by Lolita Files
Penn tipped an imaginary hat.
“Pardon me, m’lady,” he said. “I should have introduced myself before I showed you my ass. Pennbook A. Hamilton, at your service.”
He chuckled, sank back into the pillows. So Beryl wanted to change this room, did she? The whole apartment. That might be a gig for Mercury, he thought. Why not hook up his best friend in the process of hooking up himself? That’s what friends did for one another. Merc would have done it for him. It wouldn’t be just a hookup, either. Mercury and his uncle were excellent contractors. They could make a good amount of money on a job like this.
Right. Seemed like Beryl might turn out to be an all-around bonanza. Penn cozied his neck into the sweetest part of the pillow, figuring he’d give himself a couple more minutes before he got into his clothes. This had been so much easier than he’d anticipated. He knew she’d be charmed by his looks and attention, but he’d expected the path to her bedroom to have at least a couple of snags along the way. He couldn’t have gotten here faster if he’d been shot out of a cannon. Beryl was better than desperate, she was an idealist. That trumped desperation every time. He was the bolt from the blue she’d been waiting for, so he got an EZ-Pass straight to her panties and her heart. No tolls, no waiting, no application necessary.
His eyes were shut and he was just about to doze again when the tune Beryl was singing managed to rise above the beating water. This time the words and melody were clear, her voice a chirpy squawk as she soaped herself clean.
“‘Happy days are here again…’”
Penn opened his eyes.
Happy days indeed.
A Ukrainian woman with massive biceps pressed down on the piece of muslin, then snatched the snatch clean.
“Ow!”
“I don’t know why you still insist on those brutal treatments,” Diamond said from a nearby room. “With all the pain-free wax removals they do here, there’s no need to go through all that.”
“I like it old school,” Shar said through gritted teeth, bracing for the next assault. “It’s how I know I still have feeling down there.”
Aurora laughed from another room.
Shar’s Sidekick rang. She signaled to the Ukrainian technician to hand it to her. The woman had just put fresh wax on the muslin. She pressed it into Shar’s crotch and snatched.
“Shit!”
Then the woman handed her the phone.
“Hello.” Shar sounded more than angry.
“Baby?”
“Miles!”
“Hey, baby.”
“You back?”
“No,” he said, “that’s why I’m calling.”
Her moment of elation was gone in an instant.
“Shar?”
“Yeah, Miles.”
“Listen, baby, now don’t get mad—”
“Miles…”
“Talks here are going really well. Jussi and I have made so much headway. He’s agreed to the ComMedia-Golarssen merger, but only on the condition that I spend a little time with him and his company to get to know its culture. It’s very important to him that we don’t make radical changes that destroy the esprit de corps…”
“How long is ‘a little time’?”
“No more than a couple of months. Three at the most. I was thinking maybe you could come—”
The Ukrainian woman snatched.
“Fuck!” Shar screamed. Laughter could be heard from Diamond’s and Aurora’s rooms.
Miles was silent on his end of the phone.
“Hello?”
“You know how I feel about cursing.” His voice was cool, even.
“What? You’re admonishing me about the f-word after you just announce that I’m not going to be seeing you for three months? Stop changing the subject. Stop trying to control me.”
“That’s not what I’m doing. I was trying to tell you to come stay with me while I’m out here, but I’m not so sure I want that now. You’re becoming so vulgar, Shar. What happened to the little lady I married?”
The Ukrainian woman came at her with more wax-on-muslin. Shar raised her hand. The woman ignored her. She needed to apply the wax while it was still fresh. She pressed and yanked.
“Shit,” Shar mumbled.
“So that’s how you respond,” Miles said. “I tell you you’ve become vulgar, and you answer me with more vulgarity.”
“I’m getting a bikini wax, Miles.”
“That’s no excuse.”
“I don’t want to argue with you again. I thought I’d get to see you. I was hoping for it.”
“I was hoping that, too, but you’ve just ruined my whole mood with your swearing. I ask so little of you, Sharlyn. I give you everything, everything you want. Can’t you at least show me that courtesy? Can’t you at least show me respect?”
“You don’t give me everything I want.”
“What haven’t I given you?”
“Time.”
The Ukrainian woman was applying more wax to the muslin. Sharlyn leaned up to get a glimpse of her loins while the woman’s back was turned. How much more hair was down there to get? The technician made it seem like she had a bear between her legs.
“I’ve always given you time, Shar.” The chip on Miles’s shoulder had come down a bit. “I’ve given you all of it. We didn’t have kids so that nothing would take away from the time we had for each other. That was important to me. To us. Don’t you remember?”
“I thought you’d forgotten.”
“How could I forget anything about us? You’re my life force, baby. My soul mate. The company’s at a pivotal point right now. It’s not always going to be like this. I just need you to bear with me. We’ve been through two decades together, going on a third. This is just a moment in time. Do you understand that?”
Sharlyn sat up and shut her legs before the Ukrainian woman could touch her again.
“Done,” Shar said to her.
“Done?” the technician asked, crinkling her broad brow. “No. Not done. Still hair down there.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“So you do understand,” Miles said. “Thank you, baby. I need you to be on my side through all this.”
Shar stared at the phone.
“Miles, I was talking to the—”
“All right, hon, I’ve got to run. I’ll try to call you in a few days. I love you. I know you’re not big on it, but maybe you could shoot me an e-mail if you get around to it.”
“But what about me coming to—”
The line was dead. The fucker. Just like that, he was gone.
“Shar? You all right?”
“I’m okay, Aurora.”
“Don’t worry about it, girl,” said Diamond. “He’ll be back in no time. In the meantime, we’re gonna shop till he drops.”
“You mean ‘we,’” Shar mumbled.
“I mean ‘he.’ There’s always a penalty for leaving your woman alone too long. We have to console ourselves somehow. That’s why they make diamonds and furs.”
“She’s right,” piped Aurora.
“Of course,” said Sharlyn.
Somehow, slapping a billionaire with the bill from an afternoon of shopping didn’t sound like much of a penalty. She missed her husband.
She had a bald, raw cooch, and no place to show it.
Penn had his Starbucks. A Venti red-eye. Three shots of espresso in a large COD (coffee of the day). It was twenty ounces of scalding brown hell, strong enough to resurrect the dead. No cream. No sugar. Just pure-dee caffeine, uncut, inside a dark, fragrant roast. A satanic concoction that practically tore the skin off the gullet on its way down. He called it the Defibrillator. It was music to his veins.
Beryl had ordered a Defibrillator, too, which gave him some concern. She had already proved quite hyper, and she was on meds, to boot.
“I want to have what you’re having,” she’d said. God, he thought, his stomach clenching. She was imitating him already. She was one of those kind of women.
&nbs
p; “You sure that won’t get you too geeked-up?”
“‘Geeked-up’? What does that mean?”
“You serious?”
“Yes. I’ve never heard it before.”
“I thought you said you did a book with Snoop.”
“I did.”
They were just walking up to a newsstand to get the morning papers.
“‘Geeked-up’ means ‘high,’ really hyper. Like you’ve been doing drugs.”
Beryl set her coffee on the counter and picked out her papers. She grabbed a copy of USA Today, the New York Times, a Daily News, and a Post.
“Then I guess I’m geeked-up by nature,” she said, “so no need to worry.”
“All right,” he said, reaching for a copy of the Daily News and the Post.
“I got those already.”
Penn looked at the stack of papers in her hands.
“You don’t mind sharing with me?” he asked.
“No, babe. These are ‘our’ papers.”
“‘Our papers’?” he said as he put his back. “As in, we’re a couple?” There was a hint of camp in his voice.
Beryl cast her eyes down, then brought them back up with confidence.
“Yes.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “You don’t sound so sure.”
“I am sure.”
“Then say it again. This time with feeling.”
Beryl took in a deep breath, paused, and bellowed, “Yes, we’re a couple!”
A slender redhead, a real hottie, was paying for her Post. She looked at Beryl, then looked at Penn. Looked at Beryl. Looked at Penn. Looked at Beryl.
“Here’s your change, lady,” the cashier said.
“Oh. Sorry.”
Penn could see the confusion in the woman’s eyes. He was a rock star. It wasn’t a statement of conceit. It was a fact with a long-substantiated track record. There were chicks all over the island and the outer boroughs with his skidmarks on them. And Beryl was…well…Beryl was Beryl. She was a girl with condoms so old and unused, one of them disintegrated before he could even get it out of the pack. She was a mouse at best. A mouse with great taste, granted. A mouse with an excellent apartment, the perfect job, superior clothing, but a mouse nonetheless. The woman staring at them was the first real indication of how people would react to them as a couple. Beryl saw the judgment in the woman’s eyes and began to fumble with the papers. Penn put his arm around her and kissed her full on the lips.
“Cute,” the woman muttered. She grazed close to Beryl’s ear as she passed. “Don’t let your hooks out,” she said. “Half the city’ll be on him. Including me.”
Beryl was thunderstruck. Her mouth was wide open as she watched the woman walk away.
“Forget her, babe,” Penn said, pulling her close. “I got what I want.”
Beryl grinned. The cashier cleared his throat.
Penn reached into his wallet, pulled out a five, and put it on the counter. Beryl snatched the money and pushed it back into his hand.
“You got the coffee,” she said. “I’ll get these.”
“C’mon, now. I’m the guy. I’ll pay for the papers.”
“No, babe. I’m not one of those women who thinks the man should pay for everything.”
The cashier, a young guy with a twenty-five-o’clock shadow and tousled hair, gave Penn a full-on look of protest. Don’t be stupid, his eyes said.
Beryl was already going into her oversized suede corduroy Miu Miu tote for her wallet. She pulled out the money and handed it to the cashier.
“You sure?” Penn asked.
“Yeah.”
“Thanks, babe.”
He sipped his coffee as she paid the man. This was great. So far, all it had taken was some dick and a smile, with a “babe” or two thrown in for good measure. The world was unfolding for him at breakneck speed.
Beryl scooped up the papers and tucked them under her arm.
“Give ’em to me. You’re so tiny, these’ll drag you to the ground.”
“Thanks, babe.”
She surrendered the papers and plunged her arm inside the crook of his. He realized the “babe” thing was going to wear on him quick.
“Don’t forget your coffee.”
“Oh yeah.”
She let go, grabbed her cup from the counter, then stuck her arm back inside the crook of his.
“Where to now?” she asked.
“My place is uptown, near Columbia. Once I get showered and change, we’ll grab some lunch.”
“Okay.”
“Let’s take a cab,” he said.
The cashier called out to them as they were walking away.
“Have a nice day,” the guy said, giving Penn a wink.
“Right,” Penn said with a smile. “You too, buddy.”
They stepped off the curb. Beryl rushed ahead, Starbucks in one hand, her other arm stuck in the air, waving down an oncoming taxi.
His place…
…was nice, she’d said.
It was neat, clean, and very well done with its IKEA chairs and IKEA sofa and IKEA tables and IKEA rug and IKEA clocks and IKEA throw pillows and…well…pretty much everything IKEA down the line.
She’d asked for a drink of water shortly after they arrived. He knew without her saying that she needed something to take the edge off the bitter rush of the Defibrillator, which he was sure had burned the fuck out of her throat on its way down. He placed the papers on the coffee table, went into the very organized kitchen, got a bottle of Aquafina from the fridge, and poured it for her. He was polite, sweet, seemingly happy to have her in his space. He handed her the water in a sea-green IKEA glass.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
She sat on the edge of the couch, coddling her drink. Penn tapped the message button on the answering machine and let it play. He wasn’t worried about the threat of messages from women. None were ever allowed to call or come over unannounced. That was his main rule. He was always the caller, the sole elicitor of plans. Anyone who dared break that commandment was cut off at once. The woman upstairs with the broad back knew it, and so did all the others. Everybody knew their place. Even if they saw him with another, no one ever dared to break the rule.
It would be different for Beryl, of course. The rule was mostly in place so women didn’t mess things up for the one he wanted to believe she was tops. There’d been no one in that position until now. He wanted to make Beryl believe right off that he had nothing to hide. He knew that playing his messages in front of her was a sure means of establishing the foundation for her trust.
“Yo, P, where you at?” a voice blared from the machine. It was Mercury. “P? Penn? Nigga, pick up the phone.” There was a long pause as Mercury could be heard brushing his teeth, gargling, and rinsing his mouth.
“He calls you ‘nigger’?” asked Beryl. “That is so—”
“He said ‘nigga,’ not ‘nigger.’ He means it as a term of endearment.”
“Still.” She frowned. “I don’t get how anybody would think that’s cool. Is he black?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess. Partly. He’s Dominican. Are you sure you did a book with Snoop? I would think you got n-worded to death. It’s no big deal. Everybody calls everybody ‘nigga’ these days.”
“I don’t.”
“All right then, holla.” It was Merc talking again. “And get a cell phone, you penny-pinching muthafucka. You’re the cheapest former rich kid I ever met.”
Penn looked directly at Beryl, no readable expression on his face. He could see the glint in her eye. This more than compensated for his low-rent apartment. She was now a true believer. He knew he’d never have to produce a single cent to back up Merc’s words. He was a former rich kid, whatever that meant. She’d heard Mercury say it. Penn knew what she was thinking. That he wasn’t just attractive, great in bed, and into her—he also came from money. Not that it was about him having to be a rich guy. He was hot. That’s all that mattered. He knew he could have had
her if he was living on the street. But now this had become the full-blown American Female Dream, like one of those Hollywood movies where the girl loves the guy for just himself, the pauper with no car, skuzzy hair, and dirt under his nails, only to learn he was a Swollenwallet. This was that moment. She’d suddenly jumped castes.
The answering machine beeped again.
“Penn. Penn? Nigga, what the fuck? Oh, I get it. You’re probably up in some a—”
Penn hit the button on the bleating box. He didn’t check Beryl for a reaction. That would be the universal sign for guilt. He walked across the room, stepping out of his shoes, socks, jeans, and shirt along the way, giving her a chance to savor his body in all its golden backside glory. He wasn’t wearing any underwear. He never did. Beryl was enthralled watching his ass, becoming lost in the dimples just above the firm cheeks.
“I’m gonna jump in the shower, babe,” he said, stopping in the hallway and turning toward her. His penis was hard, raging, red, delicious.
Beryl blushed.
“You’ve got a shiner,” she said.
“A shiner?”
“Yeah.” She pointed toward his crotch. “Your…your thing. It’s at attention.”
“My thing. Yes.” He put his hand on it casually, stroking the shaft. “I guess he’s still got Beryl on the brain. He probably wants me to come over there right now and…well. I’d better get in the shower. Otherwise we’ll never eat.”
“Right.”
“You don’t have to stay in there,” he said as he walked away. “Mi casa es, and all that shit. Bring the papers back into the bedroom if you want. Get to know the place. Hopefully you’ll become a fixture after a while.”
“Okay.”
He disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. She heard the water turn on.
Beryl smiled, taking in her surroundings, hugging herself. Her boyfriend’s apartment. She had a boyfriend. She was bursting inside, dying to scream out her great fortune to the universe.
She imagined herself cuddled next to him in his bed, reading manuscripts, watching DVDs, limbs entangled sleepily on long Sunday mornings.