“Wait a minute!” My other best friend, Nikki, stops me as we lunch at Shake Shack. She was born and raised in Anaheim, yet the way she acts, you would think she was born and raised in Bel-Air along with Savior and Ocean.
She’s the typical black Barbie, down to the perfect weave, perfect lip shade, and perfect car (a new Honda Accord). She’s a girl who’s never dated a black guy and her parents really don’t mind (I lowkey think they encourage her not to but that’s a different conversation).
We met at a hood party where she was the then-girlfriend of another guy. We struck up a conversation and have been close ever since. I like how different she is because she doesn’t try to be “white” nor does she play down her blackness. Take her or leave her as she is.
If Tasha is a hood booger, Nikki is the Hilary Banks of Anaheim. “He saw your snatch and he’s Savior’s brother!”
“Girl, did you just announce my business to all of L.A.?” I look around and I hope people are just oblivious to us. I do not need that shit on World Star.
“Oh, who cares about that!” She dismisses my humiliation. Thanks, bitch. “I can’t believe Savior didn’t tell you he had a brother!”
“Brothers, plural. I knew he did but I never seen any pictures of Ocean. Trust me, I’ve looked.” I defended my actions, though I don’t understand why I had to. I didn’t do anything wrong other than spreading wide for Ocean. Okay, that just sounds weird.
Nikki takes a bite of her cheeseburger and shakes her head. “Savior is going to kick your ass.”
“Why?” I defend myself. “Why would he kick my ass? I would think he would trust his brother on seeing my lovely of lovelies than some other doctor.”
“Keisha, Keisha…” Nikki shakes her head. She’s not quite a golddigger, but in the word’s of Kanye, she won’t date a broke nigga. “…you have so much to learn about men, sweetheart.”
I slowly chew a French fry and stare her down. Nikki has dated her fair share of basketball players, CEOs, and other executive types. I think she’s low-key happy and jealous I’m with Savior but she’s insistent on giving me advice on how to handle him when I still don’t know if he likes coffee or tea.
“Why would Savior be upset that Ocean saw my pum-pum?” And he gave me a breast exam. And he signed off on my birth control. And I just might see him on Saturday. Oh shit.
“You don’t get it. You belong to Savior. That’s it. It doesn’t matter if it’s “90 days” or not.” It seems Nikki isn’t buying the 90 days bullshit, neither. “You are his. You’re his woman.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I clarify.
“Oh whatever,” Nikki rolls her eyes. “The moment he ate you out, you became his woman. He marked you and you both know it. He stuck his face down there – do you know how many men don’t want to do that and Savior willingly did it? He volunteered to eat you! That’s huge! He should buy you a better car for the privilege!” I gotta admire Nikki’s gold-digging hustle. If she thinks a girl is not getting the most buck for her bang, she’ll set them straight. She would make a great madam. “You showing your punani to Ocean is a no-no.”
“Well, technically speaking I didn’t just spread eagle and tell him, ‘Hey, you wanna see some brown sugar?’” I wiggle my eyebrows and Nikki busts up laughing. “I mean, how was I supposed to know Savior’s brother was going to be my gynecologist? Shit, I didn’t know! Had I known that, I would’ve scheduled with someone else!”
“Are you going to tell Savior?” She sips her chocolate shake. “He has to know about this.”
“For why?” I ask. “‘Hey, Savior. I got on birth control like you asked. By the way, your brother got a bird’s eye view of my yum-yum. Are you ready to fuck?’” I roll my eyes. “That’s not going to go over very well.”
“He has to know, Keisha. He’s not going to like you kept that from him. Imagine if his brother tells him first before you do?” Nikki mentions. “You don’t want that humiliation.”
The sad part is that Nikki’s right. But how do I tell him about this? I mean I’m not his girlfriend. Is it really going to make a difference that his brother saw my bald spot as he gave me a medical exam?
“Anyway, I’m here for an order. She takes out a folded piece of paper and slides it over to me. “It’s for my clientele.”
Nikki is a high-class drug dealer. Maybe she was inspired my daddy, I don’t know. She’s not the type of girl that looks like she could be a drug dealer, which why she’s able to get away with it as much as she does. And with Nikki’s high-maintenance ass, selling drugs might be the only way she can afford herself.
I grab the paper and open it. Nikki’s smart about her hustle and only uses street names for the drugs – White Girl, Beans, Bananas, and Bicycle Handle Bars. That, ladies and gentlemen, is code for cocaine, Oxycodone, Hydrocodone, and Xanax. And trust me, there are a lot more code words for those the DEA doesn’t even know about.
I slide the list back to Nikki. “The last three my daddy can give to you. The first one, you have to go through Jalen. My daddy doesn’t do that one.”
“Got it.” Nikki writes down a small note and tucks the note away. “So, what’s going on with you and Jalen? Assuming he’s no longer in the picture because of Savior?”
“Like he was firmly in the picture to begin with.” I roll my eyes. Lately, however, Jalen has been extra emotional as in he’s been texting me and calling me at random times. I went from being a convenient piece of ass to suddenly I’m top bitch? Not sure how I should feel about that. “Savior wants him gone.”
“Well, duh.” Nikki blinked. “Have you told Jalen about Savior?”
“And tell him what exactly?” I ask. “I’m seeing someone who won’t refer to me as his girlfriend but wants me to stop sleeping with Jalen because he doesn’t like to share?”
“It’s not like Jalen was going to propose marriage or make you a baby mama. Thank God neither took place.” Nikk does another eye roll. “He never appreciated you and only got with you because of who your dad is. If Prince wasn’t your daddy, Jalen would’ve never stepped to you. He’s wasting your time and worse yet, you both know he is. Drop him.”
“It’s coming, trust, it’s coming. It’ll probably happen tonight. Savior’s coming over to spend the night.”
“Awe sookie sookie now!” Nikki’s black side comes firmly out when she’s around me. My white girl voice is pretty good but Nikki should be awarded an Oscar for her acting. “Break out the champagne glasses and condoms!”
“Ooh, somebody’s been listening to ‘Pac and Snoop,” I sip on my soda, “good for you. Good for you.”
“I want a full-length dick report tomorrow. Do not spare. I need to know how those Bel-Air white boys get down.” She smiles like she just won an award.
“You’ve had pink dick. A lot of it, actually.” I point out. I don’t think Nikki’s ever had a black boyfriend and if she has, she kept him a secret she’ll take to the grave. “I’m sure it’s all the same.”
“No, it isn’t.” She insists. “Some guys can whip it out and send you to meet the Holy Ghost and some guys whip it out and you’re instantly singing the lyrics to “Short Dick Man.”” I bust up laughing and she follows. “Girl, you ain’t even know.”
“And I don’t want to! Trust me, I don’t want to!” I laugh. I get a buzz on my cell phone and my heart smiles to see it’s a message from Savior. Already I’m looking forward to his calls and texts like a lovesick groupie who just realized the lead singer of her favorite band is single: I’ll be running late tonight so I’ll be over around 10, if that’s okay?
I reply: Yeah, that’s fine.
How did the final go? Did you nail it?
I sure did! Thanks to you!
Nah, you did it. I might have helped some but you did all of the hard work.
It was a compliment I didn’t know I needed. Thank you.
Btw, my brother told me you passed the exam.
I sink down into my seat. “Remember when you just said I needed to tell Savior before his brother did?” I ask Nikki, who nods. “Yeah, scratch that.”
~~~~~~
After lunch, I head back home and clean up for Savior’s arrival. He’s not expected until way late, which is fine. It gives me time to scrub the house down and scrub my body down while I’m at it.
As I pull up the driveway, I see two people in business suits talking to my auntie. Gloria Jones is her name and well, she looks like the type that would be named that. She’s thin, with a voice that sounds like nails on a chalkboard, and bug eyes that reminds me of those Avatar people.
My auntie, when she wants to be, is a lovely woman who spends her days teaching L.A.’s worst at Compton high school. She has a Master’s degree and likes to mention it in every conversation she can.
She’s one of those women that probably would’ve gotten married and stayed married had her priorities not have been so messed up. She’s the type of woman who would stay with a dude who she has no future with but because he dicks her down just right, she bypasses a lot of his shit (gee, I wonder where I picked that up from).
It’s no surprise when my daddy gave me my late Granny’s home, Gloria had five or sex bitch fits about it. She doesn’t hesitate to tell everyone she’s going to leave the ‘hood, but when the opportunity is presented, she suddenly doesn’t want to. My auntie, when she’s bored and that’s often, loves to start shit and pick fights that got nothing to do with her.
You would think I’m talking about the typical middle-age black female who spends her days gossiping online with other don’t-have-a-man-but-have-cobwebs-in-their-punani- hens just like her, but no. My auntie is not even 40.
I have a lot to do today and my auntie isn’t gon’ fuck up my mood. I park the Beemer and get out, boasting the brightest smile that Colgate would be proud of as the gentlemen approach me.
“Hello.” A man with a deep voice smiles at me. He’s portly and has slick back hair that’s full of grease. He smells like he’s about to sell me some bullshit. “You must be Keisha.” He holds out his hand for me to shake and I just glance down at it and back at him.
“Let’s cut to the chase – who the hell are you?” I recognize a scammer when I see one.
“Keisha!” Gloria scolds me as she accompanies the men. “Where are your manners? I’m sorry, gentlemen, this is my niece, Keisha. She’s the owner of the duplex.” She glares at me. “She’s the one that’s responsible for all of the decisions around here.”
“I’m also the one that is responsible for letting you pay cheap rent and I don’t see you mouthing off about that.” I smartly reply and Gloria straightens her posture.
“My name is Edward Georgian and this my brother, Lance.” The man produces a business card and I recognize his last name being Armenian. Now my thoughts of him being a snake-oil salesman are correct. I should ask him how the rest of the Kardashians are doing. “We were wondering if you were interested in selling your property.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Keisha, listen to what the men have to say. They’ve made a very good first offer.” Gloria nods.
“An offer of money you won’t receive?” I reply. “I’m not selling the duplex.”
“What if we offer you right now, three hundred thousand?” Lance offers. He’s a bit taller than Mr. Kardashian and slimmer. I guess I was talking to Kim, and this one is Khloe. I wonder where Kourtney is. “What do you say?”
“I say you’re lowballing me from the jump and you hope my naiveté and age will prove I’m stupid enough to take you on that offer.” I produce a business card of my own. “If you’re serious about this home, you’ll call and speak with Prince Jones. He’s my father and my aunt’s brother. Good day, gentlemen.”
I make my way towards the house as I overhear my auntie apologize to the men for my rudeness and she assures them I’ll change my mind. I’m not even a few feet into my home when Gloria comes barging in. “You are so damn rude!”
“Why in the hell were you entertaining those men?” I ask. “This is not your home. You have no right to tell anyone what I plan to do with it.”
“Do you want to stay here in the ‘hood, Keisha? People are shot for no reason here! Didn’t a few of your friends die within the past few years because they were at the wrong place at the wrong time? Do you like being inside when it’s only six o’clock at night because if you step foot outside you might get shot? Do you like hearing helicopters and seeing police chases up and down our street? I don’t! I don’t want to stay here! I want to get the fuck out of Inglewood!”
“Then go!” I shout. “I’m not forcing you to stay here. If you want to leave, ain’t nobody stopping you from doing so. But what you not gon’ do, is talk to some scammers about me selling this home. You keep talking about black-owned this, black-owned that. How we need to have pride in our community. And then you gon’ get mad at me because I refuse to sell to some Kardashians? Woman, have you lost your damn mind?”
“You’re not going to get a better offer than that, Keisha!” Gloria shouts back. “You think any black realtors are going to offer 300 grand for this home? You think any Latino realtors are going to look out for you? They don’t care about you, Keisha. They don’t care about anyone than themselves. They ain’t trying to learn English, but you have to learn Spanish. How does that feel?”
“It feels like you voted for the wrong candidate this last election,” I smart back, “listen, I’m not selling the home until I’m ready and I don’t know when that’ll be. If you don’t want to stay here, don’t. But please, don’t worry about what I’m going to do when my decisions will not affect your life. Now please excuse me, I need to clean up my home.” I turn around to leave when Gloria stops me again.
“For that white boy that comes over?” She says. “That guy who only comes over for a few hours and leaves? You think I don’t know what’s going on? It’s obvious he’s using you and you’re letting him. I have to say he’s an upgrade from that Jalen fella, but not much. You think that white boy wants to come over here with the possibility he’s going to get shot every time he steps foot inside your home? You need to think about how your actions are affecting other people.”
I turn around and shake my head. If my auntie wanted to hurt me, she did a splendid job. “I sell this home and you’re not getting a dime. You think you’ll be able to stay here while Becky and Timmy gentrify the hell out of it? Rents are going up all over L.A. and everyone is being pushed out. You think it won’t apply to you? I can leave anytime and not look back, but you cannot say the same. I’m keeping this home because if I don’t, it’ll be you on the streets, not me. Now if you have anything else smart you want to say, save it. I have a guest coming over tonight and I need to smudge the hell out of this house to cleanse it from your negative bullshit. Good day!”