24. Denise
Chapter twenty-four
Denise
A nother horror movie marathon or even a wild night of good drinks and bad decisions wasn't gonna cut it. Not this time. This time, instead of calling Maya, my best friend for most of my adult life, I called Tiffany, and prayed she was open to something a little different. Something more… primal .
Rage rooms have been popping up all over the city. For seventy-five bucks, you can use golf clubs, sledgehammers, or pretty much anything else to destroy things like fine china and household appliances. It's a safe space to release aggression or process big emotions, and now is the perfect time to try one out. I need to break some shit.
The instructors help us into protective gear—full body suits, gloves, and helmets—while reviewing the safety guidelines.
Do not hit the walls or floor with tools.
Do not throw breakables at other people.
Do not break items not intended for breaking.
Let's hope that last one is obvious.
Covered from head to toe and full of liquid courage, thanks to the venue's two bars, our Rage Captain sends us into the room. Tiffany chose a crowbar, while I opted for an aluminum baseball bat, and for forty-five minutes straight, we rage .
I smash through the screen of an old TV with my bat. Tiffany demolishes a set of champagne glasses with one swipe of her crowbar. Both of us smash plates and saucers against the walls and floors. I break a laptop over my knee with a satisfying snap, and Tiffany rips through the canvas of some particularly bad hotel art. Our screams fill the room as we release emotions suppressed every time we're forced to code-switch. Every time we have to play the model minority. Every single time we have to hide our true selves to please someone else.
It's chaotic and liberating and over way too soon. We're both sweaty and laughing as we exit the room; both already planning our next visit. I've never felt so unburdened.
"That was amazing!" Tiffany gushes over her mojito. Her eyes are bright, and her skin is glowing.
"Totally," I agree.
I needed this. So badly . Crying in the bathtub hadn't worked. Eating my weight in ice cream and truffles hadn't worked. Taking way too many edibles and zoning out for an entire weekend hadn't worked. Calling my parents hadn't been an option for years, and now I was down a best friend and a boyfriend in a single day.
By choice , I remind myself. Despite the endorphins still pulsing through my veins, Tiffany senses my dark mood and nudges me in the shoulder.
"Hey. I thought this was supposed to cheer you up?"
I offer her a weak smile and take a sip of my tequila sunrise.
"Sorry, girl. It definitely did. Thanks so much for coming out with me."
"Of course," she says, like I was silly for thinking otherwise. "I could tell you were down on the phone. What gives?"
I stall with another gulp of my drink before sighing.
"Maya and I. We had a huge fight. I really don't know if we're ever going to be cool again."
She nods. Maya probably already filled her in, given they've known each other since junior high.
"Maya told me," she confirms. "She said she caught you making out with Cory?" I respond with a sheepish look, and she rears back.
"I knew something was up with you two! But how are you gonna date Adam's brother without at least telling Maya? And, am I wrong, or isn't he a little bit of an asshole? Not at the center, but with women."
I shake my head.
"Yes, he's Adam's brother and yes, he can be an asshole, but we got it all wrong." When Tiffany frowns, I rush to explain. "What he said to her last year was uncalled for. That's a fact . But there's more to it than that.
"He was dating a plus-size woman from work around the same time Adam and Maya started getting serious. Someone saw them out together, it got back to his boss, and the sleazeball essentially made Cory break things off. But not before saying a bunch of vile shit that Cory repeated when Adam brought Maya around."
"He actually broke up with her?!" Tiffany gasps.
I shake my head again.
"I thought the same thing when he told me, but apparently, his boss threatened to deny him a promotion if he didn't. And you know he was up against Chad and Brent and Tanner trying to get ahead in that White ass firm. It was either break up with her, or leave the firm he worked years to get into."
My cheeks feel hot just thinking about the rampant discrimination he had to deal with. He might not face the same level of bullshit a Black man would in that situation, but Banks Ripley definitely let him know he would never be top dog.
"Well, shit," Tiffany says, slumping against her chair in disbelief. "So this whole time Maya thought he hated her, when he was really just lashing out?"
"Exactly," I say, a little louder than necessary. "And she kept avoiding him whenever he tried to explain."
I don't miss that I'm defending him. Still playing the girlfriend role, even though I gave it up almost two weeks ago now.
"So, are you why Cory started volunteering at the center?" she asks with a mischievous smile.
I roll my eyes.
"Actually, no. That was him trying to make amends with Maya. He thought helping you out would get him in her good graces. I almost had a heart attack when I saw him that first day. I made him swear not to say anything while we were there."
"Wait a minute!" Tiffany twists on her barstool to face me head on. "You were dating back then? That was months ago, Denise! How did this even happen? When did this even happen?"
Months of trying to keep people out of my business and now I'm forced to recount every detail of my personal life several times over. I fill her in on the drunken hookup the night of the wedding. Having to come back for the necklace and hooking up again. The fuck-buddy arrangement. The locksmith incident. And even how we made things official. It takes so long, our food arrives.
Tiffany swirls the mini straw around her drink to break up the mint leaves. I can tell she's still processing everything; hell, I am too.
"Denise!" she sighs, looking almost bewildered, "How could you not tell us any of this?! We're your girls, and you had a whole ass relationship behind everyone's backs?"
"I—" I start, but then stop short. Why didn't I tell them? Why did I think I had to have everything ironed out and perfect before letting anybody know?
"At first," I try again, "there was nothing to tell. He was just a booty call. I barely even liked him."
"Well, you certainly like him now," she says, sucking her teeth. "You and Maya are going to drive me to an early grave, I swear!"
"Me?!" I scoff. " She's the one acting like I broke some girl code just because I wanted to wait to feel things out before telling every-damn-body."
"You did break girl code and you know it," she scolds. "He was a grade A asshole to her, and you went and hooked up with him, anyway. You didn't think it warranted even a chat? He's her brother-in-law, D."
I lower my eyes, thoroughly convicted.
"I didn't want to blow things out of proportion if it was nothing serious. He could've ended up another Derek."
"Who's Derek?" she asks.
"You've just made my point," I respond.
Tiffany gives me a pouty look and throws a balled up cocktail napkin in my direction.
"Maya's scary ass probably would have done the same thing," she says through pursed lips. "Remember how many times she ran from Adam before he finally locked her down?"
"Like, three times."
"Was that all? It felt like more. And all because she was too scared to admit how much she liked him. She was scared he'd just drop her when she was catching feelings. Does that sound familiar?"
I sip my drink to avoid answering.
"Yeah, that's what I thought," she says, smirking. I thought I was out with my friend tonight, not Dr. Jamison.
"You two are so alike. It's the reason you're always butting heads. Whether because of confidence issues or fear of commitment, both of y'all stay running from men you're in love with."
"I am not in love with Cory," I protest. Tiffany looks doubtful.
"Yeah, whatever. I don't even want to be in the middle of this. We're supposed to be the Three Amigas, so y'all need to get over the bullshit and talk it out."
I can see why Tiffany's so great at running her program. I feel like I'm in the principal's office, thoroughly chastised.
"I'm sorry I hid all this from you," I mumble. I hate apologies almost as much as I hate pleated pants. Who exactly do they flatter?
"You need to tell that to Maya. And maybe fill her in on why Cory said what he said, too."
"I did tell her," I pout. She sucks her teeth again.
"I'm sure it went over real well while you were shouting at each other," she says, her voice thick with sarcasm. "Just talk to her, D. That many years of friendship is stronger than a fight over a guy. Besties before testes," she practically sings before jumping off her stool to dance to CeCe Peniston's "Finally".
I can't help but giggle at Tiff's ridiculousness. Getting called on my shit didn't feel great, but neither does not being able to talk about all this with Maya. I may have years of practice doing things on my own, but that doesn't mean that's the right way. Alone is…well, lonely. And if I can't have Cory, at least I can have my girls.
I drain the last of my drink and join Tiffany on the dance floor.