I opened my CD box to find my old Lauryn Hill CD so I could put it in and listen to it on the drive back downtown. By the time I looked up, Kyle had pulled away. I slipped the CD in, and just as I was about to pull away from the curb, a familiar face walked out of the restaurant beside Paola’s.
“Miata?” I said to myself. “No, it can’t be.” It was her. My heart started beating fast. I didn’t know why, but I wanted to do something, say something. From what I could tell, she was alone. I had to say something. Maybe I could connect with her and find out, once and for all, what was really happening between her and Julian.
I stepped out of my car when she turned toward me. I didn’t know what I was gonna say or do, but I was all heart, all emotion. Suddenly my initial rationale left me and I kept thinking, That bitch took my man. And though I wasn’t born in the ghetto, I knew the rules of the ghetto. She needed her ass whooped for that.
“Miata,” I said, stepping onto the sidewalk behind her. It stung to hear her name said aloud.
“Yes,” she turned and smiled. She looked uglier than I remembered. I didn’t know what to say after her name. I mean, I expected her response to be something I could work with. She was supposed to call me a bitch and then I’d pull out my lip liner and start stabbing. Yeah, that was how fights went.
“What are you doing with Julian?” Oh, my God. I sound like an ass. Those aren’t fighting words, Troy, I said to myself. “I mean, I’m just asking.” I was punking out and the fight hadn’t even begun.
“Excuse me?” She stepped toward me with that stupid grin on her face again. “Do I know you?”
“You know you know me. Don’t even try it. What are you doing with Julian?”
Miata stepped close and batted her eyes seductively.
“Everything.”
That one word, that one single word, was enough to make me want to jump on Miata and beat her until the cops dragged me off of her lifeless body. But I knew better. I was raised better than that. Obviously, she wasn’t.
“And he’s loving every moment of it,” she added. Suddenly I felt stupid for even getting out of my car. I wasn’t a confrontational person. My fights with my mother didn’t count. What was I trying to prove?
“Look at you,” she said, “you can’t even say anything.” She stepped back. “Poor precious little rich Barbie doll. I guess you’re about to cry.”
“What is your damn problem?” I asked.
“My problem is you, Troy. I want Julian. I’m the kind of real woman he needs by his side. Not some little girl who hasn’t worked for anything in her life. I’ve worked hard for everything I have. And I’m willing to work even harder for Julian.”
“You sound crazy. You must be crazy.” I shook my head. “You can’t make him love you. You can’t make a man love you.”
Miata laughed and stepped back, tossing her purse over her shoulder.
“Once again you’ve proved me right,” she said. “Rich and obviously not very smart. If you want Julian, you try to take him from me and then you’ll see what I can and can’t make someone do.”
I wanted to say something cool like, “Well, it’s on, trick,” but all that came out was, “Whatever.”
Defeated, I turned to walk back to my car, but then I heard Tasha’s voice in my head saying, “Stand up for yourself.”
I turned back around toward Miata and I tapped her on the shoulder.
“On second thought,” I said, “just who in the fuck do you think you are?”
“What?” she said, stepping back.
“You don’t know shit about me other than what Julian has told you, so I’d appreciate it if you kept my name out of your nasty-ass mouth. You may have been through a lot of shit, but if you don’t stay away from my man, you’re gonna have to go through a lot more. And that, my dear, is a promise.”
Miata’s mouth was hanging wide open. I looked her up and down, sucked my teeth, and stepped back toward my car. I knew better than to turn my back on her.
On the way back home I got myself further riled up after slipping in one of Tasha’s old West Coast gangsta rap CDs. I was pissed and ready to fight, and I actually liked the feeling of adrenaline rushing through my veins.
Miata’s little silly scene that proved she was completely insane was just the fire I needed on my backside to push me on to the next part of the plan. She asked for World War III and she was about to get it.
Female Defense/Offense: Playing for Your Man
Make no mistake about it—no matter who your man is, how he looks, or what he has, some other woman has her eyes on him. It’s simple mathematics. Women outnumber men three to one, and the numbers get even worse the higher you climb in social status. The number of good, well-bred men out there is low. This mathematical fact has led to a sometimes cruel world where a woman is left with no choice but to fight to keep her man…if he’s really worth having.
It may sound a bit catty, but ignoring the possibility of another woman trying to ruin your happy home could leave you with scratches on your back. You must be prepared for when women attack.
Signs Your Man Is Under Attack: The other woman laughs too hard at his corny jokes, she volunteers to spend time with him, she calls a little too late, she’s always saying how much she admires your relationship, and she’s always asking him to come by to fix something or help her out—she needs to find her own “Mr. Fix-It.”
Women to Look Out For: The assistant, the ex, women at church, his “girlfriends” who can’t seem to respect you, and, sadly, sometimes your friends attack, too.
Do’s:
Don’ts:
Note: Trust your man and talk to him openly about your feelings. But don’t nag.