Nice Guys Don't Finish Last (2 page)

“Hey baby! It is cold as shit outside,” he reached his jacket as Milo jumped in the air vexing to reach for Abdul’s hand.

“Easy now, Milo! You must have missed me,” Abdul said as he kneeled down to the dog to rub the top of his head.
“Yeah, I guess so. How was work,” I asked staring at the paper.
“Well, work is work. My client Ismael was thrown out of his 90 day program because he violated his probation, so I was stuck doing---.”
“Oh okay, that is nice. Well I have to get this song done, so I can’t talk right now.”
“Nico, you asked me how my day---.”
“I know what I asked you, I cannot talk now. I am sorry I even asked,” I scribbled on the paper as he walked to my side of the dining room.

“Yes, I am alright! Roger wants this song by tomorrow to shop around, but I cannot gather my thoughts without Milo barking every damn second,” I yelled as he walked back in the kitchen.

“Nic, you are the one who wanted the dog, so don’t even,” his abysmal voice reverberated from the kitchen.
“I know, please do not remind me. My goal is to complete the demo before six, so I can hit the gym. Do you mind taking Milo in another room,” I asked.
“Come here Milo, come here boy. Come here, you want a snack,” he ignored me antagonizing the dog, as my blood boiled quicker than a pot of water.
“Oh my God, Abdul! What the hell,” I shouted as he reluctantly walked into my direction spinning the top off the last bottled water from the refrigerator.
“Babe, what is up with your attitude? I can’t even be in the house for five minutes without you yelling,” he shrugged his shoulder kissing the bottle against his lips.
“Because I politely asked you to refrain him from this room and you continued to schmooze about snacks & shit.”
“Did you not ask me to take Milo into another room,” he asked.
“Yes, I did---,” I yelled.
“Well that is what I am doing. The only way to get Milo’s attention is to con him with food.”
“No, you could have picked him up and threw his little ass in the room. Sometimes you make the smallest task, so damn difficult Abdul.”
“Alright, Nico! You are being very disrespectful, man.”
“Well maybe if you would stop acting so damn retarded, I would not have to go through this. Just pick up the damn dog, throw him in the room & lock the door. Simple as one, two, three! And people want to act like I am crazy,” I yelled.
“Nico, what in the hell are you talking about? You need to chill out,” he said in a failed attempt to reach my hand.
“Do not tell me what I need to do. Take that noisy ass dog, and leave me the hell alone. So I can finish my song,” I snatched away and stormed out of the dining room!
This is what I refer to, how can I write a song about someone who irritates the blood out of me? When I see his face I get annoyed. When he talks I want to rip his tongue out, and when he touches me I want to bleach my skin!

What if you put out great things, and continue to receive nothing in return? Does the same rule apply?
The room darkened as I lied on the couch inquiring “What did I do?” A recurrent question I asked myself for the past year. One mistake shaft a booming romance into World War III!
Nothing I do for Nico is good enough. Past Christmas, I disbursed nearly two thousand dollars planning a romantic getaway to Miami. Instead of exhibiting appreciation, he complained about the Delano Hotel because the room did not carry the hot tub shown in the promotional pictures. I invested much time & energy into the vacation.
One occasion we gone to the movies, he grew angry because I would not give him money for nachos, so he caused a scene and drove off with MY car. I spent two hours on the MTA bus to get home from the Arundel Mills area.
Man, I am trying my firmest to be the best boyfriend I can be. I come home from work; all I ever want to do is sit down and chill. No one famine to hear a guy nag all day. If I desired the badger, I would deal with a woman.
Do not get me wrong, Nico is an incredible person. He is undeniably gorgeous; buttery-caramel skin with indescribable bone structure fatal enough to rival the best European models.
I cannot fathom being with anyone else, but he is complicated. Even when he is upset I am challenged not to smile at him, and remain mesmerized by those seductive chestnut eyes. The sex is the best part about the relationship, at least when we have it!
Nico wants the jimmy once he is ready for it, but I ought to have the privilege to want some ass when I roll over in the morning too. People dearth things once it is convenient for them, but hate to compromise. He hardly kisses me anymore and fabricates claims that “kissing makes his throat hurt.” In the beginning, Nico could not keep his hands or mouth off me, now he hates to do anything sensual. I do not ask for much, the emotion is equivalent to being in a love affair with a wall.
“Why do you still love him,” my friends ask. The truth is I am as clueless as they are. We used to be best friends and conversed about any & everything. Lately, living with him feels similar to sleeping with a stranger in the house. I cannot discern what makes him happy or sad because it appears the world ticks him off!
I lift myself from the couch and peeked in the master bedroom to find Nico whispering on the phone, lying on the bed flinging his legs in the air. His schoolgirl giggles began to cultivate under my skin.
“I do not, that is not fair,” he whispered on the phone.
“What is not fair,” I asked.
“Hold on,” he cuffed the phone to his chest. “I am not talking to you.”
“Yeah, I distinguished the obvious. But who are you talking to,” I asked.
“No one who concerns you,” he turned over while pressing his index finger on his ear and continued the phone conversation.
“Why must you be disrespectful,” I asked as he cuffed the phone back to his chest without responding.
“Abdul, what the hell are you talking about? I am on the phone, can you go in the living room or something,” he pointed towards the door as I visualized myself body slamming him into the wall across from me. But it occurred I would not do anything to purposely hurt Nico, besides it would take less than a second to split his ass in half.
“Yo, I am going to ask you again. Who are you talking to,” I yelled.
“None of your damn business,” he shouted.
“What you mean none of my damn business? We are together, so you are my business!”
“Let’s not go there, you should be the LAST person to talk,” Nico said.
“Here you go with this bullshit! Who are you on the phone with?”
“Right! Maybe we can---,” Nico’s voice decreased into a Michael Jackson whisper as he flanged his legs in the air. His giggles filled the room like an evil witch from a children’s fairy tale, grating against my ears.
“Give me the fucking phone,” I yelled as I snatched the phone out of his hand & planted it against my right ear. “Who the hell is this,” I yelled before an awkward silence ensued.
“Ummm, Abdul if you don’t give Nico his phone back, then I will whip your ass my damn self,” a woman said with corruptly.
“Oh, Ms. Pat! I am so sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
“You are such a jack ass,” Nico rolled his eyes as he snatched the phone out of my hand and rambled outside the room.

The
temperature was below zero as I sat through the nine thirty service at New Hampshire Baptist Church. Guest Pastor Lewis carried on & on about the Recession I cared less about.

Beside me on the left was the deacon who shouted every five minutes for no apparent reason. On my right, Mrs. Turner, whose breath smelled nothing less than a bad bowel movement!

“Hey young man, do you want some of these mints from my purse,” Mrs. Turner whispered gazing over her brown framed bottle caps called glasses. The tape wrapped around the arms screamed “I don’t love myself.”

“I am fine. Besides, I only do sugar-free. No cavities for me,” I said sarcastically.
“You kids these days are too flashy for my taste buds. Mint is mint, and gum is gum. They all kill bad breath,” she poked her lips out and peeked over her glasses once again. I tempted to snatch that gray wig off her head and twirl it in her face.
“Well, I guess those good ol’ mints aren’t working then. Will you excuse me,” I reached for my coat under the pew, as I eased through the row to reach the balcony’s exit.
“You have a nice day, sir,” the usher opened the door as I preceded downstairs.
“Thanks, you too,” I buttoned my coat and snarled a vibration against my leg. I heaved the phone from my pocket, and noticed a text message from an unknown number display
“Hey queen, I see you with the Balmain Military trench. Werrkkk.”
I text the unknown person to gather their identity, and they grew annoyingly inquisitive.
“Who is playing on my phone,” I asked.
“Delmar, it is Tyrell lol. This is my new number. Calm down,” the text read.
“Oh, where are you? I’m ‘bout to leave,” I responded as I sauntered out of the main door. The churchgoers directed towards the entrance while I attempted to ease away from the door.
“And where do you think you are going, young man,” a woman asked styled in a brown Crystal Fox Fur coat & hat with camel suede Kate Spade pointy toes .
“Hey mama,” I hailed as she gave me a startled mien awaiting an answer. “Good morning, Ms. Ruthie,” I greeted the deaconess standing on the right side of my mother with the homeliest pleather jacket and biggest gap tooth I have ever witnessed.
“Hey baby”, Ms. Ruthie responded.
“Where are you going? You know your father is about to preach the eleven thirty service, and we are staying for dinner,” my mother said.
“Ma, I know. But I have things to do! They want me to go to the studio and lay down some Gospel tracks for them.”
“What you need to do is turn your behind back into that good ol’ church. I am not playing with you boy. You may be getting older, but you still need to listen,” she said as her entire statement translated in one ear and out the other.
“Okay ma. Well, I have to go,” I kissed her gently on her chocolate covered cheek as her nose beamed like her counterpart Rudolph from the cold.
“Well alright. I will see you later when I get home,” she said as her breath blew into the wind. She walked slowly into the church buckling her knees from her shoes. My phone rang & I answered it.
“Hey. Turn around I’m standing next to this red Cavilier in back of the light skin cunt,” Tyrell informed.
“Light skin what,” I asked as my eyes chased all of the male bystanders. Then my eyes traced him in front of the car.
“I’m walking over right now, bye.” I hung up the phone and strolled into Tyrell’s direction, he was far more attractive than I recalled. He is a sight, and easily my type; a light skin guy with dreads. Ty has a tall, slim & boyish frame; but two bottoms would never work!
“Hey you,” he licked his pink lips & playfully brash my shoulder. I glanced at his hand pretending to be frantic.
“Hi, what are you about to do,” I asked.
“I am clueless. I miss you, Delmar. You are working that trench… I live,” he expressed while my mouth widened as my lips expand from ear to ear blushing like a schoolgirl.
“Thanks, I like your coat too. Ralph Lauren,” I asked.
“You know it,” he said as he gazed into my eyes and mine wandered below his belt witnessing his meat erect through the black slacks. My God I didn’t expect Ty’s print to appear vastly. I became lost in a trance--
“I asked, what you are doing Thursday”, he yelled in a snap of reality. I vividly painted a picture of me riding the joints out of his stick.
“Dude, do not yell at me. No plans… Why,” I asked.
“Because I wanted you to go to the Hippo with me, it will be fun,” he said.
“What’s the Hippo,” I asked.
“The Hippo is a twenty one & over club.”
“Boy, I am only nineteen. How am I going to get in there,” I asked.
“Oh shit. I forgot you were a baby,” he laughed nudging the top of my head. “Maybe, I can contact the guy Pee-Wee. He can make you an I.D.”
“Tyrell, are you crazy! I am not getting busted for a fake id. What if my parents find out?”
“Chill, you won’t get arrested for the I.D. The most they will do is trash the license and ban you from coming.”
“Man, I’m not doing that shit”.

I reflected on Sunday wishing I grasped on to my word. Now I am in the line waiting to get inside the Hippo. And if one more person jumps in front of me, it’s on!

“Nothing, this line is long as hell. What if they catch me with this I.D?”
“Boy, they are not going to catch you. Stop thinking negative,” Tyrell said in an attempt to calm me down, but he does not understand the stipulations of being the son of a preacher. It is a risk standing in a line amongst “church queens”, who may run their mouths. I would be terrified, if the thick neck Filipino bouncer pounded on me.
“Make sure you have your I.D’s out already,” the bouncer yelled from the top of the line. My hands began to shake as we got closer to the front. I became annoyed by the tall drag queen anterior of Ty & I repeatedly stepping on my feet with her giant ass, and the old guy in the back of us pushing against my butt. How could someone smile hard with their front teeth missing? Yuck!
“Here we go, pull out your I.D,” Tyrell said. The white bouncer looked at his card and gave him the hand signal to walk inside. The thick neck bouncer gazed at me and gave the pass to go.
“Wait a minute”, the white bouncer said as he pulled his arm out to stop me. Dammit, I should have never come to this club with Tyrell.