I Saw Your Profile Page 8

  He released his hold and kissed her on the cheek.

  “There. Now we are friends.” He took her hand as they strolled across the parking lot. She liked a man who wasn’t afraid to show affection in public.

  There was a ninety-minute wait for a pool table at Jillian’s, the entertainment and dining complex in the mall.

  Arianna suggested they eat.

  “Sure,” Mr. Good Body said. “But I can’t vouch for the food here.”

  “I’m just going to have a salad. You can’t mess that up too bad.”

  “No. I suppose not.”

  By the time they finished eating, a table was open in the poolroom. He helped her with her grip and her stance, teaching her to bend over at the waist and to line up each shot. Her silver bracelets sang each time she adjusted the pool stick.

  When she bent over, revealing a tattoo on her back of the same symbol she sported on her toe, she could feel his eyes on her tight, round ass.

  “Do you like this view, too?” She was aiming to knock the seven ball into the corner pocket.

  “Immensely. What is that you have tattooed on your back?”

  “Somehow I don’t think your attention to my form is for the purposes of helping me with my game.”

  “On the contrary. I can think of more than one thing at a time, you know. Your form is perfect. For pool and for some other things I have in mind when we get to know each other better.”

  Crack! Arianna hit the cue ball dead center. She knocked it against the burgundy seven, sending it racing across the table to its intended pocket, perfectly setting up her next shot.

  “Yes!” she jumped up proudly, a broad smile across her face.

  Mr. Good Body clapped loudly. “Well done, my dear. You are an excellent student.”

  “You’re not so bad as a teacher, either.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment since I’m sure it’s the best you can do.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing, my dear. Nothing at all.”

  “Does somebody need a little ego stroking?”

  “I don’t need it. I’m far too secure for that. But it would be nice. After all, you did challenge my abilities. Can you admit that I not only talk the talk, but walk the walk?”

  “Okay. You’re good. No. You’re very good.”

  “By the way, you never answered my question.”

  “What question?”

  “The tattoo on your back. And, please don’t disappoint me by telling me it’s a man’s name in Chinese or some other language.”

  She laughed.

  “It’s a symbol that honors the supremacy of God.”

  “I like your style. It’s very original.”

  They played ten games. He won every time. Arianna insisted that he play his best and not let her win. She was too competitive to have it any other way.

  After each game, he would take the balls she had left on the table and set up difficult shots for her. Every time she did it wrong, he would make her do it again. She hated being told what to do, but she wanted to learn.

  It was midnight when they finished.

  She racked the balls. “Isn’t there a club in here?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve been out. You wanna dance?”

  “Sure.”

  They walked to the back of the complex and stood in the line of mostly twenty-somethings waiting in the hallway outside the club to be carded. Inside, they were blasting Nelly’s “Hot in Herre.”

  Standing in line, Arianna started rolling her hips from side to side and snapping her fingers. Mr. Good Body slid behind her, grabbed her waist, and joined her groove.

  “I don’t usually let men touch me when I dance. Y’all get too excited and act like the dance floor is your bedroom.”

  “Well, first off, I know how to treat a lady. And second, I’m not some stranger you just met in the club. I think I’ve talked to and shared more with you on the phone in the past several weeks than I did with my ex-wife in three years of marriage.”

  “That’s sad.”

  “That’s one reason we’re divorced. What about you? We’ve never discussed your ex. You said you were married before. Why did you break up? Would you like to be married again?”

  Arianna didn’t answer. The lined moved up. Mr. Good Body moved in front of her and looked her in the eyes.

  “Well, Miss Singleton?”

  “I didn’t break up with my husband. He died from cancer. I loved him a lot and it took me a while to get over it. I’m not even sure if I am over it yet.”

  She paused a moment, her mind wandering back to her wedding day, then cleared her throat before continuing.

  “I don’t know if I want to get married again. I know I want to be in a monogamous, committed relationship. I just don’t know if that necessarily means marriage.”

  “I’m sorry. I guess I just assumed it was divorce,” he said, stroking her arm. “There’s so much of that going around. His death must have been hard on you and your children.”

  “That’s okay. I’m pretty young to be a widow so most people assume that. It was hard on us, but it gets easier with time.”

  “You haven’t been serious with anyone since he passed?”

  “No. Most of the guys I’ve met lack ambition, goals and drive. I want more than that and I won’t settle. Life is too short.”

  “What do you want? What are your goals?”

  “I want a lot of things. Most importantly, I want my children to be healthy and happy. For myself, I want to travel the world, meet new and exciting people and get to the top of my field.”

  “What’s the top?”

  “Owning my own business – a publishing house, a newspaper, or a magazine – I haven’t decided. I do know that I want to call the shots. I want to be the boss.”

  “Well, as an entrepreneur myself, I can tell you there is nothing like being your own boss. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. You work harder, but the rewards are well worth it.”

  “I’m sure.”

  It was their turn to get into the club. Arianna reached inside her purse for her driver’s license. He got his from his wallet.

  The bouncer gave them a cursory look and handed them back. They walked inside.

  Sweat was pouring off the walls and the haze of cigarette smoke was so thick they could barely see a foot in front of them.

  Arianna coughed. “Now, I remember why it’s been so long since I went out.”

  “Cigarette smoke bothers you, too?”

  “It’s disgusting,” she yelled, trying to be heard above P. Diddy’s “I Need a Girl.”

  “Well, don’t worry. We won’t be here long. We’ll leave as soon as it becomes too much for either of us to take.”

  They walked to the back of the club. He was holding her hand, guiding her through the crowd. They found an empty spot on the wall near the DJ booth.

  They looked around the room. It was definitely not their scene. A heavy set, dark-skinned woman wearing a blonde weave, green contacts, and a tight, denim short set walked by. The heels on her black platform boots were so high she could barely walk. She was braless, and her stretch-marked breasts were fighting a losing battle with gravity, peeking from the sides and drooping from the front of her halter.

  They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

  Arianna could barely contain herself. “Can you say GHET-TO fabulous?”

  Mr. Good Body rolled his eyes. “There are men - I’m sorry - BOYS – in here who actually think that is attractive.”

  “Do you?”

  “Do I look like a boy to you?”

  “No. You look like a full grown man.”

  “That I am. And my definition of sexy is standing before me. I am staring sexy right in the eyes.”

  “Good answer.”

  He pulled her close, bent down, slid his finger under her chin and gently pulled her face toward his.

  “May I kiss you
?”

  “Here in public?”

  “I have nothing to hide.”

  “Then kiss me.”

  He covered her mouth with his lips and their tongues danced for several minutes before Arianna decided the heat between them was too high.

  She pulled away from his embrace. “Let’s move this to the dance floor.”

  “You don’t like kissing me?”

  “I like it a little too much. Besides we came here to dance.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  She watched Mr. Good Body groove to the music, wondering if he could replicate those moves in the bedroom. She would wait to find out, though, not wanting to go out like that on the first date, though technically they’d known each other longer.

  They danced themselves sweaty, drinking apple martinis between songs. Arianna had a buzz by the time they left the club after last call.

  Mr. Good Body walked her to her car, and then joined her inside. Not wanting the date to end, they listened to the CDs in Arianna’s car, laughed and talked until the sun came up.

  “Drive back safely, dear,” Mr. Good Body said, kissing her on the cheek. “I want to make sure we have the chance to see each other again.”

  Chapter Eleven

  A watched phone never rings, yet Janelle couldn’t move from the white cordless on the end table or the silver cell phone next to it. Her new man had promised to drive down for the weekend, but never showed up and never called.

  They’d been seeing each other for months, taking turns traveling up and down Interstate Ninety-Five.

  When she drove up to see him, they always stayed at the Fairfield Inn in Beltsville; a few miles from the D.C. suburb where he told her he lived.

  He showed her his place once. She’d seen pictures of his sister, but none of the mother and brother he said had moved in with him, preventing them from having privacy at his place.

  Janelle paced the floor of her condo, decorated in a tropical theme, a tribute to her Jamaican roots.

  She walked to the window and pulled back the turquoise blinds. She felt empty inside and wanted someone to fill the void. Staring at the white sky, she slipped into a fantasy, imagining a smiling man appearing at her door, taking her in his arms and making her loneliness a faded memory. His features were indistinct. He could have been the father she didn’t know or the man she had fallen in love with. At that moment, either would do.

  Her walnut hued face was wet with tears. She plunked down on the dark green leather sofa and hugged a canvas pillow with an orchid design to her chest.

  She looked at the bamboo-framed picture of her and her new love resting on a wicker coffee table. They were on the merry-go-round at King’s Dominion, an amusement park about twenty miles north of Richmond. The picture was a moment frozen in time reluctantly captured by Vanessa when she and her boyfriend joined Chauncey and Janelle on a double date.

  She picked up the picture and ran her fingers along the edges of the frame remembering that day. There had to be more days like that in store. New memories to capture.

  She grabbed the phone and dialed his cell.

  “I am either with a client or otherwise occupied. Please leave the pertinent details and I will return your call at my earliest convenient juncture.”

  It was the tenth time she’d heard the message that weekend. She slammed the phone down.

  God, I hate his damn voice mail. His earliest convenient juncture!

  Janelle knew Chauncey’s clients were impressed by his British accent and formal language, but she hated it. She liked that he spoke in his native Bajan when he was in her company, though his accent was slight, except when he was angry.

  She felt special, as if she had a part of him no one else shared.

  She picked up the receiver again, this time calling her daughter, Yasmin, in Atlanta, to pass time. Yasmin and Devon, her son, were the two things she believed she got right. Yasmin was a paralegal studying to be a lawyer. Devon was a senior at Chapel Hill.

  Janelle moved from Norfolk to Richmond after her divorce. Norfolk held too many bad memories. She and Alvin had moved there when he was transferred to the naval base.

  Surely, Chauncey was not like Alvin. He was too loving, too gentle. He’d never treat her like a doormat, the way Alvin used to. He had to have a good reason for standing her up. Had he been hurt?

  She dialed his cell number again. This time he answered.

  He said he’d been locked up for the weekend by Virginia’s Finest for speeding and an outstanding warrant.

  “Baby, why didn’t you call me to bail you out?”

  “I was in Northern Virginia and I didn’t want to ask you to drive all this way.”

  “Why did you have a warrant?”

  “I had a speeding ticket in New York that I forgot to pay. Thanks to all this damn technology, all the states are hooked up to each other. I’m sorry I couldn’t get in touch with you, sweetie.”

  “Why did you have to stay the whole weekend? Couldn’t you just bail yourself out?”

  “No. I don’t live in Virginia and I’m a black man so they figured I wouldn’t come back for my court date. They left me here all weekend so I could go before the judge today. I paid the ticket and court costs and he let me go.”

  “Good. When are we going to see each other again?”

  “Can’t say. Things are really bad right now. I went to put gas in my truck and my check card didn’t work. My account’s overdrawn because one of my client’s checks bounced. She only pays every three months so it was almost two thousand dollars. The checks I wrote to pay my condo fees and other bills are going to bounce. I’ll need a few weeks to catch up.”

  “Damn, baby. What are you going to do?”

  “I’ve got my legal beagle working on the case and he’s pretty sharp. In the meantime, I’m going to see if I can borrow some money to stay afloat.”

  “How much do you need? I could probably swing a couple hundred.”

  “That’s sweet. I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be all right.”

  “I’ll tell you what. I’ll come up next weekend and I’ll spring for the hotel, okay? I really want to see you.”

  “I want to see you too. I miss you.”

  Janelle paid for her trip to Maryland the following weekend and many more after that.

  She wasn’t rich, but she had enough to support herself, and to give to Devon and Yasmin when they needed help.

  She and Alvin sold their house as part of the divorce settlement and she used her share as a down payment to buy the condo. She also got alimony and a share of Alvin’s military pension.

  But as time went on, more and more of her money was being spent on her new man.

  Whenever he recovered from one setback, there always seemed to be another – a car note, car insurance, a utility bill. She even had to send him gas money to drive down to see her.

  He always promised to make it up to her.

  “Most women would have left me by now, Janelle. I know things have been tough, but when I get on my feet, I promise things will be different. I’m going to be the one helping you. And I’m going to make you my lady officially.”

  “Is that a proposal?”

  “It’s a promise that I’ll propose when I have more to offer you. I can’t believe I finally found a woman like you, someone who’s got my back and who will go the distance with me.”

  She had his back, his front and his middle.

  When Janelle’s bank account began showing signs of wear and tear, Vanessa started asking questions.

  “Girl, why are you always broke all of a sudden?”

  Janelle was doing Vanessa’s hair and had declined her invitation to go shopping because she was low in the pockets.

  “You never used to sing the blues about money. Maybe you should stop rippin and runnin up the highway all the time to see that nigga and make him come down here to see you.”

  “He does drive down to see me.”

  “Not as much as you
chase after his ass. Why do you bother with these young bruthas anyway? You need to get yourself an older man. They know how to treat women.”

  “Did you forget? Alvin was seven years older than me. Plus, I’m forty-four and he’s thirty-eight. That’s only a six-year difference. It’s not like I’m robbing the cradle and he’s not exactly young.”

  “He ain’t exactly stable either, is he? You ain’t broke just from gassin up your car and drivin up there to get laid. You doin a whole lot more for that man than you admit.”

  “Who are you? My accountant? You don’t know what the hell I do with my money.”

  “I got a pretty damn good idea. A woman don’t go from bein fine money wise to the poor house in a matter of months for no reason. You got a job and you get alimony. You ain’t got no drug or gambling problem. At least not that I know of. So that only leaves one thing. A triflin, goodfonuthin type of brutha.”

  Janelle handed Vanessa a mirror to check out her do. “Go to hell. Here, I’m finished.”

  Vanessa fluffed her thick, curly mane and laughed.

  “Thanks, it looks nice. You know, you always sendin me to hell when I tell you the truth.”

  She stood up and handed Janelle thirty dollars. “But that’s okay. You gonna wake up sooner or later. And I’ll be there for you like I always am. Your man is the one who’s gonna be makin hell his home. I just hope you don’t go bankrupt before he gets there.”

  Vanessa kissed her friend. “See you next week. Same time. Same place.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The scent of jasmine permeated the house. Boney James’ “Shake it Up” was playing loudly, giving Arianna something to groove to as she fixed dinner. The salmon fillets were marinating and the wine was chilling in the refrigerator. Wild rice and asparagus were simmering on the stove.

  Strawberries and red, seedless grapes were set out on the oak coffee table in the living room as appetizers.

  Akilah and Amir were spending the night at friends.

  Her queen, four-poster bed had fresh sheets and a brand new box of condoms were in the nightstand drawer.