“Not for long. He’ll soon be dating me.”
“Of course, you’re a ho,” I wanted to say but I kept my mouth shut. I needed a favor so I sucked it up.
“You still friends with any of those boys from the hood?” I asked her.
“You mean Jerome and the Bloods?”
“Yep.” I explained that I needed someone to shake my landlady up. “I just want them to scare the nasty witch a little and get real loud, that’s all I’m asking.”
“What’s in it for me?” Sheena shot back.
“Manny is yours if you back off from Quen. He’s got more money, anyway, and money is what you’re after.”
“Yeah, but Quen’s finer and both men are professionals.”
“You don’t do professional,” I said losing it. “Youse a ho.”
Sheena sucked her teeth loudly. “You want a favor, you give me that new Coach bag you got for your birthday and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Fine. It’s yours.” I didn’t like the damn bag anyway, but I knew it cost a lot of money. I’d pretended to like it because Jen had picked it out. She was trying to class me up, but brown isn’t my color. My taste runs more to hot pinks. I like pizzazz, things that jump out at you. I wanted everyone to see me and know I was coming.
I hung up in her ear. Sheena would take care of it. She’d sell her own mother if there was something in it for her.
Later, I lay on Jen’s sectional couch figuring out where to take Quen to dinner with my commission check that I was due. I was sick and tired of the Pink Flamingo; too many people that we knew plus that’s where Jen always took me.
I thought about the new Flamingo Beach Spa and Resort. It should have fancy restaurants. There was also that steak and seafood place on the boardwalk, although in all my years of living in this town I’d never been there. I’d always wondered why anyone would call a restaurant the Flaming Flamingo? A gay bar I could see but a restaurant? The other option was the Catch All; a popular pick up joint, but this wasn’t about being picked up. This was about having Quen notice me as a woman.
I must have fallen asleep and was dreaming. The next thing I knew someone was shaking me by the shoulders and I opened my eyes to a steady stream of sunlight.
“Quen?” I said sleepily.
“Not Quen, Jen.”
“What time is it?”
“Nine o’clock. Time to go to work.”
It couldn’t be. I scrambled up. “Holy Toledo.” I’d missed my workout session. Now I’d have hell to pay.
As confirmation of that, my cell phone rang.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who was on the other end of the line.
I debated whether or not to pick up. Finally my conscience got the better of me and I reached for it.
“Let it ring,” Jen said, stopping me.
“What if it’s Quen?”
“You can call him back on your time. We have work to do.”
She dropped a stack of letters next to me. “Some of these are a month old. Now go brush your teeth. Later you can make nice.”
Rolling my eyes I hurried off.
Chapter 6
Much as it aggravated me to let the phone ring. I thought it might be a good thing. Let Quen wonder why I hadn’t shown up.
I hurried into the bathroom and took a quick shower. Then I put on my still-damp underwear which I’d forgotten to toss in Jen’s dryer. When I was through I scrambled back into yesterday’s clothing.
Jen had coffee going. She handed me a cup and I sipped slowly waiting to wake up. “You want toast?” she asked.
It was all she was offering so I nodded. My stomach was making funny little noises and if I didn’t eat something I would probably pass out.
I climbed onto a stool at the counter and watched her put that dry toast on a plate.
“You got butter?” I asked
“If you’re on a diet you shouldn’t.”
Dry toast. Yuk! Disgusting. But it was better than nothing. I gobbled that tasteless meal down like it was porterhouse steak.
A couple of hours later Jen allowed me to take a break from my reading. By then I was hallucinating so badly that the golden arches of McDonald’s wobbled before my eyes. I would do just about anything for a double whopper, fries and a vanilla shake. Dang if that woman didn’t have ESP.
“Ten minutes,” Jen warned. “That should give you just enough time to go to the bathroom and return Quen’s call then it’s back to work we go.”
Grabbing my cell phone I made a beeline for her balcony. She didn’t need to hear me talking to him. I checked my messages because I’d left my phone on vibe. Sure enough Quen had left me two. On the last one he’d forgotten to call me “sugar.” That must mean I was in real trouble.
Manny had left a message and so had Sheena. Since I didn’t have time to return all four calls I had to decide which was important.
Okay, getting my stuff back was top of the list. And I really should find out if Sheena had gotten hold of the Bloods. On the other hand, hearing Quen’s voice would make me feel good, and I did owe him an explanation even though he was probably calling to ream me out. Manny must want me to come into work. Initially our agreement had been for weekends but he was relying on me more and more. So what had started out as part-time was quickly becoming full-time. Tonight I had my elocution class. Mr. Cummings was a tough SOB if you missed two classes consider yourself booted.
Now what to do?
“Chere, you’ve got seven minutes,” Jen called from inside the apartment. I had to make at least one call and I needed to use the bathroom.
I dialed into voice mail and got Sheena’s message. She’d come through for me. I guess she wanted that Coach purse badly. When I stabbed the return call button her phone rang and rang until finally voice mail picked up. I left a message.
“Thanks for taking care of that piece of business,” I said. “I’ll call the nasty witch and make arrangements to come by the apartment with a moving truck. Tell Jerome and the Bloods I owe them.”
After I disconnected I stabbed another button and returned Quen’s call.
“I was worried,” he said the minute he recognized my voice. “What happened to you?”
“I’m sorry I overslept.”
I told Quen that I’d gotten locked out of my apartment and how the stress had caused me to oversleep.
“Not good,” he said. “But listen I can’t afford for you to miss another session. It cost me money when these things happen.” He was being nice but I could tell he was ticked. “Can you make up the time this evening?”
“I can’t,” I explained. “I have elocution class. If I don’t show up Mr. Cummings might boot me out.”
“Who’s that?”
“He’s my teacher.”
“Chere. You have two minutes. Time to wrap it up,” Jen called from inside.
I ended the call and told him I’d be there tomorrow. Then I called Manny. He sounded professional. I could tell by his tone he was with a client.
“I called before because the deal with the Houstons looks pretty good. I don’t know how you managed it. They’ve been procrastinating for a year and driving me crazy. Anyway, there financing is set and now they’re pushing hard for a quick closing. The three units are vacant so the process should be relatively easy. I’ll be there with you every step of the way.”
I’m sure he would looking for his piece of the action.
“Alls I’m interested in is collecting my commission check. Those people were damn difficult,” I said. I was sure the only reason they’d made an offer was because the husband got along with Quen.
But a sale was a sale and I was desperate. I had the unexpected expenses of the moving truck and I had to pay for storage space. I’d have to pay back-rent to my witch of a landlady who was threatening to take me to court. Plus I had to come up with the five hundred dollars Jen wanted for her place. Hell, I was damn near close to destitute.
“Chere your ten minutes are up,” Jen snap
ped.
“I’ll be right there.”
“I’ll try to get to you before elocution class,” I said to Manny then I hung up.
Two weeks later, and fifty cents left in my purse, I was at my first closing. The Houston’s sat at one end of the table and my weasel of a boss, Manny, was at my side. Thank God, the Houston’s children had been left home. I’d actually hoped to see the little buggers mischievous as they were. Must be my biological clock ticking.
Manny kept grumbling that he should be getting a bigger cut of the commission. The Houstons had been his clients first and he’d done me a favor by handing them off to me. I wanted to slap him. Did he think I was a fool if he thought they’d end up buying he would never have given them to me.
I sweated through the entire closing. The Houstons had brought their attorney with them and he’d examined every piece of paperwork and made sure every i was dotted and t crossed. I hung in, managing to keep smiling. At the end of it I would get my reward. I needed that check.
Six percent of three units. That would be more money than I’d seen in my lifetime. It would more than make up for the last two weeks of doing without and the pleading and groveling. I’d had to postdate the landlady’s rent check, because whether or not the boys had scared her, she wanted money in hand. My things were being held hostage and I’d paid too much for my furniture to donate it to her.
I’d had to postdate Jen’s rent check as well, but at least she was understanding. I loved her building, especially the view. Everyone was nice except for that meddling cow Camille Lewis. People’s eyes literally popped out of their heads when I proudly announced I lived at 411 Flamingo Place.
The last piece of paper was signed and we shook hands. The Houstons were now acting as if I was the best thing they’d encountered since rye bread. And I was smiling from ear to ear, thinking, “check, check, check I’m in the money.”
“Congratulations, we did it,” Manny said, high-fiving me the moment they’d left. He zoomed in for a kiss while trying to cop a feel at the same time. “Eeeek! You’re getting skinny.” His hand squeezed my butt. I swatted him away. By the hungry look in his eye he was on a mission. “Let’s celebrate over dinner.”
No way. I had other things to do. I’d lost ten pounds and one dress size. It felt good saying I had other plans and actually meaning it.
I was meeting Quen to celebrate this sale, my first one. We needed to talk about his properties and what he wanted to do with them.
“Touch base with me tomorrow,” Manny said, “I’ve been talking with an out of state client who’s looking for a rental. She’ll sign the lease without seeing the actual space. I just need to shoot her a couple of photos of the property.”
“I will.”
I left thinking that I needed to find a place to change clothes and touch up my makeup. I suppose I could use the office bathroom but I didn’t trust Manny not to just walk in. The only option was my old Honda.
Quen and I had agreed to meet at this new Indian restaurant he suggested. The place specialized in vegetarian dishes and that was new to me. Quen had offered to pick me up and he’d made it sound like a real date. I’d declined, telling him I didn’t know how long the closing would take.
Hopefully Taj, the new restaurant, offered something more than rabbit food. I was sick to death of salads and would die for a spoonful of mashed potatoes and a juicy pork chop. But it was my dime we were spending so I should get to eat what I want.
Taj was located smack in the middle of Flamingo Row. It was owned by a white guy with a turban and fake accent. He claimed to have spent time in India and was smart enough to know that his location on Historical Row would draw tourists; lots of them.
The local population when they went out to eat wanted a solid plate of food. And that’s why the chicken-and-rib joints were jumping. They gave you a good-size dish and didn’t cost a fortune.
I sat in the car, stretched my legs out and ditched the panty hose. I had my blouse halfway over my head when a thumping on the car window damn near scared me to death. I tried yanking down the blouse but it got stuck on a layer of fat on my middle. In frustration I pulled the thing over my head and turned to glare at the person. I didn’t care if they saw my triple D cups. As far as I was concerned I had on more clothes than three quarters of the population.
“What do you want, Manny?” I barked when I spotted the weasel.
“You forgot this,” he said, waving an envelope at me while practically dribbling.
In my rush to leave I’d forgotten my check. I needed that money to pay for dinner. I’d planned on pulling into the first check cashing place I saw and happily paying the percentage they charged. I rolled down the Honda’s window and grabbed the envelope.
“Don’t you be spying on me!” I yelled.
Poor Manny he couldn’t pull his eyes away from my boobs. “I’m not spying on you,” he said. “I’m just here to give you your money.”
I thanked him and rolled up the window. After Manny had gone back to wherever he came from, I shoved my large butt into a pair of black pants and pulled a sleeveless black tunic top, the kind that covered your butt, over my head. I missed my bright colors. I had a red scarf still tied around my neck and I made a belt of it. Luckily it fit.
I glanced in the rearview mirror and made a face. All that sweating had my makeup running. I found a tissue and swatted my face. Then I put on blush, eyeliner and mascara and added a slash of red to my lips. A spritz of the perfume I’d helped myself to from Jen’s desk, and I was done. I was going to be late and I still needed to cash that check.
A half an hour later I managed to find a parking spot on a side street off Historical Row. The Row is a people-friendly street that doesn’t allow cars. I’d already called the restaurant and asked the person who answered to let Quen know that I was running late. Hopefully he got the message.
The turban-headed fool who owned Taj stood out front at the entrance greeting people. He stood next to a big ceramic elephant and the elephant truthfully looked better than him.
“Do you have a reservation?” he asked me as if I smelled.
“As a matter of fact I do.” I swept by him and entered a little courtyard with about a dozen tables. A bunch of potted palms had white lights on them. I still didn’t see Quen.
“Can we get you seated?” the owner asked, on my heels, breathing down my neck. He was acting as if he expected me to steal the stuff on the tables.
“I’m meeting somebody,” I tossed over my shoulder and, waddled into the darkened interior with more flickering lights, except these were candles. There was a strong smell of incense everywhere.
“Over here, sugar,” Quen’s voice called from a dark corner.
He straightened to his full height of six foot four and my breath caught in my throat. By the light of the illuminating candles I caught a glimpse of a green polo shirt, the kind with the fancy logo, and tan slacks. The material of that shirt was stretched tight across his broad chest. Dark hairs escaped the two little buttons opened at his throat. Dang the man was fine.
Quen had chosen a table on the other side of another ceramic elephant. At first I thought maybe he didn’t want to be seen with me. A man who looked like Quen had to have plenty of action. Discreet action; look at the number of women he trained; and most of them didn’t look like me, many were skinny as a rail. I got over putting myself down really quick when he approached and took my hand, giving it a little squeeze.
“This is the lady I was waiting for,” he said to the owner. “Isn’t she just about the finest thing you’ve ever seen?”
Turban head cleared his throat and nodded in agreement. He must know who was paying the bill.
In front of all the diners Quen kissed my cheek. My knees knocked so hard I thought I would fall and my heart jumped a hurdle. Quen was coming around and recognizing that I had sex appeal. Manny Varela obviously thought I did, and so did Dickie Dyson of Dyson Luxury Limousines. Chumps that they both were.
&
nbsp; With all those people staring, I followed Quen to our table. It was a lucky thing he had a good grip on my hand.
When we were seated he said, “Baby girl, you are looking good.”
I wasn’t sure how to take that. I mean he’d seen me just yesterday for one of our sessions. When he reached over and stroked my bare arm I shivered.
“Cold?”
“Not at all.”
“So why are you trembling?”
He’d noticed. He made a muscle with my arm. “Just look at that. You are getting toned.”
Quen’s open admiration was just the incentive I needed. He was acting like I was pita and I’d only lost ten pounds. What would happen when I was down fifty? Would he jump my bones? Wishful thinking on a girl’s part.
An Indian waiter was lurking about trying to be invisible. Quen turned over the drink menu, glanced at it and handed it to him. “We’re just having water, right?”
“Right.” I could use a beer but didn’t need the lecture.
When the waiter left I stuck my nose in the regular food menu and didn’t recognize a thing. “What would you recommend?”
“Everything. It’s all good and freshly made.”
Quen began telling me about the various dishes and the ingredients that went into making them. None of them sounded particularly appealing but I listened, pretending to be interested. I even managed to sound smart, tossing in a question or two about calories and cholesterol counts, not that I’ve ever paid much attention. I was just happy to be with Quen and in my head I was thinking about what our children would look like.
We picked our meals and Quen placed the order. While we waited to be served I brought up the subject of his two apartments.
“What do you think about multiple listing?” I asked. “You want those apartments moved quickly, right?”
“Right on, sugar. Keeping them empty is costing me a fortune.”
“I’ll get them rented for you,” I promised, and I meant every word. I was going to get those condos rented if it killed me.
With all those candles flickering, low music in the background and intimate conversation around me, I was starting to feel like we were on a real date. And because I really liked Quen, I needed to know about the competition.
All About Me Page 6