Nasty (10 page)

She beckoned him closer to him. Imitating the studs that starred in his stash of porno DVDs, he impaled her creamy center with his wrought-iron weapon, pumping in and out of her with the fervor of a wild beast. When he climaxed, the Madison Square Garden crowd stood up and cheered.

Carlos was relieved when he finally dropped off Jonathan. He wanted this woman all to himself. As if reading his mind, Nicola slid her hands across his groin and massaged him for
what seemed like an eternity. He quickly responded to her touch.

“Mmm, I take back every doubt I had about your ability to handle things. You’re pretty well packed.”

Carlos smiled to himself. He was always upset that, at six feet, he was the shortest male in the family. But as fate would have it, he’d been amply blessed with an enormous, twelve-inch pleasure rod.

Some women even refused to have sex with him, strictly on mechanical reasons alone. He tried to assure them that he could handle his equipment in a fashion whereby all were pleased. Still, some declined. They doubted his technique and it was their loss because Carlos had plenty of technique.

He looked at Nicola and realized that he had picked up a phenomenal woman. She was nothing like the freaks he usually wound up with. He was going to rock Nicola James’ world.

Nicola’s thoughts were so very different. There was only one man on her mind, the bastard that had broken her heart into a million pieces: Harrison James. Every man she met would pay for his crime. No one was safe. Looking over at an unsuspecting Carlos, just driving his car and ranting about his latest accomplishments, she knew conquering him would be an effortless task.

“Now I know you two aren’t going to lie up in this basement all day and not help clean it up.”

Carrying a bucket in one hand and dust rags in the other, Ophelia burst into the basement clubroom, yelling at her boys as if they were still teenagers. In kneejerk fashion, both Tarik and Carlos snapped to attention, jumped off the leather sectional, and awaited orders.

“The after party is in two days and I want this place Pine Sol clean!”

Tarik hugged his mother. “That’s why I’m here. Just tell us what you want us to do for you.”

She looked up at her two angels. She was proud of her boys, though they had sure put Pops and her through many struggles over the years. Nothing too terrible. Just typical adolescent issues that they were able to handle. Except for Tarik’s brief brush with the law in his teens, they had managed to avoid the urban pitfalls that slapped crippling criminal records on young Black and Latino men.

Jonathan joined them downstairs. Showing off his skills, he twirled his basketball on the tip of his index finger and then, for added effect, rolled it along his arms.

Only marginally impressed, Ophelia exclaimed, “Oooo! What
a talented young man you are! Here.” She shoved a rag at Jonathan. “Let’s see some of those other skills…you DUST.”

Jonathan dropped the ball. “Hey, what’s going on here? What did I walk in on?”

Carlos pulled the vacuum cleaner out of the closet beneath the stairs. “Ma’s turned me and Tarik into her slaves.”

“Ma, I thought you were hiring a crew to help you with Saturday?”

“I did…you, Carlos and Tarik.” She turned around to face Tarik as he was cleaning behind the bar. “And don’t break my crystal glasses, please.”

“Ma…I got primo press for Tarik for this event and there’s a good picture of him in the
Amsterdam News’
entertainment section.”

“Make sure you get me clippings for the scrapbook, Carlos.” She looked at all three young men. “Pops would sure be proud of all you boys now. Jonathan with the basketball. Carlos, you’re doing so well in school and handling Tarik’s career so professionally. And Tarik, well, baby, he’d be real pleased to see how hard and earnest you’ve been working for your dream.” She gave them each a hug.

Tarik hugged his mother again. “He’d be proud of the way you’re keeping busy helping us and working in the community with your AIDS program.”

“Now that I got you guys organized, I’m going upstairs to finish painting my study. I appreciate all of your help.”

A chorus of “Sure, Mother” and “No problem, Ma,” followed her as she walked up the stairs to the parlor floor. Upon reaching the landing, she dragged herself to the end of an exquisitely decorated hall, and entered her private study. Surveying its contents, she slapped her hands on both hips and exclaimed out loud, “Finally, I can finish this room!”
It was her latest decorating project. On her desk were several swatches of fabric for window treatments and a new slipcover that would soon rejuvenate the old sofa she had recently purchased at an estate sale. Shelves of books lined the walls, mostly medical texts. She picked up a paintbrush and slapped three different colors on the one wall that did not have any shelves.

On this same wall hung a picture of a yellow rose. It was obviously an unfinished painting as there was a pencil-traced outline of a vase on the bottom left-hand corner of the canvas. Ophelia stepped back, trying to decipher which hue served her decorating purposes. She’d painted the room several times over the past twenty years, and it was always the same demand. Which color best matched the unfinished yellow rose painting?

As if engaging in a forbidden act, she closed the door behind her and walked over to the painting. She tenderly stroked its mahogany frame as if it were alive. A tsunami-size wave of memory whisked her back to the time Eli had started the painting. Thoughts of a love that had come and violently swept away tormented her.
Damn it, Eli! The only thing you ever finished was our love.

“Tarik, how’d you know you were in love with Sherry?”

“Love? Why is the Mack Man so interested in love all of a sudden?”

“Why can’t a brother just entertain a little curiosity?” replied Carlos, smiling from ear to ear like an overweight kid who’d just discovered where the candy was hiding.

“Not the way you do things. Like, the way you run through girls. The way you called them ‘hoes’ and ‘tramps’ and ‘freaks.’ Hell, I thought you considered women mere fluid receptacles.”

Carlos cringed when he heard his brother’s appraisal. It was partially true.

No, hell, it was all true,
he thought. He did have a low opinion of women. That was, until he met Nicola. He realized he must have been sampling from the shallow, murky end of the female pool. He was now in the deeper and classier section.

Carlos hadn’t bent his knees in a spiritual way since Pops died. Meeting Nicola sent him back to church. Ever since he met her, he constantly prayed he wasn’t too far in over his head and that he could keep this refined woman interested in him. It would take much more than his big dick to keep her satisfied.

Carlos now referred to everything in his life as either occurring before or after meeting Nicola. The former ladies’ man’s
first and last thought of the day was now how he was going to live the rest of his life with this woman. He understood fully what Tarik was trying to tell him. Carlos was in love with Nicola James. Little hearts encircling both of their names, covered notepads on his desk.

Never wanting body tattoos before and now wanting anything that represented permanence, he made an appointment at the biggest parlor in downtown Brooklyn. The artist agreed to put a huge tattoo with her name on the left side of his chest, right over his heart. He would have that tattoo forever; just like he prayed he’d have Nicola forever. Carlos’s nose was so wideopen planes could fly through it.

What kept blowing his mind was he had only known Nicola for a few days. They hadn’t even consummated the relationship. That first night all they shared was a long intimate. They stayed in the car just talking until the sun rose. Nicola made it clear that she was ready for an intimate “visit” and had invited him into her Harlem brownstone.

Not wanting to rush things, he declined the offer. He wanted to take it good and slow with this woman. He wanted their first time to be the beginning of forever for the both of them. Initially disappointed, Nicola eventually agreed with the idea.

He tried to plan the perfect moment for their lovemaking. He asked anyone who listened about advice on romancing a special lady. He was anxious to please Nicola. He knew from their conversation she had seen the world with her ex-husband. She’d led a charmed life and he wanted desperately to prove to her that he could provide the same.

He rarely considered the age difference. She finally confessed to twenty-seven. A two-year difference was insignificant. What was significant was his bank account. After sinking his inheri-
tance into the record company, his cash flow was tighter than he liked it to be.

Carlos bumped up his efforts to make Tarik’s concert as large as possible. With a strong audience reception, the record labels would not only sweeten the contract but increase the upfront dollar advance as well. He understood how the dollar bills were generated in the industry, and he worked overtime to make sure it continuously flowed in Tarik’s and his direction.

Yes, if all things went according to plan, he’d soon be set financially and if what he thought he could have with Nicola was real, she’d be around to help him spend his cash. Yes, everything was gonna turn out right for everybody.

Carlos’s head was stuck too deep in the clouds of romance to notice that Jonathan was trying his best to avoid him. As he was the only one who’d actually met Nicola, Carlos tried to share the events of their developing relationship with him, but the basketball player was never around. It helped though, knowing that someone other than himself had seen her, because he was beginning to think that he’d just conjured her up.

Since that first night, he’d had only short phone conversations with her. She was busy at night with clients. Though it troubled him a little that she was inaccessible, Carlos decided to be patient. He did not want to appear possessive so soon in the relationship. They would spend the whole evening after the concert together. He had planned to take her to a top hotel for the night. If everything went his way, it would be a memorable evening for both of them.

“You’re doing real good work, Jonathan.”

“Oh, thanks, Coach.”

Jonathan smiled to himself as he headed for the showers after a particularly grueling early-morning workout. It was the first positive feedback he’d had since he had arrived two weeks ago. He was beginning to doubt his skills. But fortunately, the hard work was beginning to pay off. He could feel that his game had seriously bumped up several notches. When he returned to high school, he’d be a lethal weapon indeed.

The other players were excellent competitors. He was looking at future NBA stars. Still beaming from his first pat on his back, he allowed himself to entertain the possibility that one day he too would don the jersey of a professional basketball team. But that was a few years away. He had a little thing like high school and college to complete before he had to make the decision about what team to play for. Jonathan headed straight for home. He was tired. Tonight was Tarik’s concert and he wanted to be well rested.

“Jonathan, man, wake up! Wake up!” Carlos shook Jonathan out of deep sleep.

Half-drowsy, he thought Carlos was asking him to pick up
Nicola for him. He woke up fully. “You can’t be serious, Carlos!”

“Help a brother out. I’m going to be busy with the concert—you know, politicking with the A&R label folks. That would totally bore Nicola. If you’d do this one thing for me.”

But that one little thing would be one thing too many. Since he’d met Nicola, he was having trouble knowing she was in the same city as he was. That was too close. But now this.

“I don’t know, Carlos. I just…”

Carlos interrupted. “If you’re bringing a girl, well, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Jonathan shook his head; there was no way he could get out of dodging Carlos’s request. “No, it’s not like that. I thought you two would be together, you know, doing your couple thing. I was just thinking about you, man. Sure, I’ll uh, pick Nicola up and keep her company.” Lying through his teeth, Jonathan covered his nose, hoping that the Pinocchio tale was just a myth.

Carlos was genuinely relieved. He patted Jonathan on his back. “You’re a lifesaver. I didn’t want her to be all alone. Didn’t want the brothers smellin’ new meat and gettin’ all horny and shit and tryin’ to tap my lady before I got a chance my damn self. You know how treacherous they can be sometimes. Good to have blood around to help protect your property, if you know what I mean.”

A cold frost traveled up and down Jonathan’s spine. He had betrayed that trust so many times in his dreams with Nicola. He’d have to behave himself completely when they were together at the concert. He didn’t know whether to be happy that he’d be near Nicola or sad because he had to control himself with her. He decided to be sad, for truly behaving himself would prove to be a most difficult task.

Carlos took out his keys and wrote down her address, phone
number, and directions. “I already told her about the change in plans and she’s cool with it.” Carlos misinterpreted Jonathan’s reluctance. “Hey, I might even make you best man at the wedding. Tarik would be pissed though.” He thought about it for a moment. “Fuck, I ain’t got to be conventional; I can have two best men. Thanks, man.” With that, Carlos darted out the room to tie up last-minute details relating to the concert.

“Jonathan! It’s so good of you to pick me up like this. Come on in.” Nicola answered the door wearing next to nothing. Embarrassed by its revealing nature, Jonathan tried his best not to look directly at her as he entered her home. Chatting as if nothing was unusual, she added, “I tried to tell Carlos I could have called a limo and travelled to the little concert, but he wouldn’t listen.”

He flinched when he heard the “little” part. Carlos would have cringed to hear his crowning moment in the industry reduced to a mere “little concert.” But, to an outsider, he had to admit, it was indeed a little concert.