statements about love. People are just gonna have to leave me alone. But if these muthafuckas push me, the occasional crack on the likes of Bill Maher dating the video vixen or David Bowie and Iman will fall from my lips. And if I have to I’ll throw Shala Monrogue’s name down liked a gauntlet. Nobody gives her shit and her man couldn’t be whiter if he tried.”
Cleo laughed and gave her the thumbs up. Andrea continued to scowl.
“They ain’t gon’ make me believe I’m this fuckin’ special. This is not that unusual. It’s more likely some folks think I’m having too much fun. Enjoying too much love and not enough struggle. Don’t make me start thinkin’ deep now!” Fiona said righteously, looking up when Netty knocked.
“It’s Daney.” She held out the phone. “He soun ds mad.”
That was an understatement.
“Did you fuckin’ read that bull shit from Peter Goldberg? The little prick. And I fuckin’ know the guy! Every asshole in the world has called me today to ask about that crap blog. I’m about to put my fuckin’ fist through the wall!”
“Shhh,” Fiona soothed , holding back her laughter. “Don’t do that. You need that fist to stay pretty so you can get the money. I was gon’ write a letter for my web site to try and allay some of this. I was planning to refer to you as obliquely as possible.”
“I don’t give a shit! You can call me your future husband if you want to. I can’t believe this, man. I date other people, it gets a mention. I hook up with you, and we’re a hotter topic than President Obama winning the Nobel peace prize.” He huffed indignantly. “Wait. You said you were planning to. You didn’t?”
“Nope. Instead I s hall maintain a stoic reserve.”
“While I’m flying off the handle and topping off beer number three at my boy’s house. I miss you.”
Fiona grinned; she could practically see him pouting. “I gotta make a run to pick up shit for the party. Am I gonna see you tonight?”
“I ca n come through in a few hours.”
“Let me come to you. I don’t feel like looking in Buck’s face. I just need to sober up before I get behind the wheel and kill my damn self.”
“Don’t do that,” Fiona laughed. She’d never heard him so upset. He even sounded drunk, and Daney rarely drank. One beer was a stretch. He disliked anything that smacked of being out of control, unless it was happening between his or her legs. Then it was all hands on deck! “What would I do?”
He chuckled. “Be my bab y.”
“I am.”
“Bye.”
“Peace.”
******
Fiona was chuckling so energ etically Netty rolled her eyes.
“Who wa s that? Daney or your new boy?”
“Stop referring to my new costar as my new boy. That personal a designation would seem to imply more feeling than is actuall y present.”
Netty snorted , as she did every time Fiona did one of her online elocution lessons. “You didn’t answer the question.”
“It was Daney, bitch. Damn. You ain’t gon’ believe what this muthafucka tryna make me believe. He say he ain ’t never been to a strip club.”
Netty roll ed her eyes again. “Bull shit.”
Fiona didn’t believe it either. There was no way on earth a man who looked like Daney, who was as well liked as Daney and had as much money as Daney had never been to one of the pleasure palaces that men visited with dutiful regularity.
“You mean to tell me, ne ver?” She demanded. She pounced on him the minute she was in the house and behind her closed bedroom door where he’d been waiting, sans clothes, God bless him.
Daney shook his head and looked uncomfortable. He’d been stroking an impressive erection when she walked in, but now he let it go a little guiltily. “I don’t like the idea of all those women like, forced to strip for money. Never have. It smacks of a slave farm or something,” he snorted. “Even if the horn balls paying are the slaves. I think sex should be a one on one, intimate, very much behind
Cleo laughed and gave her the thumbs up. Andrea continued to scowl.
“They ain’t gon’ make me believe I’m this fuckin’ special. This is not that unusual. It’s more likely some folks think I’m having too much fun. Enjoying too much love and not enough struggle. Don’t make me start thinkin’ deep now!” Fiona said righteously, looking up when Netty knocked.
“It’s Daney.” She held out the phone. “He soun ds mad.”
That was an understatement.
“Did you fuckin’ read that bull shit from Peter Goldberg? The little prick. And I fuckin’ know the guy! Every asshole in the world has called me today to ask about that crap blog. I’m about to put my fuckin’ fist through the wall!”
“Shhh,” Fiona soothed , holding back her laughter. “Don’t do that. You need that fist to stay pretty so you can get the money. I was gon’ write a letter for my web site to try and allay some of this. I was planning to refer to you as obliquely as possible.”
“I don’t give a shit! You can call me your future husband if you want to. I can’t believe this, man. I date other people, it gets a mention. I hook up with you, and we’re a hotter topic than President Obama winning the Nobel peace prize.” He huffed indignantly. “Wait. You said you were planning to. You didn’t?”
“Nope. Instead I s hall maintain a stoic reserve.”
“While I’m flying off the handle and topping off beer number three at my boy’s house. I miss you.”
Fiona grinned; she could practically see him pouting. “I gotta make a run to pick up shit for the party. Am I gonna see you tonight?”
“I ca n come through in a few hours.”
“Let me come to you. I don’t feel like looking in Buck’s face. I just need to sober up before I get behind the wheel and kill my damn self.”
“Don’t do that,” Fiona laughed. She’d never heard him so upset. He even sounded drunk, and Daney rarely drank. One beer was a stretch. He disliked anything that smacked of being out of control, unless it was happening between his or her legs. Then it was all hands on deck! “What would I do?”
He chuckled. “Be my bab y.”
“I am.”
“Bye.”
“Peace.”
******
Fiona was chuckling so energ etically Netty rolled her eyes.
“Who wa s that? Daney or your new boy?”
“Stop referring to my new costar as my new boy. That personal a designation would seem to imply more feeling than is actuall y present.”
Netty snorted , as she did every time Fiona did one of her online elocution lessons. “You didn’t answer the question.”
“It was Daney, bitch. Damn. You ain’t gon’ believe what this muthafucka tryna make me believe. He say he ain ’t never been to a strip club.”
Netty roll ed her eyes again. “Bull shit.”
Fiona didn’t believe it either. There was no way on earth a man who looked like Daney, who was as well liked as Daney and had as much money as Daney had never been to one of the pleasure palaces that men visited with dutiful regularity.
“You mean to tell me, ne ver?” She demanded. She pounced on him the minute she was in the house and behind her closed bedroom door where he’d been waiting, sans clothes, God bless him.
Daney shook his head and looked uncomfortable. He’d been stroking an impressive erection when she walked in, but now he let it go a little guiltily. “I don’t like the idea of all those women like, forced to strip for money. Never have. It smacks of a slave farm or something,” he snorted. “Even if the horn balls paying are the slaves. I think sex should be a one on one, intimate, very much behind
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