My life was changing and I couldn’t ever remember being this happy as an adult. The only disappointment was that I still was not talking with my pops. I wanted to share with him the big case I was working on and to have him share legal strategies with me. I talked to my mom several times and she assured me that he knew that his son was going up against Tri Tech. She didn’t say if he was proud or not. She seemed pleased when I told her about Nicole and suggested that I bring her home soon, or if I went to Arkansas with Nicole, that maybe she could talk Pops into driving to Little Rock to meet us. I told her I would get back to her on that. Before hanging up, Mom told me she loved me and that she was pleased I was happy.
Nicole had me in church every Sunday that I wasn’t working. I even attended a Bible study class with her on Wednesdays between shows. The group was made up mostly of actors and crew members of Broadway shows and they usually held it in one of the theaters. At one of the Bible study classes I became reacquainted with a dancer named Curtis Bell, whom I had met in the bars years ago. I overheard Nicole tell a friend that since Curtis had become saved, he had given up the homosexual lifestyle. For the first time since my conversion, I wondered if I could change my sexual orientation or at least redirect it. Could you give up the lifestyle and the life? With Nicole, I began to dream old dreams.
Kyle and JJ appeared to be happy with their lives. We got together on Saturday nights and cooked dinner together. JJ seemed to be really smitten with Bernard. He was roughly handsome, with cinnamon brown skin and a well-proportioned physique. He was a very likable, hard-working Southern man who had been driving a bus in New York for almost ten years. He didn’t appear uncomfortable around Kyle and me. Bernard was very comfortable with his own sexuality, so gay guys didn’t faze him in any way. To add to all these outstanding qualities, he idolized JJ and she seemed like a changed woman. She still drank, but not to excess. Kyle wasn’t dating anyone special, but he always seemed to be busy. He didn’t seem to mind when I stopped going to the Nickel and other gay bars. He just remarked, “Chile, if you want to live a confused life, then more power to you.”
On this night while we were talking about Nicole, I asked Kyle if he had ever been with a female. To my surprise he said, “Yes.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“She didn’t have a dick and mine wouldn’t work,” he laughed.
I still found myself worrying about him, but he always reassured me that everything was fine.
Nicole, JJ and Kyle had finally met, although it was quite by accident. One Saturday night after her show, Nicole dropped by unannounced. The three of us were just kicking around drinking wine, listening to music and catching up on each other’s love lives when I heard my buzzer. When Grady announced that Nicole was on her way up, panic struck. I didn’t know why I was worried, but fear hit me in a way I hadn’t felt since I was a little boy sleeping without a night-light. The sense of impending disaster became overwhelming. I begged JJ and Kyle to be on their best behavior, which I knew was going to be a difficult task, since we had been drinking all evening long. Much to my surprise, things went pretty smoothly. When Kyle saw Nicole, he ranted and raved about how beautiful she was.
“I remember you,” he said with an excited tone. “I saw you in the Miss America pageant. Girl, you should have won. You were better than all those white girls. Do you know Vanessa Williams?”
Nicole politely thanked him and told him that she did know Vanessa and that she was really a sweet lady. The two of them started to talk about Kyle designing some dresses for Nicole’s nightclub show.
I could sense that Kyle was starting to feel comfortable with Nicole and this reduced some of my anxiety. JJ was pleasant but cool. After a couple of hours Nicole left, but not before inviting Kyle and JJ to church and the closing-night party of Dreamgirls. They quickly accepted the invitation to the party and promised to get back to her on the church thing. I was certain that after Nicole had met Kyle, the gay question would come up, but it didn’t. She appeared to really like Kyle and used her beauty pageant charm with JJ. It became quite comical watching Kyle trying to appear straight. Every time he did something that appeared gay, like snapping his fingers or calling Nicole “Miss Thing,” he would put his fingers to his lip and look at me and say, “Oh, I’m sorry.” I could only smile.
While I had stopped going to gay bars, the opportunity to meet men had not ceased. Having Nicole on my arm was beginning to attract a different kind of man—a kind I would never have met in gay bars. One Friday evening at B. Smith’s we met with some of her old classmates who were visiting New York. All evening long a good-looking brother with a clean, boyish face who was with an equally attractive young lady stared at me, causing me to feel uneasy. He occasionally smiled in my direction but appeared awestruck with his date. The moment he saw Nicole and her friends leave for the ladies’ room, he came over to where I was standing. We exchanged polite conversation about the weather and all the attractive ladies at the bar. After a few minutes he pulled out a card and suggested that I give him a call and we get together to play tennis or something. He also stated that he felt that we had something in common. When I asked him what that might be, he said with a certain cockiness, “Let’s just call it charisma for now.”
“I’ve heard it called a lot of things but never charisma,” I replied. He gave me a knowing smile and returned to his companion. I crumpled up the card and laid it in a nearby ashtray. I had gotten to a point where incidents like that no longer surprised or fazed me.
One glorious Saturday afternoon when Quinn and I were spending our time together in my bedroom, I received a call from Nicole. I don’t know why, but I picked up the phone on the first ring. Usually I would let the machine pick up when Quinn was there. She said that she had something very important to discuss with me and asked if she could come up after the matinee. I got her to agree to meet me at JR instead at about six. Quinn decided he wanted to meet “this Nicole chick” and invited himself along. I reluctantly agreed and made him promise that he would stay for only one drink and then promptly excuse himself.
We reached JR and Quinn stared silently at Nicole for minutes while she and I exchanged small talk. He quickly finished his drink and said he had to run because his wife was expecting him for dinner. We exchanged warm handshakes and he asked, “Are we on for tennis next week?” Without missing a beat I replied, “Of course we are.” He gave me a suggestive wink and left.
I don’t know why I was concerned about Quinn and Nicole meeting. I mean, Quinn certainly didn’t look gay and I always thought that if they ever got to know each other, they would really like each other. It made me realize that in situations like this, men always had the upper hand. They knew about the women in their mates’ lives, but the women didn’t know about the men in their mates’ lives, at least not everything. I knew more about Quinn than his wife did.
Nicole told me that the closing notice had gone up for Dreamgirls, but the show was going on tour for about three months. She went on to explain that she had the opportunity to take one of the lead roles but was concerned with the effect her traveling would have on our relationship. She looked me directly in the eyes and asked, “Where is this relationship going?”
“Going?”
“Yes, Raymond, what are your intentions?”
“Intentions?”
“Yes, how do you feel about us?”
“Well, Nicole, you know I care for you, but …”
“But what?”
“I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. You know I’ve been so busy with my case, and uh, well … it’s something I guess I need to think about,” I said, fumbling for words.
“Well, I’m not trying to force you into anything, but I wish you would think about it. My career is important to me, but you’ve become important to me too.”
Nicole sipped her cappuccino with her beautifully shaped, sensuous mouth. I saw consternation in her face as she lowered her eyes toward the coffee cup. My own ambivalence wa
s starting to bother me. Minutes passed with both of us mute. I was wiping the cold droplets from my wineglass when Nicole said, “I’ve rented a Spike Lee movie, Mo’ Better Blues. You want to watch it tonight after the show?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, well, I’ve got half an hour, so I’ll see you later.”
Nicole grabbed her huge black leather bag, came over to my seat and planted a long, deep, sensuous kiss on my lips. As she kissed me, I felt as though she was blowing heat into my cold body; my sleeping sex began to awaken. I caressed her small hands and slowly ran my other hand up and down the small of her back through her black silk blouse and gently kissed her forehead. “Have a good show and I’ll see you later.”
Nicole didn’t say anything as she stood looking at me with her doelike eyes and sweet smile. Her face looked drained of its beautiful coffee color as she walked out the door. I sat at the table for minutes debating what to do next.
Later that night when she showed up at my apartment, we both acted as though the afternoon’s conversation had never happened. We popped corn, drank white wine and watched the movie. It played like a movie of my present life, with the lead character trying to make a choice. My situation was a little different, since Denzel was choosing between two women and I was going to have to make the choice between a man and a woman. For the first time I realized I wanted them both.
Thirteen
The sun had barely risen above the Upper West Side’s tall apartment buildings as I packed for my upcoming trip to Washington, D.C. Susan and I were going to take the Amtrak to Washington so that we could work before we reached the hotel where the depositions were going to be held. I didn’t know what to pack or how much I should take. I pulled out my best blue and gray Polo suits and three starched white shirts as I glanced at Bryant Gumbel on the “Today” show.
We could be there for a day or a week. Quinn called late the night before and said he was trying to arrange a business trip to Washington and wanted to know what hotel I was going to be staying at. I could hear hurt in his voice when I told him I was going to be too busy to spend time with him. Nicole called to wake me up, wish me good luck and sing me a soulful version of “Good Morning” from Singin’ in the Rain. She gave me Candance’s number and told me to at least call and say hello. Right before we hung up, there was a brief hush on Nicole’s end of the line.
“Nicole, are you still there?” I asked.
“Yes, I’m still here. Have a safe trip … Raymond. I love you,” Nicole said with her satin-soft voice.
“Me too,” I said as I felt my heart begin to smile. I felt good inside, but the words “Me too” evoked memories of my pops. Why was it so hard to say “I love you”?
The train ride to Washington started off very pleasantly. Susan and I went over a list of things we wanted to accomplish on the trip and sat back to enjoy the train ride. I recalled my phone call with Nicole as I glimpsed the houses that stood near the railroad tracks. The houses we passed reminded me of my old neighborhood down South. I began to think about what it would be like to have a home and children with Nicole. We shared the same ideals about the number of children we wanted and the fact that we both wanted to raise our children down South. I pressed my face against the window of the train and smiled at the thought of a little girl that looked like Nicole and a little boy that favored me and my pops.
“What are you thinking about?” Susan asked.
“Maybe you should ask who.”
“I don’t have to do that. Could it be Nicole?”
“You’re on the mark.”
“How is that working out?”
“Wonderful … marvelous. Does that give you an idea?”
“Yes sir, it does.” Susan smiled.
Susan put down the newspaper she was reading and the two of us started to talk about relationships and the office. Susan was living with a guy she had been dating for about three years and she desperately wanted to get married. “I think I might have to ask him,” she sighed.
While we were talking, I noticed an attractive black lady sitting in the seat directly across from us. She was reading something from a huge black notebook and periodically she pulled off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. It was clear that she was some type of businesswoman. The conversation with Susan was interesting and lively. We laughed out loud when we disagreed on male-female issues. Over the past months I had become very fond of Susan and found it very easy to talk to her about Nicole.
During a break in our conversation, I caught the young lady looking at me with a very sour look. I smiled and said, “Hello,” and she quickly turned her head toward the window of the train. What was that look about, I thought to myself. Did she think Susan and I were a couple? Could she tell that I was gay? Her look was one of complete disgust. At times when I got looks like the one she was giving, I had a hard time figuring out where they were coming from. There had been situations when I was with Kyle and some of his friends, and black women looked at us with pure disdain.
I had gotten similar stares while I was in high school and college. My high school was predominantly white and so were most of my friends. I went to school with whites, played sports and worked with whites. The only things I didn’t do with them were go to church and go to bed, with the exception of Margo. My family and I had always attended church in our old neighborhood. I wondered if those looks had played a role in the fact that after law school I had very few white friends. The fact was that high school offered me very few choices for black friends.
In trying to understand the young lady’s look of disapproval, I thought of how Susan and I must have looked enjoying each other’s company. Maybe she thought I was another black man who had gone to the other side. But what side would she disapprove of the most? Would her reaction have been the same if I were enjoying the same conversation with Quinn? Would she have preferred me to be dating a white woman or dating a black man? Her look disappointed me and I pulled out some briefs and studied them for the rest of the train ride. Susan took the hint and returned to her newspaper.
After three grueling days Susan and I had wrapped up our work. We felt positive that we had enough to win the case and possibly get Tri Tech to settle before going to trial. Since we were both exhausted, we decided to catch a train back to New York the following morning. When I got back to my hotel room, I was getting ready to order from room service when Kelvin and Candance crossed my mind. I looked in my wallet for the number that Nicole had given me before I left New York. I dialed the number and Candance cheerfully answered the phone. We had been conversing for a few minutes when she suggested that we meet for dinner. She informed me that Kelvin was not home from work, but she was certain he didn’t have plans and he had something important to talk with me about. She gave me the address of a restaurant in Georgetown and suggested we meet at eight o’clock. “I’m really looking forward to seeing you, Raymond. We have a lot to talk about.”
“Great. I’ll see you at eight.”
I took a quick shower and dashed downstairs to the lobby of the hotel to catch a taxi to Georgetown. We met at a restaurant called Houston’s.
It was a dark, noisy restaurant and bar located in the heart of Georgetown. When I arrived, Kelvin and Candance were waiting at the bar engaged in mutual admiration. Candance greeted me with a kiss and seemed really excited to see me, while Kelvin gave me a weak handshake and a patronizing smile. Houston’s was packed and the wait was about thirty minutes. I ordered a double vodka gimlet and the three of us stood around the mahogany bar and talked about how our workdays had gone. I told them about the big case I was working on. Candance appeared really interested and asked a lot of questions. She asked me if I ever thought about moving back South and I responded with a definite no. For a brief moment I forgot about life with Nicole. Candance was busy studying for her medical boards and Kelvin talked about spring football practice. Neither one mentioned the upcoming nuptials. By the time we were finally seated, I was beginning to feel a slight buzz.
Candance told me how excited she was about my relationship with Nicole. I smiled and noticed that Kelvin’s eyes were drifting around the restaurant, purposely avoiding my eyes. As she talked, I realized how much Candance and Nicole were alike: aggressive yet feminine, the complete embodiment of the perfect woman. They both were sophisticated but possessed unpretentious qualities that I had always admired in my mother. They would both make their man feel as though he were the only man in the world. I could understand why Kelvin had fallen in love with her. Candance’s warmth and kindness were totally genuine. Like Nicole, she was as smart as she was beautiful. What was it about women like Nicole and Candance and bisexual men? Was it because many of us were very bright and good-looking? Were we more sensitive than heterosexual men? What was it about these women that caused gay and bisexual men to forget their secret sexual desires? I asked myself the questions, but I didn’t have the answers. After finishing prime rib as thick as the tax code, the three of us ordered coffee and cognac. While I was pouring the golden-colored liquid into the piping-hot coffee, Candance started to whisper and playfully dig at Kelvin’s side, causing him to giggle out loud. I had forgotten that he was very ticklish.
“Go ahead, ask him,” Candance chided.
“Ask me what?” I inquired.
“Well, Ray … Candance and I were wondering …” Kelvin paused. The restaurant was so dimly lit that I could not see Kelvin’s eyes. His face appeared flushed and for a second he appeared at a loss for words. “We were thinking,” he continued, “that maybe … well, would you be a groomsman in our wedding?”
“A groomsman?” I asked. My stomach began to turn as Candance looked at me with a wide smile.
Invisible Life Page 15