“Baby, I know this thing with Wilson has twisted you all around inside, but you need to be careful.” I didn’t have to say anything. I knew she would elaborate. “You have to watch out for those bull…lesbians. And don’t go turning into one of those man-hatin’ women. A woman needs a man. I know you young girls think all you need is a pocketful of money and one of those vibrators, but you can get hooked on those things.” She whispered the last part.
“What?” It was my policy not to ask my mother questions when she was giving advice, but she caught me off guard.
“You can get hooked on those things…your sister did.”
“Mom, how would you know that?” I had to ask.
“Well, remember when I went to visit your sister in Atlanta after her and Pierce got divorced? She had one of those vibrators sitting up on the couch. It was a big green one. She introduced it to me; she was calling it Derrick. Saying she was going to have ‘him’ fitted for a custom suit so he could start going with her to social functions.
“Before I went to sleep that night she apologized because he didn’t speak to me. She said he had laryngitis. I think she brought that thing back to Carolina with her. You know she hasn’t had a date in three years.” She stood up from the table and patted me on the back.
“All I’m saying is, get you some real dick, honey.”
Like I said, my mom is crazy…crazy like a fox. I kissed her smooth brown cheek without comment. I knew from experience that one sarcastic comment from me and I could kiss my carrot cake good-bye. I took my empty plate to the sink and picked up the uncut cake.
“It’s not enough cake to share with everyone at the party so I’ll probably just take it to work with me tomorrow and share with some of the other associates.” She walked me back to the front door where I kissed her again. “Tell Dad I said hi.”
“Think about what I said!” I heard her shout out just as I was pulling away from the curb.
CHAPTER 2
I felt it was imperative that I look like a million dollars at my divorce celebration. Therefore, I am pleased to report that when I walked into Ray’s that night the door man wouldn’t take my money, the dj stopped the music when he saw me, mouths fell open as I walked by, and I got four indecent proposals and two marriage proposals before I made it to the room where my party was being held. Okay, that didn’t really happen…but the doorman did let me in at no charge (something about it being ladies’ night), and I looked damned good!
Nicole was in the private room giving last-minute instructions to the female bartender—we had decided that it would be best not to invite any men to the party, because at some point there was bound to be some male bashing (good-natured, of course). I walked to the free-standing bar in the back corner of the room and greeted my friend with a hug. She hugged me back tight and handed me the glass of champagne that she had waiting for me.
“You look good,” she told me as I took a sip from the glass. I twirled around in my knee-length red jersey dress, pulled the thigh-high split to the side, and positioned my size eight—okay, size nine—silver sandal so that she could pay proper homage to my entire ensemble. She laughed and grabbed me so fast for another hug that I almost spilled my champagne. “I take that back, you look great.”
“So do you.” Nicole and I could have been sisters except we had different parents and our looks were totally opposite. Nicole was about five feet tall and had been blessed/cursed with a Betty Boop body. She wore her naturally curly hair cropped close to her head, and dimples were on each of her golden brown cheeks.
I’m five eight, have skin the color of 2% chocolate milk like my mama, honey-colored eyes like my daddy, and a thing about getting my hair cut like my grandmother. I usually wore my hair in some sort of sophisticated updo, but for the occasion of my coming out party, I let the black curls hang past my shoulders. Nicole and I didn’t look like sisters, but as far as I was concerned, we were.
“I want you to look at the buffet.” She motioned for the bartender to top off my champagne before I followed her to the buffet. It was perfect—fruit, cheese, vegetables, dips, and crackers. I lifted the lid of a beautiful sterling chafing dish to discover shrimp etouffee (one of my favorites); another chafing dish was filled with chicken breast and vegetables in a delicious-smelling cream sauce. Soft-looking rolls were piled high in a straw bread basket.
“Everything looks great, Nicole.”
“Check out the cake.” She gestured to a small table at the very end of the buffet. On it was an elaborate pink and white cake with GIRLS RULE…BOYS DROOL written in fancy script in the center of the cake. The childish truism made me smile. I turned to my friend again and was surprised to feel tears gathering in the corners of my eyes.
She took both of my hands in hers and smiled brightly at me. “I know, I know.”
“I know you know, but I’m going to say it anyway. You’ve been such a blessing to me during the last year. I don’t know what I would have done without your support. You have single handedly kept ex-hole out of a casket and me out of prison.’’ She laughed like she was supposed to, but I was serious.
“I think you’ve spent more time with me this last year than you have with Anderson. When you get home tonight, tell your husband that I am officially giving him his wife back.” I looked around the room again, then back at Nicole with gratitude. “And helping me throw this party together on such short notice…What can I say? I love you, girl.”
“I love you, too, Fiona. You know you’re my sister.”
A tear spilled down her cheek and got caught in one of her dimples. I started to go ahead and give in and let my emotion flow down my cheeks, but my foundation cost $45 a bottle, and hello, we were having a party. “Suck it up,” I told her, “my first guest has arrived.”
A couple of hours later, the twenty-six most fabulous women that we knew, several that we didn’t know, and my sister were feeling “nothing else to drink for me because I have to drive home tonight” mellow. I was feeling “not only will I not be driving tonight, I won’t be going into my office tomorrow morning, so I can drink whatever the hell I want” mellow. We were all having a great time. The buffet was almost down to the bare bones, but the cake was still intact, waiting patiently for someone to cut into it.
A couple of women, Renessa from law school and Toni, my best office buddy, had expressed their condolences to me because of the sudden death of my marriage. I informed them without missing a beat that the party was a celebration and condolences were out of order. My sister was sitting in a corner talking to a woman we had grown up with. Her name was Beverly, and Ramona knew that I didn’t like her, which was probably why she had invited her to my party. The fact that my sister doesn’t like me is not at all worrisome to me, because the truth is, she doesn’t like anyone.
I didn’t like Beverly because she had stolen my first boyfriend. Well, Terry wasn’t exactly my first boyfriend, but he was the first boy who I had seriously considered having sex with. I guess I considered too long, because before I could say “yeah” or “nay,” Beverly just stepped up to the plate—or to be more accurate, the north side of our high school building—and gave him what he had been begging me for.
I took the last sip from the champagne flute that I was holding and stared at Beverly long and hard. It seemed to me that sisters had been interfering with my love life since before I really had one. I went to the bar for a refill before I allowed my somber thoughts to clear my head. I was swaying to the beat of the music and enjoying watching my friends enjoying themselves when I noticed Nicole making her way to the center of the room.
She lifted her glass up and tapped on it with a fork that she had removed from the buffet. “May I have your attention, ladies?” When she didn’t get everyone’s attention, she repeated the words a little louder. “Ladies, please, your attention.” When nearly everyone was quiet and most eyes were focused on her, she started to speak.