Cheaters (13 page)

“Stephan, we must be twins. That’s the same way I felt about Chuck, the same questions I had been asking myself.”

“I feel for you, Shar.”

“Then what?” she asked. “Toyomi’s my girl, but she does get on my nerves from time to time. It’s different with me because, thank God, I ain’t the one sleeping with her. How long do you think you’ll be able to handle Toyomi’s funky attitude?”

I sat up and said, “It’ll play out. We’ll eventually go our separate ways. That’s the way they all go, I guess.”

Shar quieted and cleared her throat. “Stephan, would you creep around if you found somebody easy to talk to, easier to get along with, somebody you had something more in common with?”

“Why you ask?”

“Stephan, when we went skiing—I shouldn’t say this…”

“Don’t be shy.”

Shar said, “You’re a good-looking man.”

“You’re a beautiful woman too.”

All those winks she had passed on over the months, all that touching when nobody was looking, had come to this. The recipe was on the table. A secret love was in the making.

It felt so wrong, but I felt so human. So carnal. This flesh and blood was craving uncharted flesh and blood.

I wanted her to make the first
real
move. Maybe all of the moves. Maybe open the deal I’d be more than anxious to close.

I felt vibrations, the sounds of somebody coming up my

stairs. Shit. I had a feeling that was Toyomi. Enough time had gone by, so she could be here right about now.

I told Shar to hold on while I checked.

Through my peephole I saw Rebecca, my neighbor. She’s an older sista. Her head was in a scarf. She had a housecoat on. For the sake of good Negro images, I hoped she hadn’t been running around the neighborhood dressed like that. I hadn’t heard her go down the stairs, just felt the vibrations from her tiptoeing back up.

I rushed back to the phone.

Shar said, “Let’s stop acting like nothing is going on between us.”

“Okay,” I said. “Five minutes of honesty. Agreed?”

“I was hoping for more than five minutes.”

“Whatever you need.”

“Stephan, I feel the energy. I see the way you look at me,” she said intensely. “You bump into my breasts, touch me.”

“I see you peeping too.” My voice dropped an octave. “Can’t help but notice how you stare.”

“Really?” She giggled. “Thought I was being discreet.”

“Really.”

“God, Stephan. I never told you, but your cologne turned me on so much, I went out and bought some for my ex-knucklehead.”

“Did you?”

“I’d give anything to see you. Alone. For a while.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“So,” she released some air, some tension, “what’re you going to do about Toyomi?”

“What are you saying?”

“Toyomi’s my girl. I want to see you, but I don’t want any conflict. If this got out, it would mess it up for everybody.”

I agreed with that one hundred percent. “Any suggestions?”

Her voice lowered. “I’m getting wet thinking about you right now, so what do you suggest?”

“Wet?”

She said a bewitching “Like a bowl of soup.”

“What flavor?”

“Come find out.”

My voice was thick, filled with seduction. “Really?”

“I’m not joking.” She moaned, like she was warming her love up. “Come see me. You can come this morning, then leave later on this afternoon. If you park in my garage, no one will ever see your car.”

“I’d love to park my car in your garage.”

“You just don’t know how bad I want you to.”

We shared childish laughs.

I said, “Damn. I feel the same. Hmmm.”

She made a sexy, orgasmic sound, put some melody in the air when she said, “I’ll unplug my phone and be all yours. Then when it’s over, we pretend it never happened.”

“What if it’s better than we think it will be?”

“If it’s half as magical as Toyomi says it is, ‘cause she describes it to the teeth, tells me that you have some serious skills, then, hell, I’ll have to have some more of that wand.”

Flaming butterflies were flying circles in my belly. My hand slid down between my legs, held on to my penis. It was getting stiff, tingling. Leaking the beginning of love juice.

“Stephan, baby, come see me. I got my nerves up to say all of that, so please don’t leave me hanging from a tree of shame.”

I closed my eyes, felt so fucking weak with desire. “When?”

“Mmmmmmmm. What’s good for you?”

“I’m free all day.”

She hummed, then asked, “What about Toyomi?”

“What about her?”

“Would you feel guilty making love to me?”

“Does it matter?”

“I mean, if you love her, I don’t want to, you know.”

“I don’t love her.”

“Mmmmmmmm. It’s almost ten-thirty.”

I said, “I could be there by noon.”

Shar grew quiet like she was considering, contemplating our proposed indiscretion. Already I envisioned her long, soft brown legs wrapped around me, those hips rising and falling while I grooved in and out of her valley, made her shout, her svelte frame clad in something sheer, sinful, and sexy. The thought of us made me warm. So damn warm.

Felt my hardness coming on strong. It was time to shit, shave, shower, and get there before she changed her mind.

Crying came from nowhere.

Wails.

Shrieks like somebody was in the last moments of labor.

I was rattled, damn near shouted, “Shar?”

“Stephan,” another voice bellowed. “You ain’t shit.”

“Toyomi, that you?”

Toyomi snapped, “Who the hell you think it is?”

Shar snapped, “You’re on a three-way, Stephan.”

I moaned a long, drawn-out
“Shit.”

“Toy,” Shar shouted, “I told you, I told you, I told you. This no-good nigga dragging you around—”

“Shar,” I exploded, “shut up! Toyomi, don’t listen—”

“—got your life on hold, waiting for him to come through—”

“Stephan, I don’t believe you said some mess like that—”

“Toyomi, baby, please! Don’t let her play you like that.”

“—and he don’t give a damn about you. And you know if he was trying to screw me, he’s already screwing somebody else.”

“Toyomi, wait. Baby, listen—!”

“Stephan,” Toyomi cried. “I don’t ever want to see your ass again. I’m burning every damn thing you left over here.”

“Toyomi—”

“Quit begging, you stupid bastard,” Shar snapped out. “Toyomi, hang up and I’ll meet you at your town house.”

“Toyomi, baby, hold on, wait, I’m coming over.”

“Now you wanna come over?”

“We need to talk.”

“If I see you, I’m gonna fuck you up fuck you up fuck—”

“Toyomi,” Shar crowed in that adamant tone. “Hang up.
Now.
”

Toyomi shrieked. I think she dropped the phone.

Shar yelled Toyomi’s name. Toyomi didn’t answer.

I hung up, kicked the covers to the floor, fought off the trembles, yanked on some dirty gym clothes, and grabbed my keys. The next thing I knew I was on the 60 freeway, eastward bound.

I tried to gather my thoughts, find a notion of what I should or could or would say when I got there. Think of what to do to keep Toyomi’s roughneck cousins from kicking

my ass into the middle of the next century. Nothing came to mind. But I knew what I’d do if I got my hands on Shar.

Fuel level is low. Fuel level is low.

Mad as hell. Nauseatingly dry heat blew through my window across my face. I was so pissed I had driven for thirty miles without so much as a glance down, didn’t realize I was riding on empty until the warning voice was activated, and then I was so deep in thought I barely heard it. I saw the gas hand was sleeping on the other side of empty, the digital warning said I had five miles to go. Up until then I had been cruising at a little over 90 m.p.h., whipping from lane to lane like a psychotic speed racer, passing everybody on the freeway like they were standing still. I was on a mission.

Fuel level is low. Fuel level is low.

First I saw a Mobil, then a ‘76 sign standing taller than the sky-high palm trees in the distance. I jumped off the freeway in Riverside at the 3rd Street exit, saw an Arco AM PM on my right, and pulled into the lot.

When I stopped, I realized I didn’t have my wallet.

Mustang was on empty.

No cash, not even a dime in my ashtray.

Broke as a joke.

Thirty miles from home. Not enough gas left to get back to Phillips Ranch. Definitely not enough to drive seventy more miles to Palm Springs.

I backed up to two Pacific Bell pay phones under a tree and used my calling card to phone Jake. Had to put a finger in my ear because the traffic blaring from the freeway was as loud as thunder. I could hardly hear myself think. No answer. Same thing with Darnell. I paged both of ‘em and put in 9-1-1, then waited an hour for somebody to call back. Nobody did.

Hot asphalt. Burning oil. The kind of heat that rose and gave the illusion that there were puddles of water in the road.

Heat was screaming at me.

Laughing.

Cursing me.

Fuck Palm Springs. I had to get out of here before I lost my mind.

Samantha was always reliable. I called my dependable one. She wasn’t home. Had to leave a message.

Damn.

I couldn’t remember Brittany’s pager number.

Pops would tell me that it served me right to suffer.

Double damn.

I parked and waited it out in the desert heat.

Thaiheed wanted me to meet him for breakfast. He’d been calling, paging, calling. Getting on my last nerve.

We were hooking up at BC Café in Claremont, ten minutes from my crib. A moms and pops eatery where the food was always slamming, so the place was packed from opening to closing.

Thaiheed was in jean shorts and a tank top, waiting out front along with about thirty other starving people. He pulled his round shades off and did a double-take when he saw me.

He blinked and said, “Chanté?”

“You expecting somebody else?”

“Damn. Look at you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your hair is all bushy…”

I nodded. “Sexy like Lisa Nicole Carson’s do.”

“And it’s lightened…”

“That it is. Good for you, you’re two for two.”

His eyes were all over the new me. Everything had a meaning. The golden color of my hair was that of spring, when things changed. My orange and red sarong was as

radiant as the uncontrollable fire inside me. A tattoo of a butterfly on my shoulder represented my evolution, my breaking out of my cocoon.

His eyes were patrolling all over me. The brother was about to drool on himself. “Your dress—”

“Something wrong with my sarong?”

“It’s kind of revealing.”

“Negative. Not revealing,
uninhibited.
” I put some ethnicity, some real flavor in my words. “Problem wit dat, partner?”

“You seem so different. You’ve changed.”

“Negative. Not changed. I’ve evolved.”

He complimented me on the ten silver bracelets on my left arm. He’d bought them for me down in Tijuana, but I guess he’d bought so many presents, he couldn’t keep track of what he bought for whom.

He said, “You’ve been hard to catch up with.”

I pushed my lips up into an oh-well smile.

Minutes later, I was chowing on blueberry pancakes and home fries when my pager hummed. It was in my purse. Thaiheed didn’t notice. I excused myself to the ladies’ room. It was Craig calling.

I stayed in the shadows and made a quick phone call. I’d been trying to reschedule a meeting for weeks. He said today was the only day he could see me. Bastard was dodging me and still playing games.

I sashayed back to the table, told Thaiheed, “Thanks for the snack.”

“You leaving?”

“I’ll get back to you later.”

He shifted, took a few breaths, looked upset. I didn’t care. I’d been checking his answering machine. He was with Nina on Friday, saw Peaches last night. Thaiheed’s a silly rabbit who needs to learn that tricks are for kids. He never erased his damn messages. His ego probably loved to replay the voices swooning over him.

Thaiheed said in a rush, “Let’s kick it. We haven’t been together in over two weeks.”

I put my hand on my stomach, cringed. “Cramps.”

The waitress put the bill on the table, left the tab in the center, in the neutral zone. I slid the invoice over to Thaiheed. I took out my lipstick and started freshening up

my face. Wondered what Craig’s first reaction would be when he laid his eyes on the new me. Wondered what my reaction would be when I saw him. My nerves were bubbling in the pit of my belly.

Thaiheed asked, “Want to catch a movie or something?”

“Bad cramps. Bad, bad cramps. I’m about to die over here.”

Craig wouldn’t meet me out this way, so I had to make a forty-mile journey out to Mo Val. In the heat. I’d rather head toward Manhattan Beach instead of roasting in Montclair. Hell, by the time I made it to Mo Val, I could be on the sands of Redondo Beach sipping on a tall glass of lemonade.

I needed to go east, but Thaiheed made it to his truck before I could get out of the lot, was riding right behind me, so I had to drive west and fake like I was heading back toward my crib. Damn. That meant I had to take the long way and add an extra ten miles to my trip.

But that gave me time to think.

The world I was living in, well, I could wrap my ass up in a sarong and get tattoos from my arched eyebrows down to my golden toenails, but that wasn’t going to change what was inside me.

Wouldn’t change my heart.

I guess what I’m saying is that it takes a whole lot of energy for me to pretend that I’m somebody else.

Hold on a sec.

I smell something.

About fifty minutes have gone by since I ditched Thaiheed. I’d changed from the 10 to the 57 and was zipping out the 60 freeway, doing eighty. I crossed the 215 freeway, so I wasn’t far from UCR—University of California at Riverside.

Something’s on fire.

My car started shaking and coughing and gagging like an old man with emphysema; it lurched like it was trying to throw up some bad Chinese food. It slowed down, and my stomping on the accelerator and screaming
Go stupid car go
didn’t help, not at all. Everybody and their momma was hopping out of my lane and buzzing by me so fast. Fumes shot from every which-a-way, sounded like everything underneath the hood was falling out.