This Can't be Life (31 page)

“No explanation needed. It’s too late. I don’t have anything to say to you, Deon. Whatever you have to say now, could’ve been said months ago. I don’t have time for little boy shit. As a grown man, you didn’t have to do me the way you did me. I didn’t do anything to deserve that! You could’ve talked to me and told me that you didn’t want to be with me any more…”

“But that wasn’t the case, Simone. I was tripping out over…,” I said, cutting her off and trying to get in what I had to say before the rapper came back from wherever he was.

“I don’t care what you were tripping over really. You hurt my feelings and I was just starting to let you in! I know what’s up, Deon. I’m not a fool! You went back home, got all cozy with your girlfriend and dissed me. I’m over it. I’ve dealt with it and I’ve moved on. Now you do the same,” she said calmly, taking a sip of her drink.

“That’s not what happened, Simone. Please just call me so we can talk, or give me your number so I can call you.” I all but pleaded like a simp.

“Give you my number? What, you erased it? Forget about me, Deon. Just go on with your life and I’ll continue to go on with mine,” she said before walking off toward C. Banks who was standing not too far from where we were.  

“Deon, you need to just chop that one up as a lesson learned. You can’t undo what’s already done. Maybe one day she will forgive you and hear you out,” Nichelle told me as we sat on my floor throwing back shots of Louis XIII cognac. The Playstation fundraiser kept playing over and over in my head.

“I know, but damn! What the fuck was she doing with that rapper dude?” I swallowed my third shot and refilled the glass. “Then, when I went to go talk to her, she wasn’t trying to hear shit I had to say! She fucking dissed me, Chell! What kinda shit is that?” I felt my words slurring, but I didn’t give a damn. I wanted to drown out what I was feeling.

“Well, you know I’m going to always be real with you, D, but you dissed her first. You fucked up, so you have to just live with the choices you’ve made.” 

“I don’t even know why I liked her so much in the first place. There’s a lot of girls that want to be with me. I’m a fucking millionaire and I can have my pick of any fucking woman I want! Fuck her, Chell!” I said, trying to re-inflate my ego.

“I know that’s right. Why is it that the person you want to be with doesn’t want to be with you?” Nichelle asked.

“I don’t know…just some flickted ass twist of fate, I guess. You can have everything in your life flowing smoothly. Then that one person can come and fuck up the momentum.” I didn’t even care if I was making sense or not. I was too drunk to care, which was quite funny to me. I fell into a fit of laughter. All of a sudden, everything was funny to me. Then suddenly, it wasn’t.

“I’m not complaining or nothing like that, cuz I’m blessed to have everything I have, but this shit is hard! You can’t trust niggas. You can’t trust bitches…”

“Okay, Deon, you’re drunk…whoa, I’m feeling it, too,” Nichelle said as she got up and pulled me to my feet by my arms and led me to my bedroom.

“Damn, everything is spinning. This look kinda hot. Look at the TVs, Chell. It’s like one big TV instead of…one, two, five…eight, ten…”

“Deon, lay down, boy,” I felt Nichelle taking my shoes off, but she was just a blur. Nothing mattered right now. I was floating and it felt good to let go for once.

“Don’t leave me all alone, Chell,” I slurred. “Stay with me, pleeeeeeeze,” I begged.

“Scoot over, Deon. I’m not drinking with you no more. I see why you barely drink. You can’t hold your liquor for shit.” I heard Nichelle laughing and then everything went dark.

I opened my eyes and looked around. I was in my bedroom in my bed, but didn’t know how in the hell I got here.

“What the hell?” I whispered, when I noticed I was butt naked wearing only white socks while Nichelle slept soundly next to me, in what looked like one of my white tees. What in the hell happened to my clothes? What in the hell happened last night was the more pressing question. I was a little off balance when I got up and went into the bathroom, but once I took my first steps, my equilibrium returned quickly. I felt fine, just thirsty as hell. My throat felt like it was being sandblasted every time I tried to swallow. When I saw my reflection in the mirror, I was shocked. I looked like I had been to hell and back in half a day. I glanced around the bathroom and memories of Simone clouded my thoughts.

“Get the fuck out of my head!” I said aloud, staring myself down in the mirror. I quickly washed my face, brushed my teeth, and covered myself with my robe before I walked out the bathroom. What happened last night? I kept trying to remember. The last thing I could recall was sitting on the floor with my back against the couch talking to Nichelle. Then we started drinking…and damn, I can’t remember. I walked into my living room and found the empty bottle of Louie on the floor with two shot glasses.

“I can’t believe we drank this whole bottle.” I picked up the empty bottle and the two shot glasses off of the floor. One was still filled with a whole shot of liquor. I dropped the empty bottle in the trash shoot in the kitchen, sat the shot glasses on the sink, and grabbed a bottle of Gatorade out of the fridge. I opened the curtains to let some light in and sat down on the sofa to watch the sunrise. I closed my eyes and rested my head on the back of the sofa. What in the hell happened last night? I let the question that I had been trying to avoid since I saw Nichelle laying in the bed next to me slowly emerge into my thoughts. Did Nichelle and I have sex last night? She was laying in my bed in her panties and the shirt I wore yesterday. Shit! I’m not drinking anymore! I wanted to go in the room and wake Nichelle to question her, but if we had been together sexually and I didn’t remember, I’d feel like the biggest asshole.

Nichelle came down the stairs in my t-shirt and the jeans she had on last night.

“Good morning,” she laughed. That scared the shit out of me. What did she find so damned funny?

“Good morning,” I mumbled.

“You feel all right? Got a hangover?” She grabbed a sparkling apple cider out of the fridge then took a seat next to me.

“Yeah, I feel fine. Just confused,” I confessed, rubbing my temples. I felt a headache coming on.

“Confused about what? About what happened last night?” she asked.

“Yeah, I can’t remember a damned thing!” She got up, walked to the window, and stood there with her back to me, silent for a while. My fear had materialized through her actions. She didn’t have to say anything. I knew we’d had sex. She was too quiet.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember. I don’t usually drink like that.”

“We were both tipsy. I just wish you wouldn’t have told me that you loved me. You played with my head. I gave you my body and you don’t remember?” she sighed.

“Damn, Nichelle!” I put my hands over my face and grunted. Fuck, fuck, fuck! What have I done? I’ve had sex with my best friend. That is the quickest way for a strictly platonic relationship to end.

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry, Chell. I’m never drinking again,” I spat out. But she never turned from the window. If she had, I would’ve been able to see her smiling from ear to ear. She sat next to me and pulled my hands from my face.

“I’m just playing, Deon,” she laughed and fell off the couch. She sprawled out on the floor, crying tears of laughter at my expense.

“You should’ve seen your face, D,” she said, wiping tears off of her cheeks. “I’m sorry, but I had to do it. I had to!” she said, going into another fit of laughter. “You were so drunk last night I had to help you to bed. Then you begged me to stay. So I did,” she stated lightly.

“But I woke up naked. What happened to my clothes?” I asked, trying to figure out how I ended up butt ass naked.

“I helped you take your shirt and shoes off. Then I put your shirt on and passed out shortly after you did. You must have taken your own clothes off, D,” she laughed and I joined in finally, feeling a load lift off my chest.

“That’s messed up, Chell. You had me scared. I woke up in a panic. Bet I won’t do that shit no more. Mess around and do that with the wrong girl, wake up, and be a baby daddy in nine months.” I got up laughing, went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water. I felt like I had been rescued from the desert and hadn’t had liquid in days.

“You panicked because you thought we had sex?” she asked when I returned to the couch.

“Yeah, you my girl and I wouldn’t want to mess up our friendship and I definitely wouldn’t have wanted it to be done while I was in a drunken stupor.”

“Yeah, I know right,” she laughed. “Sitter has to leave at
7:00
, so I’m going home. What’re you doing today?” she asked, getting up from the couch and walking up the stairs toward my bedroom. I followed her and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I have a meeting with my agent at
noon
, work out at
8:00
at the
Marina
. Same ol’ shit, different day. You working today?” I asked, finishing off my bottle of water.

“Yup, sure am. I’ll bring your shirt back after I do laundry, okay?” she asked as she slipped on the flip-flops she had worn over.

“No worries. I don’t wear them twice anyway. The white isn’t white unless it’s brand new, crispy white,” I replied with a sly wink. She kissed me on my forehead like a sister would a little brother and headed down the stairs and out the door.

Simone

I pushed the button on the remote control that sat on my nightstand at the side of my bed. A flat screen TV emerged from my footboard — a gift from
Carlton
since I liked his so much, he bought me one! I smiled to myself at the thought of
Carlton
, and my whole body felt warm. I picked up the remote and began channel surfing.

“Damn, there’s always some breaking news in LA,” I said aloud.
Probably a damned high-speed chase or something
, I thought, as I continued surfing through the channels. Goodness, it’s on every local station! I turned to the E channel. Commercial break, of course. I flipped to our local Channel 2 station, deciding to see what all the commotion was about. As I began to get out of my bed, I was jolted back in place by what I saw on TV.

“What in the hell is going on?” I whispered when I saw the SWAT team and a million police cars surrounding the office building that housed the law firm where Nichelle worked. The news reporter said that there was an armed man inside the law offices of Winston, Carmichael, and Broxton holding five people hostage. She stated that there wasn’t any word yet on the identity of the gunman and that there hadn’t been any contact made as of yet. I looked at the clock on my nightstand that read
9:45
, picked up my cell phone, and called Deon, thankful that I wasn’t the type to delete numbers. Unfortunately, it went straight to voicemail.

“Deon, its Simone, call me back as soon as you get this message.” I left my home and cell number since I knew that — for whatever reason — he had erased them. Ten minutes later, I dialed him again. His voicemail picked up without even a ring. I got up, put the teakettle on the stove, and turned the TV on in my kitchen so I wouldn’t miss anything. I sat on my bar stool for over an hour and watched as a white man and woman both wearing business suits came running out of the building frantically. I flipped to Channel 4, hoping I could find out what in the hell was going on. I prayed Nichelle wasn’t in there. I made myself a third cup of tea, trying to calm my nerves as two more people ran out of the building.

“What in the hell is going on in there?” I stood up to watch the new developments, too antsy to sit. I watched with my mouth open as the SWAT team ran inside of the building. Ten minutes later a reporter broke the story.