Nice Guys Don't Finish Last (7 page)

I
forced myself to stay awake in Calculus, considering my second attempt in the class. But Professor Short’s monotonous voice easily puts me to sleep, and no idea what the hell she is talking about. I always sign up for the driest professors for difficult subjects. The image of her writing on the board with a million runs in her stockings irks my brain, and who still wears clog heels? They are so 1998!

“Delmar, you better wake your ass up boy,” a girl whispered behind me.
“Girl, I am trying to but she is late,” I whispered.
“She is what,” she asked scrunching her face.
“Nothing girl! You have to pay it.”
“Pay what,” she asked as I ignored her and pulled my phone out to check I had three missed calls from an unknown number.
“Mr. Boar, I need for you to put that phone away in my class,” Professor Short said.
“But it was an emergency text. My grandmother fell down the steps again,” I lied as the class proceeded with laughter.
“Well if there’s an emergency then you need to step outside of my class. I’m sorry about your grandmother falling downstairs, if it is even true. But this is your third time telling me a similar story; maybe it’s time for you to come up with another,” she said while the class instigated chunter with ‘oooh’s’.
“Actually, it is none of your business. Your job is to teach me, while I learn! But if you were not so boring, I wouldn’t have to text anyone,” I subconsciously responded.
“Mr. Boar, please withdraw from my class before you leave the campus today. Unless you want me inform the Dean first, take your pick.”
“Oh girl, you are overreacting. I need this class.”
“Well, you can find another professor who will tolerate your disrespect because I refuse to,” she said as I gazed at the red lipstick on her bunny rabbit teeth. I grabbed my Gucci backpack & walked down the escalated stairs to exit the class, while my classmates retained their laughter.
I walked outside the room and felt depraved. The last thing I desired for my parents to discover I was dismissed from a class for ‘disorderly conduct’. They are not paying college tuition for the hell of it!
“Excuse me, can you tell me where the Financial Aid office is,” a brown skin guy asked. He appeared to be at least in his late 20s, hiding behind black framed eyeglasses, like a typical dork. In contrast, he held thug appeal styled in an orange thermal top, a winter vest, sweat pants & Total Orange Bo Jacksons.
“Actually, I do not. Financial Aid says my parents make too much money, so I have no reason to go there.”
“Okay, I didn’t ask all of that. But thanks anyway,” he said walking pass me to get to the soda machine towards the main door. Did this nerd dismiss me? Is this “I Give Two Shits about Delmar Day”?
“That was really rude, you know,” I said walking towards the soda machine staring him in his face.
“Well, I was just giving you what you gave me. Is there a problem,” he asked as I gagged at his smart mouth. I did not expect this at all from him.
“Damn, it’s no reason for you to be an ass. There is no problem.”
“Good, I only wanted your number. Nothing more, nothing less,” he smiled pushing the Sprite button on the machine.
“What? Oh, you have the wrong party sir,” I watched him pick the bottle up from the machine and pop the cap off.
“Wrong party? Oh, I apologize. Did not mean any disrespect,” his face suddenly dropped and voice deepened.
“I am only fucking with you. Give me your cell, so I can put my number in there,” I laughed as I read the relief on his face, while he eagerly passed me his Blackberry.
“Boy, you need a new phone. This shit is busted,” I referred to the scratches on his phone.
“I know. You gon’ buy me a new one, baby,” he said as I scrunched my face and laughed. We stood in front of the soda machine and the remainder of the atmosphere disappeared.
“Excuse me, are y’all done,” a hefty girl asked while her track pieces hung by threads with an excessive glitch of craters on her face. Why do girls wear the silkiest weave with knotty roots?
“Yeah we are,” he said.
“Good, because a bitch is thirsty,” she said grabbing her throat as we walked away in hilarity.
“You better buy your girlfriend a sprite to quench her thirst,” I laughed.
“Oh, so you have jokes? How do your pronounce your name, it sounds Spanish,” he asked looking at my name in his phone.
“My name is Delmar, but you sure didn’t tell me yours.”
“I am Jeremy, let me hold your phone real quick,” he reached his hand out for my Blackberry and typed his information into the phone. “Now, I’m looking forward to talking to you, shorty.”
“We will see if I like you enough.”
“Oh you will! Trust me, you won’t be disappointed,” he licked his lips & walked out of the main door. He is not the typical guy I date, but it seems he can hold a good conversation & his swagger reminds me of Jay-Z. Not the most attractive person, but their personality turns you the hell on.
“
Stay in touch, baby face. I’d really like to get to know you, on some serious shit
,” Jeremy said in a text message.
“Like I said, we will see. But I’m about to record a song, hit you later,” I responded through text.

I
met with Roger to blow steam from the devastating date I had with the doctor. I figured a listening session involving Ms. Delmar would be an enjoyment, especially to hear him pop & crackle.

“Are you ready,” Roger asked Delmar before he inserted the headphones on top of his head in the recording booth.
“Yes sir! You can start the track,” Delmar insisted as I looked at Roger irritably.
“Be a good boy, Nicolas,” Roger whispered.
“I am a good boy,” I placed my finger across my lip swearing as Roger played the instrumental and Delmar read the music sheet.
“Memories fade away like the cotton skies that are gray. Hidden by the memories,” Delmar crooned as I listened with my eyes shut. His velvety voice complimented the scales of the song, and he sung the melody the way I “heard” it whilst writing.
“He sounds really good,” Roger whispered in my ear.
“Yeah he does,” I admitted.
“The pictures were painted for you, but you refused to see the base of the true colors. The colors of an ill-fated guy,” he belted the bridge and the goose-bumps appeared on my arms, but something was not right.
“Wait stop! Stop the track,” I yelled as Roger looked confusingly.
“What’s wrong,” Delmar asked.
“Nothing! Can you take it back to the line ‘refused’ for me please? I want you to go a little higher, it was kind of flat,” I said.
“I was flat? I’m never flat,” he said.
“Yes, Delmar. You were a little flat, I just want to hear you sing it higher with more vibrato. That’s all,” I explained.
“Ok, whatever you say… boss,” he said.
“Roger, can you start the bridge over again please,” I asked. “I told you he was going to be a pain in the ass.”
“I think he was fine, he didn’t sound flat to me,” Roger whispered.
“Well, I wrote the song a certain way and I know how I hear it in my head,” I responded. “If he is going to record my song, then I want the best from him.”
“The pictures were painted for you, but you refu-u-u-s-se-d,” Delmar cracked as he attempted to climb higher. Usually, I would laugh at the mistake someone as arrogant as he would make, but I wanted this to be right.
“Stop the track,” I yelled.
“I am so sorry I sound horrible,” Delmar apologized.
“It is fine, we just have to get that note right. I know you can do it, give me the same note,” I said as Roger smiled at me.
“What”, I asked.
“Nothing, I see someone’s growing into a man,” Roger whispered.
“Okay, Delmar. I want you to start from the top again!”

I
sat on the love seat with my head buried in my hands in a silence that felt so loud. It would be a denying fact if I claimed there wasn’t any tension, Nico sat across the room from me playing the same key over & over again on the piano. He hardly said a thing or two to me since the visit to the hospital three days ago. He looks like a sad puppy being taken away from his mother.

“Baby, are you alright,” I asked holding Milo in my arms as I finished the remainder of the Chardonnay from a week ago.

“Yes, I will be cool. I am learning the chords to this new song,” he said barely touching any key on the piano with his brain itching to bust out of his head.

“Dammit, Abdul! Are you telling me the truth about being faithful? Because things are not adding up to me,” he said slamming his fingers on the keys.

“I knew you were going to ask me that again. For the third time, I am telling you the truth. I can pull out my test results to show you I am negative. I don’t know how you contracted syphilis,” I lifted myself up from the couch and kneeled down to reassure my innocence. There was vacancy in his eyes that detracted from the substantial issue. The coldness in his pupils dilated into a mystery of what thoughts are channeled in his brain.

He removed himself from the piano still engaged in eye contact with me & I felt a sudden chill grasp me down my spine, as he closed the piano case down, and walked to the bathroom a few feet away from the living room! Figuratively speaking, Nico’s shadow on the wall resonate the spun of an evil creature with horns, and bird-like legs.

“New message,” Nico’s phone alerted sedentary on the dining room table. The blue light on the phone glared on the wall, as I stared at it. My hands were triggered by curiosity, but my legs were ready to escape inside the kitchen to look for a bite to eat.

“New Message,” the phone alerted again, and I was distracted by the blue light reflecting on the wall. A sandwich called my stomach, but that phone screamed “Abdul, pick me up.”

I glanced at the closed bathroom door, and heard Nico humming Minnie Riperton’s “Inside my Love”, then glanced back at the phone. I anxiously bit my lips, and stared from the corner of my eyes, quickly snatching the phone off the table as I paced back & forth in the kitchen.

The display screen revealed itself and the phone was on lock. Frustration burst my beefy chest, eager to know what the message consist of. The password was none other than “Hyman”, considering he is a huge Phyllis Hyman fan. The phone displayed two new messages, and the most recent text said:

Before I could read the messages sent, Nico walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his neck pouting like someone stole his last cookie out of the jar. I desperately wanted to ask what did these texts mean, and if it would be a revelation of everything I thought I knew? Thoughts began to attack my brain cells like a massive race at the Baltimore Preakness. A big part of me wanted to avoid any argument that would trigger from a simple question, but the other half was curious to inquire.

“Who’s Deshawn,” I asked biting down on my bottom lip.
“Huh? Who said something about a Deshawn,” he asked avoiding eye contact with me.
“I did. He just sent you a message.”
“A message? Why are you going through my phone,” he asked.
“Because I have a right to, you do it all the time to me. But not for one second have I done it to you. And I am happy I did,” I smiled.
“So what did it say,” he asked nervously.
“I want you to answer me, first. Who is Deshawn?”
“No one that concerns you,” he yelled.
“Oh no one that concerns me? But if the shoe was on the other foot, I’d be interrogated & you would hang me above a campfire.”
“I’m not doing anything behind your back, Abdul. You are looking for answers and making an ass out of yourself once again.”
“Oh really? Well explain this text to me,” I yelled pushing the phone towards his face.
“Deshawn is a GIRL! She’s a piece of fish, pussy, kitty kat… a piece I’m not interested in.”
“Do you really expect for me to believe that?”
“Hey, it’s up to you! But her number is right there in my phone if you want to call her. The choice is yours,” he confidently said cutting his eyes at me, and gripping the towel with his hands. I didn’t know if this was a manipulative scheme trying to intimidate me to drop the situation or if he was actually telling the truth.
“So if you didn’t cheat on me and I didn’t cheat on you, then how did you get Syphilis, Nicolas,” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered.
“So, you never cheated on me before?”
“No!”
“So you’re telling me you have never been with anyone else in the past three years.”
“I never said that, either.”
“So you did cheat?”
“No, it was when we were broken up.”
“So you are telling me you had unprotected sex with someone while we were broken up for a few days. Was it the time when it lasted for about two weeks?”
“No, it was the time after that,” he said nonchalantly.
“The time after that? Nico, that was last month and we were only broken up for two days.”
“Well yeah. That is when it happened.”
“I guess you wanted a dick inside you that bad, huh,” I yelled as my hands trembled & my anxiety thrashed upon my body. He sat there in silence as if he did nothing wrong.
I waited for him to tell me it was a joke and he’s trying to get a reaction out of me. This can’t be real, someone just tell me I am dreaming right now. It feels worse than an episode of the “Twilight Zone”.
“So who was he,” I asked.
“I’d rather not share that,” Nico whispered.
“Oh, you have no choice!”

The
birds chirped outside, singing sweet melodies along the wind that blew heavily against my window pane. They were like a concoction enchanting over my head, yet it caressed like a sweet dream I did not want to awake from.

The world was as magical as the land of “OZ”, and recurrences of Jeremy standing in the hallway asking for my number flashed across my mind. A guy approached me in a public space without being in a gay environment. The way he did it was beyond anything imaginable, and I have not stopped thinking about it since that morning.

God has a funny way of distracting you from your problems because a few days ago, all I could do was mope around after I did not receive a call from Abdul since last Friday & being escorted from my class. I have yet to straighten the situation with my professor and I am confused about Abdul. He practically stood me up, as I awaited his arrival the entire night. What is difficult about informing a person of prior
engagements? It is quite daunting, since I never liked someone to this extent. For all I know, Ty could be right about him being involved in a relationship because he’s too reluctant to have a decent conversation with me or even meet.