Now she was gone. Tandi and MJ both. Jared had not bothered to beg Tandi to stay. Nothing he could have said would have made a difference. Tandi had made up her mind, she had gone off in a zone, like a bat out of hell, blind and deaf to him, and had stormed around the house packing her and MJ’s bags. And poor MJ, he didn’t know what was going on. Bewildered, MJ kept looking at him as if to say, “Do something, Dad.” Short of snatching Tandi and shaking some sense into her, he didn’t know what to do and didn’t want to fight it out with her in front of MJ. Feeling helpless, he finally left the house to keep from putting his hands on his wife.
“Hey, man, you been making love to that drink for the past hour.”
Jared hadn’t paid much attention to the bald-headed, clean shaven, shaggy-browed bartender standing in front of him. “I’m not a drinker.”
“Coulda guessed that, my man. If it was a woman or the lack of money making you brood like that, if you was a drinking man, you woulda tossed back ten of those rum and Cokes by now. Which one of them your problem?”
The nosiness of people never ceased to amaze Jared. He glanced around the room. Sitting at the far end of the bar to his right were two men smoking and drinking, deep in conversation. Behind him a man was drinking a beer, his eyes were glued to the television high up on the side wall. Jared looked back at the bartender, who seemed to be waiting for him to answer, like he expected him to answer.
“Hey,” the bartender said, lowering his voice, “I ain’t trying to get in your business or nothing, but I figured you might wanna talk.”
“That’s what you figure, huh?”
“Yep. Men who don’t drink don’t make it a habit of coming in here late on a work night, as cold as it is, unless it’s to watch a special sports event on cable, or if they’re looking to connect with a naked body to keep them warm. This isn’t a sports night, and you don’t look like you’re looking for a warm body. Am I right?”
Gulping down his drink, Jared grimaced at the bitter taste. He had forgotten that rum and Coke wasn’t a smooth drink. It had been a long time since his partying days and even then, he had not been a heavy drinker. That’s why he’d ordered a rum and Coke, thinking that the soda would dilute the rum. He plopped the empty glass down on the bar and pushed it toward the bartender, but he shook his head to another drink. Maybe he did need to talk. Tandi had messed up his head on this one.
The bartender persisted. “Man, I’m all ears.”
“Okay. Tell me. Why is it that women are so damn emotional?”
The bartender picked up Jared’s glass and set it in a pan of soapy water under the bar. “Because women have too much estrogen.”
“That simple, huh?”
“Check it out. Men have a gallon of testosterone, a manly hormone, and a drop of estrogen, a woman’s emotional hormone. Women have a gallon of estrogen and a drop of testosterone. You don’t need a college degree to figure which sex is gonna ride an emotional roller coaster and drive the other crazy.”
Jared didn’t have to think about that.
“Damn right. A woman can sho ’nuff put a hurtin’ on a man with them emotions. Personally, I’d rather go a few rounds with Tyson than deal with a tight ass and a pretty smile when a woman’s acting all emotional.”
“I can understand that,” Jared said. “I feel like I’ve gone a few rounds myself.”
The bartender wiped a ring of water off the bar. “How about you, man? You down for the count or still trying to duck?”
Jared leaned on the bar. “Man, I’m on the ropes trying to figure out what the hell went wrong. I work ten-hour days, five days a week, six hours on Saturday. I’m not running the streets, I’m not sniffing behind women, and I’m not glued to a basketball or football game on my day off. Anything and everything my wife wants, I give to her, without question. And do you know what she said?”
The bartender placed both elbows on top of the bar and leaned toward Jared. “She said, ‘You don’t love me, you ain’t got time for me, and you can’t get it up for me.’ ”
Jared raised his fist, and he and the bartender tapped fist to fist. “Man, I don’t get it. My wife likes good things. How am I supposed to get her what she wants without working for it?”
“Die and leave her your insurance.”
“Nah, man. My wife isn’t like that. She likes to spend money, but she isn’t greedy.”
“Yeah, but if you were sitting on your ass or making minimum wage, she wouldn’t’ve married you.”
“Maybe not, but—”
“Listen, man,” the bartender said, “a lot of women marry men who’re making minimum wage or sitting back on their ass. I see it all the time in here. Some of them women got fine minds, fine bodies, and they make that long fine money. The kicker? I’ve seen them bring that money right down here to Daddy on payday.”
“Damn, it’s like that?”
“Damn right, and do you know why those dudes got it that way?”
“I’m sure I can guess.”
“I’ll tell you. Those dudes are taking care of business at home. For some women, that’s priority.”
Jared shifted on his barstool.
“The way I see it,” the bartender said, “there are three types of women: the kind who want a man at all costs, the kind who want the money at all costs, and the kind who want both.”
Jared nodded.
“Take a woman like your wife. She’s type three. She wants all the fine things your fine money can buy, but she wants you, too.”
“And she has it all—me and my money.” Jared lowered his voice even more. “I’m not gonna lie to you, I did cheat on my wife three years back, but I’ve been faithful since then. Right now, I just can’t spend a lot of time with my wife. I’m working hard. I—”
“Wait a minute. Back up. Did you say you cheated?”
Again, Jared shifted on his barstool. “Yeah, but it’s been over, and I thought my wife forgave me.”
“Man, women don’t forget or forgive a cheating man—ever. That’s their ammo for when they wanna kick your ass.”
“Yeah, but—”
“You fucked up.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Les!” one of the two men down at the far end of the bar called to the bartender.
“Back in a minute, partner. I gotta make my money.” Les moved swiftly down the length of the bar to the two men.
Jared checked his watch. He wondered if Tandi had actually left the house. He was hoping she had changed her mind and was still at home.
“Like I was saying,” Les said, stepping back into the spot he had briefly vacated, “you fucked up. We all do it. It’s like second nature to us, but it’s a big deal to women, especially to a good woman, and it seems to me like you got yourself a good woman. If it was just your money she wanted, she wouldn’t be asking you to spend more time with her.”
“Yeah, but I gotta work.”
“What’s your name, partner?”
“Jared.”
“I’m Les. This is my place.”
They shook hands.
“Nice,” Jared said.
“Thanks. How long you been married, Jared?”
“Thirteen years.”
Les set a wineglass in front of Jared. From a small refrigerator under the bar he took a half-full bottle of domestic champagne. “This is on the house,” he said, pouring the champagne.
“No, I—”
“Take the drink, man,” Les insisted. “Drink to surviving thirteen years with one woman and to your good fortune at having a wife who still wants you. Think about it: Headaches were invented for women who no longer wanna give it up to their husbands.”
Jared hadn’t looked at it that way. Maybe he was lucky Tandi still wanted him to make love to her. He took a big gulp from his glass. The champagne was cold, but it had long ago lost its tang.
“Check this out,” Les said. “What did God invent for a man who no longer wanted the same old stale wife?”
Jared really wasn’t interested. He barely blinked.
“A young woman with big tits and a huge ass.” Les laughed at his own joke. Jared didn’t. “Man, you need to cheer up. I could hook you up with some prime stuff. Make you forget your own name.”
“Man, that’s not for me. I learn from my mistakes.”
“Then you’re the kinda guy who needs to be married. Take my advice. Give your wife a little attention, make love to her, and make her holler a little. Maybe a lot. She’ll let off steam, she’ll be happy until the next time. Just don’t make her wait too long for the next time.”
Jared couldn’t admit to Les that making love to Tandi was a major part of the problem. “That’s not it, man.”
“I bet you a round of drinks it is,” Les wagered. “I know women, and women need a lot of loving. When they’re not getting it, that’s when they’re not happy. That’s when they start looking around. How old are you? Forty, forty-five?”
“Somewhere in there.”
“See, that might be the problem. I’m fifty-two myself. When I got in my forties, I started losing that drive, you know what I mean?”
Jared didn’t care to hear about another man’s problems with getting it up. “I gotta be going.”
“Hold up,” Les said, putting his hand on Jared’s arm. “See, that’s why we men have problems—we don’t talk. I ain’t talking about that bragging crap we did in the locker room back when we was kids. I’m talking about the real deal. Women? They talk about everything. If a woman hasn’t had but one man in her whole life, she knows how other men do it because women tell one another those intimate things. Women talk about sex everywhere they go. They sho ’nuff talk about it in here. Some of the stuff they say you wouldn’t believe. They’re hornier than we are. Man, they talk about sex on the job, in the grocery store, and you know when they go to the bathroom together when they’re out in public? They’re telling on each other’s man then. I believe they tell each other stuff in church, too. That’s how come they’re always giggling at the minister.”
“Oh, come on,” Jared said, chuckling.
“It’s true. Women know more about what’s in our pants than we do, and a handful of them ugly ones probably have never even seen a man with his pants down. If their girlfriends aren’t telling ’em, they reading about it in some book on how to make love to a man. In fact, a woman came in here the other night with her girlfriends with a book in her hand. She couldn’t put the damn thing down long enough to get her drink on.”
“Do you know what she was reading?”
“I found out. I asked. It was Somebody’s Gotta Be On Top by Mary B. Morrison.”
“That’s some title,” Jared said.
“Man, the woman couldn’t stop reading long enough to tell me what the book was about. Said she was at a real good part. Now what do you think she was reading about?”
“Well, if the title is indicative of what the story is about, then—”
“Sex, man! S-E-X. The cover of the book had this woman laying on her back with a blood-red cherry in her ruby-red lips looking like she could take us both on. Yesterday, I had my woman go out and buy the book so I can see what’s in it, but she started reading it and won’t give it to me.”
Jared chuckled. “That book must be hot.”
“Women read, man. They’re not like us. They don’t do much guessing, they go for the facts or read a lot of books with sex in them. What about you, Jared? When was the last time you read a relationship book or talked to a buddy about your problem?”
“I don’t have a problem.”
“Give up the lie, man,” Les whispered, leaning in closer to Jared. “I bet you didn’t have a problem getting it up for that woman you had the affair with, but with your wife, you couldn’t hold a feather up if it was starched. Man . . .”
Jared glanced sheepishly from one side to the other. He was hoping no one had heard what Les was saying to him.
“. . . I talk to a lot of guys who come through here, and I know of what I speak. Nine out of ten, at one time or other, got a problem getting it up.”
“That many?”
“Yep. And I’ve helped most of them.”
A skeptical look farrowed Jared’s brow.
“I’m serious, man. If you have a problem, you need to go down to the health food store and get yourself some Irish moss. They got it already bottled—it looks and tastes like a vanilla shake. Buying it already made up is kinda expensive though, but you could buy raw Irish moss and boil it up with some milk. It’s more potent that way anyhow. Man, pump you right up.” Les thrust his fist up and held it strong.
That, Jared was interested in. “So how does it work?” he asked, offhandedly.
“Hell if I know, I ain’t no chemist. Something in it makes it work. You drink a couple bottles of that stuff for a few days before getting it on with your wife, she’ll have to beat you off top of her with a stick. Bet she won’t feel unloved after that.”
“How do you know it works? It could be a placebo and you just think it works.”
Les drew back and tugged on the waistband of his jeans. “I know it works, I drink it myself. I keep that stuff made up and ready in my refrigerator at home. My woman has never had a complaint. She smiles a hell of a lot. I guarantee you.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it, Les, but what about Viagra? You ever try it?”
“Why should I give somebody ten dollars a pill when I can make up a gallon of my own hard-on medicine for less than that? I ain’t rich.”
“Yeah, but Viagra really works.”
“Man, I’m sticking with the Irish moss. Pumps me right up, hard as a pipe.” Les gave Jared the okay sign with his fingers.
Jared was pensive. It was a hell of a thing, if it worked.
“Look, man, you owe it to your woman to try it.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe, my ass. Going without makes a sweet woman bitter, and a bitter woman makes a man’s life hell. That’s when she starts nagging. That’s when she starts sitting around on her ass all day eating candy, watching soap operas and all those busybody wanna-be talk show psychologists. Those shows get a lot of men in trouble, you know.”
This time, Jared had to laugh. This guy, know-it-all that he was, was blatantly bold with his barroom psychology but Jared had to admit he wasn’t as depressed as he had been when he first came in.
“Your wife put on a lot of weight since you married her?”
“Nah, man, my wife has a good body.”
“So she looks good?”
“She’s beautiful.”
“Well then, man, you’d better get yourself some Irish moss. If you think you have a problem now with your wife, wait till she starts looking at other men and they give her what she needs.”
That was something Jared never had to worry about with Tandi and didn’t want to think about now. He couldn’t imagine her with another man.
“Okay, I see you’re skeptical.”
“No, it’s just that I figure my wife isn’t interested in other men or she wouldn’t be haranguing me.”
“Then give the woman some of your time, man. Women like to have their asses kissed, and when we’re chasing ’em, we kiss and suck ass real good. That’s what’s wrong with us, we take our women for granted. If I were you, I’d work those weekdays just like you doing, but I wouldn’t work on Saturday or Sunday. I’d wine and dine my woman.”
“But, my practice—”
“Man, keep doing it the way you’re doing, your wife is gonna find herself another man to strike up a fire in between her thighs. Before you know it, the only thing you gonna have is your practice.”
Jared had to concede that Les could be right.
“I’ll tell you something else,” Les said. “A lot of the women who come in here by themselves or with their girlfriends, are far from single. And they’re not here just to get a drink. They get picked up by dudes ready to give them what their husbands can’t or won’t.”
“You
see a lot, don’t you?”
“A hell of a lot.”
“You married, Les?”
“Nah, man. I’ve been divorced three times, and I’m running in place trying hard to not get married again.”
Jared laughed out loud. “That’s deep. Man, I feel like I’ve been getting marriage counseling from Henry the Eighth.”
“Hey, it wasn’t my fault none of my marriages worked. My wives were jealous. I gave them plenty of loving and lots of time. They just had a problem with me tending my own bar and talking to women every night.”
“Did you meet all your wives here?”
“Yep.”
Chuckling, Jared took a final sip of his warm, flat champagne. Then pulling out his billfold, he peeled off a twenty-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”
“Class,” Les said, taking the money. “I like that. Don’t be a stranger. I’d be interested in knowing how you and your woman make out.”
Since he didn’t feel any better about his problem and alcohol still wasn’t his cup of tea, Jared doubted if he’d ever step foot in Les’s bar again.
“You take it easy.” He shook Les’s hand.
“You, too, brother.”
All the way to the car Jared thought about what Les had said. Some of it made sense. He was going to look into that Irish moss, and he was going to do his best to give Tandi more time. That is, if she didn’t leave him for good. Where would she go, if she did?
7
For almost an hour, Tandi had been driving in circles. She didn’t know where to go. If Daina had been home or better still, if she had made it to Daina’s house before she left town, she would have gotten Daina’s new set of house keys and she would have had a place to stay. Evonne simply didn’t have the space in her one-bedroom apartment and neither did Glynn. Michael Jared was slumped down in the passenger seat with his hood pulled low over his face. He was warm because the car’s heater was working fine, but still, Tandi had to take him somewhere so that he could get a good night’s sleep, and the only place she could think of was a place she had said “never again” about. Her father’s house—Sporty’s house as she liked to call it. Never say never came to mind more than once when she found herself sitting out in front of the last place in the world she wanted to be. It had been eighteen years since she left home, and she had vowed to never come back there to live, but now that she was older, she knew life had a way of making one eat one’s words.
Distant Lover Page 5