Kiss Me on the Inside (2 page)

Keisha followed him to the door. Mark stepped outside but then turned and gave Keisha his card. “Have your friend call me when she decides to take a break from studying.” Mark descended the steps, running to his van.

Keisha hastily walked to the kitchen, where Nikki was pouring milk into a bowl of Frosted Flakes cereal. “So what do you think about Mark?” Keisha asked.

“What is there to think about? He's not my type.”

Keisha shook her head. “What exactly is your type?”

Nikki had a big smile on her face. “All is need is my books.”

“You are as dull and dreary as the weather outside.”

The sun, all of a sudden, emerged from behind the clouds and brightened the kitchen. “I beg to differ.”

Keisha rolled her eyes and walked out the kitchen to her bedroom.

The gold-plated metals that accentuated Keisha's king-sized canopy bed sparkled. “I have to change these damn curtains,” she stated as she made her way over to the window, trying to prevent the excess light from seeping through the sheer gold embroidered curtains. The light reflected off her Chanel, Juicy Couture, and many other name-brand perfume bottles, and it danced on her bed, mocking her attempt to block out the sun; and her efforts were in vain.

“I can already tell that today is going to be a bad day for me.” She shook her head, accepting defeat. Suddenly having a craving for some orange juice, she shook her head and headed back to the kitchen. She took the carton of SunnyD from the fridge and poured herself a glass, but got distracted by the blinking light on her answering machine that indicated she had awaiting messages. She continued pouring while she stretched her free hand to press the play button. Her glass overflowed and she felt the cold juice on her feet.

“Damn it!” She stomped her feet. She removed her feet from her wet, furry slippers. Hopping on one leg she retrieved a paper towel and wiped her foot.

“You have two new messages,” the machine stated when she pressed the retrieve button. The first message was for Nikki and she erased it after the first few words.

“Keisha, don't forget to meet me . . .” It was her friend Shay reminding her that they had business to take care of. She walked off with the glass of orange juice while the message still played. She put the glass to her lips and didn't remove it until the glass was empty, setting it on the granite sink in the bathroom afterwards. The green and gold decoration gave the bathroom a warm feel. Keisha took pride in keeping her bathroom squeaky clean because that was her zone to relax and unwind. Taking a bubble bath with a magazine, looking at the latest fashion, was something that was done as her therapy.

The water temperature was gauged to warm before she undressed herself, revealing her naked body. She placed a pink shower cap on her head, then stepped in the tub. Today she didn't have time for a bubble bath because she was running behind time to meet up with Shay. “Just what I needed,” she said approvingly as the warm water escaped the shower head and greeted her body. A flashback on the date she had a few days ago almost dampened her spirit.
That sick bastard.
The water glided down her body, relaxing her muscles, and she exhaled, wishing she could rid herself of the memory of that horrible date.

Their table was close to the kitchen and she could hear the ruckus that was going on back there. It was like an episode of
Hell's Kitchen
. She pulled out the chair and sat down and her eyes begin to wander from table to table. Keisha frequently dined at this restaurant but never was it full to capacity like tonight. As she continued scanning the room, tuning out whatever David was yapping about, her eyes locked on to the Jamaican Olympic track star Usain Bolt dining with a few reggae artists.

This motherfucker must be crazy. How the hell is he going to invite someone on our date? On second thought his friend is probably more my type anyway. I could just slip him my number and see what he has to offer.

“No,” he replied and tried to carry on his conversation, praising his car. She didn't want to hear about how expensive the car was, nor was she fascinated by his description of the posh leather interior. He was admiring his car more than he was admiring her and she was right there in his presence.
Who wouldn't want to compliment me or beg for my attention?
David was in love with his new car and she was jealous.

Oh hell no.
The date was already going sour but now the presence of this woman joining them put a bitter taste in her mouth. Keisha had lost her appetite. She wanted to toss her drink in his face and couldn't have cared less if she ruined the bitch's expensive dress. The woman was all over David as if he was a long-lost lover or she was a bitch for hire who he paid well.

The waiter brought an extra chair and David fixed it at the table, then made sure that Lisa was properly seated.
Look at this shit. He didn't even pull my damn chair. Now I definitely have to get to the bottom of this shit.

Bitch, please, I might be pissed about the fact that you are wearing the dress I wanted but certainly not jealous of you and him. All I want is to get close to his pocket, not him.

I guess he ordered it for your ass because I definitely don't like salmon.

Lisa and David caught up on old times as if Keisha weren't even at the table. The woman gave him goggle eyes as she laughed at his jokes that weren't even funny.
Why the hell am I still here? It's obvious that three is a crowd.
Keisha wiped her mouth with the white napkin, staining it with her pink lip gloss. She reached for her Louis V. purse in her lap, finding her lip gloss to reapply. A little freshening up before she made her exit.

The continuous ringing of the doorbell played an awful tune. She tried to ignore it but the person wouldn't go away, which resulted in her ending her shower. She grabbed her robe and covered herself, then hastily walked to the door like a madwoman. There was a woman she didn't recognize standing at her door.

“May I help you?”

“Where is he? I know he's in there!” the angry woman yelled as she tried to see past her by tipping up on her toes, swaying from side to side.

If it was any other morning Keisha would have enjoyed putting her in her place, but not this morning. She didn't know this woman and she didn't care to know who she was or what she was being accused of. After viewing her from head to toe, Keisha shook her head and slammed the door in her face. It wasn't unusual for a wife to come knocking at her door whenever her husband didn't come home at night. Keisha would always feel the wrath of the sanctimonious bitches whether or not she was guilty of the crime.

“Charles, I know you are in there!” the woman shouted as she banged on the door. The boisterous woman had her neighbors' curiosity running wild. You could see them peeping out their windows to see what was going on.

This was a quiet and quaint neighborhood located in Bridgeport, Connecticut, an hour away from New York. The neighbors' lawns were always well manicured, with luxurious cars in each driveway showing off their wealth; but that was also a cover-up to hide their miserable and unhappy lives. You would see wives running errands with their fancy designer handbags occasionally waving to their neighbors and giving a phony smile. They all feared Keisha because their husbands secretly lusted after her and she had a reputation for crossing boundaries to get whatever she wanted. Keisha didn't care much for the people who lived in the neighborhood but she wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing her leave.