the sound:
SWV
the pages:
Demolition Angel
the screen:
In Plain Sight
THE CAST(updated: 05/06/08)
this is now
back then
i love notes
leave your words
recently...
2008-07-24 - Don't Hate Me Cause I'm Boring
2008-07-23 - Claiming the Dream?
2008-07-18 - Miles and Miles to Go
2008-07-15 - Not Killing Justin
2008-07-14 - Something Like Nostalgia
The Land of Diaries
Other Queendoms
2008-07-01
4:17 PM
The Cause and Cure
When I met Justin at my place, I had been running around all day with my mom. I felt gross and sweaty so I gave him the remote control and jumped in the shower. He threatened to come take a peek and while I doubted he would, I locked the door.
It was quiet when I got out so I looked out in the living room. That fool was laid out on my couch – snoring softly - with the Dodgers and Angels watching him.
I woke him up and freshened his drink, offering to let him move in, splitting the rent (and cable) 50/50 - but I would get the bedroom and the gated parking space.
His counter offer was half the rent, all of the cable and sex two times a week.
I pretended to mull it over:
“Sex three times a week… but you pay 70% and I’ll pay 30%”And sometime in the middle of the visit, quite nonchalantly, he said: “You’re still in love with Miles.”Well, I never said I messed with stupid dudes.
:::
Three hours after Justin made his less than inspired departure my phone was ringing.
It was Steve.
He was coming from a party where someone had gotten shot. In the back.
“What,” I asked from the safety of my home, “Someone got shot? What year is this? They still shoot people?”Steve seemed seriously shook up from the shooting telling me that he had seen the guy lying on the street.
“Where are you going,” I asked.When he got to my place he got a couple phone calls from people who had also been at the party and wanted to re-hash, re-enact, and discuss. You know, the stuff that people do when faced with a traumatic event. Finally we settled down. I scooped him some ice cream, got myself some lemon sorbet and we watched the Al Green Tribute that I had dvr’ed.“You want me to come over?”
“You know I do, quit playing with me.”
Holy shit!!! Anthony Hamilton’s version of Tired of Being Alone moves my soul. No, seriously, like it almost hurts how deep it gets in there.
“I guess you know that I… love you so… even though… you don’t want me no more…”But Maxwell’s version of Simply Beautiful?
Well… well that got Steve laid.
Yep, when Maxwell was done singing, I gathered the dishes, turned off the tv and headed toward the bedroom without saying a word.
Steve followed me.
In the darkness, our bodies spoke to each other in the most ancient of primal languages, then he pulled me on top of him.
Usher encouraged me from somewhere to my left, “That’s what it’s made for…”
And then? Then, at 3:00 AM as I straddled him, his hands on my breats, our bodies pushing and pulling, his phone rang.
“What bitch is calling you right now,” I half demanded, but too swept away in the dance of our bodies to truly care or try to stop what we were doing.The phone rang again, this time breaking the reverie.“I… don’t… know…” he managed from beneath me.
I went for his throat.
No. Seriously. I tried to choke him.
“Stop it, girl, stop,” he pulled my hands from his neck, then gripped my hips and held me tighter, “Oooh… oh… oh… get up…”The last part, the get up part, was whispered and I didn’t. I was too deep inside moment and I only vaguely heard the spoken command that conflicted with his body language.
Moments later I lay with my back to him, spent, trying to catch my breath.
He tried to pull me to him, to wrap me up in his arms.
I pulled away.
“I’m mad at you,” I mumbled.I turned my back, dismissively, on the man who has twelve inches and 100 pounds on me.“I’m mad at you,” he informed me.
“You’re mad at me,” I asked incredulously, wiggling around to face him, “How could you possibly be mad at me?”
“You didn’t let me put a condom on.”
“Who the hell was calling you?”He must have been just a little sex drugged or plain old afraid of me, because he did what I asked.“I don’t know.”
“Then. Open. Your. Phone. And. Find. Out.”
“It’s just some girl I know – but we aren’t involved.”He told me her name (I already forgot what it is), said they were friends and talked from time to time. He said that she was supposed to have been at the same party that he had been at that night and probably wanted to talk about the shooting, etc. He assured me that nothing was going on between them:“What’s her name,” I growled.
“We’re just friends. She might have been interested in me when we met, but she was dating a guy I know, and I don’t get down like that. Besides I’m here with you.”Sure I was mad at him. I was mad in a way that you can only be when a) that’s not your man, b) you are in love with someone else [Miles] and c) you had been engaged in some heavy petting and tongue action with a different someone else [Justin] only hours before.“You are only here with me because you aren’t with her. She called twice which means that she really expected her phone call to be answered. Like, I can’t believe he didn’t answer my call…let me try again. I hate you.”
“Hate is a strong word.”
“Not strong enough,” I said, but I lacked conviction.
He got up and teased me, “I’m gonna leave.”I scooted down and put my feet in his chest and shoved him backward.
“Girl, why are you crazy? I’m just kidding. I just want to get under the comforter, move, so you can get under, too.”Begrudgingly, I rolled to my right so he could lift my side, too.
He got next to me and pulled the covers over both of us. Once again he pulled me close. This time I let him.
We drifted off to sleep in a sticky mess of limbs and (my) hair.
:::
Oh, I have two new pairs of shoes…
Lala gave me the first pair because they were too tight for her, and the other pair are the shoes I was going to buy myself when I lost 20 pounds. That would be the pair that I have no business owning because I only lost 17 pounds.
Tough shit.
Saturday is the barbecue and Miles will not be coming though O’Moronic (formerly known as OM) will be there. I deserved the new shoes.
From Lala:
From Me:
