Know Me (Truthful Lies Trilogy - Book One) (23 page)

She smiles, and waits
, not making any further move,
as if she can blame
it all on me if something happens
...

I almost fall back
wards over myself as I hightail it outta
there.

“
My
GOD
!
Are all white women like this in this part of town?”

“
It’s the new Upper East Side, bro. Did you
see that view?”

“
The babe or the skyline?”

I press the elevator button. “The skyline.
And, hey, you know she’s marr—”

Trevor
thwacks
me with a backhand on my shoulder! “You
really
think I’d go for a married
woman? Besides, I ain’t the one throwin my pussy around to be
fetched.”

“
Pussy
and
titties
and
tongue.
Damn, the freakin woman is on heat or something.”

“
Times ten, homes.
Tatiana the Titty
Toter
. Seems we were
right about lawyers being all talk and little dick.”

The elevator arrives and we ride it down.

“
Deck, she was all
over
you! Did you see how she caressed your art? She
was all over those vines, bro.” In a hilariously seductive whisper,
he says, “
Mr.
Cocks
, please, it’s Tatiana.
”

“You didn’t see what she did at the end?”

“No.”

I tell him.

He’s laughing so loud when the doors open
on the first floor that the prissy woman holding a briefcase
outside it scowls.

We get out and
I look around, feeling totally out of place in
this lobby with all the folk in their suits and fur coats and fancy
shoes. “Come, lemme show you something.” I’ve done a few moves at
this condo block before, and I wanna show Trev the
facilities.

“
The way she said
Cox
, I thought she was damn near sucking you right
then and there and I was watching it.”

“
It did sound pretty slutty.”

Trev doesn’t answer, because we’ve gotten
down to the fitness center area, and I’m not sure what he finds
hotter—Mrs. Tatiana Watkins, or the top-of-the-line gear in her
building. “Brooklyn. This ain’t Brooklyn.”

“
Brooklyn’s the new Black, homes. Now,
check this out.” I walk him around the corner to look at the indoor
pool. All he can do is stare open-eyed. “They also got a game room,
children’s room, golf simulators”—Trev laughs at that one—“bike
storage, on-site parking.”

Slowly,
he says, “Wow.”

That was pretty much my reaction
the first time I did a move for
someone here a few months back (someone several decades older than
Mrs. Watkins, but nearly as flirtatious.)

The second time I did a move
here, I was still
amazed.

“
Then you got Pier Six out here—the water
park, picnic tables. This is all renovated, bro. It’s a regular old
Suburban Heaven right here.” We step outside and look at Brooklyn
Bridge Park with its Hibachi grills and swings. Manhattan looming
behind it like a forgotten daughter. “This is the new city, bro.
But get this, Trev. These guys”—I point to Mizz Watkins’s Condo
building behind us now—“were actually throwing in a free
BMW 528I
for anyone who purchased before
the end of last year. I mean, can you freaking believe
that?”

“
Bullshit.”

“
I swear to you. They’re not merely making
room for the yups and kicking the rest of us out, they’re downright
throwing free cars at them!”

“
Deck, you are
so
bullshitting me.”

“
Am not. Another realtor did the same shit
in two thousand and nine. Only there it was an Audi, not a Beamer.
They offered it to the first ten people to lay down two mil for the
condo. So, get that, it’s two mil for the condo. Thirty-two Gs for
the car. They actually make a profit with that shit.”

Trev whistles slowly, staring out at the
skyline a
s if it were a
lady in lingerie calling to him. “Two million, huh? Wow. Guess
you’re gonna come down and live with momma and me again in East New
York one of these days, after gentrification makes the rest of
Brooklyn completely unaffordable.”

“
Fuck that shit. Those days are over for
me!”
Then, also looking
at the skyline, I say, “It’s like a woman taking a babydoll off,
isn’t it?”

“
The view? It’s like a woman with big round
titties and a finger in her wet cunt taking a babydoll off, homes.”
Trev looks at me. “Well, Deck, two mil’s not
impossible.”

“
Pft
! Whatever. Maybe not for a pro ball player such
as yourself. Those scouts and agents still all over
you?”

“
Like flies. They can go fuck ’emselves for
all I care. I’m getting an education, Deck. Then I’m gonna work
myself up slowly and gruelingly up the telecom corporate ladder,
and maybe, one day, settle up there”—he points over at the
city—“where the prices are probably gonna be more affordable than
here!”

I motion to start walking to a picnic
table.

“
Don’t we have another two moves?” he
asks.

“
Sure, but I’ve never been one to miss a
strip show.” We sit, eyes still glued to the glorious skyline. “I
been working out how I could do it, Trev.”

“
Do what?”

“
Move. Into a place like this.”

“
Two million? It’s a bit of a waste, don’t
you think?”

“
Not if you’re making ten. But I’m serious.
I’m gonna do it. I’m not gonna make it on my own. But if I go
national, hire up a few guys... I’ve even been thinking about a
gimmick, you know. I was thinking...” I feel the smile forming.
Embarrassment.

“
Oh, no, this is gonna be a Declan idea, I
can feel it.”

He knows me too
well
. “Well, imagine we
promote to a niche market, you know? Like...” I point up to Mizz
Watkins’s terrace.

“
Like young white woman who like flirting
with even younger white and black boys?”

“
We’re
men,
Trev. Not boys. But...yes, that’s exactly what I
mean.”

He starts laughing slowly. It’s not even a
laugh, really. It’s like a gently forming rumble of incredulity.
Then he goes serious. “You’re not kidding, are you?”

I shake my head. “Think about it, bro. You
call a moving company. They’re either unfriendly and the dude who
shows up smokes a cigarette and doesn’t speak English. Or, they’re
totally friendly, but you pay an arm and a leg. But the dude who
shows up is still some loser smoking a cigarette, wearing overalls
with empty beer cans in the pockets.”

“
And you didn’t just charge Mizz Watkins up
there the same?
Three
times your
going rate?”

“
Well, I got my boy working with me these
two weeks. I ain’t gonna pay you peanuts.
But that’s exactly the point, homes. You think she
doesn’t know I just screwed her on the price? If she’d bargained it
down, I would’ve gone down gladly. But she didn’t. And why? Because
she
wanted
to pay
for it! You see, she’s got it all. The looks. The money. A rich
husband. I’ll bet you ten to one that, in a year or two, he’s
screwing his way up the secretarial ladder. Or down it. You know
they’re
newly
married?
She told me when she first called me for the job.”

Trev’s eyes bulge.
“And she’s
already
wanting someone else’s cock?”

“
Maybe she does. Maybe she doesn’t. I
wouldn’t know.” Then, almost to make sure, I say,
“
And neither
will you
!” When Trev
tries to thwack me again this time, I move away. “Point is, there’s
obviously something missing there. Maybe the dude’s already
screwing around. Maybe she married him knowing he screwed around.
Maybe she married him for his money. Hell, I wouldn’t know—I never
seen the dude.

“
But, regardless, she likes to feel
special. You know. She’s living on a timebomb. In a few years,
she’s gonna start counting wrinkles. Her sex life’s gonna die
down—if it ain’t dead yet. She’s gonna start wondering what she did
wrong. And, just statistically speaking, women tend to be more
faithful than men. So, even if her man
is
going around doing his and everyone else’s
secretary, she probably wouldn’t do that herself. But she
will
grab some dude’s tatted bicep.
Or graze her fingers across a sexy black man’s shoulder. Or, hell,
maybe even just grab a drink with one of them and, I dunno,
feel
special
.

“
That’s how women cheat. To them, that’s
like...sick as sin. I mean, sitting and
chatting
to ‘a
virile young man’ is the equivalent of her husband sticking
it to someone or having some busty redhead put her lips around his
shriveled shaft.

“
For a babe, it’s the make or break of her
state of mind—feeling wanted and sexy. You know, some guy comes
along, lifts some furniture. Flexes a little more in front of her
to make her feel hot or something. Makes a little small-talk. Has a
drink on a terrace. The dude takes whatever tip she gives
him—”

“
And whatever side benefit!”

“
Trev! Pay attention!”

“Pft!”

“
Anyway, so the dude gets the tip, I get my
fee. Depending on how much in demand that particular stud is, I
will charge more for it. I thought: Be damned open about it, you
know? Market to single women, married women. Have a website where
they can select a preferred mover-dude—black, white, tall, color of
eyes. Photos of muscled dudes. Heck, I even thought of having the
guys go out with no shirts—”

That last point sends Trev over the edge.
He’s damn near on the floor in stitches.

I’m laughing to
o, because it
is
funny. And it’s also genius. I know it is. All I need is
the cash for it.

“
Deck”—he fights for breath—“Deck,
homes”—still laughing, eyes watering now—“Oh, my god!
Deck...”

“
What!?”

After a minute of catching his breath, he
finally gets it out: “Deck, you’re starting a damn escort
agency!”

“
Asshole!”

“A website where they can pick the dude?”

“
Yeah—”

He cracks up. “Homes, I’m just ragging
you. It’s definitely...a
niche
market. And a very definite
Declan-Only
idea. But, I gotta hand it to ya, I can see how it
could work. Hire up some good looking dudes to help all these
single ladies move out. Although...” He puts a finger up, thinking.
“...could we also get some babe movers? I mean, I’d love to watch
some sexy chicks move
my
furniture!”

It’s too much. My stomach hurts from the
laughter.

I feel my phone buzz. I pull it out
to read the text and the
laughter slowly recedes. I turn up to look at Tatiana’s terrace.
She’s there, in a robe now, smoking a cigarette. “Look
up.”

“
Deck, I don’t think she’s the type who
would just
look
at one of
your employees. I think she’d do a whole lot more.
And
tip him afterwards.”

“
Tip him? Or
pay
him for his ‘services’?”

“
Probably the latter.”

“
C’mon, let’s beat it.”

Walking to my truck, Trev asks, “So, what
did the message say?”

I throw him my phone.

He looks at it. His eyebrows
rise.

Tatiana Watkins:
Let me be blunt,
because hints haven’t worked: I’d fuck you and your friend’s brains
out if I wasn’t married. Keep my number, because I might not be for
much longer
.

Then he says, “I’m writing down her number.
Sorry, homes, but you’re taken.”

In the car, on the way to our next move at
Park Slope
:

“
So, what’s the deal with
Blaze?”

My mind drifts to her, to her softness.
Her green eyes and how she
held me after she broke under my hand. “She...uhm...I don’t
know.”

“
You don’t know? What’s there not to
know?”

“
Uhm, well, it’s too soon, you
know.”

He whistles. “Mother
fuck
, bro. You ain’t foolin no one.”

I look at him while taking a turn.
“Huh?”

“
Don’t
huh
me. You’re all like
uhm-er-what-huh
hedging. Spit it out. What’s the deal with
her?”

I scratch my head. “Like I said, uhm, it’s
too soon.”