A Taste of Honey

by Darren Coleman

She was smart and didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth at the time, but the day we walked out of the district courthouse she asked me why I helped her. Before we climbed into our separate vehicles I admitted to her what I remembered. “Cheron, even though I always envied you, I respected you. Rorrie and I would sit outside and watch you as you left out the house dressed in the flyest gear.” I’d laughed, remembering. “We couldn’t wait to be grown so that we could be just like you. You were the closest thing we had to a hero. How could I let my hero go to jail if I could do something to stop it?”

  Even now that she was nearly thirty-three and was the mother of a four-year-old daughter, Madison, she had managed to keep it together physically, usually looking the part of a model chick. We hit the gym together at least twice a week. Over the years I’d always been there for her when she needed my help, financial or otherwise, and in return she’d lend her wisdom.

  Oddly, we never discussed Manny though. I’d formed my own code of honor and the disrespect that I’d shown her then would never happen again. I believe that she knew I’d learned from the past and that was obviously good enough for her to consider me a sister.

  She set her small overnight bag on the table and I noticed that she’d changed her hair color. A few streaks, highlights, and a cut, and the chick was looking out-of-this-world. “I’m loving your hair, Cheron. When did you get it done?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “The bomb.”

  “Thanks.”

  Then I pointed over to the bed. “Look through those and see which one you want to wear. We need to move because Miles will be here soon and we don’t want to have him waiting.”

  “No problem,” she said, approaching the bed where I had a few pieces laid out. Just as I suspected she went straight for the short white dress. “This is lovely,” she said.

  “Versace,” I shot back. It was nice, but not nicer than the Salvatore Ferragamo number I was wearing. “You’re a four, right?”

  Cheron nodded. “Unless I’m bloated.” Then she giggled.

  “Well there you go.” We wore the same dress- and shoe-size. “There are some matching kicks over there.”

  “You ain’t nothing but the truth.” Cheron stripped out of the khaki shorts and shirt she was wearing, in front of me. I quickly examined her panties and bra. They were nice enough.

  “You’re not going to be able to wear a bra with that dress, love. And grab a pair of those undies out of the bag.” It was filled with nothing but La Perla. I looked at my watch. “Go on in there and freshen up. I’ll be waiting down at the bar. Ten minutes max,” I demanded.

  “All right.” She grabbed the items and moved toward the bathroom.

  As I rode the elevator down I began to think of all the money I’d make tonight. I’d promised Cheron fifteen hundred to spend the night with Miles and myself. The second he greeted me, he’d hand me a cashier’s check for twelve thousand dollars. And for that, he might not even want to have intercourse.

  We cruised from the hotel just up M Street to Miles’s favorite restaurant, Michel Richard Citronelle. I watched Cheron’s body language, making sure that she didn’t seem too impressed even though the food and the atmosphere lived up to the billing that it received worldwide. A mood wall that changed color every fifty-nine seconds, soft music, and the lure of a man made of money made it hard to resist actions that caused most women to appear foolish. This, however, was work for me and since Cheron was along for the ride and the commission, there were standards of decorum to be upheld.

  The waiter treated Miles like an old friend and was at our beck and call. The world-famous chef even stopped by our table to ensure that everything was up to par and to make a wine suggestion to Miles.

  The meal came quickly, allowing us to proceed with the evening. Custard-and-caviar-filled eggshells, a three-course meal, and two bottles later it was time to go.

  Miles had long implored me to bring along another woman. I didn’t have to tell him, he knew that I wasn’t into women, and would never be, so any hopes of some girl-on-girl was out the window. He said he understood but still wanted me to bring a friend. So here we were.

  We were headed down K Street when Miles’s phone rang. He’d ignored every call before this one, so I was surprised when he took the call. “Yes, I’m in the city now.”

  I didn’t listen closely until he asked the driver to turn around. Five minutes later we pulled up in front of a club. “Ladies, if you don’t mind, I’d like to spend about thirty to forty minutes here. I have a client that I need to meet and it will only take a few moments.”

  I nodded, not wanting to appear fazed one way or the other since he was spending so much money. We climbed out of the Maybach and walked into the door of the posh gentlemen’s club.

  We sat at a booth opposite one of the stages and within moments Miles had ten drinks delivered to our table. “Sip until you find what suits you,” he said. He then walked to a table where three other men were seated. I caught their gazes. I knew the drill. He was telling the men that he had two pieces of ass that he was about to enjoy. Men were so predictable. He talked to them for five minutes and then came back to join us. The men spoke as they left the club together. Miles wanted to enjoy a few drinks before leaving and he had me climb out of the booth so that he could sit between us.

  I drank sparingly, as was my policy, and kept my eyes on Cheron. She had a weakness for fine alcohol. I sat back and watched the girls get their hustle on—singles, fives, or twenties at a time. I thanked my stars that I wasn’t one of them. They had to shake ass for a month or two in front of men who wanted to bang them, in order to make the kind of money that I did in one night.

  A couple of them were really pretty and I thought about schooling them but logic prevailed. We are who we are and it took all kinds to make the world go round. They shook it on stages while I went all the way for a price. It was simply a matter of style.

  “Cheron, go give her some money,” Miles barked. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a wad of money. “Here take it to her,” he said, handing Cheron a twenty.

  She looked at me and I winked and gave a slight nod. Whatever turned him on, up to a point, was my motto. Cheron looked out of place, as did I. We looked too classy to be handing out bills to dancers, even in a nice club like this one.

  “That’s right. Make her work for it,” Miles yelled out. He was drunk, but that was cool. He’d been known to pass out from the liquor and rich food without so much as laying a finger on me. When that happened it was strictly his loss, as he paid for time, not sex, though the implication was always sex.

  The white girl was gyrating slowly in front of Cheron. When she noticed the twenty she took her act to the next level, moving as if she were trying to entice Cheron.

  Miles kept Cheron running back and forth, handing off twenty after twenty to every dancer who graced the stage. I reasoned that he must have been getting turned on, so I scooted closer to him and began to rub my hand on his thigh. I was shocked when he said, “I want her to do that.”

  “Excuse me?” I responded.

  “No, I mean I want you both doing it at the same time.”

  I leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Here?”

  “No, let’s go back to my place.”

  He squared the tab and we prepared to leave.

  Standing at the front of the club we were waiting for the car to pull up when I saw a group of men approaching the door. My heart almost sank when our eyes met.

  It was Khalil.

  “Honey?” Just then the car pulled up.

  “Hey. I got to run, Khalil.” The driver opened the door and I watched Cheron climb in as Miles stood there. I wanted to tell him that he’d been on my mind. Secretly though, I’d been afraid to go through with my plan to crush Rorrie, because I actually felt something with him that I couldn’t yet comprehend. Instead I looked him in the eye and saw that there was so much that he wanted to say, yet all I gave him was, “I’ve got to run.”
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  When we hit the corner and I glanced back again, he was still standing there.

  My mind was blank as I put in my work that evening. Not that I enjoyed sex with my clients, but I usually was present. I never wanted to go numb to what I was doing for fear of losing my humanity. But as I sat naked on the chaise in Miles’s bedroom my only thoughts were of Khalil.

  I only responded when he asked.

  It was strange but Cheron seemed to be enjoying herself. She had gotten caught up in the romance of the evening. The seven-hundred-dollar dinner, the ride in the Maybach, the endless string of Monopoly money that she tossed at the club, and now the three-million-dollar mansion had her believing that it was real. My session ended when I’d freaked out after the unthinkable happened. A broken condom. There had been a serious break in action as I made sure that he had not ejaculated anywhere near me.

  I was completely through for the night but it was proven that one monkey didn’t stop the show. Ten minutes later and Miles was bouncing up and down on Cheron as if his life depended on it. All the while he’d been making requests. “Rub my back, spank my ass,” he screamed out. “Kiss her.”

  Cheron was drunk and surprisingly game. It was as far as I’d been willing to go. I knew that I could always hit a man when he was at his peak. “You know I don’t do that, but if you really want to see it, it’ll cost you.”

  “Okay, just kiss her. Kiss her while I nail her.”

  I smiled as I leaned in and gave her a long and sensuous kiss. It meant nothing to me and I felt nothing, but it paid my car note, twice. When I pulled away I noticed the look of unadulterated pleasure on Cheron’s face. In that instant, I knew that she’d been with women before. I moved away and let him finish up.

  It was cool that I didn’t have to remind him of the extra money when it was time for the driver to take us back to the hotel. On the downside, I left his home feeling way too strange. The entire ride back to the hotel I thought about Khalil as I stared out the window.

  “What’s wrong?” Cheron asked. “Did I do anything wrong?”

  I shook my head no. “Not at all.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I laughed. “Nah, girl. It looked like you enjoyed yourself though,” I said, trying to change the subject from my blues.

  “Hmmmph,” she exclaimed. “The easiest money I ever made. Homeboy was all right. But…I wouldn’t do it again.”

  “Really?”

  She seemed a bit offended by my tone and immediately responded with: “Why you asks like that? No. Really, I wouldn’t.” She raised her voice a little.

  “Why not?”

  Her answer not only sobered me, it shot through me like a bullet. “Hailey, I have a daughter to think of. How could I face her if she ever found out? I wouldn’t want this for her, so how could I expect different if it was something that I said was okay through my actions?”

  “But you are saying it is okay. It’s good enough for you to do…”

  Cutting me off, she said, “I didn’t do this for the money. I came along simply for the experience. Don’t get me wrong. I’m a single mom and I can always use extra money, but I’m not hurting. I’m way past spending ridiculous sums of money on clothes and I’m not knocking you. It’s your money. It’s your choice. But for me, that’s just not where I am. I simply wanted to hang out with you and one of these clients that I’ve heard so much about.”

  I was silent as we’d pulled up to the hotel. I felt every word she said but still it bothered me. After a few moments I said, “Can I talk to you about something?”

  “Anything,” she said. “I’m always going to be here for you, bitch. Just not tonight. I’m exhausted.”

  “Old Miles wore you out, huh?”

  “You ain’t never lied. His ass must have been on some Cialis or Viagra. Ol’ boy got the coochie hurtin’ a bit. Do you mind if I stay here and sleep it off?”

  It was after two o’clock in the morning. “Go ahead, but I’m heading home, I have a Realtor coming the first thing in the morning, I’m putting my place on the market. We can catch up in the morning.”

  “Cool,” she said as I packed up my belongings.

  “You can bring the dress in the A.M. and I’ll have the cash for you.”

  She was my girl, but chicks were famous for forgetting that they borrowed some gear.

  I cruised twenty over the speed limit, stoplight to stoplight, pushing the engine of my M3 to the limit. I turned the music down as I turned onto my block and lucked up when I found a spot three houses down.

  I took my shoes off and began to skirt my way down the sidewalk. It was humid and the ground felt sweaty under my feet but I didn’t care. My mind was on one thing, hitting the bed. Well two things, but I’d have to think about that in the morning.

  I reached for my keys but was startled when I heard the voice behind me. “Honey, we need to talk.”

  Cornered, I had no choice but to face him.

  12

  KHALIL

  I blew the entire mood of David’s night on the town after I bumped into Honey. Seeing her looking so good and getting into the car of another man stunned me like a slap from Naomi Campbell. The guy was obviously wealthy but he looked old enough to be her father. Deep down inside I held out hope that it might have been, but I couldn’t make sense of them being at a strip club. I wasn’t in the club twenty minutes before I announced that I was leaving.

  We had all met up at David’s spot and then I’d left my car there, so I had no choice but to call Rorrie. She showed up asking twenty questions. “So what’s wrong? What happened?”

  I had thoughts of feigning sickness with the fellas but I didn’t want David to worry about my making it to the wedding. I pulled him to the side and explained to him that I was having some problems with Rorrie and that I needed to get home. He wasn’t happy but said he understood.

  Now that Rorrie and I were driving to my car I realized that what I’d told him was true. “I’m not really in the mood to be around a bunch of drunk guys in a strip club.”

  “That’s why I love you,” she said. “Most men love that sort of thing, but you are only interested in a virtuous woman.” She was smiling.

  “That’s me.” I began thinking back to how I sexed Honey up a few hours after we met. Not much virtue in that, yet I couldn’t figure out why for the life of me I’d begun to slip into this obsession over her. In all practicality, she could have been a whore.

  My train of thought was broken when Rorrie spoke. “Khalil,” she said. “I want to ask you something.”

  “Yeah, what’s up?”

  “Would you mind it if I didn’t make it to the wedding tomorrow! I got a call from one of my old instructors and they are doing a clinic over at Greater Southeast Hospital tomorrow for children who suffer with HIV. It’s like a free physical and treatment program. They are like five physicians short and I’d like to go over and volunteer. Of course I told him that I had a previous engagement and I’d have to ask my fiancé first.”

  “Oh, of course I don’t mind. That sounds like a really great way to give back. To be honest, if there was any way that I could get out of going I would too.” I half-laughed. I was relieved that she didn’t ask me anything too heavy.

  “You’re not looking forward to David’s big day?”

  “It’s not that. I’m just not big on weddings.”

  “What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

  I thought about what I’d just said. “You know, big productions.”

  “Yeah okay. I guess that’s why you haven’t brought up ours in the past month or so. You think it’s going to be too big a production?”

  “Ummm, that’s not it at all. I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately.” We were nearly to my car. “Turn right here and then make the left at the stop sign. My truck is halfway up the block.”

  “Anything you want to talk about?”

  “Just work and pressure that’s it.”

  I looked over at her and I almos
t wanted to blurt out that I was confused about what I was going through.

  We stopped at my truck and as I climbed out she asked, “You following me?”

  “Yeah, but I want to stop and grab a bite to eat. You want something?”

  “No. But you don’t have to stop. I can cook for you.”

  “I got a taste for a sub. I’m going to slide over to Eddie’s. I’ll see you at the house.”

  She nodded and sped off. So did I, but in a different direction.

  I sat on Honey’s block for an hour before my phone began ringing off the hook with calls from Rorrie.

  When I finally answered I said, “Hey, babe. Sorry, but I talked to David and the crew and they all begged me to bring them subs so I wound up turning right around and going back for them. Now I’m on the way back to the club. They really laid a guilt trip on me for leaving so I’m going to hang out with them for just a little while.”

  “Khalil, you could have fucking called me to let me know.” I knew she was beyond pissed, because she seldom used the f-word. “I don’t know what you’re tripping off of lately.”

  “Sorry babe, but I’ll be home in a bit.”

  “Whatever.” Click.

  I tossed my cell right back down in the seat and continued on my wait. I didn’t give Rorrie’s feelings a lot of thought as one hour turned into three. The entire time I sat in my truck listening to Maxwell singing “Matrimony: Maybe You,” all the while being sucked into the fantasy world of his lyrics as I sang along. His words talked about finding someone who could turn out to be more than just a one-night stand. About finding the girl who could really be the one. My heart echoed the sentiments of the lyrics as I dreamed that perhaps Honey could be the wife that had been sent to me. Even though I barely knew her at this point, a part of me believed that just like Maxwell’s words, she could teach me about me.

  It didn’t get any deeper than that. I had to find out if she was the one. Tuesday I had another appointment to see Cameron again and hopefully by then I’d be able to be honest with her about the things I was feeling. I’d at least know if Honey felt anything for me.