Read He's Just A Friend Online
Authors: Mary B. Morrison
He's Just A Friend (12 page)
Frowning at Fancy he asked, “Then why didn't you have dude give you a ride?”
Fancy threw her arms around Desmond, again. “I'm so happy to see you. I'll tell you all about this crazy night when I get home. Right now I'm just tired, cold, and a little tipsy.”
Turning on the heater, Desmond drove in silence, occasionally watching Fancy stretch her red dress down to her knees.
“I hope I didn't wake you,” she said, reaching for his hand.
Desmond gazed over at Fancy. “It's okay. How long you gon' keep lettin' these guys use you?”
Fancy laughed. “Stop trying to be psychic. It's not your strong suit.”
Sighing heavily, Desmond parked in front of Fancy's building, turned off the engine, and escorted Fancy to her front door.
“Come in. Keep me company.”
That meant she wanted him to play psychologist until she could get to Mandy's couch. As long as he didn't comment, everything would go well. Carlita had worn him out so Desmond wasn't interested in making love to Fancy tonight. But he would enjoy holding her in his arms.
“Cool,” Desmond responded.
Fancy drew a warm bath. Desmond washed her back and listened to her.
“I was on my way home from a date with Byron and all of sudden my tire blew out. At the same time, Byron had gotten an emergency call. Otherwise he would have brought me home. So he called his tow company and left as soon the guys arrived. After the two guys placed my Benz on the flatbed, 'cause you know they can't drag an expensive car around like they do the cheap ones, the driver said he was not instructed to give me a ride home and he had no seat belt for me to wear. Then they took my Benz and left me at the station and advised me to call someone to pick me up. Just wait until I tell Byron. He's going to fire those losers.
“So, you see, I would've been stranded if you hadn't come to my rescue,” Fancy said, reaching her finger deep inside her vagina, then splashing her hand around in the water.
The story didn't sound legitimate but Desmond had already heard enough. “You need to stop seeing dude. Any man that leaves you stranded doesn't give a damn about you,” Desmond said. He clenched his jaw and handed Fancy a bath towel.
“Have you ever been in love, Desmond?”
Twice. Trina and Fancy. “Just with you.” Desmond followed Fancy into her bedroom and watched as she sat on the vanity stool, lowered the magnifying mirror, and spread her legs.
Desmond felt an erection stirring in his pants. “What are you doing?”
“Before I turn out the lights, I have to make sure Miss Kitty is all right.”
Desmond doubted the extra massage of Fancy's clit was part of the checkup. Then again, maybe it was.
“Stay with me tonight, Dez. I don't wanna be alone.”
Desmond removed his clothes and eased under the down-feather comforter. The lights around the lake reflected off of the still water. Peaceful. Serene. The crescent moon floated above the hillside. Fancy snuggled her butt and back into his pubic hairs and his chest. Fancy's naked body was silky soft. She reached behind, grasping his hand, then tucked his arm underneath hers. Desmond whispered:
“Is this a mirage
As I massage your breasts
She's nibbling upon my chest
And she's willing to do
For me
All the things I want
To do for you
As I massage your breasts
She's nibbling upon my chest
And she's willing to do
For me
All the things I want
To do for you
Is this a mirage
As I contemplate
Whether to wipe this slate
Clean or to cling
To your being
Even though you are constant fleeing
As I contemplate
Whether to wipe this slate
Clean or to cling
To your being
Even though you are constant fleeing
So maybe it is a mirage
That won't disappear
Or eradicate my fears
That one day
You won't be near
To hear
Me say
I love you
Because someone else will appear
That won't disappear
Or eradicate my fears
That one day
You won't be near
To hear
Me say
I love you
Because someone else will appear
Again and again
Each time with a different name
This is insane
Because I can touch you
And I can smell you
And I can taste you
And I can make love to you
But I cannot have you
Each time with a different name
This is insane
Because I can touch you
And I can smell you
And I can taste you
And I can make love to you
But I cannot have you
So what do
I do
When this mirage
Becomes clear
And someone else
Is lying here
With you”
I do
When this mirage
Becomes clear
And someone else
Is lying here
With you”
“I love you, Fancy.”
“Yeah, I know, Dez.” Fancy paused, then said, “Good night.”
CHAPTER 14
“W
hy? Why? Why? Why? Why are wealthy men soso heartless?” Fancy tried to find an answer before speaking with Mandy. She parked in a familiar space on University Avenue, watching time go by on the digital clock. Ten more minutes before her appointment. Seemed as though their last meeting was weeks ago but nearly three months had passed since she'd spoken with Mandy. Fancy needed yet dreaded participating in yet another counseling session because her prior problems were unresolved and new troubles had developed. The only resolution she'd fulfilled was losing weight. As long as Fancy was fabulous on the outside, no one could tell she was less than perfect on the inside.
hy? Why? Why? Why? Why are wealthy men soso heartless?” Fancy tried to find an answer before speaking with Mandy. She parked in a familiar space on University Avenue, watching time go by on the digital clock. Ten more minutes before her appointment. Seemed as though their last meeting was weeks ago but nearly three months had passed since she'd spoken with Mandy. Fancy needed yet dreaded participating in yet another counseling session because her prior problems were unresolved and new troubles had developed. The only resolution she'd fulfilled was losing weight. As long as Fancy was fabulous on the outside, no one could tell she was less than perfect on the inside.
Don't cry, Fancy. Don't you dare cry, you hear me.
Fancy wasn't sure if her thoughts provoked the emotions that brought tears to her eyes. Maybe today she'd tell Mandy what really happened to her as a child. That her obsession with working out was her way of running away from the truth. But Fancy couldn't outrun the demons that stole her breath away in the middle of the night while she slept. Nor could she outwrestle the evil spirits that held her down, preventing her from moving, screaming, kicking, or crying out for help the past three nights when Desmond held her in his arms. “Forget about it,” Fancy said, patting a tissue below her eyes and underneath her nose. “It's over. It's done. It's history.”
Fancy wasn't sure if her thoughts provoked the emotions that brought tears to her eyes. Maybe today she'd tell Mandy what really happened to her as a child. That her obsession with working out was her way of running away from the truth. But Fancy couldn't outrun the demons that stole her breath away in the middle of the night while she slept. Nor could she outwrestle the evil spirits that held her down, preventing her from moving, screaming, kicking, or crying out for help the past three nights when Desmond held her in his arms. “Forget about it,” Fancy said, patting a tissue below her eyes and underneath her nose. “It's over. It's done. It's history.”
Fancy lowered her sun visor, flipped open the mirror, and gazed deep into her pupils until her image faded. A vision of Desmond's friend Carlita popped into her mind. Yesterday when she and Desmond had breakfast at Lynn & Lu's, the waiter had just brought their food when Carlita entered wearing a pair of faded blue jeans. The top she'd worn was cute. Open back. Brown suede spaghetti straps crisscrossed about her back. That wasn't the first time Fancy had seen her but she was shocked that Carlita was Desmond's friend. Carlita, the only other woman their hair stylist called
Ms. Diva,
was beautiful and seemed so secure every time Fancy saw her at Top Notch. The one thing they had in common was when they walked into the salon, their hair looked so good, they should've been walking out. Fancy was calling their stylist Raeshelle early tomorrow morning to get the details on Carlita. How could a woman like Carlita be seriously interested in her Desmond?
Ms. Diva,
was beautiful and seemed so secure every time Fancy saw her at Top Notch. The one thing they had in common was when they walked into the salon, their hair looked so good, they should've been walking out. Fancy was calling their stylist Raeshelle early tomorrow morning to get the details on Carlita. How could a woman like Carlita be seriously interested in her Desmond?
Fancy was surprised when Carlita had stopped in front of Desmond, holding her to-go Styrofoam container, and said, “Hey, baby. Tyronne get his car taken care of Friday night? Oh, how rude of me,” she said, switching the Styrofoam to the other hand, “I'm Carlita. And you are?”
Staring at Carlita's hand, Fancy recalled saying, “Desmond's friend.” Desmond must have truly cared for her if he'd left Carlita's house at one in the morning to rescue her.
Fancy pictured Desmond's mouth hanging open for thirty seconds before the words, “Uh, yeah. I was going to call you,” escaped in response to Carlita's question. Had Desmond just told Carlita a lie or not the truth? Was there a difference?
Carlita politely said, “Call me later. Enjoy your breakfast. Nice meeting you, Fancy.” With her Styrofoam container level with her waistline, Carlita left, hauling the biggest ass Fancy had ever seen.
Fancy wasn't surprised Carlita knew her name. But how much did Carlita know about her? When she looked at Desmond, Fancy remembered saying, “So that's Carlita.”
“Yeeesssss.
Carrrliita.
” The way Desmond rolled her name off of his tongue like Carlita was the banana walnut waffle with warm maple syrup that he'd eased into his mouth made Fancy conceal her jealousy. That was history. She needed to focus on the present.
Carrrliita.
” The way Desmond rolled her name off of his tongue like Carlita was the banana walnut waffle with warm maple syrup that he'd eased into his mouth made Fancy conceal her jealousy. That was history. She needed to focus on the present.
Now, Fancy speed dialed Adam's number. His automated voice mail answered immediately. “Adam, baby. This is Fancy. Call me.” When she ended the call, her digital clock displayed ten-o-three. Fancy closed her visor, retrieved her white plastic grocery bag, covered the meter, and dashed across the street into Mandy's office.
The receptionist continued typing and said, “Hi, Fancy. Go on in and have a seat. Mandy is waiting for you.”
Fancy sat on the sofa, crossed her legs, and sat in silence.
“I detect we are not in a good mood today. Why?” Mandy asked, placing the yellow legal size pad in her lap.
“There's so much to say, I don't know where to start.” Fancy sighed heavily and became quiet. She forced back her tears then said, “One moment Harry adored me, bought me expensive gifts, and took me out. On a day like today, normally I wouldn't have to go into the office at all. I know it's just a matter of time before Harry expects me to work eight hours a day. But that's okay because I'm going to quit and start my own business soon.”
Fancy avoided eye contact with Mandy. “Then there's my fiancé, Byron. We don't go out much. He claims he's busy but I believe he's afraid to make a commitment. Once I showed him the wedding colors, the cake, and the three possible locations for our ceremony, Byron doesn't call me as much as he used to.”
Not waiting for Mandy to respond, Fancy exhaled and continued, “You don't understand. I gave up
all
of my sponsors for Byron. Well, actually Adam stopped calling and he won't return my calls, so basically I had to pay my own rent for March. And a single paycheck doesn't cover my rent, because Harry cut off my bonuses, because I stopped having sex with him, so now I'm going to be late paying for April.” Fancy didn't tell Mandy she also didn't have enough money to pay for the session. Fancy wondered if Desmond was happy with Carlita. That was silly. Of course he wasn't. He spent the entire weekend at her place.
all
of my sponsors for Byron. Well, actually Adam stopped calling and he won't return my calls, so basically I had to pay my own rent for March. And a single paycheck doesn't cover my rent, because Harry cut off my bonuses, because I stopped having sex with him, so now I'm going to be late paying for April.” Fancy didn't tell Mandy she also didn't have enough money to pay for the session. Fancy wondered if Desmond was happy with Carlita. That was silly. Of course he wasn't. He spent the entire weekend at her place.
“Byron? You mean the one who hasn't paid you for all those fund-raisers Byron? Or is this someone new?” Mandy peered over her glasses.
“My future husband, Byron. He spends lots of money on me. He bought me a car, so I know he loves me. Our wedding colors are platinum and white. SaVoy will be my maid of honor. Tanya is a bridesmaid. I've created a diet plan to help Tanya lose weight. Trying to fit a size sixteen into a size twelve won't work. I'm going to start taking her hiking with me. I told her to put William out. Let's see, where was I? Oh, yeah. Two women from my Thursday night spin class will also be bridesmaids. I still have to find a flower girl, though. And since Desmond is my best friend, he can give me away.”
Raising her hand barely above her note pad, Mandy shook her head and said, “Wait a minute. You need to slow down. We can't discuss everything in thirty minutes.”
“No, actually I need to hurry up. I have a date with Byron tonight. And I have to figure out how I'm going to get my hair and nails done before seven. And I mentioned to Desmond yesterday over breakfast that I'm in love with Byron.”
“Okay, Fancy. Forget about Byron and Desmond and all of your sponsors. Don't you see the pattern? When you have sex with them, they're happy with you. When you don't, with the exception of Desmond, the others move on to someone else who will have sex with them. Now, Fancy. What about you? Is this what you honestly want?”
“Why do you keep spending my dime asking me about myself? I live with me every second of every day. I need you to help solve my problems.” Maybe this was a good time for Fancy to open up to Mandy about her past. Trying to find the right words, Fancy sat quietly, constructing sentences in her head.
Mandy stared for a long time over the top of her glasses. Softly she asked, “How's Caroline?”
Fancy sighed heavily and said, “Sick.”
“Sick? Or sickening?” Mandy questioned.
“Both.”
“She's sick. What's wrong?” Mandy slid her glasses up her nose. “How long?”
“Caroline exaggerates. It's not that serious. She left me a message saying something about how she was bleeding all over herself for almost three weeks straight. Messing up her clothes and stuff, and her car seat. Afraid to go to work 'cause she was soaking through maxi pads like crazy. I think she said the doctor told her she has fibroids. Since she said there was no rush to have surgery, I don't know why she tied up my voice mail with that long drawn out monologue. It's not like I'm going to take care of her again, even if she does have to have a hysterectomy.”
“Oh, Fancy. That's not good. Despite what you think of Caroline, she is your mother.” Mandy was starting to sound like SaVoy.
“Yeah, yeah. But she still doesn't have time for me. La, la, la, la, la . . . it's the same old song.” Fancy bowed in her seat. “Can we change the subject?”
Mandy's eyes shifted to the left. She bit her bottom lip, and then tilted her head, letting her frames travel to the tip of her nose. Fancy felt the tension in Mandy's exhale but didn't hear a sigh.
Fancy stood and said, “I know that look. This concludes our session.”
“No, wait.” Mandy opened her bottom drawer, pulled out a book, and handed it to Fancy. “Give this to your mother. For me. Please.”
Fancy looked at the cover. Flipped the book over, then back to the cover. “
It's a Sistah Thing: A Guide to Understanding and Dealing with Fibroids for Black Women
by Monique R. Brown. These women don't look like Caroline. The one in the middle looks like me.”
It's a Sistah Thing: A Guide to Understanding and Dealing with Fibroids for Black Women
by Monique R. Brown. These women don't look like Caroline. The one in the middle looks like me.”
“Good point,” Mandy said. “If your mother has fibroids, you need to know her history. Take care of yourself, Fancy.”
Fancy started her engine and speed dialed Raeshelle's number. When the answering machine beeped, Fancy said, “Raeshelle! I know it's Monday and you always close the shop to braid hair but could you please pick up the phone.” Fancy paused. “Raeshelle! I know you're there. Pick up the phone, it's me Fancy.” Fancy waited a few seconds, then hung up. She merged before the Eighteenth Street exit and drove toward the tollbooths. Traffic to the city at ten in the morning was a breeze. Fancy was surprised Harry wasn't in his office, so she whisked into hers and closed the door.
Four messages registered on her display. “Hi, Fancy. This is Tanya. Iâ” Delete. “Hey, girl. Haven't heard from you inâ” Fancy deleted SaVoy's message. “Hi, this is Adam.” Fancy smiled. “I didn't want to disturb you so I called your work number. But listen. I've enjoyed the time we've spent together but I got married in February. That's why I haven't returned your calls. My wife changed our home number, I'm changing my cell number, and please don't disturb me at work. Take care of my kitty. After the newness of this marriage thing wears off, I'll call you. Bye.” Fancy hit four to replay the message, then deleted it. “Hey, this is Byron.” Fancy smiled again. “I have to cancel our date tonight. I'll call you when I'm back in town.”
Fancy deleted the last message and stared at her computer.
Fuck Adam. Who did he think he was? His kitty. Not hardly.
Fancy logged on to the real estate Web site but couldn't concentrate on the real estate principles. She could use her key and wait for Byron at his place. When the phone rang, Fancy stared at the receiver, then pressed the speaker button and said, “Yes, Harry.”
Fuck Adam. Who did he think he was? His kitty. Not hardly.
Fancy logged on to the real estate Web site but couldn't concentrate on the real estate principles. She could use her key and wait for Byron at his place. When the phone rang, Fancy stared at the receiver, then pressed the speaker button and said, “Yes, Harry.”
“I need to see you in my office,” Harry said, then hung up.
What would Harry do if she didn't go to his office? Fancy thought about the lies she'd told her girlfriends. Not all, but most of the clothes and jewelry she owned, she'd bought cash, or charged to her Mastercard, Visa, or Discover, which were all over the limit. Soon she'd have to change her home phone number again to avoid the bill collectors.
Fancy stood in the full-length mirror behind her door. Her short tan leather skirt showed off her shapely thighs. The tapered long-sleeve tan sweater outlined her breasts. Her high heels accentuated her toned calves. Her French manicure, African pedicure, and hair weave looked good but not great. Since Byron canceled, she could keep her standing Tuesday appointments. With the exception of the two hundred dollars she had in her purse, Fancy was broke. She stared at her radiant image trying to see what men saw in her besides her beauty. Fancy opened her door, walked into Harry's office, closed his door, and smiled.
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