Cougars (7 page)

“Thanks love, but right now I just want to take a wait-and-see approach.”

“Well, you know that I'm here for you if you need me.” Tiffany placed her hand on top of Millie's.

“Thank you.” There was a short moment of silence, then Millie spoke again. “Let's talk about something else. What's going on with you, Jasmine?”

“Nothing, just working and coming home every day.”

“Whatever happened to the young twenty-five-year-old guy you were seeing?”

“Steve? Oh, I let him go. He had too many mother issues,” Jasmine grudgingly admitted. “But the airline pilot on my flight was cute and very flirtatious. However, he wasn't really my type.”

“I don't know why you ladies want to mess around with babies in their twenties. I'm telling you, come up to the dirty thirties. By the time a man hits thirty, he should have matured,” said Lauren.

“What are you talking about, Lauren?” Tiffany glanced at her as if she were from another planet. “I've dated men who were fifty and still acted like a child. You can't gauge maturity by age only. You can find a young man who is very mature and articulate. I truly believe that age is just a number and I'm open to loving anyone who loves and treats me good.”

“Girl, you need to call a spade a spade. You like college boys because they make you feel young,” Jasmine said.

“And what's wrong with that?” Tiffany wanted Jasmine to explain her comment.

“Nothing is wrong with it. I think it's wonderful.”

“Well, I don't know about you guys but I am stuffed,” Lauren confessed.

“Yeah, I need to walk some of this food off. Are you guys about set? We've got a busy day. We've got to do some more shopping and then it's off to a nightclub. Come on and stop acting like old ladies. We're going to paint this town red and party all night long!” Tiffany popped her fingers and did a little dance move.

Travis had on his favorite black
silk, short-sleeved woven sport shirt, a pair of loose-fitting Sean John jeans and his favorite pair of casual duck-billed shoes. He and Alex had just gotten out of a cab and were walking toward the entrance of Madison Square Garden. Alex and his lustful nature were constantly on the prowl for a new sexual conquest and New York City was filled with beautiful women, young and mature from all walks of life.

“How are you doing, baby? You know you're wearing that dress,” he said to a pretty Middle Eastern woman who paid him no attention.

“Have you ever had a woman from the Middle East?” Alex asked as they stepped inside.

“No, I can't say that I have,” Travis answered as he read the signs for the direction to walk.

“I hear that they're good in bed.” Alex flipped his wrist to look at his watch.

“I'm sure they are,” Travis said as he continued.

“Why are you in such a funk? I thought this was going to be a fun trip and you were going to loosen up a bit. At least that's what you told me you were going to do.” Travis could tell right away that Alex was going to be extremely annoyed if he didn't behave in a hedonistic manner.

“I'm cool, man; I just have a lot on my mind.”

“The only thing you truly need to have on your mind is hook
ing up with a fine babe who can help you relieve some stress. That's why I sent you to see MiMi. She must be losing her damn touch.”

Travis laughed. “MiMi was truly something else, and she hasn't lost her touch. I'm having a lot of issues with my current boss. There is a lot of political bullshit happening, and I have a feeling they're gunning for me. Before I came down, I checked my e-mails and I had a nasty gram.”

“See, that's your problem. You don't know how to leave work at the office. You're one of those driven bastards who has to work twenty-four-hours, seven days a week. You'd better take it easy before you lose all of your hair, gain a gut and complicated health issues. I mean, seriously. We're young, handsome, college-educated men. We have an abundance of women from a variety of ethnic backgrounds to select from: ladies who are young or marvelously mature and freaky as hell. What more could a guy ask for?”

“Alex, my ambitions go beyond sexual conquests. For ten years I've been on the list. I've had my fun, but now it's time for me to get serious. I want to win the Nobel Peace Prize for being a brilliant chemist who creates a cure for something like cancer. Do you know how wealthy I'd be if I found a cure? I'd be like fucking Bill Gates, so goddamn wealthy it's too ridiculous for words. Damn, sometimes I wish I had his brain and created Microsoft.”

“Dude, this is about as good as it gets for us. Unless you're a professional athlete, actor or singer, life isn't going to get any sweeter for you in this country.”

“I don't believe that.” Travis flat out refused to allow Alex to blow the light out on his dream.

“I know you don't and I'm not trying to be a dream killer, but on the real, you need to be thankful for what you have. You have a PhD. in organic chemistry. You're a doctor and by society's standards, you're one of the elites in this country.”

“Hell, anyone with an opportunity, a little bit of will and a lot of desire can do what I've done. I don't want to just be good, man. I want the world to know my name. Like Steve Jobs, or Robert Jarvik, the inventor of the artificial heart, or even Dr. Ben Carson. I want to be an inventor and innovator who changes the world.”

“You sound like you're going to become some obsessed nut-sack who ends up in the mental hospital talking to a padded wall.” Alex spoke truthfully about the way he felt.

“I doubt that I'll go insane.” Travis disregarded his statement.

“I don't know about that, dawg. Sometimes you can get so focused that you just tune the fuck out. I've seen you do that shit and it's not pretty.”

“That's just the nature of my work.” Travis defended his sometimes altruistic behavior.

“That's why you need a friend like me. Someone to help you realize that all work and no play will make you a dull boy.”

Travis smirked at the simplicity and the truthfulness of the statement.

“Speaking of individuals doing extreme shit, are you still flying people like Hatcher McKean around? They're known underworld kingpins, but if they need to book a private flight somewhere, they call you. What's up with that shit?”

Alex glanced around as if he were suddenly paranoid. “Shhhh! What the fuck is wrong with you, man? Don't go blurting shit like that.”

“I was just asking a question.”

Alex began to whisper. “I fly all kinds of people around on commercial and private airlines. I'm just a damn pilot making a few extra dollars. What they do to make money is their business. I don't ask questions. Do you understand where I'm coming from?”

“Just answer me this. Are they the ones responsible for getting
you such good seats? I mean, even if you're making cash on the side, to get such choice seats is very expensive.”

“Don't worry about how I got the tickets, Travis. Let's just enjoy the game and have fun, agreed?”

Alex stopped walking, then extended his hand so they could agree to just have some fun.

“Cool,” Travis conceded and gave him a brotherly handshake and a pat on the back.

“Stop being so damn nosey.” Alex got in the last word as they continued on their way.

T
HE
GAME WAS FAST PACED AND EXCITING. At half time the Bulls were down by twenty points. They fought their way back into the game and with only seconds left on the clock found themselves ahead by two points. The capacity of the crowd had risen to their feet, and roared to an earsplitting level. The Knicks tossed the ball inbound, hustled up the court and at the very last moment put up a three-point shot that sailed through the hoop.

“Damn it! Son of a bitch!” Alex howled. “Why didn't the damn defender do his fucking job? There is no way the Knicks should have had an unobstructed view of the basket!”

“Calm down, man.” Travis knew that Alex didn't take loss in any form well. His competitive nature, if left unchecked, had gotten him into a few fistfights over the years. Travis immediately saw that this part of his personality hadn't changed with maturity.

Travis watched as Alex curled the knuckles on his right hand, then held up his left palm and punched it a few times. “Damn! I had money on this game.”

“One day you'll get enough of gambling your paychecks away,” Travis said as he slapped the back of Alex's right shoulder a few times.

“I don't gamble my paychecks away.” Travis saw a disgusted look formed on Alex's face as the team headed to the locker room.

“Come on, there is nothing you can do about it now, crybaby,” Travis said, wanting Alex to start moving toward the door.

“They need to do a better job drafting high-quality players,” Travis listened as Alex continued to gripe. His favorite teams were the Chicago Bulls and the Chicago Bears, and he followed them both religiously.

“Keep it moving, Alex. You're in my way and I've got to hit the bathroom before I bust open,” Travis said.

“I can't wait to get online and blog about how they gave this game away,” Alex said.

“Will you stop your bitching and move?” Travis snapped at him like a whip cracking against the air.

Alex finally complied and began moving toward the exit.

By the time the two were back on the street, Alex was still raw about the loss. Although Travis tried to change the subject, Alex wanted to relive that lost shot over and over again. Travis hailed a cab and told the driver to take them back to the hotel.

“Did the Knicks win?” asked the driver as the cab bolted out into the flow of traffic.

“Yeah,” answered Travis.

“Those are my boys. They're going to win it all this year,” said the driver.

Travis glanced over at Alex and saw that his ears were filled with sore loser steam.

“We're Bulls fans,” Travis announced so the driver would shut up before Alex choked him to death.

An hour later, Travis was standing in the lobby of the hotel. He'd just come back down from his room where he'd changed clothes and freshened up. He had on an all-white linen suit, with
an olive-green Bahamas Joe silk shirt and stylish Gucci shoes.

“Can I get you a cab, sir?” asked the doorman as he moved toward the exit.

“No thanks,” Travis answered as he removed his cell phone and checked to see if he had any messages. Seeing that he had none, he put it away and found a spot to sit and wait on Alex. He hoped he was done licking his wounds.

“Are you ready to go?” Alex finally showed up looking debonair in his black slacks, crisp purple shirt and sport jacket.

“Yeah, I'm ready. Where are we headed again?” Travis asked.

“I told you to this spot where all of the sexy hot Cougars hang out. I'm feeling depressed and I need the company of a radiant woman to cheer me up.”

“I feel you on that one. Do you know what I like about dating Cougars?” asked Travis as he stood up and headed toward the hotel exit.

“The fact that they like to fuck all of the time,” Alex said, believing that he'd answered Travis's question.

“Yeah that, and the fact that they're so easygoing. They always smile and don't stir up a lot of drama like some women our age.”

“Oh, I can tell you right now, I can't stand chickenheads.”

“Or ghetto girls,” Travis added as a cab pulled up. They got in and Alex told the driver where to go. At that moment, Alex's cell phone rang. When he opened it, Travis saw the name, which appeared in bold letters on the caller ID. It was Hatcher McKean.

“I've got to take this, so be quiet.” Alex pushed his index fingers against his lips.

“Dude, whatever you're doing for him—” Alex cut Travis off.

“Will you just chill and let me handle some business.” Alex contemptuously glared at his friend, just before answering his phone.

Jasmine, Lauren, Tiffany and Millie had just exited a Broadway theater. They'd seen
The Color Purple,
starring
American Idol
icon Fantasia. They were all buzzing with energy and excitement as they stepped out onto the overcrowded and noisy streets of New York City.

“Fantasia did such a wonderful job,” Jasmine spoke loud enough for everyone to hear her. Tiffany raised her hand and hailed a cab. Shortly thereafter, an empty cab pulled over. Once they were situated inside, Tiffany gave the driver the address to the Rooftop Lounge. Fifteen minutes later they arrived at their destination. After Millie paid their fare, they entered the building and took the elevator up.

The swank club was filled with the sounds of laughter and multiple conversations. Women were wearing their most expensive designer shoes and clingy, cleavage-boosting dresses. Several people were taking photos with their cell phones while waitresses fetched them more cocktails. Some were eating while others stood around the brick railing and took in the spectacular view of the city. Positioned in a designated corner was a DJ playing a smooth jazz song by Chris Botti.

“Wow, how did you find this place, Tiffany?” Millie asked.

“My oversexed neighbor told me about it,” she explained as they claimed an empty table. “She's fifty years old and says that she's
having the most amazing sex life with a guy who is thirty-one that she met here.”

“Shit, I'm not mad at her. I could use some amazing sex right about now,” Jasmine said, laughing.