The Donor: When Conception Meets Deception (17 page)

Jenae stiff arms the phone to Chase's face. Chase is dumbfounded and speechless.

"Take the damn phone Chase," she says. ”I'm going in the shower."

Jenae hops off of the bed and stomps into the bathroom. She closes the door behind her. Chase hears the
squeak, squeak
of the hot and cold faucets and then the steady spray from the shower head.

“Argh,” Chase yells.

Chase? Chase?
A tinny voice squeaks from the earpiece.

“What,” he barks into the receiver.

"Don't
what
me? I've been calling and texting you for hours,” the voice says.

“Andrea? Yeah, I know you’ve been calling. My fiancée has made that quite clear."

"Don't get mad at me because you can't handle your chick."

“Andrea, Jenae is pissed. Why are you blowing up my phone anyway?”

“Yeah, well I wouldn’t have to, if you would’ve just returned my texts,” she says.

Chase cradles the mouthpiece and hunches next to the window.

“Andrea, I can’t just jump every time you text me or call me.”

“Look this isn’t about me. It’s about your Eugene business. If that’s not important to you fine.”

“Yes it’s important but—“

“Good. Now listen. We have some stuff to go over. You’ve got another date tonight at my place.”

His voice lowers to a hush…“Don’t call it a date.”

“It is what it is. Now listen. We need to go over this so you don't muck it up like you did last time."

“Like
I
did? Look I don’t even
want
to do this.”

“Look Chase. I’ll give you a trick from when I took theater as an undergrad. What you’ve got to do is get out of your head. Forget about school, Devantay, and especially forget about Jenae. You’ve got to become someone else. Like a character. Don’t even think of yourself as Chase. Think of yourself as…I don’t know…Bob.”

“Bob? Who the hell is Bob?”

“Dude work with me here. Call your character by whatever name you want. But in order to make this work you have to find something that’s true to
you,
Chase. Then you can use that truth to become Bob. That was your problem with the last chick. You didn’t try to find something you actually
liked
about her, all you could think about was what you
disliked
.”

“Right. Because there was just
sooo
much to like about Miss
From Russia With Love
.”

“Focus, Chase. Find something that Chase finds attractive about her and then transfer that to Bob. And become Bob. This way, Bob does all the lovey dovey stuff that Chase is too afraid to do.”

“That makes absolutely no sense Andrea. You’re basically telling me to find the truth in a lie?”

“Welcome to Acting 101.”

Chase puts the phone against his hip and clenches it. He glances over his shoulder at the bathroom door. The shower continues to stream. He brings the phone to his ear.

“Fine Andrea. Fine. Whatever. I’ll see you tonight.”

He slams the phone in the charging cradle and grabs his terry cloth robe from the closet door. He walks to the master bath and reaches for the door knob. Steam sifts through the crevice of the slightly open door into the bedroom. He hesitates to go inside. Chase knows he needs to smooth things over with Jenae.
But will words be enough?…No…I’ll have to do better. Breakfast. I’ll make her that breakfast we had at the cabin in Vermont. Sweet apple crepes with homemade vanilla whipped cream, eggs Benedict and her favorite matcha green tea.

He tightens the robe around his waist and bounds downstairs with a proud smile. As he reaches the bottom floor and enters the kitchen, the shower shuts off. The bathroom door creaks all the way open. Chase hadn’t taken notice that it was never completely closed to begin with. Jenae steps out and back into the bedroom. Her amber skin and sable curls should be glistening with moisture. But she is as dry as a parched tongue and her hair is pillow fresh. Not a shower bead anywhere on her body. It is only her eyes that have teared.



The white moon illuminates the dark sky like an evening sun. An old hip-hop song says that this is when the freaks come out. But Andrea’s Brooklyn street is deserted. No freaky deekies. Only a black Cadillac idling for a fare and the bearded Chasidics walking home on the sabbath. In the chill of the night, even life in Gotham’s most populous borough, slows to a silence.

His wood bottomed soles scrape against the graveled cement as he treks from the subway to the loft. It is the most calm he has felt all day. Jenae was quiet at breakfast. Standoffish in fact. One word responses to his attempts at conversation. French style pancakes and warm apples did not impress her. And Chase did find it odd, that after twenty minutes of her giving him monosyllabic answers, she would all of a sudden fire a question his way:

“
Hey, why don’t we catch a movie tonight?”
she said.

“Oh, I’m sorry babe. I have to stop at the group home for a mentor’s meeting and then link up with Tanaka. He has a DJ gig in the Hamptons tonight. His assistant bailed on him at the last minute so I gotta help my boy, right?”

As Chase continued to embellish this lie, Jenae reached over the breakfast table and pressed two fingers on his lips silencing him.

“
It's okay Chase…don’t worry about it,”
she said.

And she walked upstairs. Perhaps out of preoccupation with Eugene, or just being clueless, he shrugged off her comment. But when a woman says,
It’s okay,
and then walks away?…it rarely is.

Chase reaches the building’s entrance and presses Andrea’s buzzer. No response. He presses again. Still no response. Twice more before he finally texts her. Sixty seconds later…
BUZZZZZZ
CUH-CLICK.
The door unlocks and Chase trots through the lobby and into the waiting elevator. As the lift creaks towards the third floor, the pulsating drone of a nightclub beat grows louder. At the music’s loudest, the elevator jolts to a stop at Andrea’s floor. Chase scrunches his face as if he just got a whiff of raw sewage.
Why is she blasting techno?
She hates techno. Oh no…please don’t let this be another nut job
. Chase lifts the gate and walks out to Andrea’s apartment door. It is already slightly ajar. He pushes the handle and swings the door open. He winces from a sudden thrush of musical wind. Bopping and twirling to the beat in the middle of the living room is the tall, carrot topped Andrea.

"Well come in already," she says.

"Huh?" Chase says pointing to his ears.

“Come," she yells over the music and pulls him inside.

Andrea dangles a half-filled glass of chardonnay and continues to shimmy to the beat. Feeling saucy, she wedges her body up against Chase and spoons her hips on his waist like the plastic stirrer in a mocha latte.

“Okay, okay settle down,” he says with a soft push. "I see someone started to turn up already."

"Don't be silly. You know I don't get drunk…
much
. We’re just getting to know each other over a little joy juice," Andrea says with a twirl and lick of her lips.

"We?" Chase says.

Andrea points toward a young woman leaning her elbow on the bookcase,
thumbing
the pages of
The Fire Next Time
. She’s in a pair of snug black jeans, vintage Air Jordans, and a cleavage blaring red tee. She’s short but not teeny-tiny. She stands shoulder high to Chase and that’s with a Pam Grier afro puff. Her colossal bouquet of hair is pushed back from her face with a Trinidadian flag headband. It reveals her flawless, roasted chestnut complexion and a twinkling, cheery smile. She’s also quite
cheeky
. Both in her round face with dimples begging to be pinched, and in her pinch worthy posterior. Her jeans shrink-wrap her muscular thighs and pronounced calves. Andrea turns the music down and crosses in front of Chase. She drunk whispers,
Dayuum
in Chase’s ear and winks at the woman’s body.

“Hi, Chase," the woman waves with a bold smile.

She cheeses so hard, it is as if her smile should be followed by a starburst and a
PING
.

"Hello, umm I’m sorry…you are?” Chase says.

“Oh, I'm Evelyn."

She marches over to Chase, full arm extended, and shakes his hand with a firm grip.

"Hi Evelyn, it’s a pleasure to meet you. By the way that’s a great handshake,” Chase says.

"You can thank Dad for that. Ahem, ahem…
People form an impression of you in the first fifteen seconds of meeting you, young lady. So make sure your handshake says that you're a woman who’s about her bi’ness
,” Evelyn says mimicking the deep gruff of a man’s voice.

“Her bi’ness?” Chase laughs. “Is that how he really spoke?”

“Oh yes he did. He said
bi’ness
not business. My Dad can be…well…let’s just say he can be…
extra
,” Evelyn says.

Chase flashes a warm smile with a chuckle.

“Yeah. I have a best friend that’s like that,” Chase says.

Andrea leers at the two of them, circles the wine in her glass, and slow sips the sweet liqueur.

Evelyn is a fireball. She has a big personality for a petite woman. Physically alluring yes, but her outgoing, friendly nature attracts Chase even more which Chase also finds disturbing. He feels like the married man eyeing the hot chick at the end of the bar, and twirling his wedding band.

"Drink?" Andrea pokes a bottle of ginger beer in Chase’s face. He grabs the wet, frigid bottle and wipes the cold dampness from his palm on his pant leg.

"No wine for you Chase?" Evelyn says.

"No, Chase can be a bit of a party pooper sometimes. He likes his non-alcoholic brew. The closest thing he usually gets to alcohol is that ginger beer he's holding. He'll massage that thing all night," Andrea says.

“Well, I certainly hope that won’t be the only thing he massages," Evelyn says with a sneer towards Andrea.

Chase raises his eyebrow. Andrea winks and stumbles over to Chase’s ear.

“Mmm look at that juicy rack. I bet Bob would like to massage those lovely jubblies,” she slobbers.

“Shush. Stop acting ignorant. You’re drunk Andrea,” he scowls back.

Evelyn strolls back to the bookcase, grabs her wine glass and sits crosslegged on the couch. Chase stands next to Andrea. Andrea elbows his stomach.

“Ouch!”

“Go sit next to her, stupid,” Andrea says in a loud whisper.

“Evelyn, I’ll be right back sweetie. I've got something in the kitchen for you two," Andrea says and walks out.

Chase takes a swig of his ginger brew and sits in the chair opposite Evelyn.

Well, at least she didn't jump out from underneath the furniture like the last cray cray. So far so good.

"What are you smiling about?" Evelyn says.

"Smiling? Oh nothing, just you know, um, uh, life…sorta…you know.”

“Relax Chase. I’m just making conversation,” she says.

Chase
glug-glug-glugs
a throat full of cool ginger beer. He hopes the spicy root punch will punt his nervousness away. Evelyn’s lips curl with a glistening smoothness. She slides to the left of the sofa and pats the seat to her right, twice. No movement. She taps two more times.

“Oh, of course. Silly me, right? Duh, right? Why am I sitting
all
the way over here right? I mean we’re supposed to be getting to know each other and here I am sitting across from you and—” Chase notices Evelyn’s polite grin tolerating his rambling. He stops talking and pops over next to her.

“So, you’re a college professor huh?” Evelyn says.

“Yes. I teach English at Brooklyn Uni—“

“No, no,” Evelyn places her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t tell me. It helps if we don’t know
too
many specifics about each other. I mean I’m not a cuckoo bird but you never know with
some
people.”

“Ain’t that the truth. So what about yourself? What do you do?” Chase says.

“I’m a personal trainer and just turned IFBB fitness pro.”

Chase’s eyes light up.

“Wow. Really? That’s serious. You have to be in top shape for that. We have that in common. Oh I didn’t mean to sound so immodest. I’m not a pro but I’m into fitness as well.”

“Yeah I can tell you lift. You see how I haven’t moved my hand from your tricep yet,” she says with a sharp squeeze.

“Well, it’s obvious you’re taking very good care of your body too. And you have a great energy,” Chase says.

“Oh so you’ve been checking me out huh?”

“Well…I mean…not
checking
checking—“

Evelyn laughs.

“Your shyness is cute. And sexy. So tell me about your workout. I can see that you’re doing all the right things,” she says.

She slides her hand down Chase's forearm. He doesn’t flinch. The glide of another woman’s touch on his lotioned skin is a strange yet comfortable feeling.
Maybe this is what Andrea meant. Find something I like
.

“What are you thinking?” Evelyn says screwing a one eyed look at him.