Authors: Eric Pete

Reality Check (3 page)

BOOK: Reality Check

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Glover

New state requirements, along with the plethora of new forms they entailed, had descended on the California Employment Development Department. We were sucking air. Charmaine was in charge of data entry and filing, so the day was wearing even on her usually upbeat, devil-may-care attitude. Mona was confirming employment searches of benefit recipients who sometimes creeped her out, and I was doing a little bit of everything. During our first break, we managed to chat some.

“Shred this one. Send these back. Retain these for five years,” Charmaine muttered. “Rules, rules, rules. These motherfuckers are gonna make me go postal in here.”

“And you’d be on lockdown so quick,” Mona replied while shuffling through the worn
Los Angeles Times
on the table.

“Lockdown? At a male prison, I would hope.”

“Please. No prison talk. Mona, we don’t need Charmaine’s graphic imagination going to her mouth.”

“Speaking of lockdown, you about to go away for a stretch with Mr. Moneybags?”

“If you’re referring to Lionel, Charmaine, we’re having lunch today.”

“What I’m referring to is whether Lionel’s going to make you an honest woman.”

“I’m as honest as they come already, girl. I don’t need some man to do that.”

“I heard that,” chimed in Mona. “Girl, let Glover do her thang.”

“Honestly, we really haven’t discussed the marriage issue that much. I mean, Lionel appears to be interested, but he’s not pressuring me.”
Much.
“I mean, he asked me to move in with him and quit my job, but—”

“Hold up! Quit your job?” Charmaine barked out loud enough for half the office to hear. My girl was flabbergasted. “And you haven’t skipped out on this place yet? Girl, I would have told everyone in here to kiss my white ass, especially Mr. Marx.”

Mr. Marx was the office supervisor, a Grinch of a man. Charmaine hated him with a passion but still needed her job, so she nervously looked around the break room to ensure he wasn’t within earshot.

“That’s why she’s with Lionel and you’re not, Charmaine,” Mona chimed defiantly. “Glover’s not weak and dependent like that.”

“Thank you, my sister!” I said with a high five, while Charmaine rolled her eyes and hummed the notes to Destiny’s Child’s “Independent Women.”

The lunchtime crowd at New Japan sushi bar in Little Tokyo was massive. Luckily, Lionel had told me their service was fast once you got in. His work schedule hadn’t permitted lunch together as frequently these days, so I was already in line when Lionel pulled up in his Audi. I watched as he casually flipped his keys to the valet, running up to give me a kiss.

“Any problems finding it?”

“Not with your directions, baby,” I answered, knowing lustful eyes of single women of many shades were upon him. Without missing a beat, he pulled me along, strolling to the head of the line, where he gained us immediate seating with a mere whisper of his name. Doors and obstacles were a minor inconvenience in this town for the Dunnings, as I had been quick to learn.

I was new to some of the stuff to which Lionel was exposing me, but that made every encounter an interesting experience.

I staked out the safe shrimp tempura lunch, while Lionel went with the raw salmon sushi and veggie rolls.

“You are looking good, woman. How’s your day going?” Lionel was giving me that look. Days be damned; he wanted to be sharing the night with me.

“It’s going. That’s about it. Busier than usual. I missed you last night after you left.”

“Really? Is that why you made me leave?” Lionel shifted to his innocent puppy dog look.

“You know how that goes, Lionel. Gotta keep you wanting more.”

“Oh, I want all right.”

Lionel had a little piece of veggie roll dangling from the corner of his mouth. I leaned over the table and removed it while stealing a juicy kiss. He was quick to accept the kiss, returning one of his own. A slight chill ran down my spine as memories of last night crept back into my consciousness. He was oh so good when oh so bad.

“Is that a new suit?” I asked, admiring the power suit, a single-breasted charcoal number with a white silk shirt and thin black tie. Definitely something my girl Mona would approve of, with her eye for fashion.

“Yeah, I picked it up last week. Antonini Loretta. You like?”

“It’s nice. I’m a little less into the European stuff, but Mona would give you kudos if she saw it.”

“How is Mona?” he asked; then added, “And Charmaine? They’re still carrying on at your office?”

“You know those two. Some things will never change. We’re supposed to be going out this weekend. Want to come? It would be fun.”

“Uh ...” He paused, thinking of an excuse. Men. “I would, but I have a presentation for the big boss next week and want to be sure it’s perfect. Want to come by my place tomorrow night?”

“Sure. I’m not spending the night, though.”

“I got it. Loud and clear. But I don’t see why you’re so hung up on that,” he scoffed.

The waitress came to our table to bring the check and to clean up.

“
Domo arigato gozaimasu
, Keiko,” said Lionel in her native tongue.

“Thank you, Mr. Dunning,” replied the waitress with just a hint of an accent as she gushed over him. She took his American Express card and left.

“Come here often?” I asked, slightly put off by her friendliness and Lionel’s eagerness to accept it. I tried to conceal my displeasure.

“Every now and then, since it is in the area. I meet some customers here for business sometimes. . . kind of like that time at Mariana’s.”

“Yep, I will never forget that. Is Mr. Brewster still your client?” I smiled as the memory of our first encounter returned.

“No.” Lionel chuckled. “Misha at the office has his account now. Remember her?”

“Oh, yeah. The Greek chick? Kinda eager-beaver? Really perky?”

“Yeah, that’s her,” he replied with amusement. “She’s actually running circles around some of our veterans at ol’ B and G. Shows initiative.”

“Probably not all she’s showing,” I snarked in a rare display of cattiness. “Cute young thang. That doesn’t hurt.”

“Haven’t really noticed that, Glover. Too busy thinking about this sexy young thing in front of me.”

“You always say the right things, Mr. Dunning,” I responded, erasing thoughts of fawning, eager co-workers from my mind.

Max

I was awakened from a deep, restful sleep by my T-shirt landing on the bed. “Good morning,” she said in a language with which she wasn’t fully comfortable.

Accent.

Loved that shit.

It was my new friend, the tall blonde from the Promenade in Santa Monica.

“Good morning to you too,” I replied, wishing I could speak her native tongue, impress her. Show her there was more to me than good conversation and good dick. But my sparse, broken Creole French learned at the two Fs—family reunions and funerals—would be embarrassing.

“Do you remember my name?”

“Velina,” I said slowly... deliberately, as she’d taught me last night in between drunken kisses. “Yes. Good. Very good.” She smiled. Velina and her friend, Kaylen, were grad students at USC. Things went off well with them. We all wound up back at my apartment, and they were polite enough while Smitty and I ran around cleaning up. We ordered out from the local pizza joint and watched a couple of pay-per-views.

Smitty was his usual crazy self, the life of the party, doing and saying whatever popped into his head. He had us literally falling over laughing while we played cards and finished off a couple of bottles of my finest discount wine. In spite of Smitty claiming “the tall one,” things started getting a little hectic between Velina and me as the night went on. A touching of hands, followed by a kiss stolen here and there.

Between laughs.

Between sentences.

At first.

To be honest, I was a little hesitant with the whole interracial thing. I had met some beautiful Chicanas and Filipinas since moving out here, but to me, that was different. It was all brown skin, some browner than mine. Although things were changing, there tended to be a little less “fraternization” between whites and blacks back in Lake Charles.

Old lines, formed by mistrust, failing to completely vanish.

As the little get-together began winding down, Velina was winding up. My reservations and misgivings faded as she filled me in on other parts of the world. Places where old school Western Europeans looked down upon immigrants from the former Soviet countries as if they were “niggers.”

Not her word, mine. The sentiment’s the same: people locking doors with fears of crime and newcomers taking their jobs. I could’ve used her in some of my classes. She was a curriculum of world history, sociology, and sex education all in one.

Kaylen, she of the “ass for days,” had decided that Smitty wasn’t going to be getting any of that ass. She was ready to go home, so I gave Smitty my keys, trusting him not to wreck my shit. Velina stayed over, as we decided to get better acquainted.

My supply of condoms came in handy that night as I immersed myself in Romanian. All of my impromptu cleaning was undone, as the bedroom became the scene of conflict.

East versus West.

Her pussy versus my dick.

Her tongue versus my mouth.

It was hot and passionate as we explored every delicious centimeter of one another, straining to breathe in between sessions.

“Mind if I use your shower, sleepyhead?” Velina was standing there buck-naked, a vivid reminder of what had ended only hours ago.

“Didn’t we use it already?” My exhausted ass was still trying to be smooth.

“McNeese? In Lake Charles, right?” Velina asked as she pointed to the shirt she had just discarded.

“What do you know about Lake Charles?”

“My uncle is a professor at LSU in Baton Rouge. That is the capital city in Louisiana near Lake Charles,
yes
?” Her accent thickened as her certainty diminished. Hot.

“Yep, you got it right. Small world.”

“It’s just L.A., Max. A town of transplants and travelers. Everybody winds up here. I guess you did too, huh?”

“Fo’ sho.” I chuckled with mock swagger.

“Care to join me in the shower?” She winked. “I have class today and have to run home first. So . . . I’ve got to get a move on.”

I was dead tired, but ego was coming into play. “Be right there,” I said as I went to scrub her back.

After our shower interlude, I walked Velina to her car, which was parked in front of my patio. We exchanged numbers and a couple of kisses before her RAV4 disappeared down Venice Boulevard toward the 405. I wondered deep down if either of us would be calling the other.

Glover

As promised, Lionel was waiting for me after work that Tuesday. I was to spend the evening with him. My Civic was still in the shop for warranty work, so I had been bumming a ride with Mona. Charmaine grinned when she saw Lionel’s Audi in the parking lot, and took off running past Mona and me.

“She really needs to stop. Really,” Mona said, staring at the cloud of dust kicked up by Charmaine as she beat a path to Lionel’s car.

“You know how she is,” I replied. “Always full steam ahead. That’s why we love her.”

“Love? Sometimes I’d love to strangle her,” said Mona, allowing a chuckle to escape her pursed lips.

Charmaine stopped at his window. He lowered it with a smile that revealed those pretty teeth.

“Hey, Lionel.”

“Hello, Charmaine. How are you?”

“Fine. Look at you, all spiffy and shit.”

Not knowing how to respond, he just nodded and continued to smile.

“You know I’m mad at you, right?”

“What did I do?” he asked.

“You haven’t hooked me up with one of your boys. What’s up with that?” she blasted.

“Well,” he sighed, “most of my boys are already involved, and—”

“Okay! Okay! I know! I know! And I understand.”

“You do?”

“Really, I do. You just don’t want this white girl turning them out. But enough of that. When’s the big day? You can’t keep my girl over there waiting and stuff.” Good ol’ Charmaine. She was always good for the occasional embarrassing situation.

That was my cue to save Lionel and end this. I entered Lionel’s car from the passenger side and gave him a quick kiss. “All right, Charmaine. Behave yourself,” I said, leaning across Lionel’s lap. Part of me wondered what my motives were for saving Lionel from her question. Was I avoiding the issue myself?

“Mona, how’ve you been?” Lionel asked as she appeared over Charmaine’s shoulder.

“I’ve been doing fine, Mr. Dunning,” said Mona in her usual crisp clip, her sophistication showing through.

“Ms. McDaniel, will you need a ride to work in the morning?” Mona, being messy in her own unique way, was wearing a dry smile.

Lionel’s eyes focused on me. He waited to see if I planned on spending the night with him or if I was going home as usual.

“I’ll call you later, Mona,” I answered abruptly. “Y’all are too much.”

Lionel waved at the smiling pair of Cheshire cats before we made our escape.

With everyone pouring onto all arteries away from downtown L.A., traffic was jammed up as we headed for the Santa Monica Freeway. Lionel tuned his satellite radio to one of his preset talk channels, always needing information. I hated talk radio.

“Your friends are a wild bunch,” he joked, switching stations for my convenience. “I don’t think I’d get any work done with those two in my office.”

“Yeah. They can carry on at times, especially Charmaine. But they take care of business too.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so. But enough talk about work. Where are we gonna eat?”

I kicked my shoes off to his amusement. As I stretched, my skirt slid slightly up my legs. Lionel tried to play it off, but I saw his eyes locked on my thighs.

“Don’t wreck,” I said playfully. “It would take forever for a tow truck to come out in this traffic.”

We exited I-10 at La Brea Avenue and made the trip north to my apartment on San Vicente. I had Lionel park his Audi in my parking spot, which was vacant due to my car troubles.

He waited patiently in my living room while I hunted up some warm-ups to wear. While I changed, he loosened up too, removing his tie and shirt. The sight of him in his slacks and undershirt was appealing in a rugged sort of way, but I didn’t dwell on it, as we had places to be.

We left for Lionel’s house in the Hollywood Hills, skipping the 101 to avoid the traffic, and taking Cahuenga Boulevard north instead. We picked up a quick meal, the shrimp fettuccini dinner with garlic bread and two small salads, which we ordered in the drive-thru at Pasta Ta Go. Even with the stop, it only took thirty minutes to get from my apartment to Lionel’s neighborhood, but what a difference it was between the two locations.

Lionel lived in an elegant Spanish-style home nestled in the neighborhoods off Franklin Avenue. Most of the homes were in the high six-figure range, and his was no exception. The walled spread oozed of romance, with its aged oak floors, majestic fireplace, and humongous walk-in closet.

Okay.

The closet wasn’t romantic, but it did make moving in with Lionel a very appealing proposal. A woman needs her closet space.

We pulled in past the gate and drove under the carport. Lionel unloaded his papers, laptop, and briefcase from the car while I carried the dinner. While Lionel stowed his stuff, I set the dinner at the kitchen table. I fished a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon from the cooler and some wineglasses from the cabinet.

Lionel had snuck back downstairs, piping in some Nina Simone over the speakers mounted in the walls throughout the house.

“You are an angel,” he stated upon entering the kitchen and admiring the set-up. He wore his old college fraternity T-shirt and a pair of shorts.

“I am, aren’t I? Ready to eat?”

“Yep. I’m starving.”

Over dinner, we went over the day’s happenings and unwound at the kitchen table. Lionel had a gallon of cookies and cream in the freezer, and we shared a bowl for dessert.

After stuffing ourselves, we retired to Lionel’s bedroom upstairs with the remainder of the wine. As he held our glasses, I seductively stripped for him, leaving my clothes on the bedroom floor. He bit on my neck before I broke away, entering the bathroom where the soulful jazz music had followed us. Lionel watched the waiting suds of the garden tub accept my legs first before completely obscuring all the naughty parts from him. As I slipped deeper into bubbly bliss, Lionel flipped the switch to the whirlpool jets.

“Mmm,” I hummed along with the amazing vibrations. “This feels so good.”

“Ready to call Mona? Before it gets too late?” Lionel had ditched his clothes, allowing me a view of his delicious ebony physique before it disappeared beneath the stirring waters too.

“I’ll call in a little bit. Besides ... I don’t know yet. I may go home tonight.”

He waded through the bubbles of the custom-made oversized tub, closer to me. “You know what I’ve been thinking?” he asked. I couldn’t tell if the odd look on his face was from the wine.

“No. What?”

“We haven’t taken a trip in a while, so I was thinking. Do you feel like some fun?”

“Of course. I’m always down for fun. Especially with you. What’s up?”

“Nothing. I’ll let you know more next week.”

“Next week?” I cracked open one eye, breaking from my relaxation. “What are you up to?” I asked, suspecting this carrot was dangled to get me to stay the night.

“Be patient. You’ll see. Next week.”

“Why can’t you tell me now?”

“Shhhh. Don’t you worry your pretty little head. Now close your eyes. And relax.”

I did as he suggested. At that point, I felt Lionel shift in the tub. He placed his powerful hands under my ass, bobbing my pelvis slightly in the water. I struggled to balance myself before he steadied me.

“Relax, baby,” he said again. “I got you. Just trust me.”

As his head descended into the whirling water between my thighs, I parted. I felt his lips as they softly grazed my mound.

Waves of water, waves of pleasure.

“So ... so good,” I muttered. “Don’t stop.”

As my eyes rolled back in my head and I began thrashing about, I knew I would not be going home this night.

BOOK: Reality Check

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