Drama 99 FM (12 page)

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Authors: Janine A. Morris

BOOK: Drama 99 FM
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Chapter 19
T
he restaurant was crowded by the time they got there, and if they hadn't known that most restaurants in the city were going to be pretty filled that night, they would have left. Naomi was out to dinner with Severio from accounting. They had spoken on and off for months, but after she had told him a few days prior that she was homesick, he told her he wanted to take her to this Texas barbecue place; without much hesitation at all, she obliged. She didn't know if it was supposed to be a date or if it was just a friendly night out, but she was interested in some company.
Severio was cute. He was about five-eight and brown skinned with a goatee and light brown eyes. He was a bit stocky but wasn't too built up, had nice skin, and had a beautiful smile—not that she was checking him out. She preferred not to consider it a date because she knew that technically speaking that would make her a cheater—because Charles was still supposed to be her loving boyfriend back home. They now barely spoke about much when they did get a chance to speak, and although she still missed him, she was definitely adapting to being without him. So even if just for the friendship, Naomi was glad that Severio had invited her out.
The waiter sat them down in the back in one of those tables a lot of people probably complain about. It wasn't as though the bathroom door swung open to hit them, but they were a bit too close to the kitchen and all the hustle and bustle. Even if they wanted to make a big deal about it, they knew they would end up having to wait quite a while for another table and would only hurt themselves, so they happily sat down and stayed put.
“I know these seats suck, but when you get your plate, you will feel like you're back home and will forget about where you're sitting anyway,” he said.
“These seats beat sitting at home another night watching television,” she said. “And I don't have DVR, so by the time I get home, there's nothing good to watch on television.”
“So, you really just stay home all the time? I would think after moving here from Texas you would be like a tourist going to all the New York museums and crap,” he said.
“I went to MOMA when I first got here, but once this job got ahold of me, I haven't been able to enjoy the city as much.”
“You really need to take some more time to do it. This city really has a lot of great things to offer, and you live right here in Harlem, which is a great place to live.”
“Yeah, that's what I hear. How Harlem is on the rise and there are so many nice spots and events to attend.”
“So why don't you go?” he asked.
“I don't know—no one to go with usually.”
“A true city girl can roll dolo,” he said.
“Dolo?” she said, scrunching up her nose at him.
“Alone, by yourself—you don't need anyone but your damn self to go out and have a good time,” he said.
“Wow, I am definitely not there yet,” she said.
“I don't know why. If you're home alone, why can't you go out alone?”
“I don't know. Something about being in public around a bunch of people hanging out with their friends or boyfriends or someone, and I'm just there all alone with no one to talk to. You start talking to strangers and eavesdropping on conversations,” she said with a chuckle.
“What's wrong with talking to strangers?” he asked.
“I don't know, I guess I'm just not outgoing enough.”
The waiter walked over dressed in all black. She was five-seven and light skinned with a short reddish-brown haircut like Rihanna. She was a pretty girl, but definitely not Rihanna pretty. Naomi wondered if Severio was thinking of things he would like to do to the waiter. She hated having a pretty waiter or bartender serve her when she was on a date. The young lady began to take their orders. Naomi didn't bother with the salad-ordering routine—she had come to a Texas-style restaurant to enjoy a good old Texas meal. She ordered barbecued chicken and ribs with macaroni and cheese and some potato skins. Her mouth began to water just thinking about the meal to come.
“You're going to eat all that?” Severio asked.
“I sure am,” she said.
He laughed.
“I used to eat my mother's cooking every night back home. This is nothing for me,” Naomi added.
“OK, well, I'm glad I took you here then,” he said.
“So you are single, Mr. Severio?” she asked.
He seemed shocked at her bold and out-of-the-blue question.
“Actually I'm not, but my girlfriend and I are kind of on a break of sorts right now,” he said, looking down at his fingers fiddling with the cornbread.
“A break or a breakup?” she asked.
“I don't even know myself—it's her thing. It's been close to two months, and I am real unsure as to what is going on with things . . . and with her.”
Naomi wanted to ask more questions, but she was beginning to sense that this was a pretty soft spot for him, and she didn't want to pry if he wasn't comfortable talking about it.
“Well, I am in a similar situation,” she said.
He looked up at her and tilted his head with a curious expression.
“Yeah, he lives in Texas, and we said we were going to try to do things long distance, but I don't think it's working out so well.”
“Why do you think that?”
“In the beginning we talked and shared so much that it was like obvious we missed each other like crazy. Now we go days at a time without speaking, and when we are on the phone, we have, like, nothing to say. It just seems like the love is fading and there is no more interest there. Maybe the distance is getting to us,” she said.
“You don't seem all that hurt by it. Maybe you guys are just growing apart,” he said.
Just 'cause I'm not pouting like you were?
she thought. She pondered what he'd said and realized their adult lives may have made them different people or changed their priorities.
“I guess you're right,” she said. “I did love him a lot—I almost didn't move here because of him. Now it's like I still love him, but I don't feel the same way I did.”
“Does he know this?”
Naomi looked down at her plate. “No, he doesn't.” “Maybe you need to talk to him,” he said.
“Yeah, maybe I do,” she said.
Severio could see that Naomi was envisioning a clip of what she would say or what her boyfriend would say—from the look on her face, she had mentally left the table for a quick second. He wasn't sure what to say and was thankful when the waiter approached with their meals.
“Yummy, yummy,” he said.
“Yes, no more talking now. It's time to eat,” Naomi said with a smile.
She was kidding, and he knew that, but yet for the first few minutes of eating, they spoke only a few words. Naomi took this time to think if and when she was going to speak to Charles and what she would say. She knew things weren't what they should be, and if she didn't speak about it, there was a strong chance it would only get worse. She didn't want to end up seeking elsewhere for a man and have to cope with the guilt of cheating on Charles. She knew she had to figure something out . . . soon.
Chapter 20
I
t was a windy day—the kind of wind you can hear whirling through city buildings. Madison was walking down Forty-Second Street; she had hopped in a cab and asked to be dropped off on Forty-Second and Seventh. She wanted to spend her lunch hour shopping for a couple things for her weekend getaway to the Hamptons. She had left the station more than an hour ago, but because she was the boss of her department, and the general manager was out sick, she felt no rush to get back. She had spent the last twenty minutes in Sephora trying on makeup and new lip glosses when she realized she could be in there for hours if she didn't stop, so she headed to the register.
She bought two lip glosses and a nail polish and headed back onto the busy street. She walked for two blocks, pushing against the wind, heading toward the Victoria's Secret. She made her way through the crowds and began to hope that the store wasn't crowded the way Sephora had been. She had one more block to walk and was walking closer to the curb where less people were walking. Madison was so focused she didn't even notice the black Suburban rolling alongside her. She heard a horn a few feet away from her and jumped back, away from the curb. She looked back, trying to see why the horn was so loud and close to her, when she saw the black Suburban with tinted windows. Madison rolled her eyes and continued walking.
The Suburban pulled up, and the driver's-side window rolled down.
“Do you need a lift?” the driver said.
“No, I am fine,” Madison replied.
“You sure?”
“I am sure. Can you drive along? You are kind of close to me,” Madison said as she scurried along the curb.
There was a mass of people walking beside her, and she didn't care to weave her way through the crowd to get to the other side of the sidewalk. She preferred that this man move along so she could walk in peace.
“You are so stuck up,” Madison heard a voice say.
She looked back and saw that the back window to the Suburban was rolled halfway down. She tried to see into the window but couldn't. Instead of trying to see more, she just rolled her eyes once again and continued walking.
“Damn, you are stuck up. Just because you run the biggest radio station in the country doesn't mean you have to act like that,” the voice said.
Madison slowed down a bit to see who was saying this, though the voice was familiar enough. The truck had been following her very slowly, so Madison slowed down just enough to see in the back window. As she looked in, the window began to lower more, and then she finally saw the guy's face. It was Polytics with a huge grin like he had just succeeded at the best prank of the year.
“You was about to fight me?” he asked.
“No, but I was about to curse you out.”
“I can tell—the look on your face seemed serious.”
“I am not stuck up,” she said, laughing.
Polytics opened the door. He was dressed in some baggy dark blue Rock & Republic jeans with a brown thermal and some brown construction boots. He had on a brown Gucci skully with a thick signature red stripe down the middle and some Tom Ford shades. He was damn sure looking fresh—dressed like a million bucks. Madison had to clear her mind to remember that this little charade with Polytics was only going to get her in big trouble if she didn't stop.
“Get in. Ride with me.”
“How do you know I don't have somewhere to be?”
“I don't know, but I know you can get in for a second.”
Madison looked up the street at Victoria's Secret and figured a ride back to work was worth the change of plans.
“Well, drop me off at the station, then, Mr. Prankster,” she said as she stepped up into the truck.
Polytics scooted over to make room for Madison.
“To the radio station, Cliff,” Polytics told his driver.
Madison assumed that Cliff knew which radio station she worked for. He wasn't the same driver, and Polytics must have told him something for him to know which New York radio station to drive to.
“Where were you headed?” Madison asked.
“I just left the label, and I was about to head back home to chill for a bit.”
“Where do you live?”
“New Jersey,” he replied.
“Oh, OK.”
“You're a city girl, right?”
“No. I live in White Plains. I moved from the city a couple of years ago.”
“Oh, OK. I thought I heard otherwise.”
“You need to update your sources.”
He just laughed and looked out his window. Madison noticed the quiet moment and went along with it. She took out her BlackBerry and began to check her e-mails. When Polytics heard the clicking sound from the buttons, he turned.
“Speaking of, I need the personal numbers. I shouldn't have to go through assistants and my managers to get to you.”
“Why shouldn't you have to?” she asked with a devilish smirk.
“I feel I earned the personal number,” he replied.
Madison didn't even want to get into that conversation, so she just began giving him her number. He pulled out his cell phone to put the number in. Madison gave him just the cell-phone number—not only had he not earned the house phone number, Jamahl was home more often than she was, and she didn't want any more problems.
“So you are going to call me when—during the spare two minutes you get here and there with your busy life?” Madison said after he put his phone back on his hip.
“I was hoping to call you so you can join me through some of my busy life.”
“Through some of your busy life?” she asked.
“Like, come along with me and stuff.”
“Are you crazy? Are you trying to create a tabloid cover story?”
Polytics laughed. “What's wrong with that?”
“Listen, I'm not trying to be a part of your publicity campaign.”
“Calm down, I'm just kidding. We can hang out some without it being a big deal. My peoples protect my private life well; my business rarely pops up in the news.”
“ ‘Rarely'? Didn't I hear somewhere that you were messing with that video girl from your first video?”
“Are you kidding me? That wasn't in the news. She wrote a book and claimed to sleep with everyone. That doesn't count.”
“Well, either way, I'm not trying to be in that mess. I am really starting to think you don't understand how crazy things would get if people thought anything was going on between us.”
“What do you mean?”
“Clarence . . . I program a radio station, and you are an artist. There is an extreme conflict of interest here, and serious claims of payola can be made. I could lose my job.”
“How? We aren't doing anything wrong. What if we really fell in love—that's forbidden?”
Madison looked him dead in his eyes. She was shocked he had used the world
love
. If she was correct, she even thought the driver had looked in his rearview mirror to make sure he'd heard correctly.
“I don't know about falling in love and all that, Clarence, but I am assuming I would lose my job or never have to play another one of your records. Otherwise it will be a conflict of interest.”
“A'ight, so no one will know.”
“There will be nothing to know. What happened between us will have to be kept a secret from everyone, and it can't continue.”
“So we can't hang out anymore?”
“I should never have let this happen,” Madison mumbled to herself.
“What?” Polytics asked.
Madison could hear the strong tone in his voice and the attitude behind it, but she was angry as well.
“You have nothing to lose here, but I have everything to lose. Don't go making this some career move for you and then damage mine.”
She had gotten herself all worked up. She couldn't believe Polytics didn't understand how serious this was.
“Career move? I don't know if you noticed, but my career is just fine. I don't need you or any stunt to enhance my career.”
“You know what I mean—I wasn't trying to play you.”
“Yeah, you were. You think I was just trying to rock with you to get a look out there. I can bag any chick I want—just because you're the PD at Drama doesn't mean you're the best look for me. I was feeling you and figured we could rock some, but I see that's not in our best interest, so no worries.”
Madison was flabbergasted. She couldn't believe he had actually said that much or cared that much. She really had thought this was just about some mischievous sex—she had no idea he had thought more of it. It had been weeks since their romp in her office, and he had only called twice—both times Madison had been out of the office. It wasn't as if he had left urgent messages or sent roses or anything—why would she think a man like him was remotely thinking twice about her? She assumed he had hit it and accomplished his mission.
“I didn't mean it like that. What happened the other day . . . I don't do that. That's not my MO at all, so obviously I was feeling you, too. I just don't want us to get caught up and follow our hormones and not be rational,” Madison said.
The driver turned down the avenue that led to the station; they were only a few minutes away. Madison knew the driver was getting an earful but was trained to mind his business and pretend he wasn't even there. He was doing a great job because Madison did almost forget he was there.
“It's cool, Madison, no hard feelings. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone what happened between us, and I'll figure out another career move.”
“You really are going to run with that, Polytics? I just said I didn't mean it like that.”
“Yup, I hear you. No problem.”
Madison could tell that he was tight. She was a bit flattered, but she was even more surprised that he cared or was that sensitive.
The driver pulled up in front of the station.
“Thanks for the ride, P. It was nice to see you,” she said as she gathered her bags.
“No problem. You, too. I will see you around.”
Madison didn't even bother giving him a hug or kiss; it was obvious that he wasn't messing with her. She got out of the car, thanked the driver, and headed inside her building. She felt strange, emotionally stimulated, like she had just had a fight with her man. She was trying to ignore her thoughts, but she was liking the whole thing—having him feel the way he did, feeling wanted by him, and having the conversation she'd had. She liked having the control, and she liked having his attention. As she rode in the elevator, she realized she really was feeling him, and although she didn't want to admit it, the excitement of it all was a bit too much. She was starting to worry. What had she gotten herself into?

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