She looked around at all of his burned-to-the-quick candles and half-burned incense. “Is this how you get all of your honeys to come back with you after work? You offer them breakfast and then tell them they should sleep at your house since it’s getting late?”
“First of all, I did not offer you breakfast.” He turned on the stereo. The smooth Hiroshima CD was number one.
“Oh, you know better than to play game with me. Or maybe it would have been better than ‘follow me’,” she mocked.
He ignored her attitude, almost used to it by now. “Would you like something to drink, Sequoia?”
“Like what?”
“What would you like?” he asked, walking toward the tiny kitchen.
“What do you have?”
He opened the refrigerator door, peeked in and told her, “Water, orange juice, Kool-Aid, red wine, rum and Coke, brandy, whatever.”
She was still acting suspicious. “Alcohol, huh?”
“And non-alcohol.”
She took off her pointy, golden ankle-strap shoes. “Torino, let’s just get it over with.”
“What?”
“Give me a break. You know you want it as much as I do.”
He walked toward her and stood near the television, turning it on as well. “What? Some Kool-Aid? Yes, that is exactly what I’ll have. A nice, tall, cold glass of grape Kool-Aid. And I’m pouring one for you, too, just so you can cool off.”
“Screw the Kool-Aid, Torino. Come on so we can get the fucking over with.”
“Sequoia, why do you always have your guard up? Why do you always think somebody wants something from you? Why are you so damn angry?”
She sat back, leaning on a round sofa pillow. “I’m not angry. I’m just hip to the game.”
“And how many men have run this so-called game on you that made you so hip?” He stood over her.
“Why are you worried?”
“Because you give me the impression that you’ve been used.”
“Used up?” she asked. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“No, damn it. I mean taken advantage of by some men who think they need to add you to their list of conquests because you are so damn fine. But what they don’t see is that having a woman like you on a regular basis is worth more than having you for one night. I’m not interested in a one-night stand with you.”
She actually lowered her volume a notch. “What do you want from me, Torino?”
The phone rang. It rang three times. Sequoia looked to Torino. He looked back at her.
“The machine will pick it up.”
“I didn’t say a word. I know why you get calls this time of night.”
He didn’t reply. He sat on the love seat, making sure to not sit on the sofa she was on. He sat on the edge, trying to lean toward her. “Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to calm down and relax around me. Stop fighting the feeling and just breathe. I’m not gonna hurt you. We’ve known each other too long for that bullshit.”
She looked him dead in the eyes. “Torino, do you consider yourself a player?”
“I’ve been in a relationship for a couple of years. Does that sound like something a player would do?”
“Were you true to her all those years?”
“No,” he admitted without hesitation.
“Why didn’t you marry her?”
“Because I didn’t want to.”
“Oh, you didn’t want to. But she was good enough to call your woman, just not the mother of your kids.”
“You could say that.”
“And what separates a woman who’s good enough to just screw from one who’s good enough to be the mother of your children?”
“I feel like I’m being interviewed by Barbara Walters.”
“I’m just trying to get to the core of what your intentions are.”
“Fine, Sequoia, let me see.” He leaned back, looking like he was searching for the right answer on the ceiling. “Probably a woman of virtue who would inspire a man to give up his bachelorhood, not make him do it. How’s that?”
Sequoia paused and then spoke. “Do you love her?”
“I think so.”
“You think so?” she replied loudly.
Torino stood up. This time he got louder. “Calm down, Sequoia. Your feisty attitude must have scared the shit out of many a man through the years. But you’re not gonna scare my ass away. I know you.”
“What do you know?”
“I know that you’re hiding something behind all of these questions and this mean exterior. You’ve been hurt, probably a few times.”
“Oh, like you don’t know.”
“What makes you think I know?” This time he sat on the arm of the sofa.
“Mercedes has told Mason about how Bobby dogged me. Mason told Claude. And Claude told you.”
“My brothers and I have a lot better things to do than gossip about which dude tripped out on you.”
“It takes a tripped-out dude to know one. Like your ass was ever faithful to Colette.”
“I admit I’ve had to use my B list from time to time. And I’ve met some women who I thought might be able to move Colette out of position. Yes, I’ve had my share. But that crap gets tiring.”
“Your share of what?”
“My share of pussy. I always say, pussy is like eating cheesecake all the time, day after day. It tastes good but it’s too rich.”
“So, you’re tired of the cheesecake?”
He said it in her words. “I’m tired of the cheesecake.”
“What are you in the mood for?” Sequoia scooted over to lean toward him this time.
“Something different. And I’m warning you, that’s your last question for the night.”
“So now you’re into something different. Something so different at a time when I bring my big ass to your place after all these years, ready to let you rock my world. And that was a comment, not a question.” She smirked.
“That’s what you came here for?”
“Duh, nigga, it’s three in the morning. I’m not one of those women who come up to the hotel room and then say, I didn’t want to give it to him, he just took it. Bunk that. I’m a grown ass woman and you’re a grown ass man, Torino. You know why I’m here.”
He stood up. “I’m here to eat some pizza and drink some Kool-Aid. I have these slammin’ Wolfgang Puck frozen pizzas. The barbeque chicken one is about to get devoured. I’m sure you brought your hunger along with your hominess.”
“I am not horny.”
“Okay.”
She grinned again, seeming to lighten up. “Okay, I am horny. But I can cure that with one phone call.”
“And so can 1.1 didn’t ask you over here for that. Let’s just chill.”
“Just chill. And that was not a question either.”
“Whatever you say. I say yes, let’s just chill, Sequoia, and talk, and eat pizza and drink purple Kool-Aid.”
She looked up at him with wondering eyes. “And drink purple Kool-Aid?” she asked.
He gave her a look.
She rephrased her words. “Okay, I mean, let’s drink purple Kool-Aid.”
“Yes, purple.”
She let out a powerful breath. “I am sort of hungry, Torino.”
“Cool.” He went back into the kitchen and removed a cardboard box from the freezer, placing the pizza on a cookie sheet. He set the temperature on the oven and put it inside. Within forty-five minutes, they were eating and drinking, seated on his sofa, together, talking over the volume of the Dave Koz CD playing to a volume-less, old Martin episode on his wide screen television.
As the sun started to rise, Sequoia yawned and rested her head back on Torino’s soft, cushiony sofa and closed her eyes. Torino took his chenille cover and placed it over her, rotating her head around to rest on a bed pillow.
He proceeded to his room, keeping one eye on the vision of her surrender, and closed the door. After that night, Sequoia basically, never left.
After an evening of hot, passionate sex where Mercedes’s fantasies were racing as usual, she lay on her back, wearing only a black lace thong. She fanned herself with her hand to cool and dry her sweat and propped the pillow behind her head.
Mason laid down butt naked. He turned on the TV to watch the golf channel. She remembered to tell him about Sequoia. “Mason, Torino broke up with Colette.”
“I’m not surprised. She’s a hot head.”
“And, you are not going to believe it but Torino actually asked me for Sequoia’s phone number.”
“For what?”
“That’s what I wanted to know. You’d think so they could sign up for a WWF match and beat the hell out of each other.”
“I’m telling you. That boy admitted that he likes her.”
“He sure did.”
Mason scooted up to lean back against the headboard. “Man, I was blind to that one. They’re pretty much the same age but I’ve just never even noticed an actual spark between them. Only darted stares. If they ever got together, there’d be a 5.0 earthquake in Los Angeles.”
“Well, perhaps he had this lightbulb moment about her and wants to give it a shot. I gave her his number.”
Mason spoke his opinion. “You women are so protective of each other. You could have just given him her number.”
Mercedes replied with spunk, “He asked me, not you. Can I please handle it the way I want to?”
“No problem.” Mason continued to stare at the television.
“Mason, do you think Torino is a cock-hound?”
“A cock-hound? Where did that come from?”
“It’s just that he’s so fickle and he never seems satisfied. I’m just worried about my best friend.”
“I think if anyone can handle Torino, Sequoia can.”
“True. But I’ve seen Torino with a whole lot of women. He goes through girls like a starving man devouring a Krispy Kreme donut.”
“He’s not that bad. He was with Colette for a long time.”
“Like I said, I’ve seen him with a whole lot of women, even while he was with Colette. Sequoia’s like a sister to me. I don’t want her to get hurt, baby.”
“I can’t guarantee that she won’t now. That’s on her. But she’s known him long enough to know what she’d be getting into. Why did you tell him you’d give her his number if you have this much doubt about him?”
“I was just hoping that he’s gotten all of his running around out of his system like you and Claude did years ago. After all, he’s not getting any younger. He needs a good woman.”
“You’re right about that. Even the woman-crazy brothers eventually get tired of one-nighters and cheap thrills.”
“Do me a favor, please, and ask him what his intentions are.”
“I’m not Sequoia’s father, Cedes. That’s not my place.”
Mercedes stood up to go into the bathroom. She still looked concerned.
Mason watched her strut her rear end in front of him. He checked her out from the waist down. “All right, I’ll pry a little.”
“Thanks, baby.”
He stood up and stepped into his pajama bottoms. “Do you want anything from the kitchen?”
“Just a few graham crackers,” she yelled his way.
“Sounds good. I’ll be right back. And I say go ahead and hook them up.”
“I already did,” Mercedes informed him.
“Good”
Little did they know Sequoia was sleeping just a few yards away.
Since Mason promised Star he would spend time with her when he had a few days to be home, he decided it would be nice to drive her to school, which he had not done since she was in the fourth grade.
They drove as slow as snails in the single lane of cars to the main drop off area in the front of her high school. Cars seemed to come to a stop as they looked over to peek inside of the tinted windows of Mason’s black-on-black convertible Porsche Boxer.
“Daddy, why do people always stare at you?” Star asked, watching the other parents break their necks to ogle her famous father.
“I think maybe they recognize me.”
“I know that. But why do they stare? I mean, I think that’s so rude to just be all up in somebody’s face like they’re from another planet.”
“It’s human nature, Star. They see someone on television, and then when they catch them in person, it’s only natural I suppose.”
She felt the sticky eyes from the outside but tried to look preoccupied, zipping up the front pouch to her denim backpack. “I would never stare if I saw someone famous. So what.”
“If you saw Justin Timberlake you wouldn’t stare?”
“No.”
“How about Bow Wow?” Mason asked, looking over at her like he was getting somewhere.
She waved her hand toward him. “Oh, please. I don’t care who it is. It’s just an invasion of privacy to watch someone eat or talk in private, or drive their daughter to school,” she said loudly, looking the driver of a car dead in the eye.
“I don’t even notice anymore.”
“Well, I do,” Star said. Mason prepared to stop in front of Star’s school along with the other parents dropping off their kids. Star panicked. “No Daddy, just pull up over there, down the street,” she pointed up the street about a half a block.
“But you’ll have to walk farther,” Mason said.
“I’m okay. I don’t want everybody peeking in and being even more nosey as I get out.”
Mason pulled up. “Fine. How’s this?”
“This is good.” She bent over to pick up her lunch bag from the floor. “I’m surprised you’re home this morning. I thought you’d be on the course or jogging by now.”
“Well, I’m not. I’m here taking my gorgeous, talented daughter, who is growing up so fast, to school. Don’t I get a kiss?”
Star leaned toward her dad and stopped in mid-reach. “Oh my God, Daddy. Oh my God.”
“What, Star?”
She sat back, pressing her back against the seat. “Daddy, take me home right now.”
Mason turned to face her. “Why?”
“Daddy, I need to go home to Mom right now. Please, Daddy, just go,” Star insisted as she held on to the side of the seat for dear life.
Mason shifted the car into gear. “Star, are you okay?” he asked, pulling out again into traffic.
“No, Daddy,” Star said, reaching her hand under her rear end and holding her breath.
“What is it?”
She pulled her hand from underneath her skirt. “Dad, I’ve started my period.”
“Your period?”
“Yes, and it’s all over my skirt and the seat and everything.”
“Wait, I have a towel in the trunk,” he said, starting to pull over.
“No, Daddy. Just get me home to Mom, please. Hurry up.”
Mason began to speed along as he called Mercedes on her cell phone but there was no answer. “Where is she?”
“She was going walking with Aunt Venus.”
“Aunt Venus? Okay, when I pull up, I’m going to run in and grab a towel or sheet or something, and you go inside and head to your mom’s bathroom. I’m sure she has some tampons under the sink.”
She turned up her nose. “Tampons? No way am I using those.”
“Well, don’t you have any pads just for this very occasion?”
“Mom and I thought this day was at least a year away. Daddy, hurry and get me home and then go get some pads from the store.”
“I’m hurrying,” he said, taking the short route back to their house.
When he arrived and put on the parking brake, Star flung the door open. “I’ll be right here. Go,” she told him.
“Hold up a minute,” he insisted. “Sit tight.” He ran inside and then ran back out with a dark sheet as Star scooted along the seat, stepping out. She stood up, draping the sheet in between her legs and behind her butt. “Hurry, Daddy. I’ll be in the bathroom.”
“I’ll be
right back,” he said, throwing a towel over the passenger side seat.
After making his way to the grocery store, Mason noticed people staring at him with the box of Kotex in the ten items or less line as he handed the cashier his debit card.
“Just slide it through, Mr. Wilson.”
“Okay,” he said, seeming nervous.
“You act like you’ve never done this before.”
“I have. It’s just that my, well, thanks. Can I have a bag, please?”
“Paper or plastic?”
“Paper.”
Mason arrived back home in two point two seconds. He ran inside to Mercedes’s bathroom where he found the door locked.
He knocked. “Star? Do you know how to use these?”
She took the bag and locked the door again, speaking from the other side, ripping the box open. “Yes. But isn’t there a belt or something I’m supposed to use?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask your mom on that one.”
“Daddy, can I just stay home from school?”
“Sure, baby. Just take care of yourself.”
“Is the seat of your car okay?” she yelled from the bathroom.
“It’ll wash off. Anyway, it’s black leather. Nothing will damage that. What’s important is you right now.”
“Good answer, Daddy,” she teased.
He smiled and shook his head, heading back outside to clean off the leather seat.
“What a day already, and it’s only eight in the morning,” he said aloud.
Mercedes was at the jogging trail at Fox Hills park. She bent over to stretch her legs out just as Venus walked up.
“Thanks for meeting me,” said Mercedes, giving Venus the once-over. “You look good, Ms. MexiBlack.”
Venus snickered. “Thanks. What’s been up with you?” she asked, tying her sweatshirt around her waist.
“Not much. Just handling my business with the agency and the family,” Mercedes said, turning from side to side.
“It must feel great to have some place to go other than staying home all day. I keep thinking about going back to work. Like it was before I married Claude.”
“You mean teaching?”
“Yes. At least part-time,” Venus replied, stretching her fingers to the sky.
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