I Saw Your Profile (11 page)

“I don’t know if I want to get married again. I know I want
to be in a monogamous, committed relationship. I just don’t know if that
necessarily means marriage.”

“I’m sorry. I guess I just assumed it was divorce,” he
said, stroking her arm. “There’s so much of that going around. His death must
have been hard on you and your children.”

“That’s okay. I’m pretty young to be a widow so most people
assume that. It was hard on us, but it gets easier with time.”

“You haven’t been serious with anyone since he passed?”

“No. Most of the guys I’ve met lack ambition, goals and
drive. I want more than that and I won’t settle. Life is too short.”

“What do you want? What are your goals?”

“I want a lot of things. Most importantly, I want my
children to be healthy and happy. For myself, I want to travel the world, meet
new and exciting people and get to the top of my field.”

“What’s the top?”

“Owning my own business
–
a publishing house, a newspaper, or a magazine
–
I haven’t decided. I do know that I want to call the shots.
I want to be the boss.”

“Well, as an entrepreneur myself, I can tell you there is
nothing like being your own boss. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. You work
harder, but the rewards are well worth it.”

“I’m sure.”

It was their turn to get into the club. Arianna reached
inside her purse for her driver’s license. He got his from his wallet.

 
The bouncer
gave them a cursory look and handed them back. They walked inside.

Sweat was pouring off the walls and the haze of cigarette
smoke was so thick they could barely see a foot in front of them.

Arianna coughed. “Now, I remember why it’s been so long
since I went out.”

“Cigarette smoke bothers you, too?”

“It’s disgusting,” she yelled, trying to be heard above P.
Diddy’s “I Need a Girl.”

“Well, don’t worry. We won’t be here long. We’ll leave as
soon as it becomes too much for either of us to take.”

They walked to the back of the club. He was holding her
hand, guiding her through the crowd. They found an empty spot on the wall near
the DJ booth.

They looked around the room. It was definitely not their
scene. A heavy set, dark-skinned woman wearing a blonde weave, green contacts,
and a tight, denim short set walked by. The heels on her black platform boots
were so high she could barely walk. She was braless, and her stretch-marked
breasts were fighting a losing battle with gravity, peeking from the sides and
drooping from the front of her halter.

They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Arianna could barely contain herself. “Can you say GHET-TO
fabulous?”

Mr. Good Body rolled his eyes. “There are men - I’m
sorry
 
- BOYS
–
in here who actually think that is attractive.”

“Do you?”

“Do I look like a boy to you?”

“No. You look like a full grown man.”

“That I am. And my definition of sexy is standing before
me. I am staring sexy right in the eyes.”

 
“Good answer.”

He pulled her close, bent down, slid his finger under her
chin and gently pulled her face toward his.
                                                        

“May I kiss you?”

“Here in public?”

“I have nothing to hide.”

“Then kiss me.”

He covered her mouth with his lips and their tongues danced
for several minutes before Arianna decided the heat between them was too high.

She pulled away from his embrace. “Let’s move this to the
dance floor.”

“You don’t like kissing me?”

“I like it a little too much. Besides we came here to
dance.”

“Your wish is my command.”

She watched Mr. Good Body groove to the music, wondering if
he could replicate those moves in the bedroom. She would wait to find out,
though, not wanting to go out like that on the first date, though technically
they’d known each other longer.

They danced themselves sweaty, drinking apple martinis
between songs. Arianna had a buzz by the time they left the club after last
call.

Mr. Good Body walked her to her car, and then joined her
inside. Not wanting the date to end, they listened to the CDs in Arianna’s car,
laughed and talked until the sun came up.

“Drive back safely, dear,” Mr. Good Body said, kissing her
on the cheek. “I want to make sure we have the chance to see each other again.”

Chapter Eleven

A
watched phone never rings, yet Janelle couldn’t move from
the white cordless on the end table or the silver cell phone next to it. Her
new man had promised to drive down for the weekend, but never showed up and
never called.

They’d
been seeing each other for months, taking turns traveling up and down
Interstate Ninety-Five.

When she
drove up to see him, they always stayed at the Fairfield Inn in Beltsville; a
few miles from the D.C. suburb where he told her he lived.

 
He showed her his place once. She’d seen
pictures of his sister, but none of the mother and brother he said had moved in
with him, preventing them from having privacy at his place.

Janelle
paced the floor of her condo,
decorated in a tropical
theme, a tribute to her Jamaican roots.

She
walked to the window and pulled back the turquoise blinds. She felt empty
inside and wanted someone to fill the void. Staring at the white sky, she
slipped into a fantasy, imagining a smiling man appearing at her door, taking
her in his arms and making her loneliness a faded memory. His features were
indistinct. He could have been the father she didn’t know or the man she had
fallen in love with. At that moment, either would do.

Her
walnut hued face was wet with tears. She plunked down on the dark green leather
sofa and hugged a canvas pillow with an orchid design to her chest.

She
looked at the bamboo-framed picture of her and her new love resting on a wicker
coffee table. They were on the merry-go-round at King’s Dominion, an amusement
park about twenty miles north of Richmond. The picture was a moment frozen in
time reluctantly captured by Vanessa when she and her boyfriend joined Chauncey
and Janelle on a double date.

She
picked up the picture and ran her fingers along the edges of the frame
remembering that day. There had to be more days like that in store. New
memories to capture.

She
grabbed the phone and dialed his cell.

“I am
either with a client or otherwise occupied. Please leave the pertinent details
and I will return your call at my earliest convenient juncture.”

It was
the tenth time she’d heard the message that weekend. She slammed the phone
down.

God, I hate his damn voice mail. His earliest
convenient juncture!

Janelle
knew Chauncey’s clients were impressed by his British accent and formal
language, but she hated it. She liked that he spoke in his native Bajan when he
was in her company, though his accent was slight, except when he was angry.

She felt
special, as if she had a part of him no one else shared.

She
picked up the receiver again, this time calling her daughter, Yasmin, in
Atlanta, to pass time. Yasmin and Devon, her son, were the two things she
believed she got right. Yasmin was a paralegal studying to be a lawyer. Devon was
a senior at Chapel Hill.

Janelle
moved from Norfolk to Richmond after her divorce. Norfolk held too many bad
memories. She and Alvin had moved there when he was transferred to the naval
base.

Surely,
Chauncey was not like Alvin. He was too loving, too gentle. He’d never treat
her like a doormat, the way Alvin used to. He had to have a good reason for
standing her up. Had he been hurt?

She
dialed his cell number again. This time he answered.

He said
he’d been locked up for the weekend by Virginia’s Finest for speeding and an
outstanding warrant.

“Baby,
why didn’t you call me to bail you out?”

“I was
in Northern Virginia and I didn’t want to ask you to drive all this way.”

“Why did
you have a warrant?”

“I had a
speeding ticket in New York that I forgot to pay. Thanks to all this damn
technology, all the states are hooked up to each other. I’m sorry I couldn’t
get in touch with you, sweetie.”

“Why did
you have to stay the whole weekend? Couldn’t you just bail yourself out?”

“No. I
don’t live in Virginia and I’m a black man so they figured I wouldn’t come back
for my court date. They left me here all weekend so I could go before the judge
today. I paid the ticket and court costs and he let me go.”

“Good.
When are we going to see each other again?”

“Can’t
say. Things are really bad right now. I went to put gas in my truck and my
check card didn’t work. My account’s overdrawn because one of my client’s
checks bounced. She only pays every three months so it was almost two thousand
dollars. The checks I wrote to pay my condo fees and other bills are going to
bounce. I’ll need a few weeks to catch up.”

“Damn,
baby. What are you going to do?”

“I’ve
got my legal beagle working on the case and he’s pretty sharp. In the meantime,
I’m going to see if I can borrow some money to stay afloat.”

“How
much do you need? I could probably swing a couple hundred.”

“That’s
sweet. I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be all right.”

 
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll come up next
weekend and I’ll spring for the hotel, okay? I really want to see you.”

“I want
to see you too. I miss you.”

Janelle
paid for her trip to Maryland the following weekend and many more after that.

She
wasn’t rich, but she had enough to support herself, and to give to Devon and
Yasmin when they needed help.

She and
Alvin sold their house as part of the divorce settlement and she used her share
as a down payment to buy the condo. She also got alimony and a share of Alvin’s
military pension.

But as
time went on, more and more of her money was being spent on her new man.

Whenever
he recovered from one setback, there always seemed to be another – a car
note, car insurance, a utility bill. She even had to send him gas money to
drive down to see her.

He
always promised to make it up to her.

“Most
women would have left me by now, Janelle. I know things have been tough, but
when I get on my feet, I promise things will be different. I’m going to be the
one helping you. And I’m going to make you my lady officially.”

“Is that
a proposal?”

“It’s a
promise that I’ll propose when I have more to offer you. I can’t believe I
finally found a woman like you, someone who’s got my back and who will go the
distance with me.”

She had
his back, his front and his middle.

 
When Janelle’s bank account began showing
signs of wear and tear, Vanessa started asking questions.

“Girl,
why are you always broke all of a sudden?”

Janelle
was doing Vanessa’s hair and had declined her invitation to go shopping because
she was low in the pockets.

 
“You never used to sing the blues about
money. Maybe you should stop rippin and runnin up the highway all the time to
see that nigga and make him come down here to see you.”

“He does
drive down to see me.”

“Not as
much as you chase after his ass. Why do you bother with these young bruthas
anyway? You need to get yourself an older man. They know how to treat women.”

“Did you
forget? Alvin was seven years older than me. Plus, I’m forty-four and he’s
thirty-eight. That’s only a six-year difference. It’s not like I’m robbing the
cradle and he’s not exactly young.”

“He
ain’t exactly stable either, is he? You ain’t broke just from gassin up your
car and drivin up there to get laid. You doin a whole lot more for that man
than you admit.”

“Who are
you? My accountant? You don’t know what the hell I do with my money.”

“I got a
pretty damn good idea. A woman don’t go from bein fine money wise to the poor
house in a matter of months for no reason. You got a job
and
you get
alimony. You ain’t got no drug or gambling problem. At least not that I know
of. So that only leaves one thing. A triflin, goodfonuthin type of brutha.”

Janelle
handed Vanessa a mirror to check out her do. “Go to hell. Here, I’m finished.”

Vanessa
fluffed her thick, curly mane and laughed.

“Thanks,
it looks nice. You know, you always sendin me to hell when I tell you the
truth.”

She
stood up and handed Janelle thirty dollars. “But that’s okay. You gonna wake up
sooner or later. And I’ll be there for you like I always am. Your man is the
one who’s gonna be makin hell his home. I just hope you don’t go bankrupt before
he gets there.”

Vanessa
kissed her friend. “See you next week. Same time. Same place.”