Miasha - Secret Society

“This’ll only take a minute, trust me. I think you need to get tested for HIV.”

“What are you talking about, Tariq? I mean, really, I have somebody on my other line,” I said, totally oblivious to what he said.

“I was tested positive for HIV, Celess, and it’s only fair that I make the necessary calls to the people I may have infected.” He paused. “Or may have infected me.”

I held the phone to my ear but said nothing. I didn’t click back over to Tina. I didn’t want to burden her with some bullshit while she was on her honeymoon. I didn’t even respond to Tariq. I just sat there in dead silence, holding the phone to my ear. I heard Tariq saying hello. I even heard the dial tone that phones make when they are off the hook. But I still held the phone to my ear waiting-waiting for a voice to yell, “Wake up.”

“Beverly Hill.” The nurse called out the false name I gave her.

I stood up after first hesitating and followed the nurse through the door.

“Have a seat,” she said.

I sat in the chair that was placed against a wall. I looked around the small room. There were needles, plastic gloves, containers, and charts scattered about. There were brochures and posters on the walls warning people of HIV and AIDS. Chills went up my spine just from reading the information.

“Roll up your sleeve, please,” she said as she dampened a cotton ball with alcohol.

I began to do as I was told. I took off my jean jacket and placed it in my lap. Then I proceeded to unbutton the cuff on my blouse. I looked very plain that day. I was not flashy at all. I had my reasons, though. I was feeling down for one, and for two I was trying to be as incognito as possible.

“Understand that if the results of this test come back negative, we still recommend you get another test six months from now. This test will only show results as of six months ago, which means that if you’ve come in contact with the virus within the past six months it won’t show up in this test,” the nurse said as she dabbed my arm with the cotton ball.

“Whatever,” I mumbled.

I didn’t have an attitude. It was just that I was deep in thought. I kept thinking about all of my risky behavior and how that might wind up ending my life. My only worry had been dudes finding out I was a gay man. Never did I worry about getting AIDS, even though it was common among gay guys. But all the dudes I messed with were straight-well, most of them. Plus they were all clean and getting money. They weren’t scrub-ass corner boys who put their dick in everything. But come to think about it, that damn O had bitches around every corner and it’s no telling how many men he might have had. Shit, he was bound to have one dirty dick.

“You know, AIDS is not a death sentence,” the nurse said as she tapped my arm in search of a vein. “Many people are uneducated about it and therefore they’re scared of it. They’re scared to get tested and so they spread it-not intentionally, though, but they do it unaware that they even have it. That’s why, believe it or not, you taking the first step and getting tested is a good thing. It’s the best thing.”

“Ouch,” I said as she stuck me with the needle.

I had my face frowned up from the pain as I was looking at my blood fill the needle. The nurse removed the needle, stored the blood, and wiped my arm with an alcohol pad. She then placed a cotton ball over the tiny needle mark and taped it to my arm.

The whole time I sat silently thinking about Michael. What if I’d fucked around and given him some hot shit? It’s one thing for a trifling nigga to give it to me, but it’s a whole other story for me to give it to somebody, especially somebody like Michael. After all he’d done for my trifling ass, I thought.

“Make an appointment to come in for your test results in two weeks, okay?” the nurse instructed me, interrupting my thoughts.

“Yes.”

“Have a good one,” she said.

As I was leaving the clinic I noticed everybody looking at me with shame. It was as if they knew something I didn’t. They looked like they pitied me. The truth was I pitied them for having to live in a world with people like me.

“Say HO-OH! HO-OH! Say HO-HO! HO-HO!” the loud echo sounded.

Power House was the perfect place to celebrate my clearance. My test had come back negative and I wasn’t worried about that six-months shit because I hadn’t fucked Tariq within the past six months, so I figured I was cool. I was backstage getting nice off of Alizé red. I was sitting alone in a room with like a thousand groupies, some lucky fans, and a few lingering security guards. My eyes were burning from the thick weed smoke that filled the air. Rappers and members of their entourages would pass by occasionally and peep in. The groupies would go crazy, and it never failed that at least one would get gripped up by a big three-hundred-pound guard and get thrown out the door. I just kept my cool. I wasn’t after the rappers or their homies, anyway. I was after the promoters. Promoters were easier to get to and played fewer games. Tina taught me that it was the promoters who paid the entertainers, so if anybody was holding, it was them. Plus, rappers’ heads were too swelled, so they liked to take girls on joyrides, and a lot of times girls ended up fucking for nothing except bragging rights. Not me.

“Where’s the bathroom?” I asked the big guard at the doorway.

“Right down the hall on your left,” he said, pointing in the direction.

I went into the bathroom to check my makeup. I was okay, but I needed to reup on my lipstick courtesy of the numerous cups of Alizé. I figured I would linger in the bathroom for a while until it was time to make a move.

Close to the end of the show, right before people flooded the hall, I approached this dude who was walking past me. His eyes were glued to mine even though he walked by swiftly.

“Excuse me.” I hollered out. “Where is the exit?” I asked as if I was lost.

“This way. Why?” he said, looking back at me.

“Well, if you lead, can I follow?” I asked.

“I’m not going to the exit yet, sweetheart,” he said hurriedly.

“I didn’t say you were,” I said, walking toward him. “Go ’head,” I said. “I can keep up.”

The guy raised his eyebrows and looked at the guy who was with him. I could tell neither of them was used to somebody like me coming at them, because I took them by surprise.

“I’m not no star, sweetheart,” the guy said with a chuckle.

“I can make you one,” I said, smiling.

“As flattered as I am, I have to turn down your offer. I’m in a rush,” he said as he started to walk away.

I heard the other guy mumble, “I don’t believe you turned that away.”

So I commented, “Some people already have it all.”

The guy stopped walking and turned back to face me. He shook his head. “You’re hurting me, sweetheart. Got damn, you are.”

“Just tell me when and where to meet you,” I said.

“Two at Four Seasons, suite twenty sixteen.”

I smiled and watched him and the other guy continue their brisk walk to the end of the hall. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure he was a promoter, but he was somebody, and my instincts were telling me to ride.

I went to the South Street Diner to pass time. I ordered the hungry woman breakfast and pigged out. It was packed. I was alone. I was thinking about Michael and how I would much rather have been with him that night, cuddling and making love, watching a few flicks, and maybe playing a game of Scrabble. Yeah, I guess I was falling in love. But I was missing the other stuff that I had been faithful to for four years-the different ballers, the one-night stands, the money, the flash, the fun, the rush. I wanted it bad. And this was the perfect opportunity to get it back, while Michael was away working on a contract.