Bitches, Hoes, n Friends

[missbuttabutt]

I hate being bored. That night was extremely boring and I was alone. Not good. My apartment was dark and empty and the only thing poppin’ in there was my bad of Orville Redenbacher’s Extra Butter movie-style popcorn. I debated whether or not I should call Marvin, the so-called love of my life. But then I remembered that the “love of my life” was also the love of someone else’s life – his wife. So Marvin was out.

After I got my oh-so-good popcorn out of the microwave, I sat on my bed and wondered what I was going to do. Sitting at home on a Friday night drowning my sorrows in a greasy bag was not exactly my idea of a good time. I reached over to my nightstand, picked up my phone, and started punching numbers. On the third ring, someone picked up. “Speak to me, baby!”

It was just like “Diva” Devona to answer her phone like that. That girl was a walking drama novel. “Wachu know good girl? My behind is sitting here on this bed, eating popcorn and being bored. Wachu doin?”

I heard a man’s voice in the background rise and fall as if he were being told to be quiet and immediately knew what, or who, Devona was doing. But I waited to see what lie she was going to throw at me. “Girl, you know I ain’t doing nothing. Just lazing around this damn dreary-ass apartment, trying not to get depressed.” Figures she would lie about trifling-ass Craig being over there.

See, Craig is this dude that Devona and I met at the comedy club one night about a year ago. The two of us were at a table in the front of the Red Room one Saturday night when, SURPRISE! neither one of us had anything to do and decided to hop on the train and go get our laugh on. So we were at this table and up behind us came this tall glass of chocolate milk with butterscotch eyes and cherry lips. DAYUM! Homeboy was a scrumdiddlyumptious sundae fo sho! Add that to the fact that he smelled good and had on this bomb-ass suit, and he couldn’t taken me right on that table and I would’ve been screaming and shouting like a Mandingo doing a war dance. Anyway, while I was staring at his package through those navy blue slacks, he spoke. “Excuse me ladies, but I’ve been sitting in that corner with my friend and noticed you two beauties, but with no dates. Would you like to join us?” He pointed to the left corner of the small room at a very well dressed ugly man sitting at a table.

Don’t you hate that shit? When there’s two of you, and two of them, but one is FIONE and the other one looks like damn night owl? Anyway, the comedians were on an intermission so Devona and I decided to take this angel up on his offer. So we got to the table, and I realized that the friend wasn’t as ugly as I had thought at first glance. Must’ve been the lighting. Anyway, Trollboy introduced himself as Darius and Sexyboy’s name was Craig. The four of us sat around chatting and getting to know each other even after the comedians came back. Actually, we were laughing and talking so loud that they had to ask us more than once to quiet down. When the show was almost over, Devona and I went to the bathroom. She, to look in the mirror and fix her cleavage, and I because I really had to piss. When I came out of the stall and washed my hands, Devona was in the mirror smoothing down her eyebrows with the tip of her wet finger. “Arena girl, we did good tonight, huh?”

“Yeah I guess so, girl. But you know I’m mad too.”

“At what?”

“Well, Craig is drop-damn funky skunky make you wanna smack yo momma sexy, and Darius is a damn Shrek. Why can’t they both look good?”

Devona laughed as she pulled down her skirt. “Girl, don’t worry. It’s not like Darius is that bad. Plus, he’s nice. And I think Craig likes you, too. I saw the way he was looking at you across that table.” She paused to fix her hair. “Tell you what. When we get back out there, you talk to Craig and I’ll talk to Darius. At the end of the night, whoever Craig asks for her number, gets him. Fair?” She stuck out her hand and I shook it.

Well, to make a long story short, when we left the comedy club, Craig had asked Devona for her number and I gave Darius my old beeper number that I had turned off 2 years before. I saw Devona give me a dirty look as I recited the number, but luckily she didn’t expose me. Actually I’m kind of glad that Devona got Craig, ‘cause that boy is a trip. But that’s a story for a later day.

Anyway, as I got to the bottom of my popcorn bag, I got an idea. “Devona, since you not doing anything, can you come over for tonight? Girl, I’m tired of being by myself.”

“Uh, come over? Sure, Arena. Gimme about an our and I’ll be over, aight, girl?” I could hear Craig in the background complaining, and Devona telling him to shut up. When was she going to learn that I knew the two of them were still seeing each other and frankly didn’t give a rat’s ass?

[missbuttabutt]

“All right, girl. See you in an hour.” I hung up the phone with a smile on my face. Devona was a trip. Never willing to admit a mistake. As I walked to the kitchen to dispose of my popcorn bad, I got an idea. Tonight I was going to have a sleepover at my house like I was 12 again. I raced back into my room and started calling up friend who, like me, had no lives and would be home on a Friday night, chillin’. By the time I was done, Michelle, Brynn, Cassandra, and Sharon had all agreed and were on their way to my house.

I stood in the middle of my bedroom floor and looked around. Clothes were still on my bed from that morning when I was trying to find something to wear to work for Casual Friday. My makeup case was still open and on my dresser, my curling iron was still on top of my TV, and shoes were all over the place. I walked through the rest of the apartment, and it was immaculate. See, the thing about me is that my bedroom can be any old way, but I’m an absolute neat freak when it comes to anyplace else in my house. So basically, I didn’t have any real cleaning to do, just a little straightening up.

I turned on my radio to Hot 97 and it was Ladies’ Night, which meant that the music would be loud, hyped, and corny. Just as I was about to turn the station, my cut of the month, “Rock the Party” by Benzino came on and my ass went buck wild. I turned that shit up so high, my cheap-ass walls shook. I was done at about 10 o’clock and was waiting for my guests to arrive when my phone rang. “Hello?”

“Hey baby. You sounding sexy as usual. How bout you let me come over and find out just how sexy you are.”

I sucked my teeth and rolled my eyes. “Hi, Marvin.”

“Damn, Arena. Why you always gotta make a nigga feel unloved? You know I love you, cutie.”

“Oh yeah? Well how come you didn’t love me enough to tell me you were married, huh? You ain’t love me then, Frankie. I don’t even know why I still accept calls from your sorry ass. I should’ve blocked your damn number.”

Marvin sighed as if trying to keep his patience. “Baby I told you about that already. I wanted to make sure I was really in love wit you before I told you. Plus, I was scared ‘cause I didn’t know how you’d take it. Come on, Arena. All I’m asking you for is one more chance. Just one more chance, baby. I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

For a second I was honestly considering giving Marvin another chance. But then I realized that if Marvin was willing to cheat on his wife, a woman who he’d been with for 7 years, and had 2 kids with, what the hell would stop him from cheating on me? So I uttered some of the most difficult words of my life. “No, Marvin. It can’t be like this anymore. You have a family that needs you. And I refuse to be a home wrecking hussy. So if you ever decide to leave your wife, and you get your life together, call me. Until then, don’t stop by, don’t send flowers to my job, don’t call, don’t write, and if you see me on the street, don’t say hello. I love you, Marvin, but I don’t think you love me enough.”

I could hear the emotion in Marvin’s voice as he said, “But baby I do love…”

I cut him off with, “Bye, Marvin,” and hung up the phone. A single tear slid down my cheek as I stared at the phone. Damn I hate men. Just then the doorbell rang. I dried my face and got up to welcome in my guests. Together at my door were Sharon and Michelle.

[missbuttabutt]

Michelle is one of my oldest and dearest friends. We met back in junior high when we were just 12 years old. Michelle is a very pretty girl, and even back then, she had guys coming out her ass. At the time we met, Michelle was dating a very cute boy named Randall Joseph. Damn, that boy was fine! Anyway, the two of them were in the cafeteria together, on the lunch line, and Randall was carrying Michelle’s tray. Now, back then, if your man carried your tray, that meant one of two things: either he was pussy-whipped, or you just had juice like that and could get anybody to carry your tray. I think Michelle just had the juice. Anyway, there was this real ugly heifer in the cafeteria that day, Nadia Marshall. Nadia was one of those girls that hates you just because you’re prettier than she is. Every school has one of her kind. I guess Nadia must’ve noticed Randall carrying Michelle’s tray and got jealous, so she walked her little monkey ass over to him and kissed him right on the lips. Dizzy dizzy dizzam! That was such an insult to a girl, some other girl kissing your man while he was carrying your tray! After that, all hell broke loose. Michelle had stuffed her Jell-O down Nadia’s shirt, and Nadia had Michelle in a headlock. Now, I’m a Good Samaritan and normally not a fighter, but I hated Nadia, and I just couldn’t let her disrespect Michelle like that, even though I didn’t know her. So I jumped in. In the end, me and Michelle beat that fugly bitch’s ass and we’ve been tight ever since. Now Sharon is another story.

I met Sharon my senior year of college. And trust me, we did not start out as friends. In fact, Sharon was the other woman in my then-baby Chris’ life. Back then, I thought I was the shit. Nobody could tell me anything. So when I started hearing that Chris was being seen all hugged up on some trick with crayon-red hair, I didn’t pay it any mind. Then, one day, that fool had the nerve to bring that heifer to the campus library where I worked 4 days a week. Imagine that shit. That nigga knew I worked there, and still had the balls to show up with another girl on his arm. But what really did it was when he leaned over the counter, read my name tag as if it were the first time he’d ever seen it, and said, “Excuse me, uh, Arena, but could you tell me where the poetry section is? I wanna get a poem for my baby here by one of my all-time favorites, Lord Brian. So, uh, can you do your magic on your little card catalog and hook a brother up?” Lord Brian? I thought it was Lord Byron. Leave it to me to find a sexy dummy. And that fool had the gall to act like he didn’t know me at my own damn job. Now ladies, you know there’s only 2 places a nigga bet not try and act a fool: your mother’s house and your job. He act up at either one of those places and you ready to go upside his head forty-eleven times with your shoe.

Needless to say, after that incident, plus mysteriously getting jumped by a big dude that looked surprisingly like my brother, Ronnie, Chris was no longer in my life. And poor Sharon, that girl was so in love, she didn’t realize she was being played for a fool. Now I’m sorry, but wouldn’t you get a little suspicious if the only days your man could see you were Wednesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday when he didn’t even have a job, and every time you called him, he was in a rush to get off the phone? I guess Chris had Sharon’s nose open so wide she couldn’t see past the hints. Oh well.

Anyway, as they stepped in, I checked out Michelle and Sharon’s bags. I did only invite them to spend one night. Sharon’s bag was cool – not too heavy looking, just the necessities. Michelle, on the other hand, had to bring her whole damn closet like she was moving in. “Damn, Michelle! You brought enough luggage to last on Gilligan’s Island,” I said. Michelle just laughed it off and headed to the back to put hers and Sharon’s stuff in my spare bedroom.

Making sure the coast was clear, I asked Sharon a question about the secret only the two of us shared. “So Sharon, are you pregnant?” For the past two weeks, Sharon had been calling me complaining about being nauseous all the time, and having frequent headaches. I suggested she take a pregnancy test because, even though she is my girl, Sharon doesn’t exactly keep her legs scissor tight. When she didn’t respond and hung her head low, I already knew the answer to my question. I asked, “So what are you gonna do now, girl?”

“Do about what?” Damn. Leave it to Michelle to be all nosy.

“What are we gonna do about finding us some decent men!” Sharon quickly responded. I don’t think she was ready just yet to let Michelle know about her little bundle of joy.

“Sheeeeeiiit. If I knew the answer to that question, I would not be sitting her mopin wit y’all stankin asses, now would I?” Michelle teased. She turned on and up the radio before she asked, “Sharon. Why you look so sad, girl?” The way your face is hangin, you would think somebody just killed your child.”

With a look on her face that was a little too serious for my tastes, Sharon answered, “Girl, if you only knew.”

[Juicey1]

***BUMP***

Anything more to add to this story?

[missbuttabutt]

Nah, it's over and done with. I felt like it was turning into another cliched "Negro novel," as my friend likes to call them.
This one hit the trash can long time ago.