She looked at him for a minute.
“I’ve heard it a thousand times. You don’t do windows, and you don’t do bosses. Surely you do dinner?”
“And where will that lead?” she asked.
“Wherever you do or don’t want it to.”
“You don’t give up, do you?”
“That’s why I’m the boss.”
“Yeah, you’re my boss,” she reminded him.
“Let me ask you something. If I weren’t your boss, would I stand a chance?”
“Maybe.”
“Let me tell you something. If I weren’t your boss, I would’ve had you by now.”
“You’re real sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Just keeping it real.”
“How so?”
“Your biggest defense from day one has been that you don’t do your bosses. Not that I’m not your type or we’re not attracted to each other or we’re not compatible. Am I right? It’s always been our working relationship that’s prevented me from going further. So all I’m saying is that if our nine-to-five relationship wasn’t the issue, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. In fact, we’d probably be in your bedroom right now, wearing each other out.”
“You’re something else. I don’t know how much more I can take of this.”
“Stop fighting it. We both want the same thing. What is it about me that you fear most?” Nate asked.
Charisma took another sip of wine and thought for a moment.
“I guess I’m afraid of losing control.”
“That’s not always a bad thing.”
“Well, I’d certainly be sacrificing my principles.”
“Gee, thanks a lot.”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that I’d be doing something totally against my character.”
“Sometimes people need to get outside their comfort zone.” He took the wine glass from her hand and placed it on the coffee table. They turned to face one another. He cupped her face in his hands. She covered his hands, still cold, with her own.
“Relax, baby,” he whispered in her ear.
She closed her eyes and kissed him, their tongues easing into the warmth.
“You’re beautiful. Do you know that?” he whispered.
“And you’re delicious,” she told him, ready for another kiss.
“I knew you’d taste like cinnamon toast,” he joked. “You play hard to get for months, and now you’re giving me a hard-on.”
“What can I say, you wore me down.”
He slid his hand underneath her tank top and unhooked her bra. “All I want to do is please you, Charisma.” He kissed her tenderly.
She smiled up at him and began to unbutton his shirt.
Then she unzipped his fly. Nate kissed her hungrily. She moaned as she eased down onto the sofa.
Suddenly, Charisma’s phone rang. She reached behind her head to answer it. Nate grabbed her hand. “Not this time,” he said. They wrestled playfully until her machine picked up.
It was her mother in tears. Nate hopped up, and Charisma quickly picked up the receiver.
“Mother, what’s wrong?” Charisma asked. “Oh my God. Uh-huh. Which hospital? Okay, I’ll meet you there.” Charisma looked at Nate with fear in her eyes. “I have to go. My father’s in North Shore’s emergency room.”
Nate stood, zipped up, and put his jacket back on. “I’ll drive you. You don’t need to get stranded on the road somewhere,” he said.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“It’s the least I can do,” he said.
“Thanks, Nate. I owe you one.”
16
Tangie
“Would you believe Tony still hasn’t called?” Tangie exclaimed to Heather and Charisma over breakfast at IHOP.
“It hasn’t been that long,” Charisma insisted, sliding a bacon strip in her mouth.
“It’s been long enough,” Tangie decided.
“What’s he like, anyway?” Heather asked.
“Let’s just say he’s got a thick . . . neck,” Tangie said. “But seriously, he definitely seemed interested,” she recalled.
“Did he give you his number?” Heather asked.
Tangie shook her head.
“Maybe he’s married,” Heather said.
“I don’t think so.” Tangie poured more syrup onto her buttermilk pancakes. “Maybe he’s on a special assignment.”
“It’s possible,” Charisma agreed.
“I don’t know if I can handle getting involved with an FBI agent,” Tangie admitted.
Tangie kept herself busy so that she wouldn’t think about Tony not calling. Even though she didn’t know him that well, she had hoped that he’d be the one. Apparently, she was wrong. Again. She threw herself into work at the gym, practically doubling her paycheck with overtime. It was a shame that she needed a man or lack thereof to help get her finances straight.
Tangie was looking forward to spending a nice, quiet evening at home when Heather and Charisma called her to go ice-skating at Rockefeller Center. “You guys go ahead without me. I’m running on fumes,” she told them.
“It’ll be fun,” Charisma said.
“All I want is sleep.” Tangie’s bed felt like heaven. “Are we still on for tomorrow morning?” she yawned.
“Uh-huh. Are you sure you don’t wanna join us?” Heather asked.
“Positive. Have fun,” Tangie insisted before hanging up.
Never mind counting sheep. Tangie always drifted off to sleep doing her Kegels. Nothing beat a tight coochie. By seven-thirty, Tangie was already in la-la land. Somewhere around nine her phone rang again, and she blindly reached for it.
“Hello,” she said groggily.
“Sounds like I called at a bad time.”
Tangie instantly perked up upon hearing the familiar male voice on the other end. It was Tony. She sat up in bed and turned on the lamp on her nightstand, secretly smiling.
“Not at all. I must’ve dozed off. I’m awake now.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” she told him.
“Feel like getting a bite to eat?”
“I’d love to. Where’d you have in mind?”
“What do you say we take a ride into Manhattan and have a nice dinner?” he suggested.
“Sounds like a plan,” she said softly.
“May I pick you up?”
“You certainly may.” Tangie began to give him her address.
“You don’t think I’d get your phone number without getting your address?” He laughed and Tangie joined in. “What time shall I pick you up?”
Tangie checked the clock on her nightstand. “How about in an hour?”
“See you then,” he agreed.
Tangie hung up, giggling as she hugged her knees to her chest. It was amazing how the right call could revive her from the snatches of exhaustion. She was wide awake.
She jumped into the shower, pampering her skin with a fragrant body wash before wrapping herself in a thick, thirsty towel. Tangie then slathered on her favorite moisturizer and body lotion before heading back to her bedroom.
Next, came the hard part, deciding on something to wear.
Tangie had three outfits laid out across her bed, black denim jeans, black cords, and black suede pants. Okay, she tossed the jeans. Finally, she decided on the suede bootcuts, paired with her favorite lime green sweater, and black patent leather shoeties. The green of the sweater made her golden brown skin pop. She spritzed on perfume and returned to the bathroom where she proceeded to apply her makeup. Finally, she unwrapped her layered locks, pleased with the way they fell below her shoulders.
She checked her watch. Tony was due in less than ten minutes if traffic wasn’t too heavy. Tangie suddenly became anxious. She practiced deep-breathing exercises to calm herself—in through the nose, out through the mouth. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, the doorbell ran. It was Tony.
“Hi,” she said s
imply. “Come on in.”
Tony walked through the door looking better than she had remembered. “Wow, you look great.” He kissed her gently on the cheek.
“Did you have any trouble finding me?” she asked.
“None at all.”
“Give me a second, and I’ll be all set,” Tangie said, heading toward her bedroom. Finally she returned, grabbed her coat and purse from the sofa, and out the door they went.
Tangie laughed as Tony helped her into his silver CLK 350 Benz.
“What’s so funny?” he asked her once he was in the driver’s seat.
“Oh, nothing. It’s just that this is my dream car.” She smiled.
“Is that right?”
She nodded.
“Well, maybe you’d like to drive.” He handed her the car keys.
“Are you serious?” she asked.
“Why not? I wanna be the man who makes your dreams come true. All of them.”
Tangie and Tony got out of the car, switched seats, and sped off. Tangie was loving it. The Benz rode nothing like her Nissan. Driving was pure pleasure, and they floated into the city like they were on a magic carpet. Tony instructed Tangie to park in a nearby garage, and she willingly obliged. Then they walked a few short blocks to the restaurant.
Tony wrapped his arm protectively around her shoulder, and she loved it along with the smell of his aftershave.
It was a frigid night, but she had refused to wear a hat and ruin her long, flowing mane.
Like most New York hot spots that night, Finger Lickin’ was jam-packed. Even with reservations they had to wait, but Tangie didn’t mind. The twenty minutes flew by and before long they were seated at a cozy little booth near the fireplace.
Tangie loved soul food. As she looked over the menu, each dish sounded better than the last. “So what do you suggest?” she finally asked Tony when she couldn’t make up her mind.
“I’ll tell you what,” he began. “The portions here are so huge that we can order two separate dishes, split them, and still walk out stuffed. And I promise not to hold it against you if you don’t eat like a bird.”
“Eat like a bird? Don’t let this size-six body fool you.”
“So now that I know your size, what’s your favorite color?”
“Lime green,” she said simply.
“You wear it well.” He winked.
Tangie blushed ever so slightly at the compliment. The waiter came around to take their orders—smothered chicken with cabbage and macaroni and cheese and roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, and string beans. Tangie said her grace and they dove right in. The food was so well seasoned that Tangie flashed back to her grandmother’s kitchen on any given Sunday. Wanting to make a good impression on their first real date, she tried to eat like the perfect lady, but it wasn’t easy.
When they had both finished, Tony picked up her napkin.
“Hold still,” he said as he gently wiped the corner of her mouth. “So was it good for you too?”
“You have no idea.” She smiled.
“Trust me. It gets better,” he said, tossing her the car keys.
The next morning Tangie called Heather and Charisma.
“Mmm, I slept like a baby last night,” Tangie purred.
“Yeah, you were knocked out. We had a ball at Rockefeller Center,” Heather said. “You should’ve been there.”
“I had other plans. I hung out with Tony,” Tangie said, gloating.
“What?” Charisma asked. “I know you did not diss the sisterhood for a man.”
“Can I help it if I’m still a little boy crazy?” Tangie asked.
“A little?” Heather and Charisma said.
“Yeah, a little,” Tangie insisted.
“So how did it go?” Charisma asked.
“It was wonderful,” Tangie began. “He called me about an hour and a half after you guys and invited me out to dinner. We went to this new soul food place in the city. Oh my goodness, I ate like a pig.”
“Is he a good kisser?” Heather asked.
“Don’t know,” Tangie said. “Yet.”
“Losing your touch?” Charisma teased.
“Don’t think he didn’t try,” Tangie told them. “I made sure it landed just a smidgen to the right of my lips. He walked me to my door, and I shook his hand. Playing a little hard to get never hurts any relationship. You know what they say, make a man chase it, before you let him taste it.”
“I hear ya,” Charisma agreed.
“What time is it?” Heather changed the subject.” We better get started if we’re getting our hair and eyebrows done.”
“Be ready in an hour?” Tangie asked them. “I’ll pick you both up.” Tangie said.
“Okay, see you in a little while,” Charisma said.
Tangie, Heather, and Charisma arrived at Daisy’s somewhere around ten-thirty. It had been a struggle getting out of her nice, warm, inviting bed, but Tangie had promised to pick up her girls so she got up. Reluctantly, but she made it.
“Hola, chicas,” Daisy said as they entered her beauty shop. One of the things they liked about the Dominican salons is that they were in and out in no time. It was never an all-day affair.
Two hours later they were on their way to When We Were Queens to have Cinderella do their brows. Naturally, Cinderella had a shop full of women waiting to be waxed and tweezed, but she paused to greet them, kissing the girls on both cheeks. Cinderella fluttered around her customers, giving each the attention they deserved, applying lipsticks, foundation, and the like.
Amazingly, the shop emptied out and Cinderella was left with just Tangie, Charisma, and Heather. “So what’s going on, my queens?” she asked them.
“I met someone,” Tangie said.
“You mean Blade’s history?” Cinderella asked. “Thank God. Call the cops! Well, how’d you two meet, my queen?” she asked as she put wax on Tangie’s brows.
“At a job fair,” Tangie admitted.
“I can tell you like him already. Just take it slow and get to know each other,” Cinderella advised.
Tangie nodded as Cinderella removed the wax from her eyebrows. She finished up with Charisma and Heather, and the girls left the shop with fresh brows and bags of cosmetics and skin-care products.
“Without God and you we truly cannot survive,” Cinderella reminded them as she hugged them good-bye.
Later that evening Tony called Tangie. She so wanted to accept his invitation for drinks but opted out. She had already mapped out her strategy, and there was no room for being too available. So she took a nice, hot bubble bath, had a nice big mug of hot chocolate, and called it a night.
Somewhere around eight o’clock her phone rang again.
She had just drifted off.
“Tangie?” It was Blade.
“What do you want?” she asked, punching her pillow.
“I’m in the hospital. I have two cracked ribs and a dislocated shoulder. I messed with the wrong people and got my ass kicked,” he whispered. “It’s a long story.”
“Payback’s a bitch.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So why are you calling me?”
“I’ll be here a few days. I thought maybe you could stop by and visit. . . .”
“Listen, Blade. I’m sorry about your situation, but I don’t have time for this.”
“Hold up, Tangie. Don’t hang up.”
“Good-bye, Blade.” She clicked the phone in his ear and turned right over. She slept like a baby that night.
The next morning she received a very special delivery—a dozen lime green roses.
17
Charisma
“When are you going to let me take you out to dinner?”
Nico Antonelli asked Charisma as they bumped into each other shopping at Roosevelt Field one Saturday. Nico and Charisma barely knew each other in high school. From time to time they would run into each other, and his first question was always the same. He had done quite well for himself. Today he was the
corporate attorney for Chase’s grandfather, Stone Canyon.
“Nico, how are you?”
“Better now. Even in jeans and sneakers you’re gorgeous. You know that?”
Charisma smiled. “You’re such a flatterer.”
“Hey, I just call ’em as I see ’em. Now back to dinner. I’ll keep asking until you say yes. What are you doing tonight?”
“Tonight?”
“Yes, tonight,” Nico repeated, displaying perfect pearly whites. “And I won’t take no for an answer.”
Charisma thought for a moment. “Tonight it is then.”
“Beautiful.”
“Where would you like to meet?”
“Meet? I’m a gentleman. I’ll pick you up.”
“That’ll be okay.” She gave him her address, and they exchanged phone numbers.
“I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight,” Nico said.
“Me too,” she agreed as she walked away.
Charisma finished up her shopping and headed over to Daisy’s for her weekly shampoo. She was in and out in about an hour. She returned home and took a hot bath. She wondered if she could really go through with dinner because she didn’t normally date white men. According to Tangie, the word around Canyon’s Club was that Chase was his for the taking. His response was basically thanks, but no thanks. Chase would flip, knowing that Nico was practically begging to give it to her. And if Charisma were to conveniently let it slip that Nate was interested in her too . . . Chase would go into conniptions. Revenge could be awfully sweet. Charisma couldn’t help but smile. Yes, her association with Nico might prove interesting if she played her cards right.
She wore black velvet jeans and a gray cashmere sweater. Because it was an unseasonably warm night, she was able to get away with wearing a leather jacket.
Nico arrived promptly at seven. They dined at a little Italian restaurant in Manhattan called Sotto Voce. The veal parmigiana practically melted in her mouth. Afterward, they went to Serendipity for the frozen hot chocolate.
“This has been really nice,” she said to Nico over dessert.
“I hope this is just the first of many, Charisma.” He looked deeply into her eyes until she looked away.
“Time will tell,” she said simply.
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