God's Gift to Women (8 page)

“Okay, Olivia. Take care, and I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

“Good-bye, and don’t bother callin’ back,” Olivia said after Denise hung up. “I already got what I needed from you.”

Olivia poured herself another glass of wine and pulled out
her Rolodex. She found the number for Continental Airlines and dialed while she lay naked on her bed.

“Yes, I’d like to book a flight for tomorrow morning, Chicago to Houston.”

“Is this a one-way or round trip?” the agent asked.

“Hmm … let me think.” She paused. “You can book my return flight for Friday. Three days is all the time I’ll need to handle my business.”

After her flight was confirmed, she pressed the menu button on her phone to retrieve the list of prior incoming calls. She scrolled down until she reached the numbers from Saturday. The display had Julian’s number on it.

“Thanks for allowing me to use your cell phone, Mr. Payne,” she said deviously. “You were right, I
am
a woman who’s accustomed to getting what she wants.”

ON TUESDAY AFTERNOON I was browsing through the shelves of an African American bookstore on the south side of Houston. My first show was less than ten hours away and I still hadn’t come up with a topic. After thirty minutes of looking over several boring titles, I picked up a self-help book by Wayne Dyer called
Wisdom of the Ages.

When I put the book down at the register, I noticed the clerk was smiling. He was a middle-aged black man dressed in a colorful dashiki.

“That’s a good choice,” he said while ringing me up.

“It’s not exactly what I wanted, but I’m pressed for time.”

“May I make a suggestion?”

“Sure.”

He reached for a book off the shelf behind him. Right away I recognized the cover.

“
The Maintenance Man,
huh? I think I saw the author on a talk show,” I told him. “But I’m not really into fiction.”

“Neither was I until I read
this
book. I finished it in one day. It’s about a gigolo in L.A. who is from Chicago and—”

“Chicago? In that case, I’ll take two! Can’t go wrong with a homeboy.”

“Yes, sir.” He reached for another copy. “Will there be anything else?”

“I’m on a roll; what else you got?”

“Well, we have a line of greeting cards for holidays and that special someone. Do you have a woman in your life?”

The image of Terri stepping out of her BMW flashed across my mind. I smiled as I thought about her conservative glasses and tight skirt.

“Ah, so there
is
someone,” the clerk said. “Let me show you what I’ve got.”

I followed him over to the greeting card display. There were hundreds of beautiful cards for every occasion from birthdays to Kwanza. I looked through the sweetheart section and found the perfect card for Terri.

“I’ll take this one!”

While he rang me up, I wrote a short poem on the inside of the card along with an inscription. He caught a glance while he was scanning it into the register.

“You think that’ll be enough to impress her?”

“I think so.” I said. “But to be on the safe side, where can I buy some flowers?”

“I’m your man.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a florist, too?”

“I guess you didn’t read the sign outside. It reads ‘Afro Books ’n’ Things.’ That means whatever you need, we got it!”

“So, I guess if I need the flowers delivered, you’ve got that covered, too?” I was joking, but he was dead serious. He reached beneath his dashiki and pulled out a business card.

“Lonnie’s Carrier Service? Damn, brotha, you don’t let a dollar out the door, do you?”

“Look, I’ve got a wife and five kids to feed,” he said, “and love don’t pay the rent.”

“Amen to that!” I gave him a high five. “Now, how much is all of this gonna cost me?”

“Give me seventy-five bucks, a name, and an address, and I’ll take care of everything.”

“You got yourself a deal!”

I gave him the money and information on where to find Terri. Before I sealed the envelope I wrote a short inscription on the card, then added a little something special.

“I really appreciate your help, my man.”

“No problem, Mr. Payne. And I’ll be sure to tell all my customers to listen to your show tonight.”

“How did you know who I was?”

“Your face is on every billboard in the Third Ward, especially down Martin Luther King Boulevard.”

After we exchanged information I rushed to my car, hoping to get home in time to grab a power nap. As I was driving off I noticed the message light on my cell phone was blinking. I checked the voice mail but it was blank and the caller’s number had been blocked. It was the fifth time in two days this had happened. That was unusual because only five people had my cell number. “I’m gonna change this damn number first thing tomorrow,” I said to myself. At that moment, my phone rang. I looked at the display, but the caller ID was blocked.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Julian! I’m glad I finally caught up with you.”

“Who is this?”

“You don’t recognize my voice?”

“Look, I don’t have time for games.”

“Okay, you don’t have to be so nasty. It’s me, Olivia Brown. Remember me?”

“Olivia? How did you get my number?”

“When I used your phone to call my girlfriend Saturday night, your number was on her caller ID.”

“Olivia, I thought we agreed that what happened in Chicago would end in Chicago.”

“I understood that, Julian. I’m not trying to harass you. Just so happens I’m in Houston for a couple of days on business. I thought I’d give you a call to say hello.”

“Come on, Olivia, you expect me to believe that it’s a coincidence that you’re in Houston on business just two days after we met?”

“I told you that I was in the music business. I work with producers from all over the country. I decided to meet with one of my clients in Houston rather than fly out to L.A. Besides, I have a girlfriend from college who lives here.” She sounded sincere. “Look, Julian, I just called to say hello and see how you were doing. And yes, I was hoping we could at least have a drink. That’s all. But if this is the way you’re going to act, I will lose your number and never bother you again!”

I had my doubts, but there was no reason for me to suspect she was crazy enough to follow me to Houston. Besides, I did recall her mentioning that she was working on recording a few of her songs. In the entertainment business, flying in and out of airports is as common as flagging down a taxi.

“Look, Olivia, I apologize for snapping at you. I’m under a lot of pressure right now. My first show is tonight and I’m still working on my topic.”

“Why don’t you let me help? I’m great with coming up with ideas. I
am
an artist, you know.”

“I thought you were here on business.”

“I am, but my next meeting isn’t until later this evening. You know people in the music industry don’t do anything until after six.”

“I don’t know, Olivia.”

“What are you so afraid of? All we’re going to do is toss around a few ideas over drinks. Who knows, I might actually help you come up with something hot for your show tonight. And you know how important it is to get off to a good start in a new market.”

I had to admit to myself that she was right. Getting off to a great start was critical, especially when you’re the new kid on the block. But for some reason I couldn’t focus. I don’t know if I was choking or just excited. Regardless of what it was, I could
use some help. My job was on the line and this was no time to be proud.

“Come on, Julian, it’ll be fun!”

“Okay, but remember—this is strictly business.”

“You have my word. I promise not to take advantage of you.” She laughed. “You just make sure to behave yourself, Mr. Payne. I’ve already seen how naughty you can be.”

“What are you trying to say?” I asked. “Don’t start none, won’t be none.”

“You got it, James Brown!”

“Well, I promise to be a good boy.” I laughed. “Now, let me run home and get my daughter situated with her new baby-sitter and I’ll be right over. As a matter of fact, I can go straight to the studio from your place. By the way, where are you staying?”

“I’m in suite 2205 at the Wyndham Hotel. It’s on West-heimer Road next to the Galleria mall.”

“What a coincidence. That’s right down the street from where I work.”

“That
is
a coincidence, isn’t it?”

TERRI WAS IN her office wrapping up a counseling session with an elderly couple. They were her last clients before lunch. She glanced at her watch while she discussed their problem.

“So, Mrs. Adams, why do you need your husband to get down on all fours and bark like a dog in order to become sexually aroused?” Terri asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because my father never let me have a dog when I was growing up.”

“Mr. Adams, why not bark if it turns your wife on?”

“Because she’ll only come up with something even more ridiculous. She’s never satisfied! Our love life was fine until she started watchin’ that program on HBO about those four nasty women.”

“What program is that, Mrs. Adams?”

“He’s talkin’ about
Sex in the City.
I love that show, don’t you, Dr. Ross?”

“I’ve seen it a couple of times. But let’s stay focused on the issue. What’s so interesting about that program to you?”

“It gives me new sexual ideas.” She blushed. “Did you see
the episode when Samantha had a lesbian affair and her lover squirted in her face while she was giving her oral sex?”

“You see what I’m talkin’ about? Every week I’ve got to deal with this nonsense!” Mr. Adams yelled. “I’m damn near sixty-five years old. I don’t want to feel like I’m competing in the Olympics every time we have sex.”

Terri stood up and walked behind them. Once she was out of their sight she turned her back and covered her mouth. She laughed so hard tears were forming in her eyes.

“So, Doc, what should I do?” Mr. Adams asked.

She wanted to say, “Let her squirt in your face, you might like it.” But instead she composed herself and gave him the clinical response.

“Mr. Adams, does barking like a dog make you feel degraded?”

“No, just stupid. It’s hard enough to have sex in the missionary position with a bad back, now I’ve got to roll around on the floor, too? To hell with that!”

“Wait a second, Mr. Adams, don’t you have sexual fantasies?” Terri asked. “There’s got to be something naughty you’ve always wanted to do with your wife.”

He sat there with his hand on his chin and looked off into space as if he were painting a picture. Then he leaned back and smiled.

“What is it, sweetheart, come on, tell me!” Mrs. Adams said.

“I’m too embarrassed to say.”

“Don’t be,” Terri said. “I’m a professional. There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t heard a thousand times.”

“Okay, here it goes.” He turned toward his wife and looked at her with a serious expression. “I’ve always wanted you to come to bed dressed up in leather and high-heel boots.”

“No problem, sweetheart. I can do that!”

“Wait—there’s more. I also want a teenaged girl dressed as a French maid in the bed with us.”

Mrs. Adams stood up and slapped him in the face. “You can go to hell, you old pervert!” Then she stormed out of the office.

A few seconds later Mr. Adams calmly put on his dark shades and old gray brim and walked toward the door.

“Well, Doc, I guess you can cancel that appointment for next week. I don’t think she’ll be asking me to bark like a dog anytime soon.” He tipped his hat and backed out of the door wearing a sly grin.

Terri plopped down in her chair, leaned back, and stretched her feet out on her desk. “Talk about reverse psychology!”

Just then the receptionist, Helen, called Terri on the intercom.

“Dr. Ross, Janet is here.”

“Send her in.”

“Also, there’s a carrier here with a package.”

“Tell him to leave it with you.”

“I think you might want to sign for this
personally.
It’s not FedEx.”

“Okay, send them both in.”

The carrier entered the office carrying a dozen yellow roses and a small white box. Janet made room on Terri’s desk. After signing the receipt, Terri sat down and stared at the box.

“You want me to call the bomb squad?” Janet joked.

“Very funny. I’m just not in a hurry.”

“Well, my lunch break is over in thirty minutes and I’m curious.”

“You mean nosy.”

“Whatever,” Janet said. “You know who it’s from. I don’t know why you’re trippin’.”

“What do you know about him?” Terri asked.

“I’m a single woman with no kids, no man, and no life,” Janet said. “I know everything about everybody.”

“Is he married?”

“No.”

“Does he have kids?”

“A ten-year-old daughter.”

“Is he dating?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Is he gay?”

“I hope not.”

“Is he—”

“Stop it, Terri!” Janet cut her off. “I’ve already been through this interrogation with Julian. Why don’t you go out with him and get it over with.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not? You know you like him. You were blushing like a teenager when you came into the studio yesterday. I haven’t seen you smile like that in over a year.”

“He’s nothing special. They never are.”

“Who is this talking? Not Doctor Terri Ross, the strong, independent, BMW-drivin’ superwoman?”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“I can’t believe you’re still holding on to that shit you went through with Michael. That was more than a year ago. Let it go!”

Terri put her head down on her desk and turned back and forth in her chair.

“You know I hate it when you’re right?”

“Yep.”

“It’s just hard for me to trust again, you know? I wasted two years of my life on Michael. I cooked and cleaned for him, supported him in his career, and paid most of the bills. Then one day, out of the blue, he tells me that he’s still in love with his exwife.”

“Well, like my mama use to say, everybody plays the fool at least once in their life.”