by Robinson, Cheryl; Smith, Meta; King, Joy; Parks, Electa Rome
I visited the radio stations Power 92 and Soul 106.3, then we headed back into the city to my alma mater, where I did a concert and gave away CDs and posters and things. Finally, we headed back downtown, where I received the key to the city. All of this was accomplished by early afternoon. It’s like that army commercial: I do more by 9:00 A.M. than most folks do all day.
We took a well deserved food and champagne break at Tavern on Rush, gorging ourselves on platters of food that would take weeks to work off, and drinking more than our share of Veuve Cliquot Rosé.
“Did you have any boyfriends that weren’t crazy?” Leslie asked me.
I wanted to mention the ex I’d dreamt about, but I didn’t. In every woman’s life there is at least one man that she just can’t shake. He gets so deep down into her soul that no matter what, she’ll always use him as the guide by which she measures every other man she meets. He’s the man a woman will play herself for over and over again, leading her friends and family to think that she’s on drugs or lost her mind. He’s the man who can get you to get out of bed at two in the morning and drive across town in the pouring rain just to get a little loving. He’s the one who causes aftershocks to rumble through your body at the mere memory of his bedroom antics. My dream lover was that man.
But instead of telling them about him, I went for shock value and gave them one last tale.
“Yeah, sure,” I told them. “I dated some normal guys. But most of them were crazy. One almost drove me crazy too. My college sweetheart gone sour, Cali stressed me so much I almost had a nervous breakdown. We met in Spanish class and fell in love and dated for three years, but they were not a good three years. He was possessive and jealous and had a very short temper. People used to call us Ike and Tina because we argued so much, and because he thought he was a producer who was going to make me famous. It was a trip. But what folks didn’t realize was how close to the truth they were. On top of all his obvious problems, he had a drinking problem, and he used to yell at me a lot. A couple of times he got violent and we fought. It was…ugly. I stayed in it because I loved him and I thought that I could help him. He basically kept treating me like shit in return, finally cheating on me with a stripper, getting her pregnant, and marrying her.”
“Dayum,” was the collective response at the table.
Then I changed the subject. Thinking about Cali put a damper on my mood that I hadn’t expected; I thought I’d look back at my experiences with him and laugh, but I didn’t. Whoever said that when you’re a success you look back on the painful parts of your life and laugh, didn’t know what the hell they were talking about. I’d had enough of talking about my pathetic love life, so I talked about the part of my life that didn’t suck: my career. I chattered away about how I wanted my hair, nails, and makeup at my platinum party, and we argued over what I was going to wear until the table fell silent and I felt a tap on my shoulder. Everyone was staring at the person I felt standing behind me.
“Songbird, is that you?” a baritone voice boomed. I didn’t have to turn around to see the face in order to recognize the voice. Only one man called me Songbird. It was him, the lover from my dreams, my ex-boyfriend, Spock. I was taken aback and clearly shaken, and I almost knocked the bottle of champagne over. Get it together, I scolded myself.
“Well, well, well, Spock. Imagine running into you here,” I said coolly, extending my hand for him to kiss. I was the definition of a diva.
There was crazy chemistry between the two of us, and it was obvious to anyone by my feigned indifference and the grin on his face that we had history. Everyone was staring at me now and looked like they wanted to explode with questions. Spock smiled and played along, gallantly lifting my hand to his lips and kissing it, maintaining a steady gaze directly in my eyes. He has amazing, soft, light brown eyes that aren’t quite hazel, and long lashes, a fact a lot of people miss because he always wears his glasses.
“You look beautiful as usual,” he said, still grinning.
“Yes,” I replied, turning away from him.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your gentleman friend?” Leslie asked.
“This is no gentleman,” I said with a little attitude, then laughed to cover any trace of bitterness. As much as I loved him, he’d hurt me, and I wasn’t really over it. Everyone laughed with me. “I’m sorry. Leslie, Karl, Bonita, this is Spock.” He shook hands with them and stood beside the table awkwardly. They looked him over from head to toe, eyes scrutinizing every inch. He looked immaculate in his Hugo Boss suit, shiny dress shoes, and crisp dress shirt with monogrammed French cuffs fastened with gold cuff links, but I could tell he felt uncomfortable.
“Well, it was good seeing you,” he finally said, clearing his throat and straightening his tie. He placed his business card on the table in front of me. “In case you forgot,” he said, and excused himself.
I pretended not to, but I watched him walk out of the restaurant and down the street, growing smaller and smaller until he disappeared. Back in the limo, I acted like the exchange didn’t happen, but of course my crew wasn’t going to let it die.
“That sure was a handsome brother back at the restaurant,” Leslie said. I could tell she was waiting for me to elaborate.
“He’s all right.”
“So what’s the deal with him?” Karl asked.
“An ex,” I said casually.
“We figured as much,” Bonita said knowingly. “But what’s the deal?”
“He’s a liar and a cheater and he’s too wrapped up in his work. Nuff said.” I dug into my purse, found my iPod, slipped the headphones into my ears, and stared blankly out the window all the way back to the hotel.
I was tripping off the fact that I literally dreamed Spock up. I wasn’t expecting to see him, at least not until the party if at all. I was full of mixed emotions. Spock was a brother who took my body to heaven and my mind through hell. Things were great for us in the beginning, as they almost always are in any relationship. We were set up by mutual friends, and it seemed that we had everything in common. He loved music like I loved music, maybe even more, but he was an engineer by trade, and a very successful one at that. He had a big muckety-muck job with the city, a great loft in the West Loop, and a convertible BMW, not to mention he was very, very well-endowed.
He was also a University of Chicago graduate, was in a fraternity, and he was a gentleman. He was pretty cute too. He looked good in person and on paper, and I really cared about him. I did everything I could think of to please him, including cleaning his house and cooking for him and leaving meals in his freezer to be reheated later so he wouldn’t spend so much money on junk food and eating out. Things were perfect. Too perfect.
Of course, Spock wasn’t perfect, he was a cheater. I found out that he had another girlfriend, some lawyer chick, whom he neglected to tell me about. That’s when his ugly side reared its head. His punk ass wasn’t even man enough to face the music. He pulled a straight up bitch move and wouldn’t answer my calls or texts when I wanted to get to the bottom of things. That instantly turned me off. And when we broke up, that was when I got the idea to leave Chicago, because if he was the best that Chicago had to offer, I was better off somewhere else.
I moved to Miami and didn’t look back. Everything fell into place once I moved. I got a job bartending at this restaurant called Mango’s on South Beach, where the staff all did sexy dances on top of the bar. We weren’t strippers but wore these skimpy little animal print catsuits and bodysuits and shook our maracas and poom-pooms to salsa, reggeaton, reggae, you name it. I learned a gang of Latin dances plus I met all the movers and shakers in Miami and high-profile tourists, including plenty of people in the music biz. I scored gigs singing and dancing backup for Latin artists, which paid the rent and bills and led to writing songs in both English and Spanish, which led to my getting a record deal of my own. I guess I should thank Spock for being a man-whore. If I hadn’t found out what a lying dog he was, I might have still been in Chicago chasing
dreams and him.
Leslie tapped me on the shoulder, and I removed my earplugs.
“One last question. Why do you call him Spock?” she asked. “I know that isn’t his given name.”
“Because he’s a nerdy know-it-all that is only half human. The other half is a cold, emotionless Vulcan, just like Spock on Star Trek. Remember how women used to dig him but he’d remain detached and aloof? That’s Spock for you. He’s great with facts and figures, and his mind and body go through the motions of life, but I’m not sure if he has a heart.”
I replaced the earplugs and stared out the window. The undisputable truth that stared back at me in the darkly tinted glass was that I was still in love with Spock, even if he was heartless and manipulative. It disgusted me to want someone who had hurt me so, and disgusted me more that not only did I want him, but my body craved him and I dreamt of him. I felt a pull in my midsection every time he was near, and I know that he felt it too. I might sound delusional to you, but I know what I know. We just had it like that. And it wasn’t just because we had amazing sex. It was something more. The fact that he cheated on me didn’t change that.
I felt my purse vibrating from the ringing phone inside. I pulled out my Treo and saw that there was a text message.
Great running into u. I know ur busy, but think u can meet me 4 a drink 2nite? I’d luv 2 show u my nu crib.
I stared at the phone until the display faded to black and then pushed a few buttons to look at it some more.
“Just go,” Leslie said. She’d peeped the message over my shoulder.
I furrowed my brow and pursed my lips crossly. I sighed and thought about it. What did I have to lose? I had the upper hand. I was rich and famous. Yes, he’d broken my heart, but he still wanted me. I saw it in his eyes. Then a more sinister thought crossed my mind. I’d finally have the chance to pay him back for breaking my heart. What could be better than dangling myself like a carrot in front of his nose and letting him chase me? I would tease him, drive him crazy with lust, and then I would reject him cold. He’d be left with the angst of seeing my image every time he turned on the television, and the torture of hearing my voice every time he turned on the radio, but he wouldn’t have me. And I’d finally have a sense of satisfaction and closure and be able to move on with my life.
I texted back:
Let’s meet at Ruth’s Chris. Maybe I’ll go see your crib later.
I thought about my dream, the reality that inspired it, and the effect he had on me then and now. He was the best lover I’d ever had. The things he made me feel, both physical and mental, were dangerous. He pushed me to the limit and challenged me in every aspect, and I had an insatiable appetite when it came to him. He had me so twisted out of shape when we dated; I went through a ton of ups and downs because of him.
Willpower, girl, I told myself. I had to have willpower. And I had to remember that I had the upper hand. I’m the star! He’s just a groupie. We arranged to meet at nine.
Once we reached the hotel, Leslie and I let the glam squad use the limo to go shopping, and we went upstairs to my room. The smell of flowers hit us as soon as we opened the door to the suite.
“Right on cue,” Leslie said. “I told you this was going to happen, didn’t I?”
“What the hell?” I asked, looking around at the forest that had been transported into the room.
“Someone’s making their move,” Leslie said, nudging me with her elbow.
“These are not from Spock,” I told her.
“Well no, not all of them, silly. But I bet he had an arrangement sent.”
“What makes you think that?” I asked her.
“He seems like such a classy guy.”
“He is classy, but flowers aren’t his style. Vulcans think flowers are a frivolous gift. To buy something that will undoubtedly die is illogical,” I said, doing my best Leonard Nimoy imitation, which wasn’t that good. “Besides, they couldn’t have gotten here that quickly.”
“Only one way to find out,” Leslie said. I could tell her curiosity was getting the best of her.
“I don’t care. You look,” I said, and nodded my approval. She ran about, collecting the cards from the various bouquets placed around the room. She rifled through them, scanning each one.
Wondering what to wear on my date with Spock, I began to sift through outfits, trying to decide if I should roll with something I already owned or wait to see what the glam squad brought me back from their shopping trip.
“Ah ha!” Leslie said with excitement. “I knew it!”
“Knew what?” I asked. Could it be? Could Spock have found a true romantic bone in his body and sent me a bouquet?
“Oh, I was just looking at this card for these flowers, but you don’t care, do you?”
I rolled my eyes. “Who are they from?” I tried to conceal it, but I was a little eager to know who’d sent them.
“They’re from…the label,” she said, laughing. “Gotcha!”
“Good Lord!” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’m going to take a shower. Are we done here?” I asked her.
Leslie was staring at a card with a concerned expression on her face.
“Who’s that one from?” I asked.
“Huh?” she said, looking up, then smiling a tight-lipped smile.
“You were staring at that card kind of hard. Who were the flowers from?” I asked her.
“Oh, girl, just the hotel. I couldn’t understand the handwriting,” she explained, then tore the card into little pieces.
Chorus
This may sound a little vain, but I had Karl and Bonita ride in the limo with me on the way to my date with Spock. I wanted to make sure I looked devastatingly beautiful when I saw him so that I’d be impossible to resist, but I planned on resisting the hell out of him. After what he did to me and how he hurt me, there was no way in hell any woman with any self-worth would give up the goodies. Right? Naturally! Still, I knew that I was going to be very, very tempted.
I was working my bright red wrap dress as I strolled into the restaurant, aware of how the silky fabric hugged every curve and moving my body in a way that would ensure that everyone else was aware of it too. I looked like I stepped off a magazine cover, with my perfectly applied makeup and not a hair out of place. I looked around to locate Spock, but he was nowhere to be seen. I took a seat at the bar and looked at my Rolex. I was giving him fifteen minutes, the same amount of time it would take for me to down a glass of single-barrel Jack on the rocks with just a splash of tonic and a twist of lime and not look like a total lush.
I felt a little conspicuous. My grand entrance was wasted on Spock, but not on the patrons who, upon recognizing me, began to murmur and point and ask for autographs. I was definitely starting to get pissed off, but kept a fake smile plastered across my face. It was nearing the fifteen minute mark and Spock was nowhere to be found. I couldn’t be rude and just get up abruptly and walk out the door and leave people hanging, but I didn’t want to be there if he arrived a half hour late, or worse, if he never showed up.
Finally, I excused myself from my fans to go to the ladies’ room. I was going to reapply my lipstick and then hot-tail it out of there. I had to stop myself from looking at my cell phone to see if he’d called. What did it matter if he had some excuse? I was Lucky! I didn’t have to wait for any man. He should have been early, if anything! I checked myself out in the mirror, and with my fake smile still in place and my head held high, walked confidently out the bathroom and toward the front door.
“Going somewhere?” Spock asked. He was standing at the hostess station, arms folded across his chest and smiling.
“You better know it, buddy. You’re late! I’m outta here!” I said, moving to the side to step around him. He reached out and grabbed me, pulling me into an embrace.
“I wasn’t late, Songbird,” he breathed into my ear. “I just didn’t want to disturb your groove. You were surrounded by fans.”
“Yeah right,” I said doubtfully, pulling
away from him.
“I’m serious. I was here early. I stepped into the men’s room. I had to make sure I looked my best, you know,” he said, still grinning.
“Mmm-hmm,” I replied. I wasn’t buying it for a minute.
“Honestly, you can ask the hostess,” he said. I pursed my lips and rolled my eyes.
“How much did you pay her to lie?” I asked.
“What? You don’t believe me?” He shook his head in disbelief.
“We all know how you lie,” I said sourly.
“Don’t be that way,” he said.
“I’m not being any way,” I said quickly. I hadn’t been with him for five minutes and already I was playing myself. I couldn’t let him know how much our past relationship had hurt me. That would be giving him the upper hand.
Conveniently, the hostess interrupted us. “Your table is ready,” she said.
“I thought we were having cocktails,” I said to Spock.
“You’re not hungry?” he asked. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone all Hollywood and stopped eating. The Lucky I know will eat anything at any given hour.”
“I haven’t changed,” I said with a laugh as we were ushered to our seats in the private dining room. I nodded approvingly and told him, “You know I want a filet Oscar, and a bunch of appetizers.”
“I know, that’s why I took the liberty of calling ahead to make sure they could prepare it for you,” he said. “Songbird, you don’t even have to look at the menu. Anything you could want is already on its way.” Damn, he was as debonair as ever. That was a classic Spock move, not something he was doing just because I got famous and he was kissing up. He always took care of the smallest details and made sure that each and every single time we were together he did something small but big to show me that I was special and appreciated. Spock’s only flaw was that I couldn’t trust him, and that’s a pretty big flaw.