If You Don't Tell

Since Laela had picked up Simone the previous night, it was her job to take her home. I kissed her goodbye and prepared for The Fellas Only Annual Poker Game.

The poker game began six years ago as an annual event between Dre, his boy Coop, and myself, but over the years we picked up a few players. Outside of playing poker, it was a chance for a bunch of fellas to talk shit about a various range of topics, which usually only consisted of our last year's conquests, and our New Year's Resolution to add more conquests to the list. Occasionally, we had some pretty decent conversations, but I doubted that this would be one of those years, especially with BJ present.

Andre's place had already been designated game central this year, so I jumped into my car, got on I-10, and headed and hour east to his suburban bachelor pad.

Traffic was light, especially after a weekend holiday, so I made it to his home in less time than usual, even though I'd made a pit stop on the way. He stayed in a secured subdivision in Katy, and since I was cool with Martha, the security lady, she let me in without me having to harass her again.

Five minutes later, I pulled up into the driveway of 4 year old traditional style house. I didn't see either of his cars in the driveway, so I assumed either no one was home or he didn't want anyone to know, so I grabbed my things out of my car and since I had a key I didn't bother knocking.

His house was one of the biggest in the subdivision, which was saying a great deal for a neighborhood like his. His house sat on a ½ acre lot in size, with the house spanning an incredulous 8500 square feet. From the outside, his house looked like something from the "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous". The outside was a beautiful two storied house made of marble colored stucco and lined with golden trim. The lawn was perfectly landscaped with animal shaped hedges and intricately designed flower bed mazes, which I considered an extreme waste of money, complete with the motion-sensored ground effect lighting that preceded every step on your way to the front door. A pool was installed in the back a few months ago when he bought this luxurious estate, but hardly ever used it, mostly because it was too cool during the winter.

I opened his front door and thought I heard voices emanating from the back of the house. I walked towards the noise and noticed some of the re-decoration he'd had done recently. All of his walls had been painted into an eggshell white, an upgrade from the tannish color they were before. Also, there was newly laid marble tile leading from his front door all the way to pool in the back of the house.

By the time I finished noticing the new additions and rearranged interior, I'd almost walked past the dining room, which was the second room on my left, when I thought I'd heard some noises before they suddenly stopped. I began to turn around and head back towards the kitchen when I heard it again and shouted out, "Dre where you at?"

There were a few seconds of silence and giggling before he yelled, "Back here."

I followed his voice down the hallway, towards the back of the house and found him relaxing comfortably in the library. He sat on his black leather sofa, pant less, with a white lady between his legs focused on nothing but his pleasure stick, which never vacated her mouth.

I shook my head. "I don't mean to bother you, your highness, but we have a game to prepare for."

He seemed surprised to hear the news, but didn't move from his position. The lady, whom I recognized as one of his neighbors from down the street, looked at me and smiled before going back to blowing his brains out. "That's today? Damn. Give me a few minutes, dawg, I'm almost finished. You can finish, baby. He's got a woman and he doesn't get down like that--yet."

She winked at me and I walked towards the kitchen to fix myself a sandwich. By the time I'd finished eating, he'd finished feeding her what he liked to call the "Dre Shake". He jogged out of the library and hugged me, grinning like a schoolgirl, while his neighbor walked past the kitchen, smiled at me again, waved, and then let herself out the front door without saying a word.

"I take it she needed some protein." I said smugly.

"Yes sir, and now her belly is full of it! Mmmmmm good! Women love the "Dre Shake!"

"You's a nasty Negro."

"Why? Because I got down with a white girl? I would've never pictured you on that racist shit with as many white girls you've gotten down with. We are family, son. What's mine is yours. But since you wanna be like that, make sure to put 'He was a nasty Negro who donated much protein' on my headstone."

"What the hell are you talking about? You had me walk in on you getting head! I didn't need to see that crap this early in the damn day! We fam and all, but I don't need to see another man's dick--ever, and certainly not your crooked little thang. Besides, the headstone is bought and paid for already and I damn sure ain't paying for extra words." We both had a good laugh before setting up the card table and getting the snack trays out for the smorgasbord of free food.

Dre and I had been friends since junior high on that fateful bus ride to Atlanta. Through the years he and I had been through a lot together. We both grew up in the same suburb, where black people were few and hearing racial epitaphs whispered behind our backs were daily occurrences. We constantly had to watch each other's back, which usually meant fighting the other kids; white or otherwise. Usually they weren't ever said to our faces, but when people said them around us, we whooped some ass and were suspended just as harshly together too. Eventually Dre became so intolerant of the 'N' word that no one around him was allowed to even say it, black people included.

In 9th grade, when his aunt was accused of neglect and they were going to put him into a foster home, my parents filed an application for adoption of Dre and they were granted custody. My parents were aware of what happened to his parents, his aunt's mistreatment of him, and his situation in school.

They were vigilant when he first arrived, striving to raise his grades in school. Once that was accomplished, they got on the both of us because we got in trouble so much together. To this day I still believe my parents officially adopted him so that they could beat his ass too. For the last three and a half years of high school, Dre and I were legally brothers.

In college we pledged the same fraternity, and though I never finished college with him, I had never been more proud of him when he had. He went on to get a Master's in business and recently became a super-paid investment banker. He received all kinds of accolades from people around him, except me. I was the one who had to keep him grounded when his head began to float away, like today.

There wasn't much I kept from him, so I told what had happened earlier this morning. I went over everything in detail, all the way to the point where I had to wake her up from shouting out my name and then sleeping next to me, but I did conveniently remember to leave out the part of me having an 'erectional response'.

"Yo dick got hard when she got in the bed with you didn't it? " He chirped. Like I said, we knew each other too well.

"Nope, it didn't. Is that all you think about? A hard dick? You sure you're not gay? That's some gay shit to say."

"Don't be a dumbass. You know that girl wants to jump your bones."

"Who, Simone? Are you on crack? I can't even allow myself to think like that. Have you forgotten that Mike is her husband? You know Mike, Mike Hall. The Mike that fixes your cars so that you don't have to pay a grip to get those super expensive pieces of shit fixed. That Mike. And oh, lest we not forget, Mike is my friend!"

"No I haven't forgotten, but you're on that naïve 'I'm trying to be a good friend bull. How many times does coochie have to fall out of the sky and onto your lap before you realize there are other women out there who are jones-ing for you? Man if I had whatever you've gotten a hold of, I'd be the Wilt Chamberlain of the banking world." Everything was said with a bitter overtone. Not necessarily bitter in a bad sense, but because we'd had this conversation many times, I felt he was getting fed up at the fact that I didn't seem to acknowledge anyone other than Laela, especially when he saw it and I didn't.

"What the hell are you talking about? If you had what I had?" I was disgusted that he'd even said that. "Dre, I came into this house and you were getting your brains blown out by someone who didn't care that I was watching! And then after she swallowed, she smiled and waved at me when she left! What do you call that shit? Does she win the good fuckin neighbor award or what?"

"Yeah, that was kind of nice, wasn't it?" He tried to hide the smile, but we both fell over laughing. "All I'm saying Q, is that women are digging you. It may be because you don't notice it, it may be because you have a woman, but don't act like it ain't there when you have two eyes just like me. Denying it only makes the problem grow until the dam bursts and the floodgates open, then you'll be assed out and soaked in a pool of your own bullshit. It's a new year, stop being the same old you. Ok, now its time to make some sandwiches."

"I already ate. "

I smiled and shook my head. Dre was usually right about topics dealing with women. And sometimes he was right on with me, but it was inevitable that every time he had something important to say, he always added a smart remark or joke at the end to break the tension. I guess that's why we got along so well. He knew how to soften up the blow of bad news by disguising it as humor.

With company coming in the next few hours, we began making sandwiches and opening up every bag of potato chips and pretzels we could find. Since I'd bought some soda on my way over, we were ready for any and all hungry Negroes with their free food appetites.

About an hour after he lent his neighbor his patented protein shake, and probably some sugar afterwards, the guests began arriving.

BJ was the first through the door, giving Dre and I head nods and hugs when he entered. "Wassup my n--." He quieted right before saying what he knew was a term of banishment from Dre's house. "I mean, what's happnin fellas?"

"Glad you caught yourself. I'd hate to have to kick your ass before I tossed you out." Dre smiled letting BJ know that he was off the hook.

Not long after BJ made himself comfortable eating up all the snacks in the kitchen, Dre received a call from the security at his gate that his other guests had arrived, all at the same time. He okayed their entry in within a few minutes they were all coming through the door.

We greeted the five others as they came in, handshakes and introductions went around as we comforted old friends and welcomed new ones. Among them, Michael, Simone's husband, his friend Miles "Pookie" Johnson, my friend and another work buddy- Marcus Jackson, Teniyah's husband -Franklin Oliver, and Darryl "Chicken" Cooper-Andre's oldest friend.

After looking around in awe at Dre's place, Mike said, "This yo new spot? Me likey. Damn Dre, you getting paid out the ass, dawg."

"Yeah I manage." He replied with a smug smile on his face.

"Yeah, you manage so well you better have some food up in this mofo." We all laughed at Mike's facetiousness and everyone left the entry way for the kitchen to load up on free food.

We directed them towards the game room, a massive room located next to his garage, which contained Dre's monogrammed pool table and one of the three walkways to the upstairs. By the time we all sat at the poker table, we were all full, laughing, and talking so much crap about who was going to take home the trophy that we almost didn't hear Dre shout out his version of the rules.

"Everybody listen. First of all, I want to thank you for eating all my food, now I don't have to put any of it back up. Secondly, everyone who's playing, will you kindly take your $50 in quarters and or dollars out of your pockets." Every pocket jingled with change as we all took out our money and put it on the table. Marcus's pile was the biggest, mostly because he had all quarters.

"Damn Marcus, what'd you do? Hold up a Laundromat?" BJ outburst has us all falling over laughing and cramping because of all the food we'd ate.

"Okay." Dre stood up and raised his voice so that he could be heard above the chatter that had just been generated all over again. "Finally fellas, the name of the game is Texas hold 'em. I'm the dealer, if you don't like it, so what. We're playing with three decks, $.50 is the minimum allowance per game , ante up after the flop, turn, and river cards have been shown, no wilds, no cheating, raises are encouraged, are we understood." We all nodded in agreement and Dre dealt us each two cards.

Dre sat at the head of our octagonal table, with me sitting to his right and Pookie to his left. Franklin and Mike sat to my right, while Marcus and BJ sat to Pookie's left. After the cards were in our hands, the cross table shit talking began:

Me: So Mike, what happened to you last night? You missed out on some funny shit, dawg.

Dre: A hotel room with two women and just funny shit happened? Not if it was me. It'd be some kinky things happening.

Q: It's a good thing you weren't there then. Cuz then me and Mike would have to kill you.

Mike: I was just kickin it. You know how it is.

Dre: Translation: 'I'm getting up in some new pussy and I don't want to talk about it.'

Mike: You funny Dre. Shut the hell up man before I have to take all the bankers money. Wouldn't that be ironic?

Chicken: I fold. We can't all be whooped like Q over there.

Me: Q ain't whooped; I just got it like that. Don't hate.

Marcus: Yeah, like he said, whooped. I'll raise.

Me: Whooped my ass. Marcus, you can't even talk shit. Your stock just fell to an all-time low. Just because you sleeping with all the chubby buddies don't mean you're a player. I'll match.

BJ: Ooooooooh. Damn dawg, why you let him talk about your big girls like that? I had sex with a chubby alien. They got some tight coochie, but it got me pregnant, so I had an abortion, twice.

Dre: Man, you gotta cut that shit out or stand up and leave the table.

Franklin: I feel you, Q. Teniyah is the only one for me and I'm the only one for her. It's not being whooped, it's love.

Me: I don't know Frankie; you got a wild child on your hands. I'm surprised yo girl don't wear yo ass out. I hear she turns yo ass into a rag doll regularly, per Lae.

Franklin: Oh, ho. Is that what she's saying? I'll have to take care of that. But one of these days, you boys will understand.

Dre: Don't you get all soft on me too, Frank.

Pookie: I feel y'all fellas on that, but I'm still bout to take your money. I'll raise it another $1.

Me: Ooooh, big money. The only thinking you need to do is about taking a bath, cuz that hand can't be a funky as this whooping you bout to catch.

Marcus: So what. I like them thick. Big girls need love too. And they aren't my 'chubby buddies', it's just more woman and more love.

Dre: The only thing they need more of is big clothes.

Marcus: That's foul. You're so damn simple. I bet y'all like them anorexic chicks with straws for necks who think celery, salt, and water is a three course meal. But that's too rich for me, I fold.

Me: Not me. I like my women with some ass. Flat asses are just a travesty. A fat ass makes up for a jacked up face, sometimes.

Dre: My perfect woman would have to be Diamond from 'Player's Club'. I'd drink her bath water, even if she farted in it.

BJ: Hell yeah. Boy I'd drink her toilet water. Everyday. Forever. Speaking of which Dre, word around the station is you're piping Leslie. That bitch is two things--fine and crazy, and dangerous combo. Be careful with her.

Dre: Stay out of grown folks business, boy. Q, what are you telling these subordinates?

Q: Not a damn thang. Wherever that came from, it ain't come from me.

BJ: I would've gotten down on her a long time ago, but like I said, that bitch crazy as hell.

Dre: See now. I told you to stay out of grown folk's bitness.

We continued with our discussion after Pookie won the first hand. While still talking, Dre dealt the next hand.

Me: Back to what we were talking about. Halle Berry is getting up there, but she's still fine and she's still the prototype.

Mike: Know who I'd like to get with? The Vivica Fox from 'Independence Day'. Man her ass was fat as hell.

Franklin: Yeah, she was righteous. I don't know about me. From Hollywood, I guess I'd choose Lynn Whitfield.

Pookie: Lynn Whitfield? Huh?

Franklin: Yeah. She's sophisticated and crazy as hell. I like my women possessive. Shows me they care.

BJ: If a knife in a birthday cake shows you she cares, then my friend, it was nice knowing you.

Me: Crazy is obviously a necessity for you. You already got one crazy one.

Mike: What about you Pook?

Pookie: Steve Urkel's girlfriend.

Marcus: Who Laura? You lost mad cool points with that, son.

Pookie: Naw, the other one. The one who was digging him at first, but he didn't like her. The girl who died.

Dre: Yeah, she was fine as hell back in the day. She died? For real?

Me: Yup. It was a while back though.

Marcus: Queen Latifah is my dream girl.

Dre: How many times are you gonna tell us that? We already know about you and your Queen fetish.

Marcus: I don't care what y'all say, she fine. All hail the queen. She couldn't be named more perfectly. What about famous white girls?

Me: I'm not sure I could get down with a white girl like that.

Dre: Why? Let me guess, the black family mantra.

Franklin: What the hell is the black family mantra?

BJ: You ain't heard about the Mantra? Now Iknowyou a white boy.

Franklin: Well why don't you clear it up for those of us who have a brain.

Me: Well, my pops told me, but it goes something like this, 'It's cool to make the rainbow moan, but you better bring the black one home.'

Dre: Yup, you said it perfectly. I heard that when I was younger.

Marcus: No see, that's some petty shit. Love is love. Look at all these athletes with white girls. White women know how to take care of their men.

BJ: That's cool and whatnot, but it's way too many brothers out here selling out. We say we want a strong community, but people bail out as soon as they get some cash.

Pookie: I love everything about my black women, but if somebody else can treat me better, then I'm not gone walk pass them cuz they not the same color as me. That's dumb.

Me: There's nothing wrong with preference, my problem is when black men who've made it, give all credit to their non-black woman. What the hell is that? You can catch, dribble, and hit better because she's white? That's that mess that gets on my nerves. All these people call you 'nigga', excuse me Dre, when you grow up, so you get back at them by taking one of their women?

Dre: Women are women, but regardless, I just don't like to see good pussy go to waste.

We all laughed.

Dre: Ok, I'm sick of this political shit, let's play some cards. Now, since this is hypothetical, Q, who would you get down on and not claim she helped you be a better black man.

Me: Alyssa Milano. That girl's still fine. I've been diggin her since back in the day.

Dre: She alright. I like Angelina Jolie. That girl got some black in her. Or she would if she returned my phone calls.

Franklin: Me too.

BJ: Me three. But Daphne from Scooby-Doo is a close second.

Mike: You talking about cartoon bitches now? What's going on in that head of yours? The one on your shoulders. Anyway, gimme some of what you're smoking, cuz it's gotta be real good. Anyways, me four. She can have me anytime she wants.