The Charade (18 page)

“You think anybody missed us?” he asked.

“Everyone’s too drunk to know we’re gone,” I said. We both laughed.

“Okay, this is where I think I leave the party. I have to do a lot more ass-kissing tonight. Go on home.”

“Okay, babe. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

***

The night was too racy for my taste. Hopefully I wouldn’t need blood pressure medication. After a long, hot bath and a cup of peppermint tea, I wiggled under the covers. I wrestled to each opposite end of the bed, unable to clear my thoughts and drift into my much needed slumber. Too much drama was never my forte; but lately it seemed to follow me wherever I went. After downloading a night-sounds app on my phone and placing the setting on an icon marked waves, I finally settled in. My body sunk into the mattress as sounds of tides faintly filled the room.

Not even a moment before I finally drifted off, tires screeched in the parking lot. Drunken college kids. I didn’t dare interrupt my descent into slumber to see what kind of fracas was happening outside my window.

Something crashed and broke into pieces, flower pot maybe. It would go away in a few moments – I hoped. I just needed some shut-eye. Could I just have that? Not even eight hours; just a few.

A car door slammed shut and the car alarm made a chirp. The dog in the apartment next door began to bark up a storm.

My body jolted when a fist repeatedly pounded against my door.

I grabbed the baseball bat in the corner and headed to the door. I gingerly pressed my eye to the peephole.

It was Victor.

I dropped the bat and opened the door. The look on his face told the story: sunken, weary, and pale.

It made me uneasy.

He stood there helpless. His feet stuttered back and forth, like he was walking a tight rope. The top three buttons on his shirt were loose.

His mouth parted halfway. The hurt in his eyes wanted to pour out like a tidal wave, but there were no tears, just bloodshot eyes. He appeared to want to say a million and one words, but none came out.

“Victor,” I said rubbing my half-open eyes. “Do you know how late it is?”

“There was…no one I could go to but you,” he said. His voice was gravely. To say he was under the influence of something would be too obvious.

“Is something wrong?”

“My life.” He chuckled. “Can I come in?” I hesitated.

“You just can’t pop over my house like this. I thought I told you about that.”

“Listen, I-I was just in the area and I had too much to drink. I couldn’t have made it home.”

“You should’ve called a cab.”

“But, I’m
here
now. Can I stay here? Just on the couch.”

It was a bad idea. If I let him turn away and drive off into the night by himself, inside of whatever thoughts were racing in his head and I woke up the next day hearing something happened to him, I couldn’t live with myself.

I let him inside.

I prayed Tyson didn’t decide to pop over unannounced. Victor walked staggered inside.

I went to the closet and tosses a blanket and a pillow on the couch. “If you try and creep into my bed, I’m kicking you out of my apartment.”

“You got a boyfriend or something?

“Goodnight Victor.” I stumbled back to my room and fell on the bed like a ton a bricks.

After about an hour, I felt his body creep up on the bed next to me.

His hand slithered up my leg and rested on my hip. My eyes sprang open. Victor inched closer and pecked his lips on my exposed shoulder. I shot up out of bed. “No,” I said defiantly. “You have to leave.” I pointed towards the door.

“Am I a stranger now?” The grogginess in his voice mixed heavily with his slurring.

“Yes. You are. I allowed you to come in here and sleep and that’s it.”

“Natasha.” He reached over to grab my thigh and I tensed away. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“I can’t help you anymore. You have to go.” My voice wavered. Having him stay in my bed would be a grand mistake. Old feelings would come to the surface. Feelings that I wanted behind me. Feelings that I wanted buried. Feelings that could only be buried with time. I got to the point where I could be around him physically and not have any feelings to have him.

“So you’re just gonna let me go behind the wheel? Like this?”

I planted my palms on waist and pointed my finger to the door again. “I’ll call you a cab.”

He got up and grabbed his keys and slammed the door behind him.

I didn’t get an ounce of sleep for the rest of the night.

An hour later, right before Mister Dream Merchant was going to take me on a magic carpet right to slumber, Victor called me. I didn’t bother to answer, but I did listen to the voice mail:

Hey. I just wanted to apologize about how I acted. And for presenting myself in such of an un-gentlemanlike manner. I know we haven’t been on much good footing lately. Okay, we haven’t been on good footing since we met. I think you’re a great girl. And you don’t deserve that kind of treatment from me. Or anyone for that matter. I’m just in a dark place…for the first time in my life. And I’m having trouble coping. I don’t have many friends. Many people I could turn to. Except you. I was wrong. Look, seeing that you and I were only sexual, I don’t want to burden you with my troubles. Hopefully, I’ll talk to you soon. Sober next time. Thanks again for letting me crash. Even if it was for a short time. Goodnight, Natasha.

I pushed nine on my dialpad to save the message.

***

The next day, I sat in the break room at the office finishing up lunch. “Tyson just storm into his office,” Linda said rushing over to me. I put my Tupperware into my lunch bag and followed her to our department. “I don’t know what the hell happened, but he looked mad as all get out and slammed the door behind him.”

“I wonder what happened,” I said.

“I don’t know, but whatever it was, it must’ve been serious. He’s always a marshmallow. Never angry.”

My mind churned at what it could have been. I found the answer when Victor made his way into Tyson’s office. He strode so fast that his tie flew behind him. He quietly closed the door.

“This just got
really
good,” Linda said pouring whiskey into her coffee.

“Oh no. He didn’t get it,” I said under my breath.

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” I said observing the shouting match between the two. Honestly it kind of turned me on; two men in the heat of battle. Deep down I wished they fought over me. No one could make out what was being said. The whole side of the office watched in awe.

The both of their hands flew in every direction. Spittle flew out of their mouths. Faces contorted in anger. Every head on my side of the office was frozen towards the office.

Tyson furiously swiped his hand and a cup holder of pens and a stack of paper flew off the desk. The fan in the corner oscillated left and right, blowing papers around the room. The shouting continued. Veins protruded from Victor’s neck.

Ten seconds more and they would have definitely came to blows. I would’ve rushed in to break it up, but then Victor stormed out. His face was flushed. He strode back towards the elevator, fixing his navy blue necktie.

“Everybody get back to work,” he shouted. “Now.”

He never stopped to glance at any of us. Everyone scrambled to their desks like hyenas. I looked at Tyson. He looked disheveled and frustrated. He stroked his chin softly, never looking outside at us. His gaze stayed towards his desk.

***

“I’m going to quit,” he said pacing back and forth in his living room. Each time he paced to one wall, an article of clothing was on the floor: first his watch, then his tie, and then his dress shirt. He wore a black tank top. He dropped down to the floor and effortlessly knocked out fifty pushups.

“What?” I asked. My eyes bugged in shock. “You can’t quit. That place would fall apart if you weren’t there.”

“If they
needed
me, I would’ve gotten the promotion. I can’t believe they’re going to give it to someone outside the company.” He tore off his tank and chucked it against the bookshelf. All of the machismo, angst, anger, and animosity turned me on.

“That place wouldn’t be the same without you. They need you. I need you.”

“You know your job inside and out. You wont miss a beat.”

“Why didn’t they hire you? I thought you were a shoe-in.”

“So did I. They wanted new blood. Someone with
ob-jec-tiv-ity
. Someone from outside the company.”

“Victor made a huge mistake.”

“I gave everything I had to place. I stayed late. Came in early. Came in on Sundays. There was no more of a dedicated employee than me. If we weren’t at that office in front of all those people-” He pounded his fist in his palm, making a loud
smack.

“It’s their loss, baby.” He sat down next to me, still in total shock. “Here,” I said taking his hand, “let me take care of you.” I turned his body away from me and kneaded his lower neck, his deltoids, and then to the muscular folds on his upper back. He lowered his neck and absorbed the relaxation.

“You’re so good to me, Tiny.” I smiled and continued to massage. “Maybe it is best for me to stay. Give me some time to figure things out.”

I got up and lit a few candles in the living room, the bedroom and the bathroom. I went to the tub and drew a bath for him. I poured scented oils in the steamy water and turned on the mp3 player which belted out soft, soothing tunes. When he came out the bathroom thirty minutes later, he was a changed man. His voice was deeper, softer, and measured.

“That was amazing,” he said sauntering towards the bed where I lay. “I feel like a brand new man. I’m so glad you’re here. You know how to treat me good. You always did.”

“That’s right,” I pecked the skin of mocha brown cheek. “You’re a good guy. You deserve it.”

“Right now, there aren’t many people I can trust. I’m happy that one of them is here. By my side.”

“It’s where I belong.”

“Could you imagine if we would’ve gotten together, where we’d be now?” That question would echo through my mind the entire night. “You know what? I know we talked about going up north next month, but let’s go this weekend.” Tyson’s family had a house up north and we tossed around the idea of going – but work always quelled the thought. “Quick little getaway. Escape from the madness.”

“Count me in,” I said.

“Tomorrow it is.”

Chapter 13

I woke up at nine and finished packing my things. I was excited. I loved going up north. Nothing could wipe the smile from my face. Except the fact that Tyson spent most of the trip on the phone discussing work with a client. I sat in the passenger seat playing a game on my cell phone.

He placed a hand on my knee to let me know he still acknowledged my existence and I feigned a smile. Would this be what life would resemble when we got older? Trips to theme parks and I take the wheel navigating the mini-van, two runny-nosed, screaming children buckled up in the backseat and Tyson secluded from the madness, discussing mergers and stocks going belly up.

It was only a five-hour trip, but it felt like ten.

My eyes lay outside of the window for much of the ride. The two-lane highway resembled my relationships: empty, winding, desolate, and headed nowhere fast.

By the time we arrived at the house, five hours of my patience being pushed to the limit almost broke my temperament. When we finally got off the exit into town, he apologized for what seemed a thousand times.

“You just better make it up to me,” I said. I laughed nervously but I meant it. He talked this weekend up so much it was bound to be a disappointment.

“Don’t worry,” he said. A look of child-like mischief spread onto his face. “You won’t be disappointed.”

The smell of pinecones and firewood buzzed my nostrils as we pulled into the driveway of the house. There were several houses on the block. I didn’t see any other cars or kids in the front lawn playing in the leaves. I didn’t see any stacks of smoke twirling into the crisp fall air. We were the only ones on the block.

Crisp leaves rustled from the backyard into the driveway on top of my feet. Wings flapped over our heads into the brisk autumn air. I heard the crunchy, tip-toeing sound of some small, probably cute, creature tip-toeing behind us. I turned around to see where it was, but it hid itself among the dark, forest-green needles and ash-colored fallen branches.

All were familiar sounds to me. It was the sound of getting away. Away from fax machines, deadlines, and unruly coworkers.

My uncle had a house up north too. Before he sold it, when I was thirteen, we would come up every Fourth of July and stay the week. Then right before it got too cold in the fall, we’d pick a weekend in October or November and come up. It would be right when all the autumn colors where at full bloom: scarlet reds, burnt orange, and saturated yellows danced around the thinning blades of grass. The smell of hickory was in the air. I preferred coming in the fall over the summer – there weren’t any mosquitoes.

“It’s pretty sweet isn’t it?” he asked me. He stood at the doorway with a proud demeanor, sticking his chest out.

“It’s amazing,” I said. My eyes scanned the expansive room with delight. It was a far cry from Uncle Adam’s creaky, log cabin. Tyson gave me a quick tour.

“It used to be a small shack when I used to come up here as a kid, but-”

“It’s huge,” I said interrupting him. My hands streaked across the quartz counter top in the kitchen.

“I’ll be back, I’m going to grab our things from the car. Take a look around the place.” He winked at me and started towards the garage.

My eyes were drawn to the huge fireplace. It was empty. Tyson would have to go buy some or chop a few out in the backyard. I imagined him splitting oak in half with an axe, his body sweaty and his muscles taut. Then coming inside and taking me there right on the floor in front of the small blaze. Just thinking about it made me squirm. I glanced at the bookshelf right next to it. It was vast. He came from a family of voracious readers.

Magazines from the summer of 2013 scattered across the coffee table. The smell of memories filled the place. On the mantle of the fireplace, there were several trophies from a softball league. Petoskey Softball Summer League MVP – 2001, 2000, and 1997. I envisioned a young Tyson and his father playing catch in the backyard, while his mother and younger sister prepared something hearty in the kitchen. I saw Charles, Tyson’s father, tipsy from a couple glasses of cognac, gathering the family around the fire after dinner and reading them African folktales. Henrietta, Tyson’s sister probably was annoyed and wanted to play Monopoly. I pictured Tyson, bright-eyed, legs crossed, hanging from every line his father read, soaking up the stories on end. I saw Tyson chasing his little sister down the stairs, like a child gone mad. I heard the echo of their mother telling them to hush up while she was busy, curled up on the couch, sipping earl grey tea, and reading her whodunit novels.

After I went upstairs and unpacked my things, I decided to hit the store grab a few groceries for dinner. I hadn’t been upstairs for ten minutes and Tyson was on the phone again. “Do you want to go into town and grab a few things at the market for dinner?” I said. He waived his hand back and forth in front of his neck. “Do you want anything?” He didn’t respond.

I yanked the car keys off the table and slammed the garage door behind me. I bet he didn’t bother to turn around after the door made a thud.

***

There was only one market in town. It was cute and quaint. I’m sure the employees knew each shopper by their first name. One of those places where they asked you if you enjoyed last Sunday’s sermon while they cut your slab of ribs or weighed your ground chuck for you. I grabbed two bottles of malbec, a couple of pre-packaged ribeye steaks, and a few veggies for a salad. A few eyeballs followed me around the store. I’m sure they realized I didn’t live there as soon as I walked in. Eyeballing soon turned to warm smiles as I walked to the isle to check out.

A woman with a nice, huge coffee-stained grin greeted me and started scanning my items. “How are you doing tonight sweetie?” she asked.

“I’m doing well, thanks for asking,” I said. My voice lowered to a murmur. “Seems like you’re the only person who cared to ask.”

“I’m sorry?” She looked quizzical.

“Nothing.” I shook my head. “You guys were all out of vodka. Is there a convenience store around here somewhere?” Wine wouldn’t do. If Tyson was going to be conducting business, I’d be looking to do some of my own – of the eighty proof variety.

“Sure. Petoskey Liquors. Corner of Church and Miller. There’s a strip mall. Right in the middle. You miss it, you got rocks for brains. Only mall we got.”

***

I pulled into the parking lot of the strip mall. There was a cake shop, a dog grooming service, a coffee shop, and a lingerie store next to Petoskey Liquors. I scrunched my face. Why would such a small town have a lingerie shop? Most of the small towns I came across only had churches and gun shops.

I grabbed two fifths of a premium vodka I’d never tried before. One was peach flavored; the other cherry. It’d be a long weekend. I had no cell service, no television, and my boyfriend was more interested in his work than working on me.

I shifted my car in reverse when the red, neon sign of the lingerie shop peeked at me out of the corner of my eye. Aside from the convenience store, it was the only shop open in the mall.

I sat and stared at all the outfits displayed in its window. I pondered how sexy they’d look on me. The one getup in purple and black lace would make my tits pop. It would be sure to make him harder than granite as soon as he saw me in it.

I hated going into those stores. I always hoped I wouldn’t run into anyone I saw. That wouldn’t happen; I was hundreds of miles away. A small swarm of mosquitoes banged against the sign; they were attracted to it as much as I was.

I went in to the store, tried it on and it fit. And to my shock, I looked damn good in it. An amazing outfit was my weakness. I swiped my credit card and was back at the house in thirty minutes.

He was still on the phone. I had to have been gone no more than an hour and a half. I stomped up the stairs with the outfit under my arm and my fingers coiled the peach vodka. If Tyson wasn’t going to pay any attention to me – I’d
make
him.

After downing a few swigs, the plan was all set. The vodka loosened me up. I slipped into the outfit, resembling a hot, sexed up panther, thirsty for chocolate flesh between my teeth.

I tried out different poses in the mirror. I had to give up to myself. I looked good - damn good.

I sauntered downstairs. Tyson sat down at a desk overlooking the lake. Night had fallen. At least he wasn’t on the phone, but he was pecking away on a laptop. My black heels striking the wooden steps weren’t enough to deter him from his drudgery.

I galloped towards him slowly, poking my boobs out, hoping at any moment he would turn around and be delighted at what stood before him. But he never did. So entrenched in thought, he didn’t notice my presence. I lifted my foot up and planted my heel on the coffee table. He finally turned around. I spread my legs out. His eyes began a syrupy trail from the top of my heels up to my inviting eyes.

Finally, he fell into my web.

“You like what you see?” I said, taunting him. His head nodding slightly was his reply. “Then follow me upstairs.”

We kissed from the stairway into to the bedroom, knocking picture frames on the walls along the way. I pushed him onto the edge of the bed.

I pulled his boxers down his ripping quadriceps.

“This is just an appetizer. If you’re good, you might get the main course.”

“What if my mouth is watering and I can’t wait for the main course?”

“Oh don’t worry sweetheart, we got all night.”

His head fell back in a burst of delight. As my lips closed on his moist head, Tyson’s phone rang. We both looked at his jeans lying next to the closet. The denim muffled the sound of the ringing. He wanted to answer the phone – his face was colored with intent. He knew better. I looked up at him. He looked at me. Then the ringing stopped. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. It rang again.

“Baby, I
have
to take it.”

“Then take it.”

With no reluctance, he answered the phone. I grabbed my robe out of the closet and darted down the stairs. I got down halfway and then rushed back into the bedroom. I forgot to grab the vodka.

I took a swig as I plopped down each step. I hurried back up and grabbed a pillow and a blanket from the closet. He looked at me, confused about my rumblings. I bolted back downstairs with the bottle, the pillow, and the blanket and threw them on the couch.

It’s where he would sleep.

I didn’t speak to him at all the next day.

***

Or the next day. Even the day after that. I didn’t respond to his texts until Wednesday night. I reminded him that Thursday was my birthday and of the plans.

It was ten after ten at Little Tree Sushi Bar. Chandra, my cousin Casey, Barbara, and a few other of my girlfriends laughed, drank wine, and ate an assortment of rolls and nigiri.

I was dressed to kill. I wore a black, strapless dress and scarlet pumps. I bought them six months ago on a girl’s trip to Chicago. I waited for the perfect occasion to wear them and my birthday seemed like the right time. I wanted to look hot for Tyson, even if I still wasn’t speaking to him.

The night was a blast except for Tyson not showing up. I clock-watched the entire night. I sipped a glass of wine – I looked at the time on my phone. We did a shot of tequila – I looked at my phone. The server came to bring out the seaweed salad – I looked at my phone.

Tyson promised he’d only be twenty minutes late. He had a business meeting entertaining clients from Ethiopia. They were one of Stellar’s biggest clients. He said he’d have a short dinner with them tonight, show them the office, and he’d make it right after the appetizers arrived. More asses to kiss instead of mine. Twenty minutes, tops, he said.

He promised. For every text I sent him, he replied twenty-five minutes later saying he’d be there soon.

Soon never came.

I felt like shit every time my girls asked me where Tyson was. For some of them, it would have been their first time meeting him. I didn’t know what made me more excited; the fact it was my birthday or being able to introduce Tyson to them. Even though I liked him, I still wanted their approval.

Needless to say, a damper was put on the evening. They all consoled me as much as they could and I brushed it off – saying he had a big meeting he couldn’t miss. He was a company man, I said. I lied, saying he and I would celebrate the next day. I excused myself to the bathroom and cried in the stall.

As each one of my friends left, they all hugged me, chastising Tyson. All the drinks and plates were cleared by our server. A pair of chopsticks and a half empty glass of water with lemon rested on the table. All the ice melted. I still believed he’d make it.

“It was an important meeting,” I said to Chandra. “Clients from East Africa. One of our biggest clients. It was a pretty big deal. He couldn’t miss it. I’m not upset.”

“You know, when you lie, you scrunch your nose up. Dead giveaway,” Chandra said.

“I’m not lying.” I was sure my nose was scrunching.

“Bitch, please. Your new boyfriend missing your birthday. Stop it.” She placed her hand on my knee. “Go home, throw on The Notebook and cry your eyes out.” I laughed. “When you see him, slap the shit out of him.”

“I’m a big girl. It’s not a huge deal.” I shook my head. When it came to my girlfriends, I was a terrible liar. “I’m not eight years old and daddy promised was coming to my party. I’m not crying on my bed with a party hat on running to my window every time I see headlights.” Chandra sat and looked at me, knowing I fed her a dose of baloney. “He doesn’t work at a donut shop, you know.”