Nice Guys Don't Finish Last (5 page)

“I told you to stop calling me that,” I smiled as I put on my seatbelt.
“Whatever, so what’s the tea,” he asked.
“It was a listening session. I think the songwriter was offended because I told him I can add more soul to the song than he did.”
“Delmar, that was kind of shady”.
“It’s the truth! The vocals were cute if you want your little sister to fall in love. But I think my vocals could make a grown man cry.”
“Oh girl, here you go! So what did he ‘give’, was he cute,” he asked.
“Yeah, he was okay. I do not think we are going to like each other much though,” I said as we both witnessed Nico conversing with Roger outside dressed in a fitted Cockpit jacket. “Nico is talking to the older white guy,” I pointed through the glass window.
“That is him? Delmar, he is beyond gorgeous. He looks like a skinnier version of that guy from---.”
“Stomp the Yard, I know,” I finished his sentence rolling my eyes.
“Chile, you do not have taste. How can you say he is okay looking? He looks even better than the ol’ boy from last night. Speaking of him, did he call you yet?”
“Actually he did! We spoke for two seconds; he claims his job blocks the number out.”
“The job blocks the numbers out? What kind of bullshit is that? I told you that bastard was in a relationship. I suggest you hook up with the songwriter guy.”
“Ty, no! I am not attracted to him.”
“He looks like he would be faithful. But he give me versatile bottom though, do you think he is gay,” Tyrell asked as he turned the engine on and placed his foot slightly on the gas to exit out of the parking.
“I get the impression he is. But I heard him say he had to meet up with his girlfriend, and it seemed like Roger almost slipped a guy’s name out. I don’t know though. Besides, he’s not my type! What could we possibly do? Paint each other’s nails,” I pursed my lips.

I finally arrived to my five bed room home in the Milford Mill area to see my mother’s 2009 Lexus IS 350 in the driveway. It was unusual for her to be home early, so I became slightly exasperated.

“Yes ma’am,” I answered as I sat my jacket on the back of the stool at the kitchen table.
“So what is this I hear about you being in some club in the city,” she asked with her hands on her hips.
“Yes, mama. I went to Eden’s Lounge to perform a few songs for the crowd,” I lied as my heart practically jumped outside of my chest.
“But I heard it was no church folks in there, it was ALL homosexuals,” she enunciated clearly.
The heat from the stove top suddenly grew hot, while the hair on my neck rose like grass. The only thing missing is balloons for my “coming out” party.

The
evening stars bloomed as I stationed at our Inner Harbor Loft, and realized Nico’s car was not in the parking lot. Therefore, I could prepare a meal for the two of us and watch a movie a horror movie from the Red Box.

I paced back & forth in the apartment, considering if I ought to inquire how long he would be gone or play the night by ear. I pulled my phone out of my pocket & pressed the call button on his name.

“Hello,” Nico answered after the second ring. “Hey babe! How long are you going to be?” “I don’t know, perhaps an hour or so. Why?” “No reason, you normally get home before I do,” I

replied.
“You are up to something. You better not have any r
boys in my house, Abdul,” he laughed.
“Ok I will. He’s on his way, a buff guy named Sandra.
And he has big tits with a huge schlong,” I said.
“Yeah, Sandra sounds like a hot he/she. We should
engage in a threesome with shim that would be hot.” “Nah, I would watch you two,” I laughed as Nico sucked
his teeth and laughed along.
“Well, I think I’m bout to run to Wal-Mart and Sam’s
Club to get a few things. I’ll be home shortly and make sure you
look up some movie times for “The Last House on the Left” I
heard it’s better than the original,” Nico said.
“I hope so because the original sucked ass, yet
supposedly scary. The same goes for that weak ‘Exorcist’ shit
you forced me to watch.”
“Do not go there! The ‘Exorcist’ is a classic,” Nico
laughed.
“What is classic about a white bitch spinning her head
around,” I asked.
“Because the events happened in real life, Abdul,” he
laughed.
“Well on that note, I’ll see you when you get home.
Love you,” I said as a smile graced my face.
“Talk to you later,” he replied.
“Ouch. No love you’s or anything,” I asked as my smile
quickly disappeared.
“Bye Abdul,” he hung up in my ear, which did not
surprise me because the antic became a reoccurring theme song.
How could you say “I love you” in the morning, but not say the
same in the evening? If I approached him about the problem, it
would only cause deeper conflict.
I walked into the kitchen to prepare the salmon I left in
the refrigerator to thaw. The lukewarm water rinsed the fish, while I sprinkled all the seasons into a bowl including: basil leaves, lemon juice, oregano, Old Bay, lemon pepper seasoning and a pinch of margarine. Lemon pepper salmon with brown rice and fresh steamed broccoli is Nico’s favorite dish, therefore the
presentation is important.
As I left the fish to bake, the rice & broccoli to boil, I
decided to freshen up. I ran the shower for at least three minutes
to catch some heat, and entered the tub emoting confidence. The
suds splashed like a current wave pressed against a rock. Then--
the electricity turned off. I got out of the shower and dried
myself off with the towel I left sitting on the toilet seat. Thank
God I have a gas stove because the sun shined through the
window, enough for me to see what’s going on. I walked into the
kitchen to see the food still cooking, and as soon as I left the
kitchen, the lights turned back on.

An hour later, Nico finally arrived home to see the entire house lit with Vanilla scented candles circulating. The dining room table was decorated with white cloths and eating utensils. In the center, two champagne glasses with Chardonnay sat.

“Hey baby. I’m glad to see you’re finally home,” I said walking into the dining room area with two plates of food in my hand.

“Awww, you did this for me,” Nico asked with a smile glazing cross his face and holding Wal-Mart bags in the both of his hands.

“Yeah, I did. Sit those bags in the kitchen and I’ll put everything up for you later. I just want you to have a seat and eat dinner,” I smiled as I pulled the chair from the table and he smiled taking a seat.

“This is really nice, Abby. I need to take a shower though, I feel dirty.”
“Baby, I don’t care about that,” I said starting the “We Make Love” playlist on my iTunes with none other than Anita Baker’s “Sweet Love”.
“Well I do. I’ve been running around all day and I’m probably sweaty.”
“Taste the salmon, it’s your favorite,” I changed the subject as he finally sliced a piece of the fish with his knife and fork, allowing it to absorb in his mouth.
The music resonated throughout the dining room as we sat across from each other, while I gazed deeply into his eyes. His senses smiled at mine, as I bit my lip lusting after from his slim, swimmer’s body. The mood was similar to our second date back in 2006, I can’t say the first because it was disastrous and I never thought we would make it this far!
“Abby, this is delish. It really is,” he cracked a smile. “And I see you got on those sweat pants my mother bought you. They look good on you.”
“Thanks babe. So how was your day? What did Roger say about the song?”
“Roger loved the song, and I met the guy who is going to record it. He was a little smart ass. Don’t you know he had the audacity to say my music wasn’t
‘soulful’
enough,” he asked throwing a hand gesture in the air.
“I know that pissed you off,” I laughed.
“You know it. The boy was no older than eighteen or nineteen giving me suggestions and shit. I could tell he’s one of those church faggots.”
“Baby, don’t use that word.”
“I forgot. So, how was your day,” he shifted.
“It was cool! The client Malik I told you about, I think he has a crush on me or something?”
“Malik? I don’t remember him!”
“You don’t remember Malik? The nineteen year old, who threatened me with the scissors that one time, and I had to whip his ass.”
“Oh, him! How could I forget about him? What makes you think he has a crush on you though,” he asked looking at his finger nails.
“I don’t know! Just the way he talks and looks at me. I think he’s acting out because he’s aware I’m gay, and is in denial about his personal feelings so he tries to take it out on me. You know how those insecure, down-low niggas act.”
“Oh, so I guess you are a psychiatrist now, huh. How would he know you’re gay though,” he laughed sipping on his wine.
“I don’t know. Nahla, might be staying with us in the middle of March,” I said devouring the last piece of broccoli left on my plate.
“Oh really? Did you ever check those movie times,” Nico asked.
“Yeah, she’s coming to stay with us during her spring break. No, I didn’t check! I rented a movie from the Red Box.”
“But we already agreed to see ‘The Last House on the Left’. You know I really want to see that.”
“I know, Nic. But it would make sense for us to stay in tonight since I cooked and did all of this,” I nodded drinking a swig of the Chardonnay.
“I don’t see why we can’t still see it tonight. I loved the dinner & everything, but we agreed to see the movie. You even said on the phone you were going to look up movie times,” he pouted while slamming his fork down on the plate without eating much.
“I said that because I wanted to surprise you with dinner. You never fail to amaze me. I knew you would find some way to turn a positive moment into a negative,” I said.
“I am not turning a positive into a negative; I thought we had an agreement to see the damn movie. I only talked about it for the past week,” he yelled.
“The movie is not going anywhere. It will be there tomorrow and the day after that. You are so damn ungrateful!”
“I am not ungrateful. I loved the dinner!”
“I can barely tell you hardly touched it. You know sometimes you are worst than a female, when I do something right you always find some way to fuck it up,” I yelled across the table.
“Stop crying like a bitch! We don’t need two dykes in the house.”
“And what does that supposed to mean,” I rose from my chair in defense.
“It means you are acting like a bottom. I thought I was the submissive one, but you act worse than me,” he said calmly, sipping on the wine glass.
“We have never been caught up in that label shit, so what you are saying is new to me. I perceive us as men with emotions.”
“Yes, Abdul we both have feelings but you act like a girl from those Lifetime dramas my mother watches. Everyone looks at you as the more dominant person in the relationship,” he smiled.
“Look at my face,” I pointed to my eyes. “Does this look like a face that gives a shit about anyone outside of my relationship?”
“You are going to stop cursing & yelling at me, I know that much,” he yelled across the table.
“Oh really? I’m panicking & shaking at your ungrateful ass.”
“Like I said before, I am appreciative of the damn dinner. What else you want me to do to show I loved it? Kiss your feet,” he yelled as I jumped up from the table without a reaction from him.

I grabbed my Nike hoody lying on the couch & walked towards the main door.
“Fuck you, Nico!!!”

I
sat in the chair as my knees shook uncontrollably under the table as I could not swallow what I did wrong. Was it selfish of me to want to go to the theater after dinner?

I picked up the phone to call my mother because I distinguished she would be the one person who would tell me if I was wrong.

“Hi, you have reached Patricia Bilal. I cannot come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name & number, I’ll call you right back. Thank you,” my mother’s voicemail said.

“If you would like to leave a message, press one or wait for the beep,” the operator said as the beep alarmed.
“Hey ma, I called to get your advice about a situation. Call me whenever you get this message, love you,” I said before hanging up the phone discombobulated with no one to vent to.
After thinking about my short set of friends, I picked up the phone in favor of an honest individual who tell all of my deepest secrets to. The phone rang three times before I received a response.
“Hello,” a female voice answered.
“Deja, hey baby,” I screamed with laughter.
“Hey boo, what’s going on,” she asked.
“Writing & singing gigs, ready to go on a promotional tour with Ledisi,” I answered.
“Uh oh, big things I see. I see my best friend doing it up,” she laughed.
“Yup, I sure am. So what’s up with New York & modeling?”
“Being a dark skin model with natural hair is a challenge. They consistently say I would do better in Europe,” she pouted.
“Well pack your shit & go to Europe,” I laughed. “Don’t forget you are a flawless Amazon dark skin model.”
“Thanks Nicolas, I really needed that. How’s my baby, Abdul?”
“He’s doing fine, he actually stormed out of the house in anger, so you just missed him,” my sarcasm lustered.
“Uh oh, you must have pissed him off. Nico, what happened this time?”
“Why do people always think it was me?”

“Well, you & I were in a relationship before. So I know,” she laughed. “So are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Abdul cooked dinner for the both of us and I was pleasantly surprised. It was beautiful--- salmon, brown rice, broccoli, & candles—.”
“Ok, so what went wrong?”
“I’m getting to that. I asked him if we were still going to

see ‘The Last House on the Left’ because our original plans. He insisted on renting a movie for the both of us to relax and chill for the night. But I wanted to view the movie, and would not take no for an answer.”

“Nico, why couldn’t go to the movie tomorrow? Your boyfriend wanted to spend quality time with you at home, and you wanted to blow it off to see a fricking movie! You got to be kidding me.”

“What,” I asked.
“Don’t you know how hard it is to find a man who would cook for me, yet spend quality time at home,” she responded.
“I think you are right. I don’t know why I feel the need to give him a hard time,” I said.
“You are still bitter towards him, and I told you many times you must let the past vigor. Don’t forget the battle between you & I,” she rolled her tongue.
“Yeah I know what you mean. I do not like mistakes to be used against me, so I definitely should not do that to anyone else.”
“Exactly, I am glad you are finally taking responsibility for your actions. Well I’d hate to cut things short, but I will call you tomorrow. I am ‘bout to go on a hot date with Thomas the trainer,” she laughed.
“Oh okay, well you have fun and I love you,” I laughed.
“Love you too, bye,” she hung up and the discomfort I held prior to the conversation vanished. Sometimes, I wonder how easy things would be if she & I maintained a relationship. But the friendship we have is appreciated more.
After hanging up, I noticed the “Full Mail” icon appear on the phone so I decided to listen to every voice mail I avoided for the past few months skipping through a majority of them.
“Hey bff, this is Deja! I was checking on you & inquiring what was on the itinerary this weekend because I will be in town, and it’s been forever since I saw your behind. So hit me up as soon as you get this message,” the female said in a joyous tone.
“This message has been saved! Next message”
“Hello, Mr. Nicolas Bilal! This is Dr. Leslie Moore from the John Hopkins Internal Medicine Facility, the disclaimer is urgent for you to meet with me this Monday at 11 a.m. I cannot release any information until our meeting. Mr. Bilal, my number is (410) 338-2800. Okay, I wish you a good day sir!”
My ears clogged with infected words raging against them as my jaw hit the floor in sync with the phone. Eyes began to water, and my throat tightened as a lump quickly emerged. Her voice filled with remorse, what could be the purpose of a doctor visit?