by Derrick Jaxn
My phone rang again, shouting at me with anger because I didn't pick up the first time.
"Hello?" I answered, rubbing my temples.
"Bro, I got some good news. Some really, really good news. You ready?"
"P.?"
"Yeah, man, you don't know my voice? You sound like you just woke up. You just waking up?"
I pulled the phone from my face to look at the time. 10:34 a.m. I never slept that late.
"Um...yeah, I guess so. I think I just had like...the craziest dream ever."
I heard Rashonda's voice in the background and Pete moving to get away from her. He said, "Hold on."
I put the phone down and hooked it up to the auxiliary cord of the alarm clock radio so I could hear him while I walked over to the bathroom and brushed my teeth.
He came back, "Yeah, man, I was going to ask. How'd that go? You get to see her? You gotta fill me in."
"Yeah, I did." I spat out through a mouthful of toothpaste. "I think it went well, all things considered. I mean, we talked and stuff."
"Dude, seriously? That's so awesome. Is she there now or what?"
"Nah. I mean we were chillin', but I don't even know if she came back up here. I been so exhausted from all the traveling, I can't remember right now but it looks like I passed out on her. Had a weird dream that she had HIV but we were going to...never mind."
I spit again a few times to rinse my mouth out. Looked in the mirror to check for crust. It was there. I must've been sleeping like a rock.
"What are you doing?"
I cut off the faucet, "My bad. Just finished brushing my teeth."
"With what?"
"What you mean, with what? A toothbrush and toothpaste."
"Be careful, bro. Toothpaste has fluoride in it. That stuff is poison."
"I actually remember reading about that a while back. But I don't know of a good alternative. You?"
"Nah, nothing. I just stopped brushing."
I exhaled sympathetically. Dude was a trip.
Then I remembered everything I had seen about Rashonda. About her criminal past. I needed to bring this up before it was too late.
"Hey, P., Rashonda near you? Like...as in, can she hear me?"
"You're not going to believe this," he cut in with a question of his own to change the subject.
"Believe what?"
"I got promoted to manager over at Bigger Burger. Gonna be making nine dollars an hour now so I can finally buy my own house. Enough room for me, Shonda, and maybe even a little one. Hell, maybe two or three...or four...or ten."
I sighed, "How sure are you that you even really know her like that?"
"If you're talking about the stripping she did back in the day, I don't care. Remember, man, you gotta see her heart. Not her past."
"I get all that, P. but still, there's more to--"
"I'm coming, my Queen-sized Kit Kat!" he yelled away from the phone. I looked at the phone like it was crazy for even passing on Pete's weird ass pet name for Rashonda. "Hey, Shawn, I'll call you back. But just for future reference, I'd like your support on this. Really don't need the negativity."
"I'm your boy, P. You know I support you fully. I just think you'd want to at least know that--"
"Good deal. That's what I like to hear," he said, cutting me off. "Talk to ya soon and make sure you finish telling me about what happened with Danielle. Peace."
"But P.," I responded back as he hung up without hearing it.
Even if he heard me, I don't think he would've listened.
Rashonda's past seemed to be more in her present than he wanted to admit, especially if she was still lying to him about it.
Now that I think about it, she probably thought Pete was a baller. That's why she hooked up with him in the first place. Him borrowing my car. Fronting with his new clothes he always kept the tags on and receipts for, as well as my watches he had leased.
I'm guessing after that fell through, she actually did get close enough to someone with a little money, me, and that's where Dominique came in. That was supposed to bait me in. But that still doesn't explain why she would try herself, though. Hell, I don't know. It was all too much.
I didn't have the mental real estate to stress about that until I got my own business straight.
I hopped in the shower, double checking my penis to see whether or not I had sex. I could always tell the morning after because it'd feel worn out and overworked. I felt like anything less was a disrespect to the beauty of making love anyway.
But it didn't. Still freshly unsatisfied as it'd always been. Confirmation that I'd indeed spent the night alone.
And this time, it turned out to be a good thing.
***
"Yeah, I'm going to be leaving too tomorrow. Gotta get back to work," I said.
"Okay, so if I do meet you tonight, then what? You're just...gone?"
"Well, I'm hoping we can talk about all that when you get here. eight p.m., sharp. I'll send a driver for you about an hour prior."
Danielle responded, "Okay then. Yes, I'll see you later on mister." Her tone seemed to be smiling through the phone.
Stacy found me a beautiful resort at Colorado Springs. A beach would've been better, but the closest one was about a twelve hour drive so a lake-front vacation condo would have to do.
I wanted a follow up from the previous night with Danielle. Hopefully seal things between us and get a definitive on where she stood. The vibes were great so far, but there was a hint of doubt in every moment we had that stifled my confidence.
Since we'd only met up twice since I'd come in town, spur of the moment and nothing really planned out or coordinated, I decided to switch things up one last time.
I spent the better part of the day planning, working out every detail, and scheduling down to the very last minute.
There was a heat wave, giving me one night out above sixty degrees, and I planned on taking full advantage. I had a table set up in the back lawn complete with an off-white linen cloth, silverware, a pot of lilies, and six-foot tall-fire lanterns for our dinner.
I considered getting a chef to cook, but Momma would have no part of that, being that she took pride in raising a man who could cook for himself (even though I'd never tell her just how bad of a cook I was). But about thirty minutes of recipe writing and helpful tips from her and I was in the condo cooking up a storm.
A little hors d'oeuvres on a bed of ice with cocktail sauce and a bottle of Chateau Montrose imported from France. I knew nothing about it, honestly, but at $300 a bottle, I figured it couldn't be too shabby.
We had this upscale seafood restaurant we went to back in college for special occasions, and none was more special than that night, so for the main course I stuck with the theme and boiled lobster tail, extracted from the shell, coconut rice, lemon peppered asparagus, and of course, homemade biscuits.
By the way, homemade biscuits are a bitch to make. I broke two wooden spoons trying to stir the mix before giving up and doing as Momma recommended and bare-hand combining it.
After dinner, the menu called for some strawberries and squares of pound cake dipped in white chocolate fondue. Originally, I was just going to do a fruit pizza, but the moment I mentioned it, Momma started cussing me out. Daring me to do a "damned fruit pizza on a night like this" and "wishing some man would try to call himself making fruit pizza for me like we twelve-year-olds at a slumber party."
I took her advice.
I pulled out the only suit I had packed, thankful that I packed at least one. It was a favorite of mine, skillfully tailored to fit snug on my six-foot-four, 265-pound frame. I'd always found it difficult to get a suit because of my build. Even after I finished my football career, I was hitting the gym like I was going to line up on kick-off one more Saturday afternoon fishing for highlight film material. My arms were still over twenty inches and my back was broader than most, which made for a headache when dealing with little elderly tailors that barely spoke English.
So the mome
nt I could afford it, I had a few constructed from the ground up, and it was one of the best investments I'd ever made.
With my fade brushed, my tie clip straight, and my shoes shined to perfection, I was ready to start the night.
She showed up promptly at eight as we'd arranged. I could see the driver opening her car door. She didn't exactly dress up, which was normally fine for me. But this was different. I wanted to do it right, and luckily, I'd planned ahead.
The attendants I'd hired walked her into the guest room where a glam squad was waiting for her. Licensed hair and makeup beauticians were brought in, even though she normally didn't wear makeup. I told them to keep it nice and light, not too much, and to insist if she refused, which I'm sure she did. Danielle wasn't into all that, last I checked, but she was game if she could tell I put some effort into the plans.
I finished prepping the food, going over instructions with the waiter who was going to be bringing it out to us, what cues to look for when I was ready.
The violinist had almost fallen asleep from waiting so long, but I couldn't risk him getting there late so I threw in a few extra dollars if he could make it early. We decided on some classic R&B for him to cover, along with Drunk In Love from Beyoncé, and of course, I Ain't Mad At Ya by Tupac. Don't judge me, I love that song.
About forty minutes went by, and according to the schedule she should've been coming out of hair and makeup and into her dressing room where she would change clothes.
Before I went shopping for her outfit, I browsed online, looking for something that would be her style. That was until I realized that I had absolutely no fashion sense when it came to women's clothing. I had man-taste. That means it went into two of four categories; hot or not, classy or trashy.
And when it came to Danielle, I was biased anyway so I just got a wardrobe stylist which ended up being a life saver.
The stylist presented me with ten options to choose from. Again, overestimating my fashion savvy, so I played it safe and got all of them. Danielle could choose which one she wanted when she got there. Doubt she'd have too much of a problem with it.
Finally, an hour had passed and it was time.
I thought back to days when we were dead broke, splitting packs of Ramen noodles, waiting for my checks to clear from the diner and hers from Sonic. It used to make me sick that this girl was everything I'd ever wanted yet had to settle only for what I could afford, which wasn't much.
But she didn't complain. She rode it out. Smiled gracefully every time and didn't make me feel like less of a man because of it. Creativity helped, but I swore to myself that the moment I got my funds together, I'd treat her like a princess. And this was my chance to make good on that promise.
I went to sit down at the table that'd been prepared for us. Then I stood back up, because sitting down would be rude.
I waited nervously for her to come out of the condo. I had in my mind how she'd look, and I was excited for it. But when she actually stepped out, my mind was blown.
Stunning, graceful, and other words I couldn't find because even mentally I became speechless at the sight of her.
Her natural hair was braided into a cascading French roll, exposing her chandelier earrings and almond skin. She radiated from her eyes to her smile, bright enough to turn the moon green with envy.
The slit up the left side of her dress exposed her freshly shaven and cocoa-buttered legs, flexing her quad muscles with every stride.
I was so out of my league.
"Well, hello, handsome. So...what ya think?"
"I can't think right now. Don't make me try," I laughed.
Like I said, I was nervous. Even if I wanted to be smooth, it wouldn't have worked.
"Well, I think what you've put together is quite amazing, sir. You sure did go all out."
"I'm glad you like," I responded.
I walked closer to her and kissed her lips, softly. Didn't want to ruin her lipstick.
I pulled out her chair for her to sit, then went around to my seat, cuing the shrimp, wine, and violinist.
We ate, reminisced, and looked over the water a while. She threw a few pieces of ice at me when I told her about my dream. As if I'd planned it.
"I said it was a dream!" I laughed, still dodging the ice.
"So what? It must've been on your mind or something. And you had the nerve to still try and have sex with me? Even with me having HIV? You're such a horn dog."
She threw another piece.
"Look, it was deeper than that. I mean, we had talked about more, but I don't wanna go into all the detail. Just know, overall, it was a good dream. Okay, not good, but you know, it ended pretty good."
"Just pretty good? I'm just pretty good now? You was willing to risk your life for some ass that was mediocre. You're not as smart as you look, boy."
We both laughed, and eventually found our hands together again.
I was full from the entree but dessert was inside waiting on us. Honestly, I couldn't eat another bite and just wanted to lie down.
I grabbed her hand and led her down closer to the edge of the lake. When I sprawled out on the grass is when she stopped following my lead.
"Umm...Shawn, you do know that ground is dirty, right?"
"Yeah, we can always get clean. Come on, get down here with me." I sat up, pushed the back of her knee so her legs would buckle.
She fell down, purposely driving her elbow into my stomach, and said, "That's what you get."
That started a wrestling match.
We tumbled a few times, me wrapping her arms where she couldn't get loose and her still finding a way out and going to cut off my air supply. She was stronger than I thought.
I used my weight to get back on top and pin her wrists to the ground.
I kissed her.
She said, "You win."
"We both do," I responded.
I gave the cue to the waiter to do the last-minute preparations for the room and take the rest of the night off along with the rest of the staff.
We tongue locked for a few minutes, much longer than was necessary. But the taste of her passion was well worth the binge.
"Come on, let's go inside," I said, standing up.
She hesitated. That same disturbed look I'd been noticing came back but only briefly before she reached for my hand anyway.
Sensing her uneasiness, I bypassed it, scooping her from the ground into my arms.
Maybe she was just trying to adjust to me being around again. That disconnect from the time we spent apart couldn't be more palpable, but if it could be mended, then tonight was the night.
I carried her into the room where the fondue was still warm and the music was now playing softly in the background.
No R&B. That was too typical, but the jazz was a bit different. Smooth, grown-up, and still sexy, like us.
I eased off her shoes.
"Superman," she said.
Outside of my dreams I hadn't heard her call me that since we were in college.
"Yes, baby?"
"Why you doing all this? This is all just...too much," she moaned as she took in the room.
I may have gone a little overboard with the room, but life's too short to play it safe. The excitement of finally having someone to do this for was more than I wanted to handle. So I went all out with the Chalet suite, silk linens in the bed, Jacuzzi-style tub in the corner of the room with heated jets already full force.
Ten bags of fresh rose petals blanketed the floor and the comforter. The hanging lamps looked like suspended golden spheres. More bottles of red wine than either of us would ever drink, but it beautifully completed the decor.
I refused to half-step on such an occasion as this. My excitement wouldn't let me. Sex was a possibility, but her feeling complete ecstasy was a must. If this time was the last time I was going to see her, I was going to make it count. I couldn't make her love me again, but I would be one hard act to follow.
"It's not too much," I said. "You just got used to
too little. And I think it's time we fix that."
I took off my jacket, then unraveled my tie. I kept on the shirt but loosened a few buttons at the top so just my chest was exposed.
Once she was settled on the bed, I took the bowl of massage oils off the burners. I made sure they were heated just enough to open her pores so I could reach in and evict the stress that had made itself at home in her body. It had no place there and I was going to make that crystal clear.
I started with her neck and shoulders. I don't think she expected the heat from the way she flinched at first, but a soft "ooooh..mm-hmm..." let me know it was still welcomed.
She was tense. Very. Seemed like the moment had a lot to do with it. I remembered her touch like it was just yesterday, but this feeling was unfamiliar. Something was keeping her from loosening completely up with me.
I pushed gently with my thumbs, pulled with the rest of my fingers, and gripped tightly across every bit of exposed skin down to the soles of her feet to try and work it out.
Maybe it was the jazz music. I reached for the remote which I'd purposely placed within reach so I could press the skip button and get to Baby Face and company.
A few moments of silence went by and I asked, "Danielle...you still awake?"
She murmured, "Yes, and that was amazing. Thank you for that."
"We're not done yet. I think we should finish in the Jacuzzi."
"Hmph. You just wanna get me out of my clothes. Don't you?" she smirked.
"What I see in you exposes more than just your body or we wouldn't even be here," I responded. She broke into a wide smile. "But if you're going to play it like that, then fine. We don't have to get in the tub. Close your eyes."
She obliged. I honestly didn't plan for her to resist getting in the tub so I had to think quickly.
I looked around the room and saw three bathrobes hanging on the far side by the closet. A light bulb went off in my head.
I went and grabbed them, pulled the strings off, and came back to the bed.
"Sit up, and keep your eyes closed."
"Okay..."
