“Whatever. I just know the faster you old-school playas get out the game, the more honeys there will be for me.”
Everybody roared at that.
“Man, if you don’t get your rookie butt outta here,” Taariq said. “You still got breast milk on your breath and you up in here thinking you a real playa.”
Bobby’s face darkened with embarrassment. “C’mon now. Stop frontin’.”
“Yeah, man,” Hylan stepped in and corrected Taariq. “He’s been grown for at least two weeks.”
The guys cracked up again, including Herman.
The shop’s bell rang again and Stanley strolled inside with his customary wide smile. None of the regulars called the lanky redhead by his first name. Instead, they affectionately called Stanley “Breadstick” and sometimes “Whitey,” probably because Stanley was the only white man to get his hair cut at Herman’s.
“Yo, everybody, whassup?” Stanley greeted, acting more black than everybody else. At this point, everyone was used to it and welcomed him into the fold just the same.
“I know one thing,” Bobby said. “I’m getting more action than this dude.”
There was another roar of laughter, and Stanley tried to play off his confusion by laughing along with everyone else.
Herman shook his head. “Boys still playing at being men.”
The guys pretended not to hear him, but in no time Herman felt like preaching. “You know ya’ll need to take a page out of your friend Derrick’s book.”
Right on cue, the bell rang again and Derrick entered the shop.
“Speaking of the devil,” Hylan said and waited as Derrick made his way over to them.
Derrick tossed everyone a slow nod.
“Now this one finally got it right and settled down,” Herman said, pointing a firm finger at Derrick.
“Whoa. Whoa. What did I miss?”
“I was about to tell your friends about how nothing good can come from playing the field with all these different women. One of these days you’re gonna roll up on the wrong one. Charlie already got one vandalizing his car. He’s just one step away from taking a hot grits shower. If you don’t believe me, ask Al Green.”
“Who?” Bobby asked.
“Lawd, Lawd, please help these knuckleheads running around here—starting with my own.”
Charlie smiled. Once Herman got started there was no stopping him.
“I’m going to agree with Herman,” Derrick said.
Charlie and the rest of the Kappa brothers rolled their eyes. Derrick had been siding with Herman ever since he’d said ‘I do’.
“Be still,” Herman warned Charlie and then clicked back on his trimmers.
“For real,” Derrick said, easing his hands into his pockets and rocking on his heels next to Hylan. “I don’t regret a single moment once I finally turned in my playa’s card.”
“That’s right.” The trimmers were clicked off again. “There’s nothing better than the love of one special woman. A man needs peace in his house—in his life.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Taariq droned, unconvinced.
“Mark my words. You learn sooner or later.”
Herman’s speech stayed with Charlie for the rest of the day while he thought about his past relationships. And there were a lot. With the clock ticking maybe it was time he tried to set things right.
There’s nothing better than the love of one special woman.
Each time Herman’s voice repeated those words, Gisella floated to the forefront of his mind. But just as quickly, he would shake off the image. That avenue was closed. If Dr. Weiner’s diagnosis held, then the last thing he needed to be starting was a relationship. He needed to start focusing on making peace with his past.
As Charlie made it back to his apartment building, his thoughts muddled together. Tonight, he would pull out his thick little black book and start making some calls. Hell, it just might take him the whole six months to call them all.
When Charlie slipped his key into the apartment door and stepped inside, he received another shock of his life. Sucking in a breath, his eyes roamed across busted furniture, shattered glass and the word asshole scrawled across his white walls in red spray paint.
“Who in the hell is this chick?”
Chapter 9
Gisella’s business was booming.
Word of mouth from Charlie’s surprise birthday party continued to spread like wild fire. And now Waqueisha kept calling with outrageously large orders to fill for people in Atlanta’s entertainment industry.
After running around like a chicken with its head cut off, she realized that she did need help and took Isabella up on her offer.
“Trust me,” Isabella boasted. “By this time next year, Ms. Winfrey will be naming your chocolates as one of her favorite things.”
Smiling, Gisella shook her head. “When you dream, you dream big, don’t you?”
“You just concentrate on making your wonderful treats, and leave the business end to me.”
Gisella drew a deep breath and resolved to do just that. The two new business partners huddled together over her sister’s dining-room table and discussed everything from hiring more help to balancing their budget. The task was made a little difficult with Sasha constantly jumping on the table and waiting to be petted.
Finally, around ten o’clock, Derrick started blowing up Isabella’s cell phone and urging her to come home.
On his fourth call, Gisella smiled at her new partner. “We better call it night,” Gisella said.
Isabella agreed, though it was clear she was still excited about this latest career change. “I’ll see you bright and early at the shop,” she said, giving Gisella a final hug at the door.
When she turned to leave, Gisella could no longer ignore the anxious knot looping in her stomach. “Um…”
Isabella stopped with her hand frozen on the door. “Yes?”
Suddenly feeling foolish, Gisella shifted her weight nervously from side to side. “I was wondering if, um, you heard from Charlie again.”
A single brow inched higher towards the center of Isabella’s forehead. “Not since we saw him at the bank Friday.”
Gisella nodded and swallowed the lump in the center of her throat.
“Why?” Isabella pressed.
Unable to stop the heat from rushing into her face, Gisella’s brain short-circuited while she tried to come up with a sufficient excuse for her inquiry. When all she could manage was to bump her gums in silence, a knowing smile eased across Isabella’s face.
“You like him, don’t you?”
No. Just say no. “He’s…interesting.”
Isabella snickered. “I think that’s putting it mildly—especially after that weird episode at the bank.”
“Well, you definitely gave that loan officer a good piece of your mind,” Gisella said, laughing.
“After I’d finally recovered from my shock. Poor Charlie. I just know he was humiliated.”
“Well.” Gisella tilted her head, hedging. “Are we sure that he didn’t deserve it? I mean…I’ve heard rumors.”
Isabella drew a deep breath and Gisella thought that maybe she shouldn’t be questioning her about a friend. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—I mean, forget I said anything.”
“No. No. It’s fine,” Isabella assured her. “I mean…Charlie does have quite a reputation. A lot of it is true, unfortunately.” She took another breath. “Of course, Derrick had the same reputation, too, before we met.”
Gisella nodded and remembered the covetous glances women made toward the handsome Derrick Knight at the party. She also remembered how he only had eyes for his wife. “You’re a lucky woman.”
“I am,” Isabella agreed, blushing. “There’s not a morning I don’t wake up and pinch myself.”
Gisella relished finding another hopeless romantic. “My sister seems to think there aren’t any good single men out here anymore. She’s given up.”
Isabella cocked her head. “What about you?”
> “Me?” Gisella echoed.
“Yeah, you. Has your ex turned you off to finding true love?”
“Tell her,” Fantasy Charlie whispered against her ear.
“No.” Gisella cleared her throat. “Of course not.”
Fantasy Charlie chuckled and brushed a kiss against the back of her neck.
“Good,” Isabella said. “I’m glad to hear it. I truly believe that if I could find true love, then surely someone as beautiful as you should have no problem.”
Gisella frowned at the odd comment.
“And don’t let the rumors about Charlie dissuade you.”
“You should listen to the girl.” Fantasy Charlie moved next to Isabella and folded his arms.
“Charlie is like a big kid. A lot of the women he’s dated act like little girls. They just keep putting his favorite toys in front of him and then act shocked when someone with newer or bigger toys lures him away.”
“She has an interesting way of putting things,” Charlie said.
Gisella giggled.
Isabella smiled. “What I mean is, Charlie will act more like a man when he meets a real woman. Does that make sense?”
Fantasy Charlie shook his head. “No.”
“It makes perfect sense,” Gisella answered and then gave Isabella another departing hug. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
After Isabella left the apartment, Gisella closed the door and slumped back against it.
“I thought she would never leave,” Fantasy Charlie said, easing up to her and brushing a kiss along her neck. “What do you say we go back to the bedroom and have a little fun?”
Gisella glanced up at him, thinking over Isabella’s words about the real Charlie being a big kid. “Not tonight. I have a headache.”
“Do you know anyone who’d want to do this to you, sir?” Officer Todd asked, with his notepad and pen in hand.
“Not off the top of my head,” Charlie grumbled and massaged his throbbing temples. He took another hard look around his ransacked apartment and felt the blood boil in his veins.
“You said that you filed another police report yesterday about your car being vandalized?”
Charlie nodded and couldn’t help but feel he’d been cast into some pathetic B-movie horror flick.
Officer Todd frowned. “Are you sure you can’t think of anyone, sir? Perhaps an ex-wife or old girlfriend…or boyfriend?”
“What?”
“Sorry—but we never know. Since nothing was stolen, clearly this was a crime of passion.”
Charlie flashed the man an irritated glare. “I’m not gay, and I’ve never been married.”
“And your old girlfriends?” the officer asked undaunted.
“That’s obviously a different matter,” Charlie said, exhaling a long breath, racing through a list in his mind. When no woman stood out in his mind, a painful throbbing at his temples began to hammer double time. “I’ll have to get back to you on that one.”
“All right.” Officer Todd scribbled a few more notes on his notepad and then handed Charlie a card. “Just give us a call if you’re able to think of anything else.”
“Sure thing.” Charlie slid the card into his pocket and then held the door open while the officer and his partner made their exit. Once they were gone, he shut the door and took another disheartening look at the damage before him.
With no other choice, Charlie rolled up his sleeves and got busy cleaning. Hours later, he gave up and decided the job was going to require real professionals. Close to midnight he limped over to the bar and found one unbroken bottle of Jack Daniels and poured himself a drink.
It took three before he was completely relaxed.
“An ex-girlfriend or boyfriend.” He laughed. Hell, what else was he going to do? As he continued to survey the damage, he reflected over his cavalier lifestyle and the numerous one-night stands. Up until now, he’d viewed it all as harmless fun. He’d never made or broken any promises, nor had he asked for any in return. He always made sure his dates had a great time, and then they were free to go on their merry separate ways.
Maybe he had been too naive.
Charlie stood up from the bar and hobbled to his bedroom—another disaster area. At least he was able to clear off a space on the bed so he’d have some place to sleep tonight. He reached underneath the mattress and hoped what he was searching for was still there. He panicked for a moment, but then his hand finally brushed against the spine of a book.
Smiling, Charlie set his whiskey down on the nightstand and pulled out his thick little black book. Such a book was the hallmark of every true playa. His didn’t just contain the names and numbers of the beautiful women who’d been so gracious with their time and bodies, but also notes and a very intricate rating system he’d conjured up in high school.
The book was his most treasured possession.
He flipped through the pages, and a flutter of memories danced before his eyes. If the good Lord did decide his time was up, Charlie realized he’d lived one hell of a life—just not a complete one.
Charlie’s smile disappeared as a lump of regret clogged his throat and reality hit him hard. Obviously, he had broken a few hearts over the years, and if he was facing the end of his life maybe he should be using this time to right a few wrongs.
He returned to the first page of his black book and read the first name—Abby. “Three and a half stars.” That wasn’t too bad, he thought and picked up the phone.
As he dialed, he thought briefly about what he would say. He drew a blank while the line rang but before he could hang up, a woman answered.
“Hello.”
“Uh, hello.” He clutched the phone. “Is, um, Abby there?”
“This is she.”
“Oh, Abby.” He cleared his throat and tried to control a wave of panic. “This is, um, Charlie—Charlie Masters. You probably don’t remember me—”
“Charlie Masters!” She perked up. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe it’s you.”
He smiled at the reception. Maybe this won’t be so hard after all.
“My goodness.” She sighed. “How have you been?”
“Not so good. I’m dying.” He blurted and then smacked a hand across his forehead.
“What?”
“That didn’t come out right.”
“You mean…” She gasped.
Charlie immediately knew she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. “No. No. No. No. It’s not what you thinking,” he rushed to say. “I don’t have a sexually transmitted disease,” he stressed. “It’s not that at all.”
“What, then?” she asked, obviously confused. “Is it cancer?”
“No.” He exhaled again and felt his migraine return. “It’s aplastic anemia.”
“It’s a plastic what?”
“It’s just a rare form of anemia.”
The line fell silent.
“Hello? Are you there?”
“Oookay,” she said hesitantly. “Sooo, why are you calling?”
“Well.” He cleared his throat. “I was doing a lot of thinking, and I wanted apologize for, uh…” He looked down at his notes in the book. “Standing you up that time.”
“You mean…senior prom?”
Charlie frowned and squinted down at the book. Apparently his intricate system didn’t include dates. “Yeah, well. Again…sorry.”
There was another long silence.
“So, I’ll let you go. It was nice talking to you.” He quickly disconnected the call. “Real smooth,” he said, rolling his eyes and reaching for his drink again.
Still, he thought after a moment, it didn’t go too bad. He probably just needed to tighten up his speech a bit and try to just concentrate on the women outside of high school.
Charlie glanced at the clock and realized that it was getting late. He picked up the book again. Tomorrow he would call Allison…and Anna.
Chapter 10
“Is this some kind of joke?” Allison asked, frowning at him over her Belgian wa
ffle.
Charlie glanced around the Georgia Diner, smiled at a few people he suspected were eavesdropping and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “No. It’s no joke,” he said, praying there wouldn’t be an explosion. He had no idea what possessed him to do this in person. It might have had a lot to do with the fact that he’d generally liked Allison. Once he remembered who she was.
They’d met in a public library. She had her nose buried in a mystery book. He was struggling with a term paper.
Allison was kind and nurturing. However, she was also a tad bit clingy and had a habit of laughing like a hyena.
“You mean you weren’t a secret agent for the CIA?”
Oh, yeah…she was a little gullible, too.
“Sorry,” he said, cringing. “I’m afraid not.”
“What about that elaborate story about a covert mission to bring down the Hawaiian Mafia in New Jersey?”
Hawaiian Mafia? “Never been to New Jersey.”
Allison lowered her fork and eased back in her chair. “So, what? I’m supposed to feel sorry for you because now you’re about to kick the bucket? Is that it?”
“Not exactly.” He shifted in his chair. “I just want to apologize and bring closure if you thought that I’ve done anything to—”
“Unbelievable!” Allison crossed her arms. “The only reason I slept with you was because I thought I had a patriotic and civil duty. You said you were leaving for a top secret mission in Mauritania and that you may not survive. I thought you were dead for the last fourteen years?”
Charlie cocked his head, thinking she was taking this a bit too far. “C’mon. That is not why you slept with me.”
Allison rolled her eyes, but a smile teased the corners of her lips. “So what’s the play this time? You have six months to live, and now you want me to take you back to my place for one last fling?”
Leaning his elbow on the table, Charlie pinched the bridge of his nose. “No. That’s not it.”
“Oh,” she said, disappointment clearly in her tone. “Would you like to go back to my apartment?”
He frowned. “Aren’t you married now?”
“Marcus doesn’t get out on parole until next month.”
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