Second Time Around

by Darrin Lowery

  After getting dressed he made a second phone call. He called the agency. He wanted to see Stephanie this weekend. He wanted to make the appointment now. He dialed the number that before needed the assistance of a business card. Now the number was burned into his head, alongside childhood memories, fantasies, and important things. He knew the number by heart.

  If his phone were checked, it would show that he dialed double E more than he dialed family members. A smooth female voice answered on the other end.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, this is Mr. Howard. I’d like to make my weekend appointment. Same girl, same service.”

  He talked to the operator like he was ordering takeout. The woman on the other end was the same woman he talked to that first night. The same woman who heard him trip over his words before. Things had changed. He was no longer nervous, no longer fumbling. Spending over 24,000 dollars did that to a man. It made him more confident. It had to. In a few months time, he spent enough money to outright buy a car. He spent that much money for the company of a woman.

  There was a pause at the other end of the phone.

  There had never been a pause before.

  He thought to himself that perhaps there was a problem with the payment, but there couldn’t be. There was plenty of money in his account.

  The pause brought back his nervousness, anxiety. His mouth became dry and his breathing rapid.

  “Is—there a problem?”

  He heard typing on the other end, and he heard the operating breathing. He knew she was there, but she didn’t readily answer.

  “Hold on, sir.”

  It was another pause.

  A pregnant pause.

  It was the pause you hear when bill collectors call. The pause when bill collectors put you on hold so they can look at your account; more importantly so they can look at documentation on the account. He heard typing. He heard breathing, but that was all.

  “Uh, hello?”

  “I’m here, sir. One moment.”

  The voice was no longer smooth. The voice was now impatient. The voice now had a certain tone to it. The operator let out a small sigh. And then she spoke.

  “Sir, that package is unavailable. Would you like another?”

  The voice was smooth again, but not as it has been before. Not as if she was selling a fantasy. This time the smooth voice was fake. It was clearly fake. It was as if she were trying to feign professionalism. It was if she were not trying to lose his account, his money. It was clear there was some notation on the file.

  “What do you mean, unavailable?” He looked at the phone with frustration.

  He tried to keep his voice calm, without cracking; with no anxiety. He was standing up when he made the call, but now he had to sit down. He had to calm himself. He felt a rush and then warmth. It was like a dealer telling an addict that he was out of product.

  “That package Mr. Howard . . . is unavailable. Would you like another?”

  Her voice was patient again, but unwavering. It was a tone that he had heard before. He knew one wrong word, or one word out of anger, she would disconnect the call.

  He surmised the woman on the other end was African American. All this time, he couldn’t tell what nationality she was over the phone. Prior to today, her voice was always at the same pitch. Her voice was usually smooth. Perhaps it was from previous years of practice or just a marketing technique, but over the phone initially you could not tell anything about the operator over the phone other than the fact that she had a calming demeanor.

  Today he was sure of it. Today he was sure that she was an African American woman. Her voice rang of impatience. She read something in his file that put her in sister-girl mode. She was professional, but she had that tone that black women sometimes have that says, I’m barely putting up with your ass and my patience is running out.

  “Sir, that package is unavailable.” This time she was cold. Flat.

  “Until when?” Darren asked.

  “Indefinitely. Would you like another package?”

  He could tell this was the last time the operator would ask.

  “Um . . . no, thank—”

  “Thank you for your business, Mr. Howard.”

  The call was disconnected. Before he could say thank you, the call was disconnected. He felt ashamed. He felt embarrassed. He wanted to know what was in the file, but the truth was, he would never know.

  What have I done? he thought to himself.

  He took a few more minutes to get himself together and then he went to work. His stomach was knotted up and it felt as if it were burning with acid. This thing with Stephanie felt like a breakup and it hurt. He let out a sigh. He then stood up to leave when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He read the text on the other end.

  NO.

  It was from Korie. His stomach knotted even more.

  She just needs time, he thought.

  Only now, he wasn’t as confident.

  Darren went to work. He saw his first few clients. Two were depressed. It was hard to listen to them because clearly he was depressed as well. He did a good job of pretending he wasn’t. He listened and he listened attentively, but in the back of his mind his thoughts were about two things: Stephanie and Korie. Both women were now a part of his past and at one point, he thought both might be a part of his future. He counseled his clients and took breaks between sessions. He needed time to get himself together and was surprised at how things were affecting him.

  He needed time to regroup. He needed to get his life back to normal, whatever that was. He decided to leave work early and not see his last client. How could he advise others when his own shit wasn’t together?

  He walked out to the parking lot to his new car. It was his new toy. It was what he used the check for that Mr. Harris gave him. He needed to let the top down, to drive around town. He needed to be seen. His ego had already taken two major blows today from the two women who he wanted most. He needed to patch up his ego. He needed women to look at him like the hardworking professional black man that he was. He needed idol worship. Envy. Jealousy. He thought that the best way to get a woman off your mind is to get another in your bed. This time, he thought, it won’t be a woman who requires a credit card.

  He just chirped the alarm on his new car when he heard his name called.

  “Excuse me. Excuse me, uh, Darren?”

  Shit, he thought. He just knew it was another client. He was pleasantly surprised when he turned around and saw Karen; Special K, the dancer he met at the barbershop.

  “Oh. Hello, how are you?”

  A few weeks prior, she called him. She inquired about services and he referred her to another colleague. He would have taken the case himself except for two things: He no longer accepted the lower-income clients, and then there was the fact that she had such an incredible body.

  He had forgotten about her. He had forgotten about the day at the barbershop. She remained true to her word and had not been back since to get her son’s hair cut. Darren got his hair cut there every week. From time to time, Big Gucci would inquire about her. He’d ask if she called, but she hadn’t. Darren chalked it up to perhaps her losing his card, or not being serious to begin with. He forgot about her entirely until a few weeks back.

  He was sitting in his office just getting ready to leave when his Administrative Assistant called him to the front lobby. There she was with her son. She wasn’t dressed up provocatively. She wore a sundress, glasses, and sandals. She was dressed common, respectable. Her breasts weren’t as exposed as they were in the shop. She no longer looked like an exotic dancer who had just gotten off work. She looked like an everyday woman. She looked like a mom.

  She showed up unannounced, a definite no-no. Darren hated unannounced visits. He hated surprises. But there she was one day with her son in tow. She was there and she needed help.

  Darren interviewed her. She explained, just as he thought, that it wasn’t her cousin who needed services. It was her. She explained that her
son had been abused by a man who she thought she could trust. She went to the club one day to dance and left him home with her then boyfriend. Unknown to Karen, the man in question would sometimes slap the boy. One day while she was gone he beat the boy mercilessly. She came home and her boyfriend was gone, but her son was battered and bruised. He obviously left when he realized the damage that he had done. Her heart was broken and so was her faith in men.

  She never called the police. That was something that she felt guilty about also. She never called the police because she was afraid that children’s services would be called. She was afraid that she would lose her son, the only light in her life. She had the locks changed on her apartment, she stopped dancing for close to a month, and she nursed her son back to health. She rocked him, nurtured him, and gave him children’s Tylenol until his wounds were healed. A year later, when she needed to enroll him in kindergarten, it was discovered that her son, Jacob. had a significant hearing loss in his right ear. It was a loss obviously due to the beating at the hands of the boyfriend.

  It was a secret that she held for years. It was a guilt that ate away at her each day; guilt for not pressing charges against the man that abused her child. It was guilt over her negligence as a parent. Her son didn’t talk much. He wasn’t cognitively delayed, but he was withdrawn, as children whom have been traumatized often are. With every day that he was withdrawn, the guilt ate away at Karen. She needed help. They needed help.

  A colleague owed Darren a favor. Darren’s payment was that he be the one to treat Karen and bill her sessions pro bono. His colleague didn’t want to treat her for the same reasons Darren didn’t want to treat her. Once you saw a woman in the capacity of counselor, she was off limits to date. Both men wanted her. Karen was a little rough around the edges, but she was attractive. Darren’s colleague had been seeing both Karen and her son in individual counseling sessions and saw them together as a family. Her progress had been great, from what Darren had been hearing, and for that he was pleased.

  Now she was flagging him down in the parking lot. She approached with a warm smile, an inviting smile. Then her eyes went to the car. He saw the way she looked at his last sports car. Now he had something new for her to see.

  Her eyes were practically glued to the new luxury automobile. It was what the white boys called a pussy magnet. Black men called them groupie cars, or a flossin’-ass whip. To Darren, it was a look-at-me car. It was the car’s job to attract a woman’s attention. It was Darren’s job to keep the attention there. He leaned back on the car as Karen walked up to him.

  “You got another car?”

  “Yeah, I got another car. It was time. I work pretty hard. I had to do something nice for myself.”

  “This is nice.”

  “Thank you. How have you been?”

  “You know, I’ve been great. I just came over here because I wanted to thank you for everything that you’ve done for me and my son. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to get a child seen by a therapist.”

  “Actually, I would. I always wondered what took you so long to call.”

  “Ego. Embarrassment. I told the other women at the club that I was thinking about bringing Jacob to a therapist and they all said the same thing.”

  “Let me guess, black people don’t go to counselors. They either go to church or women call their girlfriends. That’s what they said, right?”

  “You know it.”

  “Well, I’m glad you stopped listening to them. I’m glad that you got your son the services that he needed. How is he, by the way?”

  “He’s great.”

  “And you?”

  “I’m great.”

  “Yeah, well. You seem like it. I’m happy for you.”

  The chemistry was in the air. Her vibe, however, was admiration whereas his was lust. He looked at her. His eyes traveled her body, caressed her curves. His mind’s eye was already playing an adult film in his psyche. She smiled at him, he smiled at her, his slacks began to stiffen, and he controlled his breathing so she would be unaware, but they both were giving off pheromones. They both were undeniably interested. The question was who would address the obvious.

  She was thinking to herself that he had a world of potential. He was thinking that she had an incredible rack. Her breasts, which looked like they were ready to pop when he first saw her, were now subdued in the jeans and T-shirt that she was wearing. She wore a cardigan over the T-shirt and her breasts didn’t look fake the way she had them dressed up. She looked as if she had nice, natural breasts and a really nice shape for a woman her age. She spoke first.

  “Listen, can I get you a cup of coffee or something? I really owe you.”

  “I tell you what, let me buy you a cup of coffee sometime.”

  “Okay, when?”

  “Where is your son?”

  “Today he’s with my mother.”

  “Then today.”

  She smiled. It was a wonderful smile and a smile a man could get used to.

  “Today, when?”

  “Right now.”

  He chirped the car to unlock it and held the door open for her. She smiled again as she stepped in the luxury automobile. Soft music began to play when Darren started his car.

  “So where is the best place to get coffee?” she asked.

  “Oh, I have a few ideas,” Darren said smiling at her. He needed to get Stephanie and Korie off his mind and Karen would prove to be the perfect distraction.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Korie was blown away as the limo took her and Vaughn to the airport. She had never been out of the country before. She never dreamed she would ever leave the country and here she was heading to Tokyo. The limo headed to O’Hare International Airport, and the whole time she was nervous. Vaughn held her hand and smiled at her reassuringly as they pulled up to the airline gate.

  “This is pretty big. I mean, us taking a trip out of the country.” She could hardly contain her smile.

  “It’s just the first of many things to come, sweetheart. I wish I could say that this trip was completely about us, but I have to remind you. I’ll be here on business, at least the first day. After that, however, it’s you and me and I can’t wait to show you everything.” He leaned in and kissed her.

  “Everything? You mean all of Tokyo?”

  “No, sweetheart. I mean the world. I want to show you the world. Given the chance, I think I’d like to give you the world as well.”

  Vaughn held her hand like he had been her boyfriend for a lifetime. Korie held his hand back and smiled at him. She was still an independent woman, but the way Vaughn treated her, she thought I could really get used to this. Korie blushed. Vaughn smiled. He kissed her again before they exited the limo.

  “Okay, so let’s do this.”

  They got out of the car and headed into the airport. No luggage, no checking in. They went straight to the gate and straight to boarding.

  It must be nice to be wealthy, Korie thought. Had this been her on a simple trip to Vegas, she would have been lugging around multiple bags. There would have also been an extremely long line for checking in and the hassle of all the checkpoints.

  As VIPs, she and Vaughn had two checkpoints: The first gate with the metal detectors and a final one at boarding. It was an incredibly long flight, but flying first class had its privileges, such as full meals rather than the peanuts Korie was used to when she traveled, and movies that were still at the theater. She experienced a level of comfort she didn’t think was possible on an airplane. This was especially important since it was a twelve-hour flight.

  Upon their arrival to Narita Airport in Tokyo, the first thing that Vaughn did was phone the Japanese to let them know that he had landed. In doing business with the Japanese, it was customary to confirm meetings two hours prior to a meeting.

  Upon landing, Vaughn had an estimated two hours before their scheduled meeting. After confirmation, Vaughn and Korie were met by a driver who took them back to the hotel in a Rolls-Royce. Korie
had never seen a Rolls-Royce in person, let alone ride in one. She was impressed with the vehicle, although she tried hard not to show it.

  It was hard to contain her awe. For Vaughn this was business as usual and he smiled as he looked at Korie. He had to keep reminding himself this was all new to her. He liked watching her look at things in wonderment. It was like watching a child’s first Christmas or a child’s first major trip. There were many sights and sounds to see and although Korie didn’t want to ignore Vaughn, she was practically glued to the window while looking at the sights and sounds of Tokyo.

  For Vaughn, he simply seemed to be in a rush to get to the meeting. He periodically checked his watch. He didn’t want to offend his clients any further, especially considering he had no explanation as to why they backed out of the deal to begin with. If anything, their backing out pissed him off, but he had to contain his emotions just as Korie tried to contain her excitement.

  The Rolls-Royce pulled up to the Tokyo Peninsula, one of the most elegant and impressive hotels in the country. The hotel had an international design, but was in every way Japanese in its conception. The hotel was across the street from the Imperial Palace and just a few short blocks from the shopping capital, the Ginza. Korie was in awe as she stepped out of the Rolls-Royce like an American princess. She stopped and placed her hand to her mouth in awe as she looked up and around 180 degrees. Vaughn looked at her and simply smiled. Again, it was like a kid at Christmas.

  “My God, it’s beautiful here.”

  “Yes, it is. It is impressive. But not half as beautiful as you. Come on, let’s go.”

  Korie walked over to Vaughn and took his arm. She was still looking everywhere as they walked toward the hotel entrance. It was like being on a new planet—a beautiful new planet.