Part 10 (2/2)
It started all over again. When we finally got settled, Vivica took Lyric to an upstairs bedroom to finish her nap. Brice's dad was upstairs napping as well. We found Kree sitting in the living room, flipping through an Ebony magazine. Ol' girl barely even acknowledged our presence. No, to be honest, she didn't seem that thrilled to see us, especially Mia. Women are a trip.
”Hi, Kree. What's up, baby girl?” I asked, making my way over to the sofa where she was sitting.
Kree finally put down the magazine, by which she seemed to be so enthralled, and looked up for more than a few seconds. Mia had made her way over to a wing chair as far away from Kree as she could get and pretended to be into the game on the TV.
”Hey, Christian,” she said with a s.e.xy smile. ”And Mia. Where are you guys coming from or going to all dressed up?” Mia looked Kree's way, but didn't answer her question.
”We just got out of morning church service. We were over at Bowler Rock Baptist Church.”
”Me and Brice need to find a church to attend every Sunday. But you know Brice . . .”
Brice took that opportunity to walk back into the den.
”You know Brice what?” he asked out of curiosity. He looked from Kree and then back to me.
Kree looked a bit nervous as she glanced over at Brice.
”I was just telling Christian . . . and Mia that we need to find a church to attend, but you're not big on church.”
”Yeah, you got that right. I'm not about to give my hard-earned money to some so-called high-and-mighty preacher so he can buy a larger home or a more expensive car. h.e.l.l, no.”
Mia was still sitting quietly, watching the game. She didn't even turn around when Brice reentered.
”Mrs. Pope, Mrs. Antisocial, I didn't know you were a sports buff. When did this amazing miracle occur?” Brice asked, moving closer to her and focusing his full attention in her direction.
”I watch sports . . . sometimes. If I didn't, I wouldn't spend any time with my husband during baseball, football or basketball seasons. There are many things you don't know about me.” She crossed and then uncrossed her silky legs.
Brice still made her uncomfortable, and sometimes I thought my man got amus.e.m.e.nt out of doing so. Not that he did it intentionally. Their history together-our history together-made it uncomfortable for Mia. I felt that, in time, it would pa.s.s, though.
”Well, Kree knows to stay out of my way when sports are on. She doesn't know a d.a.m.n thing about any of the games, and her silly-a.s.s questions drive me crazy. It gets on my d.a.m.n nerves. I don't have time to explain every play. She's around for the halftime entertainment.”
Brice glanced in Kree's direction and she gave him this look-this evil as h.e.l.l look.
”Isn't that right, baby?”
”Yeah, that's right. Excuse me, I'm going to see if Mama Vivica needs any help in the kitchen.” Kree hurried out. When she pa.s.sed Brice, he playfully slapped her on the a.s.s. She threw him that evil look again, but Brice just laughed.
”Did I miss something? No, man, just forget Kree. Don't pay her any attention. She's PMS-ing, tripping or something. We had an argument earlier and she's still p.i.s.sed. She'll get over it,” Brice said without any concern in his voice.
Mia turned and looked at him. A few minutes later, she excused herself to go check on Lyric upstairs.
”You'd better chill, man. You ran the women away. I told you about those crazy-a.s.s male-chauvinist statements.”
”Yeah, whatever! They'll both get over it, and if not . . .”
Brice retrieved the remote from the mahogany coffee table. He turned up the volume, flopped down on the sofa, and, before you knew it, Brice and I sat back and enjoyed the rest of the game on the tube. Vivica brought in some iced tea and we were in heaven until dinnertime.
Brice The game was just about ending when Moms called us to the dinner table. That was cool, because the game wasn't even close; the Atlanta Braves blew the Cincinnati Reds away. I smiled a big s.h.i.+t-eating grin as I retrieved my twenty dollars from Christian and made a big, dramatic display of placing it in my wallet. I couldn't help but boast that he shouldn't bet with a pro; I knew my sports.
Moms was like, ”Wash your hands and come and eat,” as if we were little children or something. Anyway, the smells coming from the kitchen were getting to me. Tantalizing smells. My stomach was growling, flip-flopping, and doing all sorts of s.h.i.+t. I loved to eat my moms's cooking. She could throw down in the kitchen. Kree was a pretty good cook, but she couldn't touch my moms. Close, but no trophy.
I'd heard them earlier, Kree, Mia and Moms, in the kitchen talking back and forth. I couldn't make out what had been said, but it sounded like Moms was doing most of the talking. I'm sure that was an interesting conversation, very interesting. I wish I had been a fly on the wall. It was kinda funny, actually. I don't think I've ever had two women together, knowingly, with whom I've been intimate. That, by itself, was a trip.
I was glad Kree's mood had improved, because I was sick and tired of her bad att.i.tude when she couldn't get her way. I give her an inch, she wants two inches more. I had finally agreed to let her work in the business with me . . . on a part-time basis, because she was supposedly so bored at home.
This way, Kree could leave work around one o'clock or so every day and have my dinner ready by the time I arrived home. I did need help with some of the administrative and office tasks. Kree was good at stuff like that. She even came in and gave the place a woman's touch with the plants and framed artwork she had purchased. Real homey and warm.
However, that isn't good enough for baby girl. Kree wants to work full-time. h.e.l.l, no! h.e.l.l to the no! Now she was p.i.s.sed and silently sulking. And she had better silently sulk; she knows better than to keep riding me about it. I don't play that s.h.i.+t, and she definitely knows that.
Dinnertime was cool! Just like I thought, Moms threw down. She really outdid herself. We sat down to a baked ham, crunchy fried chicken, seasoned collard greens, fried creamed corn, black-eyed peas, mouthwatering corn bread, potato custard and iced tea. This was her typical Sunday meal.
My pops, when he was younger and healthier, had a hearty, robust appet.i.te. So back in the day, he expected a real soul-food meal on Sundays, usually right after church service. Moms never gave up the habit. She still cooks as if she's cooking for an army of people on Sundays. Leftovers are given to a few of the elderly who live on their block. Sometimes, the pastor and his wife come over and have dinner after church service.
We all gathered in the formal dining room, around the mahogany table, held hands, bowed our heads, and Moms led us in a quick prayer to bless the food she had prepared. She also gave thanks that we were all together, as family. That's what's important to her; that we come together as family. The ladies had brought all the food in from the kitchen, placed it on the table, and we sat down to a hearty feast and lively conversation.
Kree and myself sat on the right side of the table with Mia and Brice directly across from us. Moms was seated at the head of the table. Pops's spot was painfully vacant. Moms didn't want to wake him, since he was sleeping soundly.
Pops was still having very restless and fretful nights. Wednesday, I had plans to accompany Moms to visit his doctor to find out what was really going on with him. As it is, I don't know my old man anymore. He's a sh.e.l.l of the man I used to know and sometimes feared. At times, I don't think he even recognizes me. That's the tragedy of his disease.
At first, all you could hear was the sound of forks and spoons clanking on plates as dishes were being pa.s.sed around and everyone began to dig in. Moms had this huge smile on her face, like this was the ideal scene for her.
”So, Kree, Brice tells me that you work with him for part of the day now.” Everyone's attention focused on Kree.
”Yes, Mama Vivica. I've been doing it for a couple of weeks now, and it's working out okay. It gives me time to make it home and get dinner cooked by the time Brice walks through the door,” she answered in between bites.
”That's good. You said you were getting bored sitting around at home all the time. I know what you mean; it can get old real fast.”
Kree shook her head in agreement and looked out the corner of her eye at me.
”And what about you, Mia? What have you been up to for your summer break?” Moms asked to bring Mia into the conversation.
”Not much of anything, to be truthful. On the days when Lyric doesn't go over to Mama's house, we hang out at the park or Chuck E. Cheese's or just do whatever. Christian works such crazy hours, so he's never home.”
”I remember those days well. I used to look forward to my summers. Sometimes I would take cla.s.ses at Georgia State to keep abreast of things, but most of the time I played homemaker, wife and referee. Brice and Christian were always up to something or another.” Her eyes glazed over and she laughed at the memory.
”Moms, me and Christian weren't that bad!”
”Yeah, right, my memory hasn't left yet. Y'all were always into some mess, usually involving some girl or girls.”
Kree and Mia just looked at each other knowingly and smiled. Actually, it was one of the first genuine smiles I'd seen Kree direct at Mia. I don't know what Moms talked to them about earlier in the kitchen, but it had made an impact. The ice-princess persona Kree directed toward Mia was slowly but surely melting. I saw Mia catch my eye and look quickly down into her lap.
”Moms, you're right, Brice was always dragging me into some scheme or another. I was always an innocent bystander who got caught up and sucked in. I'd end up taking the fall with him.”
”Yeah, right. Tell that lie to someone who believes you.”
Everybody laughed at that because they knew better. Needless to say, Christian's and my reputations preceded us in the local community. Older men and women in the neighborhood still remembered and told tales about our adventures-or should I say misadventures.
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