“My name is Chris, but everybody calls me Big C,” he said and held up a huge gold C pendant hanging on a thick gold rope around his neck. “But you, sexy, can call me Chris.”
“Okay, Chris,” Tanya responded. She was really getting into his thug-life persona, when he abruptly changed the flow of the conversation.
“Listen, write down your number on a napkin or something, and I'll call you.”
“You're leaving?” Tanya asked, disappointed.
“Well, I got to go take care of some business, and I might not be able to find you when I get back, or you might be gone. If you give me your number now, maybe I can swing by your place later tonight.”
Tanya frowned.
“Or maybe I can hit you up later, and we can get together some other time. You know?”
“Okay,” Tanya said, “I'll give you my pager number.” She didn't want to give him her home number, because she didn't want him to know that she still lived with her mother.
“What? Are you married or something?” he huffed.
“No, I live with my sister,” she lied, “and I don't like to give her number out to strangers. Just page me, and I'll call you.”
“Okay, I'll page you, but you'd better not be living with no nigga, 'cause I ain't got no time for that kind of drama. You feel me?” he said, and then calmed his posturing a bit. “All right, sexy,” he said. He blew her a kiss and strolled out of the door of the club.
Tanya was smitten. She could tell Chris was the kind of nigga that didn't take no shit, but she could also tell he had a gentle side and that he would protect her—that's exactly what she needed in her hood, a down brother who would have your back.
She begged Angel to stay an hour later than planned, hoping to be able to see Chris again. The two closed down the club. Tanya danced a few times but spent most of the evening hoping and waiting for Chris to walk back through the door. Some things didn't change: Eleven years later and Tanya was in the same holding pattern with Chris.
She turned up the heat in the truck, snuggled her chin in the lining of her fur coat, lost herself in the music that was flowing through the speakers, and tried to relax, but the reality of their relationship was hard to swallow. She was still waiting to get the chance to spend time with the man who was still hustling while planning to find time to spend time with her.
LISE ROSS PULLED into the lot of the high-rise elderly-assistance apartments her grandma had resided in for the past seven years. Her grandma was scheduled for a colonoscopy the next day, and Elise had to administer the laxative the doctor had instructed her grandma to take orally, once in the morning and once in the evening. It was time for Grandma's evening dose.
She'd spent the entire day at her new gym, Gotta Flip Gymnastics, where she was preparing for the grand opening in two weeks. Elise felt guilty that she hadn't been spending very much time with her grandma lately, but she was realizing her dream, which was to open a gymnastics center to cater to a predominately black student base. She had worked as a gymnastics instructor for Gym Works, located in the east end of town, and although she'd loved working there, she had been disturbed that she touched the lives of so few black children. She loved the kids she worked with and gave them her all as an instructor, but she longed to have a place filled with beautiful, young, smiling black faces wanting to learn everything they could about the art of gymnastics.
Elise rushed out of the car, forgetting to grab her coat and gloves. It was the first of November and winter had made an entrance. Although it hadn't snowed yet, it was freezing. Trees were bare and the grass had turned brown. Louisville usually didn't see snow until late December or early January. She cuffed her hands in front of her mouth and blew inside to warm them. When she got to the front door, Mr. Buzby, who worked the front desk at night, let her in.
“There's my favorite girl,” he said as she walked through the door.
“Mr. Buzby. Hello. It's always a pleasure.” Usually she'd stop and talk to him for a few minutes, but not tonight. She breezed past him and toward the elevators.
“So you're in a hurry again,” he said, disappointed.
“Yes, sir,” she replied. “I gotta be back at the gym by seven-thirty.”
“I see things are going well.”
The elevator flew open and she stepped inside. “Let's just say I'm moving forward,” she said as the door closed.
Elise had the keys to her grandma's apartment, but to respect her privacy, she always liked to knock and allow her grandmother to answer the door.
“Elise, is that you?” her grandma asked.
“Yes, ma'am,” she replied, and waited patiently as the old woman made her way to the door and finally unfastened all the locks to open it.
“Hey, beautiful,” Elise said, and embraced her.
“I don't feel so beautiful today,” her grandma replied as they walked back into her one-bedroom place. “I've been on the toilet all day, and anything that was once in me is now gone.”
Elise giggled at her grandma's candidness. She'd always been out-spoken. She followed her to the living room and sat next to her on the couch. “Well, I'm here to serve you up round two.”
“I don't see why I gotta go through this again. I tell you, that stuff you gave me this morning did the job.”
Elise rubbed her grandma's arm. “I hear you talking, but you need to follow the doctor's instructions. I'm sure if he wants you to take this medicine twice today, it's for a good reason.” She stood up. “And now, Mrs. Ross, I'm going to serve you the best-tasting laxative you've had in your life.”
“Easy for you to say. You're not spending a day eating clear gelatin and sitting on the toilet.”
“Well, just look at it this way—after you go through your procedure tomorrow, I'm going to make sure you have your favorite dish: roast beef and potatoes.”
Elise walked into the kitchen, mixed together the medication in a mug and then walked it back in to her. “Now, Grandma, you know I can't stay long. I have a meeting that I have to get to back over at the gym.”
“I know, Elise. I know you're busy, and I appreciate all that you do for me.”
“Grandma, you know I don't mind at all.”
“Yeah, I know, but you had to stop doing your work to come and see about me.”
“Here, Grandma, take this.” Elise handed her the mug.
Grandma Ross sat the mug down on the coffee table. “Okay, but first I have to do something.” She pulled herself off the sofa and walked into her bedroom. Elise followed her to make sure everything was all right.
Her grandma's bedroom, as well as the rest of the apartment, was neat. Elise came back home with her every Sunday after church and helped her clean the place. Sometimes they'd go out for dinner afterward, and other times they'd get carryout or rent a movie to watch. Their time spent together after church had decreased lately since she'd been busy with the opening of the gym. Elise would help her grandma clean, but then she'd go back to her own apartment to prepare for the week or try to find a moment to rest.
Her grandma walked around to the far side of her queen-size bed, opened the top drawer of the nightstand, and pulled out a ten dollar bill. Elise just stood there at the door of the bedroom, shaking her head. “Grandma, I hope that's not for me 'cause you know I'm not taking it.”
“Oh, don't be like that,” Mrs. Ross said as she walked toward Elise. “You've helped me so much, and I know that you've put everything that you have into that gym.”
“Yes, I'm putting a lot into the gym, but I also got a small business loan. I'm okay, Grandma.”
“I know you're okay, but please let me give you this, just this time.” Grandma Ross tried to force the bill into her hand.
Elise gripped her hand closed and responded, “That's what you always say. Now, come in here and take this laxative. I gotta be leaving soon.”
Grandma Ross balled the bill into her own hand, walked past Elise over to the coffee table, picked up the mug, and drank down the laxative.
“Remember, Grandma, I'm gonna be here to pick you up at nine o'clock in the morning. I'll call you when I'm on my way.” Elise walked over and hugged her grandmother. Grandma Ross put her arms around her granddaughter and stuck the money into the pants pocket of Elise's warm-up suit.
“I felt that,” Elise scorned her. “I love you so much, Grandma, but you're gonna have to stop this.” She removed the money from her pocket and placed it on the table. “Listen, I've gotta go. I will see you tomorrow.” Elise shook her head and walked toward the door.
ELISE PULLED INTO her parking space at Gotta Flip. Hers was the only car there, and although she didn't have her sign up yet, she envisioned the one she'd put up, which would read miss elise's parking space. A huge smile spread across her face. Every time she got close to that place, her energy level increased by volumes, which was a good thing. She needed that extra energy, because in order to be prepared for her opening day, she had to get impossible amounts of work done.
She got out of the car, grabbed her gym bag, and walked up to the door of the huge warehouse, which had gray siding and two huge, garage-style entrance doors on either side of the main door. Elise was glad to have those—she'd open them during the summer months to save on electricity.
By the time Elise turned on the light switch, she heard a car pull up. Her seventy-thirty appointment had arrived. She brushed her hair back with her hands and rummaged through her bag for some lip balm to throw on before Allen walked through the door. The gym was freezing, but she unzipped her warm-up suit so her leotard would show through. She wanted to give him something appealing to look at since her hair was a mess. Elise was short, five-one, with broad shoulders, thick, athletic thighs, and a small waist. She had the body of a gymnast.
Allen rang the bell outside, and Elise bounced over to the door to let him in.
“Hi, sorry I'm late,” he said, as he walked through the door and dropped a box beside him.
“It's only seven thirty-five. I just got here myself. Don't worry about it. Did you bring the T-shirts?” she asked.
“Of course I did,” he responded confidently. He reached into the box to pull one out and threw it to Elise, who caught it with one hand. “This is an extra one—my way of showing my appreciation for your business.”
“Thank you,” Elise said, unfolding the shirt to examine Allen's work. “It looks good!” she said enthusiastically. Allen was her all-purpose promotions and marketing go-to man. She'd gotten his information from the guy who eventually installed her alarm system—she'd liked the layout of the flyer promoting his business. When she inquired about who'd made it, he gave her Allen's contact information. Allen had been a part of conceiving and developing Gotta Flip's image ever since.
“You ready to get to work?” he asked, slapping the bag he was carrying on his shoulder.
“Yeah, I am. Let's go over to the tumble track. The desk will be installed tomorrow.”
“That's cool. We can work on the tumble track,” he said, playfully mocking Elise's voice. Then he looked past Elise. “Whoa, this place is dope!” Allen yelled. “So much has changed since I was here last. It looks like a red, white, and blue playground.”
The layout wasn't yet complete, although there were several pieces of equipment properly placed throughout. The walls were painted white, but the back wall was red with the Gotta Flip logo boldly centered on it. Hanging from the ceiling were three flags: on the left was the official USA Gymnastics banner, on the right was a flag of the United States, and in the middle was a banner bearing the Gotta Flip logo. The floor was covered with blue carpet. There were six balance beams of various heights and two sets of regulation uneven bars. Along the length of the carpet was a long path sectioned off with white tape, leading to a vault.
The two walked onto the carpet.
“Why is it so soft and bouncy?” Allen asked, thrown off-guard.
“Well, it's cheaper to create an ultrasoft tumbling area than to buy individual tumbling mats. Imagine kids tumbling from one corner of the floor to the next,” Elise said. “The front is going to be the receptionist area and store.”
Her eyes lit up as she talked, and the energy surrounding her was contagious.
“You're selling clothes?”
“Yeah! You know, supplemental money—leotards, T-shirts, shorts. Things like that.”
“I thought you were giving away the T-shirts we made for you?”
“I am, but only to kids who pay for a full semester of classes in advance.”
“You are quite the businesswoman,” he replied as he followed her toward the long, rectangular trampoline, which extended the full length of the wall and ran parallel to the vault track.
“Yeah, but my rates are reasonable, affordable. I've had to come up with other ways to make money, like merchandising and the weekend gymnastics-themed parties.”
“If you don't watch yourself, you'll soon be like me, without a life outside of work.”
“Well, I used to have a life outside of work, but it wasn't that exciting a life.”
Allen looked at the trampoline. “I've never seen one like this before. Aren't they usually round?”
Elise laughed. “They can be, but this is called a tumble track. Kids will use this to work on getting over their fear of advanced stunts, and once they're more comfortable they'll move to the floor. But look!” she said, running to the end of the track. Allen followed her to the edge of a deep, perfectly square hole in the floor. It was filled with huge red, white, and blue foam squares.
“What you got going on here, girl?” Allen asked, and moved as far away from the hole as he could in a single leap.
Elise burst into laughter. “This is what is called 'the pit.' Go ahead, jump into it!” she teased.
“Naw, I'm cool,” Allen said.
“At least come closer and check it out!” she insisted.
“I can see it fine from here,” he replied.
“When the kids get to advanced tumbling passes that they're still uncomfortable with completing, they'll complete the pass into the pit. It builds courage,” Elise said.
Allen nodded in agreement as he listened. He said, “That seems good and all, but I can't understand for the life of me how tumbling into a hole in the ground of a building is going to make a child less scared.” He took one more step backward at the thought of falling into it. “Let's get away from the pit so that we can get some work done.”
“All right,” Elise said, amused that someone like Allen, who always seemed reserved and cool and on top of his business, could break out into a sweat at the sight of a foam-filled playground for kids.
The two sat down on the edge of the tumble track farthest away from the pit. Allen pulled out folders and samples, including the completed flyer that would be mailed throughout neighborhoods nearby and passed out by his street promotions team over the weekend at the West End Winter Festival.
Elise read over the flyer to check for errors. She didn't see any. “This is great,” she said.
“So you approve?” he asked.
When he'd first met Elise, she was up-front about how important the image of the gym was going to be. She'd informed him she wouldn't bite her tongue if she wasn't pleased with his work.
“I do.”
“Just checking,” he replied, and then pulled out samples of custom-designed business cards, letterhead, thank-you cards, and student applications. All were exactly what Elise had asked for.
“I can't believe that all of this is coming together so well and on time,” she said. “It all looks great.”
“When you work with the best, you get the best,” Allen bragged.
Elise couldn't argue with him one bit. She liked his work, but more than that, she was beginning to like him. She even liked his arrogance. She'd been attracted to him from the start but promised herself that for the sake of building and keeping a successful business relationship with him she wouldn't make any indications that she was even the slightest bit intereste
d in him. Then, after he began coming around and consistently producing quality work, she began to like him even more. Covering up how she felt toward him was becoming more difficult a task every time she was in his presence. She liked his laid-back yet professional demeanor. He made her feel like no matter what she requested of him, it could be done.
She found herself smiling at him as he was going through one of the folders in his bag.
“I brought your invoice with me,” he said as he passed it to her.
“Oh, let me get my checkbook.” When she returned, Allen was pushing down on the trampoline with his hand.
“You want to get on the tumble track?”
“I'm already on it,” he responded.
“I mean, do you want to jump on it?”
“Are you crazy?”
“Come on!” Elise yelled as she hopped on behind him and began to jump.
The papers they had laid on the trampoline were bouncing with her. Allen quickly shuffled them together and shoved them back into his bag. Then he stood up off the track and placed the bag on the floor.
“Come on,” Elise persuaded.
“No!” he replied.
“I'm not going to give you your check until you get up here.”
“That's fine with me. You just won't get your stationery delivered next Tuesday.”
She saw his keys were still on the track, so she scooped them up.
“Stop playing, Elise!” he demanded. “I can't believe you're acting like this. What happened to your professionalism?”
“Just jump once, and I'll give you your keys. Or are you too cool to get up here?” Elise was surprised by her own actions, but she had already started, so she continued. It was fun. Plus, she believed that everyone, no matter how old, how cool, or how reserved should experience jumping on a trampoline. “Just one little jump,” she begged.
The Night Before Thirty Page 4
