Chapter 30
ASHA
I
got to work one morning and was surprised to find a Post-It note on my computer screen that said I should call Nick Seabrook right away.
I put my coat on the hook in the back of my office door and buzzed my assistant. “Kevin, could you come here for a moment?”
My short, red-haired assistant came in with a notepad in his hands. He is the most inefficient member of the buying office support staff, and the only reason I don't fire him is because he has a B.A. from Harvard and an M.A. from Yale. It gives me a certain amount of pleasure that someone with so much education has to take orders from me.
“Good morning, Kevin. This morning is going to be hectic so call Nick Seabrook back and tell him to try me at home tonight. Then reschedule my appointment with Lew Weimann from Zippy Girl handbags. After that, you can start letting the sales reps in.”
I booted up my computer and started responding to some e-mails and was totally engrossed in the task when Kevin buzzed.
“Asha, Nick is on the phone” he said.
“Kevin, I told you that I can't talk to him now.”
I answered another e-mail before he rang again. “Mr. Seabrook insists that you talk to him now. He says it will only take a minute.”
“Yeah, all right put him through.”
I waited for Nick's high-pitched voice to say hello but all I heard was Biggie Smalls's song “Hypnotize” blasting from his car radio.
When did Nick start listening to rap music?
“Hello?”
“Hey, girl!”
“What's up, Nick, how are you?”
“Chillin', chillin', wassup wit you?”
“Why are you speaking that way?”
“What are you doing right now?”
“Since I don't have two rich parents like you do, I'm working for a living.”
“No, but you have a rich boyfriend.”
Boyfriend? Both Nick and I were aware that we both dated other people. In fact, he had some lovelorn chick down in Houston. Boyfriend? For some reason, I liked the sound. Maybe because it was coming from him and not some other guy.
“True, you are pretty rich, Mr. Seabrook.”
“Aiiight.”
“Nick, that fake gangsta thug dialect sounds ridiculous. What are you up to?”
“I'm mentoring this teenaged brother down in Houston. It's a program for young males at risk. This is the way he communicates with me. So I'm practicing.”
“Well, cut it out for right now.”
“Asha, baby! Loosen up.”
“I don't want to hear that kind of talk. Besides, isn't the point of him getting together with you to learn how to speak proper English?”
“No. That isn't the point at all. Now, I need your cooperation, Miss Mitchell. I'm in the middle of a twenty-four hour experiment and I have twelve hours to go.”
“You're going to talk like that for the next twelve hours?” Nick was such a spoiled rich brat. Only someone with a huge trust fund could afford to speak like a thug just for the fun of it.
“Then I feel sorry for Baby Girl.”
Baby Girl was the nickname of his Houston babe.
“You're going to regret that statement in half a second.”
“Nick, I'm pretty busy. What do you have to tell me that couldn't wait until tonight?”
“Well, Ms. Thang, I was callin' to tell you that you will be blessed with my company soon.”
I tried to contain my excitement. “Last I heard, you were staying in Houston for another month.”
“Plans change, girl. I'm home. How about I hang out at your apartment till you get there?”
“Why?”
“Because my place is in an uproar. I'm having a wall taken out to make the living room bigger.”
“Yeah, all right, I'll leave my keys with Kevin but make sure you don't throw no gangsta parties while I'm at work.”
“Whatever. And tell that bitch-ass secretary of yours he betta know how to talk to me. I'm about two minutes off whoopin' his carrot-top lookin' ass.”
I decided to play along and talk like a round-the-way girl. Hmm, maybe we could do some kind of rap role play before hitting the sheets tonight. “Kevin looks like he might bust a cap in yo' ass.”
“I'm too rich to fight. I'll just pay another muthafucka to argue for me.”
He hadn't been on the phone five minutes and I was already in stitches. “You are so crazy, Nick. I'll catch you later.”
“There better be more than bologna and cheese in that muthafuckin' kitchen.”
God he sounded stupid but I couldn't suppress a giggle. No one can ever say that Nick is dull.
“You know I don't cook. Why didn't you bring some food from your mama's restaurant?”
“You know I don't eat no soul food. That's all they fed me growin' up.”
“All right; we'll go get something different tonight when I get in.”
“Cool, just make sure you get home on time.”
“Yes, dear.”
“Hey, Asha . . .”
“Yeah?”
“I missed you, girl.”
“All right, Nick. I'll see you tonight.”
Â
I could hear the rap music blasting from my apartment. The bass line was so strong I could feel it vibrating in my chest. As soon as I walked through the door I found Nick dancing in the center of the living room in some funny-looking boxers with smiley faces on it. As angry as I was about the volume of the music, the image of him doing the Harlem shake half naked was hilarious.
“Nick!” I screamed.
He turned around and flashed that cute smile of his and turned the music down.
“Hey! I was just working off a big Whopper with cheese from Burger King. You look sooo good, girl; come here.”
I put down my bag and hugged him. His arms felt strong. “You been working out.”
Nick stood back and started flexing. “A little somethin' but you know I've always been buff.”
I laughed because I once saw some pictures of Nick as a young teen. He used to be kind of puny. “Yeah, Bootney Farnsworth.”
As I took off my coat I noticed Nick sitting with his legs unusually far apart.
“What are you doing?” He had a big grin on his face as he began thrusting his pelvis into the air.
“You're joking, right? I just got in the house.”
“Come on, Asha, I haven't had sex since I last saw you and I'm in the mood.”
I laughed at him as he winded his hips seductively and patted the space next to him. “You a damn liar. What happened to Baby Girl?”
His face contorted in disgust. “Baby Girl?”
“Yes, Nick, the one you said you were going to marry.”
“Asha, you like two sevens stuck together.”
I crossed my arms and waited for the payoff. “What does that mean, Nick?”
“It means that you are a square! I ain't say nuthin' to you about marryin Baby Girl.”
“But you told me she was so fine you were gonna make her your wife.”
His eyes roamed over my face and his tone became serious. “I wanted to gauge your reaction, sweetheart.”
I sensed that Nick was waiting for me to say some specific thing, but since I didn't know what it was, I kept my mouth shut.
He switched back to gangsta-thug talk. “Besides, I probably said wifey not wife.”
“What is a wifey?”
“A wifey is just a girlfriend you like a lot and you don't want her to go out there fuckin' around, so you give her a title and she sticks around forever and ever.”
“What about getting engaged until you figure things out?”
Nick's already big eyes popped out of his head further. “Oh, no, no, no! You crazy! A wifey don't get no ring, girl!”
“Is that true, Nick? Is that what this kid says?”
“Yup.”
“Wait; so let me get this straight. So basically a “wifey” is an insurance policy for a brother who has no intention of actually making any real commitment to his girlfriend but has decided he doesn't want her messing around with other people while he does whatever he wants? What kind of sorry-ass woman would agree to an arrangement like that?”
Nick thought about it a few seconds. “The kind that's in love.”
I laughed hysterically at the creativity of my brethren. “How old is Baby Girl?”
“She about our age.”
“And you told her she was your wifey?”
“Yup.”
I was starting to wonder what was real and what was Nick fooling around. “There is no way any female over the age of sixteen would listen to some wifey bullshit. Are you fooling around with young girls?”
“Aw, come on, now, you trippin'. I don't mess wit no little girls. I ain't R. Kelly.”
“Where is this woman really from, Nick?” I could barely breathe from laughing so hard.
“She's really from Houston but it's a real poor part of town.”
“Figures that some ghetto broad would go for that bullshit. Or maybe that Texas sun has cooked her brain. Why are you scrapin' from the bottom of the barrel, Nick? Are you afraid to settle down with a nice, smart woman?”
“No, but you won't marry me and those chickenheads don't take a lot of work!”
“Stop it, Nick.”
He grinned a foolish thug grin. “You right, girl. All this serious talk is makin' my head hurt. Come over here and let me lay it down!”
“Not on my nice leather sofa we're not.”
I got up and lay in his lap. I felt his erection growing.
“I want you right here on your Seaman's couch,” he said.
I play-smacked him. “Nothing from Seaman's furniture store would ever be allowed in here.”
“Well, let's do sumthin' before I bust a hole in your skull wit my pee pee.”
He had to wait until I showered and freshened up.
It took me twenty minutes to cut my pubic hair into a cute little heart shape. By the time I had shaved, washed, and oiled, Nick had practically given up hope.
He took one look at me and the gangsta flew out the window. He was Nick Seabrookâjazz afficionado and lover extraordinaireâonce more.
“Wow, you look sooo sexy,” he said, grabbing me around my waist.
I could tell he appreciated the silky feel of my copper chemise as his hands slid over my curves. “Asha, you smell wonderful.”
We locked lips and then he took my hand and led me to the bedroom.
It was something about the way he led me into the bedroom that made me feel like one hundred percent woman, like some sensuous mythical creature.
Nick slipped the thin straps of my gown off my shoulders and asked me to simply stand in front of him so he could appreciate what he saw. It was awkward at first, especially since he was still in his boxers, but when I saw the twinkle of genuine admiration in his eyes I no longer minded. He started to slide out of his boxers in front of me, seductively, in a way that only Nick could do it without the act coming across soft or gay.
“Let me pull down your boxers,” I said.
He smiled and nodded as I slid them down to the floor. His penis jumped excitedly. “Lie down,” he said.
I climbed on the bed and lay on my back. I was shocked when Nick began sucking and licking my toes as he massaged my calves. He took time with every inch of my body, rubbing, petting, and stroking me into oblivion. I was surprised that he performed oral sex but he did and it was fantastic. He hadn't even entered me yet and I had two orgasms; but nothing prepared me for the actual intercourse. Nick seemed to hit all the right areas as he prodded my inner walls. It felt so good I just didn't want to stop grinding down on him.
“Oh, my God!” I yelled as he kept thrusting into me.
“You just had a G-spot orgasm, that's all,” he said matter-of-factly.
I flopped back on the bed satiated like I had never been before.
I wasn't surprised that Nick fell asleep since he had driven all the way from Houston.
I took a shower, moistened my eyes with Visine and lay down on the sofa to catch up on my reading. It's been a long time since I had a quiet Friday night. Just when my book started getting interesting the doorman called to say my sister was on her way up.