by RM Johnson
“Okay,” he said. She had asked Lewis’s name, after she had pulled the first suit she wanted him to try on. “And my name is Monica,” she told him, extending her hand for him to shake. Lewis did, and almost tripped up and told her he already knew her name was Monica.
But since then, he barely said two words to her, afraid that he would say the wrong thing, or that she wouldn’t be receptive to what he did say to her.
Lewis looked at himself in the mirror as he started to undress, already starting to accept the fact that he was failing at the task that was given to him. He pulled off his shirt, stepped out of his pants.
He couldn’t fail, he told himself. He was getting paid a ridiculous amount for this, and besides that, if he was successful, he would end up one day making love to that beautiful woman walking around out there.
Just the thought of that started to make Lewis grow just a little bit within his boxer shorts. Yeah, he had to do something that would tilt things his way, he told himself.
He looked at himself again in the mirror, saw that his muscles all still looked pretty tight from his intense workout a week ago, and without giving it any more thought, he opened the dressing room door and walked out into the store.
He called Monica’s name, but the person whose attention he had gotten was the woman who was standing behind the counter when he first walked in.
She was draping clothes across a sofa when she turned and caught sight of Lewis half naked, his muscles bulging and rippling under his dark brown skin.
Tabatha stood up straight, her mouth falling open, her eyes ballooning.
“Have you seen Monica?” Lewis said, naively. “I need another size.”
Tabatha didn’t answer right away; it didn’t even seem to Lewis that she had heard a word he said, because all of her attention seemed to be directed toward his crotch.
“Excuse me,” Lewis said again. “You see the woman that was helping me?”
Just then, Monica came from around a corner. “Oh! Lewis, I’m sorry,” she said, hurrying toward him, trying to turn her head away at the same time. “You can go back into the dressing room. What size do you need?” she asked, sounding slightly flustered, after he walked back in.
“Forty-eight.”
“Okay. Be right back.”
Lewis pressed up very close to the door when he heard the women’s voices.
“Girl! Did you see all that brotha had going on!”
“Shhhhh! Come over here,” he heard Monica say. “He might hear you.”
“I don’t care. He knows what he has. And if he doesn’t, I’d like to point it out to him.”
Lewis laughed, shaking his head, and waited till Monica brought back his correct size.
Fifteen minutes later, Lewis wore the suit he had chosen, facing a three-way mirror as Monica placed the last straight pin in the hem of his trousers. She stood up and walked behind him, and checked the waist of his jacket to make sure she marked that right, along with his shoulders and arms.
“Okay. That’s perfect. The tailor will have this ready for you tomorrow,” Monica said.
“You really like it?” Lewis said.
“Yeah. It looks good on you. It accents your broad shoulders.”
“Thank you,” Lewis said, smiling. “How about that tie over there?”
Monica pulled the tie Lewis was referring to from the shelf, and draped it over one of his shoulders. “Yeah, this look good. You want it?”
“I want to see how it looks on first.”
Monica held out the tie to him.
“Can you do it for me?”
Monica looked at Lewis oddly for a moment, then said, “Sure.”
She slipped the tie under Lewis’s collar, then stood just in front of him measuring the two sides.
“You know, I’m kinda embarrassed to say this, because I know you get it all the time,” Lewis said, “but I think you are very beautiful.”
“Well, thank you,” Monica said, avoiding eye contact with him.
“I would really like to get to know you better.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m married,” Monica said, halfway through with the tie.
“You’re husband’s a very, very lucky man. I hope he’s treating you right.”
Monica’s motions stopped for a moment, as if a thought entered her head, then she continued.
“Does that mean he’s not?”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Monica said, looking up at Lewis. “If it means anything, it’s that it’s none of your business how my husband treats me.”
“Then how about we be friends? Who doesn’t need a friend to talk to every now and then?”
“You know, that’s the lamest line in the book,” Monica said, pulling on his tie, tightening the knot. “You get an F for originality for that one. There. The tie looks good. See.”
Lewis turned around to face the mirror.
“Now go back in the dressing room, take off everything, and I’ll make sure the tailor gets it.”
“You sure you don’t want to help me?”
“Oh, I see you’re a clown. Bring the stuff up front when you’re done, please, sir,” Monica said, chuckling, waving him off.
Lewis closed the door of the dressing room and started to disrobe, actually feeling pretty confident about himself. Yes, he was blown off, but she wasn’t angry or offended by his come-on. She laughed him off, and even though it seemed like forever since he really made an effort to get with a new woman, back in the day, his game was pretty tight.
Joking as though he really wasn’t interested in them, but making women sure that they always had the option to accept his advances if they eventually became interested, was how he found himself between the thighs of many women.
He would just continue to play it that way, and if Mr. Kenny continued to hold up his end, then everything should work out just as they planned.
31
Lewis Waters was the name on the card he had given Monica, after he had paid for his suit.
Monica looked down at it as she was waiting for his receipt to print out.
“Oh, real estate developer, hunh?”
“Yes.” Lewis nodded.
“Well, I won’t be needing any real estate anytime soon, so I guess I won’t be needing your card.” She handed it back to him.
“Keep it anyway. My office number is on there, as well as my cell phone, and I’ve written my home on the back, just in case,” he said, playfully winking.
“You are a trip,” Monica said, handing the man his receipt. “You can pick that up anytime tomorrow.”
“What time will you be here?”
“You can pick it up whenever. I don’t have to be here.”
“I know. I just want to see your smiling face again.”
“Good-bye, sir,” Monica said, waving him off, walking away from the counter.
Tabatha still stood there, eyeing Lewis, a sly smile on her face.
“See you tomorrow.” Lewis waved.
“Byyyyye,” Tabatha said, dreamy-eyed, waving good-bye.
When the store door closed, Tabatha rushed from around the counter and into the storeroom, where Monica was pulling some garments out of plastic.
“Did you see that brotha!”
“Yes, I saw him,” Monica said, not turning around, and not equaling Tabatha’s excitement.
“Did you see his body!”
“Yeah. Saw that too.”
“Well, what did you think?” Tabatha said.
“Why does it matter what I think?”
“Because he obviously has a thing for you.”
Monica turned around, garments stacked in her arms.
“Not to sound high on myself or anything, but practically every guy that comes in here is hitting on me or you. Why should he be any different?” she said, walking past Tabatha and out of the storeroom.
“Because he was, like…wow!” Tabatha said. “You see his abs? You see that smile?”
“Naw, I didn’t n
otice all that.”
“And that’s why you were like, Aw, you so crazy, sir. Laughing at all his jokes, batting your eyes at him,” Tabatha said, making fun of Monica.
“I was not.”
“And you were blushing, smiling all up in his face.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, girl,” Monica said in denial.
“I’m sure you’ll have a better idea of what I’m talking about tomorrow, then.”
When Monica walked in the store that next morning, she hoped Tabatha wouldn’t notice, but the woman immediately busted her out upon seeing her.
“Oh! Did a little something different with your hair. I wonder why that is?”
“Maybe because I got tired of the old style I was wearing,” Monica said.
“And it has nothing to do with Mr. Real Estate Developer, who you know is coming to pick up his suit today?”
“Get back to work, Tabatha.”
When Lewis did return, he greeted Monica with that wide, white grin of his, giving her a compliment the moment he set eyes on her. “Hey, I love the new hairstyle,” he said. And it happened to be the right compliment at that.
“Thank you,” Monica said, unable to stop herself from smiling.
From the corner of the store, she felt Tabatha give her a look, which Monica did not acknowledge.
“So, I believe your suit is ready, sir,” Monica said, walking from behind the counter and toward the tailor’s suite.
“Would you stop calling me ‘sir’? My name is Lewis,” he said, before agreeing to follow her.
Monica stopped, turned back to face him, then said, “Okay, then. Your suit is this way. You can follow me, Lewis.”
“Okay, but first, I think I saw another one I might be interested in.”
He tried on the suit, liked it, and Monica went about the task of measuring him, marking and pinning the suit while he wore it. All the while, he complimented her on every little thing he could think of. He commented on how nice her hands were, how pretty her nails were.
“You must work out,” he said. “You have such a slim figure…I love your voice…it’s too sexy…Don’t ever change your hair. It’s perfect just like that.”
Monica really tried to keep herself from blushing, from smiling, but all the while she was working on his suit, she could not help herself. Maybe because his flirting wasn’t offensive. It wasn’t like he was some construction worker on a corner, a jackhammer in his grip, flicking his tongue out at her, yelling, “Hey, pussycat. I’d love to stroke your fur.”
No, this was a successful, handsome, polite man, who was buying his second suit in excess of $700. And then there was the fact that he was funny, interesting, and she enjoyed his company. Monica figured if she wasn’t helping Lewis out, she would be doing the same for some other guy, so why not let it be him?
Then Monica realized that the true reason she was so receptive to this man’s flirting was simply that she was not getting it at home, when she had grown so accustomed to it.
This morning, when she was walking into the kitchen, her husband had seen the new hairstyle but said nothing of it. Barely lifted his head out of the paper long enough to verify that it was his wife walking about, and not some stranger.
But this Lewis guy picked up on it the moment he stepped in the store.
At the register, Lewis had the suit he bought yesterday thrown over his shoulder, and Monica had given him back his credit card.
Lewis took the card, slipped it into his wallet, then said, “So, I’ll be back tomorrow to pick it up.”
“Sure,” Monica said. “And thank you.” She was still smiling as she watched him turn and walk toward the door. He stopped just before reaching it, looked down at his watch, then turned back and approached the counter again.
“You know,” Lewis said, “I feel hungry all of a sudden, and after checking my watch, I see it’s lunchtime. You want to grab something with me?”
Right before he finished the question, Tabatha was walking out of the storeroom. She stopped in her tracks and stared up at Monica, as if waiting to see what her answer would be.
She didn’t decline right away, but finally said, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
Lewis looked over at Tabatha, then back at Monica. “Are you sure? Just a little harmless lunch. I swear I won’t try to cop a feel under the table.”
Monica let out an uncomfortable laugh. “No. I brought some stuff in Tupperware anyway, but thanks.”
“Okay,” Lewis said. “Guess I’ll see you two tomorrow.”
After he left the store, Tabatha said, “It was just lunch.”
“Yeah, right,” Monica said.
The next day Lewis came, he bought yet another suit, Monica marked it, and they spoke some more. This time, deeper things, like where she went to school, what did she want to be when she grew up, and not quite so many compliments, although there were enough to have her smiling and blushing again. And after their ritual was over, it was lunchtime again.
“So how about today? Lunch?”
“No. I don’t think so,” Monica said, feeling just the slightest bit guilty about turning him down, because he was so nice, had bought three suits from her, and she figured, if they could have a good time while she stood around and hemmed his pants, lunch would probably be a blast.
So the next day, the fourth day in a row that Lewis appeared at the store, he did not sway from the routine. Again he bought another suit, and again he proposed they go for lunch.
Tabatha was standing beside Monica at the counter, and she said, “Yeah, you should go. It’s slow around here.”
Monica cut her eyes at Tabatha, then said to Lewis, “I had a big breakfast, so I’m okay.”
Lewis smiled. “Okay, I’m going to do something different, then. I’m telling you today that I want you to eat lunch with me tomorrow. That way you’ll know not to have a big breakfast.”
“Lewis, I really—” Monica tried to say, but was stopped.
“Nope. I just lost my hearing. I’ll be back tomorrow to pick up my suit, and to have lunch with you. See you then, and bye, Tabatha.”
Lewis left the store, and left Monica looking evilly at Tabatha.
“I like him” Tabatha said, “because he never forgets to say good-bye to me. He makes me feel included.”
“To hell with your inclusion,” Monica said. “Why are you trying to convince me to go to lunch with that man? Have you forgotten, I’m married?”
“Excuse me. I’m not the one you need to be reminding of that. That seems to have slipped your husband’s mind.”
“Nate hasn’t forgotten anything.”
“So you guys are all lovey-dovey again? Everything back to normal, is it?”
“Not quite.”
“He kisses you every morning before leaving for work, tells you how much he loves you, and makes passionate love to you every night before going to bed?”
“I can’t remember the last time he told me he loved me. Can’t remember when he paid me my last compliment, and I almost forget how sex feels, it’s been so long, but—”
“But what?” Tabatha said. “No one’s telling you to sleep with this Lewis guy. You obviously have fun with him. I hear you guys laughing like crazy while you’re marking his suit. Hell, go to lunch with the man. He’s crazy about you, and he lets you know it. If your husband don’t want to stroke your ego, let another man do it. You don’t have to spread your legs to say thank you. Just say, ‘Thank you,’ and walk your ass back here to work afterward.”
Monica took in everything that Tabatha said. And in many ways she was right, but still Monica shook her head, and said, “Naw. If I’m going to lunch with a man, it should be my husband.”
“Okay. Okay,” Tabatha said, picking up the phone and handing the receiver to Monica. “Dial up old Nate, and tell him that you want to have lunch with him today.”
Monica looked hesitantly at the phone. “I don’t know. Maybe—”
“No
,” Tabatha said, forcing the phone into her hand. “If you’re going to lunch with a man, then it should be your husband. Dial the numbers, Monica.”
Monica dialed Nate’s number, got his secretary, and surprisingly, a moment later was speaking to Nate. Tabatha stood beside her, intently listening.
“Yeah, baby. I was wondering if you wanted to go to lunch today…Well, I can go whenever…Then I can just come over there,” Monica said, turning away from Tabatha, who was staring right into her mouth. “No, it’s really not a problem. I could just pick up something, and we can eat in your office, like we used to do sometimes…Well, are you sure, because…Yeah…yeah…I understand…Okay, I won’t wait up. Good-bye.”
Monica slowly handed the phone over to Tabatha, who placed it back onto its base.
“So?” Tabatha asked.
“So, what? You heard what happened.”
“So you’ll be going to lunch with Lewis tomorrow. It’s just lunch, like I said.”
“No,” Monica said. “I’ll be going to lunch with my husband tomorrow.”
“Is that what he said.”
“No. But he’ll be taking me. Trust me.”
32
Nate hung up his office phone, picked it back up, and quickly dialed another number.
When the phone was picked up, Nate said, “Lewis. Are you somewhere you can talk?”
“Yes.”
“I just got off the phone with my wife. She seemed adamant about me taking her to lunch. Exactly what’s going on?” He had just spoken to Lewis yesterday, as he had been doing every day to keep abreast of Lewis’s progress. The boy told him everything he was doing, and Nate approved his steps, but the phone call from Monica today made Nate feel he needed to check in.
“Nothing’s going on, Mr. Kenny. I just been asking her out to lunch like I told you. But today, I told her I was taking her whether she liked it or not. That’s all.”
Nate didn’t like the idea that Lewis felt he could demand anything of his wife, but he was paying the boy to get results, and if that’s what he had to do to achieve them, then so be it.
“And that was it?” Nate said. “You aren’t moving too fast?”
