“Now, before we take your calls, I’d like to kick things off with an old-school dedication. This one goes out to a very sexy doctor. And believe me, fellahs, she’s the kinda doctor you can’t wait to bend over for. I hope you’re listening, Doc, because this one’s especially for you. It’s a classic by one of the funkiest bands of all time, the Ohio Players. It’s called ‘Skin Tight.’” When the funky beat kicked in, I could practically feel the entire city snapping fingers and bobbing heads. Then the lyrics set it off:
“You’re a bad-bad miss-sass
In those skin-tight britches…. ”
I damn near fell on the floor when I saw Mitch in the control room doing the robot. I joined right in by doing a dance called the Errol Flynn. It was a popular dance back in the seventies. Halfway through the song, we faded the music out and began taking callers. It was obvious by the excitement in their voices that they couldn’t wait to vent.
By midnight we were on a roll. Every phone line stayed lit. During the breaks Mitch and I stared at one another and grinned. We knew the show was a hit.
Success is a funny thing. You dream about it all your life, then before you realize it’s happening, you’re there. Suddenly your thoughts shift from how you’re going to make it to how to hold on to what you’ve worked so hard to obtain. I had come a long way in fifteen years and there was no way in hell I was going back. I didn’t uproot my daughter and move all the way down to hot-ass Houston, Texas, only to fail.
I learned a valuable lesson from watching others in my profession: beware of the trappings of success—the money, the fame, and especially the women. All it takes is getting involved with the wrong one, and your reputation and career could be over.
That’s what I was thinking as I stared nervously at my monitor. Ever since the opening of the show I had avoided answering line ten. I was hoping she would get disconnected or hang up. But she stayed on the line for two straight hours. The information on my screen read:
Line 10—Olivia—How do I tell my maintenance man it ain’t over?
Was I being paranoid? Was it Olivia Brown? I didn’t know for sure. But I wasn’t about to pick up the phone to find out.
Part III: (October)
Chapter 13
“SAMANTHA, BREAKFAST IS ready!” I yelled. “And don’t take all day—the school bus will be here in five minutes!”
When she came downstairs I could tell she wasn’t her usual bubbly self. Instead of giving me a hug and kiss, she sat down at the kitchen table and started pouting.
“Good morning, Princess! Why the long face this morning? You look like somebody stole your lunch money.”
“I hate school! I wish we’d never moved to this crappy place.”
“Watch your mouth, young lady!”
“I’m sorry, Dad, it’s just that my music teacher, Mrs. Adams, is getting on my nerves. I’ve only been in her class a week and she’s already picking on me. Then there’s this white girl named Melissa who keeps kicking the back of my seat. When I turn around to tell her to stop, I’m the one who gets in trouble. I hate school!”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this last week?”
“I didn’t want to bother you. I know how busy you are with your new job.”
“I’m never too busy for my baby, you know that.” I put my arms around her. “Now, let me put some clothes on so we can get this mess straightened out, once and for all!”
“Don’t do that, Dad, please!” She grabbed my pajama sleeve as I was headed upstairs. “I don’t want to look like a crybaby in front of the other kids.”
“Okay, but if things don’t get better in the next couple of weeks, let me know. I might have to come up there and pimp slap Mrs. Adams.” I laughed.
“Speaking of slapping, is it okay if I beat up Melissa if she keeps kicking my chair?”
“Absolutely—just make sure nobody sees you.”
We laughed and gave each other a high five. Just then the school bus pulled up to the corner. Sam kissed me on the cheek and ran off with her backpack swinging off her shoulder.
“Melissa’s gonna get pimp slapped! Melissa’s gonna get pimp slapped!” she sang.
As I watched her board the bus, I felt proud of the child I was raising. “Yep, she’s a chip off the old block.”
While I washed the dishes, I turned on the Weather Channel to check the forecast. The heat was suffocating and I was praying for a cloudy day. But just as I expected, the forecast was for sunny skies and ninety-eight degrees. “No wonder the crime rate is lower in the South; it’s too damn hot for the crooks to come out to rob you!” I said to myself. Just then, the phone rang. When I saw the 312 area code I knew who it was.
“Whassup, playa?”
“Whassup, Julian! How’s everything in Houston, Texas?” He tried to sound southern. “Are those thick country girls knockin’ down your door yet?”
“Eddie, I’ve only been on the air for a week.”
“I figured a big-city boy like you would have a harem by now. I heard all about those Texas and Louisiana girls. They’ll put a mojo on you and have you doin’ all kinds of outrageous shit!”
“I don’t spread myself thin like you. But I did meet a fine sistah in the parking garage last week. She seems to have it all together—nice body, pleasant personality, real hair, and she’s a psychologist.”
“Those intellectual types make the biggest freaks,” Eddie said. “They listen to perverted sexual fantasies all day. By the time they get home they’re ready to break out the whips and handcuffs.”
“There you go again with your freak theory. Can you get your mind out the gutter for a second? I really like this woman. I even bought her some roses.”
“Roses? Wait a second—is this the same man who, only a week ago, said he wasn’t interested in a serious relationship?”
“Who said anything about a serious relationship? I just sent her roses, for God’s sake. It doesn’t mean we’re walking down the aisle.”
“Julian, you haven’t bought roses for a woman since—”
“I know when, okay? You don’t have to make such a big deal out of it,” I told him. “Besides, she doesn’t seem to be interested. I haven’t heard from her since I sent the flowers to her office last week, not even so much as a thank-you. That’s why I haven’t bothered to mention her until now.”
“Have you tried calling her? She could be dead.”
“I left two messages at her office the day after I sent the flowers. And I’ve called the answering service at her foundation twice.”
“Lord, help this poor soul. He’s lost all of his playa etiquette,” Eddie said. “Don’t you know a woman can detect a desperate man a mile away?”
“And your point is?”
“Stop callin’! If she’s interested, she’ll pursue you.”
While we were talking, I got another call. “Hold on, Eddie, my other line is ringing.”
“Take your call, Julian. I’ve got to get down to the studio. I just called to let you know I made reservations to fly in next Saturday.”
“That’s perfect timing! The radio station is throwing an old-school party at the Hilton next week!”
“Cool! I’ve been looking forward to checking out some of those thick southern girls,” Eddie said. “Oh, and don’t forget you promised to throw down on some barbecue.”
“I’ll have the coals in the grill, hot and ready to go.”
“If you play your cards right, that doctor friend of yours will be hot and ready, too. Take it from me, partner—women are all about playing games. Peace!”
I didn’t want to accept that Terri was playing games. That would have also meant accepting that she was common, typical, not special. I wasn’t ready to admit that possibility. When I clicked over I expected it to be either Carmen’s parents or Mitch. I didn’t bother to check the caller ID.
“Hello, Payne residence.”
“Julian?”
“Yes, who is this?”
“It’s Terri Ross
, how are you doin’?”
She caught me completely off guard. Although I was happy to hear her voice, my pride wouldn’t allow me to show it.
“I’m doin’ fine.” I tried to sound cool. “And you?”
“I’m fine, too.”
There was a pause. I knew she could sense my nonchalant attitude.
“If you’re busy I can call you back later.”
“Did I say I was busy?”
“No, but you sound like you don’t want to be bothered.”
“If I didn’t want to be bothered, I would’ve told you. I always say what’s on my mind.”
“Are you implying something?”
“I’m not implying anything, I’m simply saying that if I felt a certain way about an issue or a person, I would just come right out and say it.”
“Look, Julian, I can tell you’re in a funky mood. Maybe I should call you another time.”
“Call me another time? For what, Terri?” I asked angrily. “You call my home acting as if you haven’t received my phone calls or my flowers. You know I’ve been trying to reach you for over a week. You could’ve at least extended me the courtesy of a return phone call.”
“Now, wait just a minute, Julian. You don’t know me well enough to be telling me off, and by the way, I never asked for the stupid flowers!”
“You’re right, Terri, we don’t know each other that well, in fact, we don’t know each other at all. But I assumed, as a gentleman, that an appropriate way of getting acquainted was to send you flowers. But I guess I was wrong.” I paused to collect myself. “You know, Terri, I don’t know what you’ve gone through to make you so angry and distrustful toward men, but I’m not to blame. Furthermore, I’m not going to pay for it. Good-bye, Doctor Ross. I hope you find what you’re searching for.”
As I hung up the phone I thought about what Mitch said to me at WTLK in Chicago. He told me to start taking my own advice. In that situation my advice would have been to let it go. If Terri couldn’t appreciate a gentleman sending her flowers, if she couldn’t give me the courtesy of a phone call, then what the hell did I need her for? Unlike most people who suffer from emotional dependency and low self-esteem, I accept when a person is not for me.
I took a deep breath and headed upstairs to put on my swim trunks. I decided to do a few laps in the pool before hitting the weights. “I didn’t like her that much anyway,” I said out loud. I was trying to convince myself I didn’t care. “Her head was too big and her legs were too skinny. And besides, who wants to date a psychologist? All they do is analyze every damn thing.”
Suddenly the phone rang. This time I checked the caller ID. It read ROSS COUNSELING SERVICES.
“Hello?”
“Julian, it’s me, Terri. Please don’t say anything. I have something I need to say to you. First of all, I apologize for not calling to thank you for the flowers. It was a wonderful gesture and I truly appreciated it. No one has sent me flowers in over ten years. I also want to tell you how much I loved the poem you wrote. It showed me a tender side of you. Not many men are willing to communicate their emotions in such a romantic way. They’re afraid of appearing too soft or weak. Also, you were right about me being hurt in the past. Sometimes it’s hard for a woman to move on, even a woman who advises people about their relationships for a living. I guess I have a lot to learn about myself and about how to treat people.”
“Can I say something now?” I asked her.
“Not yet, I just have one more thing to say.” Her tone was very serious. “I admire you for being the man you are. Raising your daughter after losing your wife must be very difficult. I only hope that I haven’t ruined my opportunity to get to know you and find out what kind of man you are—outside of the studio. That’s it, I’m done.”
“Well, since you’re feeling so apologetic, what are you willing to do to make it up to me?”
“I’ll leave that up to you, but don’t ask for nothin’ crazy.” She laughed.
“How about a date?”
“Just say when.”
“Be careful how you say that. I can be quite spontaneous.”
“Like I said, you name the time and place and I’ll be there.”
“Okay, how about an hour from now at my place?”
“And may I ask what we’re going to do at your place, Mr. Payne?”
“Stop trippin’, Terri, I’m not trying to seduce you. It’s simply an invitation to get better acquainted and have a swim. That is, if a stuck-up, educated sistah like yourself isn’t afraid of getting her hair wet.”
She got quiet for a second.
“Okay, you’ve got yourself a date. I’ll be there in about an hour and a half. I have to go by the mall and pick up a cute swimsuit. And by the way, don’t let my degrees and fancy office fool you, I’m a homegirl from the Fifth Ward and I can throw down with the best of them,” she said, sounding cocky. “Now give me the directions to your place so I can embarrass you in your own pool.”
Chapter 14
I WAS SO excited about Terri’s visit that I mopped the foyer with a bucket of Lysol, vacuumed the carpet twice, and did one hundred inclined push-ups. “You da man!” I admired my physique in the dresser mirror.
At one fifteen I heard Terri’s BMW pulling into the driveway. I looked through the blinds as she was stepping out of her car. I wanted to see if she was just as fine as I remembered. She was wearing a white wrap over a two-piece yellow swimsuit and a gold chain that accentuated her slim waist. Her round, tan breasts stood out even more, 36C, I estimated. “That business suit didn’t do your body justice,” I said to myself. I grabbed a beach towel from the linen closet and wrapped it around my waist to disguise my erection, then I rushed downstairs to let her in.
“Welcome to Club Med, pretty la-dee,” I said with a Jamaican accent. “Cu-mon in and take ya shoes off.”
“Why thank you, Dexter Saint Jock—don’t mind if I do.”
“Can I offer ya some soda or tea, are maybe some ganja to relax ya mind?”
“Water will be fine.”
“Are ya for sure, now, ’cause I got the good stuff, the Panama Red, the Acapulco Gold.”
“No thank you, I’ll just have good ole fashion H2O.”
“Comin’ right up, child.” I said as I went into the refrigerator. “Any ting ya want, just let me know.”
Terri laughed as she walked around the living room admiring the house. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun and she wore tinted glasses that gave her an elegant and sophisticated look.
“I love your place,” Terri said. “How long have you been in Houston?”
“It’ll be two weeks on Sunday. But it already feels like home.”
“Aww, she’s adorable. Is this your daughter?” She was looking at Samantha’s pictures on the mantel over the fireplace.
“Yeah, that’s my baby,” I said while walking over to her. “And this must be your wife. She’s very beautiful! Your daughter looks just like her.”
“Thank you.” I picked up Carmen’s picture. “We met back in college when I was working at the campus radio station.”
“Janet told me that she passed away.” Terri put her hand on my shoulder. “How long has it been?”
“Two years.”
“You really loved her, didn’t you?”
“There are no words to express how much.” I put the picture back on the mantel. “What about you, have you ever been married?”
“Who, me—married? No. I haven’t even come close.”
“Is that by choice?”
“No, it’s by circumstance.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning most men aren’t interested in a committed relationship. They lie too much, they don’t have any goals, and they will lay up with any hoochie who’ll open her legs. Then they have the audacity to expect the woman to be loyal,” she said. “At this point in my life, I’d rather collect dust than problems.”
“But don’t you want to fall in love, have children, and liv
e happily ever after?”
“Do you want the strong, independent woman answer, or the real deal?”
“I want to know what’s in your heart, not your head.”
“There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t hope for all those wonderful things. But wanting something badly comes with a price, and that’s the disappointment of knowing you can’t have it. Every little girl dreams of Prince Charming whisking her off on a white horse, but when you grow up you realize the prince has turned into a toad and the white castle is the basement at his mama’s house.” She took a deep breath and lowered her head. “I can’t even believe I’m telling you this; I don’t even know you.”
“Why does being comfortable with a man make you so uncomfortable?” I moved in closer and grasped her hand on the mantel. “Maybe you’re just afraid of letting someone get close.”
“What kind of romantic nonsense is that?” She laughed nervously.
“If it was nonsense, why are you trembling?”
Terri pulled away.
“I’ve been the only one doing all the revealing—you haven’t told me what it is that you want.”
“I want everything! A soul mate, a role model for my daughter, and a woman who can make a good pitcher of KoolAid.”
“Is that pink lemonade or the red kind?”
“I like mine mixed.”
We both laughed. It relaxed the mood temporarily, but we both knew where the conversation was going.
“Look, Julian, there are hundreds of women out there you could choose from. Why me?”
“I wasn’t looking to get involved, either. Just two weeks ago I was telling my best friend that I wasn’t interested in a serious relationship; then you came along and all of a sudden my attitude changed. Maybe it’s fate or just coincidence. All I know is ever since we met, I haven’t been able to get you off my mind.”
“Julian, I’ve been down this road before with men who talk about settling down. But after a couple of years, months, or even weeks, they’re ready to move on to something new or back to someone from their past.”
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