Preseason Love (10 page)

My emotions stayed unpredictable. Dev was constantly back and forth between our place and Mel's, but she never questioned my employment situation. By the time I hit the three-month mark of unemployment, self-help and empowerment books had become a staple in my daily routine. However, that didn't stop people from offering their advice and sending me crap jobs to apply for. That got old really quick. Didn't they understand that I did not ask them for their help? Every single person that I knew in California asked when and if I planned on moving back. It was as if they thought that moving would be the answer to all of my problems.
Hell no I won't go!
That's what I wanted to say, but I bit my tongue and let them know that I planned to stick it out. I wasn't a quitter.

Kari picked up on the negative energy that I was giving off and he requested that I meet him in the city. I decided to get super cute for our date, even though I had no clue what we were doing. Kari was guaranteed to show up looking fly, so I had to stay on point. He had a very mature,
GQ
style and I couldn't have women giving my date the eye while I sat there looking like a sack of rotten potatoes. I may have been unemployed with my life in shambles, but that didn't mean that I had to look that way when I went out.

Spring was in the air, so I slipped on a pastel-colored spaghetti strap dress that I had been longing to wear. It being my first
spring in the city and a beautiful day, I arrived a bit early for my date and strolled around by myself. Since my trips to the city had become less frequent due to budget cuts, I missed roaming around. Groups of friends and couples alike were frolicking around and enjoying libations at restaurants with sidewalk seating, people were biking through the streets, and there were fewer layers of clothing on everyone. Manhattan was alive with free and happy inhabitants.

Time slipped away from me as I wandered the streets daydreaming. I put a-pep-in-my-step and headed crosstown on Forty-second to meet Kari. He wasn't the type to get pissed about me being a little late, but I did not want to be rude. I zigzagged through the crowded streets as fast as I could. Having already changed into my heels, my pace was slightly limited, but my dress flowed with every movement making it easier to maneuver swiftly.

In finding your way about the city, you get used to physical contact with strangers. People were always bumping into you or sideswiping you as you walked down the street, but when I felt what seemed like a hand actually grabbing at my butt, I almost lost it.
This is so out of line!
Before I could rationalize how to react, my anger turned me around with my fist in motion. Kari jumped back to avoid my first swing and he chuckled a little as I stumbled. Luckily, he caught me. I felt slightly foolish.

I gave him a smack on the chest for scaring the crap out of me, then we leaned in for a hug and his athletic build consumed me. It felt so right to be in Kari's arms. He kissed me on the cheek and we strolled up the street hand-in-hand. He told me that we were headed to the Dream hotel, which was in midtown. Getting there would be a bit of a hike in my heels—twelve blocks—but it was spring and they were wedges so I would survive. On a nice day it
was kind of romantic to walk with your man friend through the city streets looking at the sights and letting the sounds be your soundtrack to life.

This was my first time going to the Dream, but I'd heard great things about the rooftop ambiance. I came to appreciate hanging out with a man who took the time to explore new locations with me or introduce me to those that he was familiar with. Kari was thoughtful in that way.

When we walked into the hotel lobby, it was stunning. Everything about the place was sexy or maybe I felt sexy.

Kari took my hand in his and we headed to the rooftop. The scene wasn't too crazy, so we snagged a table nestled in a corner. While I got situated, Kari ordered drinks at the bar. From across the room, I watched a woman with jet-black hair down to her butt and legs like a goddess saunter over to Kari. She tried to spark up a conversation. From what I could tell he politely responded to her and proceeded to collect the drinks that he ordered. As he walked back toward our table, I had a silly smirk on my face. Clearly, he realized that I saw the exchange. Kari was very respectful when it came to our situation, so I never worried about his eyes wandering or him being too flirty with other women in my presence. This was a dramatic difference from my previous situation with Ivan.

After we finished our drinks on the rooftop, we decided to head to SoHo to shoot pool. I liked shooting pool with a man whom I was attracted to. The game allowed for a woman to be a bit seductive which could lead into some sassy flirting and serious sexual foreplay. If you were planning on going home together, the stage was then set for a nightcap full of fuckery and fun. On our way downtown, I may have talked up my pool game a tad bit, but
as it turned out, I only won one out of four games so my shit-talking had to be kept to a minimum.

The pool hall was blasting light-rock songs from a jukebox on the far wall, however, that didn't prevent me from hearing my purse vibrating on the stool to my left. I reached in to grab my phone. When I saw the name on the screen, a rush of nerves filled my stomach. Telling Kari briefly that I would be back, I slipped away to the restroom.

Once inside the small cramped space, I held the phone in my hand staring at it with disbelief. Ivan had impeccable timing. He didn't leave a message. I called back.

“Scottie, I'm so glad that you called me back.”

“What's up, Ivan? Why are you calling?”

“Look, I won't bullshit around. I want you back.”

The sounds of the music rumbling in the distant background invaded my mind. I couldn't comprehend what was being said on the other end of the phone. I had a moment of disarray.

“This, this is not a good time for me. I'll call you back.” I hung up my cell phone before Ivan could respond. I looked in the mirror covered with graffiti to try and compose myself. I couldn't let him continue to manipulate my world. I was no longer within his grasp and I had moved on.

When I came back from the restroom, Kari was sitting on a bar stool and he signaled for me to come to him. I was smitten with his sexy aura. He still gave me butterflies. I sauntered over to my handsome date and when I got close enough, he lightly grabbed my wrist and pulled me in to him. I was standing between his legs. I could feel my knees becoming a little weak and shaky. We were eye level with each other. He grabbed my waist and pulled me in for a passionate kiss in the middle of the pool hall. His breath was
giving me hints of spearmint and his lips, soft and sweet to the taste.

“You look really sexy tonight,” Kari confessed after our kiss.

I blushed. “Thank you, babe,” I responded in my sweetest I-like-you tone.

“You know that I really like you, and that you're special to me, right?” Kari said.

Generally I wasn't good with expressing my feelings or talking about them. I was one of the most talkative people ever. But when it came to topics of the heart, I would get lockjaw and my lips would clamp shut. That had always been a challenge for me, but I had been working on doing better. Writing was my thing. I could pen my feelings via text, email or even old-fashioned pen and paper with minimal effort. That's probably why Aaliyah's song “4 Page Letter” spoke to my heart. In any case, I saw this as my opportunity to try to step it up.

I worked up a nice big smile to mask my trepidation and went for it. “I know, Kari, and you're special to me too. I really enjoy the time that we spend together and how supportive you've been throughout everything.”

Kari smiled like a Cheshire cat and kissed me.

“I realize how hard it is for you to express your feelings sometimes, so thank you,” Kari said. “Look at my baby growing up.”

Moments like that endeared me to him. He made it easier to open up because I felt the sincerity in his words and actions.

“There's one more thing that I want to say,” Kari declared, appearing more serious now.

My heart started to race. I had no clue what he planned to say, but the whole scene was now feeling a little too dramatic for me to remain calm.

“Okay,” I responded.

“I want to see you and only you from now on,” Kari announced, with a look that was now as serious as a Catholic priest at confession. “We have only been casually dating up until now. But you are the only one that I think about, dream about, and crave. You are the only person I want to spend time with every day.”

All that I could manage to utter was, “Wow.”

“So what do you think? Can it be me and you? You and I? Us?” Kari asked. “Can we agree to only kick it with each other?”

I was happy with where the conversation was going. I liked Kari a lot, but I was also a little shocked at the timing.

“Okay,” I said after a moment. “Me and you. I like it.”

•  •  •

Prior to my move from Los Angeles, I had been growing out my hair. Ivan would fawn over women with long hair so he begged me to let my hair grow. My grandmother always teased that I had hair like Pop Malveaux, dark and beautiful. I liked my natural soft curl pattern, and my hair was manageable so I didn't mind the length. However, after everything that had transpired since my move to New York, I needed a change. I got a pair of scissors from the hall closet and I walked into my bathroom and started snipping. My hair had grown well past my shoulders, essentially to the middle of my back. So once I made the first cut, I had to commit. I started cutting more and more chunks, and big, brown curls fell all over my shoulders and covered the bathroom floor. Normally, a neat freak, I felt like fuck it, I'm doing me and I love it! It was freedom.

Once I finished trimming a little more on the sides, I swept up all of the hair from the floor and hopped in the shower to finish
washing my troubles away, along with any stray hairs. I felt so light and free. I had never in life had hair that was less than seven inches long. It was a foreign feeling yet just what I needed. It was springtime and this was my way of spring cleaning and refreshing my spirit. I hoped that my new boyfriend would like my new Halle Berry-inspired look.

I
received an unexpected call to go back to work for one night. One of my PR friends from Los Angeles needed me to cover her client, Romero, at a Jay-Z and Diddy party. Naturally, I jumped at the chance.

I arrived at the party early to check out the scene and tackle any unforeseen circumstances. Romero was a Brazilian model and pretty low-key. I was relieved that I would not have to deal with a crazy entourage. I called his assistant to make sure that they were en route and on schedule. As I figured, they were not. People think that the role of a publicist is expensive lifestyles and glamorous friends. No, that's the role of the star or celebrity. One aspect of my job, especially when dealing with “talent,” was usually glorified babysitting.

The red carpet was set to shut down in less than ten minutes. Romero's tardiness had me on edge. The plan for having him attend the party was branding and building his profile as a man on the scene. He needed to be photographed partying at the right places with the right people.

I introduced myself to the frumpy young lady in all black running the carpet. I asked if Jay-Z and Diddy had arrived. Sometimes it was like a crap shot with girls like her. I towered over her
with my four-inch, metallic heels asking questions on her red carpet. She could have easily thrown shade and not offered any assistance. Lucky for me, she was cool and dished that she was expecting the music moguls at any moment.

Everyone knew that Jay-Z did not really do a lot of media, so I wasn't expecting him to hang out on the carpet long. Best-case scenario, Romero would arrive around the same time as Jay and Diddy, which would make for the perfect photo opportunity. The photo would get picked up by all of the urban media and blogs, and that would make the night a success.

If only things could always work out in real life how they played out in my mind. Of course this dude showed up after the red carpet was finished and well after Diddy and Jay's arrival, which was so quick that if you blinked, you would have missed it. I wanted to pop Romero upside his gorgeous head, but he was the client and not my little brother. I had to explain to him that since he'd arrived late, we had missed an opportunity.

The scene inside was a combination of industry executives, music heads, and party people in their flyest weekday wear. Once we entered the main level, I spotted the VIP section.

“Look to the left,” I instructed Romero. “That's the VIP area and that's where you are going.”

He responded with a simple, “Okay, cool.”

Romero was one of the sweetest guys ever who had a very genuine sort of nerdy quality about him. He was relatively easy to work with, too. It seemed like he'd fallen into modeling by accident. His true passion was acting and he planned to use modeling as his segue.

We walked over to the VIP entrance and I made sure that he got in and got settled before I dipped off so as not to be a lurker. I wanted him to do his thing and enjoy himself.

His assistant, on the other hand—who I took to calling Slick—must have found himself taking a liking to me because he managed to track me down in the party. At first I thought that they needed something work-related, but I quickly realized that Slick wanted to be in my face.

He was cute, but I already knew the type. He was the childhood best friend slash assistant who probably took himself way more seriously than his boy who actually made crazy sums of money from his natural talent. However, since he was relatively handsome, with decent conversation, he used that to get the ladies.
Well, not today, not tonight, and surely not with me.
At some point he realized that I wasn't feeling his game as he wandered off to find some unsuspecting breezy.