The Lessons We Learn (FWB Book 2) Page 2

  “I did. I mean, it’s not like you have a reason not to go,” she insisted, some truth to her words since it wasn’t like I had any plans for the evening other than wrecking shop on the latest bouquet from Jason and accepting the challenge from myself to make it to the bottom of my carton of ice cream.

  But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try and pull every excuse in the book, telling Mila, “I have plenty of reasons not to go. I’m tired. I don’t really like people, especially men, right now. And… I don’t have anything to wear.”

  She sucked her teeth, rolling her eyes at me before she said, “That shit might fly with your new friends, but I know you well enough to call bullshit, Jay. And besides, you never know who you might meet. This could be a life or dick situation.”

  “Life or… what are you even talking about, Mila?” I asked with a laugh, carrying the phone with me down the hall towards my bedroom.

  The second I crossed the threshold of the door, Mila shouted, “You need some dick, damnit! Big dick, long dick, curved dick, strong dick, right dick, wrong…”

  My squeal cut her off. “Oh my God! Will you please stop with this Dr. Seuss of dicks?!”

  Clearly pleased with herself, she gave a little laugh of her own while replying, “I’m just sayin’. Nothin’ like some good dick to change your sour ass mood.”

  “My mood isn’t even sour though. I mean, this is like… normal me,” I insisted, knowing it was a stretch since I wasn’t really sure what “normal me” even was anymore. There were just so many changes happening at once, so much reflecting, so much… learning and unlearning.

  But none of that seemed to matter to Mila anyway, her only focus being on dick when she said, “Well it sounds to me like you should’ve been filing for divorce a lot sooner since Jason obviously wasn’t hittin’ it right.”

  “Anyway. I’m gonna go to the party, but not for... Dr. Seuss dicks. Just for fun,” I told her, carrying her with me to the closet so I could put the fashion degree she only used on herself to use. It was truly a shame that she could be so talented yet so unmotivated. But once again, when I found myself getting ready to go on a rant, she found a way to cut me off.

  “Sure thing, sissy. But if the opportunity presents itself, you better not turn it down. Now pull that black skirt for me.”

  I rolled my eyes at her advice while also pulling out the only black skirt in view. “This one? This isn’t even party attire,” I said, glaring at it as I tried to figure out how she could possibly transform it into tonight’s look.

  She was masterful at turning nothing into something, so I wasn’t planning on questioning her expertise until she replied, “I know. But it’s ugly as fuck and belongs in the trash.”

  “Mila! This is one of my favorite work skirts,” I whined, feeling extra defensive since I had just picked it up from the cleaners earlier today.

  But leave it to my sister to hold nothing back, her nose wrinkled as she said, “Well for you to be all about other people’s brands, you must not give a damn about your own wearing something that hideous.”

  Hanging it back on the rack where it came from instead of tossing it like she insisted, I muttered, “You’re such a bitch.”

  “Correction. I’m thee bitch who’s gonna have some fine ass nigga trippin’ over his feet to come holla at you at this party. Now let’s get you dressed so you can find some di… fun tonight.”

  Khalid

  I was officially in my bag.

  My work shit was on point with the raise and benefits to show for it, a fresh retwist and a few gifts to self had my swag on a thousand, and after a few weeks of watching Mrs. Antho… Jayla, I had finally worked up the courage to share real words with her; words that had talked her right into coming to Londyn’s party the same way I usually talked girls right out of their panties.

  Yeah, ya boy was really feelin’ himself.

  Even the playlist I had curated specifically for my best friend’s birthday was setting the perfect tone for what was sure to be an eventful night. At least, I hoped it would be an eventful night now that I knew Jayla was really planning on coming.

  To be honest, it was taking everything for me not to constantly watch the door for her arrival, finally ready to shoot my shot now that I was really getting my shit together and had a slightly better understanding of her situation. And as if Londyn could read my mind, she asked, “So… are you gonna break the ice tonight, or what? I mean, I know you already got me a birthday gift, but seeing you make a move on Jayla would be just as gratifying as that Gucci scarf. And it doesn’t even cost you anything!”

  Any other night, the question would’ve annoyed the hell out of me since we both knew the answer. But tonight, I had a little more to say on the subject, taking a hearty sip of my drink before I started, “Actually…”

  I didn’t even get to finish my response when Chance cut me off, wrapping his arm around Londyn’s shoulder to scold, “Baby, what I tell you ‘bout that? Let that man handle his business on his own time.”

  While I wanted to thank him the same way I always had in the past when it came to him taking up for me in this particular situation, I also knew there was more to the story after my little run-in with Jayla at the store; an interaction I was getting ready to share until Londyn defended, “I’m just sayin’. We’re not getting any younger, as proven by the fact that this is literally a celebration of me getting old as hell.”

  My eyebrows furrowed, her explanation not as seamless as she thought since…, “You just stopped hiding this nigga from everybody like two seconds ago, and now you already on my neck about settling down? Fuck outta here, LoLo.”

  Her side-eye of a reaction only made me laugh as I asked, “Y’all need anything to drink?”

  Londyn’s face remained pulled into a scowl, only making her boyfriend squeeze her even tighter when he answered for the both of them, “Nah, we’re good, bruh. ‘Preciate it, though.” And while I was still getting used to seeing the two of them together, the way they were suddenly boo’d the fuck up made it easy for me to excuse myself with no plans of returning anytime soon, taking a peek at the front door on my way to the kitchen just in case I had missed Mrs. Anthony’s grand entrance.

  I hadn’t.

  Damn.

  The anticipation was killing me, but I didn’t want to go the usual route of drinking to pass the time, something that was guaranteed to render me useless by the time she did show up. So instead, I made myself busy straightening up the alcohol supply, Miss. Annie’s selections being the perfect mix of sophisticated and ratchet as hell with everything from Rosé champagne to Mad Dog.

  “Who the fuck is still drinking this shit?” I asked loud enough for only me to hear, holding the bottle of MD 20/20 in the air before taking a nasty sniff from the top. And just as I was getting ready to put it back down on the counter, someone behind me snatched it from my hand.

  “You don’t know nothin’ ‘bout that, Young Blood,” Mr. Langston said, his presence alone enough to straighten me up since… the man was intimidating as hell.

  Even in his version of nicer clothes - an oversized flannel short-sleeve, baggy jeans, and Nike Cortez’s - his whole vibe just dared you to try him. And while I believed Londyn when she said her father was cool peoples, I wasn’t about to test that shit out, giving him a simple nod instead when I finally pushed out, “You right.”

  Once again, I tried to make it seem like I was busy, mainly so I wouldn’t have to share any more words with Mr. Langston. But instead of just pouring his drink and going back to wherever he had come from, he sized me up the same way he had done a few days back when Londyn and I ran into him at lunch.

  “So your LoLo’s little friend, right?”

  “Here we go with this shit…” I thought, releasing a heavy sigh since it wasn’t the first and surely wouldn’t be the last time I got the question. And it wasn’t like I was naive about the shit, meaning I completely understood how unconventional it was for two attractive people of the op
posite sex to be as close as Londyn and I were without fuckin’ around. But it was our truth, and it had been for the last few years, something I would never shy away from since it was a friendship I valued more than anything. And if that meant standing up to her former jailbird daddy about it...

  “Yeah. I mean, no. We’re friends, yeah. But I’m not her “little” friend. That’d be Chance,” I explained, getting ready to point Chance out to him in the crowd just so I could take the spotlight off myself.

  With a nod and a sip of his drink, he put two-and-two together. “Ellen’s boy. Right. What do you think of him? Is he good for my baby girl?”

  “Uhh… yeah. Chance is cool,” I rushed out, quickly deciding I was going to need a drink of my own to survive this interaction.

  “Just sip slowly, bruh,” was what I told myself as I put together a mix of Hennessy and pineapple juice. But when I brought the cup to my lips for a swig, ready to take on whatever else Mr. Langston was going to throw my way, I caught a glimpse of Jayla walking through the door, the sight of her damn near making me choke on my drink.

  Nah, I really did start choking.

  In fact, Mr. Langston called himself trying to help me out, using his heavy ass hand to slap the fuck out of my back when he said, “Loosen up, Young Blood!”

  My eyes started to water as I tried to hold the next cough in, not wanting to draw too much attention to myself even though I doubted anyone was really paying attention to us anyway. But just because no one noticed us didn’t mean Mr. Langston didn’t notice the person who had caused me to choke in the first place, his usual stoic expression turning into more of a grin as he stopped patting my back to say, “Ohhh. So that’s who’s got you swallowing your damn tongue, huh? She’s got nothin’ on my Annie, but I get it. Looks like a handful.”

  Jayla was looking like a lot more than a handful, the flats from earlier replaced with thigh high boots, her blouse and jeans exchanged for a black off-the-shoulder dress that fit her in all the right places, and the baseball cap traded for long, flowy curls that fell perfectly against her mocha brown skin.

  She wasn’t playing fair.

  After a more successful sip of my drink, I finally told him, “We’re just friends.”

  Calling her a friend felt like a stretch since we hadn’t interacted as much as that implied and I damn sure didn’t want to be just her friend. But that generic title was as much as Mr. Langston needed to know, though that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to challenge it when he replied, “Nah, y’all can’t be just friends. Because the way you said it right now is not the same way you said it about my baby girl. This is somethin’ different.”

  “Niggas read a few books in jail and suddenly think they know it all...” I muttered more to myself than him, taking another sip as I watched Jayla look around the crowd for a familiar face. But it was quickly decided that that familiar face was going to be me once I heard Mr. Langston growl, “What did you just…” prompting me to leave him in the kitchen as I rushed out, “Nice talkin’ to you, big homie!” before heading Jayla’s way.

  I did my best to duck through the crowd, peeking over my shoulder a few times to make sure he hadn’t followed me. And I was glad to find him still posted up in the kitchen with his drink and his scowl, bringing me the relief I needed to take on the woman who usually left me tongue-tied.

  Not tonight, though.

  Tonight would be different. At least that’s what I told myself as I gave her a little wave to get her attention before pulling her into a mostly-innocent hug.

  My hands may or may not have gone a little low.

  “Jayla, hey. You made it.”

  The smile on her face when she pulled away gave me moths - cause real niggas don’t get butterflies - making me smile too as she replied, “And you actually called me Jayla.”

  “I’m sorry. Mrs…”

  She quickly held up her hands to cut me off. “No, it was perfect. Remember?”

  Thinking back to our conversation from the store earlier, I gave her a short nod of acknowledgment, lifting my glass to ask, “Can I… get you something to drink?”

  “I’m fine for now,” she answered, taking her attention back to the crowd that had seemingly doubled in size since I first arrived. “This is… not what I expected. In a good way.”

  “Told you, Miss. Annie throws the best parties,” I replied, catching the low murmurs of people beginning to cheer, “Go, Annie!” from across the room meaning she was surely up to no good. And once I glanced towards where the chants were coming from and saw Londyn also heading in that direction, I extended my hand to Jayla. “Come on. Let’s go check it out.”

  She didn’t argue against it, just slipped her warm hand right into mine and let me lead the way through the crowd until we found the source of the noise - Miss. Annie breaking Mr. Langston off on the makeshift dance floor.

  “Damn, how’d he get all the way over here without me seeing him?” was my first thought, something I kept to myself as Jayla said, “Wait a minute. I’m pretty sure I saw this woman in a video on Facebook. No, maybe it was Twitter? Either way, they’re adorable!”

  I was quick to combat, “Ain’t nothin’ adorable about that buff ass nig…” catching myself once I realized Jayla would have no idea what I was talking about.

  “I mean…. yeah, they’re dope,” I covered with as the impromptu dance circle fizzled out and the music changed to something a little slower; the timing so perfect you would’ve thought I made the playlist myself.

  Oh, wait...

  Finishing off my glass with a thick swallow, I sat it to the side and asked, “You wanna dance?”

  “Dancing isn’t really my strong suit. I prefer to watch,” she replied almost shyly, the last thing I expected from the woman who exuded confidence every time she stepped into the building. And it wasn’t only her confidence inside of the building, but also the memories of the first time I saw her outside of it; the sight of her letting her hair down that had made me crazy about her in the first place.

  I was sure to mention it once I told her, “Nah, I’ve seen you in action before. Hair swingin’ all over the place, hips rollin’, ass boun…”

  Before I could finish, she cut me off, her expression a little panicky as she squealed, “When was this?!”

  “Some weeks back. You were out with your girls.”

  It was the same night Londyn hadn’t let me forget since I had shown up to her place afterward drunk as hell, and had accidentally interrupted her time with Chance. But I could tell when the memory finally came back to Jayla, her panicked expression falling flat as she pushed out, “Oh my God. That… is a night I still can’t remember.”

  With a shrug, I insisted, “No sweat. We all have them.”

  “Of course you have them. You’re still young. But someone like me is way too old for that shit; as proven by the days I spent recovering afterward,” she replied, making me smirk just as the song changed to, Permission by Ro James, not really giving me a chance to challenge her on the whole age thing since getting her to vibe out with me was much more important.

  “This is my shit, though. You really gonna leave me hangin’?” I asked, extending my hand to her the same way I had done earlier. But this time, instead of taking it right away, she made me sweat a little bit, her smirk eventually matching mine as she slipped a little closer to accept my invitation. And with my hands at her waist and her hands resting against my shoulders, we found an easy groove; my night officially made when I told her, “I’m feelin’ this dress on you.”

  “Well my bad bitch break got cut short thanks to you. So if you see me with sweatpants on in the middle of the week, you’ll know why,” she replied with a little giggle, making me laugh too since I knew good and damn well that wasn’t happening.

  Not that Jayla didn’t ever dress down. I mean, she had already proven she was capable with the little outfit she had on at the store earlier. But I highly doubted she’d actually show up to work looking like that.


  Unless she’s not talking about seeing each other at work...

  With that in my head, I tightened my grip on her waist just slightly, gnawing on my lip when I said, “Balance, right? And besides, I wouldn’t mind seeing you in sweatpants. Or anything less, for that matter.”

  It was my first shot attempt, and it felt like a score once I saw the way she immediately blushed in response. But then she went still in my hold, and I worried I had gone too far, getting ready to reel it in a little until she said, “On second thought, I think I will take that drink.”

  “Yeah? What you got a taste for? Miss. Annie has just about anything you can think of.”

  Instead of putting in her order with me, she suggested, “How about I just come with you? So I can see the options for myself.”

  Her request was innocent enough, but I took it a little personal, mainly because her joining me meant she actually cared to keep me around. And with that, my ego meter shot up a few points as I grabbed her hand and led her through the crowd towards the kitchen, our journey coming to a sudden halt when we ran right into the guest of honor.

  I could tell Londyn was really on one by the way she sang, “Jaaaaayla! Look at youuuu! How are you gonna out-bad bitch me at my own damn party?”

  Jayla’s head snapped back when she challenged, “Girl, what? Are you kidding me? You look amazing! I’m just over here taking up space and taking down notes.”

  While I didn’t totally agree since Jayla was definitely killin’ shit, I didn’t get a chance to give any input, Chance pulling me to the side to ask, “Yo, can you help me get this one to the car? As you can see, she’s had more than enough to drink.”

  Any other time, it wouldn’t have even been a question since making sure Londyn was good was always high on the priority list. But this particular time, I could only sigh when I whispered, “Come on, bruh. I know you see I got somethin’ very important on my hands right now.”

  “I know, I know. But it’ll be quick, I promise,” he reasoned, only making me huff again since I knew it wasn’t really up to him if it would be quick or not.