by Cheryl Faye
As he turned away from the bar sipping an Absolut and 7-Up, Marsha Williams and a very attractive woman who appeared about her same age, approached him. “Stefàn, sweetheart, I’ve been looking all over for you. I want you to meet my dear friend, Jeannette Lucas. Jeannette, this is the man I was telling you about, Stefàn Cooper.”
Trying to put Charisse’s unpleasant disposition out of his mind, Stefàn immediately turned on the charm as he greeted Marsha’s friend. “Miss Lucas, pleased to meet you,” he said as he took her hand and kissed it.
“Please don’t insult me by calling me Miss Lucas. My name is Jeannette,” she stated boldly, and with a look that let him know, in no uncertain terms, she found him quite attractive with his torso exposed and dripping wet.
“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to insult you, Jeannette.”
“Well, my forgiveness depends on what you can do for me.”
Stefàn’s curiosity was instantly piqued. “And what might that be?”
“Marsha told me you’re the genius who sold her and Andre this exquisite house. I happen to be in the market for a new home, but all of the agents I’ve met with so far have been totally incompetent or racist.”
“Oh, well, I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but you’ve definitely come to the right place. I’m your man,” he said with a bright smile.
“You know, some women would take that literally coming from a man as fine as you are,” Jeannette said. “Good thing, I’m sharper than most, huh?”
Stefàn could only laugh. “So where exactly are you looking to buy?” he asked to draw attention away from himself. The manner in which she was ogling him made him feel like a piece of meat. He suddenly wished he had his shirt nearby to throw on.
“Englewood Cliffs and the vicinity.”
“Oh, that’s perfect. That’s my main territory. I have some beautiful homes in that area. What are you looking to spend?” he asked her.
“Excuse me, you two. I’m going to go check on my man. Too many of these little young things are getting too familiar for my comfort,” Marsha broke in.
“Go handle your business, girl,” Jeannette said to her. Then, without pause, she returned her attention to Stefàn. “Now back to you. How much am I looking to spend? Price is no object.”
“Well, that gives us plenty to work with. When are you available?”
“My calendar is quite free. Can we get together tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
“I put my purse in the house, but before I leave here today, we must exchange numbers.”
“Definitely,” said Stefàn.
CHARISSE SURREPTITIOUSLY WATCHED STEFÀN as he engaged the woman Marsha had introduced him to. She openly flirted with him, seemingly with no regard for the fact that Marsha was standing right next to them, and Stefàn didn’t appear too upset about it either. He’s got a lot of nerve, talking to me about how much attention my bathing suit is attracting. At least I’m not running behind these men here like a dog in heat the way these women are with him. He’d acted like she had committed a crime against him because she had worn this suit. He’s got a lot of nerve, especially now that he’s got this chick who looks like she’s old enough to be his mother grinning in his face, and he’s probably lapping it up. She huffed before she dove beneath the water and continued the laps she had begun earlier. Why do I even care, she thought, hoping the water she swam in would douse the fires of jealousy raging in her heart. He’s not even the type of man I want to be with.
LATER, AFTER THEY HAD ALL CHANGED back into their street clothes, Charisse, Myra and Robin conversed with some male guests near the deck of Andre’s and Marsha’s home. After a few minutes, Julian and Stefàn joined them.
Immediately upon their approach, Stefàn walked directly to where Charisse was seated and squatted next to her. He had been watching her covertly ever since their encounter in the pool, purposely keeping his distance so as to maintain his cool. But enough was enough. “You’ve been ignoring me all day,” he said for her ears only.
She frowned and said, “No, I haven’t. You’ve been preoccupied all day.”
“Oh really? Well, I’m not preoccupied now. Do you mind if I join you, or would I be cramping your style?”
“What do you think?” Charisse asked with a sarcastic edge.
“I don’t know. The brother in the red shirt just shot me a look like he wanted to do me harm for stepping to you,” Stefàn said with a smirk.
“He did not.”
“You obviously didn’t see him.”
“Well, that’s probably because he thought I came here alone.” Again, her beautiful brown eyes challenged him. “Especially since you’ve been grinning up in all these different females’ faces.”
“I was not!” Stefàn pretended to be offended.
“That’s what it looked like to me. But it’s cool. You owe me no allegiance.”
Stefàn grinned at her for a moment. The look on her face was one of utter indifference, but her tone expressed an entirely different emotion. As he sat gazing at her, his heartbeat seemed to triple its rhythm. There it is again. Why on earth would she be jealous of the females here? He had to admit the idea of her actually being resentful of any attention he might have paid to another woman there was quite flattering. But not a single one of these chicks can hold a candle to her, he thought. She is an exceptionally beautiful woman. I can see why that brother would be trying to get next to her. Especially if he saw her in that shimmering gold suit she had on earlier. That thing was off the hook! If she was my woman, though, I don’t know if I’d want her wearing anything that attracted so much attention in public. But she’s not your woman, he silently conceded with a sinking heart. She’s her own woman and there’s nothing you can do about that ’cause you know you are not the man she’s looking for.
As Stefàn was submersed in his musings, Charisse suddenly began to rise from her chair.
“Hey, where you going?” he asked as he hastily rose to his feet.
“To get a drink.”
“Stay there. I’ll get it. What’re you drinking?”
“7-Up.”
“I’ll be right back,” he said with a wink. Before walking away, Stefàn turned to face the guy with the red shirt who had been talking to Charisse. “What’s up, brotha?”
“Yeah, whassup,” the guy muttered with a cynical look.
As Stefàn moved away from them, the man’s dagger-filled eyes followed him. When he turned back to Charisse seconds later and after Stefàn was out of earshot, he deridingly asked, “Is that your man?”
“He’s a friend.”
“Oh, because I noticed that he seemed quite friendly with a number of the women here and I was wondering if you didn’t have a problem with him disrespecting you like that.”
Charisse smiled and said, “Well, he’s not my man, and like I said, we’re just friends so what he does is his business.”
“He stepped to you like he was staking a claim.”
She laughed. “He invited me. He was making sure I was all right; that’s all.”
Stefàn returned rather quickly with Charisse’s drink and after he handed it to her, he turned to the young man in the red shirt and introduced himself. “Hey, I’m Stefàn. How you doin’, man?” He offered his hand.
“I’m Bruce.”
“Hey, Bruce. You friends with Dre and Marsha?”
“No, I went to school with their son, AJ.”
“Oh, okay. You’ve met Charisse, I gather,” Stefàn said magnanimously as he turned and gestured in her direction.
“Not formally, no.”
“Oh, well, this is my good friend, Charisse Ellison. Risi, this is Bruce.”
Charisse smirked at Stefàn, then rolled her eyes. She was surprised to hear him refer to her by her nickname. “Hi, Bruce,” she said and offered her hand.
“Hi.”
“You enjoying yourself?” Stefàn then asked Bruce.
“Yeah.”
“Nice looking crowd, hu
h?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, this is my man, Julian,” Stefàn said as he turned to him. “Dub, this is Bruce. And these ladies are Myra and Robin.”
“What’s up, Bruce?” said Julian as he offered his hand.
“Hey,” Bruce replied as he weakly shook Julian’s hand.
“You live nearby, Bruce?” Stefàn then asked.
“Not too far.”
“Dre and Marsha give a slamming party, don’t they?”
“Yeah, they do.”
“You still in school?”
“No.”
“What do you do for living?”
Charisse, meanwhile, looked over at Myra and Robin, before she turned her eyes to Julian, who wore an ambiguous smile. She knew Stefàn was patronizing this young guy simply because he had been talking to her.
“I’m a financial planner,” Bruce answered with a self-satisfied air.
“Really? Hey, Risi, that’s along the same lines of what you do, right? Charisse is a CPA.”
“Oh yeah?” Bruce muttered.
“Yeah.”
“What do you do?” Bruce challenged Stefàn.
“I’m in real estate. As a matter of fact, I sold Dre and Marsha this house.”
“Oh yeah?” The look of disdain he gave Stefàn was unmistakable.
Stefàn noticed but continued speaking in the same supercilious manner. “Yeah. If you’re looking to buy some property, I can give you my card. I’ve got the inside track on quite a few very fine parcels all over New Jersey.”
“Thanks, but I’m not interested.”
“Okay, but if you change your mind, AJ’s parents know how to get in touch with me.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Stefàn then turned to Charisse and openly winked at her.
Bruce said, “It was nice to meet you, Charisse. Excuse me.” He immediately walked away from them.
Charisse shook her head and said to Stefàn, “You’re a piece of work.”
“What?” he asked with a shrug of his shoulders and a blameless look on his face.
“Yeah, what?”
Julian and Stefàn then slapped each other five as they shared a conspiratorial laugh.
“So, Stefàn, are you going to chase away all the men who try to talk to Charisse the way you did that one?” Robin asked facetiously.
“I didn’t chase him away. I thought we were holding a conversation. It’s not my fault if the brother feels threatened by me.”
“Oh please,” Robin said as she rolled her eyes.
Myra, too, looked skyward at his words.
“Yeah, like you really wanted to know what he did for a living,” Charisse said.
“I was curious. I wanted to see if he was up to speed for you. He looked kind of young. You need a man who can take of you; at least better than you can take care of yourself,” Stefàn said to Charisse.
“Yes, I’m sure that’s of great concern to you.”
“Hey, you’re my friend. I always try to look out for my friends.”
“What would I ever do without you?” she sarcastically questioned.
“Let’s hope we never have to find out.”
The five of them spent the next hour or so together, laughing and poking fun at each other and at some of the guests; basically, enjoying the atmosphere of the gathering. Charisse felt considerably more at ease because Stefàn had since given her his practically undivided attention, although she would have never admitted that his earlier neglect had bothered her at all. Stefàn, too, felt better since he didn’t have to wonder where Charisse was or who she was talking to. Besides, her smile was back and directed at him, and that made all the difference in his world.
Fate being as it may, however, Charisse’s and Stefàn’s momentary bliss quickly came to an end when Jeannette Lucas crashed their private assembly.
Unceremoniously walking up to Stefàn and grabbing him from behind, she wrapped her arms around his waist in a possessive manner and lustfully stuck her tongue in his ear.
Jerking away from her as if he’d been burned, Stefàn shot her a look that questioned her sanity as he wiped her saliva off his lobe.
“I didn’t mean to startle you so, but I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last ten minutes. I figured if I kissed you on your ear, you’d notice me.”
“Ya think?” Stefàn caustically replied.
Charisse and Myra exchanged a look of disapproval.
“I wanted to give you my number and get yours so we could get together tomorrow.”
“There are several other ways you could have gotten my attention. You could have used my name, for instance,” he said.
“I know. I’m sorry,” she said demurely. “Forgive me folks, I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I’m trying to buy a house, and from what I understand, this is the man to see.”
No one said a word.
“So, cutie, do you have a pen?” she asked Stefàn as if Charisse, Myra, Robin and Julian had suddenly vanished into thin air.
“No, I don’t.” He turned to the girls and asked, “Do any of you have a pen?”
After a pregnant pause, Robin muttered, “I do.”
With a look that attested to everything she felt about Stefàn, Myra said to Charisse, “You ready to go?”
“Oh yeah.”
Robin handed Stefàn a pen just as Charisse and Myra rose from their seats. “Nice meeting you, Robin,” Charisse muttered before she started away from them. “Bye, Julian.”
“Do you have one of your cards?” Jeannette asked Stefàn.
“Yeah.” He reached into his back pocket for his wallet as Charisse and Myra began to walk away. When Stefàn noticed that they were headed out of the yard, he called, “Charisse!”
Stopping in her tracks, she reluctantly turned back to him. Her face was devoid of emotion.
“Where you going?”
“Home,” she replied and continued out of the yard.
“Wait up.” He turned back to Jeannette and said, “Excuse me a minute.” He hurried to catch up with Charisse.
She was at the front of the house when he caught up with her. “Why are you leaving?”
Looking up at him with a resolute frown, she stated, “Because it’s time.”
“So, you’re just gonna walk out and not say anything to me?”
“What do you want me to say, Stefàn?” Shaking her head, she sighed in exasperation. “I don’t even know why I came here with you.”
“I thought because you wanted to.”
“Yeah, I did. And I didn’t know what to expect, but I know it wasn’t this.” She waved her hand and sighed again. “Look, I’ve gotta go. You enjoy the rest of your evening,” she said and quickly turned away from him. She felt her eyes beginning to water and the last thing she wanted was for him to see how upset she was over him.
Dumbfounded, Stefàn stood rooted in confusion. A sick feeling seeped through his pores as he watched Charisse walk to her car, get in and drive away without another word or glance in his direction. His heart filled with the fear of a dreadful reality—he had lost her even before he’d had the chance to really get to know her.
CHAPTER 11
A SECOND CHANCE
The silence was deafening during the funereal ride home.
Knowing Charisse was upset about the woman who had assaulted Stefàn, and despite his apparent vexation regarding her brazen behavior, Myra noticed that he still gave her his number. She didn’t want to tell Charisse, “I told you so,” but that thought echoed in her brain like the incessant ticking of the second hand on a clock. Stefàn was no good for her. Hopefully, it was now obvious to Charisse that he was a womanizer and nothing but bad news. Besides that, he wasn’t saved. How could Charisse even fall for someone like him? She really wanted to tell her that, but her dear friend was hurting right now and Myra knew anything she said about him would only serve to make her feel worse.
Going directly to her bedroom when they got back to her house
, Myra followed her. “Are you okay?”
Charisse muttered, “Yeah. Are you spending the night or do you want me to take you home?”
“No, I’ll stay.”
The girls were silent for the next few minutes. Charisse had flopped down on her bed and Myra had taken a seat on her chaise. “Charisse, you know how he is,” Myra finally said.
“Myra, please, I don’t want to hear it.”
“But Risi…”
“Myra!”
Throwing her hands up, she conceded. “Okay. I’m going to watch a movie. Do you want to watch with me?”
“No, you go ahead. I want to chill for a while.”
“All right.” Myra turned and went downstairs to the den.
After a while, Charisse decided to take a shower. As soon as she entered her bathroom, however, she changed her mind and figured a nice, hot bubble bath would actually do her more good.
As she lounged in the warm water and tried to soak the pain in her heart away, she prayed. “Father, is there a lesson here You want me to learn? Why do I feel so strongly for this man? He seems so wrong for me. What is it about him that makes me care for him so much? I don’t understand. Sometimes when we least expect it, blessings can come from places we would never think to look for them. Could this man be in my life because of something You want me to see? Is there something You want me to do? What role is he to play in my life? You didn’t give me a spirit of jealousy, Father. Please take these feelings off my heart,” she pleaded as tears spilled from her eyes.
When Charisse emerged from her bathroom thirty minutes later she felt more refreshed, but was still down in the dumps.
As she lounged on her brocade chaise in a T-shirt and leggings, her bedside phone suddenly rang and startled her out of her maudlin mood. Automatically moving to get up and answer it, she quickly changed her mind. Feeling sorry for herself, she had no desire to put on a happy face for anybody, nor was she in the mood to explain her melancholy.