Any Way the Wind Blows - E. Lynn Harris [34]
“She’s back. I got to go, Jermaine,” I heard Amy whisper. As I walked in, I rolled my eyes to let her know I was not pleased.
“Hey, Yancey B. How’s the rehearsal going?” Amy asked.
“Fine. Did you get the items I asked you to pick up?” I asked as I sat in front of the mirror.
“I got everything but the cold cream. I forgot what kind you wanted,” Amy said.
“Noxzema! Why didn’t you write it down like I told you?” I screamed.
“I forgot,” Amy said. I looked through the bag of toiletries and didn’t see the vitamins I’d asked Amy to purchase. “Where are my vitamins?”
Amy placed her hand to her mouth and giggled nervously. “I guess I forgot them too.” Now I was steaming. I wasn’t going to pay my hard-earned money to someone who couldn’t follow simple instructions and operated on C.P. (colored people’s) time. Amy needed to join Dove on the unemployment line.
“Do you know what you want for lunch?” Amy asked.
“No,” I said, trying to figure out how to let Amy go.
“How about some shrimp fried rice?”
“Is that what you want?” I asked.
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
I pulled a twenty-dollar bill from my purse and handed it to Amy. “Take this and go have yourself a nice long lunch. I don’t want anything right now.”
“Oh, that’s so nice of you. I might go to Ollie’s Noodle Shop. You sure you don’t want anything?”
“Yes, I want something,” I said coldly.
“What?”
“When you finish your lunch, don’t come back. I don’t want to see your face again.”
“What cha mean? You firing me?”
“You got that right. And you don’t even have to write that down,” I said as I headed for the shower.
The Rodeo Kings …(or Queens)
I was kinda depressed because I hadn’t heard from Basil since I invited him to The Lion King. When I called his office, he was always on the other line. When I called his house, the answering machine picked up. He was a little upset the first time I called him there and wanted to know how I had gotten his number. For some reason, I told him the truth. Well, my version of the truth. I told him his number showed up on my caller I.D. when I checked my messages the morning after we met. What I didn’t tell him was that I’d checked my messages on purpose from his house to ensure that I’d have his digits.
Wylie noticed my love jones when I took him to The Lion King after Basil declined. A couple days later, Wylie invited me to dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, Maroon over on West Sixteenth Street, between Seventh and Eighth Avenues. We enjoyed spicy jerked chicken wings and stuffed pork chops and ended the meal with delicious red velvet cake.
After dinner we walked a few blocks over to Nineteenth to G, a quiet bar where you could go to meet and greet or just share conversation with a good friend. Wylie ordered an apple martini for himself, and I got a lite beer.
“So are you falling in love with this stray?” Wylie asked after a few sips of his drink.
“Yep, I’m afraid so,” I said.
“Why?” he asked. For a few moments I couldn’t answer him. I’d spent the last three days wondering why I was even considering jumping off the cliff called love. I knew I could end up hitting rocks that would leave deep wounds. I already had enough scars from previous love affairs and my childhood. But what if Basil was the jackpot? Falling in love with him could be as soft as falling onto one million down pillows, providing perfect comfort.
The way I saw it, Basil was a triple-threat man. There was the power of his sex, and how I felt like he was branding me when we made love. His face, both handsome and beautiful, had a toughness and yet a feminine quality that was rare in masculine men. If his office and home were indications of his wealth, I was pretty sure he was financially stable. But I knew if I was honest with myself, I might be falling in love with him, because in him I saw all the things I’ve dreamed of