“I missed your beautiful smile and those hypnotic eyes. You know you can get anything you want from me when I'm lost in those eyes.” He put his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him. Then he slowly moved his mouth to her ear. When he was close enough, he whispered, “We could make a beautiful son together.”
“Oh stop it, William. You know I'm not ready for that kind of responsibility,” she said to him. “And your wife would kill us both,” she murmured under her breath.
“What was that?” he asked. She gazed into his eyes, and his words played in her mind and moved through her soul. What would it be like to build a family with him? she wondered. Divine was the answer. Their child would be amazing. If it were a boy, he would be distinguished like William, one of the handful of black men Alecia dated.
In Los Angeles there was an abundance of powerful, filthy-rich men, but most of them were either white or foreign. When one of these rich men showed an interest, Alecia responded. But none could compare to William—he was such a man. At forty-seven, William could have easily passed for someone in his late thirties, if he didn't have gray hair on his head and in his mustache. He had soft, fair skin, gray eyes, and nice lean features. His smile and charm were of the kind that distinguished phenomenal salesmen from merely good ones. William was exceptional, with a great mind and an incredibly high sex drive.
“Combined with my beauty,” Alecia mused softly, “indeed, our son would be a threat to society and the women whose hearts he'd break, one after another.”
“Did you say something to me?” he asked her again.
“Pull me closer,” she whispered.
William squeezed her tighter and ever so softly put his hand under her chin to pull her lips close to his. His kiss was warm, passionate.
As in-control as Alecia attempted to be when in his presence, she couldn't deny that she was deeply in love with him. All he had to do was say the word, and she would drop every man in her address book and settle down with him.
“So how much time do we have today?” she asked.
He released his embrace. The question triggered William to fall back into business mode. He sat up straight, pulled out his Palm, and called up his schedule for the day. “We have approximately two hours,” he said. “I have two meetings later in the day, and then tonight I have to attend a showcase one of the record labels I represent is putting on with some new talent they're considering. But I've got a surprise for you in the next two weekends. Are you going to be free?” he asked.
Of course I will be free, she said to herself. Then she gave an answer to remind him that she had a life outside of him. “I think I can arrange to be. What do you have planned?”
“If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, now, would it?”
“You're right, but can't I get an itty-bitty little hint?” She pouted.
“Little, beautiful city, with a beautiful woman, doing beautiful things.”
“More, more!” she playfully begged, and moved close to him. “Tell me more.”
“Just know that you're going to be with me, and I'm going to treat you like a princess,” he said, and then slid his arm back around her waist while Alecia laid her head on his shoulder.
“You always do,” she replied.
Alecia lay in silence in William's arms all the way to her condominium. She knew that her relationship with him was a fairy tale. He was her knight in shining armor. But if she wanted to live happily ever after with him, it meant that she would have to share her throne with his queen, whom he'd rescued and made his bride long before he'd met Alecia.
ANYA CHARLES SAT in her living room, legs crossed and arms tightly clutched in front of her chest, as she waited impatiently by the telephone. She had spent an hour and a half getting dressed, only to sit there for at least another hour. Her microbraided hair was pulled up and away from her made-up face. She was dressed in black two-and-a-half-inch pumps, super-sheer black panty hose that hugged her legs, and a sexy, short black dress. Her nails were well manicured. But it was all beginning to seem in vain because there was a possibility she would be going nowhere tonight. To make it worse, this wasn't the first time she'd found herself stood up by her man, Chris.
Christopher Walker was notorious for arriving hours late or just not showing up at all. He was always on his own schedule, and if Tanya wasn't willing to go along with the program, Chris had made it clear that she could hit the road running, because there were too many women in the greater Chicago area more than willing to take her place.
Although there was a clock in the living room, she got up and walked into the kitchen, to look at the big-faced clock hanging over the stove. She released a long sigh. She didn't really need to look at the time. She had checked it every five minutes. The impulse forcing her to get up over and over again clued her in that it was five minutes later than the last time she had looked at the clock, but she got up and looked nonetheless. She wanted to make sure she was correct and that Chris truly was late again.
Tanya attempted to distract herself by opening the refrigerator and checking to see if there was anything she could snack on while she waited. Too much preparation was required for most of what was inside, so she walked over to the pantry and grabbed a bag of chips off the shelf. As she munched, she realized that a snack wouldn't do—she needed a meal. She was starving. She hadn't eaten since her lunch break, and even then, she'd kept the meal light because when Chris took her out to dinner, they always overordered: champagne, wine, or mixed drinks, two or three appetizers, huge entrées, and dessert. The sky was the limit—whatever Tanya wanted, Chris got for her, and not only at restaurants.
She had all the latest fashions. Most of the clothes she wore were stolen, but they were the top-of-the-line threads nonetheless. Her one-bedroom loft located in Wicker Park was elaborately furnished, and she drove a fully loaded Audi 5000—all gifts from the man who insisted she wait until he was ready to get out of the drug game and begin earning money legitimately before they got married.
“I'm sick of this shit!” she huffed, devouring the chips on her way back to her designated waiting area on the sofa, in front of the big-screen television. But she didn't dare call him, because experience had taught her that when she made contact with him, he felt more justified in extending his arrival time. Using the excuse “We touched base. You knew I was coming, so why you bringing the drama?” he avoided taking responsibility for his lateness.
Tanya felt the urge to check the time again. “Okay, five more minutes have passed,” she said. “Time to wash down these chips.” She got off the sofa and walked back into the kitchen, where she pulled a bottle of soda out of the fridge. The doorbell rang. “He's here,” she sighed, and then put the half-open soda back into the fridge, grabbed a knife to check her lips and teeth in its reflection, and then smoothed her hair and her clothes and rushed to open the door.
Chris was posed on the other side of the door, hiding behind his signature dark shades and tugging away at his goatee. His lips were poked out, as they always were when he wanted to appear sexy. Dressed in Sean John jeans and jacket, a Karl Kani T-shirt, and hiking boots, her man was looking damned good, as usual.
“Hey, baby. Yo' man is here to take you out on the town. So what's up?”
Tanya smiled.
“Get over here and give Daddy some lovin',” he gently demanded.
Tanya happily stepped to Chris and fiercely tongued her man down, then finished him off with gentle pecks. She loved loving on his lips.
“You know how I like it, baby, don't you?” he said, gently nudging her back into the apartment, following close behind her. “I know you're hungry. What you got a taste for?”
“There's a steak restaurant that some of my coworkers were talking about earlier this week. I thought we could try it out.”
“Ah, yeah?” Chris's voice was deep, smooth and, as far as Tanya was concerned, sounded like jazz music.
“Yeah. I hear the food is really good.”
“Wouldn't we need a reservation or something?” he asked, pulling a chair away from the dining room table.
“Well, I made one for eight-thirty, but now it's almost ten and I'm not sure what time they close. It should only take us twenty minutes to get there from here,” she said calmly. Compromise was the name of the game. Dinner at eight-thirty or eleven was fine, as long as Chris was there with her.
“Why don't you call them and see …” His cell phone rang. “Excuse me baby,” he said, and answered his phone. “Hello … okay … hold on a sec.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and said to Tanya, “Call the restaurant and see what we can do. I'll only be a moment.” Then he continued with his conversation. “Yeah man, it's all good. So what's up?”
Tanya looked at her boyfriend suspiciously. Would this call be one that would prevent them from having a night out together? She prayed not. Not wanting to appear too obvious, she slowly walked away, eavesdropping, hoping to find out if their plans were being changed.
By the time Chris got off the phone, Tanya had gotten them a reservation.
“So what's up, baby?”
“Well, we have an eleven o'clock reservation. The kitchen closes at eleven-thirty and the restaurant at midnight.”
“Eleven o'clock. Cool. That gives us a chance to make a stop on the way there.”
Tanya pouted. “Why?”
“It won't take long, baby. I promise we'll make it on time. It's just gonna be a quick stop.”
“Okay. Well, let me get my coat.” Tanya went to the closet, breathing a quick sigh of relief. She selected her full-length fur coat to shield her from the harsh Chicago winds, and then walked toward Chris, who was standing at the door with his cigar holder in his hands.
“Damn, baby, you look good in that coat.” He pulled out a Cuban but didn't light it. He liked to play around with it in his mouth. He usually waited until after sex, dinner, or drinks to light up.
“I aim to please,” Tanya said proudly.
“If you keep being good to Daddy, like you've been, then I'll get you a mink that same length for Christmas.”
Tanya smiled big, walked over to her man, and kissed his neck while palming his penis with her hands. “I'll always be good to you,” she said, and then walked by him and opened the door.
Chris lifted his eyebrows and poked out his lips. “Now, that's what I'm talkin’ ‘bout,” he said, following Tanya out the door.
TANYA SAT PATIENTLY in the passenger seat of Chris's Cadillac Escalade. She had long since changed the hip-hop song that was blaring in her ear to something with a softer groove. When he made these runs, she didn't ask who he was going to see about what or why. She knew how her man made his money, by selling drugs and firearms. She was never with him when he was in the midst of an actual firearms transaction but was fully aware that it was part of his MO.
She was present, however, during countless minor drug transactions that were discreetly handled. Chris didn't deal in typical street sales. He dealt with the “rich white boys” in their condos and penthouses, big money sales one huge drop at a time. Tanya tried to stay as far away from his customers' eyes as possible—the less they knew about her, the better, and vice versa.
She and Chris didn't talk about business a whole lot. She knew what she needed to know and would put up with his occupation for a little while longer. He had promised her he'd quit once he reached his goal of being half a million dollars liquid, and he was close. Hidden in various banks and backyards, buried underneath trees and in family members' basements and garages, he had saved more than $260,000 over the past eight years. Just as soon as he made his last few big hits, he was going to give it up completely. They would get married and move to Atlanta, where Chris was going to become legit, open a rims shop, and live off his stash. So he said.
Tanya remained tolerant. Although she wanted so badly for Chris to be more like the guys that her coworkers dated—nine-to-five workers with good corporate jobs, who followed weekly schedules and were reliable—she was forced to face the reality of their situation. She wouldn't dare leave him; they had been together too long and had seen too much together, had experienced too much together. They had become family.
She'd met Chris while she was still a senior in high school. She and her good friend, Angel, got all made up one night and sneaked into a nightclub with their fake IDs. Chris had been one of the first men she'd seen when she walked through the door. He seemed so cool with a cigar in his mouth, so mature. Tanya couldn't help but stare. Her friend was excited they'd actually made it past the bouncer and was tugging at her arm, squealing, “We made it in, can you believe it?”
Tanya didn't join in because she was so taken by the sight that was before her. She was absolutely gaga.
“What are you looking at?” Angel insisted.
Tanya turned away to inform her friend, “Only the finest man in the club.” Then she directed Angel's attention toward Chris, who was standing by the bar, talking with two other brothers.
“Let's go speak,” Angel said.
“What? Wait.”
“Well, we're in here. We've planned this for weeks. So let's at least go over to the bar and get a drink,” Angel said, trying to appear mature. “Can you believe we're about to order our first real drinks? Do you remember what we said we'd get?”
“Yes, I remember. We're ordering Long Island iced teas,” Tanya answered, with her own air of womanhood. She took a deep breath, forced herself to stop drooling, and made her way over to the bar, close to where Chris was standing. The young ladies grabbed two seats and began signaling the bartender. Before they got his attention, they had attracted the attention of one of the guys who was standing with Chris.
The guy motioned to the bartender, who then walked over to him. After saying something to him, the bartender walked over to them and asked, “What are you having?”
The girls placed their orders.
“These are compliments of the gentleman a few seats down,” he said when he returned.
The pair looked up, and the guy raised his glass toward them and nodded.
Her friend slapped Tanya's arm. “Is that the one you were checking out?”
“No. The one I was peeping is not even paying us any attention. He's the one in the shades who's talking to the other guy.”
“Good. Because I'm diggin' on this guy's look. He's got that 'I just got out of prison' roughneck look that is stirring up my wild side,” she said, raising her glass back at him and smiling.
“That was bold!” Tanya commented.
“I know—now what do I do?” Angel asked nervously.
“We sit here and sip on our drinks, and then we casually get up and make our way toward the dance floor,” Tanya answered, as if she had a clue.
“Okay, but what if they don't speak to us before then?”
“That's not gonna be a problem for you. But me, on the other hand, I don't know,” Tanya replied, and looked past her friend, whose back was to her pursuer.
“What do you mean?” Angel asked.
Just then the guy edged close and hovered over Angel.
“So do you like your drinks?” he asked. His voice was deep and raspy.
“We do, thank you.” Angel looked up at the guy, who was not giving her any room to breathe. She shrugged and adjusted herself in the seat, attempting to find some distance.
“Oh, am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked.
“No, not at all,” she lied.
He stepped back anyway and reached out his hand. “I'm Greg,” he said. “What's your name, pretty lady?”
“Angel. And this is my friend Tanya,” she said. Tanya waved.
He shook her hand then turned his attention back toward Angel. “Peep this. None of these other niggas in here will show you as good a time as I can. So ain't no need in looking around. You stopped at the right spot. Right here by me.” He grinned, seemingly pleased at the game he had just dropped.
“That's a bold introduction,” Angel respo
nded.
“I'm just keepin' it real.”
“Well, as long as we're keeping it real, what's up with your boy over there? My girl is checking him out,” she said.
“Oh, so it's like that,” he said, and looked over at Tanya. “She's fine enough. All right, I'll put in a word.”
Tanya couldn't hear the conversation but wondered why this strange guy was eyeing her. She nudged Angel, who turned back to her, lifting her right eyebrow mischievously.
“What's going on?” Tanya asked.
Angel quickly looked away from Tanya and put her hand on Greg's shoulder. “So what's up?” she asked. “Are you gonna make sure both of us have a good time or what?”
“All right,” he reluctantly replied. “I'll check it out and see what's up.” He walked away.
Angel updated Tanya while they waited.
“I told you we should have done this a long time ago. Those boys at school don't got nothing on the men here,” Angel said.
“Girl, I can't believe I'm going to meet him. He's too fine. I'm telling you right now, I don't care how old he is, Angel, I'm pulling him.”
“Do your thing, girl,” Angel replied.
Greg returned and walked over to Tanya, “Wave at my boy and smile, so he can see your teeth,” he said.
“What did you ask me?” Tanya frowned.
“Dang, girl, just smile and say hi. It's all good,” he said, and walked back over to Angel.
Tanya panicked; she began to tap her fingers nervously on the bar. But she knew from the moment she spotted him that she had to meet him, so she leaned back in her seat and looked over to where he was standing. Then she waved and managed the sexiest smile that she could.
Chris smiled back, took a final sip of his drink, set it on the bar, and walked over to her. Instead of introducing himself, he stopped short and stared at her from head to toe. Then he poked out his lips, licked them, and moved closer.
“So you wanted to meet me,” he said.
“Yeah, I wanted to meet you,” she responded, attempting to appear confident. She looked him directly in his shades. But inside she was shivering with fear. What if he found out that she was only eighteen? What if he asked her age? What would she say? She decided she'd say twenty-one, the age on her fake ID. “So what's your name?” she asked. She figured she'd question him before he could her.
The Night Before Thirty Page 3
