Libra - Mr. Romantic

by Tiana Laveen

  Several reporters requested interviews, and someone had told Mama about the incident before she’d even had the chance to do so herself. By 5:00 P.M., Mama and Daddy had managed to get to her, take her by surprise and throw their arms around her, squeezing her to death with their love. She was thrilled to have them there nevertheless, for things felt a bit less uncertain with them around. Uncle Sonny had stopped by, urging her to take as much time off as she needed. Noah had stayed away from school the first day after the incident. He was feeling out of sorts, and she couldn’t much blame him. He and her parents catered to her, though she told them she was fine—she just had to convince herself of that, figuring the more she uttered it, the truer it would become. Sebastian, her ex-husband, had called late that following evening, and that turned out to be one of the most awkward conversations they’d ever had, full of pauses, dead air, bountiful ‘I’m sorrys’… And now here she was, huddled up in her bedroom, her parents in the living room and her son finally away at school. A knock at the bedroom door drove her out of her thoughts.

  “Yes?” she said, forcing herself to perk up.

  “It’s me,” came her mama’s voice. “Somebody at the front door, baby.” Yasmine rolled her eyes and sat up, pulled her pajama sleeve over her partially exposed breast, and set the mug of cocoa down on the nightstand.

  “Another reporter? I already told ’em I was done talking about it.” She yawned.

  “Naw, it’s the man that was on the news… that big fella, says his name is Langston Lopez.”

  She swallowed and ran her hand through her hair. She and Langston had texted frequently, but hadn’t spoken much since the incident, nothing much to it. She surmised they both needed a minute to get their minds right, process it all.

  I can’t turn him away… I don’t want to turn him away, but I don’t feel like having company. He’s not company though… That’s my new friend.

  “Oh… well, let ’im in. I’mma throw on some clothes and be right out.”

  “All right baby, I’ll tell him.”

  Her mother shuffled away. Putting the television on mute, Yasmine sat off the edge of the bed and dragged her toes along the raspberry colored rug, the soft fibers feeling good against her skin. She sat for a spell, breathing slowly… in and out. The curtains were mostly drawn on the window before her, but where the mustard colored drapes met, a tiny thread of light pierced the room, drawing a line down the center of her boudoir.

  Sliding her feet into her black house shoes, she stood and made her way to the small bathroom attached to her room. She turned on the basin water and splashed her face, ran a brush through her long hair that she hadn’t combed since that dreadful night, then brushed her teeth. She washed under her arms and private areas with some soap on a wash cloth, applied some deodorant and body spray, and put on a pair of black panties and matching bra. Reaching for a rust sweater, she slid it over her body and paired it with dark jeans. As a final touch, she wore a pair of silver hoop earrings—she always felt naked without earrings. Her nails though were an eyesore she couldn’t fix in a few seconds. She grimaced at the sight.

  I need a fill-in… I look a mess all over, so this won’t matter. I don’t want him to see me like this…

  She hesitated, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Stepping back from the door, she grabbed a tube of sheer lip-gloss and applied a couple of coats to her lips. No time for mascara and all of that…

  She looked back at her nails as she approached the door once again.

  The polish was chipped and she had quite a bit of growth. It disturbed her to a level that was rather alarming—made her feel undone, coming apart, incomplete…

  On a deep breath, she took the knob in her palm and opened the door to walk out of the bedroom. Her heart beat faster as she peeked through the living room and saw Daddy asleep in the lazy boy chair, snoring, his mouth hanging open.

  Is he tryna catch flies? She smiled to herself.

  Mama was sipping cocoa on the couch in her floral printed housecoat and Langston was sitting next to her. Facing one another, they talked quietly, their smiles big and friendly. He had on a pair of loose dark jeans, a gray hoodie, and his hair was brushed back away from his face, exposing those gorgeous eyes. She let her gaze fall to his wrist and her smile soon faded. It was wrapped still, in fresh gauze and bandages. He and Mama looked in her direction as she drew closer.

  “Baby, Langston said he hadn’t talked to you and wanted to see with his own eyes, know that you was okay.” Mama set her cup down on the coffee table then patted the man’s arm like he was an old friend of the family.

  “That was nice of you, Langston. I’m okay.” She ran her hands up and down her arms. It was rather cool in the living room. “I plan to go back to work in a couple days.”

  A clear look of concern danced in the man’s eyes. He cleared his throat. “Oh, you are? If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to you about that and a few other things, too.”

  “Oh, all right… uh, you wanna step in the kitchen with me?” She pointed in the direction of the small galley. “We can talk in there. I can fix you somethin’ to drink, too.”

  “All right, that’s fine.”

  “I need to make some lunch anyway.”

  “Well, let me come on here and join you.” The man got to his feet, and his height seemed to dwarf the entire house. Langston stepped by Mama.

  “’Scuse me, ma’am.”

  “Oh, you fine, sugar.” Mama grabbed her cocoa once again and took a sip as Langston tarried behind her and they made their way into the small enclosure.

  As soon as they got behind the partition, the man wrapped his arms so tightly around her, his strong hold stole her breath as he pressed his mouth to hers, stifling a scream she could barely contain. The kiss was warm and intense, shocking her senses. When he released her, she gasped for air and looked into his eyes, perhaps searching for answers to questions he couldn’t remedy.

  “Just needed to see you for myself… make sure you was still breathin’, doin’ okay. The phone call and text messages weren’t enough. I’m sorry… I worry ’bout things like that.”

  “That’s all right.” She swiped her thumb across his lips and removed some of the gloss that had deposited itself there. He grabbed her hand and held it as he looked intensely into her eyes.

  “I’ve been thinkin’ ’bout you night ’nd day. My phone been ringin’ so much I had to turn it off.” He smiled shyly.

  “I been thinkin’ ’bout you, too, and the same thing happened to me.”

  “It’s died down some. People been actin’ like I’m a big deal at work.” He smiled. “Deliveries ain’t been the same. They keep playin’ that tape of me jumpin’ on him on the news… folks actin’ like I’m some kinda celebrity.”

  “You are.” She winked at him and crossed her arms over her stomach as he leaned her into the counter. She had a feeling a small part of the man was enjoying all of the attention he was receiving—he just wished it were for a different reason.

  “I found out that man’s name… don’t know if you saw they announced it on the news.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I saw. They said his name is Roberto Gomez.”

  “Yeah, not too many people in my circle knew him, but according to what I’ve heard, he has a bad reputation. He’s been on Flakka they said lately, too.”

  “Flakka? That synesthetic drug shit? They say it’s like meth and crack mixed together. Makes people act like they’re on that bath salt mess,” she said. “Is he still in the hospital?”

  “Yeah… Police stopped by my house again yesterday; no charges are gonna be filed against me. They’ve got the tapes provin’ everything we both said. One of the cameras didn’t work though, but the one of him enterin’ the store and one in the corner of the store worked, so they got enough evidence to support our testimony and then some. Ain’t no way he gonna beat this, that is, if he ever walks again.” The man’s eyes hooded as he leaned in closer to her, looking like he was fightin
g an urge to kiss her.

  “You musta got him good.” She involuntarily shook as images from that horrible night flashed in her mind once again… the blood, the deranged look in the man’s eyes… the way Langston had taken hold of the situation, on the sly, and the violence that had ensued. The man had become a blur in the throes of brutality and a thirst for survival. A proper ending to the madness had played out before her. How could a man who seemed so kind and sweet be such a beastly creature, too? The duality piqued her curiosity… Langston was physically strong, but carried himself as if he walked on air.

  “I was tryna kill him. I’m not even gonna lie. Once I saw that he had a knife and I could see in your face how worried you were, I don’t know what happened. I lost it.”

  They were quiet for a spell and she slipped around him and poured him a glass of water. He accepted the cup and sipped from it in silence. Seconds turned into minutes as she busied herself preparing something to eat. She warmed some vegetable soup up, enough for them all, and began to make turkey and cheese sandwiches, too.

  “How’s your wrist now?” After grabbing the bread from the pantry, she glanced at his arm and grimaced.

  “It’s fine. Had to end up gettin’ stitches. My mother made me go on over to the hospital ’cause it wasn’t gettin’ no better. Things is fine now though.”

  “That’s good… glad to hear it. I was worried about you. Cut you pretty deep. So, uh, do you want tomato on your sandwich?” She opened the refrigerator and took out the mayo, lettuce, and a couple tomatoes.

  “Anything you make me is fine, baby. I ain’t too picky, just as long as it tastes good. You know, that night he was—”

  “I don’t wanna talk about him no more, Langston. The thought of that man makes my skin crawl! Let’s just drop it, at least for now.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She hated that she sounded short with the man, but her chest had tightened, like she was having a damn panic attack. How could she explain that she’d had numerous nightmares about the crazed man, always waking up from them in a cold sweat? Her mind would play back what happened over and over, torturing her so.

  “All right… okay then. I do need to talk about you goin’ back in that store though.”

  “Well, I got bills to pay, Langston, and as the sayin’ goes, ‘The show must go on.’” She opened the refrigerator back up and grabbed the mustard.

  “I understand that. What I’m sayin’ is that you need some security in there, ’least for a while. If you gonna be in there that late at night or anybody really, they need to have an officer or security guard. That there isn’t one don’t make no damn sense.”

  “Well.” She sighed as she plated one of the sandwiches. “I agree with you there but that ain’t really in the budget. I was gonna tell Uncle Sonny though that he needs to have Rick there with me late at night, change his hours ’round. That’s better than nothin’, I suppose. He don’t do shit as it is.”

  “I don’t know who Rick is, but if he ain’t a bodyguard, a security guard, or a cop, he ain’t gonna be much help. My brother could do it.”

  “Your brother?”

  “He been outta work for a while, but he worked security many times—still does every now and again for different events outta town. My hours are too crazy or I’d do it; I wouldn’t be as consistent as you need due to me workin for UPS and my competitions ’nd all, but he could come down and do it and I bet he wouldn’t charge your uncle a whole lot, either. Plus, José could use the money, even if it’s just a little of somethin’. Hell.” The man shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s more than he has now. So, what do you say? Ask your uncle about that?”

  “Well.” She shrugged as she placed the mayonnaise lid back on the jar. “I ’spose that’s an option. Not to change topics, but you mentioned competitions. What’s that for?”

  “Bodybuildin’.”

  She smirked and shook her head. “I shoulda known… you look like a bodybuilder. That’s nice. Do you win a lot?”

  “I do. You should look me up online… I get some nice prize money sometimes, too. But yeah, I trust him to do that… ’cause if I can’t be there, my brother is the next best thing.”

  She smiled as she looked into his eyes.

  “You’re somethin’ else, Langston. All right, I’ll ask Sonny. Help me with these plates… gonna get ’em on the table, grab the pretzels and some pops, and we can eat.” He jumped to it, being a helping hand in her time of need. The next hour was spent with her parents laughing. Langston was the life of the party, telling story after story of his adventures at work, running into funny people. She imagined he was exaggerating a bit, too, but it didn’t bother her one bit. He was naturally entertaining, and her heart needed that in the worst way.

  “The dog got loose and jumped his little self over that there fence! I was runnin’ from a tiny terrier with a cast on its leg!” The room exploded in laughter again. “He was vicious, too… Found out his name was ‘Trouble.’ He had a bad reputation of tearin’ into mailmen and stuff, chewin’ on us like rawhide. I was terrified. Imagine my big self runnin’ and screamin’ out the yard like a lil girl. I was embarrassed, but not too shamed to never go over there again, and I told ’em as much, too. I ain’t no chew toy. Little dogs got teeth, too. Ain’t just gums up in their head. Some of the guys was makin’ fun of me at work but I didn’t care. They was talkin’ ’bout that little hairball can’t do me no harm. Like hell he couldn’t.”

  Her stomach cramped from laughing so hard. Langston was so silly, he made her feel great. Much, much better.

  “You coulda beat that dog up, boy as big as you!” Her father took a big gulp of his Pepsi.

  “That’s like sayin’ nobody should be ’fraid of a gun that’s little. Don’t matter what size the pistol is, if it shoots bullets you’ll still be pushin’ up daisies. Grim Reaper don’t care if the dog was the size of a wad of spit or big as an ocean – he still takin’ you with him. Honestly though, I woulda liked to play football wit’ him, him bein’ the football of course, but I needed that route and didn’t want to stir up no trouble. Trust me though, had I not been at work and it was just an ordinary day, he woulda went sailin’ in the air like a bird! I love animals, had dogs my whole life, but Trouble woulda been in a bubble… right up there in the sky with the Lord.”

  Daddy burst out laughing again and shook his head.

  The grayness of her days was lifting as he sat on the other end of that table cracking everyone up. He and Mama looked so cute together, sharing tale after tale. Daddy was eating, mirth in his eyes as he enjoyed the banter. It was the strangest thing, though; somehow, Langston looked like he was supposed to be there. He looked like they’d known each other forever, and he was just passing by and decided to pop in for lunch. Later, he and Mama helped her clear the table while Daddy went on back to the chair, probably to doze off.

  “Langston, I’m gonna lay it down. When you get as old as I am, you need frequent naps!” Mama laughed, poking fun at herself.

  “You don’t look a day over twenty-one,” Langston stated as he took the woman into his arms and hugged her. He was awfully affectionate—the touchy-feely kind, but it felt nice.

  “You’re charming. You’re also full of it.” She and Langston burst out laughing. “Anyway, I’m gonna go on and lie down. This is our last day here, so we may not see you for a while. It was nice meetin’ you. Hope to see you again.”

  Mama shot her a look, then sauntered off. There they were alone, their bodies so close. She stood at the sink washing the glasses that were once filled with cold Pepsi. Langston took one glass from her grasp and dried it with a thick towel. Then, he opened the cabinet she pointed to and placed it inside.

  “Make sure you keep fresh gauze on and clean your wound with peroxide, Langston.”

  “I will. So, I take it since you’re goin’ back to work, then we can also go out to dinner soon, too, right?” She smiled as she poured dish detergent on a sponge.

  “I ’spose so
.”

  “We can go out on a date… get something good to eat, then maybe go to the movies. What type of movies you like, Yasmine?”

  “Comedies. Romantic comedies the best.”

  “All right. What type of food do you like?”

  “Chinese and breakfast foods. I ain’t too picky. I like all kinds of food. I like tryin’ new things, going new places, too.”

  “What type of man you like?” He took the glass from her hand, dried it, and carefully placed it next to the last.

  “Men like you.” She turned to face him, grasped his chin between cool fingers, rose on her toes, and kissed him. “That’s the type of man I like…”

  “That’s the best type of man there is.” She chuckled at his words. “When and what time am I comin’ to get the type of woman that I like and take her out?”

  “Pick me up on Saturday, at six. We’ll go to dinner and the movies. That’ll be nice.” Grinning wide, she went back to the washing, plunging both of her hands into the sudsy, warm water.

  “I’m lookin’ forward to it. Can I call you Yaz?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t see why not. My name too long?” she teased.

  “Naw, nothin’ like that. You’re a tough cookie is all. Yasmine fits you too, it’s pretty, like a bouquet of flowers… but you’re tough as nails. I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but let me say this piece and then I’ll drop it. You was terrified, but anybody with two eyes could see you wasn’t gone let that man just do what he wanna do without a fight. You’re strong, even when you don’t think you are.” She blinked a few times. His words reached into her heart, grabbed and squeezed it tight.

  “Yaz sounds tough… like a woman who ain’t afraid, not even of takin’ a chance on uh a man she ain’t too sure about. But he wanna get to know her better, and now, she’s ready. Don’t matter how she got to that place; all that matters is that she’s finally there. I’m ready to show you some thangs you ain’t never seen before, and make you feel thangs you ain’t never felt, either. I like you, Yaz… I like you a whole damn lot.”