Sixty-Nine Page 2

  During that year, one of them would end up pregnant.

  And would have an abortion.

  Yet her BFF’s would never know about it.

  Or maybe they would.

  And the father was either Rebe’s man, Trent, who’d die from a drug overdose four years later; Darla’s man, Aaron, who’d have a fatal heart attack in 2004; or Magnolia’s ex, Gabe, who ended up marrying a well-known porn actress in Hollywood.

  One of them was the father of an innocent baby that never ever had a chance at this thing called life.

  A life that has a funny way of paying people back.

  Payback that in an instant would flip these best friends’ worlds from a six to a nine by the time they were forty, coming to a literal head all in the name of sex.

  One

  “A Sexier Side of Me”

  Girlfriends

  INT.—LIV NIGHTCLUB INSIDE THE FONTAINEBLEAU HOTEL—LATE EVENING

  December 31, 2008

  It had been the coldest winter in ten years in Miami, though the temperatures were on a slight upswing lately. The sharp, beachfront chill that lingered in the Florida air on the outside was still no match for the three hot girlfriends who’d checked their coats, sporting their sexy, skimpy evening wear for a celebration of out with the old and in with the new, like no other year of their lives. It was a recognition of necessary crossroads.

  Divorcée Rebe Palo-Richardson said, with a millisecond smirk on her chocolate face, the face she got from her mother, “Girl, on my wedding night with Randall, I started my damn period. That should’ve been a definite warning sign that my marriage would not last through the ebb and flow, so to speak, of holy matrimony.” Her micro-braided head rolled toward the two best friends she’d known since high school. She tried to speak at a level just above the blaring celebratory music in the background.

  She sat on the contemporary purple leather stool at the fully packed bar with her long, bare legs crossed like a prima ballerina. Her stately gams, formed from her days as a dancer, extended far beyond the hem of her little black dress. A scripted tattoo was etched along her right ankle, one of a few that served as life-messages upon her sexy body. Darla Humphrey, now Darla Clark, sat on the other end, and Magnolia Butler was in the middle.

  The trendy hotspot, called LIV, inside the Fontainebleau Hotel on the Miami Beach strip, was deliciously decorated in pale blues and lavender, with dark wood bar tables, draped private VIP rooms, and two mirrored, elongated bars. Oversized plasma TVs graced every wall, showing last-minute countdowns from most major cities.

  Magnolia and Darla both lived nearby in Miami Beach. Rebe lived in Coconut Grove.

  It was New Year’s Eve.

  The well-promoted, well-attended bash was wall-to-wall packed.

  The sounds of Whitney Houston’s “Exhale” serenaded the disco-like, neon-lit room. The soft mixture of pink and blue LED flashing-light designs bounced along the walls and from the ceiling. The glass dance floor was a pastel menagerie of light grids that grooved to the beat of the popular R&B music.

  And it was 11:46 p.m.

  “What? So after that you didn’t have sex because of your monthly visitor?” Extra thick and curvy Darla, a widow, leaned toward her friends with her light brown, precision-cut hair with bangs that covered her high forehead. She wore platinum hoop earrings, and a liquid silver minidress, looking like a lady disco ball. She picked up her fluted champagne glass and took a tiny sip of the yellow label Brut, extending her manicured pinky as she swallowed. And she still wore her princess cut diamond wedding ring on her ring finger.

  Rebe scrunched up her nose, and her smoky eyes squinted like a foul wind had blown by. “Ewwww, yes, of course it stopped me,” she said, squirming in her seat.

  “All I know is he turned out to be a player, just like all the rest.” Magnolia knew all too well from the way Randall would always look at her, checking her out whenever Rebe would turn her back. She frowned like she took his infidelities personally, and gulped her vodka and peach schnapps. Her scarlet nails matched her knee-length strapless chiffon dress. Her gold slingbacks were high and sexy.

  Darla added, “There are ways to slow down the flow. That’s all I’m saying. Even I know that. I mean, it was your honeymoon.”

  Rebe paused with a hold-up look for them both. “Oh, you, the one who hasn’t had sex in what, six years? I can’t believe you’ve got the nerve to be giving me tips on anything.” She gave a snarl.

  Darla raised her threaded brows. “It’s been five years, thank you very much, and I’m proud of it.” She gave a long blink. “Anyway, you’re the one who started this topic of conversation, not me.”

  “Yeah, well I wish I hadn’t. I was just trying to laugh off why my marriage may have failed, that’s all. Feeling a little reflective.” Rebe twisted her generous lips and raised her glass, tipping a swallow of Perrier water into her mouth.

  Magnolia kept her hands on her cocktail glass. “Hell, at least you had a wedding night. I think my man-picker is broken. It has been as long as I can remember. And it’s probably a good guess that I’ll never find out what it’s like to even have a wedding night. I mean, after all, thirty-nine will be gone in, ah,” Magnolia peeked at her diamond watch, “twelve minutes and counting.”

  Darla, a dental technician, tilted her head toward Magnolia as her lips gave way to her to-die-for bleached teeth. “Me too, girl. I’ll be saying good-bye to thirty-nine right along with ya.”

  Rebe added, “I’m right behind both of you. Remember when we were younger? We thought forty was damn near elderly. I mean, all of our parents were the very age we are now.” She thought back for a minute. “Tell me, where in the hell did the time go? My Lord.” She shook her head and gave Magnolia a reflective gaze.

  Magnolia said, “That’s true, huh? Back in the late eighties in college we just swore by now we’d have all the answers. Was that more than two decades ago already?”

  Rebe nodded. “Yes, it was.” Her eyes shifted to Darla. “And then you and Aaron ran off and eloped. You came back married and I was like, excuse you.”

  Darla ran her fingertips along the back of her closely tapered neckline. Her full face showed her displeasure. “Oh please. Don’t bring him up. Not tonight.”

  Magnolia spoke right up, “Oh Darla, we love you. I know it’s been five years since he passed, but you had a solid marriage and a man who loved you. A faithful man. My relationship with Neal lasted a little more than one damn year before he got with old ghetto girl. Aaron loved you for you, Darla. He told me that himself. And for that, you’re blessed.”

  Darla’s shoulders dipped. She leaned her full-figured body back and then forward, and exhaled. “I do miss him. Lord knows I do. But one day, I’m gonna need to move on and get me someone, or should I say, get me some, period.” She looked like she was almost joking.

  Rebe gave a look of wonder. “But Darla, come on now. I still can’t believe you haven’t had even one dick in you in all that time. Not a one?” She held up a solo index finger.

  “No. And?” Darla waited like she was prepared for battle.

  “And, how do you do it?” Rebe asked.

  “I mind my own damn business, that’s what I do. Just like you don’t want us all up in your stuff.” She cut her eyes from Rebe to Magnolia. “And we know you get more dick than all the ladies up in this club tonight put together. Fast ass.”

  Magnolia gave a half-gasp and put her hand to her chest. “Me? Oh please. Talk about minding someone’s business. So now I’m the slut? Where’d that come from? All because Rebe shut down the pussy on her wedding night.”

  Rebe shook her head and managed a snicker.

  Darla put her hand up. “I’m just saying. I mean honestly, you’ve been in more relationships than we have.”

  “I have. Yeah. You’re right. But don’t trip just because I can catch, now. That hasn’t been the problem, catching. But damn, if I’m so successful in the bedroom, then why did Neal leave my ass? A man who w
asn’t even that good in bed anyway.” Magnolia readjusted her long black ponytail, which hung down the middle of her back. Her scent was her usual gardenia. It was always sprayed over the cherry ladybug tattoo on her neck.

  Rebe said, “I did hear on television that it’s not only about how much sex you have, but also what kind of sex you have that matters. And I’m not trying to say I’m any expert, because I am surely not.” Rebe’s eyes were suddenly distracted by nearby testosterone. “They said we women should get off our backs and get on our knees, so to speak. It’s about opening our minds and our legs. I mean, I remember they talked about not only having safe sex, but having great sex, too.”

  Darla stared squarely at Rebe. “Did you hear about that before or after you got stingy on your own honeymoon?”

  Rebe kept her sights on the vision of a hunk behind Darla’s back, a few barstools away. “Very funny,” she said without even a snicker. “I’m just saying, Randall cheated on me just like Neal cheated on you, Magnolia. And when Randall left, he left me and my daughter. Trinity took that hard, especially after not having a father figure since her dad died. So, like I said, I know how you feel.” Rebe uncrossed her legs and offered a demure smile, but not to Magnolia.

  Darla added, “I know one thing. I don’t care what those women out there are doing in this crazy-ass world nowadays. I’m not about to die over a moment of pleasure. I’m sorry but I’ve just gotta be me.”

  Rebe batted her eyes and inched her sights back to her buddies. “Yeah, but think about it. Haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to just totally let go and freak out like there’s no tomorrow? To have sex with a stranger or have an orgy or buy all the sex toys you can and just screw yourself all night long? Haven’t you even been the least bit curious? Come on.”

  Magnolia said immediately, “Not even.”

  Rebe sucked her tongue. “Please. Yes you have.”

  “Orgy. Hell no. Masturbate all night, maybe.” Magnolia took a drink, fighting her urge to laugh at herself.

  Rebe eyed the view behind Darla again. Her cheeks began to blush. “Well heck, I’ll be the first one to break beyond my boundaries. Shit, I might just walk right up to him,” she nodded toward the man she’d been eyeing and then looked down toward her water glass, “and ask him to take me home and fuck me like the new freak I need to be. Like he’s mad about slavery and shit. I mean do me like it’s 1999, instead of 2009. Take me like I’m the last screw of his life and he’s about to get hit by a Mack truck in the morning.” She shook her brain, and her torso like she had shivers running up and down the slit of her vagina.

  Darla gave Rebe a side angle stare and turned around to see a big man, very long, like he could be maybe six-seven if he stood, with a low-cut fade, perfect goatee, and light skin, deep dimple in his chin, eyeing down Rebe like she was the last corner of grandma’s secret recipe macaroni and cheese on Thanksgiving Day. “Damn,” she said, turning back around to give Rebe a high five with her eyes.

  Magnolia glanced behind Darla, too. “Yeah, right. You do that. And then, and only then, I will have an orgy,” she said with sarcasm.

  “No, you won’t,” Rebe said as a dare.

  Magnolia shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t have to worry about a damn orgy because you’re not about to say one single solitary thing to that man. Not darling Rebe. And yes, he is a hunk now. I will say that. Oh, yes I will.”

  Rebe straightened her back. “Yeah, well, I guess you really don’t know me like you think you do.”

  “Please. You don’t know yourself.” Magnolia looked assured.

  Rebe said, “Maybe none of us knows ourselves the way we should.” She turned her body all the way toward them and re-crossed her legs. “I’ll tell you what. Dare. How about for 2009 we turn up our libidos and make some real resolutions? Some sexual resolutions. Something different. How about if we go into the new year shattering our beliefs about sex? Living our sexy dreams, out loud.” She used her hands to assist her words. “I just think we’ve set these boundaries for ourselves, and maybe they’ve limited our ability to really experience the sexual side of us. I mean, these comfort zones are getting tired if you ask me. Honestly, I’ve had enough of this frigid adulthood. I’ve never been excited about sex much anyway, but for some reason lately, I’ll be honest with you, I’m on fire.” Eyes agreeing with her words, she circled the rim of her glass with her fingertip, like moonshine was inside versus sparkling water. Darla looked at her like she was on something.

  Rebe continued, “I don’t know about you two, but I’ve been thinking about this a lot. We are not getting any younger. And physically, I can see myself starting to age.” She pointed under her eyes. “Right around here. Like little crow’s-feet, and dark circles.”

  “I don’t see anything,” Magnolia said, squinting her eyes to see.

  “Yeah, well I do. First of all, I think I’m perimenopausal. But in spite of that, I’m about to cross over the erotic line and dive off the edge for real. I’m about to say good-bye to my inhibitions. Hell, it’s a new year.” She leaned closer toward them. “I say we lighten up like we should’ve twenty years ago.” She sipped her water.

  Darla shook her head. “Rebe, girl, please. We’re not twenty any more. We can’t go back.”

  “Who says?”

  Magnolia reminded her, “We’re forty. Hello.” Her eyes said hello, too. “Our biological clocks are ticking just like yours. I don’t even have a kid, you do. Hell, I’ve never even been married. But I’ve got the bridesmaid thing down, between you, about two cousins, and one of my old co-workers. Enough.”

  Rebe smirked and glanced up at the time on the television screen over the bar. “Hold up now. We’re not forty yet. And for the next five minutes, I’m about to dare even myself and open my mind in a way I’ve never done before. I’m about to take back my sexual freedom, and my first step is—get ready for this—I’m gonna start stripping.”

  Darla looked amazed. “Stripping. Oh Lord, are you sure that’s seltzer water or whatever the heck it is you’re drinking? I know you were a dancer years ago and all, but who’s gonna hire a forty-year-old stripper?”

  “I already have my pole-dancing class set, if you don’t mind.”

  “What?” Magnolia watched Rebe’s eyes, which were again focused on the big man to the left.

  The crowd started to get louder.

  The buzz was more intense.

  Folks’ glasses were being filled to the rim.

  People moved closer together.

  Rebe moved her eyes back to Magnolia and Darla. “Anyway ladies, what about you? What is it that you’ve always wanted to do but never had the nerve to do?”

  Magnolia took a long gulp as the bartender walked up. She smiled and pointed toward her and her friends’ glasses for fill-ups. The bow-tie-wearing lady nodded and walked away. Magnolia spoke as if she were telling the FBI’s most classified secret. “Well, actually, a few months ago I was talking on the phone to this guy, and he told me I sounded like a phone sex operator. I mean he pissed me off a little, but later I actually thought of what it would be like to do that. You know. Turn someone on over the phone while they play with themselves.” She dropped her sexy smirk and sat up straight. “Maybe even strange men. Like online.”

  Darla waved her hand at Magnolia. “See, you trip me out. Your banker look, with your hair always pulled back, wearing suits and carrying briefcases just doesn’t match with that madness.” She shook her head. “I know you meet guys, but, I can’t even picture you doing that.”

  Magnolia nodded to the bartender as she set down their drinks. She asked Darla, “Well what about you? Like we’d ever be able to picture you doing anything.”

  “To tell you the truth, I’ve been thinking about opening a business. I mean, I think maybe it’s about time for me to do something with what’s left of this life insurance money.” She heard her own words and knew it was her overbearing pride that was bigger than her honesty. “And, I was wondering what it would
take for me to open an adult store.”

  “An adult toy store? You?” Magnolia asked, looking baffled. “And you can’t picture me online?”

  “Well, you know I love lingerie. I was thinking about a lingerie store, and adding in some toys, videos, things like that.”

  Rebe spoke with energy before Magnolia could say anything else. “That sounds good, Darla. If that’s what you wanna do, then I think you should do it.” Her eyes flipped between her friends. “I’m shaking off all that ‘what we can’t picture’ crap. So what do you say? Three of us? I mean, it’s just sex. It’s not gonna kill us. Let’s do it.”

  Magnolia tapped her fingernails along the bar and looked left and then right at her friends. “Shit, might as well.”

  Rebe smiled, noticing the time. “Then the challenge is on. Grab your glasses, ladies.”

  Just then, just as the BFF’s agreed to their sexploration rules, the boisterous countdown began around them. They all rose to their high-heeled feet, standing side-by-side on the concrete flooring, and raised their glasses high in the air.

  “Ten.”

  “Nine.”

  “Eight.”

  “Seven.”

  “Six.”

  “Five.”

  “Four.”

  “Three.”

  “Two.”

  “One.”

  As everyone began to yell, “Happy New Year,” Magnolia said extra-loud, “Here’s to girlfriends never being farther away than the arms of our hearts can reach.” It was the threesome’s sisterhood mantra.

  Rebe and Darla nodded and smiled, and all three said together, “Cheers,” as they clinked their glasses.

  A few of the people along the bar and those who stood behind them offered a touch of their glasses, too, each saying, “Happy New Year,” and the ladies saying it in return. Groups of strangers hugged, loud horns blew and noisemakers cranked, and turquoise balloons drifted slowly from the ceiling downward among the many bodies, making a trail to the floor around them.