The Mike Black Saga; MOB (13 page)

“No. I may try one next time I’m here,” Travis said as he watched
Me’shelle take a sip of her coffee. The sight of her lips on the cup moved him in ways no woman had ever moved him before—not even Mystique, and she had ways of moving a man. This was different.

Travis tried to rationalize that he was probably feeling this way because he had dreamt and fantasized about this woman so much. Now that he was finally here, he was probably just making more of it than there actually was. Travis quickly dismissed that thought.

Me’shelle was different.

“So talk to me, Travis. Tell me who you are.”

“There’s not much to tell. I came up right here in the Bronx. I went to college at
University of Connecticut
and became a programmer. Now I work for myself,” Travis said, telling her as much of the truth as he could. He didn’t think it was a good time to tell her that he was the leader of a robbing crew. “So, who are you, Me’shelle? I want to know everything about you.”

“Well, let me see. I’ll give you the short version. How about that?”

“Okay.” Travis smiled.

“I was born in Queens, and my family moved to the Bronx when I was young. I’m a teacher. A third grade teacher, to be exact. But to be honest with you, Travis, I really don’t like talking about myself. If you stay around me long enough, you’ll find out everything you ever wanted to know.”

“I hope it’s a very long learning process. I think I’d enjoy getting to know you slowly.”

“So, you’re not one of those men who expects to have sex with me tonight? Who, after I sleep with him, slowly loses interest in me because my body is really all he was interested in?” Me’shelle asked, motioning with her hands as she said ‘my body.’

Travis smiled and leaned forward, taking in with his eyes all of the body he could see above the table. “Was that a question or a statement?”

“It was definitely a question and a statement,” Me’shelle said and smiled.

“Can I answer you honestly?”

“I think that you should.”

“Me’shelle, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. And I’ve known some bad ones.”

“Why thank you, Travis,” Me’shelle beamed.

“You’re welcome, Me’shelle. And to be very honest with you, I would love to make love to you. I’ve dreamed of making love to you.” Travis let out a little laugh. “And a few other things that I can’t and don’t want to explain.”

“But in time, I wanna hear about those too. I think that our dreams are an expression of what we really think and feel.”

“I think so too. That’s why I’m sitting here with you. But like I was saying, I would love to make love to you right here, right now.”

Me’shelle closed her eyes for a second and quickly got a mental image of herself seated on the table with her arms around Travis’s neck, her legs wrapped around his waist and Travis pumpin’ it to her slowly. She opened her eyes and smiled.

“But I think that I want to know you, Me’shelle,” Travis continued. “I want to know more about you than you know about yourself. And I want you to know all about me, so when I do make love to you—and I am going to make love to you—I’ll be making love with you and to you, Me’shelle. Not just Me’shelle’s body.”

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you, Travis?”

“You said be honest. And besides, if I don’t believe in myself, how can I ever hope to get you to believe in me and what I say?”

“I guess you can’t.” Me’shelle raised her coffee cup. “Here’s to getting to know each other. I just hope that you mean what you say.”

“Me’shelle, trust me. I mean everything I say,” Travis said, pressing his cup against hers. “To getting to know you slowly.”

With the flirtation and statement of intentions out of the way, they talked their way through coffee, doing much more talking than drinking. After a second cup and more conversation, Travis walked Me’shelle to her car. She unlocked the door but didn’t get in. They talked at the car for another hour or so until Me’shelle attempted to drag herself away.

“I have to go.” She laughed as she leaned against the car. Travis leaned shoulder to shoulder on the car next to her. Standing this close to Me’shelle excited him.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll make it easy for you. I’ll say good night. I enjoyed my evening, Me’shelle.”

“So did I,” she said.

“Can I call you sometime? I’d like to see you again.”

“Why don’t you give me your number and I’ll call you,” Me’shelle said. Travis quickly wrote down his number and handed it to her. “Well, Travis, thank you again. I really have enjoyed talking to you.”

“So, does that mean you’ll call me?”

Me’shelle smiled and opened the car door. “Maybe sooner than you think,” she replied and got in.

As she drove away, Travis looked at his watch. They had been talking almost non-stop for more than three hours. Travis walked to his car thinking,
Now that was an interesting conversationalist.

Sunday went as all Sundays did for Me’shelle. She got up early and hit the treadmill. She didn’t fall this time, even though her thoughts were of Bruce. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since she told him she wouldn’t give him any more money to support his habit. His words rang in her ears once again.
How you gonna live with yourself when I’m dead?
Me’shelle pushed the thought out of her mind. She went to her aunt’s house for Sunday dinner and while she was there, Bruce called to speak with her.

“What’s up, Me’shelle?”

“Bruce, where have been? I was worried about you. Is everything all right?”

“Worried about me, huh? But not worried enough to help me out, huh, Me’shelle? Anyway, I’m fine. We’re all fine. We’re down south.”

“Down south? Down south where?”

“We’re in Columbia, at Grandma’s house,” Bruce replied.

“Good. That’s where you should stay. It might keep you out of trouble for a while.”

“Yeah, maybe. But we’ll just be down here for a couple more weeks until I get my shit back to where it needs to be.”

“So, you’re coming back?”

“Yeah, Me’shelle, I’m a New York City boy, and it’s a little too country down here for me. Some of these niggas still rockin’
Jh
eri curls. The women are cool, and fine as hell, though.”

Me’shelle laughed. “Maybe slow and country is what you need to slow your ass down. Give yourself a chance to get yourself back together. Stop smoking that stuff before it kills you or gets you killed. And what about Brandy? Is she in school?”

“No,” Bruce said flatly.

“Don’t you think she needs to be?”

“Yeah, but she wasn’t goin’ to school too tough while she was up there.”

“That’s why you should have let Aunt Juanita get custody of her. Brandy doesn’t need to be livin’ that life with you and your dope fiend wife. She needs a chance, Bruce. Don’t you see that she’s on the wrong path now?”

“Yeah, yeah, sister Mary-Me’shelle. I understand all that. But I didn’t call you to get a lecture. I just called to let you know where we were, that we’re all right and that we’ll be back in a couple of weeks.”

“Well, thank you, Bruce. You know I was worried.”

“You worry too much, Me’shelle. You should worry about findin’ you a man before that pussy dries up and nobody wants your ass,” Bruce said jokingly.

“You are so gross, Bruce, but you always have been. And for your information, I had a date last night.”

“You’re kiddin’. Well, it’s about time you stop waiting for big head Trent to realize he made the biggest mistake of his life, leave the tittie woman alone and come back to you. It’s time you get on with your life. So, who is this nigga?”

“His name is Travis Burns.”

“Travis Burns—Travis Burns. Where have I heard that name before?” Bruce wondered aloud.

“I doubt you know him. He’s not like the lowlifes you run around with. He’s a programmer,” Me’shelle said.

“Whatever, Me’shelle. Look, I gotta go. I don’t wanna run up Grandma’s phone bill.”

“Okay, Bruce. Kiss Brandy and Grandma for me and tell them that I love them. And snatch the pipe out of Natalie’s mouth and slap her upside the head for me,” Me’shelle said.

“Bye, Me’shelle.” Bruce laughed, thinking that she was right. Natalie did smoke too much and was the reason they were in the spot they were in.

“Bye, Bruce.”

When Me’shelle got home, she took a long, hot bath and got ready for bed. Once she had made herself comfortable in bed, she called Travis. “Hello, Travis?”

“Yes.”

“This is Me’shelle. How are you?”

“I’m fine, Me’shelle. How are you today?”

“I’m fine. Did I catch you at a bad time?” Me’shelle asked.

“No, not at all. I’m glad you called,” Travis said, thankful that he told Mystique he was tired and didn’t let her come get in the bed with him as she requested. “I was just sitting here working out the bugs in a program I’m going to run in the morning.” He was actually working on the final details of the grocery store robbery that they planned on running in the morning. “But I was really just keeping myself busy, sitting by the telephone waiting for you to call.”

“You know, Travis, you say the nicest things. Do you say things like that to every woman you meet?” Me’shelle asked.

“No, I don’t. I don’t meet women like you every day. There’s something special about you, Me’shelle. I can’t quite put my finger on it or give it a name, but it’s something.”

“So, tell me about these dreams of yours.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re silly.”

“Last night you said those dreams were the reason you were sitting there with me.”

“They are, but they’re still silly.”

“Come on, Travis. I promise I won’t tell anybody about them. It will be our little secret.”

“Okay,” Travis said sheepishly. “But you have to promise to share a secret with me. You promise?”

“Yes, I promise.” Me’shelle giggled. It felt so good to laugh again.

“Okay. Don’t laugh, okay?”

“I will if it’s funny.”

“After you attacked me with your cart, I used to have these dreams where I’d try to talk to you but something would always keep me from getting to you. So, one night I dreamed that I was on the D train and it’s rush hour. You’re on the train, too, but you’re sitting across from me.

“There’s a man sitting next to you. The next stop is Times Square and the man gets up and goes for the door. You say, ‘Come sit next to me, Travis,’ but when I get up, the doors open up and everybody rushes on the train and I can’t get to you.

“So, when we get to Thirty-fourth Street, the doors open and some of the people get off, and now there are these two white girls sitting where you were. I look around for you and you’re standing on the platform. I try to get off, but I run into the guy from the seafood counter at the grocery store. Once I get around him, the doors close in front of me. But even though the doors are closed, I can still hear you saying, ‘
Well maybe you should look where you’re going.’ ”