Cheesecake and Teardrops (11 page)

When she didn't wake up, he took a blanket from the closet and draped it over her body and returned to his bedroom to watch the Knick game. They were playing on the West Coast, and he tuned in just in time for the opening tipoff.

Jamal removed his T-shirt and sweatpants before sliding under the covers of his full-sized bed. Only the light from the television invaded the room's darkness.

Halfway through the first quarter, he heard Heather stirring from the living room. A moment later there was a knock on his slightly ajar door.

“Jamal?”

“In here.”

She pushed the door open. “I guess I fell asleep.”

“It's all right. You had a long day. Come here.” He motioned.

“I'll give you the best seat in the house.”

Heather hesitated only slightly. “I have a cop friend on speed dial.”

“Hey, come check out this game. The Knicks are leading. You don't see that too often.”

“Okay, but watch yourself.”

“Don't worry. I know you're quick on the draw,” he said, referring to her speed-dialing technique as he sat up in bed.

“And don't you forget it,” she said as she plopped down on the bed next to him.

“Cold?” he asked.

“A little.”

“Here, get under the covers.”

She glanced at him sideways. “You must take me for an amateur.”

“You know me better than that.” He grabbed a pillow with one hand and placed it behind his head, his triceps catching Heather's eye.

“If I weren't a gentleman, I wouldn't have rescued you tonight and offered to drive you home when you're ready. I mean the offer still stands. I can take you home now if you like.”

“I'll let you know when,” she said, sneaking a peak at his boxers before lying down next to him.

“Comfortable?”

“Uh-huh,” she said as she lay on top of the covers.

“Your clothes'll be wrinkled by morning,” he warned.

“There's a robe in the bathroom behind the door if you like.”

“Who said I'm spending the night?”

“My bad,” he said and they both laughed.

“Where's your bathroom?” Heather asked on second thought.

“Down the hall, second door on the left.”

“Be right back.” She slid off the bed and headed down the hall. A white terry cloth robe hung behind the bathroom door. A wicked smile formed on her lips. She removed her shoes, panty hose, and cardigan and kept on her sleeveless tank and skirt. Then she tried on the robe. It was long enough to conceal her skirt. Perfect. She sashayed back into Jamal's bedroom and stood at the foot of his bed.

Evidently, just the vision of her in a robe with nothing on underneath bought a smile to his face.

“So you like 'em thick, huh?” she asked him.

“Oh yeeeah.” He grinned. “I like 'em thickali-cious.”

Imagining herself as an exotic dancer, Heather did a little dance, her eyes fixed on his. She opened the robe and his grin disappeared before the robe hit the floor. When she started removing her top and skirt, the grin reappeared.

His breathing deepened by the time she stripped to her bra and panties, teasing him with her gyrations. She squeezed her breasts gently as she licked her lips, rolling her tongue around the perimeter of her mouth.

“Damn,” was all Jamal could say. Heather grabbed the sides of her panties and pulled them down ever so slightly, ever so slowly, feeling his eyes glued to her body. In one quick motion, Jamal cut the distance between them in half.

They both laughed as he wrapped his arms around Heather's ample body and gently unhooked her bra. The sight of her bare breasts nearly took his breath away. He reached for the light switch to get a better look.

“No, don't,” she said, pulling his hand away from the wall. He flipped the switch on anyway. “You are so hot. I just want to see all of you.”

Men were all alike. Disgusted, Heather bent down and picked up her clothes from the floor. “I'm ready. You can take me home now.”

Tangie was convinced that there were four personality types of men in the world: the diplomat, the military, the clergy, and the politician. She said as much to Charisma and Heather one night over Charisma's delicious carrot cake.

“So what type was Blade?” Heather asked.

“He was hotheaded but great in bed,” Tangie decided.

“What a combination. I don't know which one of his heads was hotter. He was straight-up military-thug.”

“All military men aren't thugs,” Heather insisted.

“No, but most thugs have a military-type mentality,” Tangie said.

“Oh my goodness, she's even starting to sound like a therapist.” Heather shook her head.

“Don't hate me 'cause I'm analytical,” Tangie replied.

“When did you become so analytical?” Charisma asked as she got up from the kitchen table to fix some herbal tea to go with the carrot cake. She put the water on to boil and placed a box of assorted teas on the table along with cups, saucers, plates, utensils, sugar, and milk for Heather. Heather always had milk in her tea. It didn't take much time for the teakettle to start whistling, and before long they were all enjoying Charisma's homemade cake and soothing tea.

“What can I tell you?” Tangie shrugged her shoulders.

“I'm just keeping it real.”

“Okay, but you can't be analytical without being anal,” Charisma told her.

“That's not true,” Tangie said.

“Of course it is,” Charisma insisted.

“Anyhow, I just wish I knew why I'm always attracted to the same type. Maybe if I changed my type, I'd have better luck with men,” Tangie said.

“Heather, when Tangie and I were in third grade, she had her first big crush on a guy who used to steal people's lunch money. What was his name, Tangie?”

“Robin Hood?” Heather joked.

“Ryan. Ryan Garnett,” Tangie said reluctantly, shaking her head.

“And when we were in the fifth grade, who did you like?” Charisma asked Tangie.

“Dustin Simms,” Tangie said, yawning.

“And what was he suspended for?” Charisma asked.

“Bringing pot to school,” Tangie answered.

“And what about sixth?” Charisma continued.

“Enough already,” Tangie said.

“Well, if you keep doing the same thing, how can you expect different results? Maybe it's time to change your game plan and give up the roughnecks,” Charisma advised her.

Tangie thought for a moment. “Maybe you're right, Charisma. Maybe I should try a diplomatic type or someone with a political mind set.”

“What's the difference, Tangie.” Charisma yawned.

“Diplomats are levelheaded leaders. They're good providers. Politicians know the players on both sides of the fence. They're good protectors,” Tangie explained.

“Just stay away from the clergy,” Heather warned. “As many tricks as you have in your bag, you'd both probably burn in hell.” They all laughed.

“But seriously, where did this theory on men come from?” Charisma asked.

“Just something I came up with on my own,” Tangie admitted.

“Maybe you have too much time on your hands,” Heather sighed.

“Maybe one day I'll write a book.”

“I can hardly wait,” Heather said, shaking her head.

“You can laugh all you want to now, but when I become a bestselling author, we'll see who gets the last laugh,” Tangie told them.

 

Tangie was grateful that she hadn't run into Blade at the gym, but her luck was about to run out. Tangie checked her watch. It was almost 7:00
P.M.
She was meeting Charisma and Heather at Macy's in about an hour. She had just enough time to grab her belongings from the locker, sign out, and hit the streets. Thank goodness she had had another uneventful week, which translated into no Blade sightings.

As she made her way to the underground garage, her heart sank. Parked three cars down from hers, sat Blade in an SUV, his window rolled down. Apparently, his finances were looking up. She tried to shield herself behind another car, but not before he spotted her. He and something were all hugged up in the front seat. Tangie had seen her working out at the gym on more than one occasion. She wasn't all that.

“Whassup?” He nodded to Tangie as their eyes met.

“Hey,” she said simply as she walked to her car. She couldn't drive away fast enough. As she sped down Jamaica Avenue, her heart returned to near normal. She stopped at a light, whipped out her cell phone, and speed-dialed Charisma.

“Well, he didn't waste any time,” Tangie told her.

“Most men don't.”

“She wasn't even his type.”

“Please, anything with a hole is his type.”

The cars behind her honked their horns as the light turned green. “Shut up,” she snapped. “Listen, I'm on my way. I'll be there soon.” Tangie flipped her phone shut.

Traffic was such a nightmare along Sunrise Highway that even Heather beat her to the mall. By the time Tangie met up with them in the shoe department, she was totally ticked off. Charisma had filled Heather in on Tangie running into Blade and his latest in the parking lot.

“Isn't it amazing how women want variety in everything—clothes, jewelry, lipstick, shoes—God, knows shoes—but we spend practically our whole life searching for the
one
. Well, when the hell am
I
gonna find the
one
?” Tangie picked up a six-inch stiletto. “And why the hell are heels so damn high these days? Huh? Give me a freakin' break!”

Several customers turned to look at her, but she didn't give a damn.

“Let's get the hell outta her before I really explode,” Tangie warned them.

Charisma gave Heather a look.

“Let's get outta here,” Heather said, getting up from a chair.

“Okay, let me pay my bill,” Charisma said, walking to the register.

“I could use a drink,” Tangie said.

“We know,” Heather agreed

“Applebee's?” Tangie asked them both.

“Sounds good to me,” Charisma agreed as they took the escalator down to the main floor. “I'll drive,” she said as they walked out the door. They found her car and piled inside for the quick ride to the restaurant. They were seated at a booth immediately.

“I am
so
broke,” Heather admitted as she opened the menu. “I'm still paying off South Beach, and I need a good used car like yesterday. I can't take it anymore.”

“We got cha',” Tangie said. “Order away.”

The waiter returned to take their orders. They ordered drinks and two plates of appetizers. Even Heather stuffed her face. By the time the second round of drinks arrived, Tangie was laughing like she hadn't a care in the world.

“So what did Blade say to you?” Heather asked.

“Who?” Tangie asked as she sipped her drink. “You know what we oughtta do tomorrow night?” she asked without waiting for a response. “Let's go clubbing. I am
so
over Blade. It's time I really get back in the game and see what's out there.”

“Friday's payday. Can a sister hold out till then?” Heather asked Tangie.

She nodded.

“Then count me in.” Heather said.

 

Tangie couldn't wait for Friday night. In spite of her ranting and raving in Macy's earlier that week, she slipped on her four-inch heels and strutted out the door. Charisma picked up Heather first, then swung by Tangie's on her way to the city. Friday-night traffic was no surprise. It wasn't crazy; it was bearable until they crossed the Fifty-ninth Street bridge. City traffic was atrocious. It was a mild, winter night, and everybody and their mother was out. Charisma refused to pay the garage thirty dollars for a few hours of parking. So she rode around in circles until she lucked up and found a spot. It was a few blocks from the club, but at least it saved them thirty bucks.

There were a slew of guys hanging out in front of the club, but none of them were head-turning material. Charisma and Heather walked in with Tangie leading the way.

They checked their coats and headed for the bar. They hung out at the bar for a while, scoping the club for men. Tangie made eye contact with a guy across the dance floor. It was amazing how a dark room could play tricks on one's eyesight. She gave him a quarter-of-a-tank smile. He left his entourage and sauntered over anyway.

“I'm Bryce,” he introduced himself, shaking her hand.

“Tangie,” she said simply.

“Nice to meet you. Wanna dance?”

“Sure, why not?” She said rolling her eyes at Heather and Charisma as they walked to the dance floor. It was only a dance. He smiled, and she noticed his teeth. She had never seen an arrangement like that before, and they each had a direction all of their own. They danced to a couple of songs until the DJ decided to slow things down, at which point Tangie said she needed a drink.

Bryce insisted on buying her one, but she refused his offer. They found seats at the bar. Tangie gave Bryce a quick once-over, stopping at his feet. His black shoes matched his black pants and charcoal gray sweater, but they were like two sizes too big. There was a large gap around his heels.

Apparently, he thought big feet would give him an in with the ladies.
Well, not this lady,
she thought. She wondered how he had lasted on the dance floor without tripping over his own feet.

“Well, Bryce, it's been real, but I gotta go.”

“Why don't I give you my number, and we can get together sometime.”

“Let's not,” she told him before standing up and walking away. No use leading him on.

Twenty minutes later Tangie told Heather and Charisma the truth. “I thought I was ready for all this, but I'm not.”

“Nothing before its time,” Charisma said simply, reassuring her.

“You could bump into the man of your dreams at the coat check, and it wouldn't mean a thing,” Heather added.

“You're right,” Tangie said simply. “Let's go home.”

Tangie was dreading Monday morning. She was scheduled to be a recruiter for the gym at the New York job fair in the city, where over one hundred companies would be represented.

Thank goodness it was just for one day. She got up extra early to dress for success, apply makeup, and do her hair. She caught the Long Island Railroad and transferred to a bus, but luckily, she made it to the Jacob Javits Center without a hitch.

Katie Wong, her partner from the gym's Flushing branch, had already arrived. Katie was a young, friendly Chinese girl, who had already begun setting up pamphlets and applications.

The two hit it off instantly. Neither of them was thrilled to be there, but they made the best of a bad situation, talking a mile a minute. Reluctantly, Tangie changed from her sneakers to a pair of navy suede pumps, which were the exact same shade as her business suit. Katie held out until the last possible minute—8:59, to be exact—before she abandoned her flats for heels. Habitual sneaker wearers, they both dreaded the guaranteed eight hours of torture they knew their feet would endure, but appearances were everything while they were at the fair.

Since their booth was situated at the rear of the floor, it took some time before they saw their first prospect. She was a college graduate with a degree in accounting. Tangie took her résumé and she took pamphlets about career opportunities at Canyon's Club.

As the morning progressed, Tangie and Katie became flooded with a constant flow of applicants. Somewhere around noon there was a lull, and they both got the chance to catch their breath. Tangie looked around to check out the other booths. They were just as busy as she had been.

She stood for a moment to stretch her legs, catching the eye of the man in the booth across from her. She couldn't help but smile slightly before returning to her seat. She glanced up at the banner hanging above his booth. He was recruiting for the FBI, but after every few applicants, he would glance in her direction.

Tangie checked him out on the sly. He sported a freshshaved head and a navy pinstriped suit. Nice. Apparently, he thought the same about her because around lunchtime, he strolled over to her booth and invited her to lunch.

“Hi, I'm Tony. Excuse me for staring a moment ago, but I couldn't take my eyes off your . . . pumps.” He grinned.

Blushing, Tangie knew she was already in trouble. “I'm Tangie.”

“Nice to meet you, Tangie,” he said, shaking her hand and holding it just a bit longer than necessary. She didn't mind at all. They stood for a moment, enjoying the view, neither speaking.

“Do you like seafood?” he asked her.

“I love it.”

“Have you ever been to Presto's?”

“No, would you like to take me there?” She laughed.

Tony laughed too, rubbing his chrome dome with one swift stroke of the palm of his hand.

Secretly, the gesture drove her wild.

“Yes,” he said, grinning.

“Lead the way,” Tangie said, grabbing her coat. “I'll be back in time to relieve you,” she told Katie. “Take your time,” Katie said, smiling, looking from one to the other.

Tangie and Tony walked a few blocks to the restaurant, the winter air brisk and fresh. As much as Tangie loved the city, she didn't miss working there anymore. It was just too congested.

Surprisingly though, the restaurant wasn't crowded. They were seated right away. Tony and Tangie flipped open the menus and checked out the lunch specials.

“The shrimp scampi is all that,” Tony recommended.

“Would you believe I've never had shrimp scampi, but I'm feeling adventurous,” Tangie admitted. “Shrimp scampi it is,” she told the waiter.

“Make that two,” Tony agreed.

Tangie checked her watch and ran her fingers through her hair. She hoped her hair wasn't too windblown.