November 2005
After the breakup between me and Su, I haven’t been able to commit to another relationship. Every morning I get up and look inside the dresser drawer and peek at the engagement ring I bought her. I can’t get myself to return it. I often wonder how the situation would have turned out if I had been more firm and stopped her. If I had said all the things I wanted to say. Maybe expressed how much in love with her I was and how her actions were truly hurting me. Perhaps instead of challenging her I should have pleaded with her not to go. Often I think about contacting her to rekindle what we had but my stubborn pride won’t let me.
That New Year’s Eve, it’s rumored, she hooked up with Bugsy. He kept her around for a few weeks then dumped her once his wife found out about her. I’ve heard that she’s since finished law school and is working for a top law firm in lower Manhattan. One part of me would have loved to be at her graduation ceremony. I felt I deserved to be a part of that accomplishment in her life. The other part of me will always resent her for doing what she did best, which was fuck . . . someone other than me. But I’m not a sore loser. I can’t knock her hustle. She saw an opportunity and went for it. In the process she gambled and lost a good man.
Despite my love life being in shambles, things are going really well for me in my career. I have a new client that I’ve been hired to watch. Her name’s Jessica and she’s an elite, pop star diva. My fee has gone up tremendously, and she pays on time. It’s less of a headache than dealing with these wannabe hardcore rappers. They are just illusionists and I’m a bit too old to catch a bullet for someone who instigates violence just to sell a record.
I’m still waiting for my agent to sell my screenplay. I’ve since written two more that I think are as good as or even better than my first. I’ve had a lot of time on my hands since I’m not in a relationship. I mean, I have women friends who serve their purpose, but that’s it. I’m not looking for anything serious. Besides, I have enough hobbies to keep the average person more than occupied. Between writing screenplays and painting, I hardly have time to do much of anything else.
Tomorrow I have a big day planned. I have to pick up Jessica and take her over to CBS, where she’ll sing live on their morning show. Then I’ll shoot her over to MTV, where she’ll do a live interview and promote her new album. Last, I’ll drop her off at the airport; she’s flying home to spend her birthday with her mother. But I have today off to do whatever I like.
I thought about going into the diner to see the pretty Jovie, who was unmistakably flirting, but I decided against it. I see something in her eyes that I can’t satisfy. There’s a yearning in her eyes and sadness, as if she wants to open up but is afraid. Women like her are in Category One. Meaning they deserve more than what I could offer at this time in my life. It’s funny because before Su broke my heart, I’d seek out Category One women. Quality women who didn’t jump into bed with the next hot rapper. Someone with morals and ethics. Career-minded women. I thought I found that in Su. . . . How wrong was I? Now, I love flighty women. Take-to-bed-on-the-first-night-type women. No kissing, just fucking-type women. That’s the type of man I’ve become.
Since this new client, I’ve been able to move into a trendy brownstone apartment up in Harlem on 127th Street. I have exposed brick walls, an antique fireplace, cherrywood floors, eighteen-foot ceilings and large storm windows. I’m renting now with the option to buy.
After I jogged around the park, I headed to the gym on 125th Street to work out for a few hours. I had to keep my body buff and in shape. Women love that shit. After my workout, I noticed the strangest thing. Walking down the street was Jovie, the waitress from the diner, who appeared to be talking to herself. She was so caught up in her conversation she hadn’t realized she was about to bump straight into me. Quickly, I moved out of her way and then tapped her on her shoulder.
“Oh, gosh!” she screamed and looked at me most peculiarly.
“I’m sorry I frightened you,” I said. When she didn’t respond and looked at me with a blank expression, I continued, “I’m London. From last week at the diner.”
“Oh, yes. London, how are you?”
“I’m doing well, thank you.”
“Good. Good.”
“Are you okay? You seem a little preoccupied with something.”
“I’m fine.”
“Were you just talking to yourself?” I couldn’t resist asking. She turned bright pink, which confirmed what I already knew.
“Well, my father said it’s okay to talk to yourself. You’re only crazy if you answer yourself back,” she joked. I liked the fact that she could make fun of herself.
“Your father must be a brilliant man.” I laughed. “So, where are you headed?”
“I’m on my way to work,” she said.
Her oval-shaped eyes were inviting. I looked down at her sexy hips and small waist and lied. “I was just heading over there as well. Do you mind if I walk with you?”
She hesitated for a moment. “Sure . . . sure. That would be fine.”
As we walked I took the opportunity to get to know her a little better. She had the softest voice, I had to almost strain to hear her. And her cherubic face gave her an angel-like quality, as if she were untarnished by the cruel world.
“So, what do you do?” I asked. “Besides working at Sally’s?”
“I just finished my Bachelor of Arts degree. I’m a singer.”
“Really? You don’t look the type.”
“I don’t look like the highly intellectual type? I’m insulted,” she joked.
I laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that. You don’t look like the type of person who’d be able to sing in a room full of people. You seem awfully shy.”
“Does my shyness exude?”
“Yes, it does.”
“Truthfully, I can only sing in a room full of strangers.”
“So, let’s hear it.”
“What?”
“Your voice. Sing for me. I’m a stranger.”
“You’re not a stranger. I’m your waitress.”
“That you are.” I smiled. “And I like it. I like you.”
I don’t know what made me be so forward. But as we walked, I suddenly wanted to sleep with her. I wanted to feel her thighs wrapped tightly around my waist. I usually know within the first five minutes if I’d like a taste of the peach cobbler.
“Did you know that banging your head against a wall for approximately one hour burns a hundred fifty calories?” she said.
“Did I hear you correctly?” I asked.
“Well, did you know that?” she pursued.
“No. No I didn’t.”
“Just a little bit of trivia for you.”
Once we got to Sally’s, Jovie immediately walked in the back to clock in for work. I sat patiently in her area and waited for her to come and take my order. Once I ordered, I watched how she handled herself with the other patrons. I had to control myself a few times from coming to her assistance when men were a little too assertive in trying to get her attention. But she handled them easily. I couldn’t help but imagine Su in the same circumstance. Su loved to be adored. She loved attention. She would have grinned, batted her eyes and quite possibly given a few brothers her number. Thinking about her made me lose my appetite, so I didn’t even want the turkey cheeseburger I had ordered.
I summoned Jovie and she came over with a smile.
“You’re leaving already? You haven’t even touched your food. Is everything all right?”
“It was great. I guess I’m just not hungry.” I sulked.
“Would you like me to make this to go?”
“Please don’t bother,” I said as I laid down twenty dollars. When I looked up we made eye contact. “Do you think I could get your number to take you out sometime? I would hate to have to start stalking you by coming here every day?”
She blushed.
“I’m really not dating at the moment,” she said softly.
“Then this wouldn’t be a date. Just two new friends getting to know each other better. No pressure.”
“I really don’t know if I could,” she said, putting up a front.
“You can. In fact, you will get a piece of paper and write your telephone number down so I can call you.”
“Your number,” I said with a smile. I loved being assertive with subservient women.
Hesitantly, she looked around, then scrawled her telephone number on the back of my check and scurried off. I wondered briefly if I’d even use her telephone number or why I’d even bothered to ask.