Liar's Game (34 page)

Vince didn’t see me. When I saw him with Naiomi, my braids wanted to stand straight up. I was right there the whole time.

I had picked up the information off the answering machine, wrote down what Malaika had said about meeting her at the skating rink, used my little old Thomas Guide to find my way over to Mid Town. Ya know, sometimes this other side gets a grip on me and I have to go with that flow. That’s why I was down at World on Wheels before Vince and Naiomi showed up. Took my booty down there early and hoped that Malaika would be there before he arrived and not get here up CP-time.

That sister-girlfriend-ex-wife was there before I made it to the skating rink. I walked right by her three or four times, smiling every time, stood right next to her while she bought Kwanzaa a soda.

I told her, “You child is so pretty.”

Malaika thanked me and smiled.

“You and her daddy brought her out for some fun?”

She chuckled. “It’s just the girls today.”

No hubby on the scene. She looked right at me, smiled, heard my East Coast accent, had no idea who I was. Her eyebrows were plucked to perfection. Her jeans, a little tight. She’d carefully chosen what she was going to wear.

Kwanzaa ran over to the video games with the other kids.

Malaika told a lady with her, “He should be here any minute.”

“You nervous?”

“Yes. Just hope I’m doing the right thing.”

It’s not the kid. Was never about Kwanzaa. It’s the other woman that makes me uncomfortable. If I hadn’t seen that tape from their marriage, hadn’t heard him begging her, it wouldn’t be so bad. I don’t know any other woman who could stand to watch her man become weak the moment another woman’s voice reached his ear. No woman wants to see her man crumble for another woman.

I went back outside and sat in my car. Then I saw Vince get out of Naiomi’s Jeep. Watched his body language, so confident, back so much straighter since I wasn’t with him, clothes perfect, like he’d made sure he’d worn the right thing too.

Him and his ex went inside.

Naiomi went inside a few seconds later.

I told myself to go rent skates, join the party, just happen to be there. But I left and drove to my office.

 

“Shelby Williams? It’s Dana Smith from ReMax.”

“Hey, Dana. What’s up? Any word?”

“Hey, new homeowner!”

Shelby screamed with joy. “Everything went through?”

They were out of escrow, out of purgatory. That dream house was all theirs. “Sounds like you’re having a party over there.”

“Book club meeting,” she told me. “About forty sisters are here.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow sometime.”

“Okay.”

“Tell Tyrel I said congrats.”

“Hey, before he left for Australia, my hubby told me to tell you he was passing your fiancé’s résumé around Dan L.Steel.Jordan Greene or Stephan Mitchell might end up calling him for an interview.”

“Thanks.”

“Maybe when you guys get married, we’ll end up being neighbors.”

I was glad that over the phone, people couldn’t see your face. Couldn’t see what the eyes couldn’t hide.

I hung up and gazed out the window.

Late afternoon sunshine was strong. Up the street golfers were out, having fun in the sun. Beaches had to be packed. I decided that I might not work tomorrow. If I did, I wanted to leave work early, go to Santa Monica, buy a thong bikini at the mall, and hang out on the beach until the sun was swallowed by the ocean. Maybe have strangers with broken accents lust after me, maybe buy a disposable camera and have them take pictures of me half-naked sporting a West Coast tan, smiling in the Cali sun, photos to show my friends when I made it back to Harlem.

That was a maybe for tomorrow.

But for now I closed my eyes. An angel with my momma’s voice whispered in my ear, invited me to escape everything west of the Mississippi. I followed the wisdom of that unseen heavenly spirit and imagined I was back in Harlem, in a season of cold with snow falling all over the city, on Malcolm X Boulevard between 126th and 127th Street. At Sylvia’s, sitting underneath pictures of Courtney Vance, Dru Hill, and Hi-Five. That Mo’ Better Blues poster on the paneled walls leading downstairs to the bathroom. Dishes rattling, silverware clanking against plates as people ate. NY1 playing all the bad news from the five boroughs on the small television over the bar. I was in my favorite spot facing the boulevard, in a straight-back chair, at a table that had green tablecloths under the glass tops. All around me were waitresses in black slacks, white shirts, and ties. Jamaican accents. Dominican accents. In front of me was a huge plate: sardines and grits, sautéed chicken livers, pork chops, salmon cakes, pattie sausage, cornmeal fried whiting, pinto beans, black-eyed peas, and a big-ass bottle of Sylvia’s kicking hot sauce. I wanted every bit of it too. I inhaled and smelled every spice, felt the meal’s heat.

When I opened my eyes, I was still in California.

Gerri used me as a cover, told her kids that we were going out together, eating at La Louisianne and then getting our party on. She did all of that in front of Melvin. He’d come by to snatch up the rug rats, was taking them to the movies, then dropping them off later after they were done doing that bonding-slash-nurturing thing. When they left, Gerri packed up her gear and headed for Blondies. And there was no way I was going to sit around her condo and stare at the walls, not with this much on my mind.

I’d dialed Vince’s number four or five times—all evening he was MIA. My imagination filled in the blanks.

Had to find my own peace of mind.

Allowed myself to gravitate toward where I was wanted.

To where I was safe.

 

At nine-thirty I had on my favorite wool LBD—Little Black Dress—and beaded jewelry. Classy, sexy, and hipness rolled into one. All that and black strapped heels. The sweetest perfume I owned.

Claudio said, “So, this is restaurant row.”

“Yep.”

From my window at the Warehouse, I took a deep breath as I gazed toward the ocean and saw thousands of stars standing high in the sky. In front of me were just as many yachts. The area reeked of money, old and new.

Claudio said, “This area is nice.”

“A lot of exotic food places are down here.”

“Ain’t a damn thing more exotic than you.”

“Claudio, knock it off.”

Above us, sweet-faced couples were at candlelit tables, chowing down seafood and steaks while a jazz band did their thing. On the other side of my reflection, outside on the wooden deck right below us, were tables of buppies, muppies, and yuppies pigging out underneath the table warmers. Couples were holding hands, eyes glinting with pleasure, laughing, sharing entrées and feeding each other in between smiles.

The salty smell in the air, the echo of the tide breaking on the rocks, even the overweight white lady in the green muumuu singing angelic Billie Holiday tunes made the place pretty extravagant.

This looked like just another first-class restaurant, but I knew better. This was a place of seduction, one big foreplay party for the sophisticated.

Claudio was holding a glass of chablis. “I wanna make a special toast. To seeing you again.”

“Thanks.”

He said, “Was smoked salmon and a salad all you wanted?”

“Yeah. I’m trying not to get fat.”

He laughed. “There you go with that weight thang again.”

He wolfed down the last of his fillet of sole meunière. I sipped my wine, then nodded. “The salmon was fine, Claudio.”

“You can have as much of anything you want. If they don’t have what you want, I’ll tell the driver to ride around until we find it.”

I glanced at my engagement ring. Yep, still had it on. Why, I do not know. I asked Claudio, “Where are you getting all of this money?”

“Comedy is hot. The King of Comedy tour made way into seven figures. If I can do a corner of that, hell, I’ll be set. You know how black people love to laugh.”

“How many more shows do you have out here?”

“One at the Comedy Emporium in Hollywood. Need to meet with Guy Torry, maybe Joe Torry too. I’ll leave you a couple of tickets at the door. Bring your tall friend. One of my homies wanna meet her.”

“I’ll let you know. Then what you doing after L.A?”

“Going to San Francisco and Oakland, doing a show at Geoffrey’s in the Bay, then hitting Seattle and Tacoma. That’ll take about a week.”

“Then what?”

“Back to N.Y. and do the same in the Village.”

“Sounds like you’re coming up.”

“That’s why you need to be with me. We could do this together, you know. Travel. Make some pocket change while we see the country.”

I said, “So, when are you going to pay me what you owe me?”

“You sound like a bill collector.”

“Is that a hard question to answer?”

“Don’t make tonight about that. Let’s roll back to my hotel.”

“And why would we do that?”

He smiled. “Kick it with me.”

“And?”

“I miss you like crazy.” His eyes pointed at my engagement ring. “We both know that should be my diamond on your finger.”

“When we were together and I brought the subject up, all I remember you saying was that marriage was a three-ring circus. Engagement ring, wedding ring, then suffering.”

“I said that?”

“Yes, you did.”

“I was a straight-up fool. Dee Dee, baby, I wish like hell that I could have you forever, keep you at my side as a king—”

“Oh, since you’re coming up, you’re a king nowadays.”

“That’s right. Got tired of being a field hand working for the man. And I’m a king who should have a smooth and elegant queen, like yourself, at my side so I can cherish her beauty and grace forever and a day.”

“Two snaps down. Where did you read that stupid mess?”

“I’m being serious over here.”

“You sound silly.”

“I’m serious. I’d love to get married. Start my own family. Should’ve married you five years ago. We could have two kids by now.”

“And I’d be as big as a horse.”

“But you’d be my horse.”

I didn’t respond, but I savored his verbal warmth.

“I’ve missed you so much, Dee Dee.”

“Stop, Claudio.”

“Tell me you haven’t missed me half as much as I’ve missed you.”

I sighed. “Can’t tell you that. You know that.”

He stroked my hand with his finger. Over and over he did that. “Let’s see if we can get back what we had.”

In the back of my mind I knew that Claudio would come back. Knew he would find me. They always come back on bended knee.

Again I stared out into the endless miles of calm waters.

Claudio said, “I’m serious.”

I blinked out of my trance and murmured, “What?”

“Your skin is the most beautiful thing on this planet. See, a real brother appreciates a sister that looks like a real black woman.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ve always had a thing for your skin, you know that, right? Dee Dee, your complexion is so smooth and perfect. You been using Ambi?”

“Cut the bull, all right?”

“I’m serious. I changed hotels, upgraded, got a boss suite at the Bonaventure, a high floor that looks over Los Angeles and’ll put us so close to the heavens you can snatch a feather off an angel’s wing.”

That time I laughed. “Angel wing or a Kentucky Fried Chicken wing?”

Vince had stared at me with disdain. Had shut me out. Claudio was staring at me with a wanting, absolutely no shame in his game. A hunger that the wine and candlelight dinner had weakened me for.

Vince had gone to see his daughter. To see his ex. Not that I had expected, but he hadn’t invited me. That pretty much solidified where we stood. Or where we didn’t stand. Would never stand again.

Right now I was as powerful as Atlas, the way Gerri looked when she was up on that pyramid-shaped stage, when men bowed like paupers at her feet and begged. Large and in charge. There was a victory in being face-to-face with Claudio, being able to see his regret for leaving me. His yearning told me that I was better than Tia. Another triumph.

Feelings I had for him were rising to the top. We were older, had grown. Maybe it could be different now. That second-time-around thing.

I let Claudio’s hand go, stared out at the Pacific Ocean.

New York was my home, ran through my blood like Broadway through Manhattan. L.A. was pretty, a paradise with one season, but this was the type of place a woman like me was supposed to visit. Maybe this had been my vacation, and now it was over.

He asked, “You okay?”

I took my lipstick out of my purse, saw the receipt for the package I had at Culver City Trophies. Cost almost a hundred dollars. One of the most important projects I’ve ever done.