Chapter 16
“Mr. Rapp, this is Leonard Landry with the foundation circling back to see if you’ll be joining us this year. We’d be honored by your presence. Looking forward to hearing back from you.”
The message ended, and I fell against the back of my sofa. I wasn’t going, and I didn’t understand why I wouldn’t just tell him that. Maybe because I wanted to go? No, that couldn’t be it.
Sighing, I held the phone, staring at the dormant screen, and jumped a little when it resurrected with a text message from Ishmia: You know how to ride horses?
She was so damn random. I liked that about her.
Me: Yep. Learned when I was like ten.
Her: Figures. Ever played water polo?
Me: Yes, ma’am.
Her: Damn, what haven’t you done?!
Me: I haven’t done YOU outside the state of New York.
Her: I never really liked Smoke. Not in a sexual way.
Huh? Where did that come from?
Me: Oh, so y’all never had sex?
Her: Hell no!
I frowned, thinking about all the pictures I’d seen of them together during their relationship.
Her: Just thought you should know that. I’ll hit you up later.
Me: Okay.
Before I could set my phone down, another message popped up.
Robin Stick: Rapp! Guess what? I did one of those DNA test things. I’m one percent Nigerian! I’m a brother! Skrrrrrt!
All I could do was shake my damn head.
“Ohhhh, so you do remember how to call me. I can’t believe it!” Jones said.
Placing the phone on my thigh, I picked up the dumbbell. “Man, whatever. Add Ford to the call.”
“Aw, shit! This about your new woman, which, what the fuck?”
“What you mean, ‘what the fuck?’ I look better than your ass.”
“Negroid, please. Hang on while I call Ford.”
“Bet.”
A couple seconds later, I heard Jones say, “Rapp, you still there?”
“Yup,” I confirmed.
“Rapp, my man! What’s going on? You done married Bambina already?! Damn, how you do that? I mean, I ain’t jock-watching, but what kind of dick you got to rope her in so fast?” That, of course, was Ford.
“Fuck you, you damn Daywalker,” I shot back at him.
“Wowwww, that was low. With your uglass…” Ford muttered.
“Got damn, y’all! Rapp, whatchu got to tell us?” Jones said.
“Me and Ishmia are in a relationship now,” I shared.
“Who in the shit is Ishmia? What the hell, Rapp?! You done moved on? How you fuck things up with Bambina? I was hoping for some VIP passes or something,” Ford whined.
“Nigga, Ishmia is Bambina’s real name!” I advised him. “And why would I have to be the one who fucked up?”
“My bad,” Ford said. “I still don’t understand why she would want your ass, but congrats! That’s crazy!”
“Uh…thank you?” I said.
“That’s cool, man. A dream come true for you, huh? Not many people can say they ended up in a relationship with their celebrity crush,” Jones observed.
“Yeah, it really is crazy, but I’m happy about it. I think she is, too.”
“I’m the good coochie bitch coming straight from The Boot
He like the way I taste, I make him look before he shoot
If you think I’m cocky, it’s my horn to toot
Head game so complex it’s like Trivial Pursuit
Ain’t a nigga alive can deny I got that good
What’s already known can’t be misunderstood
You sleeping on me but you can’t get no rest
That call me D.O.N., I’m the cream, I’m the best
They beeee, big simpin’, spending cheese
They beeee, big simpin’, begging deep
They beeee, big simpin down on they knees
They want this good-good but I roll my eyes and say, ‘Nigga please…’”
Ishmia and Vicky-with-the-Blicky were performing on the Loretha Halter Show, tearing the stage up. I mean, yeah, half the words were bleeped out, but I had the album, so I knew what went where. I was bobbing my head and smiling, thinking to myself that while the world didn’t know it, that was mine right there.
Got damn, life was good!