So Different (21 page)

* * *

She didn’t come back over until his food was ready about fifteen minutes later. He saw her coming toward him, plate in hand. She sat it down before him, looked around the restaurant, pulled out a chair, and sat.

“Want something to drink?” he asked.

“I’m working,” she said.

“You are hard to find. You just up and disappeared.”

“Why do you care? You’ve got that girl Taffy, or that other girl.”

“Tiffany,” he said, chuckling, putting catsup on his fries. “She was just a date, nothing more. And what other girl?”

“Oh, so you
do
date, it’s just
me
you don’t want to date.”

“That’s not it at all,” he said before taking a bite of his burger.

“Okay, what is it then?”

“I want to date you,” he said.

“So now you want to date me.”

“I’d like for us to be friends, too,” he said.

“Oh, and now you also want to be my friend,” she said, reaching for a fry, dipping it into the catsup.

“Yes, I do, and it’s not all on me. You never asked for anything more,” he said, watching her lift one eyebrow, giving him a don’t-even-try-that look.

“Saw you at the derby at the last game. You were sitting next to a young, dark-haired woman.”

“Why didn’t you stop by and say hello? You weren’t hiding from me, were you?” he said, laughing at the expression she made. “It was my sister, and don’t try and change the subject. You didn’t ask for anything at first. Hell. I don’t even have your number. You’re the one that started coming to my place. I don’t recall you inviting me to yours. I don’t know if you even have a place. Do you have a place?” She rolled her eyes.

“I only knew you worked here because of Casper. So who’s setting limits? I could like you. I do like you. I want to date you,” he said, smiling. “Honestly, we can do both. I like having you at my apartment, not that I can’t like you in other places,” he added, smiled again.

“You’ve just gotten out of a relationship, and not a small one, but an about-to-be-married one, so I don’t think you’re in the market to get married.”

“So you’re asking to marry me,” he said, laughter in his voice. “I just want to see you again. Why do we have to decide anything more? I like you. You like me. We are good in bed. I want to see you again, for a date. I like being around you, Mariah Scary, as scary as that is, but not if marriage is involved.”

“I’m not looking to get married to you, either,” she said, taking another fry and looking around the room. “We’re too different, anyway.”

“Yes, we are,” he said, “but you’re using it as an excuse, while I enjoy the differences.” He took another bite of his burger and chewed for a while, watching her. “So why are you being difficult? I thought you wanted me to date you. You’ve changed your mind?”

“No,” she said, picking up another fry. “But I’ve been giving it some thought since then, and I find that we would be wasting our time.” She decided to voice her primary concern, the one that she knew ultimately stood in the way of her meaning anything serious to him.

“It’s a waste of time to be friends? We can’t be different and be friends? Since when? Unless there’s more to what you want.”

“No, there’s nothing more. Remember I was the one that asked for friendship while you only wanted Tuesday and Thursdays,” she said and sat quietly for a while, thinking.

“Well, as you can see, I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “It’s the reason why I’m here, why I’ve gone out of my way to find you.”

“You’re this white, privileged, fall-into-the-family-business-so-I don’t-have-to-do anything-on-my-own, private school, upscale-bar-drinking, good-looking man whose women are polished, sleek, and well off. Am I off the mark?” she asked, deciding to try and explain without having to come out and say that she could want even more from him and was searching for a way to protect herself.

“You don’t really know me,” he said.

“I think I do.”

He laughed at her perception of him. “People see what they want to see,” he said between chuckles. “Who are
you
then?”

“I am a thrift-store-shopping, borderline cheap, paying-my-own-way, blue-collar, roller derby, kick-your-ass, local-dive-drinking, beat-up-old-car-driving woman.”

It was quiet. He didn’t say a word, just looked at her like she was a specimen for his examination. “You’ve got your own assumptions.”

“See? Better leave me alone.”

“I could be different. Ever thought of that? You could be wrong about me.”

“Don’t think so,” she said, feeling weird all of a sudden. “I mean your first thoughts when you saw my bruises were of some black girl letting her ass get kicked, remember?” she said defensively, not wanting to own her assumptions. Hers were reasonable, had truth and experience backing them.

“It was not because you’re black. I would have done that to anyone with your bruises. I apologized. Let it go.”

“Right,” she said. She was more than a little scared, searching for something sound to use to keep away from him. “We’re too different. Let’s just let it go at that,” she said, eating another French fry, and then another. He took a bite of his burger, now almost done with it.

“We were suitably matched in the bedroom at my place. That’s a start,” he said a minute later.

“We black girls are good in the bedroom. Everyone knows that. Is that what you’re trying to say? Hey, see you got that whole slept-with-a-black-girl thing out of your system.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You thought it.”

“No, that wasn’t what I was trying to say at all. For someone who was offended by my perceived stereotypes, you’re holding a few of your own.”

“We all do,” she said.

“Yeah, but you’ve got an extra-large chip on yours,” he said.

“Chip,” she said, her lip between her teeth, giving him that sizing-up look.

“Chip,” he said. She shrugged.

“Let’s start over. I’d like to see you again, Mariah. I would like for us to be more than bedmates. I’d like to be your friend, too,” he said, laughing. “See. I added that ‘too’. Don’t overlook that.”

She sat silently, finishing off the last of his fries. She didn’t say a word or two for a second.

“Rebound sex is all I am to you.”

“What do you have to lose, then?”

My heart
, she thought.

“I like you. Can’t that be enough?”

“Maybe,” she replied.

“Have you ever met my mother, my family, anyone besides my dad?”

“No. Why?”

“No reason. Go out with me again? What do you have to lose? It could be fun. Think about it—free meals, free drinks, great sex,” he said, quiet for a second, wiping his mouth with his napkin. He drank the last of his beer and sat back, giving her a speculative look. “You know what? You’re right. To be honest, I was interested in that whole black girl thing from the beginning, and I’ll admit, I’m fascinated by you. I didn’t think black girls did roller derby. I thought you all were only interested in dancing, rapping—you know, dropping like it’s hot, or however you say that, don’t all black girls do that? Hey, are you good at pole dancing?” He watched her swallow his words as her face did all kinds of tricks as she tried to hide her surprise at his remarks. But he had her now, Mrs. Pointer-Outer of Stereotypes.

“Screw you,” she said, laughing now. He chuckled, too. “Okay. Fine, you think you want to date me?” she asked, her chin lifted in challenge. He smiled inwardly. His fiery Mariah was back. He could read all kinds of developments brewing in her mind, and, for once, boring and compliant was nowhere near where he wanted to be.

“I do,” he said, his smile widening as he looked into her eyes. They were shining. She was something, he thought. “Okay. Now I’m not sure. That isn’t a very good look in your eyes,” he said, a smile still on his face.

“You’re either very brave or very stupid, neither of which is good for me. But…” she said, her eyes moving away like she’d made some internal decision and then swinging back to him, “If you think you want me…let’s see. First date this Saturday night. I’ll pick you up at 8 p.m. And I’ll pick the place.”

He looked up, again catching the challenge in her eyes.

“Not scared yet, are you?” she said, the steely-eyed look from the roller track in her eyes as she stood up from her chair. She picked up his plate, napkin, and beer bottle.

“No, not scared. What’s your number?” he asked, his own steel present in the look he returned.

“You don’t need to know. I know where you live. I’ll pick you up.”

“What if I need to cancel?”

“Do you need to cancel?”

“No, but something could come up.”

“If I come by and if you’re not there, I’ll know something came up. Will that work?”

“If you say so.”

“I say so,” she said, smiling wickedly, a calculating look on her face.

“Okay, I’m good, then,” he said, returning her wicked, calculating look with one of his own, not taking his eyes off of her. “I’ll be waiting, so don’t be late.” He pulled out a ten and a five, more than enough to cover a tip. He stood up beside her.

“I won’t,” she said, walking away, swinging her hips from side to side. She looked over her shoulder and caught him watching and smiled her wicked smile. He laughed.

Third week of July

It was Saturday night and Adam sat on the couch, waiting. Mariah had said she’d pick him up at eight. He was actually looking forward to seeing her again. He missed her humor and found himself smiling at their most recent conversation. She thought he was a white guy, and he was, but it wasn’t all he was; just the side that people chose to see. Some that were more aware saw differently, but it was funny how people lump each other into categories.

He’d dressed casually, not sure what to expect tonight, and she hadn’t said specifically. He heard a knock on the door and he went to answer it. He looked through the peephole; a woman stood on the other side of it. She wasn’t Mariah.

He opened it, taking in this massive woman. She was the same height as Casper, dressed in jeans, sneakers, unlaced high-tops, a Lakers basketball jersey over a plain white t-shirt, hair buzzed cut short, large square-shaped diamonds in her ears.

“Can I help you?” he asked. He’d seen her before. She was a teammate of Mariah’s.

“Yep. I’m Good & Plenty,” she said, in a dude-sounding voice.

“And it’s me, Lisa,” he heard as she stepped from behind Good & Plenty’s back, a dwarf in comparison, even in her heels.

“You ready?” she asked, looking him over, checking out his attire and smiling. Her face cleared. He was glad he’d passed her test, whatever it had been.

“Mariah said you were cute. This is the first I’ve seen you up close,” Good & Plenty said, giving him the once-over, clearly interested. “You were always waiting near the door, so I couldn’t be sure. From a distance, you looked cute, but…” She shrugged.

They both turned to see another woman, Sally, climbing his steps, with those tall heels on her feet and a tall attitude, too. She gave him a scowl.

“We knew we shouldn’t have sent you two,” she said, having reached the top step, looking at Lisa.

“We were coming,” Lisa said, looking at G&P. “We were just chatting.”

“You’re not supposed to be chatting. You were supposed to come and get him.”

“Excuse me,” he said, drawing their attention back to him.

“Oh, sorry,” Lisa said, smiling as she turned to face him again. “Mariah is not coming tonight,” she said, watching his face change. “It’s okay,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at Sally before she turned around. “She asked us to take you out instead. Are you okay with that?”

“Who is
us
?” he asked.

“The Brass Knuckles team, plus Casper and Delusional. You’ve seen us all before. You just haven’t gotten to know us. We’ve seen you, though, sitting in the back by the door waiting for Mariah to finish. It’s kind of sweet the way you wait for her. She told us that you want more from her, and we can certainly understand that. She’s a sweet girl underneath, and we love her, too.”

“Get to the point, will you?” Sally said, sighing.

“The point is that we are going to be your dates tonight.”

“Dates? The whole team?” Adam said.

“Yes, me,” Lisa said, turning to Sally, “you know Sally, and now Good & Plenty. I’ll introduce the others to you before we get going.”

“Where are the others?” he asked.

“Down there. In the parking lot,” she said and watched as he walked over to the rail and looked down into the parking lot. Yes there were women hovering around three cars. They waved up to him.

He laughed, ran his hand through his hair. Mariah… a constant source of surprise.

“You up for it?” Lisa asked.

He laughed again. “Sure. Let me get my wallet, keys, lock up, and I’ll meet you all down at the car.”

“Sure. You’re not driving. We are, so don’t worry. We’ll bring you back home unless you turn out to be horrible. In that case we won’t,” she said, laughing. “Just kidding.”

Adam watched as they made their way down the steps, Lisa and Sally’s heels clanking against the metal of the steps. He closed the door and gave in to the laughter that had now bubbled up into his chest, shaking his head as he grabbed his wallet and keys, his laughter subsiding to chuckles as he closed the door, locked it and headed to who knew what.

The women stood around in a small circle as he made his way over to them, all scrunched up talking at once. He’d seen them all, but with the exception of about five, he only recognized faces. He hadn’t met them officially.

“Okay, everyone, this is Adam. We’ve all seen him. Tonight we hope to get to know him and he’ll get to know us. Right, Adam?” Lisa said, placing a hand on his arm.

“Right,” he replied. Did he have a choice? Sure, he always had a choice, but if he wanted to see Mariah, then this was the path she’d offered him, a night with twelve women, in three cars. A first for him, that was for sure.

“Adam, this is Reagan. Don’t know if you remember her or not,” Lisa said. “This is Alyse “Asian Persuasion” Peyton; Miss Creant,; Dee, or “Dirty South;” Becca, “AlterKayShawn;” Jen, “Ms. Nomer;” Disillusioned; and, last, but not least, is Courtney, “Diabloical;” and, of course, you know Casper and Delusional.

“We are going to make three different stops, so you’ll be able to ride in each car and talk to us all, and if all goes well, we’ll give the okay for Mariah.” That wasn’t the truth, but he didn’t need to know that, Lisa thought, slipping her arm through his and walking to the car driven by Sally.

“Dinner first, and, lucky for you and your pocket book, I picked someplace reasonable,” Lisa said.

He smiled a little sickly smile and sat back to see what would happen next.

* * *

Adam sat at the table in between Casper and Lisa. They were seated at a Mexican restaurant he’d never heard of—a local place owned by a mom and pop. It was located in a small house, with two major rooms and a kitchen in the back. His party, since he’d found out he was paying for them, had reserved the larger of the two rooms, filled with five square tables. He of course had had to pull them together, without help, while the ladies stood around giving instructions.

Lime green paint covered the walls in this room. It was a terra cotta red on the walls in the other room. Color was everywhere; there were pieces of pottery, smoothly painted in bright colors, and butterflies, armadillos, cacti, and sombreros appeared on almost every available inch of wall space. About a hundred brightly colored, tiny piñatas hung from the ceiling, he’d calculated.

“So, Adam,” Lisa who was seated by his side, said. “Where are you from?”

“Austin,” he said.

“He’s from Austin,” she repeated loudly for the women sitting at the end of the table, almost shouting.

This was the way it had gone the last twenty minutes while they waited for their food. Lisa was the main spokesperson. She’d asked the questions and he provided the answers. She then shouted his responses to the rest of the table. They placed their order about fifteen minutes ago and were now seated waiting, eating the chips and salsa, and talking, but mostly harassing him.

“Ever been married?” Lisa almost shouted.

“No,” he said, refusing to shout. It was enough he answered more questions than he thought necessary, and he was starting to get the feeling that this was some type of payback.

“So you’ve not been married. Ever been engaged?” she asked and all eyes were now glued to him. He’d bet they already knew the answer to that question.

“Yes,” he said.

“Yes,” Lisa shouted, looking around at them like she was surprised by this information.

“So what happened?” she asked.

“It didn’t work out,” he said.

“So did she dump you or you dump her?” Sally asked, her eyes fixed on him. “And don’t say something mean about the woman. We hate when men place the blame on the woman,” she said, eyeing him like he was something that you found on the heel of your shoe.

“It just didn’t work out,” he said, looking back directly at her. She didn’t care for men, he remembered.

“Could you be more specific?” Reagan asked.

“No, I can’t,” he said, politely he thought, but with a little more firmness in his voice, looking at the whole of them. And that wasn’t an easy feat, as these women didn’t put up with much bullshit, he could tell.

They watched him for a few more seconds, and as confident as he was, it was more than a little weird, even disconcerting, to have twelve women stare back at you. Thankfully the food had arrived.

He sighed. Casper bumped her shoulder into his, giving him an encouraging smile. He smiled back. Actually it resembled a grimace. She laughed.

He ate in silence while they talked amongst themselves, and of course it moved on to discussing the derby and the chances for their team getting to the top.

“The check goes where?” their waitress asked, an hour later, as she looked around their table. Without the slightest bit of hesitation, they pointed to him. He smiled his fake smile, his you’re-not-going-to-get-the-best-of-me smile, and raised his hand.

The waitress had added in her tip, and between the twelve of them and their drinks, it was quite a bit; not more than he could handle, but enough to give him pause.

He pulled out his wallet, and stuck his card into the folder.

“So where to next, ladies?” he said.

“Well, we thought you might like to go skating,” Lisa said.

“Can you skate?” Dee asked from the far end of the table.

“No, but how hard could it be?” he said, and smiled. Wrong answer, he supposed, but he was an athlete and really how hard could it be?

“Okay,” Lisa said, “I’m going to the ladies’ room before we leave,” she said, standing up, in proper form always. Half of the table joined her.

“Thanks, Adam,” they said as he signed the receipt and put his card away.

“Like Mariah, huh?” Good & Plenty said, licking her lips like he was dessert. He smiled, and after another ten minutes they were ready to leave. He was riding in the second car, he was told. He smiled and went in search of the driver, Becca. He didn’t know what to think about getting passed around like this, but he smiled and went with it.

Ten minutes later they were at Parker’s Roller Rink. He hadn’t been there before.

“It’s new, built two years ago,” Becca said as she parked. They made their way around the car to meet up with the other women. The parking lot was full. Apparently more people went roller-skating than he’d have thought.

He and the rest of the women had piled out and were making their way to the front door, most of them with bags in their hand.

“We prefer our own skates,” Lisa said. Ever the tour guide, she’d come around to make sure he was okay.

“I see,” he said, as all eleven of them made their way to the door and over to the desk, where he pulled out his wallet again and paid for them all and his rental skates.

Casper walked over to the desk to pick up shoes with him.

“Size eleven,” he said to the attendant. He thanked him after he’d received his skates, and he and Casper found a bench.

“You’re holding your own,” she said, as she bent over to put on her skates.

“Thank you. I guess you’re my personal cheerleader for the evening,” he said, kicking off his shoes and reaching for a skate.

“Wasn’t what you were expecting, huh?”

“Nope. Not at all,” he said, putting the skates on his feet.

“So you’ve never skated before? Ever?”

“No, but I played baseball in high school had a scholarship to play in college but passed it up. This should be easy,” he said, looking over at her, waiting until she was done with her laces. She stood and so did he, or he tried to stand, but lost his balance, and did that circle-like-windmill thing with his arms, like she’d only seen on cartoons. She ducked before he hit her.

He sat back down. “That’s not as easy as it looks,” he said.

“Some people aren’t coordinated on skates, and it has nothing to do with being coordinated elsewhere,” she said. “You can just watch us, if you want.”

“No, this is test number two. Isn’t that right?” he said and stood again, this time slowly. He made it and was standing, minus the windmills, still as a statue, as the other women skated over to join him and Casper. Sally bumped into him a little and then they all ducked as his arms windmilled again as he tried to regain his balance.

“I don’t think this was a good idea,” Lisa leaned over to whisper to Casper. “Maybe we should head over to the bar instead.”

“Adam, do you need to hold my hand?” Sally asked, a smirk on her lips. He ignored her.

Ten minutes in, Casper and Sally agreed that for the safety of those in attendance they needed to get Adam back into shoes and off anything with wheels. He’d almost sent a little girl and her mother to the hospital. The mother and her sweet little daughter had felt sorry for him. He was so slow, holding on to the wall like it was his link between life or death, swinging the other arm to keep himself balanced.

They had come up behind him, in the midst of his arm extension. The little girl, who was maybe five, had reached for his hand, thinking to help the big nice man who smiled and laughed with her and her mother while they skated. Big mistake. His legs had gone out from under him, and the little girl had somehow ended up on his lap, crying. Her mother had ended up on the floor next to them, screaming in Spanish.

Good & Plenty and Casper had helped him to his feet—they were the strongest of the two and had taken him over to the bench to sit. They sat at his feet and unlaced his skates, putting them away and handed him his shoes.

Forty minutes later they were headed to their final destination, Pinky’s Place, for dancing and drinks. And, of course, it was on his tab. He knew he could have pushed back, but the women seemed to be really into the dating him on Mariah’s behalf. He was now in the third and final car, stuck between Good & Plenty—and there was plenty of her—and Ms. Nomer. Dirty South was driving.

“How long have you known Mariah?” Ms. Nomer asked.

“I met her in January,” he said.

“She’s nice once you get to know her. She can come across as really tough, but she looks out for us. We look out for each other,” she said.

“I can see that.”

“It’s been fun hanging out with you. We don’t mean to be difficult, but Mariah’s our girl.”