I Saw Your Profile Page 14

“What does your gut tell you?”

  The waitress came with their salads.

  “Thank you,” they said in unison.

  “My gut is quiet at the moment,” Arianna said after the waitress made her exit.

  “So you gonna keep seeing this loser or you gonna give a real man a try?”

  Arianna groaned.

  “Don’t start with that again, Kenny. We have such a good time together. My kids like you. If we were trying to do the relationship thing, it would just fuck things up.”

  Kenny shook his head and took a bite of his salad.

  “What does that mean?” Arianna asked.

  “You women say you want a good man, but when one comes along, you find all kinds of things wrong with him. His weight. His looks. He doesn’t have the right kind of job or drive the right car. Whatever. But when Rico Suave steps to you with bullshit, you fall for it and then start crying that there are no good men.”

  “Who says I’m falling for anything?”

  “Why did you pursue a relationship with him, Arianna?”

  “We have a lot in common.”

  “So do we.”

  “He has a great sense of humor, he’s intelligent.”

  “Same here.”

  “I was attracted to him.”

  “You were attracted to me, too, mentally. When you found out I was heavy, all the things we have in common – my sense of humor, my intellect – went out the window and I was relegated to the friends pile.”

  Arianna dived into her salad, suddenly at a loss for words.

  “Nothing to say?” Kenny said, sarcastically.

  “Are we going to talk about this all night?’ she asked.

  “You haven’t answered my question.”

  “What?”

  “You gonna keep seeing him?”

  “I don’t know. It depends on what happens.”

  After dinner, Kenny walked Arianna to her car.

  “Thanks,” he said. “But next time, you have to come to Delaware. Ninety-five goes north and south you know.”

  “Do they have restaurants in Delaware?” Arianna laughed.

  He smiled. “We have gyms, bars and movie theaters, too. And they have tons of ethnic festivals. I’ll let you know when the next one is and you can bring the kids down.”

  “Okay,” Arianna said. She kissed him on the cheek and got in her car.

  Arianna headed home, navigating the city streets to the Schuylkill Expressway, which was rarely express, but still the fastest way to West Mount Airy.

  On the interstate, she pulled her cell phone from her purse and dialed Chauncey. The voice mail picked up before the first ring.

  I am either with a client or otherwise occupied…

  She pressed the number one button to skip the annoying greeting and went straight to the beep.

  “Hi, it’s me. I just wanted to check on you and see how things are going. I hope this has been a prosperous trip. Call me back when you get this message.”

  Arianna had only seen him three times since their picnic in the park two months before. He said business was slow and he needed to spend more time pursuing new clients. He couldn’t afford a room, but offered to come to her place if she could find a sitter.

  She didn’t admit it to Kenny, but her bullshit detector was ringing off the hook.

  He could afford airfare and hotel expenses to travel to Atlanta, but not gas and one night’s crash in a Philly motel?

  Chauncey was on his way to becoming an ex. She had other Internet suitors, but none as smart and nobody she was ready to get physical with. But she at least wanted answers before cutting herself off from an occasional good time between the sheets.

  When she got home, she sent him an email.

  Hey,

  Just wanted you to know I miss you and can’t wait to see you again. Get in touch when you can.

  Arianna

  In the morning, Arianna found a response to her email, but it wasn’t from Chauncey.

  Arianna,

  My name is Nicole, Chauncey’s live-in girlfriend (two years). He is playing you and dozens of other women. He is an intellectual con artist. Whatever trip you think he was on, it wasn’t business. He was with another woman he met on the Internet.

  If you want to talk, give me a call.

  Arianna smiled. She didn’t know why she was amused. Maybe because she suspected him all along and she liked being right.

  She thought of the line he fed her. When I fall, I fall hard.

  She then frowned. “Oh his ass is going to fall all right and it won’t be in love.”

  Nicole’s phone number was in the email. She dialed it.

  Arianna listened to Nicole’s saga for two hours.

  “Well, the boy has game,” she said afterward. “I’ll give him that. He’s smooth as shit. You had it right when you called him an ‘intellectual con artist.’ He reels you in with his mind and hooks you with the sex.”

  Nicole sighed. “Would you believe that I was supposed to marry him? I really feel guilty. If I hadn’t let him move in with me, maybe all the women he’s conned up and down ninety-five might have been spared the drama.”

  Arianna told her no woman was responsible for where a man put his dick.

  “You said he was living in New York when you met him, right? What makes you think he wasn’t already conning women there? He didn’t just start this shit with you.”

  “I’ve been calling all the numbers on my cell phone bill. He was talking to women all over the country – Kentucky, Texas, Michigan, Illinois, New York, Jersey, Virginia. You’re not the only one in Philadelphia, either.”

  “Did you talk to all these women?”

  “Not all, but a lot.”

  Nicole told her about a white woman Chauncey had conned out of thousands of dollars. The woman owned a business in Aberdeen and had started out as a client. Chauncey charmed his way into her bed and eventually into her wallet with sob stories about needing money to pay his mother’s medical bills in Barbados.

  “How did she take it when you told her he was a con man and his mother was healthy?”

  “She had already figured it out. Once he got the money, he stopped coming around. She called the hospital in Barbados and they said they had never heard of a Delores Cockfield. I tried to talk her into pressing charges against him, but she was too embarrassed. She didn’t want anything to do with it. She’s afraid a scandal could hurt her business. She says she moved on and she just wants to forget he existed.”

  “I guess I can see her point,” Arianna said. “What about the others?”

  “Many of ‘em already knew the deal. They either never let him through the door or figured him out shortly after he got in. A bunch of them were shocked and a few, like this sister in Richmond, didn’t believe me.”

  “Why not?”

  “‘Cause he asked her to marry him, too.”

  “What!”

  “Can you believe that? I called her twice and the second time, Chauncey answered the phone. Called himself telling me off. He said she was his fiancée and she wouldn’t believe me. I don’t even know her name, but I feel bad for her. She has no idea what she is getting into.”

  “Yes she does.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Because women know. We just ignore that little voice and hope shit will change.”

  “Would you to talk to her?”

  “About what?”

  “Chauncey. I’m sure he’s told her all kind of lies about me. But if you talk to her and tell her that he was sleeping with you, maybe she’ll wake up.”

  “Why me? He probably lied about me, too.”

  “I’m the ex-girlfriend. It’s one thing for me to talk bad about him, but if she hears it from somebody else, she can’t help but believe he was out there.”

  “I’ll think about it, but if Chauncey is with her, I won’t have any better luck getting to talk to her than you did.”

  “Thanks. Why don’t you come to my church t
his weekend and have dinner afterward? A few of us are getting together.”

  “A few of who?”

  “The women who Chauncey dated.”

  “What is it, a Mr. Good Body support group?”

  “Sort of. We just want to compare notes.”

  “I don’t think so. I wouldn’t mind meeting you, but the group thing is a bit much for me. Nicole, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “The night we went on our first date, we stayed out until the sun came up. What excuse did he give you for coming home so late?”

  The question took Nicole by surprise. She knew Arianna was really asking how she could be so naive.

  “It was always a pamper party.”

  “What the heck is that?”

  “Massage therapy. On weekends, he would do parties – massages, facials, feet rubdowns. He supposedly made good money, though I rarely saw any of it.”

  Arianna rolled her eyes. “You know the one thing I can’t understand is why these women would part with so much of their cash. I mean the dick was good, but it wasn’t good enough for me to open my legs and my wallet. Is the son real? The ex-wife?”

  “Yeah,” Nicole said. “I found the divorce papers and custody agreement. But I know there’s more to it.”

  “Like he cheated on her, not the other way around,” Arianna said.

  “He told you she cheated, too?”

  “I’m sure most of the lies are the same. They’d have to be. He probably had enough trouble trying to keep all of us straight. So where do you go from here, Nicole?”

  “On with my life,” she said. “I kicked him out and I’m going to warn all the women I can and try to have him deported.”

  “Huh?”

  “He’s in this country illegally. He only had a temporary visa and when it expired, he never went back to London.”

  “Damn. It never occurred to me that he wasn’t a citizen.”

  “I’m going to call INS tomorrow,” Nicole said.

  Arianna snickered. “Girl you’re not going to get Chauncey with the law. Shit, INS is too busy trying to catch the bruthas who blew up the World Trade Center; they’re not worried about some brutha running game on a bunch of sistas. If Chauncey’s going to get his, we have to be the ones to give it to him.”

  After losing Michael, Arianna believed life was too short for regrets. Revenge maybe, but not regrets.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m not sure yet. But when I am, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Don’t do anything stupid, Arianna. Besides, vengeance is mine saith the Lord.”

  “And trying to have him deported is turning the other cheek? Sorry, but I’m not gonna let a nigga get away with playing me like Playstation just so he can put his joystick in my X-Box.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “And you accused me of trying to con you?” Kenny said, breathing heavily as he sat against the wall of the aerobics room. “Hell I ain’t got nothing on Mr. Sexy. That brutha got mad game.”

  He and Arianna had just finished a kickboxing class and she was sharing the details of what she’d learned about Chauncey as they recuperated.

  Arianna wiped the sweat that coated her face with her hand and flung the drops in his direction.

  “I know you ain’t co-signing his mess, Kenny. And I told you his name is Chauncey.”

  He grabbed the white hand towel from around his neck and wiped his face. “Whatever. And keep your sweat to yourself.”

  “Oh please. I didn’t even get you.”

  “And, no. I’m not co-signing, Arianna. I’m just pointing out that you were ready to kick me to the curb for not telling you about a few pounds. This brutha had a live-in, other girlfriends, and probably a whole lot of baby mamas out there, too.”

  “One of my girlfriends said this sounded like some Dateline NBC shit,” Arianna said.

  “So are you okay?”

  “Sure. I mean it’s not like I was in love. I wasn’t all up in it like Nicole – that’s his girlfriend. I certainly didn’t have the kind of time, emotion, or money invested in him that she did. But I do want him to pay, though, for G.P.”

  “Come again?”

  “General principle. He just shouldn’t be able to get away with this shit.”

  “So what are you going to do? Lorena Bobbitize his ass?”

  Arianna laughed as she stood up. “I haven’t figured it out, yet. It won’t be that drastic, though. I did get a story idea out of all of this, though. I’m writing a piece for a magazine on blacks and Internet dating. Did you know more black people are using the Internet to meet? All that talk about the digital divide and blacks being road kill on the information superhighway doesn’t apply when it comes to getting laid.”

  She leaned over, giving Kenny her hand and helping him up, before she continued.

  “There’s precautions you need to take, like meeting in a public place on the first few dates and taking things slow, but that’s not much different from meeting people in more traditional ways.”

  “The difference is the ‘net gives players like Mr. Sexy access to more women,” Kenny said. “So when does your story come out?”

  “Next month. My lead is a couple who got married after meeting online.”

  “Maybe that will happen for you.”

  “I’m through with online dating. Besides, only three percent walk down the aisle. And Chauncey isn’t the only scam artist. I found out twenty-five percent of people who date online lie in their profiles and eighteen percent, mostly men, of course, were already married or living with someone.”

  “Just like the ones you meet in the club,” Kenny said.

  “I guess. But it sure would be great…” Arianna stopped suddenly, looking into space.

  “Arianna?” Kenny said, trying to bring her back to earth.

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I was in the zone. I just came up with a great idea to catch Chauncey in his shit.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The computer was calling Arianna’s name.

  She couldn’t wait to get to it after putting the kids to bed. She was on a mission. Operation Get Chauncey.

  She logged onto LoveMeBlack and created a profile and an email account for MrFunandFitness. He was thirty-seven, single with no kids. He lived in D.C. and his interests included fitness, computers, self-improvement, religion and spirituality.

  She uploaded Chauncey’s picture – the one he sent when they first met.

  She then wrote as his bio:

  Ladies Beware,

  This Internet Romeo goes by the name of Chauncey Cockfield. He is a very intelligent, charming brother with a British accent. He will tell you that he is in love with you by the second or third date. DO NOT; I repeat DO NOT get involved with this man. He is a con artist of the worst kind. He conned one woman out of thousands of dollars. His tools are a computer and a telephone. He cruises the ‘net looking for his victims. Don’t let that person be YOU!

  Afterwards, Arianna created the same profile for every free online dating service she could find. The emails started coming within hours:

  Good looking out for the sisters.

  I went out on one date with him and I knew he was full of shit. I feel bad for the other women, though.

  How did you get access to his email account? You are good!

  You go girl. It’s about time we started sticking together instead of fighting over bullshit men.

  Arianna was responding to one of the emails when the phone rang. The familiar voice on the other end surprised her.

  “Hello my dear. How are you?” Chauncey asked.

  “Do you really care?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then why has it been so long since I’ve heard from you?”

  “I apologize, sweethaart. I’ve had quite a bit of drama in my life lately.”

  “Drama that paralyzed your dialing finger?”

  “Point well taken. After all that’s happened
, I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear from me.”

  “Well, why don’t you tell me about the drama that has kept you away?”

  “I’m sure you know about it. Nicole’s been in contact with everyone in my address book. Surely, she didn’t leave you out?”

  “Nicole?”

  “Yes, my ex-girlfriend.”

  “Ex? As of when?”

  “A year ago. What did she tell you?”

  “Oh, please. Let’s not play this game, Chauncey. Are you calling to deny it?”

  “Would you believe me? Or do you have your mind already made up?”

  “I’m a reporter. I always get both sides of the story.”

  “So are you saying that you are willing to listen?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’d rather tell you in person. I want you to look in my eyes so you will know I am telling the truth. Do you think we could see each other?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Just before Chauncey arrived, Arianna put her video camera on a tripod and tucked it in a corner across from the loveseat by her front door. She pressed the record button, hoping Chauncey wouldn’t notice the small red light.

  Chauncey showed up in designer jeans and a casual black shirt. He tried to kiss her. Arianna turned her head.

  “I thought you were giving me the benefit of the doubt, sweethaart?”

  “I am. That doesn’t mean I’m ready to kiss and make up. I said I would listen. That’s all.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Sit down. I’m all ears,” she said pointing to the loveseat.

  He took a seat where she directed him. “Hopefully, I will convince you to give me other parts of you.”

  Arianna wore a short jean skirt, a tight blue tank top and denim sandals with a wedge heel. She sauntered across the room, sat on the couch and crossed her legs, smooth and shiny from baby oil.

  “You’re hoping for a lot.”

  “You look lovely.”