What He's Been Missing

“Oh, Erskine, mind your business!” Mrs. Dupree cut in. “She’ll get married when she pleases! Right?”

“Yes,” I said, happy she’d stopped me.

She leaned in and whispered in our trio, “I was hoping Ian would marry you! Perfect match, if you ask me.”

“And no one asked you!” Mr. Dupree said.

Mrs. Dupree frowned at him and continued with a speech about the connection she’d seen between Ian and me since she’d met me during Parent’s Weekend freshman year at FAMU.

“When Ian called and said he was getting married, I just knew who he was talking about,” she concluded before the suite door swung open and loud noises broke up our little meeting. “I’d’ve been proud to have you as my daughter-in-law.”

“Thank you,” I said in my business voice to avoid crying and shaking in her arms. I turned to the source of the noise and excused myself with a nod. “I’m sure these are the groom’s men.”

Xavier Hamilton had been Ian’s roommate all four years in undergrad. He was a lion-hearted Chicagoan whose voice could always be heard before he was seen. With a big laugh and bigger biceps, he didn’t have to do much to attract the girls Ian had ignored. And after he made drum major of the Marching 100, no one could tell him anything. He became the unofficial king of campus.

Now he was easily the center of attention in the middle of the spectacle of fine men in casual suits that interrupted the moderated chatter in the suite. An unlit cigar in his hand, he was laughing the loudest and clearly in the middle of some tawdry tale that had the men around him at attention. I literally felt the women in the room strike a pose to look at him.

Jennifer, one of the women from Scarlet’s birthday party, whose boyfriend was standing beside Xavier, started playing with her earring and whispered something to the woman beside her.

“Rachel Winslow! The baddest chick on the Yard!” Xavier said, coming over to me. He grabbed three shrimp from a platter and devoured them as he hugged me.

Jennifer kept whispering.

“Hey, X,” I said. “Don’t get on me. You were the true player!”

“Well, you know how I do!” Xavier grinned and looked right at my breasts—right through my dress.

“Yeah, I’ve heard.” I’d actually met Xavier before I met Ian. He’d been standing outside the freshman girls’ dorm when I was moving in and asked me to lunch. He took me to a wing’s spot off campus and refused to pay for my food until I kissed him. I didn’t, and I never heard from him again. When we realized we had Ian in common, he decided it was OK for him to be my friend, even though I hadn’t kissed him. He’d moved onto bigger fish by then. Still, he made it a point to make a pass at me whenever he saw me.

“The million-dollar lady! I see you set this shit up real proper like for our boy!”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I lied.

“I can’t believe this fool is getting married. But I saw Scarlet. She’s banging.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s reason enough to marry her,” I joked, turning to be sure Ian’s parents didn’t hear Xavier’s foolishness. Luckily, they’d moved on to chat up Ian’s uncle, Uncle Cat, who was a spectacle all his own.

“So what’s going on with you? You breaking motherfuckers’ hearts in the A? I know they stay on their knees for you,” Xavier said. He owned two McDonald’s on the southside of Chicago and had an MBA from Wharton, but he’d kept his hood and swagger. It amounted to this rare mix of street corner and boardroom shine, with deep pockets and charm to back it up. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t sexy. But he was still Xavier and my side eye on him from the first flop at the wing spot was permanent.

“I do OK,” I replied.

“No ring, though.” He pointed at my naked ring finger. “I guess you’re still available.” Xavier looked at my breasts again and slid the cigar into Chapstick-shiny lips.

“Baybee girl, baybee girl! Look at those thick legs!” Uncle Cat invited himself into the conversation just as Krista popped her head into the suite to signal for me to come outside. We always escorted the bride and groom into the welcoming reception with the best man and matron of honor.

“Hi, Uncle Cat!” I said while signaling to Krista that I’d need a minute. “So glad to see you.”

“Well, prove it to me!” Uncle Cat, who got his name on account of his metallic gray and green eyes, pulled me into an uncomfortably familiar embrace. A fifty-year-old ladies’ man who had five children by five different women, he was a creole cliché. Slick hair and vanilla skin with not one wrinkle to show his age, he had an easy accent that made you want to hear him speak. The joke was that you couldn

’t look into his eyes. Then you’d be the next baby mama, sure enough.

“Oh!” I wiggled around in his arms as Xavier got a peek at my butt.

“Nice and thick,” Uncle Cat said.

“Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Ain’t no other way to take it where I’m from.”