Kimmy in MM
Dirty Laundry’s Chapter Six
“Yeah, she’s perfect.”—Andre
-Kimberly Mantez
Sunday is finally here and the week is starting all over again. Malik, MJ, and I will be attending his family’s Sunday Dinner. Ms. Elaine actually cooks a glorious meal every Sunday. We just don’t go every week. If Malik says he wants to go, we’ll go. But, if not, we’ll order take out or I’ll cook.
For the moment, Malik is not in his usually monsterious ways. Instead, he’s being my gentle giant. He’s been affectionate towards me, we’ve even made love every night since he got back from San Juan. I smiled at the thought of Malik going back to being his old self, but I know this won’t last. It hasn’t been proven and he hasn’t been diagnosed with anything, but I do truly believe Malik is bipolar. One day he’s my Malik—sweet, caring, gentle, loving, husband material—and the next he’s Adolf Hitler—controlling, abusive, manipulative, and malicious. But, at the end of the day, he’s really all I got.
Andre has been one of the only positive things to happen to me this week. We’ve been texting for the last couple of days and so far I’ve learned a bit about him. One, he’s a mama’s boy, two, he loves to cook—which is shocking, being he is a professional basketball player—and three, he has a crazy obsession with shoes—he and Malik have that in common. Andre always finds a way to cheer me up and him always there at the right moment. Even though, it has only been a couple of days, I feel like I’ve known him for years. We can talk for hours about nothing. We have so much in common it’s freaky. I just wish I would’ve met him before I met Malik.
I finally agreed to meet up with him. He asked me to meet him at the beach. It’s quiet and small and people hardly go there. That way, paparazzi won’t be able to photograph us, and Malik or the press won’t get hold of anything. Sunday dinner is at eight, so if I can get out of the house by nine AM, I’ll be back in time. I just have to think of something to tell Malik.
I got out of the shower and wrapped myself in a plush, white towel. After drying off, I dressed in sweats, flip flops, and a thin hoodie. I made my way to Malik’s office to tell him I was leaving. I knocked twice before listening for him to tell me to enter.
“Morning babe, I’ve got some last minute shopping to do. You mind if MJ stay here with you?”
Malik rose from his computer chair and walked over to where I was standing.
“What you shopping for Kimmy?” he asked, eyeing me.
I searched my brain for a lie, thinking on my toes, “some gifts for your mother and Mali. I haven’t seen them in a while, so I thought I’d be generous,” I smiled, sweetly.
He bent down to place a kiss on my lips nodding, “Don’t be letting no niggas look at what’s mine either,” he grabbed my ass through my sweats, pulling my petite body into his.
“I won’t babe,” I nodded.
“Be back by four though, I want some before we go to the dinner,” he smirked, slapping my ass and sending me on my way.
Hitler is back…
***
As I drove on the highway, I got a chance to be to myself. I was able to do what I wanted and let loose. Beyoncé’s Flawless—which is my favorite song—came on the radio, just as I was turning the volume all the way up.
“You wake up—flawless,
Post up—flawless,
Ridin’ round in it—flawless,
Flossin’ on that—flawless,” I sang with freedom in my voice.
Malik would have a fit if he knew I was listening to Beyoncé. I don’t know why, but the last time I tried to sing one of her songs, he literally slapped me so hard, I pissed my pants. He went into rage, falsely accusing her of misandry—hating men. The same went for female artist such as, Mary J. Bilge, Lauren Hill, Alicia Keys, and even Whitney Houston. But, he’ll allow me to listen to Migos, Young Thug, Meek Mill, and Rick Ross who constantly yell things about, “hoes and tricks.”
The entire ride to the beach, I blasted my music, and candidly sung along. I parked in one of the many parking spaces and sent Andre a text to let him know I was sitting in the parking lot. He replied fleetly with a simple, “I’m walking towards your car now.”
I went into space, second-guessing my actions. Was this right? I began questioning my troth to Malik. I know he would’ve never let me leave the house if he knew I was going to the beach—to meet with another man at that. But at the same time, this is purely innocent. Andre and I are just friends, he has never made a sexual advance toward me and he’s always been respectful of my relationship with Malik. Even when we met at the grocery store, I could tell he wanted to be more than friends, but because he respects my relationship, he’s fine with being companions. Malik has sheltered me from the word since I hit the age of consent. Andre is my way into the world.
Andre smiled—those teeth white as snow and straight as an arrow—as our eyes connected through my windshield. My face had a mind of it’s on, allowing the muscles inside to curve into a smile. He opened my door and stood in the space between the door and the inside of my car.
“It’s nice to see that beautiful face again Miss. Mantez,” he greeted.
My cheeks heated, as an uncontrollable giggle escaped my lips, “Thank you,” I accepted his compliment.
He held out his left hand for me to latch onto. I placed my hand in his and allowed him to guide me out of the car. The air was windy causing my hair to blow all over the place and my clothes to dance every which way. After securing my car, I followed his lead towards the beach, continuing to hold onto his hand.
Andre had a bizarre way of making me feel safe and out of harm’s way. Even when we’re talking through text, I feel as if, I’m being guarded by a guardian angel of some sort.
“Where are we going?” I asked after we’d been walking for a total of five minutes.
“Somewhere,” he replied curtly.
I cut my eyes behind his head, “Don’t give me that look,” he said.
My eyes widened in shock as I relaxed my face into a small smile.
We walked for a little while longer until we stood in front of a beach house. He turned to face me with a grin and said, “Welcome to my Paradise.”
Andre is such a rare kind of man. He’s the one out of a million that will take off their jacket during a blizzard and hand it to a homeless person. The one that will bring you flowers just because he’s glad you were put on the Earth. The one that will love you unconditionally no matter how much wrong you’ve done. I don’t even have to have known him for years to see what kind of man he is. But again, it’s only been days, I really don’t know what I’m talking about.
Inside the house was a warm feeling. It’s décor was very country and felt a lot like home.
“This is beautiful Andre, did you decorate?” I complimented.
“Nah, my mom—,” I laughed at the mention of her. From, what I’ve been told, she’s one hell of a woman.
“What?” he chuckled.
“I was just thinking about the things you’ve told me, she seems like a real nice lady.”
“Yeah, she is, sometimes. Follow me,” he ordered.
I followed him into what I found to be the kitchen. The cabinets were wood and the counter tops were a light brown marble, matching the cabinets. There were different spices on the counter beside the stove and the fridgerator was one of those huge stainless steels.
“Don’t tell me you about to have me cooking and shit,” I crossed my arms.
He laughed and put his hand to his heart, feigning hurt, “You don’t wanna cook for me?”
“I—,” I started to explain.
“Nope! Don’t wanna hear it,” he joked.
I turned my lips up, pulling off a ‘really?’ look.
“We’re actually making ice cream,” he informed me.
“Oh my god! I love—,” and then I thought of the time we had gotten on the subject of foods after he’d told me he loved to cook, “Aww,” I coo’ed.
“You remembered,” I smiled, pulling him into a hug without even realizing it.
For a few seconds it felt weird and foreign, and then he wrapped his arms around my body, pulling me closer to him, our bodies molding into one. I quickly pulled away before I fell, and fell hard.
He opened the fridge door and pulled out a bowl of crushed ice.
“Let me guess, your momma prepared everything too?” I joked.
“Uh, hell no. I did all this,” he laughed.
“You just bring your little ass over here and help me make this ice cream.”
Andre and I had a ball executing all different types of ice cream. I haven’t had this much fun since I was a teenager during the time my father was alive. We now sat under a fluffy blanket in his living area on a extended couch. The TV was off and the candles were lit as we sipped red wine and ate our big bowl of ice cream. I had put brownies in the oven during the process and chopped them up to eat with the ice cream.
“You bake a bad brownie girl,” he complimented.
“Thanks, I don’t bake a whole lot at home.”
“And why the hell not?”
“Malik doesn’t like for us to eat sweets. Diabetes runs in his mother’s family,” I explained.
I didn’t tell Andre about the things Malik and I go through. I honestly don’t think that’s his business to know, and plus I don’t want him to be my pity party. Or worse, Malik’s murderer.
“That has nothing to do with you Kimmy. If you want to make a brownie every once in a while you should,” he expressed.
“Well, I’m not, I respect his wishes.”
Andre shook his head and silently continued to eat out of the bowl of ice cream we shared.
“You have someone special?” I asked Andre, already knowing the answer.
“Kimmy you should already know the answer to that, but, no, I don’t.”
“And why the hell not? You’re everything.”
Andre shrugged in response, not saying anything.
“Well, is there someone you have in mind?” I asked. If I can’t have Andre, I will most definitely try to find a girl worth being with him.
“Yeah, she’s perfect,” he said.
“Well go for it!” I encouraged.
“She’s occupied.”
“She’s lucky, and if I knew who she was, I would slap some sense into her.”
Andre laughed, and I mean laughed. Like, what I had said was the funniest thing ever.
“You’re a trip you know?”
“Whatever,” I said, looking down at my watch, 5:00PM.
Oh shit! I lost track of time between arriving, making ice cream an brownies, cleaning up his entire kitchen and sitting on this fucking couch cup caking with a man that ain’t my man!
I then realized that I had left my phone in the car this entire time. I hopped up from the couch and ran towards the front door to step into my shoes and quickly throw my jacket on and zip it up.
“Kimmy! What’s wrong?” Andre asked, coming up behind me.
“I’m sorry, I have to go,” I said with one foot out the door and hauled ass to the beach parking lot.
It took me less than five minutes to get to my car, start it up, and speed onto the highway. I was running red lights, cutting in front of people, all in the wrong lanes, I’m surprised I didn’t get killed with my reckless driving. I stopped by the mall and swiftly picked up some crazy shit from Mali and Ms. Elaine, bringing me into my driveway at six on the dot.
Malik is going to beat my ass.
**
Uh Oh, Kimmy is in trouuuuubleee. Pray for my girl. This update wasn’t supposed to be here today, but Miss. Jen gave me dedication and I was like “yasssss, let me do something.” Anyway, I did make up a word, “monsterious,” lmao. Microsoft Word, obviously didn’t like that. During my mention of R&B singers, notice they are all very feminist and confident and inspiring. So, that is the true reason why Malik doesn’t want Kimmy listening to them.
Questions:
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—DymonSkies