Sexaholics (25 page)

“I did. Did you follow me?”

“Hell, maybe I should have. That’s not building two. You said
203. That’s building ten.” She pointed toward the door. “How
long has that shit been going on? Is that where you were when I came home late
the other night? With her?”

“What? Who?”

“You and Payshun, dummy?”

“I told you she called about her closet before. I was just checking to
make sure it was still okay. I was only there for a second.”

“Well, that was a warm departure hug to thank someone for fixing a
closet door.” Her words were piercing. Her face was red. “What the
fuck is up with you two, Austin?”

He took a step toward their place as though she would follow. “Nothing.
Let’s go inside. Come on.”

“No.” She yanked on his arm but her one word was loud enough to
stop him. “What’s up? Fucking tell me now.” She stomped her
foot.

He jerked himself toward her. His dreads flung to his right.
“Nothing.”

“Boy, I will fucking knock on that bitch’s door and kick her
black ass.”

“Teela,” he said, as though begging for her cool side.

“I’m not playing.”

“Okay, wait.” He looked as though he was regrouping his thoughts.
“This is my place of business here. Don’t start any shit,
now.”

“You already started it. And this is
my
residence. You moved
in with me, remember? Now talk.” She started counting. “One.
Two.”

He spewed his words fast, speaking up though his eyes said he
shouldn’t. “She and I got together a few times.”

Finally, the dog’s wails ceased.

“You what?” Teela got even louder. “Why would you do that
when we all agreed to see each other? I don’t fucking
understand.”

“She didn’t want to keep seeing both of us. She only wanted to
see me.”

“And your ass was okay with her only seeing you?”

“No. I just came by a few times. That’s all. Nothing
more.”

“I’d call that seeing her. If it was nothing more, you
wouldn’t have hidden it from me.”

“Teela, she doesn’t want to be with a woman. She’s not into
women.”

“Well that’s news to me but, hell, I’m not, either. But you
fucking lied to me. As open and honest as I’ve been about setting you up
with women, and you up and do this behind my back. There was no reason to do
this, Austin. Especially with our own neighbor. Damn.” Teela’s eyes
began to fill with tears.

In spite of her tears, he now flailed his hands about. “Hold up. Falon
told me you two fucked some dude named Reggie. You did that behind my back. Did
I make a big deal? I gave you the benefit of the doubt and said
nothing.”

She stepped right up to him. “I’m not a bit surprised she told
you. She was so deep into your ass that night she was willing to eat your shit
if you asked her to. You know what, Austin, yes we did. You’re right. We
did. But I didn’t fuck him. That’s surely not what you can say about
Payshun’s ass.”

He looked around toward Payshun’s door. “Yeah, right. Like I
believe that.”

She pressed her finger to his chest with each word. “I didn’t.
You weren’t supposed to fuck other women without me.” She then
pointed her finger in a circle and gave a major head roll. “You asked for
that. And still, that wasn’t enough for your greedy ass.”

“You hook me up and then get all jealous and shit.” He looked at
her like he hated the very sight of her. “Hell, maybe you do need some
counseling from the group because you are out of control. You don’t know
what the hell you want. A man. A man and a woman. A strange man and woman. Or a
fucking puppet to figure it all out and do as you say. Well, I am no
puppet.”

“No, you’re a dog just like all the rest of em. So you know what?
Go ahead and move in with Payshun, Austin. Because there’s no way in hell
you’re getting back in my fucking place.”

“Fine. I guess I’ll just call the police.”

“Go right ahead.”

He took a deep breath. “Quit playin, Teela.” He gave her a stern
look, but her return look was sterner. “You know what? Fuck you. I can
call the office in the morning and they’ll put me in a place no questions
asked.”

Suddenly, Payshun’s voice sounded: “Fuck her, Austin. Come on
in.”

Teela turned and took two steps. Austin took three and turned to stand
between them. She yelled over his shoulder, “Screw you, you ghetto-ass
bitch. You can have his sorry ass. You ain’t nothing but a jump-off
anyway. And he can come get what little bit of shit he moved in after I leave it
at my door in the morning.” She pushed his shoulder and he stood firm.
“And you, asshole, if you even think about trying to get in tonight, I
will shoot your horny ass. Now take that to the police.”

“Horny? Look who’s talking,” he yelled as he headed toward
Payshun’s open door.

Teela stormed away and ran up the stairs crying. She slammed, locked, and
bolted her condo door. “And I’m having the fucking locks
changed,” she yelled into the air.

She heard another door slam hard. Payshun had shut the door with Austin
inside.

Even though her heart burned like a cigarette, instantly Teela wiped her
tears and sniffled, ran upstairs, and started packing his shit.

She didn’t say a word but her mind was loud.
Freak-ass muthafucka.
This is it. No more. This crazy-ass shit will fucking kill me.

Her phone rang and she peeked at the caller, which read
Austin
. She
picked it up and pitched it against the off-white bedroom wall. The back of her
cell broke off. The dent in the wall was deep and scuffed a shade of black, like
the phone.

There was a knock at the door. She rushed over to open the nightstand drawer,
took out her chrome .22, and flicked the switch from Safety to Fire. She headed
downstairs to the front door and said loudly, “Who is it?” She
cracked open the door.

“Ma’am, excuse me, but, were you peeking in our balcony
window?” asked a frowning man. He held a miniature pinscher who looked her
dead in the eyes, like he could serve as an eyewitness for the prosecution.

Oh fuck
, she said loudly in her mind.

It wasn’t the first time she’d peeked at her neighbors. But it
was the first time she got caught.

This time, her own curiosity had not only snagged Austin red-handed but
snagged her red-handed, too.

Miki, Teela, Valencia, and Brandi

I
t was late morning that following
Sunday. All four ladies stepped through the church doors at the same time,
turning heads, looking like Carrie, Miranda, Samantha, and Charlotte from
Sex and the City
. All had on higher-than-high heels and short skirts,
and all wore bright colors. They looked like they had it all together. Like your
average Jane but with a sexy diva flair. Though all that lived within them was
in need of some true, down-home healing.

The all-white, cathedral-style church with the old-fashioned steeple was
packed. With traditional pews and a pulpit, and a small choir to the side, it
was quaint and had a holy feel. And it was fully occupied.

“Over here,” Rachel Cummings said softly, gesturing with her
hands for the four of them to come over to where she was sitting in the second
row. She and her black, younger, Afro-wearing wife scooted over and made room.
Her wife waved and smiled as they filed into the row and sat down one by one.
Each held a church program in hand.

The choir stepped up and began to sing “You Changed My Life.”
Miki, who sat on the end, leaned in to Valencia’s ear and whispered,
“Yolanda Adams wore that song out, girl.” She touched her hand and
Valencia smiled, tapping her foot to the beat and clapping her hands along with
Teela and Brandi, who sat closer to Rachel Cummings.

They stood as the song wound down and applauded. A few
amen
s and
hallelujah
s resounded with serious, soulful rumblings.

Gray-haired and handsome, Reverend Honeycutt stood tall. His pint-sized wife
had led the choir, and everyone showed their appreciation for the hard work. She
smiled a big, contagious smile, looking proud.

The reverend approached the podium in his hunter-green, perfectly knotted
power tie with matching silk pocket scarf and two-button wheat suit.

“Praise the Lord. Now that is what I call letting God know you praise
Him. Amen. Remember that your destiny is better than your history.”

Rachel Cummings let out her own “Amen,” holding her woman’s
hand as they all took their seats.

Reverend said, “Some say don’t sweat the small stuff. I say
don’t sweat the big stuff, either. Forgive and forget, literally.
God’s got you. God’s truly got you. And besides, we’re all a
work-in-progress anyway. Each and every one of us. And yes, we fall down, but we
get up, too. Get on up, as James Brown said. Get up!” he yelled.

He did a quick rendition of James Brown doing the mashed potato, snapping his
fingers while the band did their short version of the song.

The church members clapped along with him and laughed as he wound up his
energetic sermon.

He laughed, too, and wiped his forehead. “I feel good,” he
shouted, ending with, “Hallelujah.”

The crowd replied the same way, and some spoke in rhythmic tongues.

Reverend Honeycutt walked from behind the podium to the right side of the
room. “You know, today we’ll talk about finishing the course. We all
tend to get bruised and worn and torn down. It’s pretty much a guarantee
in life. From the moment we’re born, we get another day closer to our last
day. And our experiences show who we are at every turn. Sometimes things happen
that we asked for, and most times, things happen to us that we didn’t.
Some of us have been used and abused, but you must choose to walk as a whole
human being. You’d better believe it’s all for the good because
it’s all God. It’s all divine and meant to shape you up before you
ship out. Isn’t it funny how we tend to remember the times that left the
biggest scars? The scars are there to remind us of the lesson. Through the
lessons, we find that we have an opportunity to be better. It’s not what
happens to you. It’s what happens through you. It’s how you respond
that matters. You can play the victim role, or you can play the victor. No
matter what’s happened to you, it’s your call. But the bottom line
is, sight unseen, you need faith. Believe and know and claim and accept and let
go. Let God. Do the work. Show up.” He walked from the right side of the
room to the left side. Miki looked down the row and smiled at Rachel Cummings,
who had leaned forward to smile back.

“Every test is a testimony. Count yourself fortunate to have gone
through some stuff. Okay, so you were abused. Okay, so you were left. Okay, so
you were beaten. Okay, so you were let down. Okay, so you were molested. Now
what? You don’t get a pass for that. Make something of it. Don’t let
your mess go to waste. You’ve got to turn your mess into your message.

“Winners are losers who refuse to quit, so remember that. You have to
fall before you can get up. And for now, I want you to turn your bibles to 2
Samuel 21, verse 1.” He paused a few moments while everyone flipped to the
correct section. Brandi didn’t have a bible, so Teela leaned in close and
shared. Valencia had a frayed and beat-up tiny black King James version. And
Miki had a study Bible, all highlighted in yellow, with
Can I Get an
Amen
written in silver glitter on the front.

“Then there was famine in the days…” The reverend continued
to read from four verses, then spoke to his congregation for the next forty-five
minutes before he said his final words.

The reverend pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped his brow as
he headed back to the pulpit. “You must be determined to release your mess
and move on. Have a funeral for it and let it die. A setback is a setup for a
comeback, folks. Victory is on the other side of inconvenience. God will not let
you out of your trouble until you get what you need from it. God never flunks
you. If you don’t get it right, he just gives you a retest. And believe
you me, you’ll go through it again and again until you pass.”

He began to preach louder and louder. “It’s a new season.
It’s time for a new level of consciousness. Time to find someone
who’s gone on to where you want to be, someone who will be tough on you.
That’s how you get your greatest development, under someone who
doesn’t cater to your every whim. You need to get a hookup to look up.
What you commit to build, you empower to grow. We are imperfect people, and
loving yourself is number one, and that means making an unconditional commitment
to that imperfect person within. And you can enhance that commitment by trusting
in God. Don’t be afraid to cry sometimes. Tears are a language that God
understands. I want you to remember this: nothing is more powerful than a
made-up mind. Endure hardness as a good soldier. Stay the course. Don’t
give up. Can I get an amen?”