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cashmierathoughts · 7 years

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Riley ‘Nem “Who Is He?” pt. 4

Despite my utter surprise, I didn't break our unspoken agreement. When Jake approached me, we didn’t speak, we just danced.

We danced for what seemed like all night. My eyes we closed and Jake’s hands softly guided my hips as they swayed from side to side like drapes being touched by a calm wind. I relaxed my body and let my head hang back and allowed myself to rest on his chest as he leaned down and whispered the lyrics to Usher’s ‘Can You Handle It’ in my right ear. With each word, I could feel the cool tickles from every syllable spiral in one ear and out the next, traveling down, causing all the hairs on the back of my neck to stand.

I was completely in a trance. Jake positioned my body so that I was now facing him. When I opened my eyes and caught his stare, I fully understood the colloquialism, “windows to the soul”.

I happened to glance over Jake’s shoulder and saw a figure approaching us from off in the cut. A shorter and less defined version of Jake came over and pulled him to the side. Before I knew it, Jake took me by the hand, kissed it, and promised to call me the next day.

Moments had passed and I was still standing in the middle of the dance floor on stuck. I was in a daze. Still. I felt a clammy hand grab me by the arm, yanking me back into reality. I looked up and saw that the yanking hand belonged to Jordyn.

J: “Riley! I’ve been calling your name for like the last two songs. The lights been on, let’s go”.

I looked around and noticed that the lights were on. I never stayed around for the lights to come on; no one did. Luckily, I had used extra strength edge control that night so I was still looking decent, even after the fact.

We waited for Keesha by the side exit as she pretended to flirt with the promoter, securing our free entry into his future events. He attempted to get her to go home with him. Promising her he’d call Jordyn and I an Uber and “take good care of her”. Unbeknownst to him, there were TWO reasons why that was not going to happen: 1. We came in MY car and 2. Keesha was a virgin. Untouched by any part of the penis, she was not about to let him hit. As she finished her conversation and strutted over to us, twisting her hips in a captivating motion, knowing the promoter was still watching, he lustfully eyed her, imagining all the ways he would never fuck her.

Jordyn kept up her end of the bargain and got in the driver’s seat. Keesha rode shotgun and I climbed in the back. This arrangement reminded me of college. After the parties, after the AFTER parties, or after the smoke sessions, we’d all pile up in whoever’s car and get dropped off one by one to “our niggas’” spot. We called it the dick-mobile. But this wasn’t college and we were all taking our asses home.

I spread out in the backseat, finally able to appreciate how spacious my car actually was. It’s kind of funny, but I don’t think I’d ever sat back here before. The smoothness of the ride, along with those six shots and thoughts of Jake’s hands wrapped around me, cradled me into a light slumber. When I woke up, Jordyn had already dropped Keesha off and we were pulling into our parking garage. We took the elevator up to level five, got off, and walked a few steps to our door. We were greeted by a ratty vintage doormat that read, “How are ya?”. I looked down at it and absentmindedly mumbled, “horny”.

J: “Huh?”

“Huh?.. Oh, nothing”, I replied, almost forgetting she was standing beside me.

I climbed into my bed, set my alarm for church in the morning and went to sleep.

The next morning, I got up with no signs of a hangover and thought to myself, “God is good”. I went to Jordyn’s room to wake her up for church but she wasn't there. I walked to the living room and there was still no sign of her. I didn't have time to play ‘Where’s Waldo’ with her so I text her and then got in the shower. When I got out, I checked my phone; still no Jordyn. I proceeded to get dressed and on my way out the door, I took a pack of chicken thighs out of the freezer and placed them in the kitchen sink to thaw out. We, Jordyn and I, made it a part of our Sunday routine to cook dinner.

I got to church about fifteen minutes late, but that was right on time when it came to being a member of a baptist church. Praise and worship lasted well over its allotted time slot and old Mrs. Jones was right on schedule with her ‘Holy Ghost’ performance, pushing the sermon back another seven minutes. When I walked through the double doors leading to the sanctuary, Mrs. Jones was hitting her victory lap, circling the perimeter of the pews. Like I said, I was right on time. I found a seat in the center aisle of the church, next to a husband, wife, and their three small children. I usually didn’t sit next to kids at church because they were a distraction; always kicking and swinging their little feet, going on and on about nothing with their sweet little voices. And worst of all, they were so stinking cute. I had baby fever like a mothafucka, but I knew I wasn't ready. It was two little girls and a boy; they all seemed to be at least a year or two apart. The little boy daintily placed his little hand on my lap and looked up at me with such big and innocent eyes and asked if I had any candy. Before I could confirm, his mother leaned over and said, “Jake, come over here and sit next to your daddy, baby.” I smiled at the irony and at the thought of having my own little one and naming him Jake, after his daddy of course.

I quickly said a prayer and asked God to refocus my attention to the Word and not on hypothetical baby daddies and children.

“...and, and, and...GAWD, I said, GAWD! Won’t give you anything you can’t bare!..”, Pastor Joiner went on as the choir echoed him, singing, “HE WON’T!”, all in unison.

You could hear the church cry out in agreement. “Hallelujah!”. “Praise the Lord!”, followed by the occasional “Won’t He do it!?”, or my personal favorite, “You betta ask somebody!”.

Shortly after, the ushers surfaced and passed around buckets to collect tithes and offering. I looked to my left and saw the family that I was sitting next to getting their money together. The dad pulled out his brown leather wallet and handed his three children one dollar each and instructed them to put it in the bucket when it came around. I smiled to myself as I bared witness to such a loving, yet simple duty. As the bucket came around to me, I prayed a simple prayer and asked God to bless me with a good man and to allow me to be just as good of a woman to him, Amen.

The whole way home, I smiled. Believe it or not, it wasn't because Pastor Joiner preached his ass off this morning. It was because today was “tomorrow” and Jake said he’d call. I turned the volume back up on my phone because I would be damned if I missed his call. Pressed wasn't even the word.

I pulled into the parking garage and found out why Jordyn hadn't been answering her phone. Robert’s car was parked in visitors’. I guess they made up. When I got off the elevator and stepped into the hallway, I could hear them arguing. I paused in front of the door, contemplating whether or not I wanted to get caught in their crossfire. Our nosey ass neighbor Becca poked her head out of the door and quickly closed it once she saw me in the hall. I decided to leave and as I was walking away, I heard Jordyn yell, “WELL GO FUCK YA MAMA THEN!”. Yup, I was glad that I’d made the choice to leave. Robert wasn’t the domestic violence type so I knew that they would eventually calm down and find a resolution. They always did. In the meantime, I hit Keesha up and went to post up over her house.

When I pulled up to her house, I canvased her street for my aunt and uncle’s car. I didn’t see it and figured that they were still at church. I walked up the creaky steps and knocked on the screen door. Keesha answered and rushed back to the kitchen. I followed behind her and was engulfed by fried chicken fumes. Keesha was cleaning off collards in the sink, prepping Sunday dinner for Aunt Bernadine’s return.

K: “So who was you all hugged up with last night at The Spot?”, investigated Keesha.

“Who me?”, I asked, trying to act like I didn’t know what she was referring to.

K: “Who me?”, she mocked. “Yea, YOU, nigga. Who was that tall dude that was all up in yo ear?”.

I gushed just thinking about it.

“Just this guy I work with”, I tried to keep my response as casual as possible.

K: “’Just this guy I work with’ my ass. Cuz, he was onnnn you! I danced with like four or five niggas and every time I looked up for you, you was still with ya mans. Who is he?”

I couldn't hold back my true thoughts anymore. I was not the best at concealing my feelings, which turned out to do me more harm than good. So I dished it to her, “Okay. Jake is a senior partner at my job. He is smart, he’s successful, he’s fine, no kids..ugh. He is everything. I had no idea that he would be at the party last night and we don't even talk outside of work or nothing. I’ve been checking for him for a while now but after last night... it’s official; I want him.”

K: “Oooh, senior partner you say? He got moneeeyy! So what you gone do about it? You baggin’ that orrr?”

“Am I “baggin’ that”? Seriously Keesh? I mean, yes I like him. But we work together. Office romances aren't my thing. It never ends well. Then if it takes a turn for the worst, I gotta see him at work. I don't know. Plus everything is still sort of fresh with Bri--”, she cut me off before I could even finish his name.

K: “Brian!? BRIAN?! After how he dogged you, you still worried about that nigga? Had a whole ba--”.

“That’s enough Keesh!”, I interrupted. “I’m just saying that I don't want to rush anything with Jake. That doesn’t mean that I’m stuck on Brian.”

K: “Mmm hmm. Yea, okay. Better not be. But hol’ up, you said his name was Jake? That sounds so familiar...”

“Yea, but anyways, what’s up with that promoter guy you was stringing along last night?”, I poked.

K: “Who? Troy? Girl he ain’t nobody. I was tryna get us on the guest list for Fab’s birthday party”, she explained.

“Us!? Girl I’m not going to that man’s birthday party. You know I don't even hang like that anymore”.

K: “Well you need to start. I don’t know how else you gone get you a man, shiddd”.

I just looked at her and shook my head. There was really no point in continuing this conversation with Keesha. We had it every other month. She knew good and well I wasn't looking for a man in the club. That was the last place I thought I’d find Mr. Right.

“You already know how I feel abo--..”

K: “...About meeting a man in the club. Blah, blah, blah”, she interjected.

“Eggs-actly”, I said in a matter of fact tone.

K: “So I guess “Jake”, is it? Don't count? Bettt...”, she laughed.

“Aw, that’s different.. I know him from work..”, I tried to compromise.

K: “BUT, you also said you don't do office romances. So which is it? You either fuck with niggas in the club or you getting dicked down in the copy room. Right now, it looks like ya mans Jake is oh for two”, she teased.

I cut my eyes at her. Damn, she was right. If I let anything happen between Jake and I, I would be going against two of my own rules. BUT, if I didn’t, I could potentially be letting the man of my dreams slip away. In reality, how far had those “rules” really gotten me? The last man I was with didn’t work at my job and I didn't meet him in the club and he still turned out to be a fuckin’ dirtbag. With that reasoning. I decided to say fuck it and give it a shot.

“Don’t worry about me, Keesh. I got this”, I assured her. Although I was not confident at all in my declaration.

I hung around her house for about another forty-five minutes, then called Jordyn to see if the two of them had ceased fire. When she answered, I could tell by her groggy tone that she had worn herself out and was either half sleep or she was in the middle of getting fucked. Either way, I was homebound. I had to get started on my own dinner.

When I got home, Robert was gone. Jordyn had seasoned the chicken and had it marinating in the refrigerator. Perfect. I went to my room and plopped down on my bed, kicked my pumps off, and turned the volume on my phone up to high so that I wouldn't sleep through Jake’s call. My final thoughts before I dozed off were that I hoped he didn’t FaceTime me. I hated that.

Shortly after I’d laid down, I rolled over in a half panic, thinking I had missed his call. Even though I didn’t have any missed call notifications, I went ahead and checked my call history anyway; you just never know. Nope. No missed calls, no voicemails, no texts. Nothing. Again, I was pressed. I stood up, stretched, and then headed for the kitchen to start on dinner. Jordyn was sitting on the couch rewatching last week’s episode of ‘Insecure’. I was glad because the kitchen overlooked the living room and I could see the show while I cooked.

J: “Girl was that JAKE at he club last night?!”, Jordyn shouted over the volume of the TV.

“Yup”, I said plainly. I really didn't want to have this conversation for a second time today.

I preheated the oven to about 365 degrees and laced the pan with aluminum foil before I emptied the chicken and all of its marinade into the pan.

J: “Riley! You gon’ miss it! C’mere. Hurry up!”

I flung open the oven door, slid the pan onto the bottom rack, and rushed into the living room just in time.

“Uggghhhhh!”, we shouted in union.

J: “I would have diiiieeed bitch!”, exclaimed Jordyn. “I can not bee-lieve that trifling ass nigga nutted on her face like that! We woulda had to bump after that! Fareal”.

I laughed. Jordyn was always talking about fighting somebody. Knowing damn well she wouldn't bust a grape in a fruit fight.

“Ahhh.. she wasn’t ready..”, I hollered. “I think she over reacted though. I mean, when you pull a trigger, do you not expect a bullet to come out?”.

J: “Aww”, she covered her mouth. “I knew it.. I knew it, I knew it.”

“What? Knew what, J?”, I questioned.

J: “I knew yo ass was nasty!”, she teased. “I just didn't think you was letting niggas bust all on your face!”.

“Chilllll. I’m just saying, he told her he was about to bust. She should have acted accordingly; swallowed and kept it pushing. Imagine if every time we were about to cum, the nigga stopped or got shitty that we squirted on his face. Haha. They love that shit and so should we. But at the end of the day, Issa just ain’t bout that hoe life. Which is fine. I, for one, really don’t think this “hoe-tation” shit is necessary. There are other ways to get over a guy.”

J: “Aw here you gooo. You’re the most “anti- hoe phase” woman I’ve ever met. There’s nothing wrong with fucking who you wanna fuck, when you wanna fuck ‘em. Even if that means you’re with two or three or four niggas a month. that’s her decision.”, protested Jordyn.

Mind you, Jordyn was a “relationship” type of woman. She never even slept with more than 4 guys, so the fact that she was so pro- hoe phase was really a trip.

“So what you not gone do is act like I be judging these hoes. Haha. ‘Cause I don’t. I’m just saying it isn’t the go-to for everybody. At the end of the day, we all grown. If Issa or anybody else for that matter feels like doing numerous dicks, go right ahead baby girl. But don’t justify it with a ‘cause niggas ain’t shit’ or call it a ‘hoe phase’ cause at that point, are you not acknowledging that you are that said ‘hoe’? And bitches hate being called a hoe but wanna claim a “hoe phase”. Make it make sense”

J: “You must’ve gone to church today, huh? Haha. Pastor Joiner got you feeling all high and mighty?”, taunted Jordyn. “I hear you though”.

I playfully rolled my eyes and sat back on the couch and waited for the next episode. Just as I was getting comfortable, my phone started buzzing on the kitchen counter. I hopped off the couch and raced over to the kitchen with the quickness. Just as I reached my phone and went to answer it, I stubbed my fucking toe.

“”Fuuuucccckkkk!”

J: “Uhh.. Riley?”, asked a deep yet calming and soothing voice.

My eyes were closed due to the extreme amount of pain surging from my pinky toe. I hadn’t even looked at the phone to see who was calling but once I heard the voice on the other end of the line, I immediately knew who it was. It was him. It was Jake. I froze, half embarrassed because of the way I answered the phone and half elated because of who was on the receiving end.

“Hello?”, I answered hesitantly.

“Is this a bad time? It’s Jake by the way”, he said smoothly.

“No!”, I blurted out. “I meant, no, this isn’t a bad time. I just stubbed my toe as I was answering the phone. Sorry for yelling in your ear”, I apologized.

J: “Damn, which toe? I hate when that shit happens, I be ready to fight”.

I was shocked by his response and I don’t know why. It’s not like I really knew the man. I’d only had a compilation of shared random “moments” at work with him and had used those very moments to create his personality. Sounds crazy, I know. Strangely enough, hearing Jake speak in this way relaxed me.

“My pinky”, I finally admitted. “Running to the damn kitchen to ---”, I stopped myself. I couldn’t let him know I was running to the kitchen because my phone rang and I desperately wanted it to be him. “--- check on something”, I finished.

Technically, I didn't lie.

J: “You cookin’?”.

“As a matter of fact, I am”. Wow, now I really didn't have to lie. I was cooking and actually had almost forgotten with all that had just happen in the last couple minutes.

“Aw you can burn? or you making stir fry or something that doesn't require any particular skill?”.

Did this nigga just come for me?

“Well aren’t you sassy”.

J: “Whoa. You can't call a man sassy, Riley...”.

He went on to explain why but I was caught up on the way my name sounded leaving his lips.

“...just doesn’t sound right”, finished Jake.

“You done?”, I joked. “But to answer your question, I’m making honey glazed baked chicken thighs, side caesar, corn bread muffins, and macaroni and cheese for me and my roommate.”

J: “Aw yea? You cookin’ like that and didn’t invite me over? Haha.”

His laugh.. I could just melt right here on this kitchen counter. “Cut it out, Riley”, I told myself. I had to keep it cool and casual. I didn’t want to be all open.

I didn't even eat my dinner. The hunger in my stomach was now replaced by what felt like a thousand fluttering butterflies. Before I knew it, we’d been on the phone for hours. I couldn't sit still. I’d done about a hundred laps around our apartment, even went to the roof and walked around some. It was so nostalgic. It reminded me of when I was in high school and would stay up all night on the phone.. just talking. I was really impressed. Up until now, I’d stopped believing in the art of conversation. Jake changed my mind and I was glad that he did.

We talked about our first loves, losing our virginities and how awful it was; well to be clear, how awful it was for me. Jake on the other hand was a star athlete since the age of eight and lost his virginity at the age of TWELVE, to a fifteen year old. Fast ass. So he’s been fuckin’ for a while now. I wondered how many women he’d slept with but I didn't want to be “that girl” and ask. At the end of the day, I didn't want it to matter, BUT I also didn't want to be with someone who slang dick to everybody and their mama’s for sport. For now, I tried to forget about it. His conversation was way too scintillating to get hung up on such a childish matter.

We talked about our dreams. Our fears. We talked about the simple shit that doesn’t seem to matter so much these days but mattered to us at some point. Simple shit like: favorite colors, apples or oranges, Batman or Superman, up or down; it really didn't matter, we just TALKED. We allowed ourselves to learn one another. So far, he was everything I could hope for. The night grew later and later. It was almost 2:30 in the morning and we were still going strong. I made the mistake of yawning.

J: “Uh oh, you sleepy?”, he asked.

“Not at all”, I lied. I didn't want to hang up but I was actually tired and had to be at work by 7:30 that next morning.

J: “You should get some rest, you have to work in the morning, right?”, it was like he wasn't asking me, but was telling me.

I succumbed to his passive aggressive way of telling me to go to bed.

J: “Goodnight, Riley”, he said sincerely.

“Goodnight, Jake”, I said softly as I let the phone slide from my face and onto my pillow. I didn't hang up though. I watched the screen and waited for the timer on the face of my phone to flash a few times then fade out, signifying that the call had ended. It didn't end though. I put the phone back up to my ear and heard breathing.

“Jake?”, I asked?

J: “Mmmhm?”, he responded, all casual like.

“Aren’t you going to hang up?”. I asked in a half confused, half pleased voice.

J: “You hang up first”, he laughed.

“No, you hang up first”, I playfully combatted.

J: “Nope.”, he said childishly.

We both laughed and talked some more. this time, the conversation got a little more serious. We talked about our exes and how we had gone from being with someone who we would have given the moon to, to reaching a point where they were now apart of our pasts. Linked to a former version of ourselves. They no longer mattered. It no longer mattered. The weird thing is, Jake would never say her name. I might've said Brian’s name two or three times, but he wouldn't say her name. I’m sure I didn't know his ex, but the fact that we’d talked so much that night and had been so transparent with one another about so much and he wouldn't even say her name spiked my curiosity. Still, I didn't ask. From what he told me about her, she did a number on him and I didn't like the direction that the conversation was taking, so I tucked away all thoughts of the subject into the back of my mind, although I didn't let them wander too far back.

Before I knew it, his steady breathing was echoing through my end of the phone, like a lullaby, and carried me off to sleep.

I woke up nearly three hours later and started my morning routine: wake up, shower, get dressed, drop Jordyn off at work, and finally, head to the office. However, when I got there, I walked past Jake’s office and saw that he was not there. I figured that we’d stayed up too late on the phone last night and he probably slept in. So I went about my day, constantly checking my phone and IM account, hoping I’d get a ping or a text from Jake.

Nope. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. A whole eight hours later and no contact was made, by either of us. I started to think that I should reach out, but I made no such attempt. I didn't want to seem thirsty, or force a pattern of “we gotta talk everyday” on the man, but I also didn't want it to seem like I was too nonchalant and didn't care if I talked to him or not. After contemplating, I realized that I’d been overthinking. I sent the text.

“Hey, how are ya?”

I regretted it as soon as I saw the message say “delivered”. “How are ya?”, I deliberated. Why the fuck did I just say that? So corny. I couldn’t think of anything to say and I immediately thought about my vintage doormat. It was simple. Whatever, I reached out. I did my part.

One..two..three hours later and still no response. I left the office for the day. I definitely felt a way. I tried not to think about it, but every few minutes I’d feel or hear a phantom vibration coming from my phone. Although, when I checked it, there were no new notifications. Wow, I was officially trippin’.

I decided to stop by the gym on my way home and work out. Working out was a sure way to get my mind off things. I stripped down and sat in the sauna and let the sweat shed my body, dripping down from my temples to my feet. I peeked through one eye, making sure that no one was around before I reached my hand down preparing to pleasure myself. Just as my fingers were about to part my lips, the door to the sauna area flung open and there stood an older black woman in the doorway. I was so embarrassed that I thought I’d die. She side eyed me and copped a seat across from me in the small area. I laid there, paralyzed with humiliation. A few minutes later, I got up, wrapped my towel tightly around my body and headed for the door. As I was leaving, a stern, yet experience voice halted me and said, “Honey, you need a man”. I turned around and flashed a coy smile, both acknowledging the fact that her old ass was right and also concealing my shame. I went on my way, letting the door close softly behind me.

Could this day get any worse?

I got home and stopped at the door. I looked down and mugged our stupid doormat. “How are ya?”, I read out loud. What the fuck was I thinking?

I quickly dismissed my thoughts and proceeded inside.

Jordyn was sitting on the couch, flipping back and forth between Animal Planet and Keeping Up With the Kardashians when I walked in. I absentmindedly walked over to the kitchen counter and sifted through the mail; trashing the coupons and fake credit card advertisements and making a separate pile for the bills. I grabbed the important mail and walked to my room.

“Where did these come from!”, I shrilled.

J: “I was wondering the same thing when I opened the door for the delivery boy”, said Jordyn as she pranced to my room, pouncing down on my bed.

I snatched the card attached to the bouquet of gardenias and read it to myself. Warmth filled my chest. Goosebumps crept up my inner thighs. My brief moment of bliss was interrupted by Jordyn’s equal curiosity.

J: “Well? Who are they from?”, she interrogated.

I handed her the card and fell back on my bed and smiled. My nerves were at ease and my insecurities were laid to rest.

J: “Who’s ‘JT’?”

I didn’t answer her right away. I was too busy relishing the moment.

Finally, I said... “Jake Taylor”.

#RileyNem Part4 WhoIsHe CashmieraThoughts ShortStory

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cashmierathoughts · 7 years

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Riley ‘Nem Saturday Night Part3

I woke up Saturday morning with one thing on my mind.. I did NOT want to go to this pajama party. But I’d already told Keesha that I would go. Plus, I always reneged so I figured I might as well keep my word. Before I could finish my thoughts on the matter, my phone rang; it was Keesha facetiming me. I reluctantly answered.

Keesh: “Rise and shiiinnnne”, sang an annoying and off-key voice.

“Now what I tell you about unscheduled facetimes? You lucky I answered, wassup?”.

Keesh: “Yo grumpy ass. Sounds like somebody didn’t get no dick last niiighht.. haa!”.

(I rolled my eyes, irritated because she was right but I laughed it off.)

Keesh: “..I was calling ‘cause I need you to run to the mall with me real quick so I can find us something to wear to this pawrty [party] tonight!”, she continued.

“..and what makes you think I don’t already have something to wear?”.

Keesh: “Girl, whatever you do have, I’m sure it’s whack, so you might as well bring dat ass.”

“You’re right”, I snickered. “Okay, we can go to the mall, but I was actually gonna get a workout in before. You wanna meet me at the gym and we can go after?”. I already knew what Keesh would say, but I liked to guilt trip her anyway. You see, Keesh had BAWDY [body], always had, since we were in Jr. High. Anything she ate went to all the right places and it was that very reason alone that she did not work out. In her mind, she didn’t have to. I partially agreed.

Keesh: “Soooo.. what you saying is for me to meet you at your house when you’re done working out? Bet.”

“Shaking my head.. alright man, bye.”

I headed over to NappyHeads Gym to get a few circuits in. Once I was done, I went home with hopes of running a hot shower but not to my surprise, there was no hot water. Wet footprints mapped the hallway and led a trail to Jordyn’s bedroom. She was always using up the last of everything: the last egg, the last bit of detergent, the last roll of toilet paper, everything!

While I waited, I plugged my phone up to the aux and put my music on shuffle as I prepared to clean up. There was nothing like cleaning up to your very own soundtrack. To be honest, I would find any reason to listen to music. My love for music was unparalleled to any other emotion I’d ever felt, even that of being in love. Love lets you down. Music picked me up. It was the best high I’d ever felt, outside of actually being high and listening to ‘Footsteps in the Dark’ live. So I did the dishes, wiped down the counters, and swept the kitchen floor. When I was finished, I went to check the shower water to see if it was warm enough to bathe in. Fail. It was still cold. I was annoyed, yet content because as I was wiping down the counters and the appliances, I came across one of my emergency joints stashed away in a tin-tea can labeled “Natural Greenery”.

I usually didn’t indulge, but my baby brother sold weed and would always leave me these “stress relievers” hidden around the house. It just so happens that I came across this one today. I wasn’t necessarily stressed, but it had been a minute since I got stoned, so I lit the tail of the joint and watched the orangish embers flicker as the length of the spliff diminished. I could feel the wrinkles in my forehead vanish with each inhale. Not much longer after, I was high.

I stretched out upside down on the couch and let my head hang floppily inches away from the ground as my ponytail lightly swept the faux cherrywood floor boards. I let out a deep sigh and just as I was slipping into total relaxation, I heard a knock at the front door. I pretended to ignore it, hoping Jordyn would get it, but when she didn’t, I slowly rolled onto the floor, picked myself up off the ground and sluggishly made my way to the door.

“Who is it..?”, I asked. The peephole was covered up so I couldn’t tell who it was. I was already paranoid and high, so when the respondent’s voice was a few octaves lower than I was anticipating, I was slightly alarmed.

“Brian”, responded a man’s voice.

“Who?”, I repeated, because I thought I heard the foreign voice say ‘Brian’, but then again, I wasn’t in my right state of mind so I had to be sure.

“Brian, girl. Now open up the door.”

At that moment, I knew exactly who it was, and it wasn’t no damn Brian. It was Keesha. I took off the latch, unbolted the top lock, and opened the door, greeting her with a stale face.

With a massive grin on face and in a taunting tone, Keesha said, “Tell the truth, you thought I was Brian huh?”.

Truth is, I did think it was Brian. You see, Brian was my ex and was the sole example and definition of where the term ‘ex’ came from. I had recently EXcommunicated that nigga from my life, EXfoliated his touch from every inch of my body, and EXchanged his drama for EXhalation. To make a long story short, Brian dogged me out; but I should have known better, everybody knows ‘Brian’ is a cheating-ass name anyway.

“You lucky I opened the door”, I answered, attempting to circumvent the topic.

“You ready?”, asked Keesh hastily.

“Yea, let me hop in the shower real quick”, I urged.

Keesh: “So thassa no..”

As I walked down the hallway, quickly stripping my clothes off layer by layer, I could hear Keesha already rummaging through the refrigerator, bottles clinging and all. I got out the shower and put my clothes on and then we headed for the mall.

When we arrived, Keesha dragged me to Love Culture. It was like being in a flea market mixed with Fashion Nova, mixed with a level three Rainbow. Basically, it wasn’t my style. I suppose my facial expression gave away my thoughts because as I was thumbing through the garments, Keesha grabbed my arm and said, “C’mon witcho bougie ass”, and lured me out of the store, bag in hand.

“I am not bougie”, I protested as I tried to hold back from laughing. “You know I’m allergic to polyester”.

She rolled her eyes and we found ourselves at the threshold of Victoria’s Secret. Now this was more of my speed. Lace teddies, satin robes, silk panties with the matching brassieres, babydolls, sheer French maid units, etc. Yes! I was home. Like most women, I enjoyed dressing up in my lingerie; it’s just that more recently I was finding fewer and fewer reasons to do so. I wasn’t exactly thrilled about buying lingerie for a party, but who was I to go against the dress code?

Keesha asked me what was my price range so that she could “help” me find something to wear and I mistakenly told her that I had an Angel’s Credit Card. I could see the emerald dollar signs illuminate in her eyes as her pupils dilated at the thought of having no spending limit. I knew I had fucked up. Several wardrobe changes later, I’d found my outfit for the evening. Either I actually liked what was selected for me, or I’d just given in and gotten tired of all the different materials and hypo-allergenic panty protectors rubbing my coochie the wrong way.

I parted ways with Keesh and planned to meet back up with her later on before the party. When I got back home, the house still smelled like the weed I had smoked earlier. I’d completely forgotten that I was high that day; that was one of the many effects that weed had on me. As I reached my room, hoping to duck off for an hour or two, Jordyn caught me in the hallway and started to tell me the story she told me every other week. Her nigga wasn’t acting right, blah, blah, blah.. And that’s not to say I didn’t care, because I did. Jordyn was my girl - we go back to St. Andrews Jr. High; but I had been hearing about this dusty nigga Robert for the past two years and was completely over it at this point.

Jordyn: “…yea girl so what you think?.. Hellooo? Riley!”, demanded Jordyn.

Everything she’d said since she got my attention fell on deaf ears.

“..Huh? Aw yea girl, fuck ‘em”, I managed to utter, pretending that I had been listening. That was a classic response and the closest and most general statement I could think to say, next to “that’s wild”. Everybody knows that when you say “that’s wild”, you’re not listening.

“Come out tonight with me and Keesh. We going to some pajama party on the north and Keesh knows the promoter so we not paying to get in”, I advertised.

Jordyn: “… I don’t know. I was probably gone stay in and catch up on my shows”, she reasoned.

“Really, Jordyn? Catch up on your shows? We can do that on Sunday after church like we always do. Go find something to wear! Victoria’s Secret is having a sale if you don’t have anything!”.

Jordyn: “Girl, I aint got no Victoria’s Secret money!”

“You’re right, Love Culture is more your speed”, I teased. We both laughed and she headed out for the mall and I to my room to take a nap. I was so exhausted and slipped into a mild kush coma.

I woke up, looked around for my phone, saw that it was 8:30pm, and went right back to sleep. I was trying to fight it, but the slumber was so satisfying - I couldn’t help but to submit to it.

Shortly after, I woke up again. A tickling sensation ventured up the side of my leg, past my knee, reaching my inner thigh, and finally halting at the folds in my skin most closest to my center. I could feel my warm hands getting lost in my creases. I slowly dilated my legs, allowing my hands to rest comfortably between them. I lie there, groping my breasts, pretending that my hands were his. I reached down and slid two fingers between my lips and wildly rotated them until I could feel the sensation of arousal. I slowed down to a carousel speed just as I was about to cum. I wanted to tease myself; at least that’s what I imagined Jake would do. I imagined he would pull my hair, so I grabbed myself by my thick wavy locks and tugged. I instantly got wetter. I inserted my longest digit while my index finger fondled my clit. I could feel myself about to arrive and although there was no one else in the room with me, I softly whispered, “I’m about to cum, I’m about to cum”. It grew to more than a whisper and before I knew it, my legs were cold from the soaked sheets. I rolled over onto my stomach and caught my breath.

I retrieved my panties from off my bedroom floor and headed for the bathroom to freshen up and get ready for this evenings festivities. No less than three minutes of me being in the bathroom, Jordyn bursts in all giggly and shit.

Jordyn: “Look what I found!”, she shrilled. It was a rose gold lace teddy with the heels to match.

“Oh my gosh, that’s bomb! Where’d you find that!?”, I questioned. She knew rose gold was one of my favorite colors, mostly because of how flattering it was on my sienna skin tone.

Jordyn: “..somewhere that’s more my speed",she sassed.

I pouted and negotiated a few unworn items in my closet, along with the lingerie that I’d bought earlier that day for her teddy. I was thrilled and actually couldn’t wait to go to the party. We finished getting ready and headed over to my Aunt Bernadine’s house to pick up Keesh.

Low and behold, once we’d gotten there, Keesha wasn’t ready. I opted to stay in the car and wait because I’ve found that when someone knows you’re outside with the car still running and you’re waiting on them, they tend to move a little faster. If you go in and wait, they think you have the time to spare or to get comfortable; two things that I did not have. Three songs later, my patience was thin and my nerves were few. Jordyn and I decided to go in and put some fire under Keesha’s ass. So much for my theory about waiting in the car.

Before we walked in, I had to give Jordyn the same rundown that I’d given her and anyone else that was not familiar with Aunt B’s house, before.

“Look, my Aunt Bernadine is nosey and outspoken and my Uncle Ray likes to act like he’s blind and pinch your ass and act like he was reaching for his cane. You ready? Let’s go.”

We walked up to the front porch and the boards under our feet creaked so loudly that there was no need to knock. I could hear Aunt B call out from behind the screen door,

“Keesha! Riley nem here. C’mon in y’all!”

As soon as we walked in, she started up.

Aunt B: “Hey Riley”, she said suspiciously. “How you been girl? Still workin’ for the man? ..puttin’ cigarettes in our black baby’s hands and liquor stores on our corners?”, she asked accusingly.

“Auntie B, that was ONE campaign, THREE years ago and there weren’t even any black people in the ad.”, I said defensively.

Aunt B: “Eggs-actly!”, she interrupted before I could even finish my sentence. “No blacks in the ad. As if that’s any better”.

Keesha appeared at the top of the stairs and yelled for us to come up. It was as if she could sense my agitation with her mother. As we were walking up the stairs, Aunt B yelled after us and said,

“Yo daddy still at home UNEMPLOYED while my sister going to work everyday?!”. It sounded more like a statement than a question. But I answered her anyway.

“He’s RETIRED Aunt B, not unemployed.” Man I couldn’t stand her hating ass.

We got to Keesha’s room and surprisingly, she was ready. Apparently, this entire time, she was waiting on the promoter to text her back about putting our names on the list. Personally, I didn’t like the sound of waiting on a promoter to put my name on a list but if I knew anything, I knew that Keesha was plugged, and more importantly; I knew how cheap my cousin was. She was not about to pay to get into a party.

Keesha opened the bottom drawer to her dresser and pulled out a fifth of 1800 Tequila. I cringed at the sight of it. I can’t remember a time that I’d drunk tequila and actually remembered the night before. It made me emotional and horny and those two things together can be deadly. I proceeded with caution. Two shots in and I decided that I didn’t want to be irresponsible that night and made a conscious decision to NOT get fucked up. Jordyn, being the responsible person that she was, offered to drive my car because she wasn’t drinking for whatever reason.

Keesha got the text confirming our free entry that we had been waiting on and we headed out. By this time, Aunt B and Uncle Ray were already in their room for the night so I didn’t have to worry about hearing any of her sideways remarks on our way out.

We pulled up to the spot. No, literally, the club was called, “The Spot”, and parked around back. I made sure Jordyn backed in because you never know if you’re going to have to make a quick getaway. ESPECIALLY on the north side!

When I stood up and got out the car, I felt myself get a little lightheaded. I began to add up the number of shots I’d taken that night in my head..two in Keesha’s room.. one on our way to the car.. well one and a half because Jordyn’s baby ass barely touched hers.. and one at the stoplight ‘cause my jam came on. Okay, so carry the one.. that’s about five. I’m good. I knew that it wouldn’t be wise to drink anymore that night so I asked Jordyn to make sure I didn’t get too lit.

We walked past the line and got right in. I could feel the jealousy radiating off the bystanders as they sized us up along the way. We were led to VIP by Keesha’s connect and to my surprise, the venue was actually decent. It wasn’t hot and muggy, but more importantly, even though everyone was half naked and dancing, it didn’t even smell like ass! I was impressed.

We sat down in an all white section and bottle service had already been delivered. Keesha poured three shots of VSOP Hennessy, one for each of us. I was reluctant to drink mine. There are two reasons why I was hesitant on taking this shot: 1. It would put me at six shots for the night, even though I didn’t even feel drunk. And 2. I had already been drinking light.

“Keesh, should we really be drinking dark? I mean, we’ve already been drinking tequila”, I yelled over the music.

She looked at me dead n the eyes and knocked her shot back. What a savage.

Keesha: “Thassa myth cuz. Now drink that shit”, she urged.

I obediently followed suit and drank. Keesh grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out onto the dance floor. I looked back at Jordyn, pleading with my eyes that she would save me; but she failed me and only smiled a devious smile that told me she knew exactly what kind of night we were in for… a “cousin Keesha” type of night. One of her reckless nights that my momma would usually call me gossiping about the next day.

We maneuvered our way though the crowd, unmarked hands grabbing at our asses and tugging at our silk robes as we slid by, and came to a standstill right in the middle of the party. Great. The middle of the crowd is the worst place to be, in my opinion. The DJ dropped a slow record and I nervously looked around as everyone around me was partnering up and grinding on one another. Including Keesha. She got snatched up quick. I could feel the wolves’ eyes on me as I helplessly looked for a way out. I was definitely feeling all six of those shots by now. Beads of sweat trickled down my back so I loosened my robe and let it drop to my waist, exposing my rose gold lingerie. I could almost immediately feel the difference in the room’s temperature.

I looked around and caught the gaze of this fine amber skinned man across the room. Unforgetful that I was half naked in a party, I imagined that this is what Diamond felt like that first night she danced at the Player’s Club.

The stranger made his way across the room, his eyes never breaking our mutual stare. We had an unspoken agreement that when he reached me, I’d give him a dance and possibly a little conversation. But as he got closer, there was something familiar about his strut.. and those broad shoulders. Oh shit! What the hell was he doing here? It was JAKE!

TBC

#RileyNem shortstory cashmierathoughts BGWB

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cashmierathoughts · 7 years

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Riley ‘Nem pt. 2

Riley got to work at 8:37 AM that morning; that's forty-two minutes later than when she typically arrives. All she could think of was her board meeting in front of the execs today. But it wasn't the board members in particular that had her shook, it was the fact that Jake was taking the lead on one of her accounts and she wanted nothing more but to impress him. Well, to be honest, she wanted nothing more than to throw everything off the table and mount Jake like the fine specimen that he was. Instead, she walked on what felt like a hardwood floor made of eggshells to her post at the front of boardroom and took her place as first presenter. Riley stared nervously around the room and counted the number of white people, it was her instinct to do so. She always counted the number of non-blacks in most situations but particularly in professional environments. It was her way of tracking how many possible like-minded individuals she’d be surrounded by; how many people were in her presence that also had to play a role, talk a little preppier, or smile a little bigger. It was also a way for her to gauge how far blacks and other non-whites had come in Corporate America.

Jake entered the room and took his seat at the head of the table.. oh how she wanted to take a seat on his firm--. But before she could conclude her thought, a shrubby man entered the room with a stack of papers almost blinding his sight and addressed the room.

“Thank you for joining us today”, said a frumpy man in a pin striped button down, partnered with high water slacks that appeared to be apart of his wardrobe since the 80′s. It was Dougleman. He was CFO of the company and a good family friend of Riley’s parents. To be frank, he was probably the only reason that Riley was considered for her role with the company in the first place. Blanc & White Co. was not exactly known for its diversity when she first started seven years ago. Riley is the youngest and the blackest junior partner at the firm to date. Dougleman finished his welcoming speech and proceeded to pass out the guides that mapped out the presentation to each board member. When Dougleman slumped his way to the head of the conference table to give Jake a guide, Jake declined and politely informed Dougleman that he’d already had his secretary print him a copy two days prior so that he could give it the “once over”.

I didn't know if this was best practice or just Jake’s personal preference, but whenever he took the lead on one of my accounts, he’d have his secretary contact mine so that he would have access to a copy of the guide days before. This meant that I didn't have any time to procrastinate. I had to have my shit together if I wanted to impress him.

“Good morning staff. As you all know, Blanc & White has been trailblazers in the marketing industry as far as appealing to both the minority and majority crowd for the last two decades...”, I started.

When I was finished with the presentation, Dougleman and the rest of the big wigs applauded both myself and the team. And as we were dismissing back to our seats, an extended black finger was raised in the air; it was accompanied by Jake’s strong, masculine black hand.

“Could you go over those numbers from last quarter again, please.”, he said in a requesting yet commanding tone.

As Tom, my co-worker and partner on the quarterly projections, went to stand up and go over the slides, Jake interrupted him and said,

“Thank you, Tom, but I was hoping Riley would brief us on this one”.

My heart instantly dropped into my panties. I mustered up enough vocal power to respond, “Of course I can.”

As I meandered to the podium, I could feel the heat from his eyes burning through my backside. I obediently did what was asked of me and quickly went through last quarter’s figures once more. Jake was scribbling madly on his pad as I was presenting. This made me both agitated and curiously nervous. I could not help but to wonder what he was writing. Was he even writing or was he pretending to take notes but was really drawing provocative doodles of me? Nah.. nine times of out ten he was probably really taking notes. Which left that 10% chance that he was doing something else.. While I was wonderstruck on the possibilities of Jake’s notations, I must have slipped into another one of my day dreams because when I came to, my gaze was met by twelve pairs of questioning eyes staring right back up at me. Tom gave me a puzzling and mocking look as if to say, “Nigga, what you on?” I quickly finished and scurried back to my seat. I was so embarrassed.

The meeting was adjourned and I gathered my things and headed back to my office. I closed the door to my 12x10 haven and kicked off my heels and caressed my feet into the canary shag carpet under my desk and plopped down in my chair. I checked my phone to see how many, if any, messages, DMs,or pokes that I'd gotten while in my meeting. Surprisingly, I had a DM on Twitter. Whomp, whomp. It was from my cousin Keesha; an invite to a pajama party this Saturday. I’ll pass!

As I was closing out my browser, I got a ping on my desktop. It was from Jake! It read, “Good job today during the presentation. If you would like any assistance on the next one, let me know and we can get together.” I shrilled with joy! My assistant rushed in to see what was going on and I hastily sent her away and proceeded to gush over the simple, yet telling instant message. I read it aloud to myself,

“Good job today during the presentation. If you would like any assistance on the next one, let me know and we can get together...we can get together..”, I softly repeated to myself.

“BIIITTCCHHH! WE CAN GET TOGETHER!”, I screeched and dry humped the air to each syllable,”we can get to-geth-er”. In the midst of my final thrust, Amy poked her head in to see what was wrong, and for the second and final time, I politely asked her to find something to do. Great, now she knows I'm crazy. But I was feeling too good about myself to worry about what she thought. Without thinking, I hopped on Twitter to DM my cousin Keesha back and let her know that I was in that thang with her this weekend. Despite my hysteria, the message read, “Yes, Keesha, I would love to attend the PJ Soiree with you this weekend..”.

Riley ‘Nem pt 2.5 “Saturday Night” Coming Soon.

#RileyNem CashmieraThoughts BGWB ShortStory

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