Nice Guys Don't Finish Last (6 page)

“So
tell me why you were at that filthy club at such an ungodly hour,” my mother yelled slicing through green & red peppers, while tossing them into the pan of lamb chops.

Lounge to perform,” I lied regarding her dead in the eyes. “Why would you not inform me?”
“Because it was an R&B showcase and I know you &

pops don’t like me singing nonspiritual music.”
“And you are right! Your father will not approve of this,
son. Such a disadvantage your brother attempted to rap in the
forsaken industry & failed. We raised Dante to be a man of God
& he rebelled against the teachings & worshiped Satan. In return,
they chewed Dante and spit him back out! Is that what you want
to happen to you, as well?”
“No ma’am—I just…”
“Well good, you possess better common sense than your
brother. Please be a good boy and stay away from that music,”
she demanded pointing the butcher knife in the air.
“The exact reason I did not inform you and dad.
Whoever told you I was in the club area need to mind their
business. Any smart person would know they have to walk past
the Hippo in order to access Eden’s Lounge.”
“Well only for me to know, son. You should be more
concerned about how you’re going to explain the trash you
consider music to Patrick! I knew we should not allow you to
attend Morgan State. When you were enrolled in private school,
everything was fine. As soon as you relocated into the public,
you became exposed to sorts of buffoonery,” she yelled with
fury in her eyes.
I lied my way out of one trap to get absorbed in another.
Lord knows I want to tell her the truth, but I can imagine all the
things she & my father would do.
First, they would ship me off to a “Torture Gays
Therapy” rehabilitation center and send me away to a “Fags Go
to Hell” summer camp. My parents would create the facility for
me!
“DELMAR LORENZO BOAR,” she yelled across the
kitchen again pointing the knife in the air.
“Yes ma’am…”
“What in God’s name are you thinking about? You
better wake up boy, you think this a joke,” she said inserting the
pan into the electric oven. As much as I inched to dispute with
my mother, her fantabolous chocolate skin & chestnut shaped
eyes distracted me. At least, I am aware how I inherited my
appearance. Damn sure was not my father’s side of the family! “Ma, when are you getting your hair done,” I asked
gazing at her fine dark hair, slicked back into a ponytail. “Excuse me! When are you going to stop singing music
God did not birth you on Earth for, how about that?” “Ma, why do things have to always shift back to my
music,” I pouted.
“The conversation shifts because you are not my equal. I
will get it done when I feel like it. You worry about your head.” “Well there’s nothing to worry about, my hair is cut! But
your hair looks a hoot, I’m not used to seeing it messy,” I said
sorting through my text messages.
“A hoot? What in the world? You know what, get out of
my kitchen,” she said pointing the knife in the air.
“Okay, well I’ll be upstairs if you need me,” I dialed my
phone, while climbing the steps to led to my bedroom. “Who do you think told her,” Tyrell laughed as I ignored
the commotion in his background.
“I really don’t know. But I told you I had to be careful
because the church queens talk too much! Whoever it is, I’mma
knock them”.
“You are not knocking a soul! They gon’ knock your ass
first,” he laughed.
“Yeah, you must really don’t know ‘bout me. My
mother wants me to stop singing R&B to serve the Lord, but I’ll
be serving somebody’s prison for murder.”
“Delmar, please! What you doing tonight,” he asked. “I don’t know… If you want to do something with me,
just say it,” I exclaimed.
“Boy, I don’t want to do anything with you. I asked a
simple question.”
“Yeah tell me anything. I do want to suck your dick
again though,” I said.
“Maybe we can see that movie with Taraji, you know
she’s my girl. I cannot believe she’s playing a butch lesbian in
it,” he changed the subject.
“Bitch, don’t try to pay my comment! You know it was
good,” I said.
“Yeah it was cute for what it was, but I don’t really care
for head anyways.”
“Because you are a bottom,” I laughed as the phone
beeped, and it appeared to be an unknown number. “Hold on.” “Hello,” I greeted after clicking over.
“Yes, can I speak to Delmar please,” the sexy baritone
asked.
“This is he. May I ask who is calling?”
“Oh, this is Abdul again. I wanted to know if you still
would like to go to the movies,” he asked.
“Sure, why not”, I exclaimed with an excited undertone
in my voice.

I
sat in the car intoxicated by a bottle of Burnett’s Vodka, melancholy pressured an arrangement to meet with a stranger tonight. In spite of a failed romantic evening with Nico, I didn’t plan on spending my night in a parking lot either.

On the flipside, I don’t understand why Nico must make everything about him? I attempt to be good to him, but what do I get in return? A kick in the balls! He is only concerned when I stay out all night or fuck somebody else to receive attention? Is this how love works?

“Babe, I am so sorry for screwing up the night. But I need you to come home,” a text emanated to my Blackberry by Nico. The question remained if there was a need to respond or click out of the exit button from the ‘recent messages’ box. Exhaustion became a friend of mine after consistently being one half of a relationship who compromises for everything, even I am not in the wrong. Usually when he is angry with me, he does not answer my calls or texts; on the other hand, grudges do not exist in my reality.

I am gon’ have to be the asshole to teach him a lesson. I will no longer be held accountable for a mistake I made a year ago.
“New text message,” the alert buzzed.
“So what time are you coming,” Delmar asked. Will the

former be a wise decision? At this point, Nico & I are in two different places & paces. The diseases of infidelity remain in the human bone, but why not end the relationship before embarking the route. The last thing I need is a gay reboot of ‘Fatal Attraction’.

I have lost my individuality behind all Nico’s antics & it is not worth the fight anymore. In contrast, we have been through so much together and he has stuck by my side more than anyone else!

Can someone please tell me where are boundaries? How do I know when enough is enough? The Marines & school teaches a student about discipline and respect, but no one has ever prepared us with a Love 101 class.

Should I take a chance, should I do what’s on my mind or what? My head fell in a dizzy spiral staircase, as my hormones jumped and I fought the tears inching to escape my eyes! When I drink, I’m prone to have sex, so going out with Delmar may not be a noble notion. Am I setting myself up to be caught in a web, I’m not willing to jump in?

My brain insisted I go home to my boyfriend and make up with him, my dick told me to meet with Delmar & do the unthinkable.

What the hell am I talking? I sound like a typical Baltimore gay... Maybe I should stay in this car all night, or should I give it a chance. I’m strong enough to not allow anything happen!

Dammit, why I sat here for the past five minutes gaping at the same text message?
I decided to get out of the car, and proceeded to walk inside the apartment complex.
“Come open the door,” I replied back to the message walking to the second level, and knocked on the door as I heard a footstep reach to the door & watched the knob turn quickly.
“Come in, I am so sorry about being a bitch,” Nico said pulled me in by my arm.
“It’s cool,” I said as I wobbled through the door and passed out on the leather love seat in the dining room.
“Drunk? Since when did you start drinking again,” Nico asked raising his eyebrows with such sadness in his eyes.
“I started ever since you drove a nigga crazy,” I responded as my vision converted blurrier.
“I apologized about that, do you have to throw it back in my face?”
“I don’t see why not! You been doing the same thing to me for the past year, giving you a taste of your own medicine,” I said taking a swig of the vodka laid on the love seat.
“Okay maybe I deserve that,” Nico resisted turning his back towards me and sniffing. The thermostat in our loft was literally on hell, so it wasn’t possible for him to be cold.
“Babe is everything alright,” I asked.
“Yeah, everything is good,” he sniffed again walking away from me. I jumped up & sensed the world flipping sideways as I fell back on the couch.
“Abdul, get up. I hate it when you drink,” he yelled running towards me.
“I’m okay, but what are you keeping from me?”
“Nothing, I am not hiding anything,” he lied and I pursed my lips in the air gaining an award winning smirk from him. “Stop it, you always look sexy when you point your lips, you look like the trade,” he said.
“I am! So are you going to tell me what’s going on? If there’s a person who knows you, it would be me besides your snooping ass mother.”
“Excuse me, my mother would not appreciate the slander,” he laughed.
“Okay, so tell me what’s going on,” I said while pulling his featherweight body into mine.
“I went through my voicemail while you were gone…”
“And…”
“A doctor left an urgent message stating I need to meet with her Monday morning. What would she need to speak to me about if I don’t even know who she is?”
“Baby, let’s not let the doctors get ahead you.” “Huh? Don’t let the doctors get ahead of me?”
“Shit, I mean don’t get ahead of yourself! You know what I meant,” I said confusedly.
“Obviously, I didn’t. You are drunk and talking
gibberish,” he said.
“I mean, what do you think it could be?”
“Obviously, one of my past sexual partners may have something.”
“Well, I doubt if you have anything. I don’t,” I insisted.
“Me neither, but if I do… I will kill myself”, he erupted with a volcanic burst of tears streaming down his face. I held him tightly on the love seat, melting my body into his.

It
has been three days since I listened to the voicemail, and I am happy Abdul took the day off to support me at the hospital. The burly receptionists laughed amongst themselves like ‘the three little pigs’ from my favorite bedtime story. I been here since ten forty a.m, it is now 11:30, and I’m clueless where the hell the doctor is!

“Babe, relax,” he whispered placing his right hand on my knee.
“Where the hell is Dr. Moore? She got me so nervous in here,” I said.
“Baby, I know. I want you to stop thinking about it,” he said rubbing my hand to kiss it. The old white lady sitting across from us stared distastefully; I thought a laser would escape from her eyes & melt my face off.
“Let’s not give the old bitty a free show.” I fixed my fuchsia colored cardigan and winked my eye at her. Her wrinkly skin began to crack red, and her face bloated with disgust. Abdul reached for my ear with his bare pink lips, and sucked on my lobe.
“Boy stop, I can’t stand old hags—,” I paused after while he gave me a side eye.
“I just need you to relax,” he said.
“I am relaxed! I’m just trying to figure out what could I possibly be here for,” I pouted while we engaged in ten seconds of ‘who can stare the longest’. His eyes told a story of promise, convincing me things could possibly be alright no matter what the circumstances are.
“I doubt if anything is serious,” he smized with those big brown eyes I absolutely adored. So easy to grow sucked into his charm, but it wasn’t enough at times!
“What if it is H.I.V? How odd is the possibility if the only person I have sex with is you.”
“Well, sex isn’t the only way to retrieve H.I.V! There are tattoos, drugs, sharing razors, infected glass in plastic bags that may pinch your skin… you know,” he stated like he informed a clueless bimbo.
“Yeah, the only thing you forgot is I do not do drugs, nor get tattoos. I do have a B.A. so I am aware how you can retrieve it,” I stated precisely.
“Nico, why do you constantly throw your education in everything? If you know the many ways of contracting H.I.V, then why justify sex as the only reason,” he whispered.
“I don’t throw education in every situation. But you told me something I already know. I am not justifying sex, but it would be the most appropriate one that applies to me.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I don’t do any of the other things, besides have sex. Duh,” I said.
“Oh, I get it! You are underhandedly asking me if I cheated on you again and if I gave you a disease,” he smiled with a mixed irritable glare in his eyes.
“Well did you?”
“Yes, I did! I fucked a boy a few months ago in the back of a movie theatre and also got some head from one of the clients at the detention center. You know, oral sex is the easiest way to catch diseases now-a-days, maybe I got it from him,” he said as he set his earphones on his ears attached to an IPOD Touch.
“I fucking hate you,” I said snatching the left hand ear piece from out of his hands.
“What? I’m just giving you what you ask for. You’re not going to be satisfied until I actually fuck somebody else,” he snatched the ear piece back and rolled his eyes.
“You probably already did! You did it before, I am sure you would do it again.”
Abdul jumped up quickly, like a sumo wrestler anguishing away dressed in a crèam drenched knitted sweater and dark denim jeans.
“Where are you going,” I asked as he ignored my question initiating the entire hospital to hear the echoes of my voice serenade the hallways. Everyone stopped their tracks to stare at me, and unfroze after I gave the most unflattering snicker ever.
“Is there a Nicolas Bilae,” the nurse asked while smacking her gum in the air and holding a brown clipboard in her hand.
“It’s NICOLAS BILAL!”
“Mmmhmm, what a nice name! You must be Spanish or something?”
“Naw, all Black,” I gritted my teeth with an unpleasant smile as I followed her to the room. The back of her hair was bushy & matted to her head reminiscent to Jill Scott’s calamitous do in ‘Long Walk’ video. Some people do not believe in relaxers anymore, the ‘natural’ style does not work for nappy head sisters.
“Dr. Moore will be with you shortly,” she smiled with a gold crown in the front of her tooth and I could not for the life of me figure out how she received a nursing degree.
“Okay,” I said as she walked out. I couldn’t wrap my finger around this meeting with an unknown doctor. The room was collaged with “Flu Shots”, “Preventing STD’s”, “Birth Control Pills”, & “Living with H.I.V” posters instantly seized my breath away, whilst clenching my fingers on the hospital bed.
“Mr. Bilal,” a female knocked on the door twice.
“Come on in,” I said.
“Hey,” a Caucasian specialist with a chic blonde bob & smock walked in. She looked more like a catalog model than certified doctor.
“Hello, Dr. Moore. It’s about time,” I laughed.
“I apologize we are extremely busy today. But I am happy to see you made it,” she said as my heart skipped a beat, I thought it would burst out of my chest.
“Firstly, I called you in because an earlier liaison listed you as one of his sexual partners.”
“Listed me? It must be some kind of mistake, who is this person,” I squint my eyes relied on the clouds hung in the ceiling.
“Well you are Nicolas Bilal, born July 7
^th
1986 right?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Well, the person listed you as one of his sexual partners, whose name will not be disclosed,” she said two feet away from me glancing at a sheet of paper clipped on a notepad. The question burned inside my lungs like an ignited flame.
“I brought you here today to test you for H.I.V & a case of Syphilis,” she said lightly simultaneously locking eyes with mine.
The room dimmed, as her lips sped 70 miles per hour and the lights faded into the background. There were no staging, mics or lights. It was the table bed, Dr. Moore & I. The words vacated from her mouth like Charlie Brown’s mother, and my ears closed off every word she spoke.