Get Ready for War (26 page)

I sighed. There was no getting this girl to shut up. “Rich. Will you shut up!”

“I'm just saying, London. Is there something you want to tell me? Because I'm trying to figure out why you keep using terms like us breaking up. That's real gross. I don't do the rainbow. Now you can handle your scandal anyway you want to, but there will be no lucky charms over here!”

“My God! Just be quiet. I said I would go!”

“You don't tell me to be quiet. You're not going to bully me. So you better get your mind right. Now, the driver is outside. And you are expected to get dressed and get in that car. Time is money. Money is time. Do you understand? I'll talk to you when you get here. Now bye.”

As I went to hang up, I could hear Rich speaking to someone in the background. “Baby, I don't know what the hell is wrong with that London. But she tore my nerves all the way down to the floor with her craziness. Did you hear me trying to talk some sense into her? The girl's crazy. Now I see why no one likes her. But I kinda like her . . . but she is demanding. And real stuck on herself . . .”

I blinked in shock. I couldn't believe she was talking about
me
. How two-faced!

“Rich? Rich?”

“... And she's always running her mouth. She won't even give me five minutes to get a word in, without her cutting me off. Ohmygod she's so rude. So, yeah. We need to let Midnight do her right so she can wake up to a good morning. And I know he will rock that big boat of hers . . .”

I blinked again. “Rich? Rich?”

“Hello? Ooops. Girl, you still on the phone. I was just talking about you. I have a real cutie for you, girl. But anyway, you have thirty minutes to primp, pamper, and pounce out the door. I already have your weekend bag packed. I had my stylist hook you up. So, let's get it-get-it. Now chop, chop! We're going to set the roof on fire.”

I blinked. “I hope you didn't mean that literally?”

 

An hour and a half later, the limo was pulling up in front of this huge two-story purple house with gold shutters. There were a slew of Ques all donned in their fraternity's paraphernalia hanging outside. Although I had never partied with any of them, I was familiar with the fraternity because of my father. He was a Que, too. But he wasn't a goon. These dudes standing out here were goons . . .

I tapped on the glass partition. “Excuse me, driver. This must be the wrong address. There has to be a mistake.”

“No, ma'am. This is where Miss Rich instructed me to bring you. Perhaps you should finish your glass of champagne to help you get through the night.”

“Yeah, I think you're right,” I said, lifting the flute and guzzling the bubbly down. I poured another drink, feeling like this was going to be a very long night. Just as I put the flute up to my lips, the limo door swung open, startling me.

“Girrrrrl, let's go! Get out! I got your drink here! And your man over there”—she pointed in back of her—“and he's been hounding me all night about you.”

I blinked. Rich snatched the flute from out of my hand, guzzled back the champagne, then tossed the empty glass into the limo, grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out.

She leaned into my ear and whispered, “Girl, I walked in on your new boo one night in the bathroom, coming out of the shower, and he has the Rock of Gibraltar. Whew! You can swing with it, rock with it. But you don't have to call him in the morning, girl. Two hundred dollars on the nightstand and a Dear John letter is all you need.”

“Rich, have you lost your mind? You must be drunk. I'm not sleeping with none of these boys; and especially some boy called
Monster
.”

“His name is Mid. Night. Not Monster.”

I twisted my lips. “Well, what
ever
his name is, I'm not sleeping with him. I don't do random sex.”

“Oh my . . . clutching pearls. You're not a virgin are you, girl? I should have had the driver stop by the church first. 'Cause we're tossing all virtue out the window tonight, girl. We're gonna get our sin on.”

“Daaaaayum, Rich!” This tall, lanky, dark chocolate guy said as he licked his lips. “You got that off real lovely, baby girl.” He gave Rich a pound, then turned to me and made an hourglass shape with his hands. “Bam! You a glamazon just like Rich said. Just how I like 'em.”

I gave him a blank stare.

Rich smacked her lips, then popped her collar. “I told you my girl was all that. Excuse her attitude, though, 'cause she can get real stink sometimes. But she doesn't mean any harm. But when your mother is a rigid top model and your father got his pants up his behind and his tie knotted all tight, what you expect? This is what they're going to produce.”

I blinked.
Here this ho goes again, disrespecting me.

“Daayum, baby, you look good. They call me Midnight, but you can call me all night. You a big, sweet, juicy jawn. Juicy like . . . Roscoe's chicken and waffles; real juicy with ribs and red Kool-Aid on the side and fluffy mashed potatoes. And your face”—he licked his lips—“is so beautiful, like buttery cornbread. I just wanna lick all over your face with your sweet, tasty-looking self. And I promise not to leave any crumbs behind . . .”

He dragged his eyes up and down my body as if he were trying to undress me. “Baaaaby-boo, you're prettier than a batch of fried chicken fresh out the grease. Daayum, how tall are you, baby, like seven feet? You're like the Statue of Liberty. Tall and solid. I've wanted to climb all through the Statue of Liberty for a long time. I asked her to marry me last year, and she still hasn't answered me. I think she got mad when I told her that her last name couldn't be Liberty anymore. It was gonna be Johnson. Statue of Johnson. Now that's hot... That's gon' be yo' name.”

I blinked.
My God... this fool must be related to Rich with his nonstop motormouth!

“... Ya girl told me you're from New York. You know we're neighbors, right? I'm from Philly. You know, like the City of Brotherly Love, like Philly cheesesteak, like the Seventy-Sixers. I thought I was out here for an education, but after seeing you. Daayum...I know I'm out here to break yo' back in, and run my seeds all in you . . .”

My eyes popped open. “Rich, get this nasty fly out of my face before I go the hell off on his crusty azz.”

He grinned, keeping his eyes on me. “Nah, baby. That's what I want. I want you to go off on me. I like it dirty. Mistreat me, you sexy biscuit. You gonna make me smear gravy all over them pretty lips, then suck it off. Talking dirty is a fetish of mine. As long as we end up in that bed, I don't give a damn what comes out ya mouth.”

Rich huffed. “Damn, Midnight! See, you don't listen. I told you to go in easy on London. I told you she was a prude. You can't be talking to her all rough and dirty like that. Talking about some waffles, chickens, and ribs. And breaking her back in. And licking gravy off her lips. She's not trying to eat. She's gonna think you're ghetto.”

Think? Oh no. Too late! He
is
ghetto!

“A'ight, a'ight, Rich. I got this. I'm just excited. She's so beautiful. I need me a bib to catch the drool. I'ma need me some wipes for the rock in my pocket, too.” He jutted out his pelvis, then gyrated his hips. “Pow! Pow-pow-pow! I'ma take you home to meet my mother. She likes big 'n' tall girls, too.”

Rich grabbed her neck. “
Whaaat?!
Clutching pearls. That's where I draw the line, Midnight. Your mother likes Amazons, too? That ain't cute. That's not a compliment. You think London wants to look like this? She's cute in the face and all. But that body. She doesn't want that body. And there ain't no diet for too much height. She's stuck with this for life.”

“Wait a minute, Rich,” I snapped, shifting my handbag from one hand to the other. “I've about had enough of you and your pet snake here. I don't need you taking up for me.”

“Oh no. That's it. See, boy, you got my girl all upset. You make me sick, Midnight. Come on, London, before this boy tears your self-esteem up. Let him get his mind right, and his family tree together.” She snatched me by the arm and started pulling me up the walkway as she swished her hips toward the house before I could resist.

“Ooowwwww,” Rich said, popping her hips up the stairs. “This is my girl right here, y'all. Smile for the cameras, London. I'm sure they're somewhere around.”

All of the guys hanging out on the porch spoke; a few whistled and catcalled; others simply winked. But I ignored them and Rich paid them no mind as she dragged me into the house. I couldn't believe my eyes as we stepped into a sea of purple and gold, a crest of royal blue and white, waves of pink and green, crimson and cream, black and gold, all flooding the room under the glow of strobe lights and disco balls.

Combat boots were making drum beats against the wood floor. Competitive catcalls and dog barks floated into the music. The DJ was pumping a Waka Flocka Flame jam and had everybody on the floor. Dollar bills were being tossed up in the air like confetti. The energy was on high. And despite not really wanting to be there, the party felt free and exciting. Something I needed, but didn't know what to do with it.

“Girl, loosen up,” Rich screamed in my ear. She dropped it to the floor, then made her booty clap, then snapped back up. “Owwww. . .” She dipped at the knees, then made it clap again. “Whatever is on your mind, boo, let it go. It doesn't exist in here. This is all that matters.”

She reached for the hand of the same guy I had seen her with outside at school and I knew for sure it was Knox. She shook her booty and gyrated into his crotch, then dropped down and did a split. Rich was in rare form. She snapped back up, then grabbed her ankles. Knox held up a bottle of beer in his hand, while Rich threw her hands up in the air and shouted, “Look, ma, no hands!”

Everyone was having a good time. Everyone . . . except me! I scanned the packed room of partygoers. Sweat was dripping everywhere. My jaw dropped open when I spotted Anderson. Anderson!

He held a magnum of champagne up in the air and was sandwiched between two brown-skinned chicks who wore matching pink and green T-shirts and short denim skirts. They did their sorority call, then switched positions. Anderson looked relaxed, like he didn't have a care in the world. Judging by the way he was laughing and jumping up in the air, and barking over the music, I could tell he was having a good time as the two girls pressed their bodies into his.

Wearing dark jeans, a purple wifebeater with his fraternity's symbols in big gold letters emblazoned across his chest, I had to admit Anderson looked . . . good. As hard as I tried not to look, I caught myself staring at his thick muscled biceps, trying to remember if he'd always had arms like that. Or if tonight was the first time that I had noticed them.

I shook the thought.

I'm not going to lie. I don't know why, but I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. Every time I shifted my eyes to take in the rest of the party, my eyes would land right back on him. I really screwed up, texting him those nasty things. Anderson was right. He was always there for me, even when I didn't want him to be. He really didn't deserve to be crapped on. I was connected to him whether I wanted to be or not. He knew a whole lot about who I was. And I really felt bad about hurting his feelings. Seemed like I was hurting everybody around me; most of all, myself.

I looked on amazed and amused as different girls danced their way up to Anderson, grabbing all over him. His body glistened from a mixture of oil and sweat. A pang of envy shot through me as four girls encircled him and started dancing around him, chanting, “Go, C-Smoove! Go, C-Smoove! Go, Smoove . . .”

I looked over at Rich and Knox again. They were in their own love zone. I couldn't help but smile as Rich slid between Knox's legs, then tried to hump up on his butt. He turned around laughing, then pulled her into him and kissed her on the lips. They tongued each other down, then went back to dancing. Meek Mill's “House Party” started playing and the crowd started jumping up and down, singing, until the DJ eased in “Lean Wit' It”; then the crowd got wilder.

My eyes zoomed back over to Anderson. The four girls who had been dancing with him earlier had left and he was now dancing with this real cute girl with a sexy short haircut. She wore a crimson T-shirt with her sorority symbols in cream lettering. The two of them looked real cozy dancing together. Anderson started leaning and rocking with it, then pop-locking it. Then he did the Laffy Taffy, followed by the Tootsie Roll, then he kicked one leg up as if he was taking a piss and started humping into the air. The girl he danced with broke out in laughter when he started doing the Robot. I couldn't believe this was the uptight Anderson I knew. He handed the chick the bottle he held in his hand. She took a swig, then handed it back to him.

Then the chick had the nerve to flick his chin. And he grinned. Then her arms flung up around his neck as she swayed to the beats. His hand dipped down to the small of her back as if he was pulling her deeper into him. Then he whispered something into her ear and the chick threw her head back and laughed. And for some reason, I was feeling some kind of way watching all of this unfold right before me. He wasn't really my man. And I had never looked at him like that. Still...