The Blackbirds (4 page)

Next was birthday breakfast two miles away at CJ's Cafe. The mom-and-pop-style Latino-owned café on La Brea was packed, half of the customers speaking in Spanish.

Ericka said, “Twelve hours to go and it's your official moment of birth, Indigo.”

Indigo said, “I want some buck naked before my birthday is over.”

Kwanzaa said, “So, in other words, you want to celebrate coming out of your mother's vagina by letting someone come in yours.”

“I hate you, Kwanzaa. And who names their child Kwanzaa? How ghetto is that?”

“Your name is Indigo. Why? Because you're so black you look blue.”

Destiny said, “You two are so cute when you argue like warring nations.”

Ericka bit into her toast, then asked, “Indigo, on the real, you and the footballer on or off?”

“Olamilekan wants to spend time with me. I'm number one in his heart. We know that.”

Ericka said, “And? Are you going to see him tonight, or do you have a plan B named Yaba?”

Indigo hummed. “Depends on how the day goes. I'm thirsty, but I ain't crazy thirsty like Kwanzaa. Yaba is calling me over and over, so heartbroken that I'm serious with Olamilekan.”

Destiny said, “We need to buy Indigo a Plan B for her birthday.”

Indigo said, “Since all of you are so freaking interested in who's
making it do what it do with me, it's time for another girl confession. Be real. Who was the last one at this table to have sex? It's been five excruciating weeks for me. So who's been on the baloney pony since then?”

Ericka said, “We don't say
sex
. We call it what it really is. Sacred energy exchange.”

“It's sex. Keep the shit real. Who was the last one to get something that made them call out to both God and Jesus?”

Ericka said, “Indigo, his name was
Yeshua,
not Jesus. Yeshua to Jesus comes from mistranslations, mispronunciations when translated. The man spoke Hebrew, not English. Stupid people think he was American. They did an Ellis Island on his name, made over the name of the man many say is the son of El Shaddai; the son of He whom made Himself known to them by the name that was spelled
Y-H-W-H,
and that was done in Exodus, and the original pronunciation of that has been lost. God is Y-H-W-H. No one knows how to say those four consonants correctly. There were no vowels in Hebrew and they did an Ellis Island on that as well and made Y-H-W-H into
Yahweh
, then guessed the pronunciation based on what they could already pronounce.”

Indigo asked, “What the hell does this have to do with sex?”

“If you called out to Jesus, he wouldn't turn around. It's like his name is Mike and you're calling him Jonathan, so he thinks you're moaning to somebody else.”

Indigo snapped, “Smartass.”

“Miss Smartass to you.”

“No one asked for a scholarly lecture on my birthday. Just for that, I'm raising your rent.”

“Go raise your own rent. That joke is so old.”

“What difference does it make? The whole creation story was stolen from Africa. Now for the last time, who was the last one of us to get some? Stay focused.”

Kwanzaa said, “Well, we know it wasn't Ericka or Destiny. Wasn't me. Had to be you.”

All laughed except for Destiny, then they all turned to her to see what was going on.

Indigo said, “What about you, Destiny? You're carrying condoms for some reason.”

Ericka said, “Destiny has rubbers?”

“The Trojan is carrying Trojans in her pocket. Tell us what's going on.”

Destiny said, “Well, since you are my besties, and we do keep it real, unless one of you misfits got some since about two thirty, maybe three this morning, I think I might win that trophy.”

Indigo said, “Get out of here. You met somebody and didn't tell us, or you had a one-off and didn't come and brag about it so we could call you a sneaky thot and a bloody whore?”

“I don't do one-offs. Slow down, girls. Since you feel the need to be all up in my business, let me tell the story from the start. Once upon a time, a few full moons ago, I went out clubbing one night, a night when all of y'all were busy doing whatever y'all do when y'all sneak away from Little Lagos. I met this guy. We had fun dancing, made out a bit, then exchanged numbers.”

“Made out?”

“Yeah. We made out.”

“You need to define what you mean by
made out.
For some folks, especially in the clubs, a blow job is making out. And anal isn't considered sex, it's just a way of asking
how ya doing
.”

“You know, light kissing that became heavy kissing, light touching on top of the clothes. No oral sex and definitely no anal sex. I'm not as freaky as you, Ericka and Kwanzaa.”

“You're lying. You kissed a guy
and
let him feel you up the night you met him?”

“I felt him up too.”

“You jacked him off?”

“No. But we did a little grinding when he walked me to my motorcycle.”

“Liar. You don't let people touch you and you don't touch people like that.”

“That night I let down my wall and kissed for the thrill of being kissed, but drew the line at kissing and nice titty massage, didn't give up
Momma's pearl. It was hard because chills were going up and down my spine and the pearl was throbbing.”

“You've slept with him, or are you still just petting and grinding?”

“About a month, two hundred kisses, and four hundred nipple licks later, I went on a double date with him and his best friend and his best friend's Asian girlfriend, and after a couple of glasses of wine, a lot of laughs, more dancing, and more grinding, I ended up half naked in his bed with a big, fluffy pillow under my booty. Damn. Why is everyone looking at me like I'm lying?”

“What does he do?”

“Mechanical engineer at Northrop in El Segundo.”

“He's a geek like you?”

“A math- and sci-fi-loving geek like me.”

“Did he have a pick-up line?”

“Don't they all?”

“What did he say?”

“He made me laugh.”

“What did he say?”

Destiny imitated her male friend. “‘Baby, you all that. Can I be your man? I got a Big Wheel parked out front, and we can roll down to Crenshaw and get a bean pie.'”

The girls applauded in slow motion, faces twisted, not impressed.

Destiny said, “I thought it was cute. He said
Big Wheel.
It was funny. He didn't say the standard stupid crap a brother usually says. He made me smile.”

“What does he drive?”

“A Ram 3500. And the personalized plates say
MYBGWL
. My Big Wheel.”

Ericka, Indigo, and Kwanzaa groaned in unison.

Indigo said, “Two nerds kissing. Sounds as romantic as romance on
Big Bang Theory
.”

Destiny beamed. “I'm a sapiosexual and
love
the Big Bang way he talks nerdy to me.”

“Which is why I don't watch
Big Bang Theory
. I can't grasp what they're talking about.”

Destiny laughed. “He's not all nerd. He loves hip-hop. He's a decent dancer. At work he dresses very conservatively, but he gets funky with it at night.”

“Looks?”

“He's bald with a goatee.”

“Complexion?”

“Brown.”

“Light brown or dark brown?”

“Light brown skin, the complexion a cop would stop to harass but wouldn't do a full-blown Rodney King, at least not right away. He's a horrible speller and his grammar isn't perfect.”

“Public school.”

“Yeah. You can tell he went to public school and spent too much time doing hood dances, because he loves to party. He's not much of a cook, but he tries.”

“Where is he from originally?”

“He grew up in the area. He was in public school while I was in private school, so we never ran in the same circles and never met each other anywhere that we remember.”

“Sounds like a sexy geek who would never win at Scrabble.”

“He would be a dominoes and spades kind of guy.”

“How tall is he?”

“About five ten.”

“Is he fit like you?”

“More or less. He's a normal guy, needs to work on the six-pack, but not fat.”

“A fixer-upper.”

“Since we met he's been spending more time in the gym.”

“Well, at least he's trying.”

“He loves my body, did I mention that?”

“No, you did not.”

“He likes to be in the bed with me naked, watching
Star Trek
while he runs his fingers up and down my spine, across the curvature of what he desires to dress up and cosplay with.”

“Corny.”

“Whatever.”

“How old is he?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Single or divorced?”

“Single, never been married.”

“Ever been engaged?”

“Never been engaged.”

“Kids?”

“No kids.”

“Loves his mother?”

“Comes from a big family, loves his mom, but is not a momma's boy.”

“Pedigree?”

“He's a second-gen college graduate in his family.”

“Is the brother eligible to vote? Has he ever picked up trash on the side of the freeway?”

“No prison record. No felonies. Not a registered sex offender.”

All eyes and grins stayed on Destiny and the embarrassed smile plastered on her face.

It had been a while since she had dated anyone. She had dated a junior at UCLA, a man who just wanted to sleep with Destiny because in his twisted mind she was an accidental porn star. He wanted to hook up with her at his parents' home in the Palisades, and after they had had drinks and made out, she almost did sleep with him, but she saw his iPhone across the room. It had buzzed with an alert. He had it aimed at the center of the bed, at Destiny, who was in her panties and bra. He was trying to record her, was trying to stream having sex with her live via the Periscope app. He had broadcast their foreplay live. It didn't end well for him. After Destiny had deleted all he had recorded from his phone, she had taken a knife and chased him through his home, caught him, beat him Hoosegow style, blackened both of his eyes, broken his nose, and was tempted to delete him. Word on the street was that he shall forever walk with a mild limp.

The guy before that was Eduardo Terrazas Gaxiola, a visual artist who had graduated from the Universidad Autonóma de Baja California. Destiny had been honest with him too, had told him her real name, which he didn't recognize, being from another country. On the third
date, as they sat at Gladstones with the Pacific Ocean a few feet away, seagulls in the air, she felt it might go somewhere, and was ready to open her world up to him, was ready for him to meet her friends, her mother and her father. She told him what had happened. She never heard from him again. No texts returned. Befriended in his ignorance, then
defriended
in real life, like she had the bubonic plague.

Telling Indigo, Ericka, and Kwanzaa she had met someone was a big deal.

She had wanted to tell them. She had dropped the condom on purpose because she knew Indigo would find a way to bring it up when they were all together as a group.

Destiny said, “He grew up in Baldwin Hills and lives in Culver City.”

Indigo asked, “Apartment, house, or condo?”

“Condo.”

“You see him often?”

“He's taken me out a few times.”

“Where? El Pollo Loco or McDonald's?”

“Neither. He took me to the Bazaar by José Andrés Beverly Hills, the Palm, Mastro's Steakhouse Beverly Hills, the Living Room at the Peninsula, the Ivy, Caffé Roma. Opaque.”

“You went to Opaque? The restaurant where it's dark and the blind staff are waiters?”

“Yeah. You have to use your senses.”

“Expensive?”

“About a C-note per person. No cell phones allowed. You can't even see your food or with whom you're dining, but you can feel their touch. Very interesting place. Sexy. I was comfortable.”

“He's taking you to some nice spots. He's trying to impress you.”

“Well, now you know I met somebody and I like him a lot.”

“How often do you see him?”

“Some nights, especially Fridays, I stop by his condo after FedEx to get a good-night kiss. I try to stop by a couple of times a week. A woman has to secure and maintain her position.”

Indigo asked, “You know ain't nothing open in L.A. after midnight but a woman's legs.”

Destiny said, “That too. When I'm naked, he looks at me like I'm one of God's perfect creations and, yes, I've become a hopeless romantic with a dirty, perverted, curious mind.”

“Corny.”

“Stop hatin'. I confessed.”

Indigo said, “No wonder you've been coming home right before sunrise so energetic.”

Kwanzaa said, “She just giggled. Our Destiny does not do a girly giggle. Oh, my God. She's blushing. This is an imposter. Where is the real Destiny?”

Ericka asked, “When do we meet this amazing guy who has tamed the shrew?”

Indigo said, “We need to see him and his friends, the single, employed, and cute ones.”

Destiny said, “I'm trying to see how it works out because, well, like I do strangers, I gave him my club name the night we met. He knows me as Kismet Kellogg, not as Destiny Jones.”

Kwanzaa asked, “How serious is it between you and the mechanical engineer?”

“He gave me a key card to the gate and a door key to his condo last night.”

Ericka said, “Get out. You can get in his crib and snoop around when he's not home?”

“And I have a toothbrush, a tongue brush, and a box of Honey Nut Cheerios over there.”

Indigo said, “You're shacking up then. I hope he's charging you rent there too.”