Romulus

by Tina Martin

  Chapter 9

  Siderra

  When I talked to Romulus yesterday, I thought the conversation would be much different. I thought he felt the same level of insane passion I did when we kissed. Thought he would really be open to discussing and trying to make sense of it. Talk about why it happened and delve deeper into our attraction for each other. I wanted to tell him the kiss we shared was special – that it touched my soul and solidified my belief that there was something between us. Now, I’m left believing it was all in my head, especially after he brushed it off as just another kiss.

  He said it like it wasn’t a big deal—like the kiss had no effect on him whatsoever when I know it did. He has feelings for me. Deeper feelings that go beyond us being friends but he won’t explore those feelings. We’d began to explore them Tuesday night, but he stopped like he was doing something wrong. Said, I can’t do this to you.

  I want to know what that means. I want to know why he kissed me the way he did. Why he touched me. Why he left passion marks all over my neck. I want to know why he wanted me.

  But he doesn’t want to talk about it. Why? Because it involves feelings.

  It’s torture to have such deep feelings for someone and never have those feelings returned. He kissed me Tuesday night like he was dying and I was his life support for goodness sakes. But, yesterday, he dismissed it like it was nothing. And then he had the nerve to drop by my shop around three o’clock. Said he’d taken the light rail to scope out some land. Was he really looking for land, or was this just an excuse to see me?

  * * *

  Near closing time, the chirp of my shop door alerts me that someone has entered the store. I forgot to lock the door again. I emerge from my office to see Jamar walking in. I should’ve known it wasn’t a legit customer this late on a Thursday.

  Jamar waves and says, “Hi. Remember me?”

  “I’m sorry, Jamar. I’ve been swamped. I haven’t been ignoring you.” I close the distance between us and give him a lazy hug. I immediately notice the difference between his torso and Romulus’. Jamar, though in shape, is a bit scrawny. Romulus’ body is thick and tight. Muscly.

  I release him. Our eyes meet. “How are you?” I ask.

  “Doing well. I haven’t heard from you since our date. Did I do something wrong because, if so, tell me? I can whip up an apology song and get back in your good graces in no time.”

  I grin. “There’s no need for all of that. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve just been busy.”

  “Glad to hear it,” he says picking up a bar of homemade, lemongrass glycerin soap, smelling it. “Hey, I’m performing at the Music Factory tomorrow night—wanted to see if you’d be interested in coming.”

  “That sounds great, Jamar. I can’t believe you booked a gig at the Music Factory.”

  “I did. I’ve been trying to book that gig for a while now. They finally called.”

  “Your persistence paid off. Congratulations!”

  “Thank you.”

  “How many songs will you do?”

  “Three. Maybe four depending on the time. We’ll see. I’m just glad you’ll be there,” he says looping his arms around me.

  I felt the moment my body locked up. I’m not used to a man grabbing me like this – well except for Romulus on occasion. I loosen up a bit when Jamar asks, “Is there anything I can do to help you close up the shop?”

  “No. I’ve got it handled. I was just about to go before you came in.”

  He releases me. “I need to head home, too. It’s been a long day.”

  “Don’t I know it…”

  “Well, you have a good night, Siderra.”

  “You too. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “It’s a date,” he says walking toward the front.

  I wave as he exits then lock up, turn out the lights and leave out of the back to go up to my apartment. Romulus was right. I feel like an old lady. All I want to do is sleep.

  Chapter 10

  Romulus

  Work was easygoing today since Ramsey wasn’t there. He only came in the office for urgent matters since he was still on paternity leave. He was available from his home office by email and phone but Romulus didn’t need to contact him about anything today. The only pressing task he had was to write the report for the land information along the blue line light rail that Ramsey had requested and he would get to that before Monday’s status meeting.

  Right now, he was focused on going out with Siderra. Since their kiss, he’d been curious to see if – when he spent a significant amount of time with her again – those feelings would resurface. It didn’t go over his head that she wanted to talk in depth about what had transpired between them. When she brought it up Wednesday, he wasn’t ready to talk about it. She was. He detected the disappointment in her voice when he shut it down and quickly changed subjects. Maybe if the opportunity presented itself, they could discuss it tonight.

  Maybe.

  The kiss, her moans – that feeling – a feeling unlike anything he’d ever experienced before was permanently engrained into his memory. It took an inordinate amount of self-restraint to peel himself off of her and walk out of her bedroom that night, but he did it because she wasn’t just another woman he’d sleep with and forget about. She was Siderra. His best friend. The woman who kept him straight in college. A woman he respected and loved.

  He smiled. He had always enjoyed her company. He was relaxed around her and free to be himself. He didn’t have to go above and beyond to impress Siderra. So why did he want to, especially tonight?

  He’d left work early to go to the barber for a fresh line up. He got the beard trimmed, too, since deciding to keep it for a while. He didn’t have to go shopping for a new outfit – he had brand new clothes hanging in his closet. He snatched the price tag off of a pair of 7 For All Mankind jeans, pairing it with a solid, dark blue Nautica tee and a black, Gucci belt. He completed his outfit with a pair of navy, Giuseppe mid-top sneakers and a spray of Gentlemen Only by Givenchy.

  He jumped in the BMW, heading her way. In the fast lane on I-485, he called her but didn’t get an answer. So he just drove, merged off onto Exit 65. On I-77 now, the rain was starting. He turned on his wipers and dialed her again.

  Still, there was no answer.

  Where are you, Siderra Monroe?

  She probably didn’t answer because she was in the shower or so focused on getting dolled up, she didn’t hear her phone ring. He imagined what she would wear tonight. Would she put any effort into her outfit like she had when she went out with Jamar? Wear lipstick? Leave her hair down instead of up in a ponytail? Or, would she be her typical self – jeans and T-shirt? Hair in a bun? Gloss on her lips? Either way, she was still pretty.

  When he arrived at her apartment, he got out and ran up the stairs, knocked on the door and waited for a minute.

  He knocked again but didn’t hear a peep coming from her apartment. He took out his cell, dialed her number. After four rings, it went to voicemail. He decided to send her a text message:

  Romulus: Hey, I’m outside. Where are you?

  Chapter 11

  Siderra

  I’ve never been to the Music Factory but I’m glad I’m here to see Jamar’s performance. It’s not until I arrive that I find out the Music Factory is its own little oasis that hosts a variety of venues. Jamar is performing at The Fillmore. Apparently, it’s local artist night where musicians from all around Charlotte come to showcase their talents. I’ve watched three already. I’m anxious and nervous for Jamar to come out and do his thing.

  They call Jamar to the stage. He comes out, guitar in hand, and waves at the cheering crowd. As they were for the previous performers, they’re all turned up and ready for Jamar to perform. There are about a hundred and fifty people at this particular event but it appears this place can hold a lot more.

  He begins stroking the guitar strings. The crowd goes wild. When he sings, they go bananas. I hear somebody shout, ‘Sing yo’ song boy’, while
others comment on how good he is.

  He is good. Besides being able to play the guitar well, Jamar can sing pretty darn good. His voice reminds me of the singer Joe. The ladies love Joe, so I’m sure Jamar has a fan club up in here.

  Jamar wore his dreads up in a ponytail. He has on ripped jeans and I’m not talking modest rips. His jeans look like he was attacked by a pack of wolves right before he went on stage. I guess that’s hip – the way an artist is supposed to be. Eclectic and flamboyant. Like the mustard-colored, leather jacket he’s wearing that has more zippers than any jacket I’ve ever seen.

  He finishes the first two songs and he’s on to song number three. His eyes scan the crowd. I want to think he’s looking for me. I’m in the second row behind a group of girls who all decided to rock their natural hair afros tonight. I’ve been peeping around bushes all night and standing on my tiptoes moving to the right and to the left to get a good view of the stage. I find a slither of a view. I can see Jamar now. He’s making direct, deliberate eye contact with someone in the crowd, and it’s not me. It’s a light-skinned, black woman with light brown dreads holding a single red rose. She’s staring at Jamar like she’s star-struck. I don’t think she blinked once. Maybe she’s an obsessed fan. With a voice like his, I’m sure he has those, so I don’t think much of it. That is until she walks up to him near the bar after his set is over and greets him with an all-encompassing bear hug. He looks just as excited to see her.

  “Hey, thanks for the rose.” He tells her. “I’m glad you made it.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” she says.

  They hug again – one of those I-miss-you hugs that has me thinking these two have been more than just acquaintances.

  Jamar sees me. He breaks away from rose lady and asks, “Siderra, how was it?”

  I don’t get a hug – just a deer-in-headlights look.

  “It was a wonderful performance,” I say making it a point to look at him and not his fan. “You’re a natural.”

  “Thank you,” he tells me, then glances over at rose lady.

  I look at her, too since she’s looking at me like she’s waiting for the moment I walk away so she can have Jamar all to herself again.

  “Siderra, this is Meshal. Meshal, this is my friend Siderra.”

  Rose lady – I mean, Meshal, smiles. “Nice to meet you, Siderra.”

  “You as well,” I respond being polite although I’m not sure who this woman is because while Jamar introduced me as a friend, he didn’t clarify who Meshal was. I suppose she could be a friend, but if she is, why didn’t he just say that?

  * * *

  On the drive home, I inquire about Meshal.

  He tells me, “Meshal and I are just friends. We used to date. She’s a singer, too. We keep in touch to follow each other’s careers.”

  “So you told her you were performing tonight.”

  “Not directly. I did post it on Facebook. I’m sure she saw it there and decided to surprise me.”

  “Which means she’s one of your Facebook friends.”

  He glances over at me. Smiles. “Yes. She’s a Facebook friend.”

  He returns his attention to driving. It’s only drizzling, but his wipers are on full blast. It annoys me but I don’t speak on it. I’m still thinking about this chick, Meshal.

  “You’re jealous,” he says with a grin.

  “I’m not jealous. I just wanted to know who she was, especially since she was looking at you like you were a piece of Patti LaBelle sweet potato pie.”

  “You mean like how your friend Romulus was looking at you the other night.”

  “Not at all,” I say with a slight chuckle because I realize he’s deflecting.

  “Yeah, right. You can deny it but it’s pretty obvious to me.”

  “You would say that. You don’t know Romulus like I do.”

  Jamar slows to a stop in front of the store. It’s raining heavy now. Neither of us has an umbrella, so he takes off his Michael Jackson jacket before getting out of the car then holds it up over us like an umbrella. We run in the rain, laughing at how unprepared we are until we’re up the stairs standing at the door. He lowers the jacket, shakes off the excess rainwater.

  “I’m glad you made it tonight.”

  “Me too. Next time I’ll be sure to bring you a flower like Meshal.”

  “Ah, man,” he says as a look of embarrassment flushes his face. “You’re not going to forget that are you?”

  “Nope,” I say smiling. “But seriously you—” I can’t get another word out before he darts his head forward to seize my lips in one swoop. At first, I resist because I’ve saved these lips for one man. That man doesn’t like me like that so I release the tension from my body and allow myself to be in the moment. I feel a sense of excitement. It feels nice for a man to like me for me. It’s an amazing feeling to be wanted. I fold my arms around his neck and while rain hisses louder, we kiss.

  He pulls his mouth away, then takes a quick swipe over his wet lips with his thumb. “Have a good night, Siderra.”

  “You, too.”

  He leaves a final kiss on my cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Okay. Later.”

  He holds up his jacket and runs down the stairs in the rain.

  I go inside, take off my shoes and go straight to my bedroom. I’m so exhausted, I don’t take a shower. I strip down to my panties and throw on a T-shirt before falling across my bed.

  Chapter 12

  Romulus

  Romulus couldn’t believe his eyes or the sharp prickling of pain he felt in his heart, witnessing all of this go down. Since he couldn’t get a hold of Siderra, he parked inconspicuously near her apartment – police stakeout style – so he could actually see the moment she returned home. He had a hunch she was with Jamar. What other reason would she have to avoid his calls and text messages?

  His suspicions were right.

  He saw them running around the building in the rain together. Heard them laughing together. Climb the stairs together and he saw something that twisted his stomach – Jamar had leaned in for a kiss.

  When it happened, he grew incensed. It pained him to see another man’s lips on Siderra. He watched helplessly as Jamar touched her face and looked at her all dreamy-eyed. He probably tried to whisper sweet nothings in her ear, too.

  What did she see in Jamar, anyway? From his perspective, Jamar didn’t deserve a woman like Siderra. She was smart. Strong. Beautiful. Independent. She was too good of a person to get mixed up with a wannabe musician whose entire life would be dedicated to his mediocre music. Could she not see that this guy was bad news for her and if she could why waste time dating him? Why stand up your best friend to be with a guy you hardly know? And here he was thinking they were getting their friendship back on track after weeks of unsteadiness.

  When his phone rang, he thought it was her. Now that she was home from her date she wanted to call...

  How would she play it? Would she come up with some excuse that she’d forgotten about their movie date? That she had her nights mixed up? He wondered…

  When he glanced at the phone, he saw that it wasn’t her at all. It was Regal.

  “What’s up Regal?” he answered.

  “Yo, where you at? You home?”

  “Nah. I’m at—uh—I’m at Whiskey Warehouse.” He lied. What was he supposed to tell his brother? That he was parked near Siderra’s apartment, following her every move? And he didn’t want to give him the name of a NoDa restaurant because that would place him in Siderra’s neighborhood. Whiskey Warehouse, a restaurant in Plaza Midwood not far from NoDa, was closer to Uptown.

  “Are you alone?”

  He was, in every sense of the word. “Yeah, I’m flying solo tonight. Do you want to come thru? Have a drink?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be there in ten.”

  Romulus immediately started his car and took The Plaza Road, hurrying to get to Whiskey Warehouse before Regal since he had lied and told him he was al
ready there. He parked, got out quickly and ordered a draft beer.

  He checked his phone to see if there were any missed calls from Siderra. There weren’t any. No calls. No text messages. No nothing. Was she avoiding him? Again? Seemed every time she was with Jamar, he was suddenly at the bottom of her priority list. That, he didn’t like.

  “Hey, hey, hey, what’s up, bruh?” Regal said, walking in, patting Romulus on the shoulder.

  “Not much,” he said, slapping hands with Regal.

  Regal immediately flagged down a waitress.

  “Yes, Sir. What can I get for you?” she asked.

  “Bring me a Jack on the rocks and some ice water. Romulus, should we get some wings? I’m hungry.”

  “That’s fine,” Romulus said, though he wasn’t up to eating.

  “What kind of wings do you have, sweetie?” Regal asked the young waitress.

  “Um, we have lemon pepper, honey barbecue, salt and vinegar, Cajun, horseradish buffalo, Jack Daniel’s barbecue and spicy teriyaki.”

  “Okay. Let me get ten of the horseradish buffalo and ten of the teriyaki.”

  “You got it.”

  Regal glanced around the place, before focusing his attention back on Romulus. “So, what’s up, man? What are you doing here on a Friday night all by your lonesome? I figured you’d be somewhere in Uptown working the bars, checking out some honies, but you’re up in here, looking oddly sad I might add.”

  “I’m not sad,” Romulus said. “This draft has me mellow.”

  Regal raised a brow. “If you say so. Ay, where’s your sidekick?”

  Romulus shrugged, took a sip of beer.

  Regal chuckled. “You two—” He shook his head. “You and Derra have the oddest friendship I have ever seen, man.”

  “There’s nothing odd about it.”

  Regal raised his brows. “You don’t think there’s anything odd about a man and a woman being best friends? Especially a woman as hot as Siderra?”