Drama 99 FM

by Janine A. Morris

  She sat back, resting her head on the tall back of the chair, sipping on her wine. She felt sexy in her nightie, sitting in the candlelight in the living room of her three-quarters-of-a-million-dollar house. A few minutes went by, and she heard a noise. She slowly looked over the back of the chair, but she didn’t see anything. The song on the CD player changed to another, and Brian began to croon his song, “Never Felt This Way,” one of Madison’s favorites. She could feel the chill go up her spine. She was anticipating seeing Jamahl even more now, but she still couldn’t see him. She could hear him in the kitchen, so she assumed he was preparing their plates. She rested her head back on the chair once again with her eyes closed, trying to sit patiently and let him take charge for once without trying to be the boss. She was realizing she liked how it felt. She just sat back, waiting for him to run the show. She took a sip of her wine.

  A few moments later, she heard footsteps. She remained still with her head leaned back and eyes closed until she heard them even closer. She finally opened her eyes, and there he was standing in front of her. She didn’t know if it was thinking all the lovely thoughts or just that the barber had hooked him up, but Jamahl was standing there looking fine as hell. He was wearing a wife-beater tank top and some black lounge pants. His full lips looked Vaseline smooth, and he just looked ready for loving—maybe it was the candlelight or the wine, but Madison wanted him. She was too horny to notice that the look on his face didn’t match the mood of the night. He looked upset. She looked down and saw her work BlackBerry in his hand.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “You tell me,” he said. He extended his arm and opened his hand, passing Madison the work BlackBerry. She looked at it, and there was an e-mail from Polytics. I miss you, baby, when can I see you again. I have been horny all day thinking about you. Madison’s mouth dropped open as she tried to think of something to say, but nothing was coming out.

  “It was vibrating by your purse in the porch. I was going to bring it to you. I didn’t know that I would intercept you and your boyfriend’s plans,” he said in an attempted calm tone.

  “Jamahl,” she said. “I know this looks crazy.”

  “Who the fuck is that?” he said, not paying her plea one bit of attention.

  “Jamahl—” she said.

  “Who the fuck is that!?”

  Madison knew he was real pissed off. In most situations she would never allow him to talk to her like this, but in this instance—where she was dead wrong and she could clearly see that he wasn’t playing at all—she knew this was not the time to get angry. Madison wasn’t prepared to tell him the truth, though. She knew it would sound even crazier telling him it was Polytics, one of the biggest rappers in the game, hitting his girl on the BlackBerry saying he was horny. He would never believe it was innocent, so though she contemplated coming clean, she knew this was the time to lie.

  “He’s just some guy who works at a label who has been trying to holler at me. There is nothing going on, though,” she said.

  Madison was thankful that she coded the names in her phone—Polytics was entered in as “PC, Intheloop Records.” She didn’t like leaving people’s full names or artist names in case her phone was lost or stolen. She knew some crazy teenager would have a ball just calling up Russell Simmons’s house and Jay-Z’s cell phone. She had been coding celebrity names for years, so she knew Jamahl wouldn’t question the secret name—or he would wonder why a regular-label person was coded. Either way it didn’t matter—she was calculating her story in her head, and she was damn sure sticking to it.

  “When is he going to see you again?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, Jamahl. I hardly ever see him. I don’t even know why he sent this,” she said.

  “Call him right now and find out why.”

  That caught Madison way off guard. She looked down at the phone and acted as if his request was no problem for her, but then she didn’t know how to get out of that.

  “He is my colleague. I don’t want to make a scene here,” Madison said.

  “This isn’t causing a scene. He just sent you a text that’s crazy—he already caused a scene,” he said.

  Madison had to agree. Here they were in the middle of their candlelit house about to embark on an extremely romantic evening, and now they were standing there arguing over this e-mail. Madison’s heart was beating; her shower was becoming irrelevant as her perspiration levels increased. She couldn’t believe how fast the tables had turned. Moments prior she had been looking forward to one of the most romantic nights of her life, and now here she was on the verge of possibly getting caught in a huge lie and losing her boyfriend of six years. She wished that she didn’t care, that she could put up her tough-girl wall and dominate this situation, but she couldn’t. Something inside her was broken down; she was scared shitless and didn’t know what to do.

  “I am not calling him. This is silly,” she said, rising from her chair.

  “Then I will call,” he said as he reached for her phone.

  “No, you are not,” she said and jerked the phone from his reach. “This is silly, and I can’t believe you would ruin this beautiful night with this insecure nonsense.”

  She began to walk toward the staircase, knowing that her attempt at reverse psychology had a slight chance of working because it was the oldest trick in the book. She headed up the stairs, back to where she had tried to shake her feelings of guilt, only to revisit them full force. She was hungry, but she was just going to have to eat later because if she wanted to get out of this without being fully exposed, she was going to have to stick to her stance of being disgusted, disappointed, and mad. She was just hoping it was a matter of time before he would begin to second-guess himself and let it go.

  Chapter 19

  The restaurant was crowded by the time they got there, and if they hadn’t known that most restaurants in the city were going to be pretty filled that night, they would have left. Naomi was out to dinner with Severio from accounting. They had spoken on and off for months, but after she had told him a few days prior that she was homesick, he told her he wanted to take her to this Texas barbecue place; without much hesitation at all, she obliged. She didn’t know if it was supposed to be a date or if it was just a friendly night out, but she was interested in some company.

  Severio was cute. He was about five-eight and brown skinned with a goatee and light brown eyes. He was a bit stocky but wasn’t too built up, had nice skin, and had a beautiful smile—not that she was checking him out. She preferred not to consider it a date because she knew that technically speaking that would make her a cheater—because Charles was still supposed to be her loving boyfriend back home. They now barely spoke about much when they did get a chance to speak, and although she still missed him, she was definitely adapting to being without him. So even if just for the friendship, Naomi was glad that Severio had invited her out.

  The waiter sat them down in the back in one of those tables a lot of people probably complain about. It wasn’t as though the bathroom door swung open to hit them, but they were a bit too close to the kitchen and all the hustle and bustle. Even if they wanted to make a big deal about it, they knew they would end up having to wait quite a while for another table and would only hurt themselves, so they happily sat down and stayed put.

  “I know these seats suck, but when you get your plate, you will feel like you’re back home and will forget about where you’re sitting anyway,” he said.

  “These seats beat sitting at home another night watching television,” she said. “And I don’t have DVR, so by the time I get home, there’s nothing good to watch on television.”

  “So, you really just stay home all the time? I would think after moving here from Texas you would be like a tourist going to all the New York museums and crap,” he said.

  “I went to MOMA when I first got here, but once this job got ahold of me, I haven’t been able to enjoy the city as much.”

  “You really need to take
some more time to do it. This city really has a lot of great things to offer, and you live right here in Harlem, which is a great place to live.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I hear. How Harlem is on the rise and there are so many nice spots and events to attend.”

  “So why don’t you go?” he asked.

  “I don’t know—no one to go with usually.”

  “A true city girl can roll dolo,” he said.

  “Dolo?” she said, scrunching up her nose at him.

  “Alone, by yourself—you don’t need anyone but your damn self to go out and have a good time,” he said.

  “Wow, I am definitely not there yet,” she said.

  “I don’t know why. If you’re home alone, why can’t you go out alone?”

  “I don’t know. Something about being in public around a bunch of people hanging out with their friends or boyfriends or someone, and I’m just there all alone with no one to talk to. You start talking to strangers and eavesdropping on conversations,” she said with a chuckle.

  “What’s wrong with talking to strangers?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, I guess I’m just not outgoing enough.”

  The waiter walked over dressed in all black. She was five-seven and light skinned with a short reddish-brown haircut like Rihanna. She was a pretty girl, but definitely not Rihanna pretty. Naomi wondered if Severio was thinking of things he would like to do to the waiter. She hated having a pretty waiter or bartender serve her when she was on a date. The young lady began to take their orders. Naomi didn’t bother with the salad-ordering routine—she had come to a Texas-style restaurant to enjoy a good old Texas meal. She ordered barbecued chicken and ribs with macaroni and cheese and some potato skins. Her mouth began to water just thinking about the meal to come.

  “You’re going to eat all that?” Severio asked.

  “I sure am,” she said.

  He laughed.

  “I used to eat my mother’s cooking every night back home. This is nothing for me,” Naomi added.

  “OK, well, I’m glad I took you here then,” he said.

  “So you are single, Mr. Severio?” she asked.

  He seemed shocked at her bold and out-of-the-blue question.

  “Actually I’m not, but my girlfriend and I are kind of on a break of sorts right now,” he said, looking down at his fingers fiddling with the cornbread.

  “A break or a breakup?” she asked.

  “I don’t even know myself—it’s her thing. It’s been close to two months, and I am real unsure as to what is going on with things…and with her.”

  Naomi wanted to ask more questions, but she was beginning to sense that this was a pretty soft spot for him, and she didn’t want to pry if he wasn’t comfortable talking about it.

  “Well, I am in a similar situation,” she said.

  He looked up at her and tilted his head with a curious expression.

  “Yeah, he lives in Texas, and we said we were going to try to do things long distance, but I don’t think it’s working out so well.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “In the beginning we talked and shared so much that it was like obvious we missed each other like crazy. Now we go days at a time without speaking, and when we are on the phone, we have, like, nothing to say. It just seems like the love is fading and there is no more interest there. Maybe the distance is getting to us,” she said.

  “You don’t seem all that hurt by it. Maybe you guys are just growing apart,” he said.

  Just ’cause I’m not pouting like you were? she thought. She pondered what he’d said and realized their adult lives may have made them different people or changed their priorities.

  “I guess you’re right,” she said. “I did love him a lot—I almost didn’t move here because of him. Now it’s like I still love him, but I don’t feel the same way I did.”

  “Does he know this?”

  Naomi looked down at her plate. “No, he doesn’t.”

  “Maybe you need to talk to him,” he said.

  “Yeah, maybe I do,” she said.

  Severio could see that Naomi was envisioning a clip of what she would say or what her boyfriend would say—from the look on her face, she had mentally left the table for a quick second. He wasn’t sure what to say and was thankful when the waiter approached with their meals.

  “Yummy, yummy,” he said.

  “Yes, no more talking now. It’s time to eat,” Naomi said with a smile.

  She was kidding, and he knew that, but yet for the first few minutes of eating, they spoke only a few words. Naomi took this time to think if and when she was going to speak to Charles and what she would say. She knew things weren’t what they should be, and if she didn’t speak about it, there was a strong chance it would only get worst. She didn’t want to end up seeking elsewhere for a man and have to cope with the guilt of cheating on Charles. She knew she had to figure something out…soon.

  Chapter 20

  It was a windy day—the kind of wind you can hear whirling through city buildings. Madison was walking down Forty-Second Street; she had hopped in a cab and asked to be dropped off on Forty-Second and Seventh. She wanted to spend her lunch hour shopping for a couple things for her weekend getaway to the Hamptons. She had left the station more than an hour ago, but because she was the boss of her department, and the general manager was out sick, she felt no rush to get back. She had spent the last twenty minutes in Sephora trying on makeup and new lip glosses when she realized she could be in there for hours if she didn’t stop, so she headed to the register.

  She bought two lip glosses and a nail polish and headed back onto the busy street. She walked for two blocks, pushing against the wind, heading toward the Victoria’s Secret. She made her way through the crowds and began to hope that the store wasn’t crowded the way Sephora had been. She had one more block to walk and was walking closer to the curb where less people were walking. Madison was so focused she didn’t even notice the black Suburban rolling alongside her. She heard a horn a few feet away from her and jumped back, away from the curb. She looked back, trying to see why the horn was so loud and close to her, when she saw the black Suburban with tinted windows. Madison rolled her eyes and continued walking.

  The Suburban pulled up, and the driver’s-side window rolled down.

  “Do you need a lift?” the driver said.

  “No, I am fine,” Madison replied.

  “You sure?”

  “I am sure. Can you drive along? You are kind of close to me,” Madison said as she scurried along the curb.

  There was a mass of people walking beside her, and she didn’t care to weave her way through the crowd to get to the other side of the sidewalk. She preferred that this man move along so she could walk in peace.

  “You are so stuck up,” Madison heard a voice say.

  She looked back and saw that the back window to the Suburban was rolled halfway down. She tried to see into the window but couldn’t. Instead of trying to see more, she just rolled her eyes once again and continued walking.

  “Damn, you are stuck up. Just because you run the biggest radio station in the country doesn’t mean you have to act like that,” the voice said.

  Madison slowed down a bit to see who was saying this, though the voice was familiar enough. The truck had been following her very slowly, so Madison slowed down just enough to see in the back window. As she looked in, the window began to lower more, and then she finally saw the guy’s face. It was Polytics with a huge grin like he had just succeeded at the best prank of the year.

  “You was about to fight me?” he asked.

  “No, but I was about to curse you out.”

  “I can tell—the look on your face seemed serious.”

  “I am not stuck up,” she said, laughing.

  Polytics opened the door. He was dressed in some baggy dark blue Rock & Republic jeans with a brown thermal and some brown construction boots. He had on a brown Gucci skully with a thick signature red stripe
down the middle and some Tom Ford shades. He was damn sure looking fresh—dressed like a million bucks. Madison had to clear her mind to remember that this little charade with Polytics was only going to get her in big trouble if she didn’t stop.

  “Get in. Ride with me.”

  “How do you know I don’t have somewhere to be?”

  “I don’t know, but I know you can get in for a second.”

  Madison looked up the street at Victoria’s Secret and figured a ride back to work was worth the change of plans.

  “Well, drop me off at the station, then, Mr. Prankster,” she said as she stepped up into the truck.

  Polytics scooted over to make room for Madison.

  “To the radio station, Cliff,” Polytics told his driver.

  Madison assumed that Cliff knew which radio station she worked for. He wasn’t the same driver, and Polytics must have told him something for him to know which New York radio station to drive to.

  “Where were you headed?” Madison asked.

  “I just left the label, and I was about to head back home to chill for a bit.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “New Jersey,” he replied.

  “Oh, OK.”

  “You’re a city girl, right?”

  “No. I live in White Plains. I moved from the city a couple of years ago.”

  “Oh, OK. I thought I heard otherwise.”

  “You need to update your sources.”

  He just laughed and looked out his window. Madison noticed the quiet moment and went along with it. She took out her BlackBerry and began to check her e-mails. When Polytics heard the clicking sound from the buttons, he turned.