Who's That Lady? by Andrea Jackson Read Free Book Online Page B

complained. “Greased up ghetto girl can’t even speak Ebonics,” she added.
    “Just let it go.” He kept pulling her.
    Crystal relented but yelled a parting shot. “If you spent as much time in school as you did in the beauty shop, maybe you could talk English. At least you wouldn’t’ve wasted so much money!”
    The girl came at her screaming and clawing, shiny ponytail swinging. Crystal would have stood her ground, but Key picked her up by the waist and swung her around him. “Let it go, I said!” He pushed her toward another part of the club.
    “But she took my partner. I wan’ dance.”
    “Who were you dancing with?”
    Crystal put her hands on both sides of her head to steady the room and peered at the men nearby. “Don’ know,” she admitted after a short pause.
    Key broke up laughing. “Okay, it’s time to go. Definitely.”
    “But I wan’ dance,” she wailed. She threw her arms around his neck and wiggled her hips against him. “Ooh. Like that.” She grinned at him.
    Key eased back a few steps. “We’ll dance at home.”
    A blast of cold air outside made her gasp and choke. She registered that Key was annoyed with her for some reason; then he was pushing her into the back of a vehicle. When it moved they both began to sing, “Get on boarrrrd little children/Get on boarrrrrd little children/Get on boarrrrd little children/There’s room for many mooorrrre” at the top of their lungs until someone told them to shut up or get out. She must have dozed off for a short while after that because the next thing she knew, Key was dragging her from the car while trying not to stumble himself.
    She stood upright and looked around.
    “Hey. Thish not yo’ car.”
    “It’s a cab,” he explained, pronouncing each word with care. “I’m in no condition to drive.”
    Swaying, Crystal peered up into his face. “You drunk, Key Emerson?” she demanded suspiciously.
    That cracked him up for some reason. They were both laughing helplessly when they stumbled up the stairs and into Key’s apartment.
    “Hey.” Crystal looked around the room, which was decorated in black and cream. An oversized entertainment center housing an enormous television screen dominated the room.
    “Thish—” She paused and made a conscious effort to speak clearly. “ This is not my house.”
    That had them collapsing on the soft cushions of the couch, cackling hilariously and holding onto each other.
    They leaned back against the cushions, eyes closed, in a long, companionable silence.
    Rational thought began to meander back into her brain. “Shonté sh’ be home by now,” she commented with a sigh.
    “Nope, none of that. You’re completely off duty tonight,” he said.
    She let the thought drift away. It was kind of nice to let go. She usually did the “mothering.” It was so good to be with Key. Of course she was half drunk. She smothered a weak giggle. She had laughed so much tonight that her stomach hurt.
    She might have dozed off again, but was awakened when Key struggled to his feet.
    “Ow, ow, ow,” he muttered, limping across the room.
    “Wha-wha’s wrong?” she asked mildly alarmed.
    “Little boy’s room.”
    He vanished down the hallway and she sank back into a half stupor. But when he returned, still limping slightly, she was instantly solicitous.
    “Your bur-shitis—” she hiccupped. “ Bur-si-tis botherin’ you? Lem’ see.”
    “I took some meds. Should kick in soon. And it’s tendonitis,” he corrected as he sat back down beside her.
    “Tha’s what I said,” she muttered, confused.
    “You said bursitis. Bursitis is for old folks.”
    “And?”
    He laughed. She wasn’t sure what it was about but relaxed back into easy silence. He extended his leg, propping his foot on the coffee table, and she began to massage the affected knee. He sank into the couch in contentment, closing his eyes in sleepy enjoyment.
    Since Key’s injury, she had grown skillful at home treatment on the infrequent