We had just about wrapped up for the night and for the thousandth time, I checked my watch. Nine o’clock. Troy said he’d be here between nine and nine-fifteen. I was standing in front of the biggest picture window behind Robert’s desk when he returned from the bathroom. The skyline and city below looked so much better from inside his gigantic piece of the world. Robert quietly leaned over my shoulder.
“I think we’ve done some good work tonight. You really came up with some exciting ideas, Lindsay.”
“I guess taking another stab at it wasn’t so bad,” I said, smiling, looking up at him.
I’d been wondering the whole night about the position of Robert’s large leather swivel desk chair. “Robert, why does your chair always face toward the window?” I asked curiously.
Robert paused, taking a deep breath. “I like to look out onto the world and think about things like life and where I want to be at fifty. It helps me clear my head and strategize what I’ll conquer next,” he said with the look of a warrior in his eyes.
Robert was a deep brother, and for the first time I really looked at him. His skin was dark like a melted Hershey bar, keen features, clean-shaven, and he kept a low haircut. His soft shiny waves gave away that he used an expensive ethnic pomade to keep the tiny strands in place. Robert was lean, six feet, and forty-two. Younger than one would imagine, since he was so powerful in the industry.
“So you plan to conquer it alone? No wife, no kids?” My words had slipped out before I could stop them. Maybe I’d gotten too comfortable? Robert paused again. I got nervous. He turned to me and spoke softly. “Lindsay, relationships distract people from their goals. I guess that’s the very reason I’ve stayed single.”
His words lingered, and so did his eye contact. It seemed that there was a connection a bit deeper than MediaMax . . .
“Excuse me?” Troy said, poking his head in Robert’s office, “Am I interrupting something?”
I was as startled as if he’d just caught me in the arms of another man. Robert’s attitude was just the opposite.
“Can I help you?” he said with an air of arrogance.
“Uh, no, Robert, this is my friend Troy,” I said, fumbling, walking toward Troy. I wanted to hug him, but then I’d be really putting my business out there. Why was I tripping so hard? I had waited all this time to see Troy and now I didn’t even want to greet him properly. Get it together girl!
Before I could make any introductions, Troy had stepped into Robert’s office and was extending his hand.
“Hello, I’m Troy Barnes,” he said, offering a firm handshake.
“Good meeting you,” Robert said, shaking Troy’s hand like he was sizing him up. He didn’t even bother to give Troy his name. Robert then turned to me. He was so good he could dismiss you without you even knowing it, but I knew. He was flat-out dissing Troy.
“Lindsay, I think we’re done. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”
“Thanks Robert,” I said, ushering Troy out as fast as I could. Robert’s stiff body language told me not to even think about getting my groove on too hard tonight. Why was Robert coming off possessive?
I could breathe now, and was glad Troy and Robert’s pissing war was over. The night had started off rocky, but Troy seemed determined to make every aspect of our first date perfect. I loved Italian food and the SoHo restaurant Barolo was one of my favorites. It was elegant, airy, and had a beautiful garden.
Troy and I had been talking for what seemed like hours, just gazing into each other’s eyes. I had a crazy spiritual thing about eyes. Mama said they were the windows to a person’s soul.
“What’s up with the dude at your job? He’s kinda cocky. I don’t dig that,” Troy said, pouring me another glass of Merlot.
I was hoping we could just let that slide. I should’ve known better. “No, my boss Robert’s cool. He’s just a little intense,” I said, slightly defensive.
“I just didn’t know if I was breaking something up or not.” Troy was giving me shit on the sly.
“Troy, you don’t have anything to worry about,” I said, reaching over and gently touching his hand. Troy smiled, taking the subtle hint to let it go. “So, tell me about yourself, Troy.”
“What do you want to know?” he replied.
“Everything!”
“Okay. You may or may not know, I’m a video director, a Virgo, a Morehouse man, of course, and the youngest of three boys. Well, I was,” he said, clearing his throat. “A brotha didn’t mean to get all emotional on the first date, but my oldest brother died three years ago in a car accident.”
We sat silently and awkwardly for a few minutes.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m the baby of three girls, and I don’t know what I’d do if I lost one of my sisters. It must really be hard to deal with.”
“Yeah, it still gets rough sometimes. He was more like a father to me, because our father wasn’t around. He taught me everything,” he said, this time taking a sip of his wine.
“I feel you. There’s a good chance my oldest sister has MS. The doctors are still running a bunch of tests, but I’m praying she doesn’t have it.”
“I’ll say a prayer too.”
“Thanks. A sista didn’t mean to get all emotional on the first date, either.”
We both laughed.
I was starting to dig this guy already. I had to get straight to the point. “So, Troy, is there a lady in your life?”
“C’mon, give a brotha some credit. If I had a woman I wouldn’t be here with you.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that. So when you do have a woman, what kind of things do you like to do?”
“I like to do it all, picnics, horseback riding, anything outdoors. I love to travel, shop, and spontaneity is my middle name.”
I started to blush. Why did I suddenly feel like I was on The Dating Game?
“Look, Lindsay, I don’t want to play games with you. I’m looking to get to know you, get in your head, see what Lindsay’s all about. I’m feelin’ you,” Troy said, looking me in the eye.
I had never heard a man speak his intentions up front before. It let me know it was okay for me to be direct too.
“You know that I dated your boy Randy?” I kept strong eye contact and didn’t blink.
“Are you with him now?”
“No, but it didn’t end well.”
“Lindsay, I’m a grown man and you’re a grown woman and neither one of us is married. The past is the past. He’s my boy, but he don’t run me!”
I’ve been waiting and wishing for an honest and solid relationship ever since I moved to New York. Men have a tendency to get amnesia when it comes to telling the truth, or get flaky when it comes to sticking with plans. After tonight, though, I think we could really be onto something new, exciting and meaningful.
Troy is different from the other men I’ve been dating, with their polished-prep-boy looks and tight bodies. Troy is manly in his six-one build, and I’m champagne and cashmere mixed with some down-home girl-next-door to his Jimi Hendrix “Purple Haze” and Abercrombie & Fitch. Troy is definitely in his own category. His goatee and the big sandy curls that make up his low-fro are an extension of his artistic side.
I’m captivated by his intelligence, too. This man knows about everything from stocks and bonds to world events. Damn, a brother with a good head on his shoulders, husband material. Without a doubt.
Chapter 6
Surprise!
Believe it or not but picking up that brat MJ from day camp last week turned out to be worth it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not easy being in my position. I have really grown to love that boy as if he were my own, but as MJ and his mother, Juanita, like to remind me, those are not my kids. It’s strange, but I didn’t start hearing that until after Michael moved in with me two years ago. I guess like most “baby mamas,” Juanita was hoping she and Michael would get back together one day. I don’t blame MJ. Like most kids he just wants his parents to be together and live in the same hou
se. So I guess the constant “baby mama drama” I experience is in a way justified.
I knew what I was getting myself into when I met Michael. Accepting him and his baggage, including his every-other-weekend-with-the-kids arrangement. After falling in love with him three years ago, this was a price I was willing to pay. Damn, love is strong sometimes.
But like I said, Michael does keep his promises. So what I thought was going to be a typical trip to the grocery store turned into an overnight stay in the Poconos. He found the cutest little bed-and-breakfast online. Gotta love that Internet!
The innkeeper was an older Irish woman, in her late fifties, whose family had owned the property since the thirties. The soft bags under her eyes gave her a striking resemblance to a cocker spaniel. She tended to our every need, from personally showing us to our room to giving us a tour of the quaint town.
“You like the room?” Michael proudly asked as he began to unpack what appeared to be more surprises from an overnight bag. I nodded yes as I made my way over to see. He pulled out a sexy black lace teddy and let it dangle from his fingers. That was my cue. I sexily catwalked over to him, looking up coyly, like a true innocent. This was all part of our game and, ironically, part of our sexual history.
Growing up in a strict church-going family, sex was for marriage only. I wasn’t a virgin when I met Michael but I wasn’t far from it. Michael threw me onto the bed and yanked my jeans off. “You ready for the tootsie roll,” he said, kissing my navel, making his way down to what he calls my tootsie. Then he began rolling that wicked tongue. Bashful, I tried to cover my excitement.
Oral sex was still very taboo to me. Michael pushed my hands away from my face and held them down firmly. “Baby, look at your man when he’s working,” his sexy baritone voice commanded, sending chills up my body. Michael may just be the most romantic man I’ve ever been with, and the freakiest as well . . .
After an erotic shower with Michael, I finally slipped into the teddy and crawled into bed, lying on top of him. “Oh yeah, I forgot to give you this,” Michael said, pulling a little box from underneath the pillow. A beautiful tennis bracelet was inside and I didn’t know what to say.
I find myself being outdone by him all the time. I remember our first date. I was fifteen minutes late, so I arrived with a dozen red roses in hand. I thought I was really doing something. Michael said he’d never gotten flowers before and was impressed.
For our second date, before he picked me up, about twelve dozen long-stem white roses showed up at my job. I was so undone as the delivery guy crammed all those vases into my tiny office, and so was everyone else who was watching. Humph, I think I’m still blushing from that day. Falling in love with him was easy. Michael may have a lot of baggage, but his knack for romance gets me every time.
Relaxed and tension-free, Michael and I were pulling up into the driveway.
“Home sweet home,” I said, following our marvelous weekend away, but I wished we could have stayed up in the Poconos forever. Michael laughed as he opened the car door to let me out.
“I promise to take you away more often. Okay?” Michael said with a loving look.
The telephone was ringing as we entered the apartment. I picked up, noticing our answering machine had been quite busy while we were away.
“Hello?” I said, wondering who the twenty messages were from. It was strange that the same number appeared several times on the screen. Probably one of those computerized solicitors selling something I didn’t need. I jotted down the number on my mini postboard, in case it was important. It was my granny on the other end.
“Hey, Granny.”
“Hey!” she chuckled like she always did when she heard my voice. I loved that about her. No matter how good or bad I felt, I could always count on her to lift my spirits.
“Where has my grandbaby been? I’ve been calling since yesterday and all morning today.” Granny loved to fuss. “That message you left me about MJ had me worried. My grand sounding like she losing her mind down there. Chile, you better talk to me,” Granny demanded.
“Everything is better now. Michael treated me to an overnight getaway. Actually we were just walking through the door,” I said, trying to reassure her that I was fine.
“That’s what I like to hear. Now as for that little MJ, his butt just needs a good beating!” Granny and I both giggled.
“I know that’s right, but I’ll leave that up to Michael,” I said, lowering my voice.
“Why are you whispering? Is Michael nearby?”
“Well sort of. You know how small this apartment is. I’ll call you tomorrow from the office and tell you all about MJ’s little tantrum,” I said.
“Okay, don’t forget. Oh, and before I forget, I wanted to let you know that I spoke to the caterer today. Your Jewish friends will be happy to know there will be no problem providing a few kosher dishes for the wedding,” my granny said, and all I could do was release a sigh of relief.
“What would I do without you!”
“Lord knows I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure Buffalo sees the most extravagant wedding this city has ever seen!”
Ever since my engagement was announced, Granny’s been like the wedding police. And my mother, Joyce, her main deputy.
Okay, so now you know. Michael and I are living in sin. We are not married, but we’re on our way. Michael proposed to me a year ago and I immediately hollered yes! I mean isn’t “Will you marry me?” the question we women wait most of our lives for? The question that drives most of us to the gym, to the beauty salons, and even sometimes to the plastic surgeon. Doing whatever it takes to make sure we’re at our best, hoping to trap a man and get him to say “Will you be my wife?”
Well, that’s exactly what Michael said to me before placing a hell of a ring on my finger. I’m still coming to grips with Michael having children from a previous relationship. It’s overwhelming at times. But the kids aren’t that bad. Like I said, some sacrifices are worth it . . . right?
Chapter 7
Caught Up
I stood proudly next to Robert center stage at Radio City Music Hall. I was running on fumes and pure adrenaline, but we did it! Our presentation was solid, and as the theater emptied out, I soaked it all in for the last time and shifted my focus to Robert, who was finishing up an interview with Entertainment Weekly. No better time than right now.
“Robert, I took to heart our conversation the other day, and I agree in order to make a splash on Exhale it’s gonna take a star. What would you say if I could deliver Alix Alexander?” I said, walking alongside him as we talked.
“I’d say fantastic. But it’ll never happen in a million years. She’s too hot right now. Alix is a huge movie star.”
“I know her and she’s psyched about doing a one-hour show about a female cop who is tormented by her past. All I need to know is if I get her in a room with you and a hot writer, can we do this?” I wasn’t backing down.
“You are persistent, Lindsay Bradley,” Robert said, shaking his head and walking away. I was sure he’d left me hanging, until he turned back around midstride. “But I like it. You pull it together and I’ll guarantee a pilot, maybe even some episodes.”
“That’s all I needed to hear.” I was ready to make my move.
I told Robert when I first took this job that one of my dreams was to produce for television. So, I plan on taking some serious time and putting the elements of this show together: the star, the writer—and then I’ll convince him that I can produce it.
I coasted through the Upfront and Robert was getting praised by the media and the chairman as if he were the prodigal son who had saved the company. Robert made sure my contributions weren’t overlooked. I got a nice mention in daily Variety and the awkward moment exchanged that night in his office was never mentioned again. Robert respects me and he’s proving that he really wants me to succeed. I know he wouldn’t do anything to cross that line and jeopardize everything he’s built.
I got Ro
bert excited about the idea of going after a big star to do a drama series for Exhale. I would produce it and Alix would star. Alix and I had developed a great rapport. We hung out a few more times before she headed back to L.A. to start shooting her new movie. She loved the show idea too. Alix liked to party and have a good time, and I perfected the art of schmoozing, courtesy of my corporate American Express card.
“Lin Lin!” Tara waved me over to the booth where she and Judy were on what looked to be their second round.
“Hey, here’s to the girl who’s the toast of the town. Nice mention in the trades,” Judy said, handing me a fresh Cosmopolitan, as I sat down.
“What’s the 411, ladies?” Judge Judy ordered. Court was in session.
“The 411 is, I got a man! I’m crazy about some Troy y’all. He treats me good and we have so much fun when we’re together. None of that big-dog, shot-caller crap, treating me like I’m an accessory in his life. We talk, vibe, and Troy makes love to my mind.” I was caught up!
“All that’s fab, but what about the sex!” Judy exclaimed.
“No sex,” I said, sipping my drink.
“Excuse me?” Judy interjected, clearing her throat.
“Hold up! Lin Lin. You mean to tell us you haven’t let go of the good stuff yet?” Tara was shocked.
“Nope! This time I wanted things to be different. Maybe have a chance at a lasting relationship. It’s hard ’cause you know I’m a firm believer in giving it up on the first date,” I said, as we all broke into naughty laughter.
“Damn! What’s it been, a month?” Tara rolled her eyes. “But, I hear you. I need that kind of self-control.”
“I’m not mad at you either,” Judy interjected. “All I know is he’s the complete package we all want and strive for, the ‘Ultimate Prize.’ This man could give a girl everything she ever wanted: marriage, seven figures, a palatial estate in Closter, New Jersey, babies, and serious shopping in Barneys’ procreation department,” she said longingly.
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