Groove Page 7

  “Dancing?” I said. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone out dancing. Could I still do it? I pondered the question for a moment, thinking out every embarrassing scenario that could possibly happen to me on a dance floor.

  “Well, I don’t know . . .”

  “What don’t you know? Are you tired?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want this evening to end right now?” he asked. He seemed to be daring me to say yes.

  “N-no?” I said, not quite understanding his game.

  “Well, then, that must mean you want to go dancing. Right?”

  “I guess that’s what it means.” I didn’t know if I appreciated the way he’d just handled that.

  We ended up at a club called the Pulse on the East Side. The line of men and women stretched down the block and around the corner. People stood chatting and rubbing their hands together, trying to keep warm while they waited. They were all black except for the standard sprinkling of whites and Asians sporting dreadlocks and nipple rings.

  We moved past the people and walked right up to the front door.

  “Hey, Mr. Greene, how have you been?” the bouncer, a tall black man with a bald head and two diamond studs in his nose, greeted him. As they shook hands, he threw me an approving glance and then smiled.

  “Fine, Jim, just fine,” Kendrick replied as Jim stepped aside and opened the door for us.

  “Who the hell are they?” someone yelled out from the pack of people behind us.

  We checked our coats with a woman who I wasn’t sure was really a woman and then squeezed our way through the bumping and grinding mass of people.

  “Is this a Jamaican club?” I yelled above the music to Kendrick.

  “This is a Caribbean club—they play music from all the islands,” he yelled back over the noise. “In fact, it’s white-owned,” he added as he raised his hand to get the bartender’s attention.

  “What’s this?” I asked as he handed me a brown bottle.

  “Banks Beer, the national beer of Barbados.” He tilted his bottle to his lips and drained it in less than thirty seconds. I looked at him and then the bottle. I didn’t drink beer and felt I had had too much alcohol that evening already.

  Just as I was about to share that piece of information with Kendrick, someone bumped into me and my bottle went flying through the air. It hit the floor with a crash that could not be heard above the thumping music, but some people had seen it coming and jumped out of its path, avoiding the impact.

  “Oh, shit,” I said and waited for the woman in the sequined red dress whom the beer had splattered on to come storming at me. She didn’t—she looked at the large wet stain spreading on the side of her thigh and then at me. She seemed about to say something, but then the DJ changed the song and all the people around her began jumping up and down and waving colorful handkerchiefs in the air. She got caught up in the frenzy and the crowd closed in around her.

  I was still recovering when Kendrick grabbed my wrist and dragged me through the crowd and onto the dance floor. If it wasn’t for his strong grip, I would have been caught like a fish in the net of people that hardly opened up to let us through.

  The dance floor was packed. I couldn’t see how another body would be able to fit, but Kendrick made space and began jumping up and down with the rest of the crowd. I stood before him, watching this man and his massive bulk jump up and down and sing along to the words of a song that I couldn’t understand. Sweat poured down his face and soaked through his cream silk shirt.

  “C’mon, jump!” he screamed over the music. “Jump!”

  The floor was alive beneath me. I got up on my toes and gave a little hop, which made Kendrick laugh and grab me around my waist. “Jump, girl, jump!” he said and began lifting me from the floor. I was embarrassed and looked around to see if anyone was watching. No one was paying us any mind; they were all caught up in the music.

  I began jumping, small jumps that barely made my behind jiggle, until finally I decided to hell with everything and began jumping so hard and so high that I jumped right out of my stilettos.

  Four hours later we stumbled out onto the sidewalk, breathless and soaking wet.

  “Did you have a good time?” Kendrick asked as we sat shivering in his Mercedes, waiting for the heat to fill the cold space.

  “Wonderful,” I said while trying to stifle a yawn. My hair was a damp mop on my head and I didn’t even want to think about what my face looked like.

  “Don’t tell me you’re tired,” Kendrick teased. I turned a sleepy eye in his direction. Where did this man get his energy from?

  “I was going to take you to this other club I know about . . . they are just beginning to really get started,” he said as he revved the engine.

  “You’re not serious, are you?” I asked, fearful that he might be.

  “Naw,” he said with a laugh. “How about breakfast?”

  I heard my bed calling me, but I ignored it.

  “Okay,” I said as we did fifty down the street.

  We ended up at this all-night spot uptown. The place was run-down, but the chicken and waffles we feasted on were out of this world.

  The sun was coming up as Kendrick told me a little more about himself.

  “My father let me do whatever it was I showed an interest in. Soccer, tennis, football. Piano, guitar, whatever,” he said and drained his coffee cup.

  “You were a lucky kid. My parents couldn’t afford to pay for anything like that. I wasn’t even a Girl Scout,” I said, surprised at the bitterness in my voice.

  When we finally made it to my apartment building, the early-morning dog walkers and joggers were already on the street.

  “Ms. Atkins, it was an enchanting evening,” Kendrick said before lifting my hand and kissing it. He didn’t kiss the back of my hand; he kissed my palm. It was a long, seductive kiss that melted my insides.

  “Goodbye, Ms. Atkins. Sleep well.”

  I could hardly speak. “Goodbye,” I whispered in a weak, trembling voice. I fought the urge to invite him up and into my bed. “Goodbye,” I said again, a bit louder this time.

  He waited until I stepped into the building before pulling away, and at the sound of his tires screeching against the blacktop, I panicked and realized that he hadn’t said he would call me. In fact, he hadn’t even asked for my number!

  The sleep my body was craving wouldn’t allow me to dwell on it for too long. I turned the ringer off on the phone and fell fully dressed into my bed, where I remained until the loud buzzing of the doorbell woke me up at three o’clock.

  “Ms. Atkins, you have a package here,” the doorman’s gruff voice announced over the intercom.

  “Would you send it up, please?” I said as my brain pounded inside my skull. A few seconds later I opened the door and was presented with a large gold-wrapped gift box. “Just a minute,” I said to the doorman as I went to get my purse. I thanked him after tipping him five dollars for his trouble.

  It ’s not my birthday, I thought as I placed the box on top of the living room table. There was no card attached. I quickly undid the wrapping, being careful not to rip it up. When I lifted the top the first thing I saw was a white silk rose, and beneath it were two cashmere sweaters, one black and one red. I started grinning like an idiot.

  I removed the sweaters, and at the bottom of the box was a blue and white Totes umbrella and a white card:

  I had a wonderful evening . . . I hope we can do it again—soon. Thank God for rainy days.

  Kendrick

  I smiled and did a jig in the middle of my living room. I had fallen in love in less than twenty-four hours.

  That was two years ago, and while he still managed to excite me and I believed more than ever that I loved him, I had the nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right, that maybe Kendrick Greene wasn’t my soul mate, my black knight in shining armor.

  I couldn’t shake the feeling, so I just exerted extra effort toward ignoring it.

 
; Ten

  You spoil me so, Zhan,” I purred when Zhan kissed the small of my back to let me know that my massage is over.

  “Did you enjoy that?” he asked as I turned over on the massage table. I didn’t answer, but I gave him a satisfied smile. He bent and gave me a soft kiss on the mouth.

  We were in his London flat, which was located on Cheval Place, an exclusive address in the Knightsbridge section of London.

  I turned my head and looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows. It had rained every day since I’d gotten there, and today was no exception.

  “You know I love touching your body, love,” Zhan said and bent to kiss me again.

  “You have magic hands,” I murmured and eased myself up and onto my elbows. Zhan’s penis was rock hard, and so was mine. I bent my head and kissed the tip of his dick.

  “Oooooh,” he moaned and his hands came up and began to stroke my face.

  I thought, I am the luckiest man alive. Fab job, wonderful man, money in the bank. Healthy and good-looking. What more can a man ask for?

  A woman!

  The voice came out of nowhere, and I jerked my head back. “What did you say?” I asked Zhan, my eyes bulging.

  Zhan’s hazel eyes were glazed over with pleasure, and he gave me a sexy look. “I didn’t say a word,” he whispered and tried to guide my head back down to his dick.

  My eyes moved around the room. I am going crazy, I thought.

  “Baby, I think you’re still jet lagged,” he muttered and then moaned as my lips wrapped around the thick head of his member.

  Yes, maybe I am, I thought, and swallowed him whole.

  Zhan is a late sleeper. But me, I’m up with the sun. I can’t spend the whole morning in bed, even if it is with the man I love. So I got up and out, walking the streets of Knightsbridge, enjoying the first part of the day, which was, amazingly, free of rain.

  I moved slowly down the cobblestone streets, absentmindedly twirling my black umbrella as I went.

  A spot of tea and a scone will do me just fine, I thought and then laughed to myself at my corny British accent.

  I popped into a teahouse and settled myself down at the table closest to the door. A young Indian waiter approached me. “Can I help you, sir?”

  “Yes, can I have a cup of black tea and a scone, please?”

  “What type of scone would you like, sir?” he asked and pointed to the chalkboard hanging on the wall.

  I perused it for a while and then said, “Um, chocolate, please.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  And jolly-ho to you too!

  I like London, I really do. Well, I don’t like the weather, but the restaurants are great and the architecture is out of this world. I just love how the old and the new blend seamlessly together.

  Could I live here? Well, maybe some of the time. Six months out of the year to start with, and then I would have to see from there.

  If Zhan had his way, I would be living in London already. But I need some more time, and anyway, I still have this little problem of mine to deal with.

  “Here you go, sir. Let me know if you need anything else,” the waiter said as he set a bamboo tray down before me.

  “Thank you.”

  I sipped my tea and nibbled on my scone as I watched the Londoners go by. I like to people watch, but I really wished I’d brought a newspaper along to read. I didn’t know what had been going on in the world. All Zhan and I had been doing was taking long walks, eating, drinking, and making love. The last time I’d watched television was before I boarded the Virgin Atlantic flight to get here.

  “Noah?”

  The sound of my name snatched me out of my musings and I looked up and into the warm brown eyes of a very good-looking black man.

  “Yes?”

  “Hey, I thought that was you.”

  I looked a bit closer. “Oh my God!” I spouted and jumped up from the table, almost knocking over my pot of tea. “Will Somers!”

  Will had been the love of my life, six years earlier.

  I leaned in and we hugged. He still had that football physique.

  “How have you been?” I asked after we broke our embrace.

  “Good, good. Can’t complain one bit. And you?”

  “Oh, I’m well,” I said and blushed a bit. He still had that dazzling smile that made me feel all tingly inside.

  “So what are you doing in London?” he asked.

  “Do you have a minute?” I asked and pointed to the extra chair.

  He eyed it, threw a cautious look over his shoulder, and then shrugged. “Sure, why not? I got a little time,” he said and sat down.

  What was that about?

  “Well, I’m here visiting a friend,” I said and signaled for the waiter. “Can I get you something?”

  “Oh no, nothing for me,” he said, and so I waved the waiter away.

  “And you, why are you in London?”

  “What friend? Do I know him?”

  I threw him a quizzical look. Did he just totally avoid my question?

  “Well,” I began and leaned back into my chair, “after you broke my heart, I—”

  “Shhhh, don’t say stuff like that out loud,” he said and straightened his back so that his chest puffed out even further.

  What was going on here?

  “Don’t say stuff like what?” I questioned.

  Will cleared his throat and threw another nervous look over his shoulder. “Nothing, nothing, man,” he said and tried to laugh it away, but I wasn’t having it.

  “What’s wrong with you?” The annoyance in my voice was evident.

  “Nothing, man, really,” he said as he kept his eyes focused on my scone.

  “Okay, if you say so,” I said as I snatched at my napkin and began twirling it around my hand. “So why are you here in London?” I probed again.

  It took a beat for Will to look me in the eye and another beat for him to answer me, and even then his words came out as a whisper.

  “I’m getting married tomorrow.”

  I laughed. I’d have to see a doctor when I got back home. Surely I was losing my mind.

  “Did—did you say ‘married ’?”

  Will just nodded his head.

  “To . . . to a man, right?”

  He shook his head no, and I clutched my chest in horror. “A woman!” I squealed.

  “Shhhh,” Will warned me again. “Yes. A woman.”

  Okay, so it was a sickness. Maybe Will had started out the same way I had. A Beyoncé video, a little craving here, a little pussy there, and then total heterosexuality!

  Now I was really scared.

  “Are you serious?” I said, feeling a little faint.

  “Yes, very,” he said, almost sadly.

  “But why—” I started, when a woman walked through the door and called his name.

  “Will, baby, there you are.”

  Will abruptly stood up. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said as he caught her by the waist and planted a big wet one on her lips.

  Was this show for me?

  “Wow,” she said, a little more than dazzled.

  I couldn’t really see her face. Will’s height and massive-size body blocked most of her from my view.

  “Who’s this?” I heard her ask.

  For a moment I didn’t think Will was going to turn around and introduce me. I thought he would just whisk her off her feet like Superman and leap into the sky. Anything not to have to introduce his wife-to-be to his ex–gay lover.

  “Oh, baby, this is an old coworker of mine,” he started before he even turned around.

  I tried to put on the most nonchalant face that I could muster so that when he stepped aside and his fiancée’s eyes met mine she would be none the wiser.

  “Noah Bodison,” he said, finally turning around and moving aside, “this is my fiancée—”

  “Merriwether Beacon,” I whispered in astonishment.

  Will stopped short and his head swiveled in surprise. “Do you two know e
ach other?”

  Yes, we knew each other very well.

  “I-I,” I started, in total shock.

  Merriwether didn’t miss a beat. She smiled sweetly and approached me with open arms. I stood without knowing I had. “What a small, small world we live in,” she sang as she embraced me.

  She pressed those size-D tits against my chest and the movie that was us less than six months ago clicked on and began to play in my head. I immediately recalled the stink of our X-rated sex and the cheap scent of her dime-store candles.

  “It’s so nice to see you again, Noah.”

  “I . . . I,” was all I could say, still not knowing where we were going to go with this.

  Will gave us both a quizzical look.

  She turned to him and said, “Baby, Noah and I was on the same plane a few months ago.” I just stared. “Oh, Lord, Noah, where were we headed?” She looked at me for an answer.

  Was I going to play a part in her evildoings? Who had made it her business to turn the homosexuals of the world straight, and, more important, who had granted her the powers to do so?

  “Boston?” I squeaked.

  Will’s eyes swung between Merriwether and me.

  “Not Boston, silly. I haven’t been to Boston in years.” She laughed, but I didn’t miss the evil eye she tossed me. “It was Chicago. Yes, yes, it was Chicago.” She laughed again and moved toward Will’s side and wrapped her arm around his waist. “Noah and I sat together on that flight, and we talked all the way to Chicago.”

  “Yes, yes, we did.” I nodded like some kind of machine.

  “Oh, he was a pleasure to fly with, and fuh-nee,” she said, slapping her thigh.

  Will seemed to relax a bit. “Yeah, he is very funny,” he said, giving me a wry smile with a hidden meaning that I didn’t miss.

  “Well, it was nice seeing you again, Noah,” Merriwether said before turning to her fiancé. “Will and I have a lot to do before the day is over.” She looked at Will and grinned and then back at me. “Did he tell you that we’re getting married tomorrow?”

  “Oh yes, he did. Congratulations,” I said tightly.

  “Thank you.” She beamed.

  “Yeah, thanks, man, and hey, it was nice seeing you again,” Will said and extended his fist toward me.