Player Haters (10 page)

I walked up the steps to Trent’s apartment and lit what must have been my twentieth cigarette of the day before I knocked on the door. I was still depressed over Prince and it didn’t seem like that was gonna disappear anytime soon. I was hoping Trent would cheer me up with some of his silly ass stories about his women. But to my surprise it wasn’t him that answered the door. It was a dark-skinned woman, about my height with a short natural hair-style, and she was wearing the robe I’d given Trent for Christmas. She was pretty and looked familiar, but I couldn’t place a name with the face to save my life. It was hard to keep track of all Trent’s women, since he went through them so fast. Whoever this one was, she must’ve had some money, ’cause Trent rarely had women over before five o’clock on a weekday. That’s because most of his women were at work so they could help him pay his bills.

“Hi, I’m Melanie, Trent’s sister. I think he’s expecting me.”

“Yeah, he is. Come on in. I’m Indigo. I think we met at Manhattan Proper a few weeks ago.” She extended her hand and I shook it, still unsure of just who she was. “Remember? I asked your brother to buy me a drink and he refused, acting all stink.”

“Oh, yeah. I knew you looked familiar.” I smiled politely as I walked past her into the living room. “I guess you got him to buy you that drink after all, didn’t you?”

“Now that you mention it, I guess I did.” She laughed and I joined in, although I wasn’t laughing at her joke. I was laughing at how stupid she was. I knew Trent was up to something that night, but I never imagined he’d be able to pull Indigo after the way he’d treated her. It never ceases to amaze me how stupid we women can be when it comes to men. I couldn’t wait to hear what BS Trent had run on her. Whatever it was, she went for it hook, line and sinker ’cause I was pretty sure she was the one who gave him the money to get his car outta hock.

“I see Trent’s got a new sofa.”

“Yeah, he kept whining about how uncomfortable his old one was so I went out and got him a new one. It’s leather.”

I ran my hand over the smooth, white surface. It wasn’t just leather, it was Italian leather. This thing must have cost her a fortune. Damn, this woman was looking stupider by the minute.

“What happened to the other one?” If she said he threw it out, I was not gonna be happy. Trent hadn’t had that sofa more than a year, and he knew mine had so many holes that Desiree and I had to lay a sheet over it whenever we had company.

“It’s in storage. You want it?” Trent walked out of his bedroom wearing a pair of boxers and a T-shirt. He was holding his head like he had a headache or a hangover but he still looked like he was about to pose for an underwear commercial.

“Yeah, I want it,” I snapped as I walked over and gave him a hug.

“Aw’ight. Then it’s yours,” he whispered, holding me tight. “So what’s this I hear you playing games with my man Prince?” He let out a laugh.

I let go of his waist and pushed him back. “Is that what he told you? That I was playing games?”

“No. But he was pretty upset. What’s going on, Mel?”

“Your boy Prince ain’t shit. That’s what’s going on.” I was giving him attitude like it was all his fault.

“Well, I told you to leave my friends alone, didn’t I?” His voice was sharp, so I didn’t answer. Trent shook his head and sat on the sofa.

“I don’t wanna hear that I-told-you-so crap, Trent.” I was trying to hold back my emotions.

“Com’ere, Melanie.” He patted the cushion next to him and I sat down, feeling like a child about to be lectured. “So what’s up? You really like Prince, don’t you?”

I glanced at Indigo. No way was I washing my dirty laundry in front of a complete stranger. I guess Trent must have sensed it.

“Hey, baby, can you give us a minute?” Indigo didn’t reply. She just walked back to the bedroom.

“So what’s up with Prince, honestly?” Trent sat back on the cushion.

“I don’t know. We went out and I was feelin’ him.”

“So why ain’t he shit? He didn’t try to take advantage of you or anything, did he?” Trent’s eyes got small.

“No, nothing like that. But he’s just like every other man I know, including you. He’s a fucking liar.”

“Fucking liar!” he repeated. “That’s a pretty strong statement, little sister. You sure you can back that up? I mean, I’m a liar. I admit it, but Prince…? That doesn’t sound like him.”

“Obviously we’re not talking about the same guy. What did he tell you, anyway?”

“Well, we actually had two conversations.” Trent sighed. “The first one was a couple of hours after you and him took that motorcycle ride.” I gave him this stunned look. I was surprised he knew about that ride. “Yeah, he told me about that. He also told me that he was feelin’ you too, and that he was sorry if I didn’t approve but he wanted me to know that he was gonna keep seeing you.”

“He said that?”

“Yeah, and that’s when I told him if he came within ten feet of you, I was gonna fuck both his sisters.”

“There you go hating again. Is that the reason he never called me?” If he said yes, I was gonna slap him.

“I doubt it. ’Cause he said he didn’t give a damn if I fucked his momma. He wasn’t gonna let an opportunity to be with someone as special as you slip away. He said he never felt like this about anybody. And then he said some crap about us being brothers-in-law one day and I’d understand then.”

I couldn’t help it. I was grinning from ear to ear.

“Don’t get all happy. He left here about an hour ago pissed off like a motherfucker. It seems a certain blond-dreaded sister named Melanie sold him a dream with no intention of waking his ass up.” Trent chuckled. “Mel, why you give my man a bogus number? I know I told you to stay away from him, but you ain’t had to do him like that. I mean, the brother does like you.”

“Like I said before, Trent, he’s a fucking liar. I gave him the right number.” Trent gave me a look of disbelief. “I know you don’t believe him over me?”

“You wanna know something funny, Mel? I do believe him over you.”

I lost all expression in my face. “What? Oh my God. This nigga got game. I can’t believe you, Trent. You know I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“I didn’t think so until…” He reached over to the end table closest to him and picked up a piece of paper. He handed it to me. “You remember this?”

I unfolded the paper. “Oh, shit!” It was the piece of paper I’d given Prince. Only it had a wrong number written on it. I’d reversed two of the digits. “How the fuck did I do that?”

“I don’t know, but I think you owe the brother an apology.” I looked up at Trent, embarrassed. “He’s a good man, Mel. And he really does like you. If I was a chick, I’d go for him.”

“I don’t have his number.”

“I do.”

“So you don’t mind if I talk to him?”

“No. Just don’t be stupid about it. He’s a good brother, but he’s still got a dick.” Trent smiled, picking up the phone. He dialed a number, then handed me the receiver.

“Peace.” I almost dropped the phone when I heard Prince’s voice.

“Prince?”

“Yeah.”

“This…this is Melanie.”

There was a silence before he spoke. “What’s up, Melanie?”

“I wanted to apologize for giving you the wrong number. It wasn’t done on purpose.”

“I know. Your brother told me.”

“He did?” I glanced at Trent. That was the first unselfish act I’d seen him do in ten years.

“Yeah. He told me you have dyslexia and that you have a problem transposing numbers from time to time.” I could kiss Trent right then, even if the thing about dyslexia was a lie. “I just don’t know why your girl acted that way.”

“You mean Desiree? How’d she act?”

“Never mind. It’s not important. Look, I got tickets to Def Poetry Jam tomorrow night at the Garden. Think you might wanna go?”

“Hell, yeah!” I shouted until I saw the expression on Trent’s face. “I mean, sure I’d like to go.”

“How about I meet you in front of your building at say, six o’clock?”

“It’s a date.”

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” He hung up, and I handed the phone back to Trent, who was smiling from ear to ear.

“So now that I’ve done you a little favor, you think you can do one for me?” I knew it was too good to be true.

“What kind of favor?”

“I need you to talk to your girl Michelle about this baby shit.”

“What you want me to talk to her about?”

“I want her to stop telling everybody that’s my baby. And tell her to stop calling these fucking talk shows. That bitch has entirely too much fucking time on her hands.”

“Talk shows? What talk shows?”

“She’s calling all these motherfucking talk shows and they’re driving me crazy. First it was Maury Povich trying to get me on his show to do a paternity test. Then it was Ricki Lake trying to get me on her show. What’s next, Jerry Springer? I’m about to change my cell phone number.” I couldn’t help it. I bust out laughing.

“I don’t see a damn thing funny, Melanie.”

“Why don’t you just call her? She probably just wants you to come see the baby.”

“I ain’t calling her. And I ain’t going to see no damn baby. That’s what I want you to do.”

“Let me ask you a question, Trent. Do you really think she’s going to all this trouble because that baby’s not yours? Why don’t you just go and get a blood test? ’Cause I’m not gonna lie, Trent. That baby looks just like you. Ask Momma.”

He glanced at me silently for a few seconds. “Look, Mel, you gonna go talk to her or what?”

“Let me think about it, okay? So what’s up with you and Indigo, anyway?”

“I’m thinking about asking her to marry me.”

I slapped his arm. “Stop playing, Trent. She’s gonna hear you.”

“I ain’t playing.”

“Yes, you are,” I told him adamantly.

“No, I’m not, Mel.”

“Look me in the eyes and say that.”

He got up in my face and stared at me. “I’m thinking about asking her to marry me.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

He nodded his head. “Yep.”

I lifted my hand and felt his forehead. “You feeling all right? You don’t have a fever or anything, do you?”

He pulled my hand down. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You sure? ’Cause first you tell me it’s all right for me to date your friend Prince and now you’re telling me you’re getting married. Those are sure signs that you must be sick.”

“So I’m sick because I finally found someone I might wanna settle down with?”

“Settle down with? For how long? Until the money runs out? A hundred thousand dollars isn’t a lot of money, Trent. Especially with your taste.”

“Yeah, baby sister, but a couple’a million could last a lifetime.” He smirked and I knew he was up to something.

“A couple of million? I thought she only hit the Pick Five for a hundred grand.”

“She did, but she’s about to hit the music lotto for a whole lot more.”

“What are you talking about, Trent? You know what, I’m not really sure I wanna know. Look, I gotta go, anyway. I’ve gotta get ready for my date.” We both stood and walked to the door. I kissed him on the cheek and opened the door.

“So what’s up? You gonna go see Michelle for me?”

“You need to go over there, Trent. Not me.”

“Mel, if I go over there, there’s gonna be nothing but drama,” he said.

“All right. Let me think about it.”

“Yeah. Have a good time with Prince tomorrow. He’s a good brother. But lemme give you one piece of advice before you go. Watch your back, ’cause your girl Desiree, she ain’t really your girl.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just watch your back, Mel.”

I was sitting on the living room sofa flipping through the morning talk shows when Indigo came up behind me and wrapped her arms around me and kissed me on the neck. I reached back and I could feel that she was still naked. She must have just read the poem I’d left on the pillow next to her. Well, I didn’t exactly write the poem. I got it off the Internet, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Good morning.” I turned my head toward her, and she kissed me passionately.

“Morning. Thanks for the poem. I didn’t know you wrote poetry.” She climbed over the sofa and sat in my lap.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”
A whole lot,
I thought as I kissed her.

“I can see that,” she replied. “Did you mean it? Did you really mean what you said? That you’re falling in love with me?”

“I told my sister yesterday that I think I’m already in love with you, Indigo. It’s just hard for me to admit with us being together for such a short time. Truth is, I wasn’t looking for this. And I’m afraid I might get hurt.”

“I know how you feel, but I already know I’m in love with you.” Her smile gave away her emotions. She really was in love with me. And if that were true, now was the time for me to put to rest this Russell Simmons crap. It was time to tell her the truth.

“Indigo, I have to tell you something,” I started reluctantly. “Something that’s probably not gonna make you very happy.” I leaned over to kiss her and she pulled back.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re married. Please don’t tell me you’re married.” She looked pissed off already.

“No, I’m not married. Not yet, anyway.”

“Not yet? What’s that supposed to mean?”

I smiled, squeezing her hand a little tighter, then looked in her eyes. “It means I’ve found the right woman. I just haven’t had a chance to ask her to marry me yet.” A smile widened across her face and I kissed her lips gently.

“God, you sure know how to make a girl feel good. But if you’re not married, what’s the bad news?”

I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly for effect. “Actually, I’ve got some good news and some bad news. Which would you like first?”

“Give me the bad news.” She sighed, bracing herself on my lap.

“Okay, Russell doesn’t like your demo.”

She closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them they were full of tears. “I thought it was something like that. Well, it was good while it lasted. At least I have my demo…even if it did cost me four thousand dollars.”

“Hey, did you forget I said I have some good news, too?”

She didn’t even look like she cared. “Okay, Trent. What’s the good news? I might as well hear something good this morning.”

“Just because Russell doesn’t see your talent doesn’t mean Big Mike and I don’t see it.” I lifted her off my lap and wiped away her tears. “I love you, Indigo, and I have faith in you. I told you when we first met I was gonna make you a star and I meant it. So I’m gonna quit my job at Def Jam and work exclusively on your career. I even talked Big Mike into managing you.”

She sucked up her tears and attempted a smile. “You’d really do that for me?”

“I got no choice. I’m in love with you. Oh, and there’s one other thing.”

“What’s that?”

I bent down on one knee, taking a long deep breath. I couldn’t believe what I was about to do and the more I thought about it the harder it became. So I tried to just spit it out.

“Indigo…Indigo…will you…will you marry me?”

Her eyes were as wide as silver dollars and she clutched her chest. “Are you serious? You really wanna marry me?”

“Yeah, if you’ll have me. I know I don’t have a ring right now, but we can go looking for one this week.”

She glanced down at my face. I think she was trying to read my eyes to see if I was sincere. Whatever she was looking at must have convinced her because she said, “Yes, yes, Trent. I’ll marry you.” She wrapped her arms around my neck and I scooped her up, carrying her into the bedroom.

Two hours later, Indigo and I had just had some of the most hair-raising sex I’d ever had. Sweat was dripping over both of us and I didn’t wanna move.

Shit,” I mumbled, slowly raising myself outta bed. I’d never had a phone installed in my bedroom because women had a habit of calling just when you had another woman in bed. I swear, it was like radar. And there is nothing that says guilty more than not answering a phone that’s ringing less than three feet away from you.

“Don’t answer it,” Indigo whispered, grabbing my arm. “I don’t want you to move.”

“I got to. It’s probably Mike.” She released my arm and I kissed her before heading for my little office to answer the phone.

“Hello.”

“Trent Duncan, please,” a man on the other end said in a very official tone. If I didn’t know better I would’ve thought he was a bill collector. But thanks to Indigo I wasn’t behind on any of my bills.

“This is Trent.”

“Hi Trent. My name’s Rueben Michaels.”

“How can I help you, Mr. Michaels?”

“To be honest, I was hoping I could help you.”

“Is that right? Well I don’t know you, so how you gonna help me?”

“How about by giving you a thousand dollars?”

“A thousand dollars! You’re gonna give me a thousand dollars. What type of scam is this?” I glanced at my Caller ID, thinking it was probably one of my boys trying to play a trick on me. But it was a 202 number, so I knew whoever it was had called from D.C. “Look, who the fuck is this? How’d you get my home number?”

“This isn’t a scam at all. I’m the producer for BET’s
Two Sides To A Story
show.”

“Two Sides To A Story
! Ah, hell no! What y’all want with me?”

Whatever it was, I was sure it had something to do with Michelle. That girl just wouldn’t quit.
Two Sides To A Story
was the BET version of
Ricki Lake
and
Jerry Springer,
only worse, ’cause no relationship ever left that show intact. When I watched it the other day, they had this show on infidelity where they set this brother up by putting this fine ass naked woman in his hotel room. Then the next day they showed the videotape of them having sex to his wife. Can you imagine? Now you know she flipped. But the fucked-up thing is, if you’d seen his ugly ass wife, you woulda went for the woman in the hotel room, too. What the fuck did they expect?

“Well, we’re doing a show on deadbeat dads. And your child’s mother, Michelle, called and told us about how you walked out of the delivery room.”

“Ah, hell no! First of all, that’s not my baby! Secondly, I’m not a deadbeat dad. If that baby were mine, I’d be taking care of him. But he’s not mine.”

“So why don’t you come on the show? We’ll give you a paternity test and you can prove you’re not the father. Settle this thing once and for all. Give your side of the story.”

“What, do you think I’m stupid? I know what time it is. I get on your show and prove I’m not the baby’s father and you gonna have some other reason to embarrass me. I ain’t stupid. I watch your show.”

“It’s not like that,” he insisted.

“Yeah, right. Look, I’m not going on your show, aw’ight?”

I was about to hang up when he said, “What if we pay you five thousand dollars?”

“Five grand! You’re willing to pay me five grand to come on your show?”

“We sure are.” I could see that motherfucker smiling through the phone.

“Ah, hell no! Now I know I’m not going on your show, ’cause if you’re willing to pay me that five grand, there’s more to this than meets the eye.” On that note, I hung up, deciding that it was time for me to pay Michelle a visit.