Can't Get Enough of Your Love (18 page)

A pause. “She had to go out and get more money, and, um—”

“Did you fuck her?” I am
really
tired. I hardly ever
use the F-word, even in my mind. I might use it with Roger in a few minutes, though ….

“No, girl, I didn't. Shit! Is that what you think?”

I don't answer.

“Girl, she bought every last one of the bags, and that was all. You really think I'd do that to you?”

A glimmer of hope. “I don't know, Karl. I mean, what am I supposed to think when you're gone for a month and take two hours to call me back after I just asked you to call me right back?”

“Isabel can't count, yo. Every time she came back, she had the wrong amount.”

Izzie's persistent, I'll give her that. “And what did she say or do when she kept coming up short?”

“Well, like you said. She was all up on me.”

Sundays with Izzie have just ended. “And do you
swear
that you didn't do anything with her?”

“Girl, I swear on my grandma's grave. You wore me the hell out today.”

Hmm. “And that's the only reason you didn't mess with her?”

“Damn, Peanut. You're my girl. What would I want with someone's grandma when I have you?”

Yes. Good. I can breathe easier. “So, nothing happened?”

“I swear.”

Time to reorganize a bit. “You have enough DVDs to keep you in town for a while?”

“Maybe a day or so.”

Shit. “Well, I'm not going in to work today, and I want to see you before you go back to New York, all right?”

“All right. I'll bring you lunch.”

I smile. “Thank you. Good night.” I click back to Roger, letting my fingers work their way to my thigh. “So, where were we?” “I was … inside you, grabbing your ass.” Good thing I'm not wearing any drawers. “So you were fucking me while two other people were with us?” “Yes.”

He's panting, and so am I. “Who are they?” “It's … it's a man and a woman.” Yeah, I'm getting wet. “What do they look like?” “She's, um, she's … short with long black hair.” He's leaving out a few details. “Is she white?” “Do you want her to be white?” “Sure. Does she have a nice shape?” More panting. “Nice tits, nice firm tits.” Holy shit! Roger is just busting it all out tonight. “What about him?” “He's, uh, he's black.”

Jesus. If he only knew how close to the truth he is. “Yeah? What's he doing?”

“He's … he's kissing the back of your neck.”

Whoo. “Is he … is he hard?”

“Yeah.”

Whoo. “And what's she doing?”

“She's … she's trying to get between us….”

Don't stop.

“She's kissing on your nipples….” Oh, don't stop.

“Her tongue is going lower—” I hear another damn beep. Shit! “Roger, hold that thought. I have another call.” I click over. “Hello?” “Checking up on me, Lana?”

Izzie.

“Huh?”

“I know you called Karl while I was there.”

Time to break bad on Izzie. “Yes, I did, and I'm wondering how you could have ever become a guidance counselor if you can't count.”

A pause.

“Karl told me everything y'all
didn't
do.”

“Oh, did he?”

“Yeah. And all you got were some fake Coach bags, Grandma.”

Another pause. “He told you about that?”

“You bought them all, right?”

“No, not about that. He kept calling me ‘Grandma,' and I wondered why in the world …”

“By the way,” I interrupt, “you got
four
grandchildren and
five
kids by
five
different daddies.”

“You
witch!”

“Isn't that one of your fantasies?”

I hear a low growling sound. Does Izzie have a dog?

“Oh,” I add, “and don't bother coming over next Sunday.”

“Why?”

“Because you
won't
have a story to tell. Good night, Izzie.”

Click
.

Now, what am I
ever
going to do on Sunday afternoons without Izzie? Hmm. I may just have to do nothing all day.

Or have more phone sex with Roger. I click back to him. “Is she licking me down there yet?”

“Uh-huh.”

This has never been my fantasy, but I can't help but get more excited. “What's the … what's the man doing?”

“He's, um, he's fucking her, hard….” Damn.

“And he wants to fuck you next….” Oh … shit … damn … Oh yes, here come the rainbows. “Roger?” “Yeah?” “I came.” “Yeah?”

Oh shit, oh shit. “Yeah. Did you?” “Yeah.”

“Um, I'll talk to you later.” “Okay. Good night, Lana.” “Yeah. Good night.”

I look around my room, at the crumpled sheets, at all that yellow.

Yeah. It has been a good night.

A
fter a nice nap and a phone call to PH to tell the secretary that I'm “under the weather”—and after having a difficult time getting Roger's boxers off the side of my house using a step stool and a long stick—I sit in the reading room and think.

Another woman, a so-called friend of mine, tried to steal away one of my men today. And this gets me to thinking about other women I don't know out there who might be trying to do the exact same thing with Juan Carlos or Roger. I can't let my men lose interest in me. Should I put them on a schedule? Hmm. A timetable of lust. Yes.

Nah. It wouldn't work. Whenever my friend comes, no one can see me—

Or should I continue to test them? I can't live my life full of doubt. I can't sit here wondering what each of them might be doing. I didn't have these thoughts when I was living in the city, but the same as when I was there, I can't just sit here by the phone. If Roger can talk me into an orgasm, what's to
stop him from calling someone else? His fantasies are so detailed, almost as if maybe he's already done them.

I need another test.

I pat my stomach. It's mostly flat with a little roll just under my belly button. I never could get rid of that little jelly roll no matter how many sit-ups I did. Must be genetic—

A test, yes. But this time, it will be a test of their friendship.

Yes.

I pat my stomach again. “I think I'm going to be late,” I say.

When Karl arrives with lunch, I get right to the point. “I'm late, Karl. I think I may be pregnant.” I dig into the Hardee's Thickburger he brought me, ketchup and mayonnaise oozing out of the sides of my mouth.

Karl doesn't seem to be breathing.

“You hear what I said?” Damn, this is a sloppy burger.

“I heard you. Are you sure?”

“Of course I'm sure. My friend has been faithful since I was thirteen. I was going to tell you yesterday, but I didn't want to ruin the moment. So, what do you think?”

Karl fiddles with a curly fry. “I think it's great.”

I smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then he, um (sorry, Roger!), puts me right up on that kitchen table and starts to get busy with me while I finish my burger. But then I realize—

“You got a condom?” I say, sitting up.

“I don't need one anymore, right?”

Shit.

Why didn't I think of this? They all
hate
to wear
condoms, and now I've just given Karl the chance for his stuff to be free!

“I'm late, boo. That doesn't mean I'm pregnant. You still need to wear a condom.”

He steps back. “You don't want to be pregnant with my child?”

Huh? “I was just saying that you need to use a condom like always.”

“I heard you. You're saying I need to use a condom because you don't want to be pregnant, right?”

Karl is just full of surprises today. He's actually thinking something through. “I didn't say it that way. It's just …”

“Well, what
are
you saying, Lana?”

And suddenly I'm not Peanut. “I'm just saying that now is not the time for us to have a baby, with you on the road so much.”

“But I just told you about being a distributor or opening my own store down here.” He sits in a chair as he shrivels up and my stuff dries up. “What was all that stuff you were talking about yesterday?” He pulls up his pants, zipping his zipper.

Oh yeah. I was pushing him about hooking up long-term. “Baby, my hormones are all out of whack right now. I know I'm not making much sense, so—”

His pager starts vibrating on the table.

“Don't answer that,” I say, but it's too late.

He snatches up his pager, snatches my cell phone, and goes outside to make his call. If I'm lucky, he won't be able to get a clear signal.

I limp to the window and see him talking on the phone using that salesman's smile of his. Shit. He sees me and mouths “business.” Ten minutes later, he comes back inside.

“I have to go meet with one of those truckers, the ones I told you about. He's over at the truck stop in Troutville.”

“You're just going to leave me like that? Karl, I may be pregnant.”

He sighs. “And this deal, if it works out, will keep me home with you
and
our baby. I have to go.”

“But I need you” escapes before I can stop it.

He nods. “And I need you, too, Peanut. I'll come right back when I'm done. I promise.” He kisses my cheek. “I'll be back.”

“How long are you going to be?”

He shrugs.

Thirty minutes pass. Then thirty more. I toy with paging him but don't. I even think of calling Izzie, just to make sure the two of them aren't scamming me. There's no scam. There can't be a scam. I believe in Karl, and I'm even beginning to believe he's about to become my one-and-only boo. He's trying to put down roots around me. Maybe it's time I simplified my life. Karl seems sincere, and with that smile and body, he'll be a great salesman. It will take me a good long while to control my jealousy of other women checking out my African god, but I think I can handle it.

Am I making a choice here or what?

I think I am.

I think … I'm about to become a one-man woman.

Then it's time to weed out Juan Carlos.

I call Berglund, and the service manager gets him for me. “Hello, Lahhh-na.”

“Hi.” For some reason, his saying my name that way didn't make me tingle today. I'm doing the right thing. “Juan Carlos, I want to meet your mama today, and I
won't
take no for an answer.” That ought to do it. That ought to weed him out.

“But Lana, I am not ready—”

“It's now or never,” I interrupt.

“But Lana, it is impossible today, you see. She is at—”

“I thought you loved me,” I interrupt. This is going so much better than I had hoped! Almost done.

“I do, I do, Lana, but I cannot—”

“Then it's goodbye, Juan Carlos. We're through.” I should hang up now, but I owe him the last word. After all, he did bring some passion into my life when passion was missing in my life.

But he doesn't give me the last word. “I am coming to see you.”
Click
.

Oh shit! I call back, but the service manager says Juan Carlos is “gone in a flash.”

Shit shit
shit!

Karl's coming back.

Juan Carlos is on his way.

Should I just … vacate? Is the sun starting to go down? It is. I could just roll on out of here, go for a drive until, oh, midnight. That's what I'll do. I know the country roads around here by now. I don't even have to turn on my headlights. I'll just take a long drive without my cell phone—

No, Karl might worry if he tries to call me and I don't answer. I mean, I may be “having his child,” and he'd worry. What if Roger calls? He'd worry, too. And what about Roger? I've been sitting here clearing the way for Karl, and I've completely forgotten about the man who made me see rainbows without even being in the room!

I should have stayed in the city.

Okay, okay, calm down. That Bonneville can barely get over forty without shaking. That gives me at least half an hour to—

To do what?

Page Karl. Tell him … tell him I'm going to my mama's to do laundry. That might work. Yeah. I'll meet Karl at my mama's.

But that will leave Juan Carlos hanging, and knowing his temper, he might wait here for me until I get back.

Damn.

I thought I was perfectly clear on the phone with him. “Then it's goodbye, we're through” should have been enough! What's there left to talk about?

I page Karl and wait, staring hard at my phone. “Ring, damn you,” I whisper.

Hmm. I'll need laundry. The sheets! I get up the stairs with some difficulty, and as soon as I get the sheets off, my cell phone rings.

“Karl, thank you for calling back so soon.”

Silence. “Lana, it's Roger.”

Oops. “Hi, Roger. I was expecting a call from … from my brother.”

“Oh. You sound out of breath.”

Has it been forty minutes? Of course not. Juan Carlos is still miles away from here, and why doesn't Juan Carlos have a cell phone so I can tell him not to come? Everyone on this
freaking
planet has a cell phone, but
no
, I have to hook up with a man—

“Lana, are you all right?”

“Uh, well, it's been kind of hard getting around with this bum ankle.”

“I suppose so. You need some help? It's been a slow
day at the cemetery. Our customers aren't dying to see us today.”

Normally I'd laugh, but today, I can't. “Uh, no, I can manage.”

“Well, um,” Roger says, “I'm already … here.”

Every blood cell in my body freezes.

I can't move.

“You're … here?”

“I wanted to surprise you.”