Can't Get Enough

by Connie Briscoe

  “I was describing Beacon Hill to her,” Noah said.

  “We have another client who is looking at Beacon Hill,” Barbara said, thinking of Bernice. “The homes there are custom-built but smaller than what you may be used to, Veronique.”

  “I’m looking for something smaller than this,” Veronique said, waving her arm about. “Something that can be managed with one or two servants when I want to get away but not have to travel too far.”

  “Great Falls is another area,” Noah said.

  “Yes,” Barbara said. “It has some beautiful views of the Potomac River. Noah knows both areas very well.”

  Veronique nodded and glanced at her watch. “I’m sure we’ll work something out.” She stood and Noah immediately rose from his seat. “But now, if you’ll both excuse me for a moment, I need to make an overseas call, and as soon as I’m done we’ll go in and have lunch. We can talk more then.”

  When Veronique was sure that Noah couldn’t see her face, she gave Barbara a big private wink and slipped out of the room.

  Noah sat back down beside Barbara. “She’s a fascinating woman.”

  “Yes, she is,” Barbara said as she brushed away an imaginary piece of lint from her slacks.

  He swung one foot up over his knee and they sat silently. Now what the hell was supposed to happen? What had she gotten herself into? She used to feel so comfortable around Noah, and they were never at a loss for words. But things felt so different lately.

  “Um, how was your weekend?” he finally asked.

  “Good,” she said. Bradford was out of town so there had been no arguments about other women and that was a good weekend, she thought. “And yours? Another party?”

  “Yeah, I partied all weekend.”

  Of course, Barbara thought. He was young and attractive.

  “Not really,” he said. “I was kidding. I went out for a drink Saturday night with a couple of dudes from my neighborhood. On Sunday, I went by Blockbuster and rented a video, came home and popped in a microwave dinner. Pasta with shrimp if I remember correctly. They all begin to taste the same after a while. Pretty exciting, huh?”

  Barbara laughed. It sounded better than what her evenings were generally like, she thought. Eat dinner with cheating husband when he was home. Eat alone when he wasn’t. Argue with cheating husband.

  “Sounds to me like you need a good home-cooked meal.” Barbara’s heart skipped a beat. That sounded so flirtatious, she was surprised by how easily it rolled out. She had definitely extended a line to Noah. What if he didn’t bite? She shut her eyes tightly and listened.

  “You offering?”

  She opened her eyes. Now was the time to back out before she got in too deep for her own good. Go back to sanity, Barbara. Go back to your dull life. Or . . .

  “I’d love to fix you a nice home-cooked meal if you’re up for it. I make a mean meat loaf.” Or she used to when she and Bradford were first married. She wondered if she still remembered how to make it.

  “I’m more than up for it.”

  She smiled with relief. Then she panicked and her heart began to flutter. What had she just gotten herself into?

  “When’s a good time for you?” he asked.

  “Um, when is good for you?”

  “How about Friday evening? Day after tomorrow. My place after work?”

  “I’ll be there.” Had she just made a date with a man? A part of her wanted to jump up and run screaming out of the room to the security of her home. She and Noah were starting to engage in an elaborate dance, and their relationship had just taken a sharp turn.

  AS BARBARA SEARCHED for a parking space in front of Noah’s house near the corner of Fourteenth and U Streets in D.C., she drove past storefront galleries, bookstores, and small coffee shops. The crowded and colorful blocks reminded her how far she had stepped out of her comfort zone. All her close friends lived in big houses, most on large estates in Maryland, and Barbara couldn’t remember the last time she had visited someone in the city or someone who rented her home.

  This area of town was undergoing a revival, and the air was a lot more funky and congested than what she was used to. Blacks and whites wore their hair in locks and gay couples strolled hand in hand. The suburbs were bland in comparison, with mile after mile of driveways and manicured lawns. She always felt so alive when she came down here, and couldn’t think why she didn’t get into town more often.

  She freshened her lipstick in the mirror above the steering wheel and popped a breath mint into her mouth. Noah hated her smoking almost as much as her daughters did, and she didn’t want him to smell on her breath the cigarette she had just stubbed out.

  She walked the block to his row house and climbed the short flight of stairs. Just before ringing the bell, she glanced up and down the block, although she wasn’t sure why. She certainly didn’t have to worry about running into anyone she knew in this part of town.

  She tightened the sash at the waistline of her blue denim skirt, raised her hand and knocked softly. Then she closed her eyes and ordered the jitters in her stomach to settle down. She was just beginning to relax a little when Noah opened the door, and in an instant the jitters bounced from her stomach to her throat.

  Noah took both of Barbara’s hands, led her into the house, and leaned down to kiss her on the mouth. She quickly turned and gave him her cheek. He was going to have to slow down. Yes, it was obvious why she had come, but she was out of practice. She needed to ease in slowly.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” he said as he shut the door behind her. He looked fresh and relaxed in neatly pressed black jeans and a champagne pullover.

  “Neither can I.” She looked around. Anything to avoid his eyes.

  “Nice place you have here, Noah. Not at all what I expected.”

  The furnishings were modern and in good taste. In the living room sat a gray leather couch and plush black armchairs. Brightly colored suede pillows were strewn about the furniture and on the floor. Two end tables were adorned with sleek metal lamps, and a huge, brightly colored abstract painting hung above the fireplace.

  On one wall was a built-in shelf where he kept the television, CD player, and piles of CDs. Jazz played softly in the background, and Barbara suspected that the music had been selected for her. The one time she had ridden in Noah’s car with him, a rap song blasted from the radio when he started the engine.

  “What were you expecting?” he asked. “More of a junky bachelor pad? Loud hip-hop music?”

  She laughed. “Probably. Did you furnish it yourself?”

  He nodded. “My ex-wife was a decorator, so I learned a thing or two from her. The only things I haven’t gotten around to doing are something for the windows, and I need some kind of rug in here. But between teaching school and selling real estate, I’m always working.”

  “I don’t see how you do it all. But you have very nice taste.”

  “Thanks. I really like the area and I’m hoping to buy this house with the money I make selling real estate. The owner wants to put it on the market now, but I persuaded her to give me a few more months to come up with the down payment.”

  “What percentage are you planning to put down?”

  “I need to put down twenty percent to be able to handle the mortgage. That’s another reason I’m not spending any more money decorating right now. Every free dime I get goes toward that down payment. I hope the commission on the Wright house will come through for us soon.”

  Barbara didn’t ask, but she figured this house would probably sell in about the half-million-dollar range given the up-and-coming neighborhood. That meant he needed $100,000 for the down payment, a lot on a teacher’s salary. Now she understood why he worked so many hours selling real estate on the side and why he put up with Bernice’s constant flirting. She’d had no idea that Noah was depending on the commission from the Wright sale to stay in his home.

  “What will you do if the deal doesn’t go through?”

  He shook his head. �
��I’ll have to move. It’s as simple as that. I sell a lot of houses but most of them are under half a million, way under half a million. I’d have to sell five or six more of them to get what I’d get on the Wright house. But I’m not worried. We will sell a house to the Wrights.”

  She smiled. She liked his positive attitude. And if they sold a house to the Wrights, she was going to let Noah keep the entire commission. He obviously needed the money more than she did. If she knew Noah at all, he would object to such an arrangement. So she would wait until they made a deal with the Wrights and then refuse to accept any part of the commission.

  “Can I get you something to drink, Barbara? Soda or water, right, since you don’t drink liquor?”

  “You’re right, I don’t drink alcohol. Soda will be fine.”

  “Neither do I really. I just keep a bottle of wine handy for company. Ginger ale okay?”

  “That would be nice.”

  He waved her into the kitchen. “Come on back with me.”

  “Did you get the things for dinner?” she asked as she followed him. “I should get started on that meat loaf I promised you.”

  “What you should do is relax, Barbara. Dinner is taken care of. I’ll explain in a minute.”

  Barbara frowned as he removed two chilled mugs filled with ice cubes from the freezer and filled them with ginger ale. He handed one mug to her and shooed her back into the living room.

  “I’m waiting,” Barbara said as she took a sip.

  “Let’s sit down first.” He picked up two animal-print pillows from a corner of the room and tossed them down in front of the fireplace. “Will this be okay?”

  Barbara looked down at the pillows and smiled. She hadn’t sat on the floor in ages, probably since Robin and Rebecca were toddlers. But what the heck. She was so far out of her comfort zone now, it didn’t matter. “This is fine,” she said. She pulled off her shoes and they both sat down.

  “Okay,” he said once they had settled across from each other on the floor. “About dinner. I got to thinking after we talked at Veronique’s and decided that I didn’t want you slaving away in my kitchen the first time you came to visit me. I mean, it was very nice of you to offer but . . .”

  “I don’t mind, really.”

  “I know and I appreciate it.” He touched her knee lightly and briefly startled Barbara. Goodness, she thought. If she was going to get all worked up about him touching her on the knee, what was going to happen if he tried to kiss her full on the lips again? She’d faint at this rate.

  “I went ahead and picked up meat loaf from Boston Market instead,” he continued. “Is that okay? It’s pretty good stuff, to me at least. But what do I know. My usual is microwave dinners.”

  “I doubt it’s as good as my meat loaf, but it should be fine.”

  “You can cook next time,” he said.

  Barbara cleared her throat. Next time? Just let me get through this first visit without passing out, she thought. She was sitting on the floor in a young single man’s apartment and drinking soda with no idea what would happen next. That she had made it this far was a miracle.

  “There’s that look again,” Noah said.

  She blinked. “What look?”

  “That faraway look. The one that got me in trouble before.”

  “Oh, right.” She looked away.

  “Relax,” he said. “No worries when you’re here, okay?”

  No worries? That was easy for him to say since he wasn’t married. And it had been so long since she had been in a romantic situation with a man other than Bradford. Actually, it had been ages since she’d been in a romantic situation with Bradford.

  In a way she envied Noah. He was young and free, with only himself to think about—no spouse, no children. When he was attracted to someone he could just go for it without worrying about all the consequences because there were none, except maybe getting your feelings hurt.

  Still, she hadn’t expected to be so nervous with Noah. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to grab some of that youth and freedom. Instead, she took a sip of her soda. “It’s all good,” she said, using an expression that she’d heard Noah use before.

  “Here, let me help you relax.” He placed his mug on the floor, got up on his knees, and scrambled behind her. He planted his hands firmly on her shoulders and began to massage them slowly.

  “How’s that?” he asked.

  She closed her eyes. “Mmm. Good.”

  He rubbed her shoulders and back for about ten minutes, and they began to feel like jelly under his touch. He looked at her and smiled. “You certainly look a lot more relaxed.”

  “I feel like a new woman,” she said, and meant it.

  “That’s what I like to hear. So, ready for the big tour now?”

  So much for relaxing. She wondered how many women he had given this so-called tour and exactly what it included, but she pushed all those thoughts out of her head. Enjoy the moment, girl. It didn’t matter how many other women he’d given it to. She was here now. “I’d like that.”

  He stood up and extended his hand to help her up. “Well, this here is the living room,” he announced with a wave of his arm.

  She laughed. “Lovely.”

  “And that there is the fireplace. And here, we have the TV, and . . .”

  He took her hand and led her around the room, briefly describing the things in it. She found his descriptions of the people in the photographs around the room particularly interesting. Noah had told her that he was born in Florida and that he had moved to the D.C. area to attend Howard University and stayed. She also knew that his parents had divorced when he was only four years old and his older sister, Debbie, was fourteen. But she knew little else about him, since their conversations usually revolved around real estate.

  One of the photos sitting on the mantelpiece was of his mother and Debbie, both still living in Florida. Another was of his father, who had been born in Jamaica and had moved back there after the divorce. Noah and his sister had spent their early years shuttling back and forth between Florida and Jamaica two and three times a year. Debbie had been his rock during those times, and they were still very close.

  “That’s one of the reasons I want to stay here,” he said. “I hate moving around now.”

  Barbara nodded and he led her into the kitchen and pointed to the microwave oven.

  “One of my most prized possessions,” he said.

  Barbara laughed out loud. By the time he led her back across the living room floor and up the stairs, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.

  “And this is the bedroom,” he said as soon as they entered. It was sparsely furnished but tidy like the rest of the house. He walked around and explained each piece, one by one—the bookcase full of books by authors from Toni Morrison to Eric Jerome Dickey, the patchwork quilt handmade by his mother, the first tennis racket given to him by his father. He pointed to the treadmill in a corner of the room and explained that he used it for an hour each morning before going in to his teaching job.

  As he moved around, Barbara noticed that he skipped over the king-size bed, easily the biggest object in the room. Perhaps he was just as nervous about this as she was.

  Finally he stopped and turned to face her. He took both of her hands in his and squeezed her fingers. Maybe he wasn’t so nervous after all, Barbara thought.

  “And this is the bed.”

  “Hmm,” she said softly.

  “And this is a boy.” He pointed to himself without letting her hands go.

  “And this is a girl.”

  Barbara closed her eyes. It was corny as hell and straight from a movie she had seen a long time ago. She couldn’t remember which one. Still, it was the first time anyone had recited the lines to her and it felt very romantic.

  She looked up at him, and this time when he leaned in to kiss her, she didn’t resist.

  JOLENE GOT DOWN on her hands and knees and searched under the bed of the Capitol Holiday Inn for her G-string. Not th
ere. She stood and immediately noticed Brian sitting in the chair near the window in his red boxer shorts and dangling it. She snatched it from him.

  “Damn,” he said. “Just trying to help.”

  She smacked her lips with annoyance. She could feel his eyes watching her every move as she pulled the G-string up over her hips, and it disgusted her. He disgusted her. But one thing about Brian, he was always even hornier than she was and that was saying a lot.

  He licked his forefinger and ran it across the table top next to him, picking up the last remnants of coke they had snorted earlier. He stuck his finger in his mouth.

  She reached down to the floor, grabbed his blue jeans, and threw them at him. “You need to get up off your lazy ass and get dressed,” she said quietly but firmly. “And clean that shit up,” she said, pointing to the small empty baggie and straw sitting on the tabletop.

  “What the hell kind of way is that to treat me,” he said as he slipped into his jeans. “When you called a couple of hours ago, I couldn’t get over here fast enough for you. Now you ready to kick my ass out. Women. Sheesh.”

  “I’m not kicking you out,” she said. “But I don’t have all day.”

  “Fine with me. Never liked no cheap-ass Holiday Inn anyhow. Air conditioner don’t even work half right and it’s hot as hell. Don’t know why you can’t spring for something a little nicer when we meet, all that money you got now.”

  Jolene was tempted to remind him that the Holiday Inn was probably nicer than his apartment, wherever the hell that was. She couldn’t risk running into someone she knew at any of the nicer hotels. But she bit her tongue. There was no need to be uncivil. Brian filled a huge void in her life and he did a damn good job of it. Besides, she needed him to help carry out her plan.

  “You didn’t mind being hot a minute ago,” she said teasingly as she fastened her bra.

  He smiled at her as he pulled his T-shirt over his head. “I guess I’ll get on back to the office then. Give me a call anytime you want to have some fun.”

  “Wait.” She reached out and touched him. “I’m not ready for you to leave just yet.”