Love Out of Order (Indigo Love Spectrum) (12 page)

“I don’t want to fight about this, either, but we need
to set some rules or something. ’Cause all we do is fight
about it,” I said, braking for a red light. I turned to
Astoria. “I know he’s a mistake, Stori. But he’s my mis
take. And he’s a mistake I wanted to make, and maybe
still do.” I didn’t mention the messages I’d read on John’s
computer. I didn’t want to hear her theories on them.

“This doesn’t make any sense. He’s going to hurt you.”

“He already has. And I don’t know what’s going to
happen, but you can’t protect me from life. I don’t always
need saving. Sometimes I need you to let me fall and
fail.”

Astoria slouched down in her seat and studied the
gold bracelet on her slim wrist. “You know what we need
to do. I need to stop talking about Erich, and you need to stop talking about John.”

“We both know that ain’t gonna happen,” I said. We
laughed.

“Yeah. It’s not,” Astoria said. “I’m gonna keep trying
to get you with Erich and you gonna keep trying to mess
up with John Archer.”

“Yeah.”

She muttered something and all I caught of it was
Sasha’s name.

I glared at her, keeping one eye on the road.

“You still sayin’ this is a mistake you might wanna keep making.”

“Look, you can be a supportive friend or you can be
an ass. But either way, it’s not going to make me go out
with Erich Conners,” I said, turning the car onto
Astoria’s street with a jerk of the steering wheel.

“I’m just sayin’.” Astoria grabbed the dash, steadying
herself for my wild turn.

I slammed on the brakes in front of her building.
“Coming in?”

I shook my head.

“I don’t want this jackass to come between us.”

“I just need some time to cool off. And you do, too.” “So no brunch tomorrow?”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

Astoria and I usually had brunch together on Sundays
after church. We went to different churches, so at least we
didn’t have to worry about running into each other there.

Astoria nodded. She reached over to hug me. I half
hugged back, leaving one of my hands on the steering
wheel.

“See you in class Monday,” she said.

I nodded. I didn’t even look at her. When I heard the
car door shut, I took off. I knew I was mad because she
was so right about so many things. But at least out of the
two of us, she was trying to be realistic.

A
t my apartment complex, I pulled into my parking
space and killed my lights.

“Perfect end to a perfect night,” I muttered under
my breath as I got out of the car. Tia’s boyfriend’s car was parked in a nearby visitor’s spot. They were really
open with their sexuality. Too open. I hoped they
wouldn’t be on the dining room table again. I hadn’t
eaten on that table since the time I’d found them on top
of it. “J-u-u-u-st perfect.”

SASHA THE BITCH FROM HELL

From the moment I first saw her, I knew my life
would never be the same. But in a very different way
from how I knew it when I first saw John. She had legs
that just wouldn’t end. Her thin lips were curved in a
smile that did not reach her pale blue eyes. Long blonde
hair. Great ass. Hell, great body, period. She was every
guy’s wet dream.

“I heard she did some amateur modeling before col
lege, and Victoria’s Secret wanted to pick her up, but she
wanted to concentrate on school,” I heard a girl say as she
walked past, staring at Sasha. Everyone within staring distance was staring at Sasha.

My stomach sank to my knees. I wanted to throw up.
I wanted to disappear. I wanted to erase John from my
memory because I should have never had the nerve to even
think about him. I should have known. I was an idiot.
Obviously, John only wanted to be friends. He was dating
perfection. Who was I? I had misread those messages on
his computer. Or maybe I’d gotten his name confused with
Ral’s or something or maybe someone else had typed those
messages to play a joke on Ral. There was some explanation, I guessed. All I knew was Sasha was perfection.

S
he wore knee-high boots that I could have never
gotten one of my huge calves into even if I put both
boots together. She had on a denim mini, and I could
have never gotten my fat ass into it. A sweater that
showed off perfect cleavage. Surgically perfect. They had
to be fake. Probably a high school graduation present
from Daddy to go with her Range Rover. Her dad was a
neurosurgeon. He had probably gotten one of his bud
dies to give him a discount on Sasha’s boobs.

“Close your mouth, honey. Come on,” Astoria said,
pulling me away from the horror.

I shook my head to bring myself back to reality. I
turned around mechanically. I caught Astoria muttering
something under her breath.

“Stori, I love you, but I don’t want an ‘I told you so’
right now,” I said through clenched teeth, pulling away
from her.

“I know.”

I stopped in my tracks and raised my eyes. This wasn’t
my Stori.

“No smart remark?”

“Nah, girl. She got you good. Even I feel sorry for
you. I saw your face when she got out of that Range.”

I didn’t say a word. I just stared at Astoria. She made
me mad when she was dead on like that.

“I’m taking you to the Bottom tonight. And I don’t
wanna hear about no law review, gotta read, gotta make
a meeting agenda. It’s Friday night. And we’re gonna have
some fun,” Astoria said.

“
Okay, but I’m inviting Suse and Tia.” I hoped Suse
would come.

“Suse, okay, but
Tia
?”

“Hey. She made me a cake after that law review dis
aster with Lindie last week. I’d feel bad.” I grinned,
taking out my phone.

“Was it even edible?”

“Stori.”

“Okay, okay. I gotta go do some stuff in the library
for the interview initiative. I’ll see you tonight.” She was part of a group that helped minorities in the Richmond area gain skills they needed to get various types of jobs. She gave me a hug and then she was off.

I walked toward my car. I had get out of that parking
lot. It was beyond necessary. I couldn’t stand another
moment of Sasha’s blonde perfection.

“Denise.” No, I didn’t just hear John call my name. I
kept walking. “Denise.”

This was not happening. I stopped, plastered a fakeas-hell smile on my face, and turned around. There was
John and his Heidi Klum knock-off. The first time John
had spoken to me in over a week. And look at the
moment he’d chosen.

“Hey, John.” I forced the words out of my mouth in
a voice I didn’t recognize.

“Sasha, this is my friend, Denise. Denise, this is my
girlfriend, Sasha,” John said.

I couldn’t believe it. He didn’t look like he thought
he’d done anything wrong. He was acting like I was just
some random girl he knew from class.

“Denise, I haven’t really seen you around lately.”

“Yeah, well, you know, finals coming up. And—
journal stuff and all,” I said, forcing that smile to stay on
my face while thinking that he hadn’t really tried to see
me lately. It was hard for me to believe the person
standing before me was the same person from the
rooftop. I began to wonder if he had split personalities.

“Hey, Sasha. It’s nice to finally meet you,” I said, sticking out my hand. I thought my cheeks would burst if I had to hold that plastic smile much longer. Sasha smiled her cold, barely civil smile. Or maybe she was
baring her teeth at me. I couldn’t really tell. I pulled my
hand back since she obviously had no desire to take it.

“Yeah,” she said. She started pawing through her
leather Coach bag. “John, honey, aren’t you taking me to
get a manicure before all the shops close up in this
pathetic excuse for a city?”

“Okay, well, later, Denise,” John said, smiling as if we
were really cool.

“Yeah,” I mimicked Sasha’s greeting to me earlier. She
had to be naturally nasty. There was no way she could
know anything.

I thought I saw a frown on his face as they turned away. I watched them walk off together. He leaned in
close and said something to her. Her response to him
didn’t seem friendly. His body tensed and he said some
thing else. I turned away with the hope that they were
fighting. I couldn’t watch them any longer, though. I
couldn’t stand the sight of Sasha.

I
forced myself not to storm to my car. I refused to
look fazed. Inside, I was boiling. Inside, I pictured myself
ripping Boston College Barbie’s head off, reattaching it
and ripping it off again. I needed to get downtown. I
needed some drinks.

Shockoe Slip and the Bottom are great places for
people-watching on Friday night. Central, Richmond,
VCU and VUU undergrads dressed to impress. Drunks
stumbling around. Music blaring out of pubs, clubs and
bars. People just generally having the times of their lives.
I don’t get there often enough.

I love Richmond at night. Richmond has a good
blend of cosmopolitan flavor and rural charm. Bright city
lights and a hometown feel.

We went to a club in the Bottom we frequent because
Astoria knows a couple of the bartenders and so we
always get generously poured drinks there. It’s a good
spot. The DJ is usually decent. And the clientele is a little
less violent there than in some places in the area. I’m not
interested in seeing a bunch of fighting and posturing. I
just want to dance.

Astoria was her usual crazy self. She was off dancing
with some trying-to-be-gangsta. Tia sat next to me, feeling
the beat to whatever smack-a-ho, kill-a-snitch nonsense
was playing that I can only tolerate because of the beat.

Suse was on my other side, swirling the stirrer around
in her mixed drink. She had gotten over what I said
enough to come out with me that night. Plus, I think she
knew I really needed her that night. She’s a better friend
than I deserve.

“
Not again,” Suse muttered, rolling her eyes and putting her drink down. She took her cellphone out of her
brown leather clutch. I saw a message notification as she
flipped open the phone.

“Charles?” I asked.

She sighed, nodding as she started texting him back.
“Yeah. I’m going up to Louisa to spend the rest of the
weekend with him starting tomorrow morning. And he’s
pissed I’m not coming tonight even though he has to go to
Charlottesville to take his mom to work tonight anyway.”

“I’m sorry.” I added to myself,
What’s new?

“It’s not your fault he’s being a baby,” Suse said,
closing her phone. “I don’t know why I’m putting it back
in my purse. He’s gonna text me right back.”

I nodded, staring across the bar. I had a sour look on
my face. I knew I looked too scary for anyone to ask to
dance or to even come near with that expression on my
face. And I was glad about that.

“You want to talk about it?” Suse smoothed out the
cotton fabric of the skirt of her orange dress.

“Not unless we can talk about what horrible skanky skeeze Sasha is,” I said. I knew Suse didn’t like it when I talked like that, but I had enough vodka in me not to care.

“Now you know what I have to say about that,” Suse
said, taking her phone out of her purse. She hadn’t been
kidding about Charles.