If You Don't Tell

December 29th (Wednesday)

I'd just gotten home from work. I threw off my sweat stained uniform, tossed it in on the couch and made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in my boxers.

"It's too damn hot in this apartment." I muttered to myself and cut on the central air. I usually hated using the AC, it always grew too cold too rapidly, but it was unseasonably warm in Houston, TX, especially for this time of year.

When I arrived home, the only thing I planned to do was sit down on the couch and watch sports highlights using the soundtrack of all the music I had downloaded illegally. To me, life didn't get much better than this; free music, free food, freedom.

I was enjoying my solitude and was halfway done with my sandwich when the phone rang. I leaned over the arm of my couch and checked the ID on the phone to find out it was my future wife, Laela, calling from her job.

"Hello to the first and only future Mrs. James."

She laughed and I loved it when she did. Even though I always teased her about her school girl laugh, I felt like I couldn't do anything wrong when she was laughing. "I got the flowers you sent me at work, they're really beautiful. All the other nurses on the unit were jealous." She said.

I had sent her flowers earlier in the day with the knowledge that her friends might get jealous. I liked doing things like that, especially when Laela would tell me how they thought I was such a great guy and that she'd better hold onto a brother like me. Damn right she better hold onto me. Even though we'd been together for five years, there were still women knocking at the door to see if I could come out and play. I never cheated on Laela and I didn't want her to have a doubt in her mind that I would, so I showed her how much I cared whenever I could. Women are so easy to please when you know how they think. "Well, I was just thinking about you and I wanted you to know that. They cost me a grip, but price is no object for my gal. How's your day been?"

"It's been okay; too long though. I wished I could come home and snuggle up with you. I know you're probably eating PB & J while watching sports. I wish I was right there with you, fondling Pedro while we watched TV together."

"No! I'm actually not doing what you just said. I'm doing the complete opposite as a matter of fact."

"You're a terrible liar."

"I guess that's a compliment, right?"

"Yes, it's a very good compliment. I can't wait to see you tonight. The girls up here have been talking about some things and it made me think about you, Pedro, and me. My favorite kind of threesome."

"Ah, so you want Pedro to come out and play." I didn't know why I named my dick Pedro, but it was pretty catchy. Whenever my friends and I talked, it was always easier to say 'Pedro beat it up' or 'They're in love with the Pedro' than it was to same the same thing with the word dick. "Pedro's still recuperating from last night. If you take him off of life support, you may have to give him mouth to mouth."

"I'll give him some mouth to mouth, but if he spits at me, I may have to put him in the hole."

"I see you're getting better at innuendo."

"I learned from a good teacher." We both laughed at the conversation we'd just had. "Hey Quinton, when we first met at the DPS, what did you think about me?"

"Do you want the truth or a convincing lie?"

"You know what I want."

"When I first saw you, um, you're still going to marry me right?"

"Yes, I will still marry you. That is unless you make me really unhappy."

"The impending threat of doom does nothing for my motivation, but I'll tell you anyway. Okay," I began, "when I first saw you, I wanted to get with Teniyah. It wasn't because you weren't pretty, it was because you had such a baby face that I thought you were her little sister. Then I saw she had a ring on her finger and I promised myself that I'd never get involved with a married woman. I was about to just walk away until you showed me your ID that I believed you were older. If you hadn't shown me that ID, I can't even tell you how awful my life would've been." Teniyah was her best friend and had been for longer than I'd known Laela. Teniyah was a few inches taller than me, and I always said I couldn't date anyone taller than myself, but when I first met her the first thought that came into my head was that we'd all be the same size lying down.

"Oh you say that now? Did you really want to get with Teniyah?"

"Not after I saw the ring and only after I thought you were her little sister. You have to admit, you still look young. Even when we go out to a club, you still get carded! I've never wanted to be with any other woman like I wanted to be with you, you know that."

"I do, but I'm never going to tell Teniyah what you just said. So are there any more tidbits or any missing pieces of information that I should know?"

"Yes. I think we're strong enough to make it now, but I wanted to let you know first." I paused for dramatic effect. "I used to be a woman." She was able to hold back her laughter, but I wasn't.

"I see you've got jokes. I just wanted you to know that when I first met you, I was adamant against meeting men and it was Teniyah who told me to call you. I had just broken up with you-know-who and I was feeling a little sour about guys. After we went out, I thought about you all the time and after the first time we did it, you could've told me to rob a bank and I would've done it just to have sex again. Whew!" She suddenly exclaimed. "I'm still getting shudders thinking about it."

"I'm glad we met Laela Booker. You mean the world to me and if anything were to happen to you, I wouldn't know what to do to myself. Whenever you work nights and I don't see you in the morning when I wake up, I get worried to the point I almost get sick. I would do anything for you and I hope you feel the same way about me. You know I love you, you know how I feel and I honestly can't wait for you to be my wife."

"I love you Quinton James and I'm not sharing you with anyone else, so you better not have a side girl on deck. I know you have your faults and I have mine, but I love you so much. Just saying it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy-like inside. Tonight when I get home, I'm going to show you how much. And I know you sent these flowers to make the other girls jealous, but that's okay, you just succeeded in making my panties wet."

"I do what I do whenever I can do it."

"And tonight I'll be doing you."

Later that night when she arrived home, we had the most intense session we'd ever had since we'd been together. Damn that girl for knowing me so well.

*************

December 30 (Thursday)

"Damn, late for work." I grumbled.

I was already pissed and I hadn't even gotten to work yet. I could already tell that this was going to be a hellacious day and it was only 6:42 in the morning. Ordinarily I'd be at work by this time, but today I had to get a 'before the job starts quickie', which put me fifteen minutes behind schedule. I fumbled around the house looking for the short sleeved golf shirt and light brown khakis that I had ironed the previous night before running out of the house with my shirt off and chest exposed.

Most of the people in my neighborhood were also getting ready for work so I had no doubt that a few of them saw me running to my car with a flying shirt in tow. As I was pulling out of the parking lot, I could've sworn that our elderly neighbor, Ms. Jackson winked at me.

I weaved my gray Altima through traffic like a cop does when he sees the local Krispy Kreme 'hot donut' sign light up, trying to buy some extra minutes. I was almost pushing ninety on Highway 59, heading towards downtown Houston when the radar detector went off, alerting me of oncoming trouble. I slowed down to a meager 65 when I saw the all-black state police cruiser about a mile ahead. With his flashing lights glaring, the officer was pointing his radar gun towards oncoming traffic. I laughed at the thought that I somehow wished this upon myself and thanked the detector for small favors.

I pulled up to the parking lot of my job without much incident, but I knew the shit was going to hit the fan once I got in. I threw my shirt on, grabbed my briefcase out of the backseat, waved to everyone I knew as I walked in the building and went straight to my office. I looked at the clock: 6:56. Damn, nine minutes late, which in the business of package delivery, was a lifetime.

"Dawg. You know big lady came through lookin for you, man." That was my co-worker/ employee, BJ talking. Being from Memphis, his 'mans' always sounded likes 'mains', but I stopped trying to correct him long ago and now I was used to it. "She know you late, so don't try that smooth shit you usually be tryin, cuz it ain't gone work."

The southern, country accent was a dead giveaway, but still I jumped at the mention of 'dawg'. But that was BJ, standing in the doorway to my office, giving me the heads up about our boss, Carmen, the reigning queen in hell.

Big Lady' was a nickname for our direct supervisor, Carmen Lowell. It wasn't something we used in her presence, but when it was said, everyone got the general idea. She was the shortest and meanest woman I'd ever met and it didn't help that she was slightly overweight. No matter what she wore, she always looked like a pit bull in a dress suit and I'd be damned if that description didn't fit her to a 'T'. Her only saving grace was that she had the perfect rump that was, in my opinion, the only skill she had. Since I was a sucker for all great asses, I complemented it when I could.

Most of the people around the job believed that she'd slept her way to the top because she wasn't that bright and very anti-social. I was one of those people who firmly believed that she was more the type who threatened management with impending physical pain and they buckled like a melting girder.

"Good lookin out, man. Thanks for the update, too." BJ was a good person to be around and to have watching out for me. I was really thankful when he gave me the heads up, but BJ being at work before I had gotten there was a sure sign that was in trouble. I rushed to pull out some routine paperwork away for later and to grab some of the things that I knew I needed for the road. "Just let me put some of this stuff away so that we can get on the road."

"Better hurry man. She's on her way back around the offices to see who she can write up." He said. He seemed as worried as I was about seeing her, but he really caught me of guard when he shouted, "Oh shit, Q! Here she comes!"

I rushed to get everything where it needed to be and in the process of running out of my office, stumbled over my chair. The quick surge of pain caused me to curse my shins and hobble out the office as fast as I could only to hear roaring laughter.

BJ fell over laughing at my misfortune and his bad attempt at a joke. "I'm just fuckin witchu, dawg. She ain't comin." I thought about whooping his ass something terrible, but he always played around and I didn't know why I expected anything less of him today. "Hey Q, man, you know I'm just playin' with you, right. But on the real, I got something that I really wanted to tell you."

I glared at him after having calmed my throbbing shin down and finally let a word seethe trough my clenched teeth. "What?"

He solemnly looked at me, took a deep breath, and confessed. "I ain't never told nobody this before, but me and you we cool, right." I nodded, thinking that he had gotten himself into trouble again and wanted me to bail him out again. He continued, "I just wanted to let you know that...I take showers wit my daddy, man." He held a straight face for a couple seconds before he fell over laughing. I wanted to hit him, but I was so caught off guard that I found myself laughing as well.

We both worked for EPD or Expedited Package Delivery. BJ's was my road buddy and had been since he moved from Memphis, TN about two years ago, but his accent was still as distinct as it was the first time we spoke. I had the pleasure of meeting him on his first day at the job, and we'd been ever since.

If you were to see us from a distance, we'd mirrored each other, but up close, we're completely different. We're about the same height, and build, but that's where the similarities end. He's a dark skinned brother. Being in Memphis has given him the worn look of someone who's been in the hood too long: wearing braids all the time, donning gold teeth, a thick beard and all types of jewelry when he's off the job. He's a practical joker by nature, but since he's funny, he's allowed to get away with a lot of things that I'd never be able to.

Me, on the other hand, people call me the token pretty boy. I have more of a caramel complexion, I like my hair cut low, my face neatly trimmed, and now that I've advanced at my job, I wear a dress shirt and khakis when I'm there because looking good makes me feel good. I try to work out as often as I can and I take pride in my appearance. Some people believe its conceit, but usually those are the ones who neglect their own hygiene. I do have my vices though. I have a more serious demeanor, than most and I don't take to overbearing authority all that well.

A few weeks ago, I was promoted to manager, but I only have a semi-management position. Semi-management is just a fancy way of saying that I get to do the some of the courier job duties that I had before, but all of the paperwork that the managers don't want to do, so I'm allowed my own "office".

Hoping to avoid the queen of mean for a few hours, I was happy when we made it out to the truck without running into any trouble. Within five minutes, we were out on the road and heading towards downtown Houston.

*************

By the time we made it back to the EPD building, it had been about 5 hours. BJ jumped out the truck to get some lunch while I walked to my office to begin the day's paperwork. When I arrived, I already had 3 messages on my desk, an annoying boss staring at me and ready to yell my ears off, and it was just after noon.

When I saw her sitting in my chair, I turned to walk away when she caught me. "Q, you come back here and listen to what I have to say God-dammit." She had been fuming all morning about me being late and since she hadn't been able to curse me out earlier, her fury had bubbled over. Since I didn't particularly feel like hearing her shit today, I confessed all my wrong doings and promised to be a good little slave from now on. Content with my obedience, she left my office, and I was able to look over my messages.

My office wasn't what you'd call an office in the traditional sense. It may have consisted of four walls, a desk, and a door, but that's also where the misguiding term of 'office' ended as well. The door was consistently covered in some sort of unconquerable grime, so it always remained open, and I was surrounded by four bare turquoise walls. My desk sat in the middle of the room, and was barely six inches away from being the same sized desk I had in 8th grade. Since I didn't have any college degrees like some of the managers, or even my own nuclear family like the others, I was reduced to letting people come in and draw the occasional stick person on my wall in place of my 'pending' accomplishments. Some of them signed their names to the decorative artwork, but most of them were signed with some sort of dirty joke. I managed to relax in my soft leather chair, one I'd brought from home, which was the only saving grace in this 'office' space.

Three little, yellow post-its decorated the calendar on top of my desk, but I didn't need to see them. Being a master of predictability, I already knew who they were from. I closed my eyes, placed the cards to my forehead in the old Johnny Carson swami fashion, made my predictions.

"I see a mother, a fucker, and a motherfucker." I opened my eyes and examined the little yellow notes. It wasn't in the exact order I'd foreseen, but nevertheless, it was a perfect match. The first message I'd received came from my mother, the second from my fiancée Laela, and the final one was my best friend Andre. I smiled at the thought of me having some sort of ESP for phone messages and picked up the phone and dialed my mother, knowing that if she'd called the job, she probably wasn't happy.

"Hey ma."

"Do I know you?" She asked.

"C'mon ma, stop playing. You know it's me." She always did this when I hadn't called in a while.

"Well, I had a son that sounded a lot like you, but he hasn't called me or his father in a while, so we just assumed he either fell off the earth, into it, or got taken by the rapture. But seeing as he doesn't go to church, and we're still here, it couldn't be the rapture. You're still stuck in S-I-N, sin. Speaking of which, hurry up and get yourself married so I can get me some grandbabies?" She went on and on about other random things, but I had learned a long time ago to just pull the phone away from my ear and answer with the occasional 'Yes ma'am' and 'I understand' whenever she asked a question. "You hear what I'm telling you?!?" She always ended her soliloquy with the same question.

"Yes ma'am." And as always, my timing was perfect.

"Well then, we'll see at church tomorrow night. You need to bring in the New Year right. Are you bringing Laela with you or is she going to her own church?" She asked.

"Damn! " I thought to myself. I had no idea that I had agreed to anything with my pre-rehearsed responses, but before I could answer her question, Leslie Watson, another one of my employees, ran into my office, crouched over, and began huffing and panting like the building was on fire. "Hey ma, one of my employees just ran in, I need to call you back." She told me that she hadn't finished, but as always, I told her I lover her again and stayed on the phone until she hung up. I didn't know why I wanted to be the last to hang up, I just always did it.

As I looked her over, I noticed a few differences in her usually modest appearance. Her blue uniform shirt was hanging halfway off her frame; almost like she'd just got out of bed. Though she wasn't the best at keeping her uniform in check, it'd never been this ruffled before. Her breasts bobbed as she leaned, mostly from all the running she'd been doing in the building, and I watched them like pendulums on a grandfather clock. However disheveled she looked this morning; she was still a stunning woman. I couldn't help but question why'd she stopped in my office instead of getting to work, especially when she'd been way behind schedule.

"Uh, Leslie," I began, "what's with the track star routine? "I'd met Leslie on my first day of the job. She already had six months seniority, but was never a hard worker and that cost her in the form of advancement. When we were introduced about 5 years ago, I was single and hadn't met Laela yet, but the word around the job was that she always had man problems and carried a serious chip on her shoulder in the form of psychological issues. Sometimes when we spoke, or when I accidentally overheard her conversation, it always eluded to "...some man did this so I had to stay on his lawn and scream his name out all night" or "that nigga did that so I had to put sugar in his gas tank". If it was one thing she was good at, it was ruining my erections.

Don't get me wrong, I've never been a player. Well, almost never. I've always felt that players tend to get their lies mixed up and in the end, the lies always caught up with them. I have slept with my share of women, but my father told me that the truth can sometimes be the most natural aphrodisiac and that was one piece of advice he hadn't been wrong in administering. Sometimes I was too honest for my own damn good, and that also has its repercussions.