Cheesecake and Teardrops

by Faye Thompson

  Before long they were a few blocks from Madison Square Garden, pulling up into a garage. They got out of the car, and the parking attendant did the rest.

  “You could probably be a New York cabbie on the side,” she told him.

  “And you could probably be my boss,” he said, referring to her driving skills that first day. They both laughed.

  The line for the basketball game wrapped all the way around the block. New Yorkers were tough cookies, and it took more than a half-hour wait in the cold to discourage them from supporting the home team. After about another fifteen minutes outside the line began to move, and the warmth that greeted them at the entrance to the Garden was much appreciated.

  With the help of an usher, Nate and Charisma found their seats, and they weren’t too shabby, either. They were seated about eleven rows behind center court.

  “Great seats,” she said, leaning toward him.

  It wasn’t long before someone came around to take their order. Nate ordered a beer, and Charisma a 7UP. Nate refused to let Charisma buy her own drink. “Save your money,” he told her. “You’ll need it when the Knicks lose, and you buy me dinner.”

  She threw back her head and laughed as the pregame show began. “Don’t you know those are fightin’ words? And practically everyone in here has my back so I suggest that you watch yours.”

  “I see you New Yorkers are a confident bunch.” He grinned.

  “Sometimes modesty’s overrated, so we just cut to the chase.”

  Finally, the pregame show ended and the Los Angeles Lakers were introduced amidst a chorus of boos. Then the announcer introduced the New York Knickerbockers and the crowd went wild. Nate gave Charisma a smirk.

  “Let the games begin,” she said simply at the opening tipoff.

  Charisma knew her basketball. Not only was she familiar with the players on both teams, she also knew the referee’s signals. At one point, she and 95 percent of the Garden disagreed with one of the calls, and they let their displeasure be known. Kobe made two foul shots off the call. By halftime the game was tied at fifty-nine.

  Nate headed for the men’s room while Charisma stood and stretched. It was hard to tell who’d be buying whom dinner after the game. By the time Nate returned the third quarter had already begun.

  He looked up at the score. “Damn!” The Lakers hadn’t scored in the last five minutes, and the Knicks were ahead by seven. When Stephon Marbury hit a three-pointer from downtown giving the Knicks a ten-point lead, the Lakers had no choice but to call a time out. The crowd was on their feet, giving the Knicks a standing ovation. The Garden was on fire, and the Knicks were unstoppable. They beat the Lakers 107–92.

  Charisma looked at Nate without saying a word. Nate returned the look and laughed.

  “You win,” he said simply. “I guess it’s time to pay up. Where would you like to eat?” he asked as they slowly left the Garden.

  “How about Mustang Sally’s?” she suggested.

  “Your wish is my command,” he said. “Lead the way.”

  It was a perfect autumn night for walking in the city. Charisma loved Manhattan. No other place in the world could compare. When she was a teenager, she dreamed of going to France. She’d be the toast of Paris and would shop at all the high class boutiques along the Champs-Elysées.

  Her father promised to take her there one day. When Charisma grew up, she discovered the city and told her friends that she’d take Manhattan, preferring the city that never sleeps to the City of Lights.

  Surprisingly, they only waited twenty minutes for a table.

  The place was packed after the game, but the turnover was fast. They slid into a booth and ordered drinks. It was a martini night. Nate ordered apple martinis while Charisma drank chocolate ones. By the time the appetizers came around they were both mellowing out and enjoying each other’s company.

  “You are just full of surprises, aren’t you, Miss Dearborn?”

  “Whatever do you mean, Mr. Arquette?”

  “Well, I mean you have beauty, brains, and you know all about basketball. What more could a man possible want? You must have a deep, dark side. Am I right?”

  She tilted her head to the right and circled the rim of her martini glass with her finger. “Doesn’t everyone?” she said, shrugging.

  “Let me guess. You go around slashing men’s tires if they beat you out of a parking spot.”

  “Only if I’m late for work and the new boss is due that morning,” she added. “But enough about me. Let’s talk about you.”

  “Okay. What would you like to know?”

  “You probably haven’t lived here long enough to establish a relationship, but there has to be someone in your life. Are you into long-distance relationships?”

  “Not me. I had one right after college, and I promised myself never, ever again. It’s like setting yourself up for failure. It’s a no-win situation. Why bother?”

  “Okay, then you must be into Internet sex.”

  “You must be kidding?” He laughed.

  “I just can’t imagine how a man like you can be walking around unattached. I mean you have a good job. With dental benefits,” she stressed, laughing.

  “With dental benefits,” he agreed.

  “You seem to have a lot going for you. What’s the deal?”

  “Well, if you gave me the chance to wear you out in the bedroom, maybe I could prove to you that I’m your Mr. Right,” he said, referring to an earlier conversation that they had had. “But that’s strictly off the record.”

  Charisma was caught completely off guard. For a minute their eyes locked, and they sat in silence. Finally, she looked away.

  “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry,” Nate apologized.

  “That’s a tempting offer,” she said, smoothing down the hair on the back of her neck, her face flushed with excitement.

  “But just like you don’t do long-distance relationships, I don’t do my bosses.”

  As if on cue, the waitress arrived with their piping-hot pizza.

  7

  Tangie

  Tangie had been in the gym for about an hour when she was called to the front desk. Before she even made it all the way up there, she could see him standing there. It was Blade. Blade was a regular at the gym, working out a good five days a week. Tangie wished that he would just go on with his workout and let her be, but it wasn’t that simple.

  “Tangie, we need to talk,” he began.

  “Really? About what?”

  “Are you still mad at me?”

  “No, I’m not mad at you. I’m through with you. And would you mind not making a scene? I work here.”

  “Calm down, Tangie. Nobody’s trying to make a scene, but I told you. I was at work the other night. Don’t fault a man for making a living.”

  “Don’t even try it,” she said, referring to his lame attempt to flip the script. “I am sick and tired of being at the bottom of your list of priorities. You told me you were coming by for our anniversary. I planned a nice evening for us, and you show up at 2:00 A.M. Sunday morning like I’m just an afterthought or something. Find someone else to be your doormat. I’m through.” Without so much as a backward glance, Tangie walked away.

  When she arrived home that evening, Blade was standing on her front porch with a dozen red roses. How trite. The man doesn’t have an original bone in his body.

  “What are you doing here, Blade?” she said, the tiredness evident in her voice.

  “I wanna take you out to dinner.”

  “Why?”

  “I know you’re tired, and I just wanted to do something to make your life a little easier.”

  “You should’ve thought of that two years ago.”

  “Tangie, please. I’m really trying. And it’s cold as hell out here.”

  She looked into his eyes and decided to hear him out.

  “So where are you taking me?”

  “Name the place.”

  “I’m not changing my clothes,” she to
ld him.

  “How about the diner?”

  “Fine.”

  She put her house keys back into her purse and got into the car. “So whose car did you steal?”

  “It’s a rental,” he admitted as he started the ignition.

  They drove the short distance to the diner in silence. It was only after the waitress took their orders that they spoke.

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about us lately,” Blade began. “And I really want this relationship to work.”

  “Why do you suddenly want this relationship to work?”

  “Because you’re important to me.” He sat in silence for a moment as the waitress returned with their meals. “I don’t want to lose you, baby.” He reached out for her hand and brought it up to his lips. “I need you, baby.” He stared at her intensely and a tear formed in the corner of his eye.

  “Please, baby, I promise to be a better man.”

  “Do you promise?” she asked.

  He nodded slowly, unable to speak.

  She returned his glance and a tear welled up in her eye as well. “Let’s go home,” she said simply.

  “Life never turns out the way you plan it,” Tangie said to Charisma as they sat in Tangie’s living room, listening to Mary J. Blige. “I mean, I thought that by thirty-four I’d have a few years of marriage under my belt and at least one crumb snatcher on my hip. But here I am miserably single. Go figure.”

  “Tangie, you have plenty of time for that. Trust me. You still have your whole life ahead of you. We both do.”

  “I’m not cut out for this, Charisma. I’m meant to be part of a couple.”

  “And you will be when the time is right.”

  “See, that’s why I can’t understand why you’re not giving Nate more play. You know he wants you. All you and Dex have are weekly drive-bys with no strings attached.”

  “And that’s enough for me,” Charisma said.

  “You think like a man. Don’t you want to plan a wedding and be princess for a day?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Charisma laughed. “I was born a princess. You’re starting to sound like a desperate woman.”

  “I need a drink,” Tangie said, getting up to make a batch of chocolate martinis.

  “I think we both do,” Charisma said.

  Just then the phone rang. “Will you get that?” Tangie yelled from the kitchen.

  “Okay,” Charisma shot back.

  It was Heather, apologizing for not being able to make it over that night. She had to work late but wouldn’t miss their breakfast date on Saturday.

  “That was Heather,” Charisma told Tangie as she returned from the kitchen bearing a tray with a pitcher of wicked martinis and two glasses. Tangie poured them both a glass and laid back on the sofa just as the phone rang again. Tangie checked her caller ID.

  “Hello?”

  It was Blade.

  “Hi, baby. How’s it going?” She paused, listening to his response. “No problem, take your time. Charisma and I are just hanging out. See you later. Okay, bye.”

  “You should’ve let your machine pick up. Make him wonder where you are sometimes. I think you’re too available to him,” Charisma said.

  “No, I don’t want to start playing games, and he’s been on his best behavior lately.”

  “Really?”

  “I know. Hard to believe, right?” Tangie asked.

  “Exactly,” Charisma said, making a dent in her first martini. Confident that Tangie was home and staying out of trouble, Blade was ready to get in to some. His finger had been itching to hit Blondie on her cell phone ever since he first met her. He worked out an extra hour at the gym just to release some of that nervous energy. Luckily it was Tangie’s day off, and he could concentrate on other things.

  He checked his watch. It was a little after seven. He gave her a call. Her phone just rang and rang. Funny, he didn’t even know her name, and it never occurred to him that she could have given him a fake number. It wasn’t even a thought; as good as he looked that night at the concert, please.

  Finally, she picked up. “Hello?”

  “What’s up, baby?”

  “Who is this?” she asked.

  “It’s Blade. We met at the Jay-Z concert. You gave me your number.”

  “Hey, brown sugar.” She smiled. “I was wondering when you’d call. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”

  “Forgotten about you? I may not know your name, but I definitely got your number.”

  “And what would that be?” she asked.

  “I think we have a definite vibe going on. I mean, we’re both feelin’ each other. Am I right?”

  Her response was a throaty laugh.

  “I can’t get you out of my mind. When can I see you?”

  She paused for a moment. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

  “Gettin’ with you, I hope. Just say where, and I’ll be there.”

  “How about the Sandbox in Hempstead?”

  “On Peninsula Ave?”

  “Yeah, let’s meet there tomorrow night around ten?”

  “That’ll work,” Blade said simply, praying he could get someone to cover for him at the G-Spot as he made plans to get into hers.

  “Great, see you then,” she said.

  “Hold up. Hold up,” Blade said. “What’s your name?”

  “Chase,” she said.

  “Chase,” he echoed. “I like that.”

  “See you tomorrow night.”

  “A’ight.”

  Blade quickly dialed his buddy Jason to fill in for him tomorrow night. Jason couldn’t but thought that maybe Alec could. He was right. Alec needed to make some extra cash and was more than willing to help Blade out. Blade could already feel a rise at the thought of new meat on his table.

  Blade spent the next day working out at the gym and washing his newly acquired ride. He even stopped by his barber for a fresh cut. Then he came home, took a nap, showered, and got ready to meet Chase.

  He got to the bar around ten-fifteen and scoped out the place from the parking lot before heading in. It was packed even for a Friday night. He stood at the bar and ordered a beer, checking out the clientele—mostly white, sprinkled with a few blacks.

  His cell phone vibrated. It was probably Chase, he thought as he retrieved it from the inside of his jacket pocket. Nope, it was Tangie. He wasn’t in the mood for Tangie, not tonight.

  He let his voice mail pick up as he took another sip of beer. Another ten minutes went by and no sign of Chase.

  He ordered another beer. Was she playing games? He’d give her a few more minutes, and then he’d bounce. It was already after eleven. He finished his beer, paid the bartender, and prepared to leave. Just as he stood he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders.

  “Going somewhere?”

  He turned. It was Chase.

  Blade broke out in a grin. “Playing hard to get?”

  “Not me.” She smiled mischievously. Just then a stool opened up and she sat down next to him.

  “So what’s the hot drink around here?” Blade asked her

  “Mojitos. Buy me one?”

  He laughed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Blade said, signaling the bartender. “Let me have two mojitos,” he told him.

  The bartender looked at Blade first and then Chase—apparently not thrilled to see them coupled up. He rolled his eyes ever so slightly, prepared their drinks, and returned with them momentarily.

  Blade took a sip of his drink. “Excuse me a minute. I’ll be right back,” he said, heading for the men’s room.

  Chase ran a perfectly manicured hand through her blond locks. The bartender moved in on her.

  “So what’s up with you and Mandingo?” he asked.

  “What’s it to ya?” she shot back.

  He shook his head, mumbled something under his breath, and walked away.

  Chase recalled as a twelve-year-old being in a drugstore with her mother. A black guy asked the pharmac
ist for extra-large condoms. The pharmacist had told him no, just what was on the shelf. He turned to the other pharmacist and asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “What the hell does he want, a freaking garbage bag?” Chase hadn’t understood then, but she understood all too well now. White men were good for wining and dining her, but when her body ached, only a brotha would do. She silently prayed that Blade would deliver her.

  As if on cue, Blade returned from the men’s room. “I think it’s time we get this party started.” He winked.

  Chase checked her watch. “And not a minute too soon,” she said, her lips curling into a wicked smile.

  “Why the hell isn’t he answering his cell?” Tangie said to Charisma and Heather as they sat on the floor of Tangie’s living room, eating Jamaican beef patties.

  Tangie had stopped by Wilson’s West Indian Bakery on Guy R. Brewer Boulevard across from Rochdale on her way home from work for the spicy treats. She had bought a dozen, knowing how much they all loved them. They were easily the best she had ever tasted, bar none. Even Heather wolfed down two.

  “I have been calling that man all freakin’ day. I am fed up with his crap. I’ve had it up to here.” She motioned to her chin.

  “I thought you erased his numbers from your life,” Charisma said.

  “I did, but I can’t help it if I have a memory like an elephant,” Tangie shot back.

  “Why do you let him drive you crazy?” Heather asked.

  “You know how he is. You should be used to him by now.”

  “I know, but I thought this time would be different. I thought he had changed.”

  “Sweetie, I know you want to believe in Blade, but one tear does not a changed man make,” Charisma said.

  “For all you know, he sprinkled some salt in his eyes when you weren’t looking.” Heather said, laughing and Tangie rolled her eyes.

  “He knows how to play the game. Don’t underestimate him,” Charisma warned. “And what you have with Blade right now is as good as it gets. He’ll never try to wine and dine you again. He’s already got you.”