Close Quarters: A Novel (Zane Presents) (6 page)

I looked from her to Giselle. “The other day, Malik said—”

“Malik?” Giselle frowned. “Anything Malik had to say should be taken with a grain of salt.”

“He didn’t say anything that I wasn’t already thinking. I’m not sure anymore if I belong with someone like Ellis. His mother hates me. And we . . .we . . . ”

Charlee sucked her teeth. “Spit it out already.”

“We lack passion in our relationship.”

“Is that all?” Charlee resumed cooking the potatoes.

Giselle interjected. “I can see how that may develop into a problem.”

Charlee turned, waving her spatula at us. “I don’t. First of all, his mother is a rich bitch with a chip on her shoulder. She probably doesn’t think Melina is good enough for her precious son and that’s all the more reason for Melina to stay with him. Secondly, if Melina isn’t getting passion in her relationship, she
can find it somewhere else. There are plenty of men out there that can rock her world.”

“Charlee, please. Why is that always your answer to every problem . . .find another man? What she needs to do is find a way to spice things up with the man she has.”

My head volleyed back and forth between them. There are times when it’s best to deal with your own problems—this was one of them. “Ladies, let’s not ruin our brunch with discussions of men. We can talk about this later, after we’ve eaten.”

I set the table while Charlee arranged the food on serving platters. We took our seats at the table, joined hands and Giselle blessed the food. Quiche, bacon, sausage, home fries, sliced tomatoes and toast.

Charlee told us about the antics of her newest client while we ate. I always liked to hear what quandaries the celebrities were getting themselves into. She knew we wouldn’t divulge the information she was feeding us, but every time before she told a story, she started with the same clause: “
I’m telling you this in the strictest of confidence; you cannot tell a soul.”
Today’s tale was centered around a gay rapper and his transsexual lover. I was firing question after question off, trying to ascertain how Charlee knew what she said she knew.

Giselle wasn’t paying us any mind. “Can you pass me some more bacon?” I handed her the platter. “Any home fries left?”

Charlee passed her the bowl of potatoes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat this much. When’s the last time you had a meal?”

“It does seem like you’ve put on a few pounds, but you wear it well,” I said.

Giselle was five-foot-nine and slender, but had the prerequisite junk in the trunk.

Giselle absentmindedly moved food around her plate. “I missed
dinner last night. My hours at the hospital are so frantic, I rarely eat a good meal. Besides, you know I love it when you cook.”

Giselle piled more food on her plate. I thought there was no way she’d finish it all. I was wrong. She ate that and then some. Charlee and I didn’t have room for cheesecake and coffee, but Giselle was on her second slice.

I helped Charlee clean the kitchen while Giselle lingered over her dessert. Our Connecticut Queen wasn’t big on domestic duties. Giselle grew up with maids and nannies; housework wasn’t her forte. The only girl out of four children, she enjoyed a privileged life. Her grandfather made his fortune in the publishing industry and her father inherited the business and all of his money. Giselle and her brother, Xavier, were the only two that had respectable careers. Xavier was a lawyer. The other two were living off of their trust funds. Giselle owned a home in Greenwich and a condo in Manhattan. We had spent many weekends in the infamous “Gold Coast,” basking in Giselle’s world. I’d since grown used to it, but when I went to her parents’ home for the first time while we were in college, I was astounded. The acres of land, the stables, the pond, the servants . . .
the mansion.
I was blown away. Giselle’s house paled in comparison to the home she grew up in, but it was extravagant in its own right. Five bedrooms, four baths, a formal dining room and many other amenities I was missing in my two-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn. I never knew black people lived such lavish lifestyles until I met Giselle, then I met Ellis. His estate surpassed anything I had ever set foot upon. Ellis’s home had a ballroom, theater, full service spa, tennis and basketball courts, two pools and a game room.

We moved our little soiree to the living room. Charlee refreshed my mimosa. Giselle declined. Her glass was still full from the first round.

“All right, you’ve stalled long enough.” Charlee planted herself on the sofa arm, bare feet resting on the cushion. “What are you gonna do about Ellis?”

“I didn’t know I
needed
to do anything.”

“You come over here whining about not having passion.”

“I don’t recall whining. Giselle, was I whining?”

“I’m staying out of this.”

“Charlee, I love Ellis. Sometimes, I just wish things were a little different between us; that’s all. I’m aware that no relationship is perfect, but I’d say our relationship is damn near perfect.”

Charlee raised her eyebrows. “Now that’s the best backpedaling I’ve ever heard.”

“Malik has me talking crazy. He commented on how happy he keeps his women in the bedroom and then made a few jokes about Ellis and me. It made me start wondering.”

Giselle chimed in. “Wondering what?”

“If I’m missing out on something.”

Charlee and Giselle exchanged curious glances. “Ellis ain’t holding it down in the bedroom?” Charlee asked.

“I didn’t say that,” I snapped. “Our lovemaking is beautiful.”

“But are y’all fuckin’?”

“Charlee!” I shrieked.

Giselle chuckled. “Just answer the question, Melina.”

“Not really,” I said, reluctantly.

Charlee shook her head. “All that lovemaking is sweet, but every once in a while, your man needs to treat you like a whore behind closed doors. Now that’s passion.”

“I don’t want to be treated that way.”

“Hmph. That’s what you think,” Charlee said.

“Melina, refresh my memory. How many men have you been with?” Giselle asked.

“I’ve had my share.”

Charlee tilted her head. “Exactly how many would that be?”

“You both know I’ve only been with four men.”

“I know, but I like to hear you admit to that craziness. You’re almost thirty. That’s embarrassing.”

I had never been the type of woman to sleep around. I needed more of a connection, preferably a commitment. I’d always been proud of the fact that I could count the number of men I had been with on one hand.

Charlee doubled over with laughter. “It amazes me that you’ve only had four dicks in your life.”

I glared at her and shared the attitude with Giselle, daring her to laugh. “I’ve only had sex with four men. So the hell what?”

“We’re just teasing. You can’t blame us. Here you are, almost virginal, and then there’s us. I can’t even tell you how many men I’ve slept with. I admire that about you. Sex means something to you. But the point Charlee and I were trying to make is that you have limited experience. Be open to new things. Ellis is your man. You love him. If you act like a slut in the bedroom, he won’t think any less of you. If you want more passion, maybe
you
need to create it.”

“I didn’t realize I was friends with Dr. Ruth. If you two don’t mind, I’m done talking about Ellis.”

“Fine. We’ll talk about me and the sexy-ass man I had over here last night.”

Listening to Charlee divulge every intimate detail about her exploits left me feeling envious. I needed more from Ellis. However, our sex life was only part of the problem.

T
he waitress placed the next round of drinks on the table behind us and waited to be paid. I pointed to Terrence. He walked up the steps and handed her a twenty. Lex was attempting to pick up a spare.

Terrence started talking just as Lex was releasing the ball. “Man, hurry up. The drinks are already paid for, so you can stop pretending to be concentrating on those pins.”

We howled as the ball veered toward the gutter.

Lex came off the lane and over to the seats. “I ought to pull my gun out and shoot your bowlegged ass right now for messing up my spare.”

That made us laugh even harder. Lex was a New York City police officer a.k.a. Officer Evans. Most people were intimidated by his presence alone; the sight of him with a gun made it worse. Big. Black. Brash. Bald. The only way to describe him. Lex came over and snatched his beer from the table.

Terrence slapped him on the back. “Let me show you how it’s done.” He picked up his ball and then got into his stance. He extended his arm in one smooth line, brought it forward and let it roll off his fingertips. The bowling ball traveled fast and clean down the middle of the lane. Strike. “I may be tall and bowlegged, but I got skills.”

My brother, Amir, and I gave Terrence high-fives. Lex feigned like he was going for his gun. Amir stood between Terrence and Lex, laughing. “C’mon now, fellas. Let’s keep the peace. I got the next round.”

“Keep the drinks coming,” I said. “I’m enjoying the spoils of victory.”

“I have to admit, I was certain that was one bet you would never win,” Terrence said.

“That’s what you get for doubting a true playa. And don’t think I forgot each of you owes me a c-note.”

Amir nodded his head. “I gotta c-note for ya. In fact, I can give you all the c-notes you want tonight at the club.”

That cracked us all up. Amir played the saxophone in a jazz band. After bowling, we were all heading down to the village to catch his late-night set at the Blue Note. I didn’t get to hear him play as often as I would’ve liked, but I showed support when I could. Amir was a year older than me. Music had been his life for as long as I could remember. My father had hoped it was a phase. Amir dropping out of college told him otherwise. He’d become accustomed to our father riding him about getting a
real
job.

My mother never complained and was always there to bail her firstborn out of financial trouble. Her purse remained open for her songbird. My mother understood the plight of a musician. She was the lead singer in a group called The Pageants when she met my father. She joked that if she hadn’t met my father and fallen in love, she’d probably be rich, living the high life somewhere.

It was my turn to bowl. I managed to knock down two pins and then got raked over the coals for my poor showing.

“Man, you better leave Kai alone. She’s throwing your game off,” Terrence said.

“I’m worn out. Three nights this week, and she was trying to get me over there tonight.”

“That must be some good stuff. If you can’t handle it, Lex Evans will pick up your slack.”

“Thanks, Officer, but I don’t need any backup on this one,” I said, laughing.

Out of my crew, we were all living the single life, with the exception of Terrence. He recently got engaged to a wonderful woman whom he had met about a year ago. I never thought I would see the day that Terrence Forrester would settle down—he was infamous for his women-juggling skills. I barely recognized him, devoted and faithful. Next Saturday, he was having his engagement party at his sister Jade’s restaurant. He’d told me to invite Kai. My response: hell no! An engagement party is the last place to invite a single woman that you are not serious about.

“Let’s bowl one more game, and then I need to get down to the club,” Amir said.

Lex shook his head. “Why don’t we skip the next game and get a head start on meeting some ladies? I’m tired of looking at your ugly mugs.”

“It sounds like you’re tired of losing and want to quit before you embarrass yourself more than you already have.”

“I have the highest average out of all of you.”

“Yeah, but tonight you’re getting your ass kicked.”

“Don’t get used to it. Every man is entitled to a bad night.”

“I hope you have better luck with the ladies.”

“You just concentrate on blowing that horn, Little Boy Blue.”

• • •

Our table was directly in front of the stage. I had to give Amir credit, he was bad on the sax. He seduced the audience with a
mellow groove, had us all rocking in our seats. The room was primarily filled with couples. I found myself thinking of Kai a few times, reminiscing on the wild week we had together. I’d call her after the show to see if she would be game for some late-night company.

Lex capitalized on the single women sprinkled throughout the audience and left us to go sit with a chick and her double D’s. Terrence was nursing his drink with a far-off expression that said he was ready to go home to his fiancée, instead of hanging out with a group of single knuckleheads.

Amir’s female fans were tempting, sexy, hungry, and eyeing him like he was a succulent steak. They were going crazy over him—it must have been his funky style. Where we both had curly hair, he wore his in a bushy Afro and had a close-cut goatee compared to my clean-shaven face. A small hoop decorated one of his nostrils. We were night and day.

I stuck around for a few minutes after his set to peep how he worked his groupies. It made me proud to see my older brother in his element. Music and women. Why would he ever opt for a different career?

It was two in the morning when we stepped out of the club. I collected my three hundred dollars from my boys and did a little gloating. We made plans to get to the engagement party next Saturday, and then I hopped a cab uptown to Kai’s apartment.

I
arrived at the office at seven with a full cup of coffee and a long day ahead of me. I was immersed in my work when my assistant, Nadia, tapped on my door an hour later. She entered, carrying a pile of files and a notepad perched at the top.

Nadia set the files in the tray on my desk. “You’re in early.”

“I have to complete the Omega Toys quarterly audit.”

“I put on a pot of hazelnut coffee. Do you want a refill?”

“No, not right now.”

Nadia sat in the chair on the other side of my desk with her pen poised above her notepad.

“Can you print last year’s Form 10-K for Omega? I need to reference the executive compensation figures. And hold my calls.”