Get Ready for War (27 page)

Rich danced up on me. Her sheer blouse stuck to her body. Her weave was sweated out. She slung her hair and beads of sweat splattered me in the face. I frowned as she spoke. “Look, boo. I see Midnight ain't work out. And you're real uptight in here. And I see you eyeing Doctor Corny over there. So I'm just gonna say this once. If you want Doctor Corny, go get him. 'Cause that chick's name is Nikki and she was all up on Knox one time. Don't worry, I got your back if she comes to you crazy. We'll clean her spine out like a dirty shrimp if she even thinks it. Now make it work, boo.

“And while you're at it, take it off those stilts. You can use those things as a weapon. Who does that, anyway, wear seven-inch heels to a college party? You in here floating above the room. Take it down, punkin-boo. Take it all the way down.”

I couldn't help but laugh as I stepped out of my heels. Suddenly I realized that none of the females here had on shoes. They all had danced out of their footwear.

“That's right, boo. Drop down to eye level. Now go get Doctor Corny. 'Cause I can't stand here babysitting you all night. 'Cause you see that dude over there”—she pointed over at Knox, who grinned and winked at her—“was definitely worth fighting for, you hear me? Now you stand here looking crazy and let that tramp have your man, if you want to. And, trust me, she will have him 'cause I've seen her in action. Now I'm not trying . . .” She snapped her fingers as Rick Ross's “B.M.F.” started playing. “Ooooh, this is my jam...!” She shimmied her way back over to Knox and the two of them started dancing again.

I couldn't take it anymore. Standing here, looking lost, wasn't it. Rich was right. I had to loosen up. I wanted to have fun, too! And I wanted to make up with Anderson.

I walked up on him and that Nikki girl dancing, then tapped her on the shoulder. “Excuse me, Nikki,” I said, looking at Anderson. “I'm cutting in.”

Anderson narrowed his eyes.

She gave me a confused look. I'm sure she was wondering how I knew her name. She looked at Anderson, who shrugged. She smiled and said, “Sure, go 'head.” I stood in front of him in awkwardness, trying to decide if I should say something or just dance.

Anderson scowled. “Look, Little Miss Uptight. Before you can cut in, you need to apologize.”

“You're right. I'm really sorry for what I said. I was wrong for that. And I hope you can forgive me.”

“I'll think about it.” I eyed the bottle of champagne he had in his hand. It was an expensive bottle of Perrier-Jouët. He took a swig, then handed it to me.

I took a sip. “So where do we go from here?” I asked, handing the magnum back to him.

He frowned. “I don't know what you're about to do. But I'm about to get my dance on. So if you're going to dance with me, then you need to put your back into it and dance like you mean it, or go on back over there in that lonely little corner and keep watching me from the distance, 'cause I'm here to get my party on. Now step with it, or step off it . . .”

I stared at him.

“I'm not playing with you, London. Dance hard or go home, mama.”

I blinked, then dropped my gaze down to his feet.

He gyrated his hips, pumped a leg up in the air, then started making barking noises. All of a sudden I spotted Knox, that critter Midnight, and a slew of other guys, cupping their hands over their mouths and barking. Chicks started making clicking sounds with their tongues and doing their own sorority calls.

“So what's it gonna be?”

“I'm gonna go hard,” I said over the music.

“Then let's get it. If you wanna make up with me, then you need to let me see you make it twerk.” When 2 Chainz's “No Lie” started playing, Anderson pulled me into him, and the two of us danced in sync to the beat. Two songs later, we were laughing and working up a sweat. When DJ Khaled's “Take It to the Head” started playing, I slid my arms around Anderson's neck, then looked up into his eyes and started singing.

He raised an eyebrow. “Ummm, I wouldn't do that if I were you.”

“You wouldn't do what?”

“Sing. You just need to stay pretty.”

“Mmmhmm,” Rich said, popping up out of nowhere, getting all up in my business. “Yeah, 'cause that voice is tore up.”

I rolled my eyes. “Rich . . .”

“Girl, don't mind me. Go on, get your love on. I just love love.”

“Rich, baby,” Knox said, grinning, “will you leave them alone and focus on me?”

Before Rich could open her mouth to start running it, Knox sealed her lips with a kiss. They looked so happy together. I looked back over at Anderson and said, “This is it.”

“What?”

“This is exactly where I'm supposed to be.” I cupped his face, then pressed my lips against his.

He grinned, then slowly licked his bottom lip. “Wow . . . I don't know what I'm gonna do with you.”

I gazed into his eyes, taking my thumb and lightly brushing it across his lips. “I don't know either. But you can start by kissing me again.”

And he did.

And for the first time ever, I let everything go. No Justice. No worries. Nothing but that moment. And for the rest of the night, I was truly Anderson's girl.

“C
ome on, man. Lil Bit'll be here any minute. And when she comes through the door, my girl gon' be ready to go. So, wassup? Can we chill wit' y'all?”

“She's coming all the way down from Baldwin Hills, man.”

“Come on now. And oh, a brothah needs a loan.”

“Don't front, man. You already know my father is cheap as hell. Don't let his starting point-guard position on the Clippers fool you. That man will make a dollar hollah.”

“So you already know about the moolah situation.”

“Raggedy.”

O ... M ... G ... Midnight's nonstop chatter drove me crazeeee . . . ! It was not the voice I wanted, expected, or needed to hear early this morning. What I needed to hear was Knox whispering sweetness against my skin while sliding heated kisses down my body.

Nevertheless, Midnight's voice continued to rip through my fantasy. And. Tore. My. Nerves. Up. “So, me and Lil Bit gon' roll with you and wifey, right?”

Wrong!
I jumped out of bed and quickly covered my nakedness with a sports bra, Knox's white T-shirt, and a pair of denim boy-shorts.

Evidently, Midnight had lost his mind and apparently Knox was too nice to tell him where to go and find it. But see—me, Rich Montgomery—I had no problem checkin' freaks at the door.

Snap. Snap.

“Look, Knox,” Midnight begged—with his raunchy self. “Man, you know how Lil Bit do.”

“Yeah, man, I do. And I don't know if she and Rich'll be a good mix. That's why I'm saying to you—”

“Hell. No,” I said as I sashayed into the kitchen. I looked over at Knox, who stood near the stove with three eggs in his hand. “Knox, you need to start shuttin' creeps down . . . look at you.” I paused. Then eased an index finger seductively into the right corner of my lips and inhaled my man in full view. His mahogany skin glistened, while his blue boxers hung loosely on his waist.

The single dimple in his right cheek deepened as Knox gave me a one-sided smile and asked, “Would you like an omelet?”

I blushed. “Yeah.”

“And what would you like in it?”

“Don't ask me loaded questions.”

His dimple deepened again. “Let me repeat that. What would you like in it?”

“Umm, let me see . . .” I walked over to him, placed my hands around his waist, and kissed him passionately.

I was almost lost in a whole other world until Midnight said, “All this for some eggs? I'd love to see what happens when he offers you bacon!”

I frowned and turned toward Midnight, who instantly made my stomach curdle. His nasty butt stood near the sink in too-tight long johns with one leg purple and one leg gold. Both of his hands were tucked in his waistband.

“Ewwl, Midnight, clutching pearls.” I frowned. “Your manners are all messed up. Straight up nasty. Take your hands out of your pants.”

“Are my hands bothering you and your pearls? What? You want my hands in your pants? Well, I don't do that. My hands are fine right where they are. Now, Knox, what's good? Can me and Lil Bit hang with y'all today or not?”

“First of all, what's a Lil Bit?” I slammed my hands on my hips. “Is she a little broke? Or a lil bit ugly?”

Midnight had the audacity to look insulted. “Hold up, BJ.”

“Pause.” I held a hand up. “Midnight, who the hell is a BJ?”

“You.”

“Excuse you?”

“It stands for big jawn. It's a Philly term for bigness, thickness, and in your case it stands for big and thick mouth, 'cause you talk too much.”

“Knox, you better get him. 'Cause I know he didn't just try and disrespect me!”

“Don't worry about that, baby,” Knox said, holding back a snicker. “You don't talk that much. Only on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday—”

“Wednesday,” Midnight added.

“Shut up!” I said. “I'm not thinking about either one of you. And, Midnight, don't call me a big jawn anymore.”

Midnight smirked. “You should take that as a compliment. Being a big jawn is like being a dinner plate with a steak on it. That's sexy. But see, the difference between me and my boy is that I like a buffet. Steak ain't enough for me.”

“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes.
He makes me sick!

“Anyway,” Midnight continued, “like I was saying to my boy and not his girl—”

“And like I said”—I stopped him in his tracks—“No. Lil Bit can't go and neither can you! Tonight is couple's night and we are not going to the petting zoo. And we don't need freaks for security either. So my man and I, and my girl and her man, will be going out—without you and your Lil Bit. And anyway, where was this Lil Bit last night when you were so busy trying to lick up my girl's face? Talking about chicken crumbs and buttery biscuits. Running your seeds up in her! That was so gross and disrespectful.”

“Your girl needs some seeds ran up in her; then maybe she'll loosen up.”

“Whatever. But that'll be the last time I'll ever try and hook you up with decency! And if Lil Bit was so important then why wasn't she at the party?”

“Hold up, BJ! Knox, you better get ya girl. Lil Bit just came home last night. Six months ago she ran into a hand-to-the-gut situation at the Dairy Queen her father owns. She hand-hooked the cashier in the gut for rolling her eyes and sucking her teeth when my baby ordered four chocolate sundaes, six banana splits, three shakes, and two chicken-strips baskets. And then the cashier topped it off by saying, ‘I know you not gon' eat all that.' And since my baby doesn't play when it comes to her food, she had to put down the smack down.”

“She did what?” I was stunned.

“And after six months of being made to sit down, she's coming to see me so we can get our celebration on. So that's why Lil Bit wasn't at the party last night. Now shut up and let me finish my conversation with my roommate.”

“Oh God, you are so annoying.”

“Hold up, you in my crib... all the time.”

“A'ight, y'all. Chill.” Knox chuckled as he slid the omelet on a plate, then walked over to the table and took a seat. He called me over to sit on his lap. And of course I did.

Knox took his fork, cut into the omelet, and slid a piece into my mouth.

“This omelet is delicious.” I leaned in to kiss him.

He smiled and said, “Just like my baby's kisses.”

“Umm, excuse me.” Midnight knocked on the table and tapped Knox on the shoulder. “Unless you're going to give me some and finally make this a threesome, y'all need to stop the kissing and answer me.”

“Yo, man.” Knox laughed. “Chill.”

“For real,” I snapped.

“Yo, you and your sew-in need to step. You might have my man all strung out, but I'm not trippin' off of you. You would never be my type. You're not big enough. So you can't shut me up. I'm not Knox. He's the one who can't see straight. Declaring an end to his playa-playa days. Ridiculous. And then to top things off he told me he loves you like he's never loved anyone else before—and I kept trying to figure out why. You too short, and you trying to be thick, but you need to gain about fifty pounds because you look anorexic to me. Like you need a sandwich. And you know—”

“A'ight, man,” Knox said. “You're running your mouth too much now. Enough is enough.”

Midnight looked at Knox, gave him a sympathetic look, and whispered, “You know this chick got you strung out. We s'pose to be wild dogs, not house pets.” He paused and said as if a lightbulb had just gone off, “You know what, on second thought, I'ma keep Lil Bit home with me. The last thing I need is for her to be around BJ and then suddenly start thinking she's gon' put me on a leash, too.” He gave us the peace sign, walked into his room, and as he went to close the door he said, “I'ma still need that loan though, man.”

Once Midnight had finally removed himself from my sight I looked at Knox and said, “He is so effen annoying.”

“He's not annoying. He's a'ight. That's my boy.”

“Umm hmm.” I popped my lips. “So tell me. Did you really say all of those things about me?”

Knox laughed and then he looked at me seriously. “You know I love you, Rich. And at this moment I can't see being with anyone other than you.”

“I don't want anyone but you either. You're my best friend.”

He smiled and gave me a quick peck on the lips. “I know I am, which is why I'm saying to you, don't play me.”

Now that took me aback. “Play you?”

“I didn't forget about that dude.”

Not this again . . .
“Could we please drop that? He was a nobody. I promise.”

“A'ight.”

I smiled. “Now, before I forget, my mother invited you over for dinner. And she is finally going to love you as much as I do.”

Knox grinned. “Now that's worth celebrating.” He lifted me off of his lap, grabbed my hand, and led me back to his room.

 

The sultry sounds of Elle Varner singing about a refill, greeted us as we walked up the short Inglewood block and into a place called Muddy Moments. It was a hole-in-the-wall, a greasy spoon, or a breath of fresh air. A place where you could leave your celebrity at the door and the only thing that mattered was the music, the honey-dipped fried chicken, collard greens, and drinks.

The place was a one-room club that was packed with people everywhere. It felt like a beautiful step back in time—from the front door that was covered in red leather to the collection of black velvet paintings that hung behind the bar. There was a small wooden-plank stage that sat in the corner of the room, with wooden beads draped on both ends. And on the stage were a piano, two microphones, and a karaoke machine.

There were petite round tables covered with black-and-white checkered tablecloths placed sporadically around the room. And naked black bulbs, which hung over each table, contributed to the down-home and cozy mystique of the place. There were hand-painted signs littering the walls, with rules of how you were expected to party:

NO CREDIT. CASH IN HAND OR BUTT OUT THE DOOR
.

NO SWEARIN'
.

NO CUSSIN'
.

BELCHING IS FREE BUT PASSING GAS GETS YOU PUT OUT OF HERE
.

and
ONLY GOOD TIMES ALLOWED
.

 

And then there was us. My baby and I, both dressed in jeans, mine fitted and his slightly baggy. Knox wore a white tee and I wore a tight, fitted pink tee with the word
Queen
scribbled in Swarovski crystals on the front. He rocked a hot pair of customized High Pro FLOM Nikes and since I was one to never be outdone—not even by my man's four-thousand-dollar kicks—I opted for my customized pair of pink Nike Air Force Ones adorned with pink diamonds around the Nike symbol. My baby and I were killin' 'em. And we only had one problem—well, two: London and her boo—who'd just walked up in the place. Anderson spotted us immediately, but London was too busy clutching her bag to her chest and trying to avoid anyone brushing against her to see me standing directly in front of her.

Doctor Corny was dressed in a fly Armani suit—yes, a suit—with a loose tie around his neck. And his chick—OMG, seven-inch Jimmy Choos, ultra miniskirt, white silk camisole, and a Gucci blazer. Yes, a blazer. Both of them looked like yuppies gone wild.

Anderson smiled at me and then he turned to Knox, gave him some dap and said. “Yo, man, we ran late as hell.” He took off his loose tie, slid it in his pocket, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt. “My father called an unexpected board meeting this afternoon. And since I'm a major shareholder he wanted me there. By the time the meeting was done, I had to swing by and get London from my apartment. We came straight here. I had zero time to change.”

“It's cool,” Knox said. “Let's grab a beer.”

“For real,” Anderson said. “I need a cold one fa'sho.”

“And I, umm”—London popped her lips and cleared her throat—“need to speak to you for a minute, Rich.” She wiped invisible beads of sweat off of her forehead in disgust.

When I didn't answer her and instead said, “Knox, can you grab me a Heineken?” she looked at me like I had lost my mind, then she closed her eyes and tapped her heels three times, like Dorothy looking for a way home. This chick here . . . was trippin'.

London huffed as she repeated herself. “I
said
, I need to speak to you for a minute, Rich Gabrielle Montgomery.”

No the hell she didn't!
“Clutching pearls. Why are you calling me by my government? Who does that?” I looked from one side of the crowded room to the other. “And you gon' do that amongst mixed company, too. What is wrong with you, London? Maybe you need to go outside and come back in, because clearly you clicked your heels past the sign that read ‘Leave your attitude on the sidewalk.' ”

London frowned. And squinted her nose as someone walked by her and brushed up against her shoulder. “Ohmygod!” She shuddered. “I have been contaminated. I may need to be quarantined. What kind of lil rinky-dink place is this? This whole setup is hazardous.” She flicked more invisible sweat from her forehead. “I feel like I'm in the midst of a drive-by. Rich Gabrielle, I'm serious! I must have a word with you.”