by Tiana Laveen
As if noticing the lack of patrons and staff, Zaire appeared confused as she looked about while spreading her white linen napkin across her lap.
“Are they even open?” she inquired.
He finally took his seat at the table with Zaire to his left, and Allison to his right.
“Nope. They aren’t ever open for lunch, only dinner. I think that starts at 5:00 P.M.”
“It’s only about 12:45,” She glanced briefly at her cellphone. “So how did you get in here then?”
“I’m used to getting into tight, closed spaces. It’s one of my specialties.” He grinned at her, but was met with bunched brows that dipped low and lips that were now pursed so hard, they wrinkled like the veins of a succulent orange wedge. Minutes later, they all ordered their meals and then, Allison kept him entertained with her tales of a wayward husband with odd sexual proclivities.
“And so, you know, as a man yourself, maybe you can explain it, Savage? It was ridiculous!”
“Well, uh, honestly, Allison, I don’t think I can help you much there. I really can’t explain to you why gummy bears would turn a guy on.”
Gummy bears?!
“He wanted me to put them all over his body and eat them off, and sometimes he’d just hold some in his hand, and look at them with lust in his eyes… like they were porno stars!” Little mini squishy sweet porno stars… I wonder if this crazy bastard named these motherfuckers? Here’s Gummy Glenda, Sticky Sharon, Watermelon Wanda… “What a fucking weirdo!” Her voice escalated, making Zaire’s eyes buck and breaking him free from his strange, wandering thoughts.
Zaire is polite. Too polite. Mannerly. But that’s all an act. She speaks her mind freely… What an uptight woman. I listened to one of her podcasts before going to her hotel room. What a fucking brute. She’s ruthless. Not usually my speed, but I’m still attracted to her. She’s a ball buster. She’s got an inner freak wanting to come out to play with me… I never read people wrong.
“Zaire, ya know, is a psychologist.” He nodded, but truly didn’t give a fuck. “She told me as long as the sexual fetishes don’t emotionally, physically, or mentally harm anyone, they are deemed acceptable and not exactly a psychological issue, but I beg to differ.”
Zaire turned away in warp speed, as if the stacked tables and chairs around her had suddenly become interesting as hell.
Yup. I knew it. She’s a freak. He chuckled to himself.
“I guess, uh, everyone, has their kinks.” He shrugged, barely able to keep a straight face. “Remember when edible underwear was all the craze? Maybe it’s like that?”
“He didn’t want the Gummy Bears eaten if they were lined up along the bed rail. He once screamed at me for several hours about eating one. I could only eat them off his body… like some sacrifice.”
He swallowed, needing a moment to compose himself. The laughter bubbling within him almost couldn’t be contained. His face flushed with heat as he counted to five in his head, finally regaining his composure.
“Well, it sounds like your husband has some sort of comfort with the Gummy Bears. Would you like something else to drink?”
Maybe a Gummy Bear martini…
“Ex-husband… the wheels are already in motion.” She sucked her teeth. “No, I’m fine. Okay, what about this, Savage? And I know we don’t know each other and you might think this is crazy or out of line, but he made me get rid of all of my male friends when we got married. Jealous bastard! So I can’t bounce this shit off anyone else. I’m sorry for talking about this sort of thing and you don’t even know me.” The woman looked suddenly regretful, and her eyes sheened. “I know it sounds crazy!”
“It’s okay.” He shrugged before reaching for his water and taking a taste. “Obviously, you need to get this all off your chest. Go right ahead.”
The woman wasted not one second before she lit up with a cheery smile and began again. This was met with a clearing of the throat from Zaire. Now, the lady with the fancy academic degrees and dark steel in her eyes was sitting with her chin high in the air, her legs crossed, and an irked expression on her pretty face as she peered at her friend… her judgment dripping all over the place like melting wax.
She’s a snobby little hypercritical, pretentious thing, isn’t she? Her friend is obviously much more open, yet upset, and this is how she acts? I find a lot of highly educated women are like this… full of themselves. It’s an interesting dynamic…
“So, there’s an age difference, right? I thought older men were more mature. Wrong!” Allison rolled her eyes and huffed. “He’s the biggest baby I know. Cryin’ and complaining all the time. You’d think he’d require an afternoon nap, a diaper change, and the television tuned to cartoons on Nick Jr. The only thing truly baby-like about him though is that shriveled up little dick of his!”
Savage dropped his gaze for a spell and stared at his shoes. He placed his forehead in his palm and he was certain his shoulders were shaking from trying to control himself once again. He was trying so hard not to blow this shit by laughing in this woman’s face. A smile forced itself across his face, threatening to betray him. He secretly sighed with relief when he managed to shake it loose right before looking back up and meeting eyes with Zaire.
They quickly turned away from one another, both listening intently to Allison tell them about the struggles and sacrifices she’d made for her marriage, how she’d lost herself in the process. Unfortunately, those declarations were also sprinkled with bizarre tales, stories of a deeply disturbed man who likely should’ve never been allowed to make it to the age of thirty if natural selection had done its due diligence.
“…And that’s when he decided to have a séance to see if Cookie Monster on Sesame Street was possessed by the Devil.”
At that point, he’d noticed several times how Zaire was practically cringing, sliding down low in her seat, softening like a pat of butter right there on the spot. The woman practically disappeared like a dollop of chocolate out in the sun, growing smaller and smaller by the second. Her shoulders slumped and her cheeks rounded, turning a deep ruddy hue. Oblivious, Allison continued her tirade, citing even more examples of a man who was clearly in need of mental evaluation.
“And after I found out about the baby he had on the side, that’s when he had the nerve to tell me he could have gotten someone better than me, but he was tryna help me out… like I was the bottom of the barrel for him, and this was an act of mercy, our marriage… like I was some charity case. This motherfucker must’ve thought I was some idiot! He lied about everything, Savage, but I really did love him. As Tina Turner said though, ‘What’s love got to do with it?!’” She sucked her teeth and shook her head as if disgusted.
Savage leaned forward and took a deep breath. After a few moments of quiet, he signaled the host over with a wave of his hand and a snap of his fingers.
“Hey man, can you, uh, change the music in here? It’s dry like three-day-old turkey. You ladies like Jill Scott?” He tossed a look at both of them, not missing how Allison’s eyes lit up. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Sliding some cash out of his pocket, he placed it into the host’s hand. “Play some Jill Scott… ‘The Way’, and whatever else you have.”
“Certainly, sir.” The host nodded and walked away, but not before Allison burst into raucous laughter.
“What in the hell do you know about Jill Scott?!”
“I like all kinds of music.” He flopped back in his chair, his eyes hooded. “Anything that gets me right here, I like.” He tapped his chest.
Allison’s nose wrinkled as she smiled, as cute as she was. “I dunno, you just don’t look like the type who’d be into that. I took you as more of a Rock ’n Roll type of guy.”
“You can’t judge a book by its cover.”
“It seems you’re right.”
“So, you think because we’re Black, we’d like Jill Scott?” Zaire asked tersely, breaking up the synergy and good vibes like a wrecking ball in gold sandals. “Because I really hate stere
otypes like that.”
“Zaire, damn! He’s just tryna—”
“Allison, stay out of this.” Zaire pointed in her friend’s face, the tension mounting. “You don’t want me in your business right now during this trip, which you’ve made abundantly clear, so please enter this zone at your own risk. Now, as I was saying.” She snapped her neck back in his direction. “I can see you think you’re real smooth… renting out a restaurant that’s closed—better known as flexing, bringing my grieving, emotionally spent friend along because I insisted, giving that man money so he can do your bidding, pretend to be a DJ to now play ‘Black people’ music.” She put her fingers in air quotes as Jill Scott’s voice began to flow through mounted speakers around the place. “But let me tell you something, Mr. Savage. I write about men like you.” Her eyes narrowed on him.
“Ohhhhh noooooo!” He laughed and shook his hands. “Whatever the fuck shall I do? First I was afraid, I was petrified!” Allison giggled and hid her face in her hands. “You write about men like me! LIKE ME?!!! Oh me, oh my! That’s the ultimate shot to the heart!” He burst out laughing. “Fuck a bullet. She writes about guys like me, everyone! Deadly Zaire, I do-de-fucking-clare!”
She ignored him and carried on, as if he were some tyrant unworthy of her acknowledgement. “I warn my listeners and readers about men like you, Savage, because you cost too much for our peace of mind. Yes, I speak about men like you at conferences… and I’ve saved thousands upon thousands of women potential heartache.”
“I just saved a bunch of fuckin’ money on my car insurance by switching to Geico.”
“You’re predators.”
“Like ‘Predators vs. Aliens’? That was a terrible sequel, by the way. The first one was the best.”
Allison was now laughing so hard, her face was flushed in shades of deep red.
“Guys who use their charisma and distractions such as humor, much like you’re doing now, as well as their money and prestige, manipulative powers and when applicable, physical attractiveness to lure women and then discard them like trash are a dime a dozen.”
He smirked and took a sip of his water. “I’d like to think I was worthy of at least a dollar, okay? But I’ll even settle for fifty cents. Go shaaawty, it’s ya birthday!” He began to bob his head and snap his fingers to the classic, ‘In the Club’ tune by 50 Cents. “You can find me in tha club! Bottle full of bub! I’m into having sex, I ain’t into making love!”
Allison shook her head, then dropped it. Her shoulders jockeyed up and down. Zaire shot the woman a death glare, but he doubted she noticed.
“I just want to make sure we’re clear, Mr. Savage. I can see that you think you’re pretty funny and amazing, but I won’t be another notch on your belt.”
“What does that saying mean, anyway? Who is putting notches on their belt every time they have sex with someone? Oh! Just had sex! Better put another notch on the belt! What kinda silly shit is that?”
“I won’t entertain your foolishness.”
“Admit it… you’re amused.” He picked up his glass and swayed it in her direction, as if to give a toast. “To Savage! I’m funny as hell! Cheers!”
“Now, if your mission is just to have a nice lunch, that’s perfectly fine, but whatever else you’re expecting, like a dessert that is not on the menu, you can forget it.”
“Sometimes the desserts aren’t written on the menu; they’re on a chalkboard or are only listed and described verbally by the waiter. Does that count?” She rolled her eyes and looked away. “What if I ask for a sharpie and wrote your name on the menu myself, then? Zaire, a chocolatey, sweet and sassy mallasy, scrumptious treat served just right! Be careful, she could be frozen in the middle! $7.99 … coupons accepted.”
Just then, their food arrived.
Medium rare steaks, blackened grilled shrimp, bacon-wrapped scallions, buttered asparagus, wedge salads and more—all expertly prepared and placed before them. A carafe of ice water arrived soon thereafter, along with bottles of red and white wine. The conversation was rather bland from that point forward, but it was organic. Nothing seemed forced, though Zaire kept sporting a rather stern expression, even while eating her medium-sized shrimp which, for some odd reason, she cut with a fork and knife. When Savage had gotten half way through his meal, he tossed his napkin on the table, leaned back, and clasped his hands. His eyes landed on Allison who, at times, still appeared lost in her head, drowning in her thoughts.
“Allison?”
“Yes?” the woman answered while chewing on some lettuce.
“You want some advice about your husband? Some real advice, from a man’s perspective?” He shot Zaire a glance and grimaced.
“Yes, I do.”
Zaire scooted about in her seat, clearly agitated at her friend’s response.
Too damn bad. Step aside and let the real expert go to work…
“It’s simple, really. Look, baby, you’ve got a guy who saw a sweet, pretty, young thing like you. He had a little money but exaggerated the amount. He figured that would be the way to lure you, not thinkin’ you’d actually wanna be bothered with him otherwise. So, he wined and dined you. It’s too late for the shoulda, woulda, coulda, sweetheart—but a background check woulda let you know he’d already been married four times, not twice, like he told you. When someone has that type of track record, it means one of three things.” He raised a finger.
“One. They’re an asshole women run from once the real them is exposed. Sometimes they show ya who they really are on purpose because they’ve gotten bored and want you to leave. Either way, no one can keep up a charade for too long. Our true self manages to come out sooner or later. Two.” He held up two fingers. “They just don’t take marriage seriously, and it’s a numbers game to them, like gambling. Or three, they’ve got some sorta shit goin’ on in their head, like true blue loony toons. They’re stone cold crazy. He told you that you were different from the others, didn’t he?”
“Yes!”
“He told ya he’d give ya the world, and all he needed was your love and support.”
“Yes! Yes, he did!”
“Then he started doing strange shit. It was passive aggressive, sometimes to get rid of ya, but then…” He shrugged. “He probably had a change of heart. Called your bluff and got pissy when you seemed fine with moving forward. He wanted you to stay only if you needed him. If you no longer needed him, he hated you, treated you bad, started saying things he knew would get you angry and out the door.”
“Oh, my God! How did you know?! It’s like you were there watching our lives!”
Zaire rolled her eyes and huffed. The green-eyed monster was in full effect.
“He’s not a psychic, ya know? He just put two and two together and I pretty much told you the same thing!”
“No, you didn’t, Zaire. You said that due to his age, he was stuck in his ways and that—”
“It doesn’t matter now.” Zaire waved her off. “You’re leaving him, thank God.”
Anything you can do, I can do better. I can do anything better than you. No, you can’t. Yes, I can… BRAVOOO!
“Nah, I’m not psychic, and like Zaire said, yeah, I put two and two together, but only a man truly understands another man’s mind.” He narrowed his eyes and fixed them on Zaire. “You can study us, read about us, write all the fucking books you want about us, do your little podcast shows about us, screw us, beg for our confessions and go to fancy schools that teach you about us. But you’ll never fully understand us, because you’re not us. We’re wired differently. End of story.”
If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under.
“Savage, you did an excellent job dissecting my friend’s marriage. So, let’s dissect you, too.”
“Do you want to use your knife or mine? Yours has bits of shrimp on it though.” He grimaced. “Who the hell cuts up shrimp with a fork and a knife?”
“I’m not going to do this with you, this silliness you’re apparently prone to. Now stay on
topic. I sense a resentment towards women in you.” Zaire sat a bit straighter, picking at and prodding her asparagus while everyone waited for her to complete her thought. “I’m not trying to pick a fight, I promise.” She smirked as she waved her fork to and fro before popping the green, lanky vegetable into her mouth.
“Here’s some advice. Don’t eat that. Your urine is going to smell funny later, but more importantly, what did I say to make you believe that I resent women?” He leaned slightly forward and poured a glass of wine for Zaire and Allison.
“It’s just your demeanor, the way you speak. Oh, and not everyone reacts that way to asparagus, but thank you for the tip. It’s almost as if you resent me for being educated and doing well.” She grinned proudly, then swallowed. “I don’t pick up a racist inclination in you, though I believe most people do have some racist ideologies. This is more gender related. Isn’t it, Mr. Savage?”
“You’re the expert, right?” He handed Zaire and Allison a glass of wine, then poured one for himself. “You tell me.”
“I bet your relationship with your mother was tumultuous. Your father was either weak minded or not in the picture at all. Perhaps he was a drug addict? You come across as very rah! Aggressive!” She laughed… but he knew she wasn’t amused.
This chick has serious anger issues. She definitely needs some dick. Should’ve taken me up on my offer last night…
He clicked his tongue against his inner cheek, then shrugged before tasting his beverage. It was smooth; a little fruity. Quite unusual for a white wine.
“Go on. I like it when people tell me about me.” He grinned, showing all of his teeth.
“Sure. I’d love to give you a full psychological workup, but we simply don’t have the time. You’re a textbook case, though I must admit, you do respond well under pressure. I haven’t seen you flare up; your tone has remained steady during this lunch date. You’re quite witty, engaging in silly repartee and humor to try and defuse an intimidating situation, one you’re being evaluated on so it can be shown what you truly are. In all honesty, I believe you may even have a personality disorder.”
