Liar's Game (9 page)

I went back to pacing and said, “Sounds like you’re back on your feet. You still living on Park Ave, or did you lose that place too and have to move back in with your mother again?”

“I’m hanging in Harlem. Eighth Avenue and 151st Street.”

“Eighth and 151st isn’t the best area to live in.”

“That’s where you grew up.”

“That’s why I know.”

“It’s huge. Only four C notes a month.”

“Good for you. A thirty-nine-year-old man should have his own place.” I nodded. “You have the money you owe me?”

“Look, let’s not get into that right now.”

“I take that as a no. So we can hang up ri—”

“I wanted to prove to you that I was about something. It’s blowing up and I want you here with me. That was our plan.”

“How’s Tia?”

“See, that’s why I didn’t know if I should call.”

“Always follow your first mind.”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you when I was coming home on the subway. I’m sitting up now looking over the pictures we took in Puerto Rico. Well, the ones you didn’t burn. Want me to hold it up to the phone so you can see it? This one you have on the thong.”

“Good-bye, Claudio. Hang up the phone.”

“Is this how you treat the man who saved your life?”

“Next time, let me fall. I’ve died a thousand deaths since then.”

That shut him down for a few seconds.

I said, “I’m trying not to get angry, trying not to be rude by hanging up in your face, so find it in your heart to respect me. Say good-bye and get on with your life.”

“Well, until you tell me not to call—”

“I’m getting married, Claudio.”

Silence. The kind that comes after a bomb has dropped. I thought he had hung up, but he panted back to life, sounding dazed and confused. “Married?”

“Yep.”

“Getting or got?”

“Getting.”

“That was quick.”

“Nope, you were slow. You had your chance.”

“Damn.”

“What, did you expect me to cross my legs, become a nun, and chant hymns to the moon? It don’t work like that.”

“You said that you’d love me forever, no matter what.”

I rubbed my eyes. Inside my mouth every taste bud was swollen, infected by a soured love’s bitter juice.

He said, “Until you get married, you ain’t married, so I’m gonna try.”

“Claudio, don’t do this. You had your chance.”

“I love you. We’re soul ma—”

I hung up. I didn’t whack the phone in the receiver. I pushed down on the button and let Mr. Dial Tone do the rest.

I waited for it to ring again. It didn’t. A long second later I slumped back to life. After that conversation, I’d tensed up and held my breath so long I had to be dark blue. His Brooklyn voice lingered like a bad cold. He had stirred up old feelings, ancient memories that felt like they happened yesterday.

He didn’t lie. He had saved my life.

The phone rang again. It was Vince. He was done with his laundry, had rented a couple of movies from Block-buster.

I wiped the frustration from my eyes and put some happy in my voice. “Sounds like a plan. What you get?”

“A flick called
Cappuccino
.”

“Lots of sex?”

“Yeah. Lots of plot twists, drama, and sex.”

“Juicy, juicy. Bring it on.”

We hung up. In the background, my shower was still running, the humidity seeping from underneath the door, drifting into the hallway. So much steam that when I opened the door, the walls were crying.

I didn’t shower. My mood had been stolen from me. I turned the water off and went into the kitchen. I put on a pot of vegetables, started broiling salmon made with a shrimp stuffing. That’s what Vince likes, so that’s what I make. I’ve adapted to his world, changed my eating habits, started becoming part of him. He’s made changes too, become part of me.

Claudio was coming to L.A.

I had become Bess, wanting Vince to save me from being handled by my old lover’s hot hands.

 

Dinner and a movie went by in no time flat. It was a hot, steamy movie with enough twists to keep my mind occupied. Vince showered while I cleaned up the kitchen. Then I hopped in and scrubbed while he ironed his shirt for work tomorrow. A few of my things were lying around, slacks and a cotton blouse that had a wrinkle or two, and he pressed those for me. He always did that without my having to ask.

A good thirty minutes went by with me standing underneath that shower. The water ran cold and I took the hint. Thoughts. So many of them at the same time. I rubbed my skin down with baby oil, stepped out wet from braids to toenails. I thought that Vince was waiting for me in the bed, maybe already dozing off, but he came to me in red silk boxers.

I joked, “You know you’re wearing gang colors?”

No laughter from him. That insatiable look was in his eye.

Jazz was breathing through my shower radio, KTWV playing Cassandra Wilson and Luther Vandross’s duet, telling the world that they were only human, bound to make mistakes. Eucalyptus-scented candles were already lit; that was the dimly lit, erotic environment I loved to hide myself inside when I was bathing.

One long kiss later, I had melted into the bathroom floor, legs open wide, his tongue dancing down where the honey was always sweet, massaging deep inside my Queen jelly. Plain and simple, Vince was tearing it up. Call me 7-Eleven because I was ready to stay open all night.

I couldn’t wait; needed this so badly. Needed the escape.

Good loving was supposed to help a woman forget bad times.

Vince was almost on top of me. His hard penis touched my inner thigh, bumped my pubic hair, got too close to my vagina.

I tried not to sound scared when I scooted away a little, pushed my lips up into a smile, then whispered, “Get a condom.”

He opened his hand, showed me the Magnum he was palming.

I gave up a real smile then. I shifted so no renegade baby juice would slip inside and go on an Easter egg hunt. I kissed on his neck and chest, waited for him to get ready.

My phone rang. Broke the spell I was under. I made a motion like I was going to go get it. Vince shook his head, and I relaxed.

In the moment it took him to roll on the latex, my mind rolled back east. To Claudio. To the night I experienced my first moan-gasm. I thought I’d been having orgasms, but when my eyelashes fluttered like a hummingbird in flight, and I moaned so long and strong, I had landed in a new world. After that big O, I was dazed for an hour, amazed for even longer. It was easy for a young and naive woman to confuse that sensation with love.

When Vince was wrapped up like a mummy, I wondered if he tasted like candy. I’d never done that with him. I pulled him up on me, reached between his legs, loved the powerful way he felt in my hand, loved how my nerves opened up when I slid him inside. His expression tells me how much he craves me, and that turns me on.

I murmured, “Perfect. Sweetie, you feel so perfect.”

“Damn, slow down, Dana. Pace car, baby.”

“Okay, okay.”

I was in midair, floating to a wonderful place.

Every thought of Claudio went away.

Slow pushes, pulls, kisses. Things got heated up, my breathing faster and deeper, felt my blood flowing through my body, my skin so soft under his weight. Our groans filled the room from floor to ceiling, wall to wall. Vince was sucking on me like I was a scrumptious mango. I bit him, laughed; he bit me back, right between my breast and shoulder. So much fun. I was with him, saying things I’d never say in church.

His love should be able to cure the common cold.

I asked him, “Tell me.”

And he did, in that baritone voice, he told me over and over. His words made me melt into the warmth of an orgasm, held on to that cloud as long as I could.

Morning rolled in like a soft fog in Bakersfield.

Six a.m. My digital clock was humming like a storm warning. I slapped the snooze button as hard as I could.

Vince said my name, kissed my face. His breath, Colgate fresh.

I groaned. “How long you been up?”

“Your phone rang and woke me up a while ago.”

“This early? I didn’t hear it.”

“It rang quite a few times.”

I yawned and played it off. “You okay? You were tossing and turning and mumbling half the night.”

His face changed for a second. Lines grew in his forehead and he looked older. “What did I say?”

“Hell if I know. I was too busy talking in my sleep.”

We laughed, soft and easy.

Vincent had on khakis and a short-sleeve shirt, one that had one of those designer triangles on the front. A blue windbreaker was under his arm. I envied how he could always dress Cali casual for his job.

He said, “Gotta go beat traffic.”

“I’m hurrying, sweetie.”

I moved too fast, wasn’t awake. Bumped into the six-foot-high bookcase. Shelves were so full, some three deep, a couple of books fell off. I owned everyone from Shakespeare to the Harlem Renaissance up to the juicy-juicy novels by the
Waiting to Exhale
lady.

Hand in hand, I hurried him to the door.

He said, “Make sure both locks are clicked on.”

“Okay, sweetie.”

Another long good-bye kiss. Then he was jogging down the hallway with a slight bulge in his crotch.

I scratched my butt and stepped over the books.

Five messages. All from Claudio. The first call had rolled in about the time I was waiting for Vince to roll his condom on. The next, in the middle of a moan-gasm. I deleted every message as soon as I heard his voice. Deleted them and wished feelings could be purged so easily.

I’d pleased Vince last night. Had done it so many nights.

Once I had wanted to know why my sex, my love, my whatever wasn’t good enough for Claudio. Was it her breasts? Because I’d put on a little weight? Yep. One jerk can make a woman insecure about all men.

I’d given myself permission to leave those foolish thoughts behind.

That night had been beautiful. Snow covered Central Park. Cold as hell, but I was wrapped around Claudio. In his bed, my head to his chest, his breath on my skin, all snuggled and warm. Tipsy because we had been out partying at Nell’s, had a night filled with sweet wine and friends, then made love as a nightcap.

Screams came into my dreams.

I woke up, woozy and slobbering, with Tia hovering over me, in her blue flight attendant uniform, crying and wailing like Busta Rhymes.

To this day, I don’t understand why the skank went off on me. I tried to stay cool and tell her that we’d been sharing a man, that this was a love triangle and nobody knew about it but him.

She doubled up and came at me talking shit, shoved me so hard I fell and almost cracked my face on the heater.

When I got up, I tilted my head, looked at her like she’d lost her mind. It wasn’t about Claudio anymore. Nobody pushes me around. If she couldn’t respect me, then fear would be a good substitute.

Her insults screeched to a halt when I picked up a knife, chased her big titties, had her bouncing from wall to wall.

Claudio grabbed me, wrestled me until I was tired, my braids were every which-a-way, had me looking like snake-headed Medusa. He pinned me and tossed the knife to the side. While I tried to wiggle myself free, Tia’s bitch ass ran to the phone yelling bloody murder. The neighbors woke up screaming for one of us to go ahead and kill the other so they could get some sleep. NYPD came, brought a new level of humiliation. Took me for a little ride. Crackheads were on every corner, people selling bootleg videos and pirated CDs out of every bodega, but they locked me up.

Two days later I met with Claudio, listened to him explain what couldn’t be justified. He told me Tia didn’t mean a damn thing to him.

And of course he reminded me of the on-ness and off-ness of our relationship, of how my phone rang from time to time with the jingle of an old lover. Nope, over that five-year stretch Claudio wasn’t the only man I’d been with. He pleaded insane on the grounds of insecurity. I ended up in his bed that night.

We’d had twenty seasons of history. He’d been there for me when Momma died, and I couldn’t handle the love being over just like that.

Yep. Reason had jumped out the window, and when the damage was done, I had stooped to that girl’s level and met ignorance with anger. Resentment, when you don’t control it, only leads to misery. Claudio made a fool out of me, then I turned around and made a bigger fool of myself. That’s what I hated the most. Not the people, not what my daddy did, not what my momma allowed, not Claudio, not Tia, just the feelings they left behind.

I left New York. Called myself leaving all of that behind.

That was then, this is now.

Outside was cloudy, still overcast with a marine layer that made the morning cool, right at seventy degrees. I’d been blessed. I was seeing the perfect man in a perfect land.