Bad as in Good (3 page)

I stared at the phone for a minute. “Do you hear yourself? He
put me out of his car in the middle of the night, no phone, no money, no nothing. I don't care if I cursed his mama out; it doesn't give him the right to put me out his car in the rain.”

“Tariq's not a bad person, Erin. This sounds so unlike him.”

“Well, it
was
him. Tariq Johnson, right? The mixed claims adjuster with Chico DeBarge hair, rich brown eyes, and drives a black Lincoln? That Tariq, right?”

“Yea, girl, that's him.”

“I thought so.” I swallowed the rest of my half-empty bottle, tilted my head back, and rested on my plush bath pillow. I whispered, “I'm so tired of dealing with this nonsense.”

“It was one bad date, Erin…”

“One among hundreds, Loraine.”

“I really think you got a bad dose of Tariq. He's a great guy at work. Everybody at the office loves him.”

“You sound like the dozens of women who still stand behind an abusive man claiming it's the woman's fault. Provoked or not, no man has the right to attack another woman for the hell of it, like it didn't give Tariq the right to throw me out of his car in the middle of a thunderstorm.” I tried to take a deep breath, but breathing wasn't calming me down. “And besides, if he's so great, why has he been single all this time?”

Loraine finally shut up at the fact that she couldn't locate an answer to my brilliantly asked question. She sighed and paused. I tapped on my empty scotch bottle, awaiting her response. Finally, she responded, “Maybe he's been waiting on the right girl.”

“Or maybe he's too busy throwing the right ones out of moving vehicles.”

“Okay, fine. I was merely trying to help. You asked me if I knew anyone; my boss is single and cute. He seemed nice enough to me.”

“Girl, Tariq is many things; nice is not one of them.” After getting out the last of my frustrations, I rubbed the skin between my eyes and licked my lips. I shouldn't be blaming my friend for a service she didn't have to provide me. I couldn't deny that I had gotten on my knees and prayed that the brown-eyed cutie wasn't taken. I tithed extra on Sunday when I prayed that he'd be willing to take me out on a date, too. Now when I attended church, I'd be praying to God that Tariq lost my number. The only problem with that theory was that I still needed to see him one last time to get my wallet back, assuming he didn't steal from me, too. Then, I got an idea. “I know how you can make it up to me.”

“How's that?”

“I left my wallet in his car. You think you could get it from him when you get to work in the morning?”

“I guess.” Loraine's hesitation bothered me. Two seconds ago, she was singing this man's praises, and now she was too apprehensive to pick up my dang wallet. “Hopefully he doesn't try to dodge me in the parking lot when I see him.”

“He better hope I don't see him walking down the street when I'm driving. I'll probably run him over.”

Loraine laughed. “Girl, you are a trip.”

“Whatever, girl. Do me the favor of getting my wallet so I don't ever have to see his stupid face and be charged with vehicular manslaughter, or better yet, homicide.”

“Okay, I'll see what I can do.”

W
hen I got to work, I was counting down the hours until lunch. As soon as the clock hit twelve, I made sure Loraine remembered my wallet. Part of me felt comfortable with the lie that all I cared about was my wallet while a bigger part of me knew that I was anxious to hear how things went with Tariq. Would he apologize for being a jerk and ask to literally kiss the ground I walked on to get back in my good graces? Or would he tell her that he threw my wallet out in the rain, too—three miles after he kicked me out? My good sense was leaning more toward the latter, but a small part of me was itching to be hopeful.

When I finally got Loraine on the phone, I contained my composure. “Did you get my wallet?” My tone was relaxed while I nibbled on my fingernails.

She paused for a second as if she had no clue what I was talking about. Before I got to cursing her out, she said, “Oh, yeah. I spoke to him today, and he was surprisingly nonchalant.”

Was he nonchalant about throwing my belongings out the window or
indifferent about the girl he kicked out of his car? Or did he keep my wallet
in his front seat because he didn't even remember my name two seconds after he drove away?
“What does that mean? What did he say?”

“I thought he was going to bite my head off when I saw him, but
he was still the same nice, sweet Tariq from the office. He even bought me, and the rest of the office, coffee and donuts.” I could hear her smiling through the receiver. I pressed my ear to the phone as I patiently waited for the point in the conversation where she talked about me. “But anyway, he told me he left your wallet at his place and would bring it to you tonight after he gets off work.”

My mouth dropped. My wonderfully executed plan to avoid Lucifer's spawn had backfired. Aside from the fact that he showed no emotion to kicking a beautiful woman like myself out of his car in a storm, he invited himself back to my home without my consent. “Why didn't he leave my wallet in his car? Did he go through it or something?”

“I don't think he did anything like that. Maybe he saw it in his car and brought it inside his place.”

“I guess that makes sense. Did he say anything else?”

“Nope, that was it.”

I went to breathing deeply again while I squeezed my fingers around my cell phone. I should have been upset that I wasted most of my lunch hour talking about how little Tariq talked about me. I knew more about the damn donuts than I did about his sentiments toward me. And now, I was unwillingly prepping myself for an impromptu date with a man I hoped I would never see again. Of course, it wasn't a real date, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't planning to fix my hair, throw on some rouge, and order some takeout to make the house smell like I knew how to cook. I hated feeling pissed and nervous at the same time. Rarely did I ever know which emotion to go from. I sighed as I glanced at my watch. “Okay, Loraine. I'll get to my lunch and talk to you later. Thanks for asking.”

“No problem. Tell me how it goes with Tariq tonight.”

Tariq didn't show that night, but he did have the audacity to show two nights later. No call, no warning. He popped up at my doorstep with my wallet in tote and an obnoxious smile plastered across his face. If he weren't such an asshole, I would've stood there and stared at his hard jawline, straight teeth, and chiseled cheekbones all night. I pictured myself resting on his sculpted chest while he wrapped his toned arms around my waist. In my fantasy, I crept my hand to the top of his head and ran my fingertips along his tidal waves. He stood there looking good enough to make me wanna get over whatever it was I was angry about. My hair was barely combed. I definitely didn't have on any makeup, and the house smelled more like leftover frozen pizza as opposed to “home-cooked” Italian food. By that point, I was more interested in getting my wallet than being nervous about a fake date.

“Weren't you supposed to drop this off like three days ago?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I forgot.”

I put out my hand. Days of worrying about my credit cards being stolen and having to carpool because I had no license, and all this fool had to say for himself was, “I forgot.”

“Gimme my wallet, please.”

“You're not gonna let me in?” Although he asked a question, it sounded more like an accusation. Either that or he was implicitly demanding an invitation into my apartment.

I folded my arms over my chest, shook my head, and rolled my neck. “You have some nerve. You're lucky I didn't call the police and claim that you
stole
my belongings. I had to call and cancel my credit cards so I wouldn't have to worry about you racking up a fortune at my expense.”

His smiled dropped and his easygoing demeanor changed to that of annoyance. Like that, the Tariq from our date showed up.
“You think I'm a thief? Girl, you are crazy. I wasn't planning to steal yo' raggedy credit cards.”

“You've had my wallet for almost a week and made no attempts to give it back. I don't know you. I called you. You never called back. Next thing I know, you're here. You ain't have to come see me. You could've given my wallet to Loraine.”

Tariq dropped his shoulders and flashed his Colgate smile. “Well, maybe I wanted to see yo' pretty face again. You ever thought about that?”

“I ain't know what to think wit' you. I ain't think I'd be walking home in the middle of a thunderstorm on our first date. For alI I know, you could be goin' 'round stealin' people's wallets.”

“That's my fault—”

“Dang right, it's yo' fault! Why the hell should I let you in after the mess you put me through? I ain't deserve that, Tariq.”

He hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath. “You're right. No woman deserves that. I can respect that. A woman who looks out for herself, you gotta respect that. And despite what my actions may have shown, I respect you, Erin.”

I dropped my arms. I didn't want to admit that I was flattered by the compliment, but when a man as fine as Tariq flashed his million-dollar Colgates and the moonlight reflected off his brown eyes, I couldn't help but get flushed. “Are you going to hand me my wallet or not?”

“I was still hoping you'd let me in.”

“That's not gonna happen, Tariq.”

He looked me up and down. I watched him lick his lips as a lion did before attacking his prey. Even though
sexy
didn't ooze from me in my gravy-stained gray sweats and ripped tank top, his glare made me feel as if I was being hunted.

He whispered, “You look good, even in your house clothes. You ain't need to impress me with caked-on makeup, tight dresses, and…” He stopped and glanced at my hair that was tied up in a loose ponytail. “I thought you had on a weave, but I guess that's all you.”

Sliding my hand down the end of my ponytail, I asked, “And even if it was a weave?”

“You still look good,
Erin.”
The way he said my name. Each syllable dripped off his tongue like melting ice cream. We stared at each other and let the awkward pause dance a jig between us. I didn't want to give in, but when he licked his lips again, I imagined him licking mine. “I ain't tryna start any trouble. I know you're not tryna see me, especially after how I treated you. I was going through a lot at work. I got people quitting and calling off work all at the same time. I was stressed, and my car was acting up earlier. I flipped. You're right. A woman as beautiful as you didn't deserve that. I'm here, with your wallet, hopin' you'll accept my apology and let a brotha inside.”

Even though there technically was no apology, I was partly comforted by the halfway attempt at pacifying my emotions. The other part of me was disgusted by how quickly I wanted to forgive him, but there wasn't much I could do. He hovered over me and stared into my eyes. I was putty in his hands and couldn't do much to stop it. I whispered, “Fine, but only for a minute.”

“Of course.”

“He finally dropped off my wallet last night.”

“Finally. I was beginning to get a little worried.”

“So was I.”

“So, how'd it go?”

“Good, I guess.” I ran my fingers through my mid-length tresses. “He dropped it off. I took it. That's it.”

“That's it, huh?”

“That's what I said.” I hated lying to Loraine; I always felt worse when she caught me in my web of lies with nothing to say for myself. “What else did you think would happen?”

“Tariq was late for work this morning.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

Loraine sipped on her white zinfandel while we sat at a local bar during happy hour. I nibbled on my curly fries trying to avoid eye contact. Noticing my uneasiness, she said, “He was probably late because your apartment is a half-hour away from our office.”

I was forced to look up at her then. She stared back at me with her piercing gray eyes accentuated by her fire-engine-red dreads. Her gaze was like a truth serum. Whenever I tried to lie to her, I always avoided her eyes since I couldn't stay dishonest for long. She used that to her advantage. That's how she caught her cheating ex-husband. I often told Loraine the police could use her as their own personal polygraph.

“What does my apartment have to do—”

“Cut the crap, Erin. I know he slept over.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Weren't we supposed to meet for drinks last night?” She searched my face for an answer. I stirred the straw in my Long Island Iced Tea and kept my eyes down. She continued, “You stand me up, and Tariq shows up late. I'm putting two and two together.”

As the bar light illuminated her rosy-brown cheekbones, she tapped her clear-polished fingernails on her full, soup-cooling lips and waited for my response.

I sighed, brushed a few flyaways behind my ear, and pushed my half-eaten curly fry basket to the side. “Okay, so we slept together. He came over, told me how beautiful I looked, apologized, and then invited himself in. Next thing you know, my feet were on his chest with my panties around my ankles.” I closed my eyes and imagined his smile. “He snuck out of my apartment early this morning.”

Loraine giggled and nodded, satisfied with her mystery solved. “Was it good?”

My legs trembled with the thought of Tariq inside of me. I licked my lips. “Girl—”

Loraine laughed and slapped my shoulder. “I ain't mad at you. You plan on seeing him again tonight?”

“I'm here with you, aren't I?”

“Wait…so what's the deal with you two? Are you two together now or what?”