The Night Before Thirty (5 page)

By the time Chris got off the phone, Tanya had gotten them a reservation.

“So what's up, baby?”

“Well, we have an eleven o'clock reservation. The kitchen closes at eleven-thirty and the restaurant at midnight.”

“Eleven o'clock. Cool. That gives us a chance to make a stop on the way there.”

Tanya pouted. “Why?”

“It won't take long, baby. I promise we'll make it on time. It's just gonna be a quick stop.”

“Okay. Well, let me get my coat.” Tanya went to the closet, breathing a quick sigh of relief. She selected her full-length fur coat to shield her from the harsh Chicago winds, and then walked toward Chris, who was standing at the door with his cigar holder in his hands.

“Damn, baby, you look good in that coat.” He pulled out a Cuban but didn't light it. He liked to play around with it in his mouth. He usually waited until after sex, dinner, or drinks to light up.

“I aim to please,” Tanya said proudly.

“If you keep being good to Daddy, like you've been, then I'll get you a mink that same length for Christmas.”

Tanya smiled big, walked over to her man, and kissed his neck while palming his penis with her hands. “I'll always be good to you,” she said, and then walked by him and opened the door.

Chris lifted his eyebrows and poked out his lips. “Now, that's what I'm talkin’ ‘bout,” he said, following Tanya out the door.

TANYA SAT PATIENTLY
in the passenger seat of Chris's Cadillac Escalade. She had long since changed the hip-hop song that was blaring in her ear to something with a softer groove. When he made these runs, she didn't ask who he was going to see about what or why. She knew how her man made his money, by selling drugs and firearms. She was never with him when he was in the midst of an actual firearms transaction but was fully aware that it was part of his MO.

She was present, however, during countless minor drug transactions that were discreetly handled. Chris didn't deal in typical street sales. He dealt with the “rich white boys” in their condos and penthouses, big money sales one huge drop at a time. Tanya tried to stay as far away from his customers' eyes as possible—the less they knew about her, the better, and vice versa.

She and Chris didn't talk about business a whole lot. She knew what she needed to know and would put up with his occupation for a little
while longer. He had promised her he'd quit once he reached his goal of being half a million dollars liquid, and he was close. Hidden in various banks and backyards, buried underneath trees and in family members' basements and garages, he had saved more than $260,000 over the past eight years. Just as soon as he made his last few big hits, he was going to give it up completely. They would get married and move to Atlanta, where Chris was going to become legit, open a rims shop, and live off his stash. So he said.

Tanya remained tolerant. Although she wanted so badly for Chris to be more like the guys that her coworkers dated—nine-to-five workers with good corporate jobs, who followed weekly schedules and were reliable—she was forced to face the reality of their situation. She wouldn't dare leave him; they had been together too long and had seen too much together, had experienced too much together. They had become family.

She'd met Chris while she was still a senior in high school. She and her good friend, Angel, got all made up one night and sneaked into a nightclub with their fake IDs. Chris had been one of the first men she'd seen when she walked through the door. He seemed so cool with a cigar in his mouth, so mature. Tanya couldn't help but stare. Her friend was excited they'd actually made it past the bouncer and was tugging at her arm, squealing, “We made it in, can you believe it?”

Tanya didn't join in because she was so taken by the sight that was before her. She was absolutely gaga.

“What are you looking at?” Angel insisted.

Tanya turned away to inform her friend, “Only the finest man in the club.” Then she directed Angel's attention toward Chris, who was standing by the bar, talking with two other brothers.

“Let's go speak,” Angel said.

“What? Wait.”

“Well, we're in here. We've planned this for weeks. So let's at least go over to the bar and get a drink,” Angel said, trying to appear mature. “Can you believe we're about to order our first real drinks? Do you remember what we said we'd get?”

“Yes, I remember. We're ordering Long Island iced teas,” Tanya answered, with her own air of womanhood. She took a deep breath, forced herself to stop drooling, and made her way over to the bar, close to
where Chris was standing. The young ladies grabbed two seats and began signaling the bartender. Before they got his attention, they had attracted the attention of one of the guys who was standing with Chris.

The guy motioned to the bartender, who then walked over to him. After saying something to him, the bartender walked over to them and asked, “What are you having?”

The girls placed their orders.

“These are compliments of the gentleman a few seats down,” he said when he returned.

The pair looked up, and the guy raised his glass toward them and nodded.

Her friend slapped Tanya's arm. “Is that the one you were checking out?”

“No. The one I was peeping is not even paying us any attention. He's the one in the shades who's talking to the other guy.”

“Good. Because I'm diggin' on this guy's look. He's got that 'I just got out of prison' roughneck look that is stirring up my wild side,” she said, raising her glass back at him and smiling.

“That was bold!” Tanya commented.

“I know—now what do I do?” Angel asked nervously.

“We sit here and sip on our drinks, and then we casually get up and make our way toward the dance floor,” Tanya answered, as if she had a clue.

“Okay, but what if they don't speak to us before then?”

“That's not gonna be a problem for you. But me, on the other hand, I don't know,” Tanya replied, and looked past her friend, whose back was to her pursuer.

“What do you mean?” Angel asked.

Just then the guy edged close and hovered over Angel.

“So do you like your drinks?” he asked. His voice was deep and raspy.

“We do, thank you.” Angel looked up at the guy, who was not giving her any room to breathe. She shrugged and adjusted herself in the seat, attempting to find some distance.

“Oh, am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked.

“No, not at all,” she lied.

He stepped back anyway and reached out his hand. “I'm Greg,” he said. “What's your name, pretty lady?”

“Angel. And this is my friend Tanya,” she said. Tanya waved.

He shook her hand then turned his attention back toward Angel. “Peep this. None of these other niggas in here will show you as good a time as I can. So ain't no need in looking around. You stopped at the right spot. Right here by me.” He grinned, seemingly pleased at the game he had just dropped.

“That's a bold introduction,” Angel responded.

“I'm just keepin' it real.”

“Well, as long as we're keeping it real, what's up with your boy over there? My girl is checking him out,” she said.

“Oh, so it's like that,” he said, and looked over at Tanya. “She's fine enough. All right, I'll put in a word.”

Tanya couldn't hear the conversation but wondered why this strange guy was eyeing her. She nudged Angel, who turned back to her, lifting her right eyebrow mischievously.

“What's going on?” Tanya asked.

Angel quickly looked away from Tanya and put her hand on Greg's shoulder. “So what's up?” she asked. “Are you gonna make sure both of us have a good time or what?”

“All right,” he reluctantly replied. “I'll check it out and see what's up.” He walked away.

Angel updated Tanya while they waited.

“I told you we should have done this a long time ago. Those boys at school don't got nothing on the men here,” Angel said.

“Girl, I can't believe I'm going to meet him. He's too fine. I'm telling you right now, I don't care how old he is, Angel, I'm pulling him.”

“Do your thing, girl,” Angel replied.

Greg returned and walked over to Tanya, “Wave at my boy and smile, so he can see your teeth,” he said.

“What did you ask me?” Tanya frowned.

“Dang, girl, just smile and say hi. It's all good,” he said, and walked back over to Angel.

Tanya panicked; she began to tap her fingers nervously on the bar. But she knew from the moment she spotted him that she had to meet him, so she leaned back in her seat and looked over to where he was standing. Then she waved and managed the sexiest smile that she could.

Chris smiled back, took a final sip of his drink, set it on the bar, and walked over to her. Instead of introducing himself, he stopped short and stared at her from head to toe. Then he poked out his lips, licked them, and moved closer.

“So you wanted to meet me,” he said.

“Yeah, I wanted to meet you,” she responded, attempting to appear confident. She looked him directly in his shades. But inside she was shivering with fear. What if he found out that she was only eighteen? What if he asked her age? What would she say? She decided she'd say twenty-one, the age on her fake ID. “So what's your name?” she asked. She figured she'd question him before he could her.

“My name is Chris, but everybody calls me Big C,” he said and held up a huge gold C pendant hanging on a thick gold rope around his neck. “But you, sexy, can call me Chris.”

“Okay, Chris,” Tanya responded. She was really getting into his thug-life persona, when he abruptly changed the flow of the conversation.

“Listen, write down your number on a napkin or something, and I'll call you.”

“You're leaving?” Tanya asked, disappointed.

“Well, I got to go take care of some business, and I might not be able to find you when I get back, or you might be gone. If you give me your number now, maybe I can swing by your place later tonight.”

Tanya frowned.

“Or maybe I can hit you up later, and we can get together some other time. You know?”

“Okay,” Tanya said, “I'll give you my pager number.” She didn't want to give him her home number, because she didn't want him to know that she still lived with her mother.

“What? Are you married or something?” he huffed.

“No, I live with my sister,” she lied, “and I don't like to give her number out to strangers. Just page me, and I'll call you.”

“Okay, I'll page you, but you'd better not be living with no nigga, 'cause I ain't got no time for that kind of drama. You feel me?” he said, and then calmed his posturing a bit. “All right, sexy,” he said. He blew her a kiss and strolled out of the door of the club.

Tanya was smitten. She could tell Chris was the kind of nigga that didn't take no shit, but she could also tell he had a gentle side and that
he would protect her—that's exactly what she needed in her hood, a down brother who would have your back.

She begged Angel to stay an hour later than planned, hoping to be able to see Chris again. The two closed down the club. Tanya danced a few times but spent most of the evening hoping and waiting for Chris to walk back through the door. Some things didn't change: Eleven years later and Tanya was in the same holding pattern with Chris.

She turned up the heat in the truck, snuggled her chin in the lining of her fur coat, lost herself in the music that was flowing through the speakers, and tried to relax, but the reality of their relationship was hard to swallow. She was still waiting to get the chance to spend time with the man who was still hustling while planning to find time to spend time with her.

LISE ROSS PULLED
into the lot of the high-rise elderly-assistance apartments her grandma had resided in for the past seven years. Her grandma was scheduled for a colonoscopy the next day, and Elise had to administer the laxative the doctor had instructed her grandma to take orally, once in the morning and once in the evening. It was time for Grandma's evening dose.

She'd spent the entire day at her new gym, Gotta Flip Gymnastics, where she was preparing for the grand opening in two weeks. Elise felt guilty that she hadn't been spending very much time with her grandma lately, but she was realizing her dream, which was to open a gymnastics center to cater to a predominately black student base. She had worked as a gymnastics instructor for Gym Works, located in the east end of town, and although she'd loved working there, she had been disturbed that she touched the lives of so few black children. She loved the kids she worked with and gave them her all as an instructor, but she longed to have a place filled with beautiful, young, smiling black faces wanting to learn everything they could about the art of gymnastics.