Cheaters (5 page)

Jake smiled under his shades. “Man, please. After Sun Valley and Vail, this whole mountain is a bunny slope.”

We laughed. I planted my poles at my side, pulled off my mittens, then reached inside my jacket and pulled out my camera. They shuffled close enough to hug. I took a few pictures.

Charlotte beamed like a prom queen. “Game for the moguls?”

Moguls are those bumps in the ski run that test the hell out of your skills. And your knees. My muscles were aching a bit, and I didn’t want to get sloppy and do a Bono into a pine tree. I waved the ambitious pair toward the downhill run. “Go on. I’m going to wait for Toyomi and her friend Shar.”

I watched them dive into that run like they were born on snow. Jake and Charlotte looked so good together. The smile she had when she was with Jake was pure joy and happiness. And while Jake was with her, you’d never know he had more women waiting with warm sheets than Toys R Us has Barbie dolls.

I hope he appreciates what he has.

I’d stopped halfway down Goldrush. Stood at eight thousand feet. In smog-free air. Surrounded by mountains frosted in pure white snow. All the pine trees stood like proud snow cones. Overhead, blue skies with very few clouds. The view spanned all the way out to the dry desert of Palmdale and Lancaster. Snow and sand. The dichotomy of the moment sucked me deep inside.

“What are you looking at?” Toyomi did a couple of quick and sassy turns, stopped on a dime a few feet from me, and sprayed a ton of snow on my boots and skis. When it came to skiing, she thought she was the next Picabo Street.

Again she asked, “What’re you looking at?”

My eyes were on the snow. Watching the sun reflect off the whiteness. At this moment I felt like snow was Mother Nature’s way of telling people to slow down. Telling me to slow down. I should’ve told Toyomi that, but I didn’t. Instead I gave her my best smile and said, “Looking at you. Let me take your pic.”

After the snapshot, she said, “You’re sweating.”

“Thermals have me a little toasty. Ready to roll?”

Toyomi said, “Wait for Shar. She’s right behind me.”

“She fall down?”

“Yep. Her ski came off, and she was struggling to get it back on. Oh, look, Steph, some more black people are up here.”

The hills were packed with Anglo and Asian, quite a few Mexicans. Toyomi pointed at six sistas who were traversing their way down the mile-and-a-half Goldrush run. Good-looking sistas in attention-grabbing colors: yellows, reds, light blues. Body-tight ski suits made the women in winter wonderland look good.

They stopped, eased up their goggles, and smiled down the hill when they saw me. One of them waved.

In a heated tone Toyomi asked, “And who is that?”

“Who?”

“That bitch who waved at you?”

That was the side of her I hated. Her eyes darkened. I smelled insanity on her breath. I asked, “Why does she have to be a bitch?”

“Because the bitch waited until she thought I wasn’t looking to wave at you. Why couldn’t she wave at
us
? That’s what makes that bitch a bitch. Who is she?”

“I have no idea. Just black people waving at black people.”

“That was more than a wave.”

I asked, “How would you know?”

“I’m a woman and I know women.”

Toyomi maneuvered down the hill and stopped close enough to me so she could take off her sunglasses and get a kiss.

She whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

I told her the same. Told her the same thing that I had told Samantha last night. The only way I had slipped out

of Samantha’s arms was by telling her I had to work. Last night she went all out: strawberries and champagne being licked off every part of me. That’s why I was so damn sluggish. Five hours of sleep and three hours of driving can slow a man down big time, no matter how much orange juice, ginseng, and yo’himbe he’s ingested.

I tongued Toyomi down and told her happy Valentine’s Day.

The same thing I might tell Brittany later on tonight.

Out of the three women I spent time with, Toyomi was the main one. The one, relative to the other two I entertained, whom I really cared about. We’d been seeing each other a little over a year. Thirteen months and some change, to be exact.

Underneath her black ski suit, mittens, and earmuffs. Toyomi’s a small-waisted, perky-breasted, healthy-butted, half-Black, half-Japanese sister I met on-line in a Net Noir chat room. After e-mailing and sending each other photos, we met face-to-face at a scanty club in Redland called Whiskey Creek. Shot eight ball and nine ball half the night in that honky-tonk atmosphere. Ended up gambling for kisses. She’s a fresh twenty-four. Just got her first white-collar job two years back. She’d had two lovers since she turned nineteen. Inexperienced in sin, but a quick study and a perfectionist who aimed to please her man in any and every way possible. Her plus was her minus too, because she was too intense and clinging.

Toyomi had brought her best friend, Shar, along. Shar didn’t have a date. Her purple bib and red jacket appeared in the distance, swooshing side to side, maneuvering around a few fools who had fallen. She caught up a minute later.

Toyomi dropped her pole, and as she bent to pick it up, Shar stopped near me. Right up on me. She touched the butt of my bib with her pole and smiled. She always gave me this wanton gleam when Toyomi wasn’t watching. Shar’s tall and always pleasant to talk to and more than a fantasy to behold from any angle—front, back, side to side.

By the time Toyomi raised her head, Shar was gazing off in another direction. Acting like she’d never noticed I was there.

I asked Shar, “What happened to your date?”

She shrugged. “We broke up last week.”

I already knew that. Part of me just wanted to hear her voice. I told them that Jake and Charlotte were ahead of us.

Shar said, “Which way we going, good people?”

I yanked out my map of the mountain, checked out the trails, and suggested, “Let’s cut over to Sepps’s this time. We haven’t done that run. It’s long and not too steep.”

They took off before me, carved their trails in the snow. I took it easy and followed their snow-powdered scents.

Toyomi was in front, kept her skis parallel, planted her poles before she turned, dipped those hips as she moved with a passion. Always moving with a passion.

Shar’s tall frame moved with equal hunger.

Toyomi’s a bona fide, bodacious, fine-ass woman, but I couldn’t keep my eyes from wandering to Shar. Couldn’t stop imagining. And that’s a damn shame on my part. Yep, over and over I’ve caught Shar looking at my buns, smiling. Waving a match in front of my kerosene. Every time I’ve seen her, those baby brown eyes have owned that same glare of imagination that mine had been trying not to broadcast for the last year. Shar’s called my place looking for Toyomi a few times, and we’ve had some nice conversations. We’ve discussed her boyfriend. The problems they’ve had. Sex. And, as far as I know, she’s never told Toyomi that we’ve said more than a hi and bye to each other. Whenever she’s near Toyomi, she paints the impression of this thick, uncrossable line being there.

I wondered what would happen if both of us became victims of space and opportunity.

After we rode the bus to the west resort and skied most of those trails, we came back to the east side and headed for the lodge, Angeles Crest Café, to get our grub on. Hot dogs, hamburgers, fries, Mexican food, all of those smells were in the air and made my stomach grumble. Luck was on our side and we caught an empty table outside in the sun. It was about forty degrees, no breeze. Crowded. Not another empty table in sight.

We’d loosened our boots. Unzipped our jackets. Pulled the beanies, headbands, off our heads.

Steaming hot cocoa and bottled water were on the round iron table. Sandwiches were being devoured.

Toyomi said, “Charlotte, I’m glad I finally got a chance to meet you. Stephan’s been talking about you for over a year.”

Yep. This was their first-time meeting. Charlotte had met a couple of the other women I kicked it with, but never Toyomi.

Jake asked Shar, “You work in R&D with Toyomi?”

“Nope,” Shar answered. “I teach high school math. I’ll leave that engineer stuff to Toy and Stephan.”

Charlotte tugged off her gloves and liners. That was when Toyomi saw her engagement ring. “I forgot Stephan told me you were engaged. When’s the wedding, Charlotte?”

Nobody answered.

Shar was sitting between me and Jake. I felt her leg pressing against mine. There was plenty of space, but she was right up on me. Felt her warmth radiating through my bib. Shar told Charlotte she wanted to see her rock, leaned across me, put her body all on mine, rubbed up against me as she said how beautiful the marquis was, then sat back down, her leg still up against mine. She ignored me, pretended what she’d done was no big deal. She was focused on Charlotte when she asked, “How long have you two been engaged?”

Charlotte sort of smiled at the questions, but uneasiness sprouted in Jake’s expression. Lines grew in his forehead. His fingers came down his roan complexion and stroked his black goatee. He did that methodical move over and over. That was his nervous-trying-to-look-cool move.

Charlotte answered, “We haven’t actually set a date yet. We’ve talked about it, but, well, you know how it is.”

Shar said, “You must’ve just got engaged.”

“Not really.” That slight smile was fading from Charlotte’s face. A weariness from answering that question a million times since that ring had been planted on her hand. “We’ve been engaged almost a year. To be exact, a year on the twenty-fifth of this month. But who’s counting?”

The women at the round table shared a womanly expression. I felt them transferring information in silence. Jake felt it. I know he did because we were communicating without words too.

Toyomi said, “I’ve been with Stephan longer than you’ve been engaged.”

Silence interrupted us. In silence there was judgment.

Then Shar piled on another question. “How long were you and Jake together before he popped the question?”

Charlotte said, “Six months.”

More communication and judgments in the absence of sound.

A longing was living in Toyomi’s eyes.

I didn’t say anything. Just chewed my turkey sandwich and let them talk. Felt like my head was in a vise grip.

Toyomi and I had been on the ups and downs. Mostly the downs. She was becoming too intense. She started off as a midnight run. Just another B.C.—booty call—to be made on weekends. A movie. Dinner. Maybe party out her way. Then some serious boot knockin’ that had the neighbors banging on the walls with jealousy. Things clicked and what we had was almost a bona fide relationship.

Charlotte patted her man’s hand, then got up from the table.

Toyomi asked, “Where you off to?”

She held on to her smile. “Bathroom. This is the part I hate about skiing. Standing in that long line, then having to wrestle with all of these doggone clothes while I hold myself up and try not to let my booty touch the filthy toilet seat. Moments like this make me wish I was a man, ‘cause there are plenty of trees out here. I’d whip sling-a-ling out and mark me some territory.”

The women laughed a naughty girls’ laugh.

Toyomi stood. “I’ll walk with you.”

Shar followed Toyomi, saying, “I gotta go too.”

The women headed toward the John, did their female bonding ritual as they strolled across the wooden walkway.

As soon as they were out of hearing range, Jake let me know that he needed some male bonding as well. The bad dreams were back. He has these nightmares that make it hard for him to sleep. He’s been having them off and on for about a year now.

He sipped his cocoa and said, “It was just like the other ones, man. This time I opened my front door and saw a kid, a cute little girl, light-skinned, wavy hair, about sixteen.

And she just kept following me around, looking like she wanted to bite my motherfucking head off.”

Jake never curses around Charlotte. Always a gentleman in her presence.

I asked, “Which head?”

“Both of ‘em.”

We chuckled. Not long or strong. Fear seasoned his laugh.

I asked, “Any idea who the girl in your dream is?”

“For a while she looked kinda like Brenda.”

“Who?”

“This freak I had this thing with when I was at Crenshaw High. Man, I had forgot about her. Think she was fifteen, or fourteen back then. But, hell, that’s almost fifteen years ago. I can’t remember everybody I’ve hooked up with since then.”

“Sure you’re not dreaming about Brenda?”

“Hell, naw. I barely remembered Brenda, until that kid that looked kinda like her popped up in my dreams. And she had eight or nine of her friends with her. Some of ‘em looked about her age. One or two might’ve been in middle school. Or elementary. A couple of brothers about her age, about as tall as me, were staring me down, frowning like they were about to shank me. One of the brothers was pushing a baby carriage.”

“That Brenda, the one who you think that one of the girls looked like, did she do something to you?”

“Naw. It wasn’t like she was my girlfriend or nothing. We just got busy a few times back in the day. It’s not just her.”

“What?”

“Well, all of the kids, all of ‘em look familiar, but I can’t remember who they are, or who they look like when I wake up. But it’s the same people in every dream. I’m pretty sure of that.”

I said, “But they never do anything to you, right?”

“The way they look at me, man, it scares the hell out of me. Sometimes their faces change and they start to look like somebody else, or each other. I run; they follow. If I’m in a room, they close in on me, kinda like Michael Jackson and those freak, weirdo, dancing zombies did Ola Raye in

that ‘Thriller’ video. I run all around the house. Well, it’s not really a house. I think that it’s a hospital.”

I said, “A hospital? You never told me that.”

“I just figured that part out. Could be a doctor’s office. I’m sure about that. It’s white and sterile. Too much light sometimes. I can’t tell, ‘cause you know how dreams are all clear in some parts, then fuzzy in others.”