Chardonnay: A Novel Page 6

  “Hey Hon! Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” I waved and looked up at Slim who was watching every move of our conversation and the turn of events happening around us. Micah looked at him and pointed asking,

  “Is he going to be here the whole time as well, sugar doll, because I can’t have every—”

  “No, he won’t. He’s checking out the scene for me.”

  Micah was concerned about people knowing his celebrity in Kansas City. He valued his friendships too much to be used which showed what type of friends he had. Except me.

  “Well I talked with a rep with Vogue. They loved you!”

  I tried to be enthusiastic about the news but yesterday’s events still had my full attention. I looked up at Slim giving him the assuring look that I would be okay.

  “You sure?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’ll be having Zasmyth pick me up.”

  Slim didn’t protest on that but I knew he wanted to make an effort to do so. He kissed me on the cheek as Micah watched and then slowly walked out the restaurant, taking glances at me as he did so. I turned to face Micah and knew I would have to answer questions.

  “Umm, Chardonnay that doesn’t look like the Fiancé I saw in your pictures...Lord knows I can’t forget his face, although that boy toy there was cute...I’m sure that’s all he is to you, right.”

  It amused me how well Micah knew me better than my girls did at times, but I answered, “No...He’s not my boy toy, and what about Vogue...damn I need this.”

  “With your experience they feel as if they could work with you but...”

  “But what?”

  “They say you don’t have much experience with fashion.”

  Micah looked over my dingy clothes from yesterday and said,

  “And by the way you look today you flunked your wardrobe stylist test. Chile—what’s going on with you, you always look fly!”

  “Whatever, I know a lot about fashion.” I said stuffing my tweed jacket into my huge purple Chanel bag.

  “Oh honey no, you smashing the cashmere! You know fashion my ass!” said Micah snatching my jacket from me and rubbing it gently with his manicured nails.

  “I don’t need—”

  “Chile, you gonna have to kiss Andre Leon Tally’s beautiful behind to work for Vogue!”

  “Who’s that?!”

  “Oh my, we have a lot of work to do.” Micah said taking a last sip of his Chai tea and then pulling my arm up so we could go.

  “What are you doing?” I asked unaware of where he was taking me.

  “To get you out these clothes because you look like a distressed mess!” he said hauling me off doing his signature masculine, yet feminine runway walk.

  After Micah took me shopping, out to eat, and more shopping until the mall closed, I told him to drop me off at home. I dreaded going but I knew I had to. I told Zasmyth that I would meet up with her later. When I asked her if she’d talked to Konnie since I hadn’t heard from her after pulling off with Myron, she said no. I waved off to Micah as I got out his car and looked head on at the three leveled Mediterranean style home my father drew out and built with constructive and diligent Mexicans a little after I was born. My father believed in making jobs for everyone, yet he didn’t bypass figurative ways to save a dollar. I took the side entrance door that was always unlocked, leading from the garage and shut the door silently. My stomach grumbled just as I neared the refrigerator and I opened it, illuminating the chef’s kitchen my mother had designed custom to her taste. I took out a carton of milk, a box of cream cheese Danishes, and some of my father’s baked basil chicken and placed it all on the island, that stood in the middle of the Italian tiled green and yellow floor. I poured the cold milk into a wide coffee mug and snatched a paper napkin off the roll sitting right to the garden sink. I placed the napkin on the revolving glass in the microwave after opening it and set the mug on top of it. Once the timer was set, I stepped back and jumped up on the stool to the island table. This was possibly the first time I had been alone without any interruptions in three months. I took deep breaths and closed my eyes...

  ...I was four-years-old again, dancing to Whitney Houston’s You Give good Love to Me in my mother’s red Gucci high heel shoes, black pearls, and cream colored mink coat. I had on some scarlet lipstick that I somehow remember being on my lips perfectly. I had used it as a blush as well, just like I had seen my mother do, before the days of matte or mouse blush creams. Only mine wasn’t patted on neatly, it was in circles on my pudgy baby face and mascara was all over my eyebrows. I could see my reflection in my parent’s mirror that sat above their dresser as I jumped up and down in their huge circle bed. My golden curls in my hair bounced happily as I giggled and fell into the pile of pillows. Suddenly my mother stormed into the bed room crying. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be in her clothes or make-up but I didn’t know it would have made mommy that upset. So I sat still, buried in the pillows and waited for my mother to command me out of her and my father’s bedroom, but that reaction never came. She ran towards the closet digging for something and then came back out with a dusty box...I could see her pull a letter out. She didn’t even notice the scarfs and tubes of lipstick I had strolled all over the floor. I listened on to my mother speak to herself reading back the letter as I sat quietly.

  “January ninth. You were never for sale and I must understand that you are a part of me. That’s what they told me, even after saying I must let go because you ultimately came from him,” My mother began to weep harder after she read those words. I sat in silence as I tried to understand what it all meant to her and from whom. She continued with,“our love was one of captivation...and in those times I was told that my love was what was of thirst, not other foreign seas that were swam in for years. You were never abandoned.” My mother wiped her eyes, placing her hands to her stomach...I was so confused then about what I had witnessed, just as I am today. She never knew I was in the room and that was the only time I’d ever seen my mother cry. She was so beautiful in that vulnerable state to me even as a child.

  The microwave sounded just as a hand touched my shoulder. I jumped from both disturbances and looked over to my left to see my little sister Jersey. She was rubbing the sleep out her eyes, and her sleek black hair was draped over her shoulders. At sixteen-years-old, she had the absolute effect on boys as I did with her milky smooth chocolate skin, dimple face, and glowing jet black deep set eyes. We were totally opposites. She was the kind of girl that knew she had it going on and no one could faze her in telling her otherwise. I smiled at her as she threw her hip out and said, “When you get home?”

  I touched her hair and flicked it while removing myself from the stool.

  “Well, I’ve been in the city for a good minute, chica. You’re looking grown and cute.” I said, pulling my warm milk out the microwave.

  “Ha! Chica you crazy! I’m grown and sexy!”

  I laughed since I awaited her familiar response. Jersey’s confidence perhaps had been thanks to many guys in our rich as soy milk neighborhood, including Mystro. But it was the naturalistic character of her presence that had many men fooled or in other words schooled before she even walked through the door of womanhood. I wasn’t sure my little sis had ever had sex, but I knew she wasn’t above having little boyfriends here and there. Once I left the neighborhood Jersey was the next hot girl on the block to get. And every guy was lined up for a chance before my parents could assign her a particular guy as they had done to me. But Jersey never had that put in her psyche. She was dating who ever she wanted to date and my mother would surely approve as long as they had money.

  I chuckled at her and sipped my milk. She sat on the stool and opened the box of Danishes.

  “So what’s new?” I asked.

  “Hump!You. I heard on the block what happened with the Mr. Sexy Myron.”

  I shook my head as she bit down on the Danish; the child had grown up without my permission.

  “Shut up,” I walked over to the island an
d sat in the stool next to her and grabbed Danish myself.

  “It’s grown folks business. And how you know anyway?”

  “Everyone talking about it. You betta be glad momma and daddy ain’t here.”

  I shook my head and sighed,

  “Where are they?”

  “Went looking for you...what’s going on sis? Myron is a hot topic and got money out the ass?”

  I looked at Jersey and knew she could never understand where I was coming from since at sixteen-years-old anything was fair game. She would roll with the breeze if our parents let her.

  “It’s about more than how fine he is or how fat his pockets are, and I can tell you now I’ve been digging in his pockets enough to have paid off two mortgages and a car note, along with the little allowance our parents gives us a week. But...Jersey, when a dude don’t treat you like he’s supposed to, are you gonna keep letting him buy your love?”

  “Yelp! Right until I find another one!”

  “Yeah, another one just like him, be careful what you wish for.”

  She rolled her eyes and opened the Tupperware lid that held the delectable scent of our father’s basil chicken. She took a cold leg and gave me a wing, my favorite part of the chicken.

  “You think Mystro stuck up?” she asked.

  “No, why?” I said laughing, she always thought something was wrong with the guy if he didn’t want anything to do with her instead of her thinking something was wrong with her. But I liked that about her.

  “I was at the Legends mall in Kansas last weekend and I saw him strolling with this girl,” Jersey smirked and went on to say,

  “She wasn’t Katura. So, me and my crew went ovah to speak and he just nudged his chin my way and told me some bullshit story about him having to be somewhere, when I could blatantly see him wasting his precious little time walking around with this girl they call Vee.”

  I sipped some more of my milk and said, “Oh really.”

  “Uhn huh. So if the girl he was wit could pull him from Katura, I know I could—Nay she was busted!”

  “But—her ass wasn’t was it?”

  “Nope. She could have been the pin up girl for Apple Bottoms if her frontal wasn’t such a disgrace.”

  We laughed and for the first time I felt as if we were in close enough age to tell her everything that was going on at that point of my life. But I didn’t after what she told me next.

  “So I tested him...please don’t be mad at me Chardonnay,”

  I looked at her. I knew Jersey had a crush on Mystro, hell they were the same age, but I just knew she wouldn’t fall for his hype like every girl in a thousand mile radius who had ever heard of him had.

  “Two days ago, I gave him my virginity.”

  I could have gone through the roof. I held my head down and placed my hand on my forehead, rubbing it gently.

  Not only was I disappointed she had done that—not only was I disappointed in Mystro for taking something so precious from her, but I was now put in a predicament of my little sister screwing around with one of my best friends man. I stood from the table slowly and walked a few steps shaking my head then finally turning around to her to say,

  “What? Jersey do you know what you gave to him? Pussy points—a virgin is like...a gold mine that he can be able to just tell his friends about. A bragging right—not a cherished memory.”

  A faint look of shame crept along her baby face.

  “But, he knows what went down and I do to.”

  “Let me guess...he told you that you looked beautiful and played a role you hadn’t ever seen before, huh? Or did he promise you that you would always be special to him...I bet he didn’t tell you he loved you.”

  I knew how Myron and his boys rolled, although they cheated, they never lead the females along. Jersey looked out the window as headlights pulled into the garage and said, “No...he told me he was in love with me.”

  Somehow that suddenly made it all worse.

  Zasmyth got out her car and came around the side door like I told her to do. She knocked and I yelled that it was open while staring at Jersey. Zasmyth stepped in and threw my huge LU duffel bag on top of the island counter top.

  “You left this girl! You must have been really tripping about...did I miss something?” she said after finally looking at the droop looks on Jersey and I’s faces.

  “Yeah...we have a problem on our hands.” I said walking over to Jersey.

  “Girl what you do now! Can’t ya keep ya ass home?” Zasmyth said as she stole a Danish out the box.

  “It’s not about how she can’t stay home, it’s a little more real this time.”

  “What the hell ever! He really loves me. It’s not like you are a saint Nay!” Jersey said in defense.

  “He who?” asked a confused Zasmyth.

  I shook my head as Jersey blurted out,

  “Mystro!”

  “Come again, I—I thought he was only supposed to love Katura...you know—the girl he can’t live without.” said Zasmtyh concluding my fear of Mystro’s huge game of getting Jersey legs wide open and all to himself.

  “Jersey, I can’t believe this. And did it occur to you that he only dates older women?”

  She tisked and got out her Blackberry.

  “Watch this,” she text him and told him what she had done and told him to call her now. It took about ten minutes for him to respond back after we had moved everything to the living room, but he did as told. I answered the phone and he didn’t sound one bit intimidated.

  “What’s the deal, Stro?”

  “Maannn. I could ask you that? Why you stand Myron up like that?”

  “Grown folks business, okay. Now to you—”

  “Nah, I’m a cut this short now. Your sister came to me. She’s the one who sucked my dick and talked me into doing the shit-no man in their right mind would turn that down.” I wince my eyes at the thought of Jersey doing that.

  “So you really don’t love her.”

  Silence.

  And that scared me. I almost wanted him not to love her and just leave since it would teach her a lesson and rid me of having to deal with Katura as well.

  “Stro?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I love her.”

  “Let me get this straight...you have been seeing each other all of two days and you love her.” I just knew he wasn’t going to get out of that!

  “Chardonnay...ho-hold on,” He put me on hold talking in the back ground I could hear faint conversation, “Yeah this her...naw man you call her, we talking—wait shit!”

  He came back in clear and said,

  “Myron wants to—”

  “NO.”

  “Well, like I was saying—you’ve forgotten Jersey and I’ve been knowing each other SINCE we were born.”

  Damn...he got me. I smirked as I looked at a love struck Jersey sitting with her legs pressed against her chest and her chin on her knees. I decided I would let her deal with this all her own since she had to go through different relationships in order to be able to find the guy of her dreams. But at the mention of Mystro’s name I didn’t see that carefree girl that I always knew my sister to be...I saw me. You knew love no matter how it reflected back to you and I knew she was seriously into Stro, like I was still seriously into his brother no matter what he had done to me.

  I still had my reservations if Mystro was being raised up anything like Myron was. After a minute or two of Mystro saying his later comment Myron’s voice came onto the phone. I hung up. Zasmyth left after three in the morning. I approached my bedroom door and gently pressed my hand to it. I smirked at the familiar squeak it did since forever. My parents were still out looking for me and I made up my mind that I would face them head on whenever they came home. I clicked on the light switch and stared at a room with so many stories flowing in the perfumed air, the comfy scent of gardenia and plumeria fresh roses that my mother still managed to put in my room, which triggered passionate and heartfelt memories.

  That scent also provo
ked timid memories as well. My room was the same. The color pink, Hello Kitty, and Michael Ealy everywhere. I sat on my canopy bed and glanced over at my clock. It read 3:45 am. I decided I was too tired to unpack yet and jumped in my plush bed. When I looked to my left, I saw Myron’s bedroom light come on. The curtains weren’t drawn back so I couldn’t see anything, just his silhouette. I noticed there was another one in the room. A woman’s outlining. Not his mother’s figure or his sister’s. The female was curvy and short. Myron clicked his light out and I panicked. Why? I didn’t know. I eventually fell off to sleep watching the two’s bodies bump together. And I was content with it for the simple fact of the matter of the way they were fucking. It had been a sore researched matter on my part but I had to know and dissect what Myron found in sleeping around on me.

  In the past I would speak to the two hundred and some odd females Myron had encounters with. He didn’t know this, but I talked to them all and the first question I asked them during confrontation was: What was he doing during sex? Most of them looked at me funny. The other few shrugged and told me without hesitation. They all gave me the same answers.

  Position: Doggy style.

  Eye contact: None, faced down.

  Kisses: None.

  Conversation: None.

  Touching: Just the ass.

  Condom: Always.

  Every single last one said the same thing. But my search wasn’t done. I had one more girl to talk with. Not that I cared but I would find out who she was, trust.

  6

  Operation: Got Him Crying at Midnight

  Unfortunately, for me dealing with my mother head on meant the sheets being pulled off me and my hair being tugged at for me to sit up. My eyes flew open and I saw the sight of my distraught mother standing over me. My father stood near.

  “What in the world has gotten into you?!” she screamed at me.

  I jumped up out my bed and saw Jersey standing in the door way with a pained look on her face.