by M. T. Pope
I was dressed to kill: black slacks and a simple black V-neck that made me look like a GQ fashion model. I also had on a very thin black scarf wrapped around my neck for accent. I carried my man-bag under my arm and casually made my way to the front door.
“Good day, sir. Do you have a reservation?” a nice-looking Latino guy asked me. He was a fine piece of meat, too. But he was the help and I wanted the owner, not the help. He was working his way up the ladder. I wanted the one who was in charge of the ladder.
“No, I’m sorry, but I don’t,” I said as I looked at him and smiled. “I am here on business with the owner. Could you tell him that I am here?” I was making this stuff up as I went along. I was quick on my feet. You had to be in this meat market called life.
“I’m sorry but our owner is a very busy man, he doesn’t like to be disturbed for anything.” He spoke confidently.
“Listen . . .” I read his name tag. “Juan is it? This is very important business that I am handling here and I don’t think that this is the right time to be holding up progress. This could get very ugly very fast.” I cautioned him as I looked at him dead in the eyes. He didn’t flinch. I needed to come up with another way to approach him because he was being such a hard ass. There were a few people lined up behind me and their impatience was showing on their faces as I glanced behind me briefly.
Before I could get another word out of my mouth, someone who I assumed was his boss walked up to see what the holdup was about. “What is going on here? What is the holdup?” he asked as he looked at Juan and then at me.
“This guy here wants to see the boss and I told him it is out of the question.” He looked at me sternly and then back at his boss.
“Sir, you are going to have to come back another time. This is a business and the owner doesn’t meet with anyone, and when he does he leaves specific instructions for us. I have none for today, so I need you to move out of line and exit this establishment.” He looked past me and waved a couple up as if he was dismissing me.
“I am here on the behalf of the advertising company that is doing a major campaign for Mateo Lopez, and I don’t think he would be too pleased to get a phone call from my boss if I step out of line and make a call that could end both of your jobs.” I looked at both of them sternly.
And then it happened. Mateo appeared out of nowhere. He was fine as I remembered seeing him and that was briefly.
“What’s going on?” He looked at his two employees.
“This guy here says he’s here on business to see you and we had no record of it.”
“Nice to meet you, Mateo.” I reached out to shake his hand.” My name is Lewis and I am here on the behalf of Bankable Advertising to get a feel for the color schemes and marketing angles we are going to be taking with your campaign.” I smiled brightly as he shook my hand back.
“Well, all right then. I am glad that you are here. Sorry about the hassle. I run a tight ship at all of my establishments and these two great fellows were just doing as I asked. I hope they didn’t offend you.” He was so fine that I almost couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying.
“I understand.” I held on to his hand a little longer than I should have. “We all have our jobs to do.”
“True. Let me get you a table so you can be seated.”
“Thank you,” I replied.
“Juan, please give these nice folks who are in line complimentary bottles of wine with each of their meals. Sorry for the wait, ladies and gents,” he said as he turned back toward me. “Mr. Lewis, follow me right this way.”
I was seated within a few seconds and I was already enjoying myself. I was so glad that I snuck and Googled his name on my cell phone, and got information on a few of his restaurants. The information superhighway was something else. Pictures of him at a few local events popped up as well. He was definitely a good catch.
“I’ll send the waiter over to assist you as soon as he is finished with another guest.” He smiled.
“If you don’t mind I would like to have a few words with you. Maybe you could be so nice as to have a seat with me so we can chat about business.” My eyes darted from his eyes to his crotch within a split second. I did it in a way so he could notice me doing it. I was serious about what I wanted. He looked like he was a keeper.
“Well, sure.” He smiled. “Give me a few minutes to handle some business in the back and I’ll be right back.”
“Sure. I have all the patience in the world,” I said and then he walked away.
“Wine, sir?” a waiter said as he walked up to me.
“Yes, which one is the one that you would consider the best?” I inquired.
“Our Cabernet Sauvignon is quite good, sir,” he remarked.
“Well, I’ll take that, sir.” I nodded politely.
“I’ll be back shortly.” He walked away.
I am so glad I did this. Since my boss’s stuffy ass didn’t want him I am going to snatch him up and keep him for my own.
A few moments went by and pretty soon the waiter had brought me my wine and Mateo was heading my way.
Damn his ass is fine . . . And he knows it. The way he walked, it demanded attention. His employees looked as if they feared him. I was sure he was about his business. He was in control. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he was into some illegal activities. I better not say that to him or even imply it though. I didn’t want to ruin any of my chances with him or perpetuate a stereotype or something.
He took a seat and then spoke. “I am glad you came down so quickly to get to work on my campaign. Your boss runs a very good company. I am impressed.”
“Yeah, he’s good,” I said, faking a smile. I didn’t hate my boss, just his “too good” attitude. I needed to prove a point and taking Mateo for myself was going to do the trick. I was a go-getter and Mateo was now on my “to get” list. “But I’m here to get to know more about you so I can get a feel for what you really want out of this campaign.”
“That is great. What did you need to know about me?” he asked.
“What does the name Mateo mean?”
“It means gift of God.” He smiled. “What does that have to do with the campaign?” He followed with another question.
“Nothing, it’s just a unique name and I was wondering what it meant. Is it true?” I smiled.
He laughed before he spoke. “Yes, it’s true to me.”
“I love confidence.” I spoke wholeheartedly. “It’s very sexy to me.”
“Oh, really?” He smiled again. He was very handsome and he had dimples, too. I had to have him.
“Yes, really. I love gifts of God and from God,” I answered.
“Me too, especially good-looking ones.” He was now openly flirting with me.
Got him! I know that was a flirt. It was time to reel him in. “Why thank you.” I blushed. “Let’s cut to the chase, are you seeing anyone? I’d like to get to know you better.” I spoke and looked him straight in the eyes.
“Straightforward, I see.” He chuckled. “I’m not attached at the moment. And I would love to get to know you better as well.”
“Well, I think my business is finished here.” I took one last sip of wine and slid my chair backward.
“Wait . . .” He stopped me in my tracks. “Here take my personal number. Give me a call so we can get together.” He winked.
After that I got up out of the chair and he did as well. He walked around the table and gave me a very strong hug. I almost didn’t let go. I could have stayed in his arms forever. He was so strong. His scent was strong and masculine. It made me weak.
I walked out of the restaurant feeling like a million dollars. I knew one day that I was going to be calling shots in his empire. I was going to win him over and then take over.
Chapter 13
Kardell
Moving On
As soon as I got in the house my house phone started ringing off the hook. It was my father. I so didn’t want to answer it but I hadn’t talked to him in
a minute so I picked up. “Hello.”
“Hey, son, how is life treating you?”
“Everything is good, and you?”
“Well, son, your old dad needs a favor.”
“Sure, Dad,” I answered, unsure of the favor.
“I need a couple hundred bucks to pay some bills off. I’m in between money right now.”
“When did you need it by?”
“Tomorrow would be fine.”
Tomorrow I scheduled myself late so I just told him I would meet him for breakfast at one of my favorite eateries. We hung up the phone within seconds. Again, as I said before, my father and I didn’t have a real relationship. He was in and out of my life as a child and teenager, which was very hard for me to handle. Having only my mom to go to when I had issues that only a male figure could help me out with didn’t help me get through my teenage years easier. Sometimes I’d felt that I wouldn’t be gay if he had been there to guide me when I needed him the most. I now knew that him not being in my life had nothing to do with me being gay. From what my mom told me, which was very little, my dad had some issues and she had some self-esteem issues. She said that was the reason she took him back and put him out on numerous occasions. I felt like she was hiding something because my mom was a very vocal person and she said what she had to say and moved on. I assumed, like a lot of people, she was vocal about what she wanted to be vocal about. She never went into detail when talking about their issues and she always managed to detour conversation into something else when the topic arose. I was sure the truth would come out eventually. It always does.
Enough about my parents and my issues, it’s time for me to go to bed. I have an early day and a busy one indeed. Thank goodness it’s Friday and I am the boss, because I’m getting in late and leaving early; a wonderful advantage to being the boss. I didn’t do it or get to do it often so I was going to enjoy it.
I noticed I had a few messages on my answering service, but I decided I would listen to them when I got out of the shower and prepared myself for bed. I turned on some Anita Baker and soaked in the tub for about a half hour before retiring to my bed. I was exhausted, and it seemed like as soon as I toweled myself off and put on my pajamas I was in my waterbed, savoring the softness of my satin sheets.
I quickly rolled over and picked up my cordless phone, and dialed the code to retrieve my messages. The first one was from my mother, telling me she loved me and that I needed to call her more because I was going to miss her when she was gone. She did this to make me feel guilty. It worked every time. I’d call her tomorrow while I was at work. The next one was from Ronald. Yes, he was still calling me. I listened to the message. He missed me . . . He was sorry . . . Could he come over . . . yadda yadda yadda . . . Delete. That was enough for me to hang up, roll over, and go to sleep.
I woke up Friday morning totally refreshed. I decided I would dress down. Blue jeans and a button up would suffice. I was only going to meet my father and head to work for a few hours. Showered, shaved, and dressed, I headed out the door after feeding Grey. I hopped in my Volvo and sped off toward my destination.
I arrived downtown at about nine-thirty in the morning and was anxious to get this father/son gathering done and over with. I was curious as to what “bills” my father had to pay, but I was not going to ask because as an adult and as a man I didn’t like to be questioned, and I was sure my father didn’t like that either, especially by his offspring.
I parked my car a block or two away from the restaurant and walked until I could see my father sitting in a chair with one of his legs folded on top of the other, and he was in deep conversation on his cell phone.
“Yeah, Lee, I’m about to handle some business, so I am going to get back with you in a little bit. Yeah . . . Yeah . . . Yeah.” He nodded his head while he talked. Then his voice began to escalate. “I told you I got you. Now give me some time.” I sat down as he hung up the phone and set it down on the table.
My father was an enigma and to this day I still didn’t have him figured out. I didn’t know where he lived or worked. I’d never seen anybody he’d dated nor had he talked about anyone. He would pop up from time to time at my house or my mom’s house and hang out and disappear just as fast as he came. When I looked at my father, I could see where I got my handsome features. He was a shade lighter than me, same height with brown eyes and a medium build. He had sprinkled gray hair in his beard and head. I wished he and I could have the relationship that my sister had with my mom.
“Hey, son, come give your old man a hug.” He got up as well as I and proceeded to hug me. His hug was one that was genuine and I could feel the love. Or maybe it was that I wanted it to be genuine.
We both sat back down and looked at the menus, avoiding conversation. What did we have to talk about? Where would I start? I can’t just come out and ask him where the hell he has been and why he hasn’t been there when I needed him. I really don’t know what his reaction would be and I may not be prepared for the answers that might be given.
“Son, I just want to say thanks for coming to my rescue.” he said, putting his menu down and focusing on me. “I know I don’t call you as much as I should. And I don’t come by like I should, but I will get better at it, okay? I promise.” He looked sincere, but so many men in my life were deceivers that I could not be sure if he was telling the truth. This could just be an empty promise like he has done before.
He continued, “I just want you to know I am proud of you. I know I might not say it like I should more often, but I am. And um . . . I love you, son. I couldn’t have asked for a better son than you.” He was smiling a big, beaming smile. I was beginning to believe him. A tear slide out of my eye and I quickly wiped it away, hoping he didn’t see it.
“Anytime, Dad,” was all I could blurt out, trying to get past the moment. There was a small pause, so I decided to break it. “Well, Dad, let’s get something to eat, because I have to make it to a meeting at work in about forty-five minutes.” Yeah, it was a lie, but I couldn’t handle the tension at the table.
We ordered some light breakfast and chitchatted a little bit in between bites. He asked me how I was doing and how the “man in my life” was treating me. That was one thing I could say, he never ever showed judgment or shame because of me being gay. I still couldn’t get used to him asking about it either. It was just weird. My sister and mother rarely discussed it, but he was nonchalant about it. I guessed he really did care. I shared with him about my recent breakup and quickly changed the subject. I asked him who he was seeing. He said he had no one special in his life.
After about a half hour of breakfast we went our separate ways. I decided to walk to work since I was already downtown and it was only a few blocks away. It was a bright and sunny day; the breeze was blowing through my dreads. It was late spring and I loved the cool, crisp air. It was good to be alive.
I popped my earphone from my iPod Touch in my ear. Sounds of Whitney Houston’s I Look to You album played in my ear as I made my way to work. It was one of my favorites.
I was walking at a good pace, enjoying myself and loving the single life. I had a tendency of not watching where I was going and walking into people, which I happened to do as I rounded the corner to my office.
“Excuse me.” I shuffled to the side. I was watching a cutie across the street, too, and was paying no attention to who I had bumped into.
“Yeah, Excuse you,” a familiar voice spoke.
I focused my eyes and they landed on Ronald. I can’t duck dude for nothing!
“Ump . . . ump . . . ump.” He circled me, looking me up and down simultaneously. I took my earplug out of my ear in irritation.
“Damn, you still got it!” He walked up to me and breathed on my neck. “You miss me?” he whispered in my ear. His hot breath eased down the inside of my collar. I looked around, embarrassed. He had on a wife beater and some Capri jeans with tan sandals that showed off some of his taut calf muscles.
“Yeah . . . like I miss hav
ing pneumonia.” I laughed and walked past him toward my job. He didn’t let it go as he ran up to me a few short feet away.
“How come you didn’t call me back?” He softly pushed me up against a wall that was near my building. The look in his eyes was intense and wandering over my face. He always made a scene when he came around. I looked around to see if anyone was looking. As usual, the Baltimoreans were looking, but no one said anything. He could have been beating my ass and no one would have done a thing. At times, I was one of them, so I couldn’t really get mad at them for just looking on in anticipation. They were always waiting for something to pop off and spread around the office. This city is so backward.
“Ronald, what we had was over weeks ago.” I pushed him off and moved toward my office again. I was not for this mess today. “I’ve moved on.”
“You moved on, huh?” He looked a little hurt. I felt sorry, but not sorry enough to take him back. “It was that easy, huh?”
“No, it wasn’t that easy!” I huffed. “It took some time, but I’m over it. I forgave you and then I moved on.”
“So you really over me?” he posed. His hands were stuffed in his pockets. I could have sworn I saw a tear in his eye.
“Yes, sir,” I answered.
“Well, okay then,” he grumbled. “If that’s what you want. I’ll see you around.” He turned and walked off as fast as he came. I sighed in relief. I was finally rid of him.
I walked into my office building, spoke hello to the building security and then made my way toward the elevator to my floor. My office was on the fourth floor, so on the ride up I took a minute to let out a few needed tears. Am I really over him? was what I was really wondering. I hated myself for being so weak.
