The Mike Black Saga Volume 1

by Roy Glenn

  “Oh, I am so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” the counter attendant said.

  The woman stopped and laughed. “Well, maybe you should look where you’re going,” she said then continued her walk until her image faded.

  Travis yelled out to her, “That’s all right! I shouldn’t have been in his way.”

  Another night, Travis dreamed that he was in Los Angeles at the Bonaventure Hotel. He had been there many times before; in fact, it was one of his favorite places. In his dream, he was sitting alone having a drink at the Bona Vista Lounge, enjoying the view of the Los Angeles skyline, looking out at the Hollywood sign.

  He saw the woman coming toward him serving drinks. Travis got up to greet her. He walked up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. She was startled by his sudden appearance and spilled the drinks on her tray all over him. Security guards appeared next to Travis and held him. That time it was Travis who uttered the line, “Oh, I am so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  “No, I am so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” she said and tried to wipe him off, but before she could touch him, the security guards grabbed Travis and dragged him away as her image faded.

  It was the dream that he’d had the night before that brought him to the edge. In this dream, he found himself on the beach outside his timeshare in Freeport, breathing ocean air, watching the palm trees bending in the wind. Travis was standing waist deep in clear blue water looking back at the beach when he saw her walking by.

  Once again, she was draped in white silk scarves that flowed freely in the wind. Travis called to her and she stopped and waved him on. While Travis made his way through the water, he watched her call for the cabana boy, who responded quickly to her motion. She raised two fingers and the cabana boy rushed off and returned with two beach chairs. Travis made it to shore just as she sat down in one of the chairs and crossed her legs. “Join me?” she asked, motioning for Travis to sit in the chair next to her.

  It was at that moment that Travis realized that she was now naked except for a pair of dark sunglasses. Travis sat in the chair and started to talk to her, but it was as if she could not hear him. He became very excited and started to yell. She turned to him slowly and said, “Shhh. I can hear you, Travis.” With that, Travis became very calm, content to watch her glistening skin as beads of sweat formed all over her body.

  “Tell me, what’s your name?” Travis asked, but received no answer. He started to ask again when she turned to him slowly.

  “Shhh,” she said with a smile. “Just relax and enjoy me.”

  This seemed to satisfy him, but not for long. “Tell me, what’s your name?” he asked again.

  Once again she turned to him slowly. This time she leaned toward him. “Pleasure me, Travis,” she whispered in his ear and spread her legs.

  Travis stood up and stepped around to the front of her chair, then knelt down in the sand. He reached both hands forward and began to massage her thighs.

  “Pleasure me, Travis. Please don’t make me wait any longer. I’m here waiting for you. Pleasure me now.”

  Travis allowed his hands to move freely over her body. He very deliberately spread her lips with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand while making small circles around her clit with the tip of his right forefinger. All the time, he stared at her face. “You are so beautiful,” Travis said again and again.

  She reached out with both hands and grabbed his head. “Pleasure me, Travis,” she said to him again while slowly lowering his head, raising her legs at the same time. Travis held onto her hips, slid his tongue inside her and sucked her moist lips gently. He felt her body quiver as he licked her clit with the tip of his tongue. Her clit grew harder, her thighs pressed together as her body convulsed uncontrollably.

  When Travis opened his eyes from the dream, Mystique was lying next to him, gliding her hand up and down his ever-hardening erection. Mystique had become a regular feature at Travis’s house over the last week. He could expect a call from her at least once a day, either before she went to work or after she got off. Their conversations were always very brief and to the point.

  Travis would answer, “Hello.”

  “It’s me. Are you busy?” Mystique would ask.

  “No,” Travis would reply.

  “I’m coming over,” Mystique would then assert.

  “Come on.” And that was that.

  Once he was fully erect, Mystique straddled and began to ride Travis. He stared into her eyes the entire time, but his mind was on the woman from the store. He believed his latest dream meant that he would be able to find her and get with her.

  He looked up at Mystique and watched as she worked herself into a stuttering orgasm. You know, the type you have when your eyes roll back in your head. Travis had to laugh to himself thinking, here you are gettin’ sucked and fucked daily by a beautiful woman, but you’re fiending for some woman you’ve only seen once and never actually met. There is something seriously wrong with this picture. You should consider gettin’ some help for yourself.

  Once Mystique left his house and was on her way to work, Travis set in motion his plan to find the woman who had so captivated his mind and taken over his dreams. Once he was dressed, Travis got his surveillance equipment and left the house. He got in his black ’93 Thunderbird and drove back to the grocery store. His thinking was that if she lived or worked in the area, this would be the place where she shopped. And if that was indeed the case, he would simply have to wait; eventually she would show up.

  The thought had occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, she was just passing through and stopped in to do some shopping. However, he figured that possibility to be slim. In the brief seconds that he spent with her, if you could actually call it that, he did take note that the cart she rammed into him appeared to be pretty full. The contents looked more like that of a person who was doing her regular shopping, as opposed to someone who was just passing through the area and picking up a few things.

  He parked his car in an area of the lot where he would be able to see both entrances and exits to and from the store, as well as the entire parking lot. With the exception of using the bathroom and eating, Travis spent the entire day in his car watching the store. When he did need to use the bathroom, he went in the store and picked up something to eat at the same time. Before he left the store, Travis quickly checked every aisle. At the end of day one, he hadn’t seen her.

  Day two was no different from day one. Travis spent the day watching and waiting in vain. The pattern continued for the remainder of the week. He sat there all day and she didn’t show.

  When week two began, Travis took a whole new attitude. He began to pay attention to his surroundings. He took pictures of and made notes on all the people, employees and customers, who came and went on a regular basis. He noted the delivery days and times, who was the driver, and what he was delivering. He would take short drives around the neighborhood, checking streets and traffic flow.

  Travis started spending more time inside the store, getting a feel for the layout. He even knew the armored truck schedule, and then had developed a profile on the drivers. At first, he told himself that all these things were just to keep him busy, to keep his mind sharp for the next job.

  How else would a planner sharpen his planning skills? You practice planning.

  By the time Friday of week two had come and gone without the woman’s return, Travis had just about given up on her. But if Travis was nothing else, he was persistent. He decided to give it one more week.

  It was Saturday evening at 7:34 p.m. when his persistence paid off. A red 1999 Honda Civic pulled into the crowded lot and turned down the aisle where Travis had positioned himself. After two weeks of near misses, Travis wasn’t the least bit excited when yet another woman who fit the profile drove by his position.

  She parked her car almost directly in front of Travis and stepped out. She wore a black suit with a yellow blouse; she came around the car and
walked right by Travis. As she passed, it appeared that she looked directly at Travis and said, pleasure me. He knew he was trippin’, but he gave her a ten-second count before getting out of his car and going in after her.

  Travis entered the store, grabbed a shopping cart, and looked around. He spotted her in the produce aisle. He approached slowly, watching and waiting for what he considered the perfect opportunity to move on her. He began placing items in his shopping cart from whatever aisle she went down, to keep up appearances. In the last two weeks, he had bought enough stuff to last a month at his house, and then had begun to give the stuff he’d bought to Jackie and Ronnie.

  As she continued to shop, Travis kept her in sight, never allowing more than one aisle’s distance between them. When she stopped at the magazine aisle, Travis made his move. He approached and posted up next to her as she flipped through the latest copy of Essence. Travis picked up a copy of Black Enterprise and began to flip pages as well.

  “Excuse me,” Travis said. She turned to face him.

  “Yes?”

  All of a sudden, a cold chill ran through his body. Here he was, finally standing face to face with the woman he had been fiending for these last two weeks, and he couldn’t think of anything to say. He briefly considered the direct approach: Look, ever since you rammed your shopping cart into me two weeks ago, I’ve thought about nothing but you. Each time I close my eyes I see your face and I dream sweet dreams of you each night when I sleep. The sound of your voice echoes in my ears all the time. So please, tell me, what’s your name?

  Instead, he said, “I thought that was you.”

  “I beg your pardon?” she said, looking very curiously at Travis.

  “I guess you don’t remember me. I was the one that you accidentally ran into with your shopping cart a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Oh, was that you?” the woman asked, thinking that Travis was kind of cute. “I am so sorry. I guess I wasn’t looking where I was going,”

  “No, you were reading the label on a box of Special K,” Travis said. He laughed as he pointed to the box of Special K she had in her cart.

  “Yeah.” She laughed too. “I always read the nutrition facts on everything that I buy.”

  “Nutrition facts?” Travis asked.

  “You’ve never read the nutrition facts on the things you buy?”

  “I’m ashamed to say it, but no, I don’t,” Travis said and dropped his eyes in mock shame. Inside, he was glowing.

  “On the label of just about any kind of packaged food that you buy, there are nutrition facts,” she said. “It gives you information that you need to know about the foods that you eat.” She put her magazine back on the rack and reached into his shopping cart then stepped next to Travis. His heart began to pound.

  She pointed to the nutrition facts on the package of frozen corn on the cob. “Look at the label on that package. It tells you that this corn has only ninety calories and that five of those calories came from fat. There’s only one gram of total fat. It has no saturated fat or sodium. Now look at that box of mac and cheese. Look at both packages and compare the two.”

  “Two hundred and sixty calories and four hundred if I use margarine and two-percent milk,” Travis said.

  “And who doesn’t put margarine and milk in their mac and cheese?”

  “Nobody.”

  “Now check out the amount of sodium it has, and compare it to the corn,” she instructed.

  Travis did as he was told. At this point, he would have hopped on one leg and barked like a dog if she said she wanted to see it. “The corn has no sodium, and wow! This mac and cheese has seven hundred twenty milligrams. That’s a big difference.”

  “And it is so much more sodium than we black people, who are already prone to high blood pressure, need in our diets. So, we should really watch the amount of sodium in the foods we buy and the amount of salt we pour on it.”

  “But you know black people can’t live without mac-n-cheese,” Travis said playfully.

  “True that, true that.” She nodded in agreement and smiled. “’Cause I love it too. But we shouldn’t eat it all the time.”

  “Well, if that’s the case, half of what we call soul food ain’t all that healthy for us either.”

  “I know that’s right, ’cause when I go to my aunt’s house for Sunday dinner or on Thanksgiving and Christmas, there I am eating everything in sight, getting fat on my way back in the kitchen for a second plate. But I sure pay for it the next week.”

  “I don’t know. You look pretty healthy to me.”

  “I try to eat right, you know, get a little exercise. You look like you’re in pretty good shape,” she said, peering in his cart. “Most of what you have is pretty healthy. Plenty of fresh fruit and vegetables.”

  “Thank you,” Travis said, glad that he only picked up items in the aisles she went down. “By the way, my name is Travis. Travis Burns,” he said and extended his hand.

  “Me’shelle Lawrence,” she said, accepting his hand.

  “Well, Ms. Lawrence, it is truly a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “The pleasure is mutual, Mr. Burns,” Me’shelle said graciously.

  “And thank you for the nutrition lesson.”

  “Not a problem. Everybody needs to be educated on some things sometimes. It’s what I do.”

  “So, when you brutally attacked my ankle, what were you looking at?”

  “The dietary fiber contents,” Me’shelle said. “I always choose my cereal based on the amount of dietary fiber it has.”

  “Is that important?”

  “Very,” Me’shelle replied, thinking the reason why it was important was a little too much information for her to be giving for the purposes of that conversation.

  “I’ll have to watch that,” Travis said. “And thank you again. Listen, would you like to go out with me some time?”

  Me’shelle leaned back and looked Travis over. “I don’t know if that would be a good idea.”

  “Why? Are you married?”

  “No.”

  “Well then, I think it’s the least you could do after you attacked my ankle,” Travis said jokingly, but he was dead serious.

  “Travis—that’s your name, right? I usually don’t go out with guys that try to pick me up in the grocery store. So, I guess that you’ll just have to settle for a sincere apology.”

  “Well, if that’s all I can have, then I will just have to be happy with that.” Travis once again extended his hand. “It was truly a pleasure meeting and talking with you today, Ms. Lawrence. Hopefully we’ll meet again some time. In fact, I’m sure of it,” Travis said confidently.

  Me’shelle accepted his hand and looked at him curiously. “Nice meeting you too.” She was really starting to like Travis. I wasn’t expecting him to give up so easily, she thought as she watched Travis walk down the aisle heading toward the checkout lanes.

  For Travis, it was a totally successful first encounter. He came away knowing her name. Me’shelle Lawrence. The words seemed to float from her lips to his ears. He knew what kind of car she drove. He knew that she was health conscious, and he now knew that she was quite intelligent.

  Travis paid for his items and headed for his car, knowing that he would see her again. He made a note of her license plate number and drove off.

  Chapter Seven

  On Sunday morning, Me’shelle got in her car and headed to her aunt Miranda’s house in Queens for Sunday dinner. As she drove across the Whitestone Bridge, she glanced out her window at the water. She loved the water; it was so peaceful and allowed her to clear her mind and think. Of course, driving across a bridge may not be the best time to look at and enjoy the water, but it is what it is. Her dilemma that morning was her older brother, Bruce. How should she handle him, and what, if anything, could she do to get her niece, Brandy, out of that situation?

  Like so many others, Bruce had lost his job. To make ends meet he began to sell cocaine for some character who called himself C
hilly. Nothing major; he could flip a few grams, maybe an ounce here and there if he already had a buyer. But then he would step on it so hard that they didn’t come back. You see, Bruce and his wife Natalie were big-time smokers, and having product around just made it worse because they would always smoke themselves into a hole. A hole that they continuously asked Me’shelle to dig them out of.

  The night before Bruce had come to her for help. It wasn’t that they owed anybody money. That would come later. They had smoked all they had and needed money for more.

  The calls began a little after two o'clock in the morning. She knew it was Bruce, and she knew what he wanted, so she didn’t answer the phone. But the calls continued about every ten minutes until Me’shelle unplugged her phone at three in the morning. By the time she had drifted off to sleep, it was after four. That sleep was interrupted by a loud banging at her door accompanied by, “Me’shelle!” Bruce yelled at the top of his lungs as he continued to bang on the door. “Open the door, Me’shelle! I know you’re in there!”

  Me’shelle jumped out of bed and ran to the door. She had to shut him up because the last time he pulled a stunt like this, her landlord, Mrs. B., told her if it happened again, lease or no lease, she was putting her out. She swung the door open, snatched Bruce by his shirt and dragged him into the apartment.

  “Are you crazy, Bruce? What are you doing knocking on my door like a crazy fool at four in the morning?”

  “You wouldn’t answer your phone.”

  “Did you ever think that I wasn’t home or had company and didn’t want to be bothered?”

  “Nope. Since that blockhead Trent dropped you, you never go anywhere,” Bruce said, looking around Me’shelle’s apartment.

  “He didn’t drop me. We agreed that we should see other people,” Me’shelle said, knowing Trent had dropped her.

  “Whatever, Me’shelle. That’s just some shit a muthafucka like him would say when he dropped your ass,” Bruce cracked.

  “Anyway, I still could’ve had a date.”