Part 9 (1/2)
”Well, maybe I did take a peek. Man, I didn't mean any harm, but you know Mia is fine. A brotha still got eyes.”
”Okay, okay, enough!” he screamed, faking indignation.
”Changing the subject, Moms told me to tell you that you had better bring your black a.s.s back over to see her. You and Mia. Well, she didn't say the 'black a.s.s' part.”
”Sure thing. It was good seeing your moms again. It has been too long, and I've forgotten how Vivica can throw down in the kitchen. Makes me wanna slap somebody,” he said lost in thought. ”Yeah, I really have missed that.”
”'Cause my brotha ain't getting that at home, if my memory serves me right.”
”You remember right. Mia still can't cook worth a d.a.m.n. You wasted your money on that cooking instructor you hired back in North Carolina. I keep hoping and praying that one day a miracle will happen.”
We stopped to take more bites of our sandwiches and to get refills on our iced tea. Christian and I were relaxed, enjoying the food, conversation and atmosphere. I noticed the Georgia peaches had finally given up on trying to be seen. They had moved on to bait that was going to bite.
”Man, Kree can throw down in the kitchen and the bedroom. Two of my favorite places. She cooks like somebody's grandmother. She doesn't believe in eating takeout all the time or warming s.h.i.+t up from a can. That night we left your house, before we were out of the car and in our house, Kree was all over me. She helped me out of my clothes. Girl couldn't get enough of me.”
”And your complaint? Don't tell me my man can't hang with baby girl. You getting old, man.”
”No, no, no . . . Don't even go there. Make no mistake; I still have her hollerin' out my name at least three times a week. You know I have to handle my business.”
Christian grinned. ”Maybe she's faking you out. Women do that s.h.i.+t all the time. Fake the big O.”
”Yeah, the BS women who can't handle their business. If they are going to lie there like limp dolls, not move, and fake it, well . . . h.e.l.l, I don't care. I don't give a d.a.m.n! I'd rather they tell me they didn't come than fake it and go f.u.c.k somebody else. It's not going to hurt my feelings, just makes me work harder.”
”Preach now.”
I smiled. ”I would know if Kree didn't cream anyway. Man, you know. I know I do. I've had enough p.u.s.s.y to last a lifetime. All I know is this: If I don't feel that grip, release, grip, release, that jumpity, b.u.mp, b.u.mp . . . the way I know it should feel. Then yeah, I'll know she's faking it and don't care.”
”True, dat.”
”I guarantee-I repeat-I guarantee I can make any woman have an o.r.g.a.s.m. My tongue on her c.l.i.t, two fingers pressed against her G-SPOT, and boo-yow . . . Guaranteed, my man. Oh, yeah, I got her.”
”Kree's a lucky lady.”
”You d.a.m.n right. I have baby girl singing.”
”And . . . she has some b.r.e.a.s.t.s on her, about a thirty-six-C, big, round, firm . . .”
”Okay, watch it now.”
”I have eyes, my brotha,” Christian said in a mocking tone.
Lunch continued with laughter, and an old friends.h.i.+p was slowly being rekindled. It felt like I was home again.
Kree I absently chewed on another fingernail and silently cursed myself for not breaking my annoying habit. I half listened as Mother ranted on and on with so-called advice on how to handle my current situation with Christian and Mia. I made the mistake of mentioning that we would probably go out with them again.
Mother finally took a breath. I started to chew on another nail with the phone balanced on my left shoulder.
”So how does she look?” Moms asked.
”I'm not going to lie. She's a beautiful woman.” I wasn't about to tell her that Mia and I shared a more than slight resemblance to each other. I still couldn't believe it myself.
”Yeah, that would make sense. Brice isn't the type of man who would be attracted to a homely, plain Jane.”
I murmured something into the phone.
”So?”
”So, what?”
”Tell me more. What happened? How was it?”
”Mother, can't we please talk about something else? How is Miles?” I asked with mild irritation in my voice. I was also mentally picturing what was in the freezer that could be thawed out and cooked for dinner by the time Brice arrived home.
”Girl, we can talk about that irresponsible brother of yours later. Another one of his get-rich schemes has failed. Anyway . . . fill me in.”
”G.o.d, okay! We talked, listened to music, ate dinner, drank some wine, talked some more and then left. Now are you happy?”
”That's all?”
”Mother, exactly what were you expecting? Nothing really happened. Mia was as uncomfortable as I was.”
”What about Brice?” she inquired.
”What about him?”
”Was he checking Mia out? Going out of his way to be near her?
”No, no, not at all.” I didn't dare tell her that I had caught Brice, more than once, with his roving eyes traveling all over her body.
”Well, that's good. How was this Christian person?”
”Oh, Christian was cool. I can see how he and Brice were such great friends.”
”Oh, finally some enthusiasm? Did I actually hear some excitement in your voice?”
I didn't even acknowledge that question. I admit, I did like Christian. He seemed very sincere and decent, not to mention fine. Not wasting any time, Mother soon moved on to her next question.
”How did little Miss Mia act?”
”Mother!”
”Girl, shut up and answer my question. I'm trying to get a clear picture here, because obviously you can't see past those rose-colored gla.s.ses you're wearing.”
”Mia . . . she seemed nervous in the beginning, before her three gla.s.ses of wine. She was trying hard to be friendly, but you could tell it was somewhat forced.”
”But no pa.s.sion-filled looks?”
”No, Mother,” I said with obvious frustration in my voice now.
”None?”