by S. Ann Cole
He was quiet and pensive, prompting me to wonder what he was thinking about. He dropped his head in his hands and began rubbing his temples with his thumbs. Something was wrong. Did he remember I was still beside him?
He spoke before I could ask. “I heard you had an accident and your car was totaled. Do you have a ride home?”
Tico is such a blabber! I’m going slit his frickin’ tongue. “Yes. My friend, Kash, always takes me home.”
He nodded, then a minute later he lifted his head to face me. His impassivity was superseded by some other expression I couldn’t quite discern. Care? Concern? Compassion? “Are you okay otherwise?’’
I nodded.
“In every way, you are okay?”
A nod repeated.
“Are you sure?”
Jeez. What’s it to him? Maybe I should just leave, he was much too bewildering. And the fact that I desired him prompted me to question my sanity. I nodded again in reply and rose to my feet. “I should get going.”
His mouth opened as if to object but then he evidently resigned himself. “Yeah. Okay.”
Taking out his wallet, he withdrew seven crisp one hundred dollar bills and handed them to me.
“No. This is too much,” I rejected. I wasn’t even going to charge him.
“No. It’s not. You’ve been good company. Besides, seven is my favorite number at the moment.”
Huh? “Gratis. I haven’t even given you a dance. We’ve been—”
“Please take the damn money and don’t argue with me,” he snapped.
Shell-shocked at his tone, I glowered at him, unable to speak.
He ran a hand through his hair and softened his expression. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “That’s what I want to pay. It’s not too much. In fact, it’s too little.”
“But what if I don’t want it?”
“Then I’ll find some other way to get it to you. You can either take it from my hands now or get conned into taking it from someone else. And it will be doubled by then.”
Someone else like Tico, I’m sure.
I glared at this disparate male in confusion before capitulating. What an odd man. And one who’s too handsome for his own good.
As I made to leave I realized that he hadn’t requested my number. Given his inexplicable familiarity, I considered the possibility that he already had it, but I decided not to risk the opportunity of a job interview. “You didn’t take my number.”
He looked up at me through his too-long lashes, and for the first time since I’d been here, he smiled. A disarming, I-can-make-you-cum-like-this smile. My, my, he is such a fine specimen.
Disappointment suddenly jabbed at me. It’s been a millennium since I’ve been this attracted to anyone. But this man wanted only friendship. And on top of that he scares the living daylights out of me and confuses me to the point of brain pain.
“I’ll give you mine,” he said smoothly. He reached inside his jacket pocket for a business card and proffered it. But when I reached for it, he frowned at some unknown thought and retracted, returning the card from whence it came. “I’ll voice it.”
I shook my head at his umpteenth bewildering action for the night, took out my cell phone and transcribed the numbers to my phone as he said them. My cell phone prompted me for a name and I realized then that I’d been chattering with the man, agreeing to friendship, accepting favors, lusting, and I didn’t even know his name. “Um, I didn’t get your name.”
Smile number two was even more beguiling. He leaned forward with his palms flat on his thighs, just as he’d done earlier, fixed his eyes on mine and breathed, “Natalio.”
And I couldn’t, for the life of me, command my eyes to leave his. Why did he say his name like that? Hope-filled and promising. This man is…I don’t know.
Once again, I couldn’t shake the thought that he was trying to tell me something with his eyes. But what? I shook my head to clear it, entered his name and saved the number. My ears were not oblivious to his heavy sigh as he leaned back on the banquette.
Unable to utter another syllable to this mystifying man, I exited the booth and strolled with purpose through the lights-flashing, music-pumping club. Resisting the urge to look back at the perplexing Mr. Mysterious in Black who wanted only to be my friend.
Chapter Four
I was clothed in white. All-white. And there was a crown of Lilies upon my head. I was standing on a river bank, gazing at the cascading waterfall. The sound was heavenly and the skies above me were clear. More temperate the weather couldn’t have been. Whiter than snow were the clouds, and its bluest blue was the sky. The water splashed the river bank, asking me to trust it. So I stepped from the bank and into the river. It was soothing, and clear. Very clear. I stared at my feet in the transparent water, then wiggled my toes. Whisperingly, the water responded. It pleaded for my trust, and I yielded. I waded deeper into the cool river water, spread my arms and fell back. The river caught me, assuring me of its virtue, and sent me afloat. Away I floated, dressed in all-white, my arms spread wide…
My eyes flickered open. Wow, that has got to be the most peaceful dream I’ve ever had in my life. With a resident smile, I swung out of bed. My mood was much more favorable than yesterday’s. Glancing at my bedside clock, I noted it was almost noon.
The doorbell rang and I knew, without doubt, that it was Kelsy. On a moan, I slugged myself from the bedroom, down the hall and through the living room. My fingers had scarcely turned the doorknob when Kelsy, my dear friend, barged in.
“Hey, grumpy,” she lilted as she popped a gum bubble.
“Sup, nuisance? Where’s Tev?” I yawned, rubbing my eyes.
She plopped herself on the couch and switched on the television. “Working.”
I snorted. “Working or hustling?”
Kelsy shrugged. “Same difference.”
Excusing myself, I disappeared to the bathroom to freshen up and popped a Ginko biloba pill down my throat. It was a medication I took each day to hopefully help me with my memory. You see, my father used to be an abusive man to both my mother and I. And seven years ago, he’d whacked me in the head with a baseball bat, which had sent me into a two-day coma. I’d woken up with retrograde amnesia, not remembering anything that’d happened prior to the head injury. Although my doctor had told me that recalling events close to the injury was rare or unlikely, as years went by pieces of my memory sluggishly came back to me. Doctors say that it may not be my memory but my imagination. But don’t they all think they know everything? Even my own damn memory? What do they have to say to people who just become miraculously healed from deathly illness like cancer? My thought about doctors is simply this: they are not God.
I knew they were my memories, because people from my past had confirmed the events I recalled as true and exact. Which is how I remembered that the reason I’d been battered by my father—may the devil torture his hellacious soul—was because I’d slept out when I was only seventeen years of age. It had happened the morning after that night. That night that I was glad my memory refused to jog down.
I plodded back into the living room where Kelsy was sprawled on the sofa watching some crappy MTV reality show. The apartment that I shared with my absent roommate was a luxurious one and was more than I should’ve been able to afford. But my roommate, Brenda, was another rich gal like Kelsy, and her moneybag parents had bought her the place. Through mutual friendship with Kelsy, she charged me rent for less than what it’s worth.
It screamed modern, with high end furniture and appliances. My bedroom was big enough to be divided into two bedrooms for a regular-sized apartment, and my bathroom was half that size. Yep, I slept on a king-size bed, watched a fifty-inch flat-screen television and cooked in a gourmet-style kitchen. One would never believe I was up to my neck in debts with the way I dwelled. All the people around me were prosperous, except me. I was just a sponger. Funny, isn’t it?
Making my way into the kitchen, I opened the cupboards on my side, scanning
the contents. Ramen Noodle would have to suffice. Eking on my paltry stipend, I’d have to top up on groceries later. I set a mug of water in the microwave to heat.
“So what’re ya plans for today?” Kelsy asked from the living area.
“Staying in and sketching. Creating a profile is in thought.”
Kelsy turned to look at me, folding her arms on the edge of the sofa and resting her chin atop. “What brought that on?”
To my surprise, I blushed. Uh, what the heck? “I have this, um, friend who knows some grand designer and has offered to get me a job interview.”
Kelsy raised a neatly shaped brow, her interest piqued. “A friend? Do I know this friend?”
“No, I met him last night.”
“Him?”
“Yes, Kelsy. The new acquaintance is a ‘him’.”
“And do you normally blush like that when you talk about friends that are ‘hims’?” she asked, her raised brow residing. “I’ve never seen you that scarlet when you talk about Tev, and I’d kill you if that happened.”
With a roll of my eyes, I confessed, “Okay Kelsy, I admit, I’m attracted. He’s damned hot. And I mean panty-seat-goes-wet-on-the-spot hot!”
“But?”
“He just wants to be friends,” I shrugged.
“Oh.” Kelsy frowned. “Odd.”
“Yes, oh and odd.” Every darn thing about the man was odd. I wondered if he also had an odd—
The microwave beeped and dragged me from thoughts that were about to take a stroll down naughty lane. I poured hot water in my Ramen cup soup and went to sit beside Kelsy on the couch. She looked distracted. “You okay, sis?”
She shook her head. “Dad’s buying me an apartment. He says it’s time for me to wake up, go out, and learn to live on my own. I’m scared.”
My eyes assessed my beautiful, dark-haired, fraternal sister whose major worry was living on her own. Mr. Mitchell, her father, was a known oil tycoon, her mother prospered in the architectural field and Kelsy sat lazily with her MBA. She’d obediently gone through college and acquired such only to appease her parents. She was, like me, an only child. And she simply lived in luxury. Whatever she desired was dropped in her palm before she even completed a sentence of request. But her father was right, she needed to step out into the world and endeavor to be her own woman. She was highly educated, intelligent and fluent when needs be. But she just didn’t possess an ambitious spirit. Maybe if she had a sibling to contend with, then she might have pushed to do something. Being around a hustler—Tevin—and an unemployed, aspiring designer—myself—twenty-four-seven, gives no inspiration to do better. “Your father’s right, Kels. You’re a spoiled brat.”
She folded her arms and pouted. Point made.
“Your daddy won’t be around forever. You need to learn to make good decisions and so far, you suck at it—just like me. You have the opportunity to choose. Many people, like myself, don’t. I’ve told you in his presence and in his absence that Tev is bad for you.” I set my cup soup on the coffee table and took her hand in mine. “Look at what happened to Cali D. I could have been there and I could have been dead, too. Learn from my mistake, Kelsy. I love Tev to death but he’s unhealthy.”
Tevin had been my friend and brother for six years. He’d been Cali D’s right-hand man when I met him. Because he had been there to keep my company when Cali D wasn’t, we’d grown extremely close. But the greedy ingrate that Cali D was known to be, had eventually caused him and Tevin to become enemies. Tevin and I had retained our growing friendship, nevertheless.
One day while he was giving me a lift from college, we’d seen this bodacious beauty on the roadside who’d looked pissed and annoyed that her CLK tire had gone flat. Tevin had pulled over to her aid, and for them, it was love at first sight. They were instantly drawn to each other and became inseparable. Kelsy and I had grown to become best friends and uncleavable, also.
Kelsy stared at me with wet green eyes, then she swung her arms around me. “I know. I know he’s bad. But I love him too much to give him up. I worry a lot that something might happen, like what happen to Cali D. But I just can’t…I love Tev.”
“I know you do. Let’s just invoke a divine intervention for him and hope his interruption to Damascus is near,” I soothed, knowing that was next to impossible. Tevin had made it clear a zillion times that he wanted no other life. There are some bad guys that want desperately to be good and some bad guys that are just…bad guys.
“Will you move in with me when I get the apartment?” Kelsy asked. “Gratis. No rent.”
I laughed. “I’ll think about it. I’m already disgusted with you and Tev here tongue bathing each other around the clock. Living with it? I’d be repulsed.”
“Let’s go shopping. I need to lift my spirit.” She wiped the tears from her brilliant green eyes.
Shopping. Yes, I needed fabrics and a few apparatuses to start working on my profile. “Sure.”
Rife with shopping bags, we lugged our tired selves back into the apartment. Whisked. I’d forgotten how draining it could be when shopping with Kelsy. “Did you really need to get all those stuff?” “Yes,” she chirped. “Now I’m happy.”
Flopping down on the sofa in exhaustion, I jerked when my cell phone went abuzz. The number wasn’t one I recognized.
“Hello?”
“I knew I couldn’t trust you to call me,” a deep, melodic voice said on the other end with no preamble whatsoever. I didn’t recognize the voice either.
“Uh, I’m sorry, who is this?” Please say ‘Natalio, from the club’.
“It’s Devon. I met you at the coffee shop yesterday? You told me you’d call, but you didn’t.”
Hope balloon deflated.
It was that handsome guy from Starbucks. I’d forgotten all about him. “How did you get my number? I didn’t give it to you.”
“I gave it to myself,” he replied simply.
“Huh?”
“It’s an old trick, Sadie. When I entered my number into your phone, I rang it. So that’s how I got it. I had a feeling you wouldn’t call and I didn’t want to lose contact with you. You have me mesmerized.”
“Oh,” I said, wondering how I’ve never heard of that trick before. How presumptuous.
“Sadie,” he said, in all seriousness. “I really like you and I would love to see you again. Is that possible? Please don’t say no.”
“You tricked me into getting my number. How did you know I wouldn’t swear at you and tell you to take a hike?”
“Because you are too sweet for that. Your lips are much too beautiful to do abominable things like swearing.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Devon.” This guy had some of the most rinsed-out, clichéd lines. No one ever taught him how to woo a woman?
He chuckled. “I’m an aging squirrel and you’re a tough nut to crack. Let me try again.” He cleared his throat. “Roses are red, violets are blue, I’m deeply attracted to you, but you think I’m full of…poo?”
A smile crawled onto my face as I shook my head. This guy…
“I can sense you smiling on the other end,” he said in a sing-song tone. “So how did I do? Well enough get a date with you?”
“Yes,” I agreed. I had no plans beyond sketching, I dreaded a dull evening and I needed a diversion from the plaguing thoughts of that Natalio figure from the club.
“How about dinner this evening?” he suggested.
“Will it be at some fancy restaurant?”
“Um, yes.”
What was it with guys always trying to be impressive, being pretentiously romantic? Only to turn out being complete dick-heads in the end.
“Then no,” I clipped.
He was silent for a moment. “Where would you like to go?”
“Somewhere ordinary. A nice chill spot would be good.”
“Okay. I know just the place. I’ll pick you up at eight?”
“Sure. I’ll text you my address.”
I ended the call, smi
ling.
“Who was that?” the inquisitive Kelsy asked as she tested her new wild cherry lip gloss, puckering her lips in the make-up compact.
“A handsome guy who’s interested in being more than just friends.” My answer was a tad bitter, and I realized that it was because I was still seething at my rebuffing from Mr. Mysterious in Black.
Devon and I were seated in the far corner of a swanky chill bar. Designed of stainless steel and glass, with neon blue lights and white seating, creating a luxurious ambience. At the last minute, I’d changed from my first choice of casual jeans and tank top to a purple close-fitting V-neck dress. Had I not done so, I would’ve been underdressed for this sporting. Devon had commented, repeatedly, on my dress and my beauty and my legs. Nice. But for some reason, his compliments didn’t aggrandize my confidence.
I sipped on Blue Label and Coke, while he sipped Crown Royal on the rocks. As the evening progressed, I learned that Devon Morris was single with no kids, and owned a construction company. Everything else was just boring, boring, boring, mundane banalities, while I responded to his monotonous chatter with the occasional “Hmm,” “Really?” “Impressive”, “Ah, I get it”, “Interesting”. I resisted succumbing to my boredom twitches, which were: inspecting my nails or rubbing my neck.
Devon was unquestionably handsome, sweet and flattering. The pull-your-chair-out kind of guy. He embodied all that a woman would tick the box for in a man. But for me, he was…innocuous. Nothing beyond his physical appearance attracted or intrigued me. I’m a girl who’s, strangely so, inclined to people that are a bit out of kilter. Don’t ask me why, I just am.
He would ask me out again, I knew. And I would agree. I’d try again because the problem might not be him, but me. At this crappy point in my life, I knew I was distracted on all levels.
“Oh man,” I heard Devon say, dragging me from…wherever I’d drifted off to. “Seems this wasn’t the best to place to chill this evening, after all.”
“What?” I asked, belatedly noticing that the noise level in the bar had turned up.