“He was married. Now he’s divorced.”
“Any children?”
“No. Anyway, when I saw him earlier this year, he said he’s finally ready to start dating again. I instantly thought of you, but you were seeing Tony. Now you’re both available. So why don’t we all get together for dinner and a movie, and you two can meet?”
Tangie just looked at her.
“Come on, Tangie. You said you were ready to get back in the game. I’m holding you to it.” Charisma stood as Maria called her for her shampoo.
“All right. You talked me into it. Set it up,” Tangie said before she lost her nerve. Then she headed over to Daisy’s chair for caramel highlights.
The next few days Tangie debated canceling her date with Jordan. Luckily, Charisma was going too so there would be no blind-date pressure. She picked up Tangie and the two headed over to the Midway Theater on Queens Boulevard for a movie.
It was a balmy, early June evening. As they waited in front of the theater to see Sanaa Lathan’s latest romantic comedy, Charisma made small talk.
“I know you get highlights every summer, but these are awesome. You are one hot mama.”
“Thanks,” Tangie told her. “Nice try. I know you’re trying to distract me, but if he’s not here in five minutes, I’m out.”
Just as Tangie looked up, Jordan appeared, and Charisma made the introductions.
“Tangie,” he said slowly. “And that’s short for . . .”
“Tangela,” she replied.
“I like that,” he admitted. “May I call you Tangela?”
“Tangie is fine,” she insisted, vowing that no other man would be allowed to call her by her full name ever again.
“Hey, no problem,” he said simply.
Tangie couldn’t help but mentally compare Jordan to Tony—his height, his build, his features, the way he dressed.
She could go on and on. The two stood shoulder to shoulder, and that was with Tangie’s modest two-inch sandals. Instead, she smiled and shook his hand. Jordan seemed pleased to meet her. He held her hand just a moment longer than necessary, gazing intently into her eyes. Uncomfortable, Tangie was the first to look away.
Jordan insisted on paying for the movie, despite protests from Tangie and Charisma. He also bought a huge tub of buttered popcorn and three sodas. They found seats just as the trailers began. Tangie sat in the middle. Charisma and Tangie exchanged glances throughout the movie. Jordan seemed oblivious, caught up in Sanaa’s beauty.
Afterward, they walked the short distance to Friday’s on Austin Street for a bite to eat. Tangie was friendly, but not overly so toward Jordan. As Tangie sipped her second mudslide, she checked out the scene around her. Having not had a decent meal that day, she was getting a buzz from the alcohol. She bit into a buffalo wing to calm her stomach. She looked up and both Charisma and Jordan were staring at her as if waiting for an answer.
Charisma quickly caught Tangie up. “Jordan has tickets to the Alicia Keys concert at the Garden on Sunday. Interested?”
As much as Tangie loved Alicia Keys, deciding was like a mental tennis match. Should she or shouldn’t she? “I’d love to,” she said finally. Her mama didn’t raise no fool, and she had tried for weeks to get tickets. By popular demand a third show had been added for Sunday afternoon, and Jordan was lucky enough to get tickets before they sold out.
“Alicia’s the bomb. Her shows are awesome. You two’ll have a great time,” Charisma said.
Aw shit. Tangie had assumed Charisma was going too. What had she gotten herself into?
Tangie found out soon enough. Jordan picked her up in a late-model Maxima badly in need of a paint job. It was a far cry from the sleek silver dream machine Tony had chauffeured her around town in and occasionally let her drive. She knew better than to judge a man by his ride, but once you get used to a Benz, anything else just didn’t cut it. She thanked God for small miracles. At least the car wasn’t smoking.
They took the Midtown Tunnel into Manhattan. Traffic was moderately light for an early Sunday afternoon except for a brief rubbernecking incident by LaGuardia Airport. Luckily, they got to Madison Square Garden with plenty of time to spare. The line for the performance was all the way around the block.
Tangie and Jordan were seated, and the air-conditioning came as a welcome relief. Jordin Sparks was the opening act, and Alicia strutted onstage to a standing ovation. For two and a half hours she wowed the audience with their old favorites as well as a few cuts from her soon-to-bereleased CD. She was definitely a class act. Tangie was floored by her talent and style as was the sold-out crowd.
Jordan said as much to Tangie as they left the Garden. “Whew, she is something else! Feel like a bite to eat?”
“Okay. Where to?”
“How about Junior’s? If we’re lucky, we can eat alfresco.”
“You want to go to Brooklyn?” she asked, surprised.
“No, there’s one in Times Square.”
“Lead the way,” she said simply, looking forward to a slice of the world-famous cheesecake.
It was a gorgeous day, perfect for a stroll up Seventh Avenue. Before long they were inside the theater district eatery. Jordan gave his name to the host and immediately requested a table outside. It was such a lovely afternoon that they had to wait, but it was well worth it.
They ordered drinks and split a huge brisket of beef sandwich. Tangie had to admit that the date turned out better than she expected. A lot better.
“So how was your date with Jordan?” Charisma asked Tangie Monday night over the phone.
“Not bad. We’re going out again this weekend.”
“Oh yeah, where to?”
“Out to Westbury to see Stephanie Mills and Brian McKnight.”
“Nice.”
“Yeah, and you know who loves Stephanie Mills,” Tangie said, matter-of-factly.
“Uh-huh, I remember. Tony’s her number-one fan.”
Charisma changed the subject. “You know what I love about the early stages of dating? There are no expectations. Just two people getting to know one another and enjoying each other’s company. So go and have a good time.”
“That’s the plan,” Tangie said.
“And it beats sitting home watching Martin reruns.”
“I don’t know, Charisma. Some of those episodes are hilarious.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Point taken. Have you talked to Heather lately?”
“She called me yesterday. She wants to make sure we’re still on for breakfast Saturday at her house. She said you two have been playing phone tag.”
“Tell her breakfast on Saturday is fine if you talk to her before I do.”
“See you Saturday.”
Tangie hung up, feeling hopeful. Jordan wasn’t Tony, not by a long shot. He didn’t have that wow factor, but he seemed like a nice man.
She said as much to Heather and Charisma over breakfast Saturday morning. Heather’s spread included scrambled eggs with cheese, bacon, home fries, bran muffins, coffee, and orange juice.
“I just have one question for you,” Heather said. “Do you still read Tony’s horoscope?” Heather believed that if you still read your ex’s horoscope you weren’t over him yet.
Tangie hesitated only slightly as she helped herself to more home fries. “Sometimes.”
“Well, you’re almost there, girl.” Heather smiled.
Charisma smelled something burning. “Is the stove still on?” she asked.
“Oh my gosh. I almost forgot about the baked apples.”
Heather jumped up and ran to the stove to turn it off. They were burnt to a crisp. “Oh well, sorry,” she apologized, scraping out the pot and filling it with water from the sink.
“It’s okay,” Tangie said as Heather returned to the table.
“Don’t worry about it,” Charisma added. “There’s enough here for a feast. As it is, I’ve popped a couple of buttons.”
Charisma and Tangie were stuffed to
the gills by the time they got up from the table. They waddled back to the living room, where they collapsed. Heather had eaten lightly.
“What time is the concert? Eight o’clock?” she asked.
“Yeah, Jordan’s picking me up at seven,” Tangie said.
“So are you just taking it easy till then?” Charisma asked her.
“Uh-huh. I don’t know what to wear, though,” Tangie admitted.
“Maybe my white linen pantsuit.”
“Good choice,” Heather said. “If I had your figure, girrrl. Thank goodness I only have breakfasts like this once a month.”
“I know the feeling,” Charisma said.
“Well, whatever you wear, look good. You never know what the night has in store for you,” Heather told her.
Tangie took a nice, long bath to relax her mind and wash away the stress of the day. Then, she polished her skin with her favorite perfume and scented lotion. She tried on three different outfits before she decided on a little black dress with white piping and a peekaboo keyhole. Her fresh caramel highlights popped against her sun-kissed skin. As she checked herself out in her bedroom’s full-length mirror, she had to admit that she looked pretty good.
Jordan called to say he was running a little late but that he was on his way. He picked her up about twenty minutes later, and his eyes lit up when she answered the door. Yep, she had dotted every I and crossed her Ts.
The concert was sold out. Some chick in the slow-moving entrance line turned around and rolled her eyes at Tangie.
Tangie, in turn, gave her a don’t-hate-me-because-I’m-beautiful look. The girl turned back around and tossed her hair.
A comedian opened the show and though Tangie and Jordan missed the beginning of his act, the parts they saw had them in tears, crying for mercy. By the time he walked off the stage, it took Brian McKnight only a few moments to appear. How many times had she and Tony made love listening to “What’s My Name?” The memories hurt her heart.
He sang for an hour before relinquishing the stage to Stephanie Mills. The second she stepped onstage, the crowd went wild.
“Hello, New York,” she said in response before her petite, energetic frame belted out hit after hit after hit. Brian joined her briefly for “Feel the Fire,” the hit she made famous with Teddy Pendergrass. Then she sang two more hits before a standing ovation and chants of Stephanie carried her off the stage.
Jordan grabbed Tangie’s hand, and they made a mad dash for the exit, anxious to leave the building. After a slow migration they reached the parking lot and got inside Jordan’s Maxima.
What Tangie saw next out of the corner of her eye made her do a double take, taking her breath away. It was Tony. He was helping some woman into his car before walking around to the driver’s side. Just as he was about to get in, he turned his head ever so slightly to the left, and that’s when he spotted Tangie.
Their eyes locked. They were so close that with the window rolled down, Tangie could smell his aftershave.
Tony spoke first. ‘Tangela, how are you?”
“I’m good,” she said, just a little too cheerful. “This is Jordan.”
“Jordan, this is Tony, an old friend of mine.” Tangie hoped the spark in her eyes wasn’t too obvious.
“Nice to meet you,” Tony said. “This is Olivia.” Olivia leaned forward in the passenger’s seat. “Hello,” she said simply.
Tangie smiled. “Great concert, huh?”
“You know Stephanie’s my girl,” Tony agreed. “She never disappoints.”
“That’s for sure,” Jordan added.
“You take care,” Tony said, easing into his Benz and starting the engine. He trailed Jordan briefly before driving off on his own.
Tangie calmed herself as best she could, but her mind, not to mention her heart, was racing like a thoroughbred. She knew she was bound to bump into Tony sooner or later, but yet she wasn’t prepared for it. And who the hell was Olivia? Was she his date for the evening or something more? Tangie hadn’t gotten that good a look at her, but just the fact that she was with Tony was enough to upset her equilibrium. Big-time. Had Tony told his latest that they were once engaged? Did Olivia even give a damn? It was easy to be smug when you were a man’s latest “it” girl, but how quickly things could change. Tangie learned that from experience. Life had a way of wiping that smirk right off your face.
“Seems like a nice guy,” Jordan said.
Chewing her lip, Tangie said nothing.
“I need to see you,” Tangie told Tony over the phone the next morning, her eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night, her hands moist with emotion.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her.
“What’s your schedule look like today?”
“I’m working today, Tangela. Is this an emergency?”
“Yes.”
“How about if we meet after work?”
“Your place or mine?” she asked.
“I’m working in Jamaica today. Let’s meet on neutral ground. Say Montebello Park?”
“That’ll work. What time?”
“Is five-thirty good for you?”
“That’s fine, Tony. See you then.” Tangie hung up, silently thanking God for another chance at happiness. Though it was only 7:10 on a Sunday morning, she got up, unable to squeeze another ounce of sleep out of her now wide-awake eyes. She sat on the edge of the bed, swinging her legs back and forth.
First, she got up and cleaned the house, mopping the kitchen floor, vacuuming, and dusting the living room and dining room. Then, she did the bathroom tile, the tub, toilet, and the face bowl. Finally, she mopped the bathroom floor and took a break. It was only ten-thirty. Three hours down, seven more to go.
Next, Tangie decided to draw herself a bath and soak. She added a generous amount of bath gel to the running water, and soon the room’s scent brought a smile to her face. She removed her pajamas, threw them in the hamper, and stepped into liquid perfection. She laid there for a moment, her eyes shut, just enjoying the warmth. It didn’t get much better than this. She gently washed her body like the treasured possession it was. It had given her much joy and pleasure over the years, and standing in the bathroom mirror afterward, she inspected herself with pride. Tangie lotioned her body until it glistened like silk. She put on a pair of denim shorts and a white I Love New York T-shirt, before piling her hair up on her head and going into the kitchen. She whipped up some homemade blueberry muffins and a peanut butter banana smoothie. After Heather’s breakfast yesterday, she had to watch her calories. Another hour down.
Suddenly, it occurred to her that Tony may want to come back for dinner. She checked her cupboards and fridge and made a quick list. She stuffed her wristlet with her driver’s license and registration, keys, and a few bills and headed for the grocery store. She bought the fixings for pepper steak, summer squash, and that pasta dish Tony loved so much. Then, she stopped next door at the liquor store and got all the ingredients for a martini pop.
When Tangie got home, she put the groceries away, popped some CDs in the stereo, and poured herself a glass of wine. She sat up on her couch and imagined all that the evening with Tony could hold. Her mind raced with possibilities, starting with if onlys and ending in buts. Before she knew it, Tony was calling her to say he was just getting off work, and that he’d see her in half an hour.
Tangie went to her jewelry box, put on a pair of tricolor hoops, ran her fingers through her hair, and applied lip gloss. She took one final look at herself in the mirror before meeting Tony in Montebello Park.
She drove down Springfield Boulevard with the windows down, smiling to herself at the sounds of children’s laughter, motorcycles, and other sounds of summer. Shortly after she parked and got out of her car, Tony pulled up behind her. He must have just gotten his ride washed because it was buffed to a high sheen, reminding Tangie of the hooptie she had ridden in last night. Tony was humming a cut from Stephanie Mills’s latest CD, and as he leaned over to hug Tangie, she could detect his favorite a
ftershave. Just the hint of it on his collar made her weak in the knees, forcing her to practically collapse like a deck of cards. He steadied her in his arms, and for a split second it felt like old times.
They walked to the table area and sat across from one another. Her second favorite man, Mister Softee, had pulled up and a group of children and their mothers had gathered around the ice cream truck. Tangie watched them intensely, biding time and trying to decide where to begin.
Finally, she spoke. “Didn’t take long to replace me, huh?”
He shook his head. “Don’t do this, Tangela.” He kept looking around as if he was a security guard doing surveillance.
“No, I mean, it’s been—what, a few months—and already you’ve moved on?”
“I could say the same for you,” he said.
“Jordan’s just a friend.”
“So is Olivia.”
“How do I know that?” she asked. “Tell me anything. I’m black.” They both burst out laughing, easing the tension.
“Tell me about her,” she said.
“What’s to tell?” he began. “We’ve been seeing each other for about a month, nothing serious. We’re just taking things one day at a time.”
“So how’d you meet her?”
“We met at the supermarket.”
“Which one?” she asked.
“Why? Does it matter? She’s a nice lady and—”
“You used to think I was nice too, once upon a time.”
“I still think you’re nice,” he admitted, eyeing a black car suspiciously.
“Then why?”
“Tell me about Jordan.” He changed the subject.
“I met Jordan through Charisma. He’s a CPA. He’s very attentive and kind.”
“How long have you been seeing him?”
“We’ve only dated a few times. He’s divorced.”
“Any kids?”
“No, from what Charisma says, he’s really interested in me.”
“That’s exactly what you need. So what’s the problem?”
“You still don’t get it.” She rolled her eyes.
Cheesecake and Teardrops Page 27
