I Saw Your Profile Read online

  She toyed with the idea of calling her mother, but the thought disappeared quickly. Though Arianna wished she had the kind of mother she could confide in, Blanche Singleton was another reason she had escaped Connecticut.

  She was saved, sanctified, filled with the precious Holy Ghost and a mighty burning fire, which gave her the right to be judgmental and bossy.

  Arianna figured her mother hadn’t been laid since her father walked out on her thirty years ago. The only thing she’d tell Arianna to do was keep her legs closed and wait on God for another husband.

  Plus, her mother knew zip about the Internet.

  She decided to skip Missionary Singleton’s sermon, and instead called Kevin, a friend she’d known since elementary school, for a man’s opinion.

  “It makes it hard for sistas to separate the wheat from the chaff,” Kevin said.

  “Meaning?”

  “Approaching a woman in person takes guts. You always risk rejection,” he said. “It doesn’t take any balls to send a stranger an email. And behind a computer screen you can be anybody you want to be.”

  “I guess you’re right. That must’ve been the deal with Kenny. As long as nobody knows you’re fat, they can’t reject you for it. But, I still don’t get the lying. If you tell somebody you weigh one-ninety and you really weigh two-ninety, they’ll find out when you meet.”

  “Who knows why people do what they do,” Kevin said. “Maybe they figure they’ll never actually meet anybody. Or maybe they think they can get you to fall in love and when you do meet, you’ll be so emotionally involved you’ll just forget that he’s a midget or his dick is only four inches.”

  “Believe me Kevin, four inches is something most women would not overlook.”

  “That’s why every man online will tell you he has a ten-inch dick and that means there are a whole lot of liars online. You need to leave that mess alone. Did you find a church yet? Maybe you can meet somebody there.”

  When they were young, Kevin and Arianna’s families went to the same church. He still went every Sunday, faithfully.

  “No. I haven’t found a church yet, but I haven’t exactly been looking. I told you before I’m sick of the dogma. Besides, you know damn well there ain’t no men in church. And the few that do go are always in the pulpit trying to lead when most of them need somebody to show their asses the way.”

  “We’re not going there again. I told you what I think. You need to leave them Internet niggas alone.”

  Arianna didn’t take Kevin’s advice.

  She figured there was no harm in online dating as long as she was careful. If the brother turned out to be perpetrating, she would just cut him loose.

  Most of the men she met in person didn’t get a second date.

  Like the one whose picture made him look six-feet tall, but who was actually five-seven and weighed a hundred and thirty-five pounds.

  He was too damned skinny. Plus, he had a Napoleon complex and drove a Navigator he practically needed a booster seat to drive.

  At dinner, he bored her to death with stories about his childhood that only he found funny.

  Then there was the brother with five kids who talked all through lunch about how his wife left him for a white guy she met online. They were getting married and buying a house together. And men say sisters have too much baggage?

  Turned out his wife’s Caucasian lover and soon to be husband was an ad rep at the Press Herald. Arianna heard he liked to dip his spoon in black coffee, but she didn’t think he’d give up the cream at home to drink the whole cup. Talk about a small world.

  Arianna’s poor date probably figured if his wife could meet somebody online so could he. Arianna let him know she wasn’t the one.

  One guy took her out for coffee and asked a million times if she was sure she was single because all the women he met online lied about being married. He got one pregnant and found out she was married when she asked for money to have an abortion. Her husband, a sailor, was coming home from deployment and no way could she explain away a baby.

  Plus, he wore cheap shoes. Enough said?

  The shit had become downright comical. Just when she was about to give up, she got an email from a man who intrigued her.

  Your smile is pure beauty. It radiates warmth that can provide shelter from the cold. Your chocolate skin glows like the stars. I’m sure men melt to your touch and find you captivating. Your pic tells me you are very beautiful and sexy. I would enjoy learning more about the woman you are inside. As for me, I am an entrepreneur. A single, divorced father of one who loves poetry and romancing that someone special. Tell me more about you please.

  AGOODBODY4LIFE

  She didn’t know whether to be turned on or off by his screen name. Either he was a gym rat who was really into fitness, which she didn’t mind, or someone conceited and hung up on his looks, which she did.

  As a writer, she liked his poetic way with words. He was at least worth a reply.

  Thanks for responding to my profile. I’m single with two children, 16 and 10. I’m a writer and I live in Philadelphia. I love to read, dance, go to movies and play board games. I also love to work out and I like pool, although I’m still learning how to play. What are some of your hobbies and what do you do for a living? Also, you have an advantage over me; you’ve seen what I look like. Do you have a pic you could share?

  Arianna

  Her newest admirer replied several days later.

  Arianna,

  Thank you for such an expeditious response. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you. I was out of town on business. In answer to your questions, I am a self-employed fitness consultant. We have a lot in common. I, too, work out religiously. Perhaps we could work out together. I also love to play pool and would love to teach you. And I am an avid Scrabble player. As a wordsmith, I assume you play?

  I’m sending along a photo of myself. I hope you like it. Let me know in your reply.

  AGOODBODY4LIFE

  If the picture was real, he was tall, two shades brighter than midnight, handsome and had every right to call himself Good Body.

  He was wearing a string tank top that exposed his muscles. An animal tattoo decorated the well-toned triceps of his right arm and a diamond stud sparkled from his right ear lobe.

  A smart, charming brother who had so many things in common with her seemed too good to be true. She wanted to get to know Mr. Good Body a little better.

  Chapter Eight

  It was half-time.

  Nicole had screamed herself hoarse. She stepped into the hallway outside the community center gym to buy a bottle of water from the booster club.

  “Let me get a candy bar, too,” she said.

  Behind her, she heard a familiar voice. “Careful. You don’t want all that time you been spending in the gym with your London lover to go to waste.”

  She turned around to see Jamal, her ex-boyfriend and Jay’s father. He wore dreads, was the color of milk chocolate, and looked just as tasty. Nicole secretly hated that he always managed to look so good.

  “Surprised to see you here, Mr. Franklyn.”

  Nicole paid for her refreshments and walked to a water fountain away from the nosy parents behind the counter.

  “Since when are you so formal with your baby’s daddy, Nikki?”

  “That’s Nicole to you.”

  “You used to love it when I called you Nikki.”

  “That was then. This is now.”

  “How many points my boy score so far?”

  “Six. How’d you know he even had a game tonight?”

  “Jay told me. Guess he knows he can’t depend on his mother to do it.”

  “Please, Jamal. I stopped telling you about his games because you’re always too busy to come.”

  “Not always.”

  “Whatever. How come you’re free tonight?”

  “I was hoping I could take him with me for the weekend after the game?”

  “Does Jay know this?”
/>   “Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first.”

  Jay’s team returned from the locker room and started shooting lay ups.

  “Let’s sit down. The second half is about to start,” Nicole said.

  As they headed for the bleachers, Jay noticed his parents. His face glowed when he saw his father and he waved from the court. Jamal smiled and waved back.

  Nicole opened her water and took a sip. “What’s up, Jamal? I feel like you’re here for more than to watch our son play ball.”

  “You’re right. You always did know me. I’m seeing someone, Nikki.”

  “That’s news? You’re always seeing somebody. Usually more than one somebody. That’s why we’re not together, remember?”

  “Let’s not go there. I mean I’m seeing someone special. And she wants to meet Jay.”

  “Oh. Now you want to use my son to impress your women?”

  “It’s not like that. I think she might be the one and if she is, I want her to meet my son. She will be a part of his life.”

  Nicole rolled her eyes. “You’re kidding right? You’re barely a part of his life. I think he needs to get to know you before he gets to know your future ex-wife.”

  The game started with the other team having possession of the ball. Nicole started clapping and yelling. “Okay now, defense! Put your hands up Jay! Play that ‘D.’”

  She looked out of place shouting from the bleachers in her beige Ellen Tracey silk skirt suit, but she didn’t have time to change after work. Chauncey had dropped Jay off on his way to see a client.

  Jamal was amused by her exuberance.

  “Calm down, Nik. You gonna make the boy self-conscious. Let his coach tell him what to do.”

  “Don’t tell me how to encourage my son. I’m the parent who comes to every game. The one who is always here for him.”

  Jamal frowned. “Damn! Why can’t we ever have a conversation without you taking it there?”

  He leaned forward, causing his locks to fall into his eyes. He pulled them away, lowering his voice.

  “Look, Nikki. I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you and me. I wasn’t the knight in shining armor your father was, and I admit I could be a better father to Jay. But that’s why I’m here. Because I want to start.”

  “Because of this new woman?”

  “Heather’s part of it.”

  “Heather? She white?”

  “Of course not.”

  “It’s not like you’ve never had jungle fever.”

  “That was for play. This is for real. Heather has a son, and we want the boys to meet, to get to know each other.”

  “Well if Heather helps you become a better father, then more power to her. When do I get to meet her? If she’s going to be a part of my son’s life, I’d like to get to know her.”

  “That’s cool. She’ll be over tonight. Why don’t you pick up Jay’s clothes after the game and come by later? You can meet her then.”

  Jay scored, sending both his parents to their feet.

  “Yeah, Jay! That’s my boy!” Jamal shouted.

  Nicole’s praises followed. “Good job, Jay.”

  When they took their seats, Nicole began to unwrap her candy bar.

  “You sharing?” Jamal asked.

  Nicole handed him the whole thing. “Take it. I don’t need it.”

  “By the way how are things between you and London Fog?”

  “His name is Chauncey.”

  “My bad. For real, though Nikki. What do you see in that guy? You know somethin ain’t right with him.”

  “No, Jamal. I don’t know that. And you are the last person I would talk to about my relationship.”

  “You should. Guys know guys. But I’ll leave it alone.”

  They watched the rest of the game showing enthusiasm for their son’s performance, but with few words passing between them.

  Nicole was distracted thinking about Jamal’s comment. He wasn’t the only person who’d told her they didn’t trust Chauncey and, after two years, she was beginning to have her own doubts.

  Chauncey’s clients called all the time, day and night. Why women needed to call a personal trainer at those ridiculous hours was beyond her, but it was how he made his living, so she didn’t complain. Instead, she asked him to use his cell phone for business so she didn’t have to be bothered with the calls.

  His clients were professional women who believed a seventy-five dollar-an-hour personal training session every week was a necessity - and they had the paychecks to afford it.

  He did his work in their homes. Most gyms had trainers on staff and didn’t allow freelancers to use their facilities. He turned down offers from several gyms because he didn’t have working papers, something Nicole had yet to get a straight answer about.

  He told her working for himself was more beneficial since health clubs took their share from clients before paying the trainer.

  Nicole began to wonder whose pockets the money was actually going in or if he was even making any money at all. Lots of clients called but Chauncey always cried broke. She paid the twelve-hundred-dollar-a-month mortgage on the townhouse. He paid the utilities. He owned his truck outright, but she paid the insurance. When she asked him to contribute more, he always gave excuses; clients didn’t show up for appointments or checks hadn’t cleared. Nicole’s patience was wearing thin.

  Two years. No ring. No talk of a ring.

  Most of her friends didn’t like Chauncey. They tolerated him for her sake.

  About a month after he moved in, they were at the gym working out when her soror Candace, a cute mahogany sister who was built like a Buick, came in. Nicole introduced her to Chauncey and then went to play racquetball.

  When Chauncey saw Candace heading toward the weights, he immediately insisted on showing her some techniques. Candace made it clear she didn’t need his help, but noticed several sisters in the gym had no problem pretending they’d never seen a dumbbell.

  Later, at the showers, Candace told Nicole about the women who had approached Chauncey and how he was more than happy to oblige. Too happy, Candace thought. He even pocketed a telephone number.

  “How serious are you about this man, Nikki?” Candace asked.

  “Why?”

  “You want me to be honest?”

  “I haven’t stopped you from speaking your mind any other time.”

  “I don’t trust him.”

  “What are you basing that on? Did he hit on you or something?”

  “No. I wouldn’t go that far. He’s too comfortable with other women, though. I can’t put my finger on it. All I can tell you is there is something about him I don’t trust. And my instincts are usually right.”

  “Well I can’t kick him to the curb based on your instincts, Candy. I need more than that to go on.”

  “Who asked you to kick him to the curb? I’m just telling you to watch out. Take it for what it’s worth.”

  Nicole took a long sip of water and looked at Jamal. A grin covered his face and his eyes were glued to the basketball court.

  Why couldn’t he show this much interest in his son when we were together? I’m the mother of his child. Why wasn’t I reason enough for him to want to be a good man.

  His words rang in her head. Guys know guys. Somethin ain’t right with him.

  A bad feeling was beginning to drown her like a tidal wave. She tried to shake it by focusing on the source of the advice.

  Who is he to tell me anything after the way he treated me?

  Nicole and Jamal were college sweethearts at Hampton University, communications majors who met sophomore year over dry hamburgers in the student union. They had planned to get married right after graduation. Jamal decided to wait until he was settled in his career so instead they moved in together.

  Nicole wasn’t thrilled about shacking up, but her desire to be with Jamal was stronger than her mother’s warnings.

  After a year of living together in their Baltimore apartment, she found out she was p
regnant. Neither Jamal nor her parents were thrilled, but their attitude changed when Jay arrived.

  Jamal was making good money at a Baltimore marketing firm, so Nicole quit her job as a part time copywriter for a local television station to stay home with her new son.

  It was tough for Nicole to depend on someone else for everything from clothes to tampons. Worse, Jamal took advantage of her dependence.

  Six months after the baby came, the sweet, sensitive man she met in college had turned into a control freak. He limited her to one new outfit and a pair of shoes every three months, but bought new clothes for himself regularly and was hardly ever home.

  After the baby’s first birthday, she went back to work at the station full time as a producer. She bought a new wardrobe and upgraded from a compact to a Jeep.

  As soon as she saved enough money for first and last month’s rent on her own place, she left.

  Jamal came home to find a moving truck backed up to the front door.

  “Where the hell do you think you are taking my son?” he shouted.

  “Your son? You mean the son that you never see because you are never home? The son who barely knows you? I’m moving out.”

  “How are you going to make it without me?”

  Nicole laughed. “You must be kidding. I’ve got a job, Jamal, remember? You’re a piss poor excuse for a man and an even worse excuse for a father. I’ve been alone living with you so I know I can do alone better without you.”

  Nicole gave the movers instructions, put the baby in his car seat and drove off. She headed south on the Baltimore-Washington Parkway for Bowie.

  She followed hand-written directions to her new address; a tree-lined street with neatly manicured lawns, and drove into the driveway of the town home she’d rented with an option to buy.

  She sat in the driveway and cried silently while the baby slept in the back. Leaving his father was the right thing to do, but that didn’t make her feel better. She wasn’t supposed to be a single mother, a statistic. She was a college graduate. She was supposed to have a career. Before she became a mother, she was supposed to have been a wife.