Cheesecake and Teardrops (29 page)

Heather placed her chin in her hand and sighed. “I guess that's what makes life so hard.”

 

That weekend Paula literally took Heather to the Next Level—Manhattan's trendiest gay bar. Heather was amazed at how many women were trying to catch her eye—moving in and invading her personal space ever so slightly as they said hello. There were blacks, whites, Latinas, Asians, all incredibly gorgeous, circling like piranhas in heat. Heather had to admit it gave her a rush. She squirmed in her seat slightly.

Paula leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I have to run to the naughty girls' room. Are you okay, hon?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I'll be right back.” She massaged Heather's bare shoulder with her perfectly manicured fingernails. Heather sipped her peach martini as she watched Paula walk downstairs. A beautiful Latina zeroed in on Heather, her eyes roving over her mocha tank top with its scripted
bling it on
in gold letters. Heather sensed that her tanned twins were what was drawing her attention. The confident Latina actually reached for Heather's nameplate necklace, marveling at the golden links. Her hand grazed Heather's breast as she returned the chain to her neck.

Then she whispered in Heather's ear. “Wanna dance?”

“No, that's okay.”

“Oh come on. It'll be fun,” she insisted, moving her hips seductively to the music and gently grabbing Heather's hand. The Latina ran her fingers through her long, thick mane, checking for split ends. “You don't know what you're missing,
mami
. Once you have a woman, you never go back. One hit of all this,” she said, rubbing her hands over her hips, “and you're hooked.”

They say the same thing about crack.
Heather shook her head.

“If you change your mind . . .” She winked before leaving.

“I'll let you know,” Heather promised, breathing heavier than usual. She was just beginning to sweat as Paula returned.

“Everything okay?” Paula asked her.

“Yeah,” Heather agreed.

“Good. Let's get outta here.”

Tony left Tangela's house that morning and headed home. He knew what had to be done—for her sake. She deserved so much more than he could ever give her.

Last night he had come this close to jumping her bones. The moment he nestled up against her soft, warm flesh, he had to grab a pillow to wedge between his knees to camouflage his hard-on. Her scent still drove him nuts, reminding him of a time when she was his for the taking.

Tony closed the door to his eighth-floor co-op. As he walked from room to room, he opened up the blinds. Sunlight flooded his home. He headed for the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee before returning to his home office.

It was time to find out who the hell this Jordan was. Tony had jotted down his license plate number the minute he got home from the Stephanie Mills concert that night. Like they say, the dullest pencil is better than the sharpest mind, and he definitely didn't want to leave something like Jordan's license plate to chance.

He tapped into several databases and before the morning was over, he knew everything about Jordan Newport, from his first grade teacher's name to his shoe size. He knew all his favorite hangouts, as well as the magazines he subscribed to. Yep, working for the FBI definitely had its privileges.

 

“Gosh, you're glowing,” Tangie said to Charisma, fresh from her honeymoon. The three met up at Applebee's for drinks.

Heather added, “You look like a million bucks. Are you happy?” Charisma grinned.

“It shows. Marriage definitely agrees with you.” Tangie nodded.

“So how was Paris?” Heather asked.

Charisma summed it up in one word. “Incredible. I'll e-mail you the pictures, and you wouldn't believe how hard it was to order toast in the morning. I think I put on five pounds, but it's good to be home. God bless America. I missed you guys. Catch me up. What's been going on?” She took a sip of her strawberry daiquiri.

“I have been hitting that gym like Muhammad Ali beating on George Foreman,” Heather said.

“You look good, girl,” Charisma told her.

“You should see her at the gym,” Tangie said. “She's working out like nobody's business.”

“I am on a serious mission.” Heather laughed. “And if you don't know, you better ask somebody.”

“That's what I'm talking about,” Charisma agreed.

“Ready for some more news?” Tangie asked without waiting for an answer. “Tony and I are back together,” she exclaimed.

“What?” Heather and Charisma said in unison.

“We spent the night together. I still love that man. I still love him,” she said simply.

Heather spoke first. “We don't want to see you hurt again.” She toyed with the straw of her diet soda.

“I'm a big girl,” Tangie reassured them. “And you know I've never stopped loving him. Please be happy for me.”

“We
are,
Tangie. You mean the world to us. You know that. You're our girl, but are you sure he's not going to hurt you again?” Charisma asked.

Tangie took a sip of her martini pop and scooted a bit in the booth. “No, of course not. Nothing in life is certain. Life is a gamble, and I'm willing to take that chance. Again.”

“Well,” Charisma said, raising her glass in a toast. “Behind every successful woman is herself.” The three clinked glasses, silently saying a prayer for Tangie.

 

Tony leaned back in his chair, gazing out the window of his downtown Manhattan office. Now that he had gathered all of this information on Jordan, what was he going to do with it? Was Jordan Tangela-worthy? He didn't know. He picked up the phone and dialed Jordan's number. He swiveled back around and grabbed a pen, tapping it on the cherrywood desk. No answer. He checked his watch. It was only three-thirty. He'd try again later. It was time he and Jordan had a man-to-man. It was one thing reading a dossier. It was a totally different matter speaking with someone in the flesh.

That night Tony got his wish. He and Jordan met at a bar down Hillside Avenue. They had a couple of drinks at the bar before switching to a booth for privacy.

“So what's this all about?” Jordan asked.

“I'll give you two guesses.”

“I bet I only need one, Tangie.”

“Tangela it is.” Tony winked, raising his beer.

“So you're the one anointed to call her Tangela. I guess you know her better than I ever will,” Jordan admitted.

“Maybe not. If you play your cards right.”

“Since you seem to know all the secrets, are you willing to help a brother out?” Jordan asked.

“Hey, it's every man for himself.” Tony's eyes could have drilled a hole in him.

Jordan got up to leave.

“And it looks like you've lost before the game's even begun.”

The two men stared at each other as though they were preparing for a game of chess. After they emitted enough testosterone between them to start a forest fire, something made Jordan sit back down.

“Another round?” Tony asked him, draining his glass.

Jordan nodded. “Why not?”

 

That was a week and a half ago. Tony believed that he'd done right by Tangela, but the lump in his throat begged to differ. No matter how much he loved her, he was first and foremost a realist. He was a company man. And no matter how many times he mulled it over in his head, the answer was still the same. He and Tangela could never be. It simply wouldn't work. The FBI was like a jealous wife. She allowed no room in his life for a demanding mistress, even a legal one. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Tony picked up the phone and dialed Tangela's number anyway.

 

Tangie had just gotten back from lunch when she was paged to the club's front desk. Apparently, it was urgent. They paged her three times before she left the staff locker room, but she was in no mood to rush. Until, of course, she spotted a delivery boy carrying a bouquet of lime green roses. Smiling, she quickened her step. She was anxious to read the note, recognizing Tony's scroll instantly.
Let's make tonight unforgettable.
Tangie smiled at the thought. She fumbled in her sweatpants pockets for a dollar. Then on second thought, she tipped him two. It was that kind of day.

Tony must have gotten the delivery confirmation because shortly after he sent her a text message.

Your place or mine?

Tangie was in the middle of a transaction when she got his message. She thought for a moment before responding.

Mine, definitely mine.

He answered back immediately.

Name the time and I'll be there.

Eight o'clock, she replied, before getting back to work, counting the hours until quitting time. She hadn't taken anything out for dinner. Everything was frozen. So she mentally scrambled to put together a menu as she drummed her fingers on the mousepad. What did she cook the last time they were together? She drew a complete blank, but as she clocked out, she knew there'd be no time to hit the supermarket. Hopefully, she had all the fixings to whip up something delicious.

Tangie got jammed in trying to maneuver her way though Jamaica Avenue traffic. The streets were packed with summertime shoppers. Didn't they know she had a hot date with her man that night? Evidently not. The light turned green, and she hit the accelerator, but pedestrians jumped out of nowhere, strolling across the walkway like she had all the time in the world. Not. New Yorkers were a mess. Of course, they had the right of way. By the time the walkway cleared, the light had turned red. Damn. It was already 6:15. Luckily, when the light turned green this time, she was able to make her turn and be on her way. She was home half an hour later.

Tangie took a quick shower and headed for her bedroom. She noticed that her answering machine light was blinking and quickly played the message. It was Tony. Don't cook, he told her. He'd pick up Pizza Hut.

Tangie breathed a sigh of relief. No need to worry about dinner. She slipped into a pair of denim shorts and a baby blue halter top, checked herself in the mirror and smiled. She didn't know exactly what the future held for her and Tony, but she was determined to enjoy the ride. Her phone rang again. It was Jordan. She let her machine pick up.

Tangie went to the kitchen to pour herself a tall glass of raspberry lemonade. She then programmed her CD player and turned on the stereo before relaxing on the sofa. Her eyes feasted on the luscious lime roses she had brought home from work, recalling the very first time Tony had surprised her with them. The sound of the doorbell brought her back to the present.

She answered the door. Tony walked in waiter-style, balancing the pizza box on one hand above his right shoulder. He headed for the kitchen, where Tangie got plates and napkins.

“Let's eat in the living room,” she said as he cracked open the box, revealing a piping-hot cheese crust pizza with her favorite toppings—black olives, mushrooms, and extra cheese. It was pure, unadulterated cholesterol heaven, and they enjoyed every artery-clogging morsel.

“So how's it going?” Tangie asked him, taking a sip of her lemonade.

“Okay,” he said, biting into another slice.

“Oh, let me get you something to drink.”

“No, don't get up. I'll get it,” he said, heading for the kitchen and returning momentarily with a beer.

Tangie picked an olive off her pizza and popped it into her mouth. “Ever think about us getting back together?”

“All the time,” he said seriously.

“We're so right for each other. I know we can make it work. Can't you see that?” She wanted to open up his head and pour some sense into him.

“Listen to me, Tangela,” he said gently. “You and I will always be connected. And if you ever need me, I'm here for you. My love for you hasn't ended. It's just switched gears. One day, it will all make sense to you, and you'll thank me.”

Married life was sweeter than either Charisma or Nate could possibly imagine. They were six weeks into their nuptials, and the honeymoon was hotter than ever. They had already christened every room in Nate's town house with their lovemaking. Even the laundry room had been a tight, yet satisfying fit.

Every day Charisma would come home and start dinner. Nate never knew what she planned to cook, but by the time he arrived home, the most delicious aromas filled the air. Charisma loved cooking for her husband. She had almost perfected his favorite dishes, and he didn't mind telling her how he loved having a wife who satisfied his appetite in and out of the bedroom.

Charisma was all settled into her new home. They had already decided before the wedding that since his place was larger, she'd move in with him. Sure, she missed her condo; she had lived there for years. But she loved her husband even more. She appreciated the little changes that came with marriage, like no longer having to make what she called the single girl's call the minute the bank opened on payday to make certain the deposit was there. And a beautiful thing happened one Saturday morning when Nate was out playing tennis. She was watching her favorite homeshop-ping channels and decided to buy a pair of gold earrings. It had been so long since she'd placed an order, and of course her phone number and address had changed. The representative actually had to look her up. That's when she realized that she didn't need the earrings and canceled the order.

She told Nate about it later that evening. “No, you don't understand, babe. I was a serious shopaholic. Once upon a time I'd go barefoot before I'd wear a round toe shoe in a pointy toe season. I was a hot mess. Tangie and Heather were planning an intervention.”

“So now you're a recovering shopaholic. Thank God,” he said, laughing.

“You laugh, but our marriage could have been on the rocks right about now.”

 

Nate's secretary held all her boss's calls while he sat in on a weekly morning conference call. By the time the call ended, he had two messages from Chase Martini marked urgent. He returned Chase's calls later that afternoon when he had a free moment. He quickly dialed her cell phone.

“Chase, it's Nate. What's up?”

“I need to see you. It's important.”

“What's it about?”

“I can't go into it over the phone. I'm on Fiftieth between Fifth and Sixth. Can you meet me in Starbucks inside Rockefeller Center? I'll be here for another hour.”

“See you at four-thirty?”

“Sure,” he said before hanging up, wondering what she could possibly want to discuss. Nate called his bride to tell her he'd be home a bit late then finished up at work before leaving for the day.

Nate walked the short distance to Starbucks along Manhattan's crowded streets. Between the street vendors, the dog walkers, and the tourists taking pictures, he could barely maneuver through the congestion. When he reached Starbucks, Chase was already there sipping on an iced coffee.

“Thanks for coming,” she said politely.

“What's this all about?” he asked, sitting down.

She hesitated for a moment. “I'm pregnant.”

“You're what?” he asked in disbelief.

“I'm pregnant,” she repeated.

“I don't believe this,” he said, his voice tinged with disgust.

“Nate, I'm five months pregnant.”

“Five months? You're not even showing. Is it mine?”

“Yes, it's yours,” she said adamantly.

“Aren't I the lucky one.” He spewed sarcasm.

They stared at each other in silence.

“So why didn't you just have an abortion?”

“Just have an abortion? I'm Catholic.”

“So premarital sex is fine, as long as you don't have an abortion afterward? You're such a hypocrite. Your family would skin you alive for bringing home a black baby. So what does that leave? Adoption?”

Chase didn't answer at first. “You think I want to give my baby away?” she asked him bitterly, tears welling up in her eyes. “Huh?”

“I think you'd give away your ass if you thought it would save your lily-white name. On second thought, maybe if you had, we wouldn't be in this mess now.”

“You don't understand, Nate. When I told my family, it nearly killed my grandfather. He's a very proud man.”

“Yeah, I can just imagine. He's so proud that the thought of a black great-grandchild probably gave him a heart attack, right?”

“You're just as much to blame as I am. So don't you dare act like this is all my fault. You got that?”

Nate felt like he was living a nightmare. How the hell was he going to tell Charisma that not only did he have a one night stand with a woman she despised, but that she was now carrying his child? Charisma put up a brave front, acting like being childless didn't bother her. But he could see the sadness in her eyes when she thought no one was watching, and he felt her pain. How could he expect to stay married behind all this drama? Charisma loved him, but she wasn't a saint. Damn, if he could only relive that night in Vegas. He'd regret it for the rest of his life. Somehow, he couldn't let her have the baby. Otherwise, he and Charisma would be history.

He tried another tactic. “What is it that you want, Chase?” he asked gently.

“I don't know what I want. I just want all this to be over. I want my life back.”

“And you can have it back, if that's what you really want. You can make that happen. And I'll be there with you every step of the way. I promise.”

“I am not supposed to be sitting here talking about having an abortion. This is not how my life is supposed to be. Abortions are for other women. Not women like me. I'm above that.”

“Of course you are, Chase.” He grabbed her hand. “We need to take care of this discreetly before any more time goes by. No one will ever know what really happened. And your honor will be restored. We can go away for the weekend, and you can tell your family you miscarried. There's got to be a doctor somewhere who can handle this.”

“It's not going to be as easy as you make it sound.”

“Who else knows you're pregnant besides your family?”

“Just my best friend, Loren.”

“Can you trust her?”

“With my life.”

“Well, if you rather she go with you, I'll understand. But if you need me, I'll be there too.” He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed his in return.

“I can't believe I'm even considering this.”

“Do you go to confession?”

“Twice a year.”

“And do you think God forgives you for your sins?”

She nodded slowly.

“Then he'll forgive you for this one too.”

 

 

Charisma had the dream again last night. She was alone in a restaurant full of strangers, blacks, whites, Asians, men, women. They were all dressed in black, a stern look planted on their faces. When any one of them glanced her way, a chill went through her. They all seemed to want to make eye contact with her, every last one of them. It was almost as if she was on display. Then one by one, they stood and passed by her table, looking her squarely in the eye before exiting. She woke up with a jolt, her heart pounding fast in her chest. She reached out for Nate, but he was not there.

Nate was downstairs pouring himself a drink at the bar. He hadn't had a good night's sleep since learning of Chase's pregnancy. If she refused to have the abortion, how the hell was he going to tell Charisma? He scratched his head nervously. Even though he had gotten Chase pregnant after Charisma stood him up at the airport and they weren't yet a couple, he knew that she would never forgive him. His hands were tied. Nate polished off one drink and poured himself another. His mind was racing, but the alcohol helped slow it down. He dozed off, the drink still in his hand. He was awakened by Charisma's touch as she shook him gently.

“Babe, come to bed,” she said. “Come on.”

Startled, Nate drained his glass as Charisma led him back to bed. “What time is it?” he asked.

“It's after two. You have an early meeting in the morning.”

Nate was out the moment his head hit the pillow, but he had a restless sleep, tossing and turning all night. He woke up exhausted, barely making it to work on time.

 

 

Chase had had a restless night as well, but when she woke up, the answer to her problem was crystal clear. She would have the abortion. Her doctor made a few phone call and knew a doctor who specialized in high-risk, late-term abortions. Chase decided an abortion was best for all concerned—herself, her unborn child, and even Nate. Not that she was concerned about his welfare. Chase wasn't trying to make it easy for him. She just wanted control of her life back. Unfortunately, her baby would pay the price.

Later that day she called Nate to tell him the news. He was obviously relieved to hear of her decision, offering to be by her side for support. Chase declined his offer and hung up, promising herself that she would never speak to that bastard again.

 

Nate left work early, opting to enjoy the August sun. The past week had been torturous, waiting for Chase to decide. Now that she was having the abortion he could exhale, but he'd have to carry that secret to his grave.

As he boarded the railroad home, a smile of relief graced his face. Occasionally, he would glance out the window, marveling at what a difference a phone call could make. He decided to pick up Charisma from work, as he exited the train and found his parked car. Her car was at the mechanic's, and he didn't want her cabbing it. If he hurried, he could just about make it.

He parked across the street from Freeman LTD, his eyes glued to the revolving door, awaiting her exit. Finally, he saw her, his beautiful, loving wife. She had no idea that he had almost lost her. He had come
this
close to screwing it up for them, but thank God he was able to talk some sense into Chase.

Charisma spotted her husband and smiled. As she crossed the street, he leaned over and opened the door for her. She greeted him by planting a big, fat juicy kiss on his lips.

“What a nice surprise,” she said.

“Just trying to be a good husband.” He started the car, and they drove off.

“Honey, you missed the exit,” Charisma reminded him.

“No, I thought maybe we'd go out to dinner. I want you nice and relaxed tonight. It's been a long week.”

“Ooh, I like that. Where to?”

“Name the spot.”

“How about Cabana?”

“You got it.”

They drove to Forest Hills and parked a few blocks from the restaurant. It was a gorgeous August evening, and Nate couldn't help but check out his wife's figure as she walked beside him. Charisma wore a sleeveless form-fitting meloncolored dress and matching high-heeled sandals. She made summer look good. Apparently, mesmerized by her curves, several men stopped talking as she and Nate walked by.

As usual for a Friday night, Cabana was packed, and they waited over half an hour for a table. Once they tasted the meal, they knew the wait had been worth it. They ordered a pitcher of sangria and then dined on salmon and steak, eating off of each other's plate.

“Do you know how much I love you?” Nate asked his wife.

“I'm a lucky woman.”

“No, I'm the lucky one.” He grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Why don't we go home and both get lucky?”

“You read my mind. Let me run to the ladies' room, and I'll be good to go.” After a few moments, Charisma returned to the table, smiling mischievously.

Nate paid the check and they left. Charisma snuggled against him in the car, eager to get home and get naked with her husband. He slid his hand under her dress and up her bare thighs, pleasantly surprised that she wore no panties underneath. Before long his fingers were covered with her wet stickiness. He brought his fingers up to his lips, licking them in anticipation. He stopped for a red light and pulled her toward him, spreading her lips with his own. Before the light turned green, she had unzipped and hiked up her dress, returning his kiss. She climbed off his lap as another car drove up behind them. Charisma grabbed her husband's bulging dick through his underwear.

It grew in response to her touch.

“Damn it, baby. You're driving me crazy,” he said, turning off onto a wooded, dead-end street.

“We're almost home.” she told him.

“Uh-uh. I want you now.” He led her to the backseat of the car. Like two hot, sweaty teenagers, they relieved themselves within the cramped confines of the Camry. It was a fast, hot fuck, and they lay back satisfied, yet exhausted.

Nate and Charisma laughed softly as they readjusted their clothes. Nate cracked the window.

“I see I'm gonna have to dust you for fingerprints when you come home in the evening,” he warned.

“Why?”

“You go to work without panties, and you ask why?”

Charisma laughed as she reached for her purse and retrieved her panties. She quickly put them back on, explaining to him that she removed them in Cabana's restroom.

“Oh, you're good,” he said. “You planned this whole thing and made me think it was my idea.”

She laughed wickedly as they returned to the front seats. Nate started the car just as a cop car drove by. They were home in no time and fell asleep in each other's arms.

 

Before Nate's secretary even arrived his phone was ringing off the hook. It was Chase.

“What's going on?” he said drily.

“I can't do it, Nate.”

“Are you crazy? I thought this was settled.” He sat down at his desk.

“I know, but I changed my mind.”

“Look, you're just scared. That's all. I'll meet you after work and we'll discuss this rationally.”

“There's nothing to discuss. I'm not doing it. I'm having this baby.”