Bad as in Good (4 page)

“If I knew, I'd tell you. He flattered me, spanked me, made my knees buckle, and kissed my forehead before he left. Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am.”

“Don't say that. He's probably going to call you later.”

“I'm not keeping my hopes up. I'll be thankful for a night well spent.”

Loraine shrugged her shoulders and took another sip of her wine. “He'll call. I know it.”

•  •  •

When I got home that night, Alonzo was going through his mail at his front door. He glanced up and caught me walking up the stairs. He tried not to make eye contact. Feeling guilty, I made sure to catch him before he rushed back inside his apartment. “Hey, Alonzo.”

He met my greeting with a smile and shoved his letters into his back pocket. “Hey, Erin. Glad to speak to you again.” I nodded and pulled out my keys. “I'm sorry if I offended you the other night. I wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

“It's okay. It's not your fault. You caught me after a bad night. I'm sorry for biting your head off.”

Alonzo grinned and stared at me as the uncomfortable silence between us grew. Finding my door key, I stuck it in and waved goodbye. Before shutting the door behind me, he said, “I saw that ad campaign you did for Sunrise Lemonade. The copy was real impressive. Made me wanna drink more lemonade.”

I smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate the compliment.” Not feeling up to prolonging the conversation, I waved goodbye again and shut the door. It was clear that Alonzo wanted more playful banter, but I wanted to continue to pretend that I wasn't waiting for Tariq's phone call in seclusion. I thought about pouring myself another drink, but my next workday started early in the morning. I disrobed and headed for bed, disappointed at the empty bed I planned to lie in once again.

Underneath my comforter, I noticed my cell phone light up. I looked over at the clock. “Midnight. Who's calling me this late?” I reluctantly grabbed my phone after reading the name across the screen. “Hello.”

“You 'sleep?”

I rolled over in bed and stared at my bedroom wall. Hearing Tariq's voice late at night sent shivers up my thigh. I tried to deny the feeling and stick to my principles for the night, at least until the weekend. “I was about to be.”

“Want some company?”

“No, I can handle sleep on my own.”

“We don't have to do too much sleeping.”

I contemplated pressing the End button. “Well, at this hour, that's all I got time for.”

Tariq was quiet for a while. I had a feeling he was racking his brain trying to figure out a way into my pajama pants at twelve in the morning on a work night. Five more seconds of his thinking, and I was pressing the end button for sure. “I miss you, Erin. I wanna make up for a bad first date.”

“You can make it up by giving me a better first date, not a booty call.”

“Booty call? Erin, you are more than some booty call.”

“When you call me at midnight asking to sleep over, you could've fooled me.”

“I been busy all day. Now is the first time I've had to call you. I been thinkin' 'bout you all day, and I was hoping to end my night with you.”

For a dick, Tariq knew the right things to say to get me moist, no matter how corny it sounded. It also might've been my inner thighs thinking on my behalf. My better judgment should've been
enough to get me off the phone and head to bed, but the weakness within me craved to be held at night. As more time went by, I found myself rationalizing his previous actions.
Maybe I did disrespect him for messing with his presets. Being mad over it is petty.
Thinking that it was okay on some level for him to kick me out of his car should have been a sign that this man wasn't the right man for me, but his deep voice sounded so sexy over the phone. “I gotta get up in the morning.”

“Then why spend the time talking over the phone when I could be on my way.”

Ugh, why was he able to do me like this?
“Fine.” I slapped my forehead and frowned. “Don't keep me waiting.”

I
was tired of hearing females play the victim. A year's worth of talks with a man like Damien can have a funny way of warping perception. Not too long ago, I was ducking female-bashing chats with Damien. Ultimately, I welcomed his skewed view on women because it gave me new insight on what was really goin' on. I was raised never to call a woman out of her name, but Damien had me noticing the type of bitches I surrounded myself with.

I was playin' myself to think that Deja would be the type of bitch that I'd marry. I was disgusted with myself for bringing her home to meet my mama. Still, I couldn't let the past dictate my future and with a new frame of mind, shit was going to change. One day when I happened to meet a woman with
Poetic Justice
braids who was struggling to get her briefcase into her truck at the supermarket, I went in for the kill. Ordinarily, I would smooth talk a woman into her phone number. Eventually, that led to a date that would turn into three more dates and ultimately into meaningful sex. On that day, I was more interested in seeing how quickly I could help her put something else in her trunk. I asked her, “Need help?”

She smirked and dropped her shoulders in relief. “Please.”

I grabbed her briefcase and eased it into her car. We smiled at each other. “Need help wit' anything else?”

She shook her head and stared at me as she waited for me to close the deal. Closing her trunk, I stepped away from her and turned as if I planned to walk off. “All right then.”

She held my elbow and then let go once she realized what she had done. “Wait…thank you.”

She ended her gratitude as if she had more to say. “Don't mention it.” Folding my arms across my chest, I licked my lips and eyed her up and down. She had long slender legs, the type of legs I saw walking down runways. When she opened her mouth to speak, I could catch the glint from the metal ball of her tongue ring. I loved how chocolaty smooth her skin complexion looked in the sunlight. With her, all I saw was sex. Long legs that I could wrap around my waist. Chocolate skin melting on my skin. Long thick braids I pictured swaying back and forth. A juicy tongue that wrapped completely around my penis. I needed her body more than she knew.

“Can I thank you over dinner?”

I grinned and dropped my arms to my waist. “Yeah, that sounds cool.” We exchanged numbers and planned for a date I knew would end at my place or hers.

•  •  •

“What did you say your name was again?” I asked the question but I didn't listen for the response. I got distracted by how she scraped the plate with her fork. I sat across from a dark-eyed woman with full lips and thunder thighs, and all I could focus on was how she couldn't pick her utensils up when she ate her food.

When I called Poetic Justice for a date, my dwindling bank account prompted me to request a date at the local bar and grill up the street. The Chili's booth was dark, but I noticed the tension in her face. It bothered me how she tapped her fingernails along the
wood table and avoided eye contact. She played with the skin on the back of her neck. From my distance, I could hear her loudly scratching between her naps while chewing on her lips, sucking off her cheap lipstick. “Mayra.”

“You nervous or something?”

She stared up into my eyes. I couldn't deny how sexy she looked when her dark brown eyes pierced into mine. When her lips spread to speak and I remembered that metal ball hiding in her mouth, I smirked. “I'm fine,” she said. She licked her lips, cleared her throat and then stared down at her plate. “So, what do you do, again?”

“Claims manager. An' you're a cashier, right?”

“Pharmaceutical rep.”

My lack of interest in her life should have struck a chord with her. I expected her to respond to my error with an eye roll, a neck twist, or at least a finger wag, but nothing. She corrected me as if she didn't tell me her occupation three times before we sat down for dinner and one more time after we got our appetizers. I dropped my eyebrows and my shoulders in disappointment. A small part of me wanted my dinner with a side of sass, something to entertain my buildin' thirst for a woman to put a stop to my silent rebellion against all womankind. Instead, she let me forget her name and her occupation, and she smiled when I used sexual innuendos to describe how I planned to finish our first date. “What made you get into that?”

She glanced up at me, then back at her half-eaten steak. “I could never finish pharmacy school.”

“You ever plan on goin' back?”

She shook her head and giggled. “Probably not. I want to, though.”

Even though I could not have cared less about what she did and
who she was, it intrigued me that I found myself sittin' across a chick who couldn't complete the goals she set forth. By the time I got off my train of thoughts, I made up in my mind that I couldn't wife a chick who couldn't complete simple tasks. Although I never made any intention to, I found peace in the truth that she only had the potential to be a sometime chick that I could call when I didn't feel up to going after the more unattainable game that came my way. “You wanna get out of here now?”

“I'm not done with my food.”

I laughed. “You may
want
to finish it, but you know you're not.”

She smiled and stared at me with those pretty brown eyes. “You're right.” She pushed her plate away and rubbed her stomach. “It's almost like you know me already.”

I sipped on my iced tea to keep myself from chuckling. To avoid any more unnecessary conversation, I waved the waiter down to get the check. After I paid for our meal, I put pleasantries aside and asked the question that was on both of our minds. “Your place or mine?”

N
ights with Tariq were something I couldn't describe. I say
nights
because we rarely ever spent our days together. He was gradually turning me into his late-night fix, and I didn't know how to break free from the spell he had over me. He'd call. I'd resist at first, but by the end of our conversation, we were already making plans to see each other's privates before the sun came up.

When he finally invited me over to his place, I actually thought we had made some progress. I had to lie about my place being fumigated for bedbugs to finally get the invitation, but still, I headed over there in my sexiest “freak-me” pumps, accented by my tightest mid-thigh dress. Tariq made the smallest effort to profess his limited feelings toward me, but I felt compelled to gain his deepest affections. I lay awake in bed praying that he was thinking of me too. I soothed myself with the notion that him blowing up my phone at three in the morning was his way of showing me that I truly was on his mind.

When he buzzed me up to his condo, I finger-combed my hair and checked my breath. Confident in how good I looked, I knocked on his door and waited for an answer.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said.

I smirked and walked past him, sure that I did look good. When
he shut the door, he left no room for small talk. He grabbed my waist and pulled me close. Pressing his lips against mine, he lifted me off the ground and straddled my legs around his waist. Though I craved the opportunity for a brief convo where he gushed about how good I looked, my legs trembled as he slipped his tongue between my lips and squeezed my ass cheeks. I felt a warm surge creep up my thigh as we stumbled through his living room and into his bedroom.

When he dropped me onto his plush sheets, I spread my legs and stared into his eyes, hoping he'd stare back. When he did, my lips curled up into a grin as I licked my lips. We must've shared a connection. However, instead of allowing us the time to marinate in the moment, he dropped his jeans and slid off my panties. After grabbing a rubber from his top drawer, he bit his bottom lip and whispered, “You look so good tonight.” We really
did
share a connection. He was feeling me as much as I was feeling him and soon, our late-night visits would turn into daytime lunches and weekend strolls along the shoreline. I got wet thinking about the potential.

•  •  •

When Tariq rolled off me after a bout of marathon lovemaking, I wiped the sweat from my forehead and staggered to the bathroom to wipe myself clean. Tariq lay panting on the bed, trying to catch his breath after the hurting I put on him. After cleaning myself up, I walked back into the bedroom to find Tariq checking his phone. His look of satisfaction and relief had turned to frustration and concern.

I asked, “You okay?”

He didn't respond at first. Before I had the chance to ask him again, he blinked a few times and stared up at me. “You have to go.”

“What? Why?”

“I got a few things to take care of.”

“At four-thirty in the morning?”

He glanced back at his phone, then up at me. Without saying anything else, he grabbed the used condom and ran into the bathroom. Once I heard him flush, I realized that it would be best to start getting dressed. Even though I was curious to know what phone call or message he got to make him start acting so jumpy, I wasn't too naive to think we could finish round three.

I walked into the bathroom to find Tariq searching through his phone and biting his nails. When he realized that I was standing in the doorway watching him, he sneered. “Are you still here?”

“You never told me what your problem is.”

He rushed out of his bathroom and pushed me toward the living room. “You have to go, Erin. I'll call you in the mornin'. I ain't got time to explain anything right now. But—”

His sentence was cut short by a knock at the door. He watched the door, questioning what to do, then glanced back at me. He whispered to himself, “How'd she get in without me buzzin' her up?”