Cosmopolitan Girls (3 page)

Chapter 5

Prince Charming

I kept watching the clock all day like a school-kid. Troy called two weeks to the day and our first date is tonight. Unfortunately, Robert and I were deep in a brainstorming session for the Upfront. I two-wayed Troy, letting him know I was running late, and I'd meet him at the restaurant. Troy insisted on picking me up at the office.

I was uncomfortable with him doing that so soon. I wasn't ready for Robert to be privy to my private life. Robert hired me and took me under his wing five years ago, and from day one he stressed that one should avoid excessive socializing. A person would have more than enough time to enjoy all that on the other side of success. As far as Robert was concerned I lived for MediaMax. I was his faithful, trusted right hand. Therefore, I never mixed the business Lindsay with the social Lindsay, and that was that.

This particular night Robert and I were working after hours, and everyone else had gone home. Before leaving, Robert's assistant posted our Upfront plans on large boards in Robert's office where there was more space and privacy. When Robert started running the company, he implemented what he called an open-door policy. All the executives were in cubicles. He felt it would boost company morale to have the entire staff mixing and mingling.

Robert's office was on a whole different level. It was as meticulous as he was. In the center of the room sat a massive mahogany desk, sparsely decorated with matching leather accessories, surrounded by large windows. A butter-soft imported leather sofa that sat across from it was the only other ostentatious object in the room. A small halogen bulb spotlighted the glass shelves of his bookcase where rows of Emmys, Aces, and certificates of achievement were prominently displayed.

We had just about wrapped up for the night and for the thousandth time, I checked my watch. Nine o'clock. Troy said he'd be here between nine and nine-fifteen. I was standing in front of the biggest picture window behind Robert's desk when he returned from the bathroom. The skyline and city below looked so much better from inside his gigantic piece of the world. Robert quietly leaned over my shoulder.

“I think we've done some good work tonight. You really came up with some exciting ideas, Lindsay.”

“I guess taking another stab at it wasn't so bad,” I said, smiling, looking up at him.

I'd been wondering the whole night about the position of Robert's large leather swivel desk chair. “Robert, why does your chair always face toward the window?” I asked curiously.

Robert paused, taking a deep breath. “I like to look out onto the world and think about things like life and where I want to be at fifty. It helps me clear my head and strategize what I'll conquer next,” he said with the look of a warrior in his eyes.

Robert was a deep brother, and for the first time I really looked at him. His skin was dark like a melted Hershey bar, keen features, clean-shaven, and he kept a low haircut. His soft shiny waves gave away that he used an expensive ethnic pomade to keep the tiny strands in place. Robert was lean, six feet, and forty-two. Younger than one would imagine, since he was so powerful in the industry.

“So you plan to conquer it alone? No wife, no kids?” My words had slipped out before I could stop them. Maybe I'd gotten too comfortable? Robert paused again. I got nervous. He turned to me and spoke softly. “Lindsay, relationships distract people from their goals. I guess that's the very reason I've stayed single.”

His words lingered, and so did his eye contact. It seemed that there was a connection a bit deeper than MediaMax . . .

“Excuse me?” Troy said, poking his head in Robert's office, “Am I interrupting something?”

I was as startled as if he'd just caught me in the arms of another man. Robert's attitude was just the opposite.

“Can I help you?” he said with an air of arrogance.

“Uh, no, Robert, this is my friend Troy,” I said, fumbling, walking toward Troy. I wanted to hug him, but then I'd be really putting my business out there. Why was I tripping so hard? I had waited all this time to see Troy and now I didn't even want to greet him properly. Get it together girl!

Before I could make any introductions, Troy had stepped into Robert's office and was extending his hand.

“Hello, I'm Troy Barnes,” he said, offering a firm handshake.

“Good meeting you,” Robert said, shaking Troy's hand like he was sizing him up. He didn't even bother to give Troy his name. Robert then turned to me. He was so good he could dismiss you without you even knowing it, but I knew. He was flat-out dissing Troy.

“Lindsay, I think we're done. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow.”

“Thanks Robert,” I said, ushering Troy out as fast as I could. Robert's stiff body language told me not to even think about getting my groove on too hard tonight. Why was Robert coming off possessive?

I could breathe now, and was glad Troy and Robert's pissing war was over. The night had started off rocky, but Troy seemed determined to make every aspect of our first date perfect. I loved Italian food and the SoHo restaurant Barolo was one of my favorites. It was elegant, airy, and had a beautiful garden.

Troy and I had been talking for what seemed like hours, just gazing into each other's eyes. I had a crazy spiritual thing about eyes. Mama said they were the windows to a person's soul.

“What's up with the dude at your job? He's kinda cocky. I don't dig that,” Troy said, pouring me another glass of Merlot.

I was hoping we could just let that slide. I should've known better. “No, my boss Robert's cool. He's just a little intense,” I said, slightly defensive.

“I just didn't know if I was breaking something up or not.” Troy was giving me shit on the sly.

“Troy, you don't have anything to worry about,” I said, reaching over and gently touching his hand. Troy smiled, taking the subtle hint to let it go. “So, tell me about yourself, Troy.”

“What do you want to know?” he replied.

“Everything!”

“Okay. You may or may not know, I'm a video director, a Virgo, a Morehouse man, of course, and the youngest of three boys. Well, I was,” he said, clearing his throat. “A brotha didn't mean to get all emotional on the first date, but my oldest brother died three years ago in a car accident.”

We sat silently and awkwardly for a few minutes.

“I'm sorry to hear that. I'm the baby of three girls, and I don't know what I'd do if I lost one of my sisters. It must really be hard to deal with.”

“Yeah, it still gets rough sometimes. He was more like a father to me, because our father wasn't around. He taught me everything,” he said, this time taking a sip of his wine.

“I feel you. There's a good chance my oldest sister has MS. The doctors are still running a bunch of tests, but I'm praying she doesn't have it.”

“I'll say a prayer too.”

“Thanks. A sista didn't mean to get all emotional on the first date, either.”

We both laughed.

I was starting to dig this guy already. I had to get straight to the point. “So, Troy, is there a lady in your life?”

“C'mon, give a brotha some credit. If I had a woman I wouldn't be here with you.”

“Okay, I'll give you that. So when you do have a woman, what kind of things do you like to do?”

“I like to do it all, picnics, horseback riding, anything outdoors. I love to travel, shop, and spontaneity is my middle name.”

I started to blush. Why did I suddenly feel like I was on
The Dating Game
?

“Look, Lindsay, I don't want to play games with you. I'm looking to get to know you, get in your head, see what Lindsay's all about. I'm feelin' you,” Troy said, looking me in the eye.

I had never heard a man speak his intentions up front before. It let me know it was okay for me to be direct too.

“You know that I dated your boy Randy?” I kept strong eye contact and didn't blink.

“Are you with him now?”

“No, but it didn't end well.”

“Lindsay, I'm a grown man and you're a grown woman and neither one of us is married. The past is the past. He's my boy, but he don't run me!”

I've been waiting and wishing for an honest and solid relationship ever since I moved to New York. Men have a tendency to get amnesia when it comes to telling the truth, or get flaky when it comes to sticking with plans. After tonight, though, I think we could really be onto something new, exciting and meaningful.

Troy is different from the other men I've been dating, with their polished-prep-boy looks and tight bodies. Troy is manly in his six-one build, and I'm champagne and cashmere mixed with some down-home girl-next-door to his Jimi Hendrix “Purple Haze” and Abercrombie & Fitch. Troy is definitely in his own category. His goatee and the big sandy curls that make up his low-fro are an extension of his artistic side.

I'm captivated by his intelligence, too. This man knows about everything from stocks and bonds to world events. Damn, a brother with a good head on his shoulders,
husband
material. Without a doubt.

Chapter 6

Surprise!

Believe it or not but picking up that brat MJ from day camp last week turned out to be worth it. Don't get me wrong, it's not easy being in my position. I have really grown to love that boy as if he were my own, but as MJ and his mother, Juanita, like to remind me, those are not my kids. It's strange, but I didn't start hearing that until after Michael moved in with me two years ago. I guess like most “baby mamas,” Juanita was hoping she and Michael would get back together one day. I don't blame MJ. Like most kids he just wants his parents to be together and live in the same house. So I guess the constant “baby mama drama” I experience is in a way justified.

I knew what I was getting myself into when I met Michael. Accepting him and his baggage, including his every-other-weekend-with-the-kids arrangement. After falling in love with him three years ago, this was a price I was willing to pay. Damn, love is strong sometimes.

But like I said, Michael does keep his promises. So what I thought was going to be a typical trip to the grocery store turned into an overnight stay in the Poconos. He found the cutest little bed-and-breakfast online. Gotta love that Internet!

The innkeeper was an older Irish woman, in her late fifties, whose family had owned the property since the thirties. The soft bags under her eyes gave her a striking resemblance to a cocker spaniel. She tended to our every need, from personally showing us to our room to giving us a tour of the quaint town.

“You like the room?” Michael proudly asked as he began to unpack what appeared to be more surprises from an overnight bag. I nodded yes as I made my way over to see. He pulled out a sexy black lace teddy and let it dangle from his fingers. That was my cue. I sexily catwalked over to him, looking up coyly, like a true innocent. This was all part of our game and, ironically, part of our sexual history.

Growing up in a strict church-going family, sex was for marriage only. I wasn't a virgin when I met Michael but I wasn't far from it. Michael threw me onto the bed and yanked my jeans off. “You ready for the tootsie roll,” he said, kissing my navel, making his way down to what he calls my tootsie. Then he began rolling that wicked tongue. Bashful, I tried to cover my excitement.

Oral sex was still very taboo to me. Michael pushed my hands away from my face and held them down firmly. “Baby, look at your man when he's working,” his sexy baritone voice commanded, sending chills up my body. Michael may just be the most romantic man I've ever been with, and the freakiest as well . . .

After an erotic shower with Michael, I finally slipped into the teddy and crawled into bed, lying on top of him. “Oh yeah, I forgot to give you this,” Michael said, pulling a little box from underneath the pillow. A beautiful tennis bracelet was inside and I didn't know what to say.

I find myself being outdone by him all the time. I remember our first date. I was fifteen minutes late, so I arrived with a dozen red roses in hand. I thought I was really doing something. Michael said he'd never gotten flowers before and was impressed.

For our second date, before he picked me up, about twelve dozen long-stem white roses showed up at my job. I was so undone as the delivery guy crammed all those vases into my tiny office, and so was everyone else who was watching. Humph, I think I'm still blushing from that day. Falling in love with him was easy. Michael may have a lot of baggage, but his knack for romance gets me every time.

Relaxed and tension-free, Michael and I were pulling up into the driveway.

“Home sweet home,” I said, following our marvelous weekend away, but I wished we could have stayed up in the Poconos forever. Michael laughed as he opened the car door to let me out.

“I promise to take you away more often. Okay?” Michael said with a loving look.

The telephone was ringing as we entered the apartment. I picked up, noticing our answering machine had been quite busy while we were away.

“Hello?” I said, wondering who the twenty messages were from. It was strange that the same number appeared several times on the screen. Probably one of those computerized solicitors selling something I didn't need. I jotted down the number on my mini postboard, in case it was important. It was my granny on the other end.

“Hey, Granny.”

“Hey!” she chuckled like she always did when she heard my voice. I loved that about her. No matter how good or bad I felt, I could always count on her to lift my spirits.

“Where has my grandbaby been? I've been calling since yesterday and all morning today.” Granny loved to fuss. “That message you left me about MJ had me worried. My grand sounding like she losing her mind down there. Chile, you better talk to me,” Granny demanded.

“Everything is better now. Michael treated me to an overnight getaway. Actually we were just walking through the door,” I said, trying to reassure her that I was fine.

“That's what I like to hear. Now as for that little MJ, his butt just needs a good beating!” Granny and I both giggled.

“I know that's right, but I'll leave that up to Michael,” I said, lowering my voice.

“Why are you whispering? Is Michael nearby?”

“Well sort of. You know how small this apartment is. I'll call you tomorrow from the office and tell you all about MJ's little tantrum,” I said.

“Okay, don't forget. Oh, and before
I
forget, I wanted to let you know that I spoke to the caterer today. Your Jewish friends will be happy to know there will be no problem providing a few kosher dishes for the wedding,” my granny said, and all I could do was release a sigh of relief.

“What would I do without you!”

“Lord knows I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure Buffalo sees the most extravagant wedding this city has ever seen!”

Ever since my engagement was announced, Granny's been like the wedding police. And my mother, Joyce, her main deputy.

Okay, so now you know. Michael and I are living in sin. We are not married, but we're on our way. Michael proposed to me a year ago and I immediately hollered yes! I mean isn't “Will you marry me?” the question we women wait most of our lives for? The question that drives most of us to the gym, to the beauty salons, and even sometimes to the plastic surgeon. Doing whatever it takes to make sure we're at our best, hoping to trap a man and get him to say “Will you be my wife?”

Well, that's exactly what Michael said to me before placing a hell of a ring on my finger. I'm still coming to grips with Michael having children from a previous relationship. It's overwhelming at times. But the kids aren't that bad. Like I said, some sacrifices are worth it . . . right?