Queenie(20)
“Financially guided who? Excuse me, Queenie, I cannot be with someone in that much debt. I have a lifestyle that needs sustaining. My Mr. Right cannot have minus money.”
“All right, all right, sorry.” I carried on trying with my task, putting the razor blade down and trying to disentangle the string with my fingers.
“So. Behind him is some small guy. Looks Ghanaian. He’s aight.” Kyazike shrugged. It didn’t matter that I was looking at the back of her head; her body language was as expressive as her face. “Not as buff as my man before him, but still, he’s passable. Anyway, I check his account, and my man has cash money. I’m talking six figures, fam. No credit cards, no minuses in sight. So we chat, and he slips me his card, tells me to call him. I look at it, he’s called Sean, I see that he works in finance, cool, but told him that I don’t call guys, they call me. You know what I’m saying?” I would never have the self-esteem to know what she was saying.
“I wrote my number on the back of his card and handed it to him. That night, he calls me, telling me he’s going to take me out, treat me like a princess, telling me how he knows what a girl like me deserves, and how he’s going to give it to me, all that. So I’m like, aight, cool—can you pass me a cushion?”
I passed Kyazike a cushion and waited as she slid it under her bum. “So we arrange to go out on Sunday just gone. Are you still with me?”
“Yep. Just got to concentrate on this bit, it’s a bit tricksy,” I said, peering into the maze of canerows, black string, and weave.
“Don’t cut my hair, you know. I don’t have much after the relaxer’s burned it out,” Kyazike warned me. “Okay, so, before the date, I text Sean and I ask him where we’re going,” she continued. “He tells me it’s a surprise, so I’m like, okay, fine, but I need to know so that I’m properly dressed, innit. He still doesn’t tell me, so I think, okay, it must be a surprise. He must want to take me somewhere fancy. He tells me he’s coming at four, so I get in the bath at one, I soak myself in oils and that so I’m smelling all nice, I straighten my hair, give it a little twist at the ends with the curlers, and listen, my makeup is on point, Queenie. Now, remember, this guy has money, so I slip into my black Balmain dress and I wear the Louboutin thigh-high boots. I’m not ramping with him, you know.”
She paused to eat some more Cheetos. “So I’m sat there ready and waiting at four, where is he, please? Not here. I’m giving him five more minutes until I go and take my makeup off. He turns up at three minutes past. Wasting my time.” Kyazike kissed her teeth. “He texts me to say he’s in the car waiting outside. Lemme just go wee.” Kyazike stood up, putting all of her weight on my thighs as she did. She stretched her legs, and hobbled to the bathroom.
I splayed my fingers and winced as the joints clicked. Kyazike returned and nestled between my knees again. “So, where was I?” She opened her Twix with elegant fingers tipped with white acrylic nails and took a bite.
“I get downstairs, and when I open the door and spot his BMW, I just stand for a couple minutes so he can take in how amazing I’m looking.” She paused for me to really take in how amazing she might have looked. “Sean gets out the car and I clock that he’s just in a T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. From then I’m vex. He opens the door for me, and I slide in. When he gets in the driver side, I cross my left leg to make sure he can see the red sole. He sees. He tells me I look ‘nice,’ and he starts driving. Remember I told you he wouldn’t tell me where this date was? Well. When he gets to the turning, I’m expecting he’s going to buss a left, toward West End. So let me know why this man is going right, please?” Kyazike asked, her head turning to ask an imaginary audience. “But look, I don’t say anything, I just bite my lip and I keep quiet. I thought, okay, maybe he has a surprise for me, and I don’t want to spoil it. Queenie, the next thing I knew, we were parking in Crystal Palace, fam! And no offense to Crystal Palace, but is my outfit a Crystal Palace outfit? No. So he gets out and starts walking, and from then I’m not saying anything to him, I’m vex. We get to some Thai restaurant and he stops and I just stand there and look at him because I can’t believe this is where he’s taken me,” Kyazike said in disbelief. “Listen, Queenie. I’m not saying that I’m too good for Thai, but this is where you come on a Friday night when you’ve been in a relationship for two-plus years, not where you take someone on a first date. But I just thought to myself, let’s see what this guy is about. So we walk in. The lady come over and asks if we’ve made a reservation. Hear Sean: ‘Table for two under the name Kyazike, please.’ I’m sorry? Is that even legal? How can you be booking to take me on a date and you’re telling the people my government name?” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I take a deep breath and I just think, it’s calm, keep going. We walk through the restaurant and everyone is looking at me in my outfit, wondering what I’m doing there. We sit down at the table and start talking. Queenie. I feel a draft and look up next to me; why is there a hole in the wall being half-filled by a piece of wood? Is this guy mad? Is this really where he’s bringing me?”
By this point I had to put the razor blade down because I was laughing so much that I was scared I’d do one of us damage. “Oh, but he can’t help it! And maybe the food was really nice?” I offered weakly.