The Other Woman

"I don't know."
"How could you not know?"
"Because I don't," I reply irritatingly. "Why are you being such a little gossip whore today?"
"I'm not being a gossip whore. I just want to know how your little date went Seny."

I roll my eyes for the umpteenth time during the conversation and begin twisting my fingers around the unfamiliar curly black phone cord, it sprung between my fingers.
"Why didn't you call me on my cell. We rarely use the house phone."
"Just felt like it," he says nonchalantly.

I notice that as I tap my feet against the linoleum floor of the kitchen, that my feet are beginning to stick to the hard flooring. It was a hot day out, sun shining, a cool yet warm breeze was blowing, but it was simply too damned humid. The thick air could stick and melt in your throat if you were in Miami on one of those days. And of course since I have the best luck known to mankind, the air conditioning system in just OUR apartment was broken, and a repairman wouldn't be at the apartment until 5 in the afternoon.

"Its so hot," I mutter miserably into the phone.
"I'm not even at your house and you're hot," he replies arrogantly from the other end of the line.
"Shut up. Its too hot to make jokes."
"Mmmm. I can imagine you all drenched in sweat and wearing a white tank top with those little booty shorts you have."
I giggle, loving the way he sounded so happy and desperate simultaneously. "Why are you such a fool?" I tease him.
"I'm only a fool when I'm around you Seny," he chides back.
"Whatever Billie. Where are you guys today anyways?"
"Atlanta," he yawns.

I suddenly hear the scratching and unlocking of a key in the door. And when I turn my head upright to glimpse at the clock, its 3 pm. Meaning that Jen was home.
"I have to go Billie Joe. Jennifer's home," I whisper playfully.
"She always ruins our conversations," he complains in a whiny child like voice.
"I'll talk to you later. Bye babe"
"See ya."

I hang up the black phone onto the receiver just as I see Jen pop her head through the front door. She groans as she sinks to the couch, a small brown parcel in her hand.
"What's that?" I ask, plopping down next to my best friend.
"Jack keeps dropping his shit off at my job. He's going to get me into trouble one of these days," she grumbles.
"Did you open it?"
"Why the hell would I open his mail?"
"Why the hell would he deliver packages to your job instead of at his house or his own fucking work place?"
"I don't know. He says the last time his boss nearly fired him. And I guess I forgot to ask why he doesn't have them delivered to his house," she replies subtly.
"Hmph," I grunt.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asks quizzically.
"It means humph."
"What are you implying by humph?"
"It means I'm suspicious of dear old Jack," I say with one eyebrow raised. I playfully snatch the parcel out of her tired hands before giving it a slight shake.

"HEY—you could brake something, quit Seny," she begs.
I nod my head before dropping the brown box back on her lap before sweeping a damp strand of hair off my slick porous cheek.
"Plus, you simply don't like Jack, and for what reason I don't know." she adds.

I stretch my arms a bit before not replying to her pointless statements and excusing myself from her presence to use the bathroom. As the hours jollily rolled by, the apartment was getting hotter, the humidity overtaking the fresh air, both Jennifer and I decided to go and seek out our friend Mark, he always had the goods to make your day a tad bit better, well maybe more than just a tad. After our hour log encounter with Mark, Jennifer and I were a little baked, and not because of the scorching sun. We chatted amiably about men, schooling, better drugs, and the outrageous costs of gas.

The rooms were definitely beginning to cool after the A/C repairman came and did a wonderful job of revamping our previously broken air conditioner. Now, instead of damp hair gluing to my sticky sweated skin, I placed my jet black tendrils into a loose ponytail. And when I had showered and changed into a yellow tank with a pair of simple brown shorts, I was truly refreshed. Thank God the restaurant was closed today, the combining heat of the burning sun and the greasy kitchen would have suffocated me.

"Do you want to go out tonight?" I ask Jen, popping my head through the large opening of her bedroom door. She lay on her bed, refreshed just as I was, and flipping through an old issue of People magazine.
"Yeah, we can celebrate the air conditioning," She chortles.

I had turned around to leave her to her gossip reading when she called out
"Serenity, look, your boyfriend's in here."
I flop down on the jelly like mattress, playfully shoving Jennifer in her side.
"Lets see, although he isn't my boyfriend."
"Right," she says with sarcasm.

Rolling my eyes I snatch the magazine from her hands and examine the photograph of Green Day. Mike stood to the right, one lanky arm hovering over Billie Joe's shoulder, who stood in the center. Billie Joe wore a cheeky grin and his jet black hair was for the most part smoothed down on his head, yet still wild, just how I loved it. Tre stood on the left, a shy crooked smile on those lips, and his dirty brown hair in a faux hawk. His brilliant blue eyes seemed to focus just on me, and it made me smile. All three gentlemen wore the signature all black clothing, except for a red or white tie, with Mike being the exception and wearing a black vest. Billie's pants, a few sizes too short as always, were unbreatheably tight, while Tre and Mike's pants hung fittingly around their frames.

"Be honest, which one do you think is cuter?" interrupts Jennifer.
"Honestly... I would have to say Tre, but Billie Joe is only micro nanometers behind."
"It's a shame he's married. I wonder if he's ever cheated on his wife... " she thinks out loud.

I'm unsettled and can't decide whether to vomit my guilt on Jennifer, or blab my affair to her. I decide on neither, although my stomach would have preferred the puking.
"Uhh... I hope not," I reply unsurely.

"Slow down you idiot," I chirp in the passenger seat.
"I'm not even going that fast," she barks, slowly stepping off of the gas.
"Right, doing 65 on a four lane street at night isn't fast at all."
She giggles before taking a glance at my vibrating purse, someone calling me.

"Hi Tre," I smile unknowingly.
'Damn you Mike, give it back' squeals Tre, obviously ignoring my greeting.
"Sorry bout that, What's up?"
"I don't know, you're the one who called me," I reply.
"What are you doing tonight?"
"Me and Jen were going out for some dinner and then a late movie, and you?"
"Hotel room par-tay," he says exuberantly.
I giggle, "I guess that means you're going to have a humungous hangover tomorrow."
"Basically."

An awkward silence looms in the air for a minute or two. What else did we have to discuss?
"So when are you coming back down to bless me and the rest of Miami?" I ask.
"Not sure. I was thinking maybe YOU could come up and give me a visit."
"I'm not really a fan of flying."
"Come on Serenity, you could use a new change of scenery," he says encouragingly.

Little did he know that me meeting up with him could be a grandiose mistake. How was I supposed to act around Billie Joe? What if I ran into Adrienne, and actually had to talk to her? What if I suddenly had the urge to stab her with a pair of sharp scissors in the neck, and claim both Tre and Billie Joe as my own, and then incinerate Mike and his suspicious looks...

"Is that a yes or no?"
"Yea, I guess. But we'll have to talk about this later and get everything planned out thoroughly," I say warily, yet a dash of happiness showed on my face and in my voice. From the corner of my eye, I could see Jennifer mocking me, her eyelashes batting ferociously, and a sickeningly large grin on her face. I slapped her arm before retreating to my conversation with Tre.

"It's settled then," he says arrogantly.
"You're such a moron," I tease. "And why don't you ever pick up your phone? I've tried calling you about three times before this."
"So you really do like me, I knew you couldn't resist."
"Keep thinking that," I retort.
"I will, but on a lighter note, my phone was dropped by a foolish and drunk Billie Joe from the penthouse sweet of a hotel, and it amazingly broke and shattered into a thousand fucking pieces. And it sort of took me a while to call Sprint and get a new one."
"Do you always talk this much?!" I tease. I hear him chuckle on the other end of the phone, wanting to be there and laugh with him. To tickle and shove... to tease and kiss... Or did I want to fulfill those feelings with Billie Joe?

"Well, it was a nice chat, but I have to go," he says briskly.
"Yea, me too. Bye Tre."
"Wait--- don't forget about next weekend, Bye."
"What? What's next weekend?" I ask utterly confused.
"You come to visit me," he says surely, as if we discussed this too many times before.
"I never said I was—"
"Bye Seny," he interrupts and the line goes abruptly dead.

With my gashed open and my eyes sprinted wide, I stared at the cellular device and thought about the sheer audacity of that man.
"Please don't drool in my car," pipes Jen as she pushes the car into park at Midnight Lite.
I glare at her before shoving the phone into my purse and stepping out of the car to enjoy dinner. We both ordered a large bottle of white wine, the only wine we both would drink, and both ordered the same meal of cheesy lasagna mixed with small chunks of shrimp for me, but chicken for Jen. After an adequate dinner we decided to stay a track with our original plans and go see a film. A thriller in which a gentlemen is on a desperate search for the killer of his girlfriend, only to find out that his lady love faked her to death to be with another man, his best friend to be exact.

Three more hardworking days had passed, and I still wasn't exactly sure whether to visit Tre or not. It was likely that some sort of confrontation would occur, and I really wasn't prepared to get into an argument with anyone, especially Billie Joe. And if Tre or any other person observed Billie Joe and I's bitter feelings towards one another, then surely they would put two and two together and unravel our past, something I would NEVER be prepared for.

"Should I? I mean, that'll be like three days off of work. Who would cover for me?" I ask in desperation.
"Please shut up, you know very well that anyone can and WILL cover for you. Stop making excuses and go see the man," Jen squawks as she packs a turkey sandwich into a brown paper bag along with a juice red apple for her lunch at work.
"And I hate planes," I add, trying to convince myself even more.
She sighs as she grabs her earring from the small wooden jewelry box that I bought her as a birthday gift several years ago. "Then don't go, why are so nervous about going?"
"I'm not, I just... I dunno. You know what, I'm going. I need a miniature vacation anyway," I say proudly, now one hundred percent sure, and pretty content with my decision.
"Good," she murmurs, dashing on her silver hoop earrings and then rushing out of the bedroom and through the front door to work. I try my best not to laugh at her faltering figure, but the giggles get the best of me. Now I had to advise Billie Joe on my decision, and prepare for our 'new' encounter. I walk into my bedroom and acquire my cell phone, punching in the numbers as I walk casually towards the pinstriped couch. I lay down horizontally, so that my head can be cushioned by the soft armrests, as I hear the nervous ringing.

"Hello?"
"Hey Billie, its me," I breathe with caution.
"Oh, hey, what's up?"
"I just called to warn you that I'm going to visit Tre this weekend, so we might have to 'meet' each other," I giggle the last part.
"Really?!" he asks, obviously surprised.
"Yep, he and Jennifer sort of convinced me."
"Ok cool," he sighs. "I guess we should act as if we don't know each other then?"

"Actually, I was thinking we could make out in front of them, and then tattle about our affair. Duh Billie Joe," I bark, not really sure why I was catching such an attitude with him.
"I don't appreciate your sarcasm Seny," he growls back in response.
"Well I don't appreciate your lousy skills in bed, but you don't hear me complaining."
"What the fuck just got shoved up your ass!?"
"For a change, its not you."
"Go to hell."
"Right back at cha'," I respond. And with those messy and hateful concluding sentences, we both hang up our phones, both lines going dead simultaneously. Feeling aggravated and confused I toss the device to the other end of the sofa.

'What the hell was that?!' I thought to myself. Almost immediately, I had switched into bitch mode, and for no apparent reason. Hopefully this weekend would be a productive and fun filled one, instead of miserable and catastrophic.