When Baldwin Loved Brenden by Electa Rome Parks

Author:Electa Rome Parks [Parks, Electa Rome]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: United States, Urban, Contemporary Fiction, Urban Life, African American, Genre Fiction, Literature & Fiction
Amazon: B00B1W3Q9I
Publisher: Urban Renaissance
Published: 2013-02-02T05:00:00+00:00

Around eight o’clock the girls drifted downstairs in their pajamas and thick thermal socks. Bria had on a head scarf with a red, blue, and orange pattern.

It’s like a funeral up in this joint,” Bria declared, plopping down on top of my outstretched legs.

“Damn, Bria! It’s not like you weigh ninety pounds anymore,” I said, pulling my legs from beneath her.

“Owww,” Brenden shouted, biting down on his hand and trying not to laugh.

“So what are you trying to say, Christopher?” Bria asked. “I’m listening. Do share.”

“Nothing, Wild Child. Only that I love you,” I said in my most sincere voice.

Bria gave her signature “Fuck you” look, which I had almost forgotten about. “As I was saying, Rihanna would not want us to be walking around depressed with sour faces.”

We knew it was the truth, but it was easier said than done.

“Look at us,” Bria said. “We look like we have lost our best friend.”

“Well, we have,” Baldwin piped in. “We have lost our best friend.”

Bria rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. It’s a figure of speech. I know this sounds crazy, but I had a weird dream upstairs. Rihanna came to me, and she was healthy and happy. She had a beautiful smile on her face, and she told me to tell you guys to celebrate her life, not mourn it.”

We didn’t doubt the dream for a minute, because we had all experienced her spirit at one point or another in the past few days.

“Christopher, turn on some music,” Baldwin said. “I’ll get the wineglasses. Bria, grab the wine and beer.”

And just like that, we celebrated Rihanna.

“Let’s dance, Christopher,” Bria said, reaching for my hand. “Let’s see if you still have some moves.”

“Oh yeah, I got your moves,” I said, snapping my fingers and breaking out a dance from back in the day. “Remember the Carlton?”

Bria reciprocated.

“That’s all you got for me, Bria? Come on now. You can do better than that,” I teased, breaking into the Jiggy.

“Go, Bria. Go, Christopher. Go, go, go,” Baldwin chanted.

Bria attempted to have a dance off as we did various dance moves from our younger days. The Tootsie Roll, the Butterfly, and Da Dip all made appearances.

Baldwin and Brenden sat on the sofa, cracking up.

“You guys are still hilarious,” Brenden shouted over the music.

“Rihanna would love this, all of us together again,” Baldwin said.

“Here’s to Rihanna,” Brenden declared, clinking his beer can to Baldwin’s wineglass and then rising to do the same to me and Bria.

“Boy, if you don’t stop stepping on my feet!” Bria screamed a few minutes later, attempting to walk away.

“Come back here, girl,” I said, jerking Bria back onto the makeshift dance floor we had created by pushing the coffee table back toward the door.

That night we danced and drank and acted like complete fools. At some point, I exited the makeshift dance floor to grab more beer. I opened one for myself, passed one to Bria, and then collapsed on the love seat next to her, with my head in her lap.

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