by Miasha
I went to the South Street Diner to pass time. I ordered the hungry woman breakfast and pigged out. It was packed. I was alone. I was thinking about Michael and how I would much rather have been with him that night, cuddling and making love, watching a few flicks, and maybe playing a game of Scrabble. Yeah, I guess I was falling in love. But I was missing the other stuff that I had been faithful to for four years-the different ballers, the one-night stands, the money, the flash, the fun, the rush. I wanted it bad. And this was the perfect opportunity to get it back, while Michael was away working on a contract.
It was two-eleven when I knocked on suite 2016. There was no answer. At first I was thinking the dude had played me and fed me some bullshit. But I waited around for a little while, hoping he didn’t. It was two thirty-eight when I finally decided to leave. I walked toward the elevator.
“Where you goin’?”
I turned around and saw the guy placing the key in the door. I was relieved, but I had to let him know that I was pissed. I looked at my watch.
“Two o’clock was a half hour ago,” I said.
He smiled and said, “Right, so we definitely don’t have any more time to waste, do we?”
I grinned and followed him into his suite. It was big and nicely designed, but I’d seen better. Besides, he had it looking like a pigsty.
“I never did get your name,” he said as he started throwing things from the bed onto the floor.
“Ce…lina,” I said, deciding at the last minute not to give my name.
“Selena?” he asked. “Like the singer?”
“Yes, like the singer,” I said, standing in the same position as if I was on my pivot.
“Come in, have a seat. You have to excuse this mess, I was rushing for the show.”
“What’s your name?” I asked as I walked over to the bed.
“Mann,” he answered.
I sat down and he sat next to me. He was an old head, probably in his mid- to late thirties. He was short and somewhat stocky, with a cute light brown face: squinted eyes, a pointed nose, and thin lips. He had a nicely groomed mustache and goatee and a low cut that revealed a nice grade of waves. He admired me, I could tell.
“You are very attractive, you know that?” he said. “And you look good as hell in that dress. Is that a dress?” he asked, placing his hand on my thigh.
I was wearing a Missoni minidress. It was colorful, with blotches of aqua and hot pink, and it came to the middle of my thighs. It had long, loose sleeves that gathered at the wrists, giving it a balloon effect. My legs were bare and I wore a pair of Marc Jacobs leather hot pink pointy-toe pumps with a kitten heel. I wore my hair in a weave that was parted in the middle with loose curls at the tips that fell a little past my shoulders. My makeup was soft but vibrant, with one coat of hot pink on my eyelids and lips and a small amount of pink blush. I had on diamond hoops and a diamond Rolex, and I carried a small hot pink leather clutch. I wore no coat despite the fact it was the end of October.
“You look like something out of magazine,” Mann said, rubbing my thigh.
I rolled my eyes and said, “Enough about me. I want to know about you. What are you into?”
“Well, I told you earlier I’m not no star, you know. I’m just a regular cat doing regular things.” He was beating around the bush.
“A presidential suite in the Four Seasons is not regular in any sense of the word,” I said. “Come on, tell me what you do. You run the show, don’t you? You’re that man behind the scenes that nobody knows but who got the big bank, ain’t you?” I asked him in between nibbling on his ear.
He smiled. “I don’t know about the big bank, but I am behind the scenes. I’m a promoter-slash-manager. So, yes, I am the one who runs the show.”
“See, now, was that hard?” I asked, fondling him.
“And what about you? What do you do, because usually the gold diggers go after the performers, the ones who show their hands. I never in all my years in this business had one come after me. Shit, they even go after the bodyguards and the drivers. But they never come after me. So what are you into?”
I smiled at him. “Why dig for gold when diamonds play the surface? I’m a professional.”
“I see,” Mann said, as he lay on his back and closed his eyes.
November
“Good morning, yall,” I said as I walked into the salon.
I got the usual “Hey, girl, what’s up? You look tired.” I sat down at the receptionist’s desk and pulled out my bacon, egg, and cheese on a hoagie roll. I took two bites out of it and was interrupted by a phone call on my cell.
“Yes,” I answered, frustrated.
“Put that sandwich down and have brunch with me.” The voice on the other end sounded so clear, as if it were right next to me.
“Ba-by!” I squealed as I jumped out of my seat.
Michael was walking toward me from the back of the salon.
“Yall knew my baby was back and yall didn’t say nothing,” I teased.
It had been a whole month since I’d seen Michael, and I missed the hell out of him.
“Oooh maaa!” He gave me a big kiss on my forehead and squeezed me in his muscular arms.
“When did you get back?” I asked, sounding like a little girl.
“Late last night. I didn’t want to call because I figured you were asleep.”
“So, where are we doing brunch?” I asked excitedly.
“Somewhere nice,” Michael said as he tossed my keys to Kelly, the first stylist.
“Here, you lock up tonight. We won’t be back in time to close,” he told Kelly.
I grabbed my black and white graffiti Louis Vuitton bag off the counter and followed Michael out the door. We got in his white-on-white S500 and sped off. We hit 676 and I put my seat back and fell asleep. When I woke up we were on 495 south headed to Maryland.
“The harbor?” I asked in amazement.
“Yeah, there’s a nice breakfast spot down here I’ve been wanting to take you.”
Michael maneuvered the Benz S-class into a parking spot. I checked my appearance in the mirror and we hopped out. It was nice outside for a November day. The sun was shining bright and the air was thin but crisp, creating a light, comfortable breeze. I had on a pair of low-rider straight-leg jeans that were smack tight. The black cashmere leg warmers on top of them fell right over the top of my black leather pointy-toe stiletto boots. I had on a black cashmere fitted hooded sweater that revealed a little of my stomach underneath a white fitted waist-length leather jacket by Kenneth Cole. I looked cute and casual, very much dressed for the occasion, fortunately.
“Two?” the hostess asked.
“Yes, nonsmoking, please,” Michael said.
“Right this way.”
We followed the hostess through a half-empty diner. She led us to a booth, handed us two menus, and told us our waitress would be with us shortly.
“This is a nice place,” I said as I examined the decor.
“Yeah, I used to come out here every Saturday when I lived out Silver Spring,” Michael said.
“You lived everywhere.”
“Well, when I get a contract that takes one or more years, I have no choice, right?”
Michael and I ate a delicious breakfast and enjoyed each other’s company. We walked along the harbor hand in hand and he told me all about the building he just finished in Pittsburgh. He made $75,000 off that job alone. His bank account had to be O’ed up. Anytime he was able to open me a salon in Northern Liberties, pay rent on Delaware Avenue, and afford month-long hotel stays every now and then, he was paid.
Michael and I spent the whole day in Baltimore. We did some shopping while we were at the harbor. I spent like $2,000 (of Michael’s money) in Victoria’s Secret buying up just about everything from their new collection. Then we drove to a movie theater on Eastern Boulevard to see Minority Report. After the movie, Michael took me to this restaurant called Cactus Willies. That had to be the best buffet spot I’ve ever been to
. Michael dropped me off at my car at a quarter to ten. The salon was closed up. The cold dark streets were empty. I would have spent the night with him, but he was exhausted and just needed to be alone in his own house in his own bed. I respected that.
When I walked in the door, I noticed I had messages. I plopped down on my couch and pressed the button to listen.
“Hey, Selena, what’s up? It’s Mann. Give me a call, all right? Peace.”
My man is back now, I have no need for you, I thought.
The next message was from Tina. “Celess, girl, you have to call me! You won’t believe who I saw down here!”
I picked up the phone to call her. I hadn’t spoken to her in a while, anyway, and I needed to update her, especially about Tariq giving me that AIDS scare.
“Hi, Derrek, is Tina there?”
“Hey, Celess, honey, how’ve you been, darling?”
“Oh, just fine, thanks for asking. How about yourself? I heard the honeymoon was nice,” I said.
“It was magnificent, thanks. But hold on, here she is.”
“Hello,” Tina said.
“What’s up, girl?”
“What’s up?”
“I got your message.”
“Oh, Celess!” Tina said. “I saw James yesterday!”
“For real? Where?”
“Me and Derrek had floor seats to the Lakers versus the Rockets. Why was this nigga standing right near us while he was waiting to substitute some dude? He looked me right in the eye and gave a ice grill out this world. I just smiled. Derrek was like, what was that about? I was like, I used to tease the hell out of his nerd-ass in school.”
“For real,” I said. “So, he’s still pissed off, hahn?”
“Girl, pissed ain’t the word. If looks could kill, yall would be planning my funeral right now.”
“Well, I’m over that. I took your advice. I slowed down a lot. I just fuck with Michael right now and I strap up with him, especially after Tariq called me with the bullshit he called me with.”
“What bullshit did Tariq call you with?”
“This nigga got HIV, Tina.”
“What? Well, what about you, are you straight?”
“I’m cool,” I said.
“You went and got tested?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, when did he tell you this? I mean, why are you just now tellin’ me? I would’ve flew up there and went to the doctors with you,” Tina insisted.
“I know, but it’s cool. You were in Italy with Derrek. Plus I wasn’t about to have you worrying about me on ya honeymoon, you know?”
Tina exhaled. “That’s crazy,” she said. “That’s why I’m glad I’m out. I’m glad I’m done. That game will swallow you up.”
“No bullshit,” I agreed.
Tina quickly changed the subject. “So, the last time we spoke, you were debating whether or not you were going to go to Power House by yourself. Did you go?”
“Yeah. And I met this guy named Mann, a promoter.”
“You fucked him?” Tina butted in.
“Tina,” I whined, “I was lonely and I needed that G.”
“A measly G? The last I checked, you had a nigga buying you hair salons. What do you mean, you needed that G?”
“I still got my other needs. Tina, come on, don’t act like you don’t know. Shit, I need more than my bills paid. I need my image maintained, and Premarin and electrolysis never been cheap. What am I supposed to do, stop taking my hormones and grow a beard? I don’t think so.”
“Celess, but you gotta stop getting those needs met like that. You’re already pressing your luck with Michael.”
“How?”
“He doesn’t know you are a man, Celess, that’s how!”
“Just like Khalil, Drake, Jahuan, et cetera, et cetera, didn’t know you were a man!”
“Right! And I could have got my ass killed!”
“So you’re telling me that if you never found Derrek and never got married, you would have still got out the game?”
“I don’t know, Celess. It was Derrek who made me even think about the shit I was doing. So, honestly, probably not. If I never met Derrek I would not have even thought about getting out the game, but I did. And everything happens for a reason.”
“Well, my reason didn’t come to me yet. What am I supposed to do?”
“Celess, tell Michael. He’s a nice guy and he loves you. He might not mind. I have ideas about him, anyway. He might be gay or he might be bi. Just tell him,” Tina pleaded. “Before it’s too late.”
What Tina said about Michael weighed heavily on my mind for days. Every time I saw him I wanted to tell him. I didn’t know if it was all in my mind or not, but it did seem like Michael could have been gay. The way he dressed was clue number one. But he wasn’t feminine. It was little things like his neatness and his emphasis on personal hygiene. I didn’t know. Maybe I just wanted him to be gay so that I could tell him about me and we could go on and have what Tina and Derrek had. That would have been the only way I would have satisfied Tina and left the game for good, even if Michael can’t give me all the things I was used to. I could learn to be content with the life he was capable of giving me.
“Damn, what did I do to deserve this?” Michael asked as he walked into my dining room.
“What haven’t you done?” I said as I pulled the chair out for him to sit down.
Michael was pleased with the surprise candlelit dinner I had prepared for him. He was smiling and didn’t look ready to stop.
I took his coat for him and laid it on the couch. He had on a pair of carpenter jeans and a white long john shirt. After all, he did just think he was coming over to dig my car out of the snow.
“For somebody who spent a whole day cooking, you sure look good,” he said, referring to my red leather Bebe pants and my red bustier-like blouse. “Are you sure you slaved over a hot stove, or is this take-out?” he teased.
“Just because you never seen a cook look as good as me does not mean it ain’t possible,” I shot back.
I served Michael his spaghetti and meatballs and his side salad. I poured him a glass of hot apple cider. I buttered his dinner rolls, and then I sat across from him. The table was set perfect and I had Sade playing softly from the stereo in the living room. The mood was just right.
“Um, this is pretty good,” Michael said, complimenting me on my meal.
“I’m glad you like it. I put my foot in this.”
“Well, it tastes like you put your butt in it too, ’cause it’s bootylicious,” Michael joked.
I just giggled and then started contemplating how I was going to tell him. I had practiced over and over. First, I planned to get on the topic of gay men and see what his reactions would be. Then, if my instincts told me to, I would come out and tell him.
“Next time I’ll be expecting you to cook for me,” I said.
“That is not a problem, ’cause I can throw down,” Michael said, stuffing a forkful of spaghetti in his mouth.
“Is that right?”
“That’s right,” Michael said with confidence.
“Well, you know what they say about men who can cook?”
“What’s that?”
“They’re usually fat or gay…and you’re not fat,” I said, lifting my eyes from my plate and onto him.
He looked up at me and said, “I’m very happy.”
I just smiled. I couldn’t do it. He didn’t give me a readable response. It was then that I knew it would never work between us. There was no way I would be able to keep my secret from him much longer, and without him knowing the truth, I would have to distance myself from him. On that note, I decided to just keep doing what I’d been doing. It was what I knew best, anyway. It was what got me all I had now. I had to withdraw some of my feelings for Michael. I had to go back to my old ways. I had to keep playing.
December
“Hap-py birth-day toooo yooou, Hap-py birth-day tooo yooou, Hap-py birth-day dear Celeesss, Hap-py bi
rth-day tooooooo yooooou,” Tina sang over the phone.
“Thank you,” I said modestly. “And thank you for the picture. It’s bangin’.”
“You’re welcome. I knew you would like it. That was back when it was just you and me runnin’ the streets. Did you get that envelope?”
“What envelope, the card?”
“No, the envelope that was in back of the picture. Go look,” Tina demanded.
I got up off my bed and walked over to the framed poster-sized painting of Tina and me on my twenty-first birthday a year ago. We were smiling ear to ear, posed up in the Range Rover, holding a bottle of Cristal and a wad of money. It brought back many memories. I turned the picture around and saw a white envelope wrapped in the plastic.
“I see it,” I told Tina as I made a hole in the plastic.
“Open it! Hurry up!” Tina said excitedly.
I got the envelope out of the plastic and opened it. Inside was a bunch of papers stapled together and folded. I opened them, and a loose paper fell out into my lap.
I read the letter aloud. “ ‘Celess, this is the first birthday since we met that you spent without me, and it has made me realize just how much I miss you.’”
I looked at the bundle of papers. Meanwhile, Tina was silent on the other end of the phone.
“A deed?” I asked, confused as hell.
“It’s a three-bedroom, two-bath condo, on the hill, fireplace, high ceilings, the works, and it’s for you. Happy birthday!”
“Tina, I don’t get it,” I said, still confused.
“Celess, it’s not rocket science! I want you to move down here,” Tina snapped.
“What? Move to L.A.? But what am I gonna do down there?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“Don’t worry about all that. You’re my girl. You know I got you,” Tina assured me.
“I know you’re well off, but that’s for now. It’s no guarantee you’ll be married to Derrek forever. I mean, he is twice your age. And I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to depend on his money. Shit, I’m not the nigga’s wife,” I told her.
