BEST FRIEND LIKE DEEDAH
"I'm not buying any sweets honey!" Deedah McKenna yells from her kitchen. Those kids are at it again. Deedah always warns them not to stop at her apartment door with a bucket of expired sweets and awfully packaged chocolates. It isn't a surprise that the kids make the chocolates themselves.
The person knocks again and Deedah groans before stomping to the door and yanking it open.
"LOOK— Charlie? What are you-" She finally notices Charlie's swollen red eyes, "Oh, hell no!" She immediately pulls her best friend into her bachelorette apparent. It was actually ironic how Deedah owns a bachelorette apartment when she's two years into her marriage.
Black women's independence can not be measured.
"I'm fine Dee," The thirteenth lie Charlie has muttered this month.
If she is anything right now it's definitely not fine. Angry, yes. But not fine.
"Bitch, Imma slap the truth outta you," Deedah snaps as she pulls her best friend into a tight hug.
This gesture seems to unlock her dam and streaks of tears fell at a fast rate. Disoriented sobs escapes her as she clutches the purple blouse that her best friend had on.
Deedah's stomach is fluffy and soft under Charlie's cheek. It is unlike Mario's hard rock abs that flexed wantonly under her thighs or torso.
Charlie shakes her head as the wails pour louder. She feels so helpless and used. She knows this wouldn't have hurt much if she'd just followed Dee's advice to ditch Mario a long time ago. Charlie just took it as one of Dee's bluff. It's Deedah. She doesn't like any man for her Char-poo.
Deedah grimaces as she pats her girlfriend on her back. She's seated on her expensive leather couch while Charlie laid sprawled on the floor with her head on the former's lap.
"It's okay, baby. Mario is a dead asshole, I know." Dee coos at her best friend.
Deedah already knows this would happen. Honestly, she expected this more sooner than later. She'd known the moment she set her feet in that restaurant that Mario was a slimy womanizer.
It was the first month Charlie had met Mario and the former had invited Dee for the usual break-my-best-friend's-heart-and-I'll-skin-your-balls talk. Dee immediately noticed how Mario's eyes sampled the tacky waitress' boobs as she served them their tequila.
Even with that, word has been going round that Mario's been dealing with some mafia shit.
Deedah doesn't even know whether to feel sad or happy that she left that dog in the expense of her happiness.
Charlie's sobs has now mellowed down to soft sniffles and occasional whines. Her head aches and her throat feels sore and scratchy.
She raises her head from Dee's lap—which was now numb—and her eyes catch a wink of the customized wall clock beside the mini bar, 3:15pm.
Her schedule has totally been scattered. This almost brings tears back to her eyes but she wills herself not to let them drop. She can't possibly waste her tears on just Mario.
She has to reserve some for next time and other heartbreaks.
"Char, you okay now?"
Charlie winces as she sits beside Dee. She nods and leans her head on the head of the couch.
"Good, 'cos I've been waiting for you to finish crying so we can discuss what position we're gonna bury his fucking body!"
Charlie chuckles. She raises her head and sits straight, "We're not going to kill or bury Mario, Dee."
"Who you be fronting for?" Dee gives her a nasty look, "I know deep down you wanna freeze his balls and peel off his skin from his skeleton,"
"No. No. Deedah, we're not doing any of that. I just want to sleep, I'm so tired."
"You can sleep..." Charlie gives an appreciative nod, "...after we plan Mario's death."
Charlie groans. Her eye-roll follows suit. She stands up and walks to the wide modern kitchen where she pours herself a cup of apple juice. She would have drank it directly from the jug but she knows how nasty Dee thinks that is and she is in no mood for annoying anyone.
Knowing she won't get out of this, Charlie decides to feed into Dee's crazy fantasy, "Okay, what do you have in mind?"
Deedah whoops as she flies off the couch. She runs and perches herself on the kitchen counter so that she's leaning directly opposite Charlie.
"Ha! Okay, first..." Deedah puts on a serious face.
"Acid," she says later on.
This has apple juice spraying out of Charlie's mouth back into the cup and on the counter.
"Acid? Are you insane?!"
"What? It's just acid," Dee rolls her eyes dramatically, "Okay, what about injecting nitric acid into his nasty asshole? That shit's gonna hit good."
Charlie looks at her best friend in bewilderment. She's been living with a potential psycho for the better part of her life.
"Oh? Not good? Okay, how about mixing itching powder and weed with his cereal and dumping his body in front of the White House, I'm sure paparazzi would wanna see nasty shit like that."
"How are you even going to get to the White House?"
"I know a guy."
Charlie shakes her head with a shadow smile. Deedah made her temporarily forget at Mario for sometime; more reason why Charlie can't trade Dee for anything in the whole world.
Deedah stares at her best friend, "Baby, come here," she opens her arms wide enough for Charlie to come barrelling in.
"Do you know what you need now?"
"A bag of sour patch kids?"
"Nah! Whatcha need now, girlfriend, is a 14-inch rod deep-dicking you to hell and back!" Deedah replies with a smug smile.
You'd think being best friends with Deedah for five years would make Charlie get used to Deedah's filter—or lack of.
Charlie gasps before she slaps Dee's arm. "Dee, you can't be saying vulgar words like that... Sambi is in the room," she points at the black tabby cat that lounged lazily on the cat bed along the foyer.
Deedah waves her hand dismissively. She plants a firm kiss on her best friend's forehead before they both settling in her master's bedroom where they cuddled and sulked.
THE MAN OUTSIDE MY DOOR"Greta, dear? Is that you?" A frail voice queries as Charlie passes by an old looking bungalow.It's Mama Freya; the 72-year old Canadian woman who lived just beside Char's apartment. The old lady had a case of Alzheimer's disease and mild diabetes.Charlie smiles sadly, "No, Mama Freya. It's me, Charlie."Mama Freya pauses in her chair rocking and smiles brightly, "That's what I said!"Charlie shakes her head with a giggle. She walks over to the shaky woman and kisses her pasty forehead. Shue grins as Mama Freya coos sluggishly at Charlie."I think you look beautiful this morning!"Apart from chicken broth, the only thing that can hit home, for Mama Freya, is compliments. This'll make her gush like a teenager and reminisce on the good ol' days.Surely, Charlie does not want to sit around and l
CUTE PANDA BEAR"H...hello?"Charlie finally summons the courage to speak after staring at the man for two solid minutes. Charlie wonders how she hasn't pooped her pants from standing in the same presence with a mountain man.She mentally kicks herself for not grabbing the baseball bat behind her bedroom door or the bow and arrow underneath her kitchen cabinet... Or the pepper spray on her kitchen window sill."Um... What? What are you doing in my ba...backyard?" Stammers Charlie.The bulky man takes a step forward so that the tip of his leather boots is hitting the lintel of the patio door.Charlie takes two steps back; one isn't foolproof. She clutches, tightly, the hem of her pyjama shirt. Suddenly, she feels like crying.Is this it?Is this how she'll die?She hasn't even edited her 20th book!
AUTHOR'S NOTEI would have put this author's note at the end of the Chapter but to avoid unnecessary corrections and critics, I decided to put it here. PLEASE NOTE the male protagonist begins to speak in this chapter and his pattern of speaking is... Unique. This is deliberate. The reason for this will be disclosed in the next chapters.UNCONSCIOUSLY PROTECTIVEThe next day, first thing in the morning, Charlie runs to the living room to check if the panda bear is still here.An unconscious smile appears on her face. The man has his knees curled against his chest in a fetal position. His fingers are in fists and are tucked under his chin. A bouncing baby boy; that's what he looks like.Charlie runs back up to her room to do the needful. She puts her hair into a very loose bun. Her chest is covered with a blue long-sleeved shirt and black bottom shorts.As she runs down the stairs, she dials the
BLU AND FRIENDS"Skimpiness will take you no where, Greta!"That's the first thing Charlie hears when she walks out to her mini vegetable garden.Mama Freya has her frail walking stick poking around the exposed skin on Nora's body. Her butt is on the edge of her rocking chair and her eyes as wide as she yells words of wisdom at the uncomfortable girl."Stop pointing this thing at me, old lady!" Nora swats the walking stick, "and I'm not Greta!"Mama Freya gasps, "What are you doing on my lawn?!" She shrieks loudly, almost rocking herself off the chair. Charlie sees this as an invitation to save both women; one from having a broken neck."Wha— What?!" Nora throws her free hand in abandon, "Your box of peppers appeared on my doorstep! Again!" The college girl slams the cardboard box full of peppers on the patio table."Peppers?""Yes! Yes, pe— okay,"
BABYSITTING CHARLES"Charlie honey? Are you still there?" Mrs. Pulgo's motherly voice keeps bringing her out of her dazed state.Red coats Charlie's cheeks as she feigns a cough. Her eyes immediately shut in embarrassment. She doesn't know which one was more embarrassing; Her full-on stare or Blurin shooting her a concerned look.She flashes him her signature wobbly smile before running up to her room to avoid embarrassing herself any further."I'm sorry, Mrs. Pulgo! My mind is just still sleepy, I guess?" She giggles it off.Mrs. Pulgo hums from her side of the call, "Okay dear, then this news will favor you,""What news? He isn't coming today?" Charlie asks."Oh no! He is. He's just going to come in a little late. He's coming from Peter's today," The woman sighs.Charlie's eyebrows shoot up in assimilation, 'No wonder she sounds so depressed on th
NASTY GREEN STUFFRoughly a week later, another man dropped by Charlie's apartment. She could swear that after her break-up with Mario, she became a guy-magnet.The guy at the door identified himself as Tristan. Tristan Denvard, Blurin's psychologist.Charlie was stunned when she saw him. Though she wouldn't admit, he looks so much like a piece of garnished bacon. His brown hair was slicked back in a professional fashion and he wore a casual outfit. His eyes were small and calculating and his smile was necessary and clipped.Surely, Charlie had stuttered a little before she got the hang of actually communicating with him without embarrassing herself.Charlie had almost called Deedah out of panic to ask for advice on how to be not so... Stupid. She is still clutching her phone as she ushers Tristan in.He drops his overnight bag close to the door. He nods poli
FACTS ABOUT BLUTristan wakes up with an uncomfortable feeling. His head throbs slightly and his back is killing him! He didn't sleep all night. He's pretty sure no one in the room slept at all. He remembers glancing at the bedside clock and the 3:43 am flashing brightly.His eyes drifts to Blurin who runs a small comb across his hair. The bulking man wore a navy blue long-sleeved shirt with loose joggers.Tristan bites his lip. He glances at his soaked shirt and puffs out a sigh."I brought your work laptop,""Gracias." (Thank you.) Blurin glances at him briefly before dropping the comb.Blurin turns and walks to the door before Tristan's voice stops him, "Where are you going?""Tengo que ir a cortar el césped y vestir las camas de verduras antes de que se despierte." (I have to go mow the lawn and dress the veggie beds before she wakes up.) He doesn't wait for Tri
TELLING DEEDAHFour hours of punching keys and highlighting sentences later, Charlie is bored.It's not like her life has been a bed of eventful events before. Heck, she just got dumped two weeks ago!After mowing the lawn, dressing the veggie beds and eating a 'green-free' breakfast, Blurin heads upstairs to his room. Situations like this makes Charlie rethink her decision of giving the stranger is own room. Not because she's against it, but because of how bored she feels right now.If it was the time he was still occupying her couch, she would have basked in the sounds of him flipping to the next page or him hitting his fingers unrhythmically against the hard back of most of the Paranormal books she owns.Sighing, Charlie picks up her phone."Hey, Char-poo!" Dee's 'overly' high-pitched voice squeals through her speaker."Dee