Preseason Love (5 page)

When I hung up the phone, I clicked on the start menu to log out of his computer, but my curiosity got the better of me.
I wonder what that wicked witch has been saying about me?
My boss was a habitual shit talker.

I had great intuition and when I followed it, I was never steered wrong. At that moment, alone in the partner's office, it was all too easy. His email inbox was already open, so I hit the search button
and began to look through the emails that were from my manager. I was on edge and my eyes were scanning the screen at a rapid pace. Any one of my coworkers could've walked in without notice and caught me in the act.

My hands were slightly shaking, but I clicked through as much information as I could as fast as I could, skimming through the emails that caught my attention. It didn't take long to find what I was looking for. What I read blew my mind! The woman was crazy and insecure, but I did not know that she was actually out to sabotage me.

The first email, from only two days prior, read: “So now you are letting her transfer to New York. I thought that you were going to fire that bitch?”
She actually referred to me as a bitch!
I was in shock. His response, “If she requested to go, then I'm going to let her go. We can take care of everything else later.”

This was my first lesson in how truly treacherous and foul people can be in the business world—especially in entertainment. Oftentimes, it's not about the work that you do. It's about how much ass you kiss to make people like you.

I finished scanning a few more scandalous email messages and ultimately read enough to know that my time at the agency was coming to an end. I was fine with moving on as long as I made my way to New York first. I knew I could brace myself for whatever came later. But first things first; I had the New York office to deal with.

After enduring a few more meetings on my first day, it was time to head to happy hour with Dev. We'd heard about a sexy spot in SoHo with great drink specials and yummy-looking men. Dev and I linked up at the N train in midtown and headed downtown to see what type of shenanigans we could get into.

The walk from the train station to the lounge wasn't too bad. I was still trying to get used to all of the walking required in the city.

Before we approached the lounge, I shook my head and finished touching up my nude lip-gloss. Dev shimmied down the street in her four-inch stilettos adjusting her tight, royal blue pencil skirt while simultaneously tousling the front of her shiny black asymmetrical bob. Dev was a trip. She loved to get dolled up every single day. Me, on the other hand, since I've always worked in entertainment, dressing in corporate attire had never been my thing. I simply dressed according to my mood. Sometimes I would feel like rocking a cute little black dress and “come fuck me heels.” But the very next day I could be on my B-girl swag with a sexy pair of skinny jeans and some fly, limited-edition kicks. Either way, I would still feel as sexy as the next chick.

The scene in the lounge was inviting. The candlelit tables were filled with men and women who wanted to see and be seen. My girls were propped up nicely, and I was ready to mingle.

Dev and I headed to the bar in the rear. I set my sights on a seat next to a well-dressed man with a lean, basketball build. I walked up and tapped the gentleman on the shoulder. He spun around and my face turned into absolute shock. They must have deleted the dental plan from his benefits package because this man's teeth were jacked up.

I can deal with dudes of all sizes and complexions, so long as they are taller than me and have good teeth. But this guy's grill was crisscrossing with a few teeth running to the left and the others fleeing to the right. “Oh hell no!”

“Excuse me?” he said.

He was confused. I had tapped him to get his attention, but I
didn't realize that I had blurted out what I was thinking. Sometimes my face would say what I was thinking, but this time my vocal cords backed it up.

I cleared my throat and managed to mumble, “Is this seat taken?”

With an agitated look on his face, he shook his head, and I politely slid onto the stool.

When I looked over at Dev, she had the stupidest look sprawled across her face. I could tell that it was taking everything in her power not to burst out into a roar of laughter. I gave her the squinted evil eye and proceeded to order a drink, which I desperately needed.

The music was so loud that I unintentionally yelled at the bartender, “May I have a glass of Riesling, please?! Actually, make it a double!”

Dev finished up her conversation with a possible suitor, then met me at the bar. We were swapping stories about our day and gossiping a bit when we noticed a young lady who seemed out of place looking suspiciously in our direction as she walked across the room. Her tan Timberland boots let me know that she was at the wrong happy hour. She was glaring with disdain like one of us had stolen her man. Dev and I looked at each other puzzled. We didn't know many people in the city and we definitely didn't know her. The woman finally looked away once she realized that we were staring back at her. We dismissed her petty antics and continued our conversation.

After a few cocktails, Dev and I decided to head to another spot since the night was still young. It was a Tuesday and my first day of work in the city was complete. I was feeling light as a feather and carefree. We were walking down the sidewalk pointing out silly observations and giggling when I suggested we hail a yellow cab.
As the cabby sped off, Dev and I flew back in our seats trying to ramble off our destination. The cabby was driving like he was in the Indy 500. “Can we please make it to our destination alive?” I whispered to Dev.

No sooner than the words left my lips our cab swerved. The sound of tires screeching rang out. Our driver had cut off another yellow cab. Thankfully the other driver had reacted quickly to avoid smashing into us. The profanities and yelling started almost instantaneously—right after the radical horn blowing.

The driver that our cabby cut off was now on the side of us, my side to be exact, and he was furious. He looked like a sixty-year-old grandfather that should not be cursing like a lunatic. He rolled down his window and started screaming at our driver in a language that I could not understand. There was only one word that I did recognize: “Motherfucker!”

They are making me lose my buzz.

Our driver yelled back. He had some nerve, considering that it was his fault.

Suddenly we felt our cab shift erratically to the right and “BOOM!” Our driver smashed up against the other cab and swiped his side mirror off. Fragments of mirrored glass and yellow plastic went flying.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Dev shouted. “Stop this damn cab right now and let us out!”

“You must have lost your damn mind!” I chimed in.

“But…miss…did you see him? I apologize, miss. I apologize,” the driver pleaded.

“Oh no, it's way too late for that!” Dev shouted.

We jumped out of the cab, slamming the door behind us. If that reject thought that he would get a single cent from us, he was
sadly mistaken. Like Thelma and Louise, we walked away from the scene of the crime and never looked back. We let the cabby's fussing and yelling fade in the distance.

That debacle was almost enough to stop our fun for the night. But we were getting used to the crazy happenings in the New York streets. Instead of going home, we quickened our strides with the frigid winter air whipping against our cheeks. Our destination was only a few blocks away at an underground spot Dev's hairdresser had told her about. Questlove of The Roots was DJing.

New York was known for having its hidden gems, so we giddily walked down an unassuming street on the Lower East Side looking for a red door. When we walked up to the mystery door, Dev tugged at the handle with a bit of hesitation. We crossed the threshold and it was as if we had entered a different world. Black velvet lined the walls and a “barely there” light fixture gave the doorman
just
enough glow to check our IDs. After he signaled the thumbs-up, we hit the stairs heading down into the abyss. The spot was small and crazy crowded, but the scene was dope, and the secret underground feeling gave me a rush.

Casually pushing my way through the crowd, I spotted a tall, clean-cut Idris Elba look-alike heading in my direction. He looked fly so naturally I wanted to see how he moved. I posted up on the wall and watched him work.

He walked through the room with a sense of confidence that I was definitely digging. I saw him speak to a few people, both male and female, but it was obvious that he was rolling solo. Showed independence, I liked that. Never one to seem pressed, I inadvertently glanced in his direction. Not to my surprise, he was looking in my direction as well. I was standing next to an oversized
gold Buddha—don't ask—and we caught eyes. Of course, this was not a love-at-first-sight type of situation, but he had my attention and I hoped that I had his. In any event, I would not be a fool again and walk up to some strange man in a club thinking that he was looking in my direction.

Dev and I grabbed drinks and mingled throughout the scene. I met some interesting people. A part-time DJ and dog walker, a girl who was out with her friends because she just broke up with her boyfriend Gino, and last but certainly not least, the Idris Elba look-alike named Kari.

Kari was super sexy and there was no denying it. Through our conversation, I learned that he was around my age, worked in midtown as a publicist—crazy coincidence—and he was born and raised in Brooklyn.

He fidgeted with his black, button-down shirt as he cracked corny jokes and talked about his love for travel. Beyond the physical, I thought he was endearing.

We both scanned the room and bobbed our heads to the music. I tried not to stare at him when he wasn't looking.

“So did you leave a man back in California?” he asked after a long stretch of silence.

His chocolate, flawless complexion and sensual, brown eyes had me mesmerized. “Well, uh, I wasn't really…short answer, no.” I didn't expect that question and I had begun fidgeting myself.

“Perfect. So can I take you out sometime?”

I was concentrated on his full, kissable lips, but I managed to respond, “I'd like that.”

“Are you available Thursday after work?” he inquired, looming over me roughly at six feet two with excellent posture.

“Yeah, I'm free.” I was definitely intrigued by Mr. Kari.

Normally you had to play the game of giving a guy your number, then he would wait the obligatory two days to call, only to end up playing a game of phone or text tag. Then you finally established firm plans for a date roughly two weeks later, only to realize that he wasn't as cute or interesting as you remembered. It could really be a waste of your time. So Kari was an introduction to a new way of doing things. Like I said: brand-new city, brand-new me.

T
o my surprise, the next morning I received a text message from Kari. This naturally made me smile like a kindergartner with a cookie. But a million thoughts also went through my head. I was used to the typical Los Angeles men who played entirely too many games and almost acted as if you were supposed to chase them. Despite my reservations, the new approach from Kari was refreshing.

I responded to his message with a safe, “Morning, sunshine.” He wished me a lovely day and that was the end of the communication—which was fine with me. Sometimes too much too soon could be a bad thing.

Admittedly, my day was a bit brighter since I had someone handsome to daydream about. New like was always the best phase in a relationship. You're in a state of endless possibilities. You could create whatever story, fantasy, or background you wanted to dream up because you hadn't had the opportunity to experience the new person.

“Scottie!”

I was quickly snapped out of my thoughts.

“Have you had a chance to start working on the RSVP rundown for the Sting event?”

It was Barbra, my manager.

“Yes,” I said, suddenly alert. “I've established the email address and drafted the copy. I'll email you the copy for review right now.”

“Perfect! Thanks, hun!”

Barbra was so cheerful, it seemed as though she didn't have a care in the world.

I was actually excited about working the Sting fundraising concert. It was my first event in the city and it was at an amazing loft space in Tribeca. I had worked plenty of events in Los Angeles, but I wasn't quite sure what to expect from the New York scene.

As I clicked back into the screen with my personal email open, an Instant Message popped up. My heart paused. It was Ivan. I had forgotten to block him.

11:02 AM IVANdaMan: What's up? How is New York treating you?

11:07 AM SassyScottT: Great so far.

11:08 AM IVANdaMan: So why did you leave me?

11:08 AM SassyScottT: Contrary to YOUR popular belief, not everything is about you, Ivan.

11:10 AM VANdaMan: You know what I mean. You know that I really did want to be with you.

11:11 AM SassyScottT: How many times have we been through this?

11:11 AM SassyScottT: I'm gone now and you were never willing to give me what I wanted or needed so I moved on.

11:12 AM IVANdaMan: But you had to move so far away?

11:13 AM SassyScottT: Absolutely.

There was a long pause in the conversation. My stomach was in knots and my silk blouse suddenly started clinging to my body in what felt like a restrictive hold. My temperature had risen and sweat beads were forming on my neck. I could only imagine that he was trying to decide what to say next. I repeated to myself over
and over,
whatever he has to say it does not really matter.
My life was moving on and his problem was that he thought I would be around forever for him to string along, but I got smart and got out.