Going Broke (4 page)

She looked around. “I mean . . . it's all right.”

Trying to get the party on her mind, I asked, “So what do you think of the place?”

“It's nice.” She looked around. “I wonder what you girls would've done without me.”

“We would've gotten the job done somehow.”

“Well, I'm sure you'll get the job done in the Bahamas as well.”

Her words took me by surprise. Nat and I swore that we'd never tell anyone about the five grand that we split out of the ten that she offered for the party. “What?” I tried to smile, but I was dumbfounded.

“It's cool.” She smiled. “You need a vacation; I'm just glad that I was able to assist.”

I'm not rich, but I wasn't broke, and I wasn't about to let India treat me like I was.

“Look, I'll write you out a check tomorrow,” I said, embarrassed.

She laughed. “Don't worry about it, girl.” India's mood seemed to be improving as she made me more uncomfortable.

“I have it, and it's no problem,” I lied.

“Well, if you insist. Or you could just think of it as a gift from me to you.” She giggled. “Everybody can't be rolling in cash, ya know?”

I didn't know if I should be offended or grateful, but I was damn glad when a dude in an ugly orange mask came over and asked her to dance. She rejected him then told me that she'd call me the next day.

I ran into Nat coming out of the kitchen, giving orders, no doubt. “What in the hell is wrong with India?”

“Why?” she asked.

“She just left. I am so damn tired of her antics.”

Nat said, “I guess money doesn't make life easier.”

“Well, give me some, and I'll tell you.” Then I remembered my talk with India earlier. “Did you tell her about my trip?”

“No.” She glared at me. “Why?”

“She mentioned it.”

“No, I never said anything.” She covered her mouth. “So she knows that I kept my share too?”

“I don't know.” I needed another drink. “But I'll write her a check tomorrow. She is way too dramatic for me. I think we need to let her go, Nat.”

“I think she's just lonely.”

“Whatever! She's chasing that dude around.” I sighed. “After I give her this check, I'm through dealing. She is really starting to get on my nerves.”

“Don't give up on her. I think she's missing Andrew too.”

I laughed. “You can't be serious.” I had to look into her face. “If she were missing him, she would've kept the baby. The man you're supposed to love gets killed and you have an abortion right after the funeral?” I was getting hot. “I need another drink.”

Nat looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. “It's your birthday. Go find your man.”

I began walking toward Damian but ran into Mr. Phantom. “Did you find what you were looking for, sir?” I asked but kept walking.

“Yes, ma'am, but it keeps passing me by,” he said to my back.

I reached the bar, grabbed Damian's hand, and pulled him away from his friends. “We haven't danced in a while, baby,” I said sexily, licking his earlobe. “Dance with me.”

He followed me to the floor and gave me just what I was looking for. He had me hurting, sweating, and horny during the thirty minutes we spent out there.

When Mya's “My Love is Like . . . Whoa” blasted through the speakers, I turned my back to his chest and did a provocative grinding number on him as he tried to keep his hands from going where they shouldn't go in public.

“Keep doing that and I swear I'll have your ass pinned up in the bathroom after this song,” he whispered.

“Is that a promise?”

“You damn skippy, it is.”

When I spotted Mr. Phantom watching me from the wall, I felt uncomfortable and turned back to face Damian.

After the song, I gave him a kiss and told him that I surrendered. I couldn't take it any longer and needed to rest.

After a little mingling, I found Natalya and Nick resting on one of the beds in the back. He was holding her like there was no tomorrow, and she looked like tomorrow wouldn't matter without him. I guessed Nick only having a half of an uncooked Oscar Mayer wiener wasn't an issue anymore. She should've kept that part about him to herself. I'd never see him the same again. Women need to learn that
everything
about their man isn't for their girls to know too.

“Birthday girl, have you been on the dance floor?”

Nick smiled and excused himself to the bar.

As we watched him walk away, she smiled and said, “Sarai, he is such a good man.”

I knew why she was saying it. “I know he is, Nat.” She didn't have to sell him to me. If he truly loved her, then I was already sold. I'd just give them a penis pump as a wedding gift. I smiled. “Go with your heart.”

“I am.” She looked at him until he disappeared. “We can work the other stuff out.”

“You better.” Hopefully she'd wake up and remember what good dick was like, and then we'd have this conversation again. “If you love him, love him.”

“Thank you.” She leaned on me.

“Question”—I looked around the room—“who is the Phantom of the Opera?”

“Huh?” She looked at me like I was insane. “I think Andrew Lloyd Webber wrote it.”

“I don't mean the actual opera, you retard.” I giggled. “I mean the guy with the white half-mask.” I pointed in the direction I saw him in last. “He was over there.”

“I have no clue who half of these people are, and I guess I won't know until they take off the masks. I barely recognized Nick.”

That was easy.
Just look for the guy without a bulge
. I kept that thought to myself. “I want to know who he is.”

“What happened to him?”

“Nothing,” I said. “I just thought you would know.”

“Well, after the unveiling, I'll see if I know who you're talking about.”

As I stood, I saw Damian approaching with a look of urgency on his face and his cell phone glued to his ear. “Baby, something's up, and I need to make a run.”

“Is our meeting in the ladies' room being rescheduled, Mr. Carter?” I flirted.

He kissed me on the forehead. “Unfortunately, it
has
been rescheduled, Ms. Emery. The location has been changed as well.” He smiled. “I'll see you at home.”

I was past the stage of whining and asking or begging him to tell me where he was going. When I met him, he was straight-up about his lifestyle, so all I could do was kiss him goodbye and pray that he'd make it home safely.

“Those Bimini boys want to talk business.” He kissed me again. “Be ready when I get home.”

As Damian walked away, Nick was returning. I told Nat that I would let them have their cuddle time.

The party was jumping, but the party inside of me died, knowing that Damian was gone, India was tripping, and Mr. Phantom was shaking his groove thing with a Latina girl on the dance floor.

I walked over to the bar. “Let me have a dirty Beefeater gin martini, please.” I thought of writing India a check and quickly regretted my offer. I didn't have $2,500 of my own to spare. Twenty thousand dollars of the money in my bank account belonged to Damian, a large portion was tied up, and the rest was needed for my bills.

Damian had several accounts. He never kept all of his money in one spot; that way if anything ever went down he wouldn't be completely out of commission. He kept his “clean” money in my account. However, he entrusted some other very close friends with a little over $200,000 in accounts scattered throughout Miami, Atlanta, the Bronx, and Detroit.

Damian always told me that, while it was in my account, the money was there for the taking. He paid the rent and utilities and bought the food, so without him, the lifestyle that I lived would be almost impossible. Youplanmytrip.com and picnictogo.com paid for my father's nursing home and Nookie, my Expedition, which I still had three years left to pay on. My job at the radio station was paying back my student loans, credit cards I maxed out when I was younger, weaves, nails, toes, shoes, outfits, and perfume.

“A black woman drinking a martini.”

I felt someone brush against my back.

“Damn, that's sexy.”

Before I could look up, he sat right next to me.

I smiled. “The only thing that makes me sexy is the martini?”

“No.”

I could only see half a smile through the mask.

“
You
actually make the martini sexy.”

I had to check myself. I was blushing, and I couldn't even see this man's face. “Thank you.” I looked at my watch. It was 11:57. In just three minutes, the masks were due to come off. “What are you drinking?”

“Bailey's on the rocks.” He held up his glass. “You're a pretty good dancer.” Before I could smile or say thanks, he continued. “Your man is all right too.”

I wasn't confirming or denying anything without seeing his face. “I saw you out there. I take it that you like
arroz con pollo
.” I was referring to the Latina girl.

“Actually, I prefer collard greens, macaroni and cheese, and potato salad, but you were busy.” He smiled. “I'd also prefer not to get my skull cracked by your man for talking to you.”

“He's gone.” I laughed. “You have nothing to worry about.”

He extended his hand. “I'm Tremel.”

“Hi.” I placed my hand in his, and he squeezed it gently. “I'm Sarai.”

“Pretty name. It suits you well.” He was still holding my hand. “It's very nice to meet you.”

I eased my fingers from his sweet grip. “So what's with the Phantom of the Opera thing you have going on?”

“I picked it up at the last minute.” He seemed a bit shy about it.

“The phantom was hiding something serious behind his mask. What are you hiding?”

“Aren't we all hiding?” He touched my mask. “But what was the guy in the opera hiding?”

I checked my watch and jumped from the stool. “I'll tell you in a few.” It was twelve o'clock, and I needed to get things moving. “I have to go and wrap things up.”

“No problem.”

I issued the prizes for the games. The woman with thirty-two beads won the top prize, a $100 gift certificate to Burdines-Macy's. I didn't know what she did to collect all those beads, but she sure had all the men clapping and carrying on when she won.

All in all, the party was great. Although it was almost over, I got the crowd together to sing “Happy Birthday” to Nat. Then came the part I couldn't wait for—taking off the masks. We had only an hour left in the room, so Natalya and I hurriedly sliced and served the red velvet birthday cake.

“So where is that phantom guy you were talking about?”

I had forgotten about him. I looked around, but he wasn't in sight. “I don't see him.” I joked, “He must've been too ugly to stick around after taking off that mask.”

“You're stupid, girl.”

“He said that his name was Tremel or something like that.”

“Are you talking about Mel?” She stopped slicing.

“Tremel Colten?”

“I don't know.” I was afraid about what she might say about him. “I don't know his last name.”

She laughed. “I didn't think that he would come.”

I was curious. “Well, who is he?” I bit my bottom lip.

She smiled. “We work together.”

“He's a teacher?” A man with an education, looks, and a tad bit of street in him—just my type. “What does he teach?”

“Cleanliness.” She laughed.

I was confused. “Cleanliness? A male home economics teacher?—Is he gay?”

“He's a janitor.”

“A what?”

“A janitor.” She continued, “Tremel is a sweet guy. I didn't think he'd show up.”

“He's a janitor?” I was still in shock. I wanted to shout, “Shit!”

“Yes. Everyone can't be a big-time architect.”

“True.” I frowned. “But everyone can't be a damn janitor either.”

Nick strolled over and volunteered to help with the cake.

“I'll pick up the locks.” I grabbed the backpack we brought them in.

As the crowd dwindled, I picked up the locks that had fallen to the ground, ones on the table and on the bar, and shook my tail feather with Nelly and P. Diddy. I didn't mind staying to help with the cleaning. The later I got home, the better the chances were of Damian being there.

“Need help?”

“I'm all right.” I didn't even bother turning around.

“Well, you can at least thank me for offering.”

I turned around and was in front of the unmasked Tremel. The first thing that came to me were the words to India Arie's song, “Brown Skin.”
Apparently, your skin has been kissed by the sun
. Not only was he brassy brown, so were his eyes. His skin looked softer than a swab of cotton, and those lips . . . Lord, those lips.
You make me wanna Hershey's kiss your licorice
. He was more handsome than I expected. I was lost for a moment, until a second wind hit me, whispering,
Janitor
.

“Thank you for your offer.” I looked away. “But I think I can handle it.”

He said, “I think that I can handle it too.”

Of course he could handle picking up things. It's what he does, and he should be good at it.

He took the bag from me. “At least let me take a load off.”