Miss Independent (4 page)

He dropped his hands and groaned.

“I’m sorry!” she exclaimed. “I’m sorry, it’s just… I’m never going to move past you being married; even if I’d like to forget it and keep pretending, I can’t. Especially not now when all I will be coming home to on a nightly basis is Vanessa’s constant screeching over Nathan and Sheila.”

He tossed his hands up. “Then move out.”

“To where? A park bench?”

“Your parent’s townhouse.”

“It’s an hour outside of the city and I’d have to pay rent in order to stay there, no thanks.”

He took hold of her arms and stared directly at her face. “Stay on a park bench, live with Vanessa, I don’t care. But you need to realize one thing: we are not those people, Nicole Sanger. This isn’t something that we just fell into overnight, it developed over time. I grew to care about you as a person as we talked about our lives and backgrounds. And then I began to value your beauty; I couldn’t help but notice it, but it wasn’t the
first
thing I noticed. And then I valued your sexuality, and what we shared intimately. But none of that came as quickly as what you’re describing to me. We didn’t just decide to screw each other in the back room of my shop or a pickup truck in the park at night. We came together as two people looking for something and found whatever it was within each other. If I wanted a quick lay, only to try and later justify it with marriage, I’d have found anyone else by now. But you’re more than that. You always have been. And I think you know that.”

Nikki’s heart swelled, which made her uncomfortable. She wasn’t an overtly emotional person, even for a budding actress, but there was something about Oscar that seemed to immediately bring that side out of her, especially when she wasn’t expecting it; especially when he spoke to her like that.

They met when she had had just come from an acting class across town. The class was free to join, but after two weeks if students wanted to continue, a monthly fee of $75 was demanded. She felt too prideful to ask her parent’s for money and there was no way in hell she was asking Vanessa or Maurice to fund her potential career, especially given the latter’s knack of asking for favors in return. So she strolled and trolled the city looking for a basic job with flexible hours that allowed her to not only study her craft on the side but practice it as well. Working as a barista gave her that ultimate opportunity.

It was only a few months of working together when both realized there was a mutual attraction. She didn’t want to like Oscar at first. He was older by seven years, well established and hadn’t any room for change. Not to mention, very married with children. But she couldn’t help but see how handsome he was and that he was smart, with a lot to offer the world. And he had a wide bank account, which she insisted never impressed her. Though she never hesitated to take money from him when it was offered on occasion for whatever she needed either, such as Vanessa’s lunch for the day. And from time to time, rent and personal items.

              Oscar was in the midst of contemplating divorce at the time. His wife was living bicoastal, given her career, and when he met Nikki, he had convinced himself that she was the answer to a long awaited prayer. She was excitable, and vibrant, and sexy. Her Spanish drove him absolutely insane (in a good way) and she was more than willing to try anything once, twice if she liked it and three times if she thought it was okay but didn’t hurt.

She was everything his wife hadn’t been in the last few years of their marriage and that seemed to excite Oscar more than anything else combined.

              Through admiration came love, and then came sex, and almost a baby. The moment Nikki realized she might become a mother, she was terrified straight down to her bones. She felt a baby was going to get in the way of her career, whenever it would come to her. She couldn’t risk it and decided to rid herself of what she deemed a potential problem without telling Oscar, or even Vanessa. The only person she could trust with the information was her other friend and roommate, Maurice, because she knew he would never ask questions or judge her for her actions. After taking her to and from a local clinic, he hid her away at his parent’s house for a few days while she feigned vacation at work and told Vanessa she was visiting her parent’s in Connecticut. The fear of losing Oscar or her best friend if they ever learned of it loomed heavily over her for a long time. But she learned to live with it, and herself, though the latter took some doing.

              Oscar moved in closer and placed his hands around her tiny waist.

She clasped her hands together and stared at his chest, contemplating their possible future together. She imagined a small wedding taking place in Central Park and smiled at the thought, and then she shook her head.

I’m nothing like Sheila
, she thought.
I’m not.

“So this is real,” she said, though it sounded more like a question.

“It’s always been real for me, Nikki. I’ve just been waiting for you to catch up.”

He leaned down to kiss her and she nearly fainted. As his tongue gradually moved against hers, she whimpered in pleasure, but pulled away.

“I’ve got to get back out there to Vanessa,” she replied, looking around the room as she began to feel dizzy. “She’s probably passed out at the table.”

“Max will take care of her,” he told her between deep kisses, “she’ll be fine.”

He lowered his hands to the back of her thighs, squeezing as he swiftly lifted her from the floor. She wrapped her legs around his waist and sank her fingers into the waves of his hair, reaching down for the buckle on his pants with her other hand. She gasped for air as he sank his tongue further into her mouth and lay her back on the desk.

Meanwhile, an increasingly annoyed Vanessa had been waiting in the same spot by the door for nearly an hour.

“Picking up a paycheck, my ass,” she said to herself.

When her phone began beeping uncontrollably, she looked down and saw her mother calling for the third time. She waited a few seconds, contemplating answering this time, and then hit the ignore button. She immediately dialed her assistant after, informing her that she went home sick and wouldn’t be returning for the remainder of the day.

“What about all of your appointments and meetings?” asked Samantha.

“Cancel them, all of them. I’ll have to reschedule things tomorrow. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet with anyone, but I can’t go back up there today. I wasn’t prepared for the kind of information I received in the mail this morning, and I’m going to need the rest of the day to get myself together.”

“Alright. Feel better.”

“Thanks.”

She slid the phone back into her pocket and glanced at her watch. She became frustrated realizing she was apparently going to waste the remainder of her day sitting inside a coffee shop on the other side of town. She thought about getting a cab but wondered what would be the use when Nikki would just chew her out for it later, and she wasn’t in the mood for more of anyone else’s bitching today.

She got up from the table and went over to the counter, looking over the items on the menu. From pumpkin and mint flavored biscotti’s to caramel-lemon-banana coffee cakes, she scrunched her face at nearly everything she saw.

“What kind of tea do you have here?” she asked Max.

He stopped wiping down the counter to look up at her. “We can make just about anything. The menu is a good indicator of what’s basic.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Basic is the only impression I’m getting from this thing. I’ve only had the coffee and no offense to you or the owner, but it’s terrible. I’ve made better on my cheap percolator at home.”

“I’ve never had the coffee here,” he whispered.

“Don’t.” She looked over the menu again and wavered. “I guess I’ll have lemon tea with honey in it.”

He rang her up and began fixing her tea. As she reached into her pocket for change, a quarter fell from between her fingers. She was about to pick it up when she noticed someone coming behind to snatch it up for her.

“Here ya go, shawty,” he said.

He was wearing a newsboy cap with a matching cream colored sweater that was not only more appropriate for fall, but also for the possible middle-aged son he had borrowed it from. He smiled at her, flashing the gold caps covering every single tooth inside his mouth. Had he walked through a metal detector, people would think he was nothing more than a walking, talking, goldmine. Which may have actually been accurate.

She rolled her eyes a little and took the quarter from his hand. “Thanks.” She handed Max a few dollars and her change, then moved aside.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Lil Mama. You ain’t got to move so fast.”

“I’m standing over here so that you can go ahead and make your own order.”

Fool
, she thought.

“Seemed like you was kinda runnin’ away,” he went on.

“I’ve got no place to run to, so…”

“Don’t I know you from some place? You lookin’ real recognizable to me.”

“Here you go,” Max interrupted, handing Vanessa the tea.

“Thank God.” She nodded at him and headed back for her chair in the corner. But the man swooped around in front, stopping her in her tracks. Startled, she nearly burnt her tongue after taking a sip of the tea. “What the hell?”

“Waz yo name is, shawty? I know I know you from some place.” He pointed at her, closing one eye as if it would make a difference in his vision, or hers. “You used to work at Chino’s Chicken Shack on West 95
th
?”

“No. Now please get the hell outta my face. If I wasn’t in the mood before, I damn for sure am not in one now.”

“Hole up fuh a minute, chill. Now maybe we got off on da wrong foot, and I sincerely apologize fuh dat, shawty. My name is Marcus.”

“I don’t care.”

“And yo name is?”

“Not going to be given.”

“Wait, wait. Hole on, hole on.” He pressed an index finger to his lips and shushed her.

She jerked her head back and frowned.

“I think we need to jus calm it down,” he said, “bring all the anger down to a none. You seem like you might be kina lonely. And maybe you might be lookin’ fuh a brotha like me?”

“One damn near close to social security if not already receiving it? I don’t think so.”

She tried stepping aside but he stopped her again.

“Wait, wait, wait, hole up, hole up, now.” He leaned down and opened his hands. “Don’t let the age and grey hairs fool ya.”

“I’m not, which is why I’m trying to walk away.” She moved aside but he stepped in front of her once more. “Listen, my man. I’m not interested in someone who probably went to high school with my dad or knows the exact route of the Underground Railroad, alright? So step off.”

“Hole on,” he said, becoming frustrated with her instant refusals. “Now listen” -- he looked her up and down -- “I’one know you, okay? We neva met.”

“Right--”

“But I saw you standin’ over here lookin’ mighty pretty in that tight red dress and thought maybe I could do a quick holla.”

“Holla this.” She raised her hand toward his face, palm out, fingers high.

He leaned back and widened his arms in feigned disappointment. “Aww, it’s like that?”

She stiffened. “Like what? I told you I’m not interested, more than once. What more do you want, a handwritten note?”

“You ain’t gotta be rude.”

“Men like you don’t know it any other way, so excuse the bitch inside but she’s been put on full display.”

“I’m just trying to talk to you,
dag
,” he said. “Maybe see whatchu about?”

“What I’m about is not being bothered and more importantly, feeling as if I’m wasting my time which you are doing too damn much of. So keep talking to my hand, because my ears aren’t interested in hearing it.”

He stepped back and opened his eyes so wide, they looked as if they were coming out of his face. “Dayum. I see you, shawty.”

“Yeah?” She tossed her hand toward his face again and walked back to her chair.

“Damn! You spicy as
HELL
! I like that.”

She sank back and covered her face. “Oh for the love--”

“Of a good man, cause this what I am, baby! A damn good man who can offer you the world.” He walked up to the table and pressed himself against the cornered edge. “And this on a platter, atcha every disposal.”

He directed his hand down toward the front of his pants and grinned wide, showing teeth and nodding his head so hard, Vanessa feared it would pop from his neck any second and land directly in her lap.

“Listen,” she started, “because you are clearly not hearing me, GrandDaddyFreakLikeMe97. Unless you want me to take this clean fork and stab you in the pants until you bleed all over this pristine floor, holding yourself and that garden snake in your sure to be filthy draws you’re trying to showcase for those with only a microscope handy, you’re gonna need to step the hell away from me and leave this place. Now am I making myself clear or do I need to actively demonstrate what I’m saying to you?”

He looked down at himself and slowly stepped back. Vanessa rested her chin in her hand and arched a brow, unrelenting. He nodded his head and looked up, closing his fist and smashing it into the palm of his other hand.