GobSmacked82

Whitney was determined to sleep in this morning, but a late rising wouldn’t take. Every time she began to drift off, thinking she’d get another 30 or 45 minutes, she got stuck in a strange holding pattern. She doesn’t know why this would be the case, since What’s-His-Face began sleeping in one of the guestrooms weeks ago. She ought to be relieved. Issues surrounding her marriage, as unpleasant as they were, were becoming clearer.

Whitney forgoes a lazy morning, and sits up in bed. Her husband is in his other bedroom, so she goes over to her vanity and pulls out the old copy of Hello! magazine from weeks ago. Then she sifts through other magazines and papers and finds a computer printout of a different magazine story, a scandalous one involving the guy that she held in such high esteem.
“I’m not going to rip him. I’m not going to rip him. He’s going through something, and he needs a friend, not a judge,” she tells herself. But say something she must. The man in those stories seemed weird and out of control, nothing like the kind, solid and optimistic guy that held her hand and walked her through every step of what was once the most daunting challenge of her career. So she would not rip him.

Whitney opens a drawer, pulls out an older-looking cell phone and dials quietly, checking the clock. After a few rings, a man picks up.
Kevin: Well, well, prom queen. Good morning.
Whitney: Morning, Kevin.
Kevin: What is new?
Whitney: Oh, everything is pretty much the same with me. You’ve been busy, though.
Kevin: (Sounds like he’s stretching) Oh, yeah. I’ve been … I’ve been in the news lately. It sucks not to have anonymity sometimes.
Whitney: Well, I want you to know two things. First, I sent you a wedding present. And we need to pray about this whole thing.
Kevin: We need to pray about the present? I’m sure it’s not that bad, Whitney.
Whitney: Ha, ha. Just stop it. We need to pray about the song and the whole thing in Scotland.
Kevin: (Groans and winces) Umm, no. Not really; I don’t need prayer. Prayer is for when you want clarity or your looking for an answer to a situation. I already know what my answer is … or was for this situation.
Whitney: Kevin, I’m talking about some serious stuff. The guy I’m reading about in the papers is NOT MY KEVIN. Something happened.
Kevin: I really don’t believe this.
Whitney: Don’t believe what?
Kevin: NOW you claim Kevin? Your timing is horrible. The wedding was weeks ago, and now you’re talking about your Kevin. The whole thing is un-believeable.
Whitney: Kevin, don’t even start with me this morning. It is too early for your foolishness, and nonsense, OK? DON’T LET ME HAVE TO GO IN ON YOU, KEVIN.
Kevin: You do not have a quiet voice, Whitney.
Whitney: I ain’t even had no coffee, no muffin, no juice, just a drop of water from my fridge in my room. I got up early, AS A FRIEND to try and help stop you from looking like this crazy person they keep talking about in the papers. ‘Cause that’s not my Kevin. I’m up here early as can be, and all because you have be up at dark-thirty every morning and can’t take a phone call from Whitney past twelve o’clock.
Kevin: Whoa!! What happened?
Whitney: Your wedding happened, you blue-eyed, nasty, tryna get down with the Brown Sugah HAPPENED!
Kevin: (Heaves a huge sigh) I have no idea what you’re saying. One minute you’re talking about food, muffins and the next my wedding was all wrong?
The sound of paper being rifled through and violently tossed around leads to Whitney reading from Hello! She reads the part about the song.
Kevin: So? People read too much into that sort of thing. You’re the only one hung up on that part.
Whitney: Kevin, we know how this works. That reporter had a thousand other details to put in the story. Cake, flowers guests, blah blah. But ‘Brown Sugar’ by the Rolling Stones? And errrybody knows what that song is about.
Kevin: It’s a fun song, and that’s why I picked it. Can’t a guy just rock out on his wedding day?
Whitney: Sure he can. Absolutely, he should. But not to THAT SONG! IT too much about sex with black girls. If you wanted a Rolling Stones song, why not “Satisfaction.”
Kevin: I like ‘Brown Sugar.’
Whitney: Oh, we know that. Mr. ‘I picked Whitney because Diana Ross was the first girl I fell in love with.’ Answer me this? Which black girl do people always connect you with.
Kevin: Diana Ross.
Whitney: (Makes a ‘wrong’ buzzing sound.) NO! You make that connection. The reality is that when people think about you and black women, they think about you and me. Point blank, period.
Kevin: Stop flashing your hands around. I can tell you’re doing that. And you’re beginning to talk really fast. Just listen to me, Whitney. I picked that song because it’s a rocking piece of badass classic rock. And I wanted to have fun on my wedding day. No other reason, and nobody else noticed.
Whitney: I guarantee you some smart cookie is out there putting the dots all together. Because you KEEP ON dropping crumbs all over the place. Oh! We need to pray, Kevin. Right now. That’s what I called to do.
Kevin: We’re not praying. There is no issue, except for your timing, which is from another planet.
Whitney: Oh, somebody wants to get testy now.
Kevin: Just answer this question: Are you miffed that I got married?
Whitney: That’s a silly question. I’m not your ex or your kids. It’s not my place to get ‘miffed’ that you got married again. And you’re sidetracking me. What about this stuff about Scotland?
Kevin: Don’t listen to that. I don’t know why my name was dragged into that mess.
Whitney: Kevin, I don’t want to pick apart the facts. I didn’t call to judge you. I called to pray.
Kevin: Well, then if you pray, I need you to answer my question.
Whitney: Deal.
Kevin: Go, baby.
Whitney: Father God, I throw myself at the Throne of Mercy and sincerely pray that you will strengthen, cover and pro-tekt my Kevin, in the name of Jesus! LORD GOD! Keep him, honey. Send your ministering angels, so that he can withstand in the evil day, Father God. Send those angels to deal with the diverse, pesky, lusty spirits and heffas looking to sift my Kevin, Father God. And the brown sugar song, Lord. You know he’s lying about that, Father God.
Kevin: Hey!
Whitney: (Ignores the outburst.) But for the sake of his beautiful children, do not strike him or smite him, Father God. And we ask these mercies, Amen.
Kevin: That was something else, deaconess.
Whitney: Very funny. Ha, ha.
Kevin: No, really. I thought you were going to fall out, speaking in tongues, and we’d have to fetch the nurse at the church.
Whitney: Can you please take this seriously? This is your name and your family and all that. No matter what happened between us in the past, you my boy. You know that Kevin is the bomb, as far as me, Krissy, Cissy and Dionne go. You know?
Kevin: Yeah, I know.
Whitney: And it’s one thing if I have to rip you a new one for your out of order behavior and COMMENTS, from time to time. But you are MY blue-eyed, nasty freak, and nobody else’s. You feel me? And if anybody tries to talk smack about you, well. It’s time to throw fists.
Kevin; That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Whitney. And speaking of that. You need to answer my question. Are you upset over news about my wedding?
Whitney: Ummm? You know what? My stomach is growling, and I’m getting a headache.
Kevin: Yeah, but you haven’t …
CLICK!!