by A.L. Bridges
****
“Cole… Cole… wake up, Cole,” Cheza whispers in my ear. I turn over and look at her.
“What’s wrong, Cheza?” I ask, not even remotely groggy.
“We are leaving soon. You need to get ready,” Cheza softly says and then turns to leave.
I stand up quickly, turn her around, and give her a hug. She has a sharp intake of breath on step two of that plan… probably just from surprise.
“Happy birthday, Cheza,” I whisper.
Is it just me or is it a little chilly in here for May? I find it kind of strange that Cheza hasn’t said anything. The usual response would be ‘thanks,’ like she said this morning… unless there was something keeping her from talking… like shock. My face starts to fall.
No… Tia wouldn’t do something like, oh I don’t know, sneak into my bedroom while I was sleeping, strip off my clothing, and then send Cheza in here to wake me up so that she can film my reaction…
No… uh-uh… there’s just no way.
Just then a breeze from the A/C blows across my bare ass.
DAMMIT TIA! Okay, look on the bright side: At least you don’t have an erection!
Suddenly an image of that dream I had of Cheza in the pink babydoll pops up.
DAMMIT!
“Umm… Cole?” Cheza awkwardly asks. “Did you know that—”
“Shhh. I’m trying to think of a way out of this,” I tell her.
“I think I can help with that,” Tia says, offering a mercy killing. She covers Cheza’s eyes and turns her out the door. “Now, both of you need to get ready or we will be late for our reservation. Oh and Chezarei, Sara has something special for you…”
This isn’t over Tia. I pick out some nice clothes to wear, jump in the shower, shave, and put on some Kenneth Cole cologne that Cheza said she likes and coincidentally bought for me last Christmas. I put on my clothes that consist of a white button-up shirt, a black tie, a black sport coat, and a pair of nice jeans in a dark wash (because I don’t do slacks). A total of thirty minutes later, I exit my room, walk out to the kitchen, and sit at the kitchen table to wait for the girls. I’ve waited for fifteen minutes when Tia comes out wearing a small, black, strapless dress and matching stiletto heels.
“Why?” I angrily inquire after glaring at her for several seconds.
“Hey, it happens. There’s no need to feel embarrassed about it! There are a ton of pills that will fix that sort of thing,” Tia replies.
“What?” I ask before it finally clicks. “I’M NOT TALKING ABOUT AN ERECTION!”
“Really!?” Tia asks, faking shock by covering her mouth as she pulls out her phone.
“I just assumed that’s why you were holding on to Chezarei for so long!” she says while showing me the video.
“Delete it,” I monotonously reply. “I ask again, why?”
“Well, I wanted to get Cheza a stripper, but the guys at my place had all been called away for some convention in Vegas,” Tia answers.
I open my mouth to ask her what the real reason is, but I abruptly close it. Knowing Tia, that probably is the real reason. We wait in silence for another thirty minutes before I hear Cheza’s bedroom door open. I hear the sound of heels clicking on tile as I turn around… and my jaw hits the floor.
Cheza is wearing a black, backless, low cut, halter top dress that has a slit on the left side that almost goes up to her hip. Her shoulder-blade length hair has been straightened to cover the right half of her face in one silver sheet. I’m almost convinced that I’m looking at a completely different girl, but then I see her walking unsteadily in her heels with a smattering of embarrassment on her face, and I’m reminded that this is indeed Cheza. Flats probably would have been a better idea, but that is hardly a dress you can wear flats in. Sara, whom I’m guessing helped Cheza, is wearing a simple black dress to the right of Cheza.
Between the three of them lies the capacity of the modern male’s descriptive words to use when describing a woman’s level of attractiveness: Cute, Sexy, and DAMN! I’ll leave who is which up to interpretation.
“Umm… how do I look, Cole?” Cheza coyly asks.
“You… umm… you…” I say while simultaneously trying to stand and dislodge the foot from my mouth. I succeed at one.
“DAMN!” I shout as I trip on the table leg and fall face first into Sara’s chest, knocking her down in the process.
“I bet your face hurts now doesn’t it?” Tia asks while nodding.
“Bitch,” Sara mumbles as I extract myself from her slightly under-cushioned bosom, not that I’m suicidal enough to ever tell her that.
“You know Cole, I bet that I wouldn’t fall down if you fell into me. You would probably just bounce right off!” Tia adds while I help Sara to her feet.
Sara’s expression tells me that Tia is only a few seconds away from getting slapped, and I’m only a few seconds away from having a major catfight on my hands.
“SO! Shall we go?” I loudly ask while trying to diffuse this situational bomb by grabbing Sara’s arm and forcefully leading her towards the door. I open up the door for Sara, look back, and see that I may have inadvertently caused another situation. I hold the door open for Tia and a pouting Cheza before following Cheza out the door.
“You look beautiful by the way,” I whisper into Cheza’s ear as I pass by to open the car door for her.
I know that the second bomb diffusing is a success when I see Cheza smiling as I close her door. I go to the other side, enter the car, and we are on our way. I find myself repeatedly shooting glances over at Cheza. It’s really hard not to.
NO DROOLING ON THE BIRTHDAY GIRL
I jump and yelp as that lights up inside my mind like a giant neon sign. That damned Airi! I look around and see that Tia and Cheza have turned to look at me and Sara is looking at me through the rearview mirror.
“Sorry, I thought I just saw a bat fly by the window,” I say as an excuse. This seems to satiate the other two, but Tia continues to look at me with concern. I mouth “Later” at her, which gets her to turn around.
We arrive at our destination: a jazz lounge in Scottsdale. I go around the car, open the door for Cheza, and help her out. I hold out my arm for her to take, not so much out of gentlemanly pride as it is for the fact that I’m not about to allow the birthday girl to trip and fall. Cheza takes my arm as I see Tia grab two presents from the back of the car. We go inside the restaurant and Sara tells the host of our reservation. He leads us back to a circular booth in the corner with a clear view of the band.
We order, eat, and then the band starts playing a jazz rendition of Happy Birthday. This rendition includes a three minute saxophone solo as the waiter holding the cake glares at the player. The waiter sets the cake on the table, grabs a bread roll and hits the saxophone player in the head, who then finishes the song five seconds later.
“I apologize for that folks. My friend Mikey tends to get a little carried away,” the waiter says after Cheza has blown out the candles, as he is cutting the cake.
“No problem, it’s better this way in fact. That was far more entertaining than just the song would have been,” I tell the man, cutting him a bit of slack.
“Alright present time! These are both from Cole,” Tia announces, after we finish the cake, while handing Cheza the presents over Sara. Cheza starts with the small box on top, unwraps it, gasps, and beams at me from across the table.
“Go on, Cole. Put it on for her,” Tia says while digging her elbow into my ribs so forcefully that if I don’t leave the booth, one of my ribs will probably crack. I take the pendant, bring it around her neck, and fasten the clasp. I feel Cheza shiver when my hand brushes up against her bare back. I return to my seat and Cheza opens her other gift.
Cheza flips the top of the box open and I hear her gasp as Sara looks in the box and raises an eyebrow at me. I guess she’s surprised I could pick out women’s clothing so well. Glad it’s not Tia in Sara’s position—Tia would have made some crack about cross-dre
ssing. Cheza flips the box closed as she smiles. It kind of looks like her face is a little red, but that may just be the candle light.
“Alright, let’s get going. I’m beat,” Tia announces and rushes us out the door, stopping only to pay at the front.
The ride home is a silent one. We walk in the door at a quarter ‘til eleven and head towards our bedrooms.
“Do you like your gifts?” I ask Cheza from the hall as she sets down the box with her sweater in it.
“Yeah… one more so than the other,” She replies.
“Well cut me a little slack. I don’t shop for women’s clothing often… or ever, in fact,” I say and walk over to give her a hug.
“Happy birthday, Cheza. Goodnight!” I say as I walk out of her room.
I think I hear her whisper, “it will be” as I close her door.
I head into my room, strip down to my boxers, and call it a night.
****