Playing With Fire (11 page)

“Well,” Romeo said, “I'm a true believer that when someone goes out of his way to attack someone about something that's not based on the content of their character, it's only because they're not secure in themselves. It's ultimately their problem and nothing we do can change them if they don't want to change. I personally like my color. Kind of Hershey brown, don't you think?”

“I know you proud of your blackness, boy. You can see it in the way you hold up your head.”

“Don't laugh. It took me a while to be proud of who I am. I didn't always like being black.”

“Why not?”

“Spent too much time listening to people tell me that as a black man I wasn't good enough to be respected. I've seen the few black men I could look up to be ripped violently from this world simply because of the color of their skin. And, too many times, too many doors have been slammed in my face because I didn't shine as bright when the lights were out. There was just a point in my life when I viewed the color of my skin as more of a hindrance than an asset.”

“I can understand that. I can remember a time when I was called ‘nigga' so much I use to think it was my name,” Piano Man stated.

“I remember the first time someone called me ‘nigger' to my face. I'd gotten into this debate with this fair-haired, blue-eyed white boy in school. We were arguing politics. When he didn't like what I had to say he told me that he didn't expect a ‘wanna be nigger' to understand the true American way. I was so shocked that by the time I thought to react it was too late. Mark Turner Johnston was his name. He's now the vice president of one of the largest engineering firms in the country and married to one of the most beautiful black women that I have ever had the pleasure of bedding.” Romeo shook his head over the memories as he continued. “The second person to ever call me a ‘nigger' to my face was Diane Berry. That woman had a long list of names she called me that night.”

“Well, you did good then, if that was the first time someone had called you ‘nigga.' Hell, when I was coming up that was all we were to the white man and sometimes to each other. My daddy taught me that when a white man called me ‘nigga' it was because he was afraid of what he knew I could become. When a black man called me ‘nigga' it was because he was afraid of what he had not become.”

“I think your father was right,” Romeo said, nodding his head. He paused briefly. “Hell, when I think about all the time I've wasted trying to prove myself to people who really didn't give a damn one way or another, I could kick myself. I use to work for a man who got a perverse thrill out of telling racial jokes. He was Irish and he thought that as long as he threw in a few Irish slurs with the Italian, Polish, and black jokes, that it was okay. I think about it now and I guess you can't expect someone like that to respect you when he didn't even respect himself.”

Piano Man nodded in agreement as Romeo continued. “I guess I finally came to value my own self-worth when I first opened the Playground. I knew then that I could do anything I wanted and I didn't need any man, black or white, telling me how, when, or why. At that point, I knew that my mother had raised me to be the best I could be and had showed me that I was loved no matter what. I accepted that my being black had made me better because it made me stronger. My blackness forced me to fight harder and to appreciate everything more. It's just too bad there are too many black men out there who haven't learned that yet.”

“You right about that,” Piano Man said, yawning again. Yes sir, boy, you right about that. That's why some black women turning to white men. Ain't enough of us out there for them to lean on.”

Romeo thought for a moment, raising an eyebrow. Thinking of all the interracial couples he and Taryn knew and socialized with, he interjected. “Hell, I've had black women complain to me that too many brothers are turning to white women, and they're not far from right. Explain that.”

Piano Man shrugged again, shifting in his seat. “Well, I sure as hell can't say nothing. I've had more than my fair share of white women.”

Surprised, Romeo clasped his hands in front of him. “So what was it? The pursuit, the conquest, or the prize?”

“No, won't none of that,” Piano Man said, shaking his head. “I guess it was just 'cause they let themselves be had. Hell, if you put candy on the table and tell a child he can have it, he's gonna take a piece and eat, right? It won't much different. Playing in clubs all the time, I saw women as just candy ready to be taken. Yellow, black, red, and white. It didn't matter much what color they was as long as they was sweet.”

Piano Man shrugged. “If I could do it different, I think I would, but I can't go back now so I don't worry about it.”

“I guess you're right,” Romeo said. “I know there have been white women that I've been attracted to, and more than my share of women, black and white, who have made themselves available to me. I have just always compared the women I've been with to my mother. I wanted a woman whose beauty was like hers and who had the same qualities she did. I've only found that in other black women.”

Piano man smiled. “A man just wants a woman who's gonna support him and help him to feel like a man. Just someone who's gonna love him without all the bullshit. Just like that sweet little girl does for you.”

Romeo smiled back. He missed Taryn. Missed holding her, missed her smell, the way her bottom lip quivered when she laughed.

Piano Man continued. “Too many young boys today spend too much time fighting each other instead of fighting for what they can become. It don't leave our women much to choose from after a while. It's a damn shame too. Need to go back to the basics. A good ass-whipping is what most of 'em need.”

“Old fashioned values wouldn't hurt,” Romeo said, “but what we used to know as discipline they call child abuse today. Hell, these kids will turn your behind in at the drop of a hat just for raising your voice at them if they think they can get away with it. Or worse, kill you.”

Piano Man laughed. “My granny used to tear my behind up. My father never hit me, but do something wrong, Granny would wear herself out whopping your butt.” Remembering, Piano Man smiled widely. “The best was when we used to go south. She would send you outside to break off one of them switches from a tree and don't come back with no little stick either. She would sting the hell out of my legs with that damn switch, but you can bet I never did whatever it was I did wrong again. Shoot, not like that today,” he said, shaking his head.

Romeo laughed with him. “Same thing in my house, but my mama used a belt. It was this thin, black strap she used to call ‘Mr. Jones.' When I acted up, she used to tell me to go get ‘Mr. Jones.' I used to think I was slick and try to hide it, but she'd always find a new one to take its place. I was fifteen the last time she spanked my behind. I thought I was a man. Too big to get hit. I jumped up in her face real big and bad and she slapped me right down. Mr. Jones wore me out that night.” Romeo snickered.

Piano Man sighed, nodding his gray head. “It's hard to raise our kids today and it don't help when fathers are stuck in jail serving time over some ignorance or just not there period. Can't make young boys today understand why it's so important for them to be decent, God-fearing men.”

Romeo nodded his head in agreement. Glancing at his watch, he yawned deeply. “Mr. Burdett, I need to go home and get me some sleep.”

“Yeah, it do be that time.” Pulling himself up, Piano Man adjusted his clothes, resting a frayed straw hat on top of his head. “Personally I'm going over to see my friend Aleta.”

“How is my Aunt Aleta doing?”

“She gon' be much better once I gets there,” Piano Man said with a sly wink.

The younger man laughed. “You better watch yourself. Miss Bowen don't play like that now.”

“I sure knows that!” Piano Man exclaimed. “She done put me in my place more times than I like to count.”

“You in love?”

Piano Man paused, then buttoned his coat jacket. “There are things I love about Aleta. She always been a special friend to me.”

Romeo watched as Piano Man opened the door to exit.

“Special friends don't come 'long but so often,” the old man finished.

Rising, Romeo nodded his head. “Have a good night, Mr. Burdett,” he said softly. “Don't let that wind out there blow you away.”

Piano Man smiled. “You too, boy. You too.”

Aleta pulled the heavy wool covers up and tucked them around her and Piano Man. Curling the length of her body against his, she pressed the bottoms of her feet against his lean legs.

“Damn woman, your feets is cold,” Piano Man stammered, wrapping his arms about her waist. “They's like ice.”

“Sorry.” Aleta smiled, rubbing them briskly up and down the length of his lower legs.

Piano Man nuzzled his face into the back of Aleta's head, the length of her hair caressing his cheek. He'd forgotten how comfortable it was to wrap himself around a woman, intent on nothing but holding and being held. Easy hands gliding for no other reason than to relish the warmth of touching and being touched. It felt good.

Just as sleep was tiptoeing across his brow, pulling him into its seductive embrace, Aleta's voice drew him back.

“So, what brought you back here tonight?”

Piano Man sighed deeply. “You want me to leave?”

“Didn't say that.”

“Sound like you complaining.”

Aleta sucked her teeth. “Why can't you just answer a question without getting all testy?”

Piano Man shrugged. “Won't nobody getting testy.”

They lay together quietly before Piano Man broke the silence. “I missed your company. Just wanted to be with you is all.”

Aleta nodded her head, pulling his arms closer around her. “I missed you too.”

Piano Man rolled over onto his back, one arm curled over his head, the other still wrapped around her shoulders.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

“Nothing really. Just seem funny how things turn out is all.”

Aleta nodded. “You thinking about Irene, aren't you?”

Piano Man shifted, slightly pulling his body away from Aleta's. “Just thinking that if she was still alive you and me wouldn't be here like this now.”

Aleta said nothing, inhaling sharply.

“It bother you that I still thinks 'bout Irene, even when I'm with you?”

“Sometimes. It's hard being second behind a ghost.”

“I ain't never lied to you 'bout my feelings, Aleta. You knows how much I cares about you, but it won't never be like it was with Irene. I won't never love nobody that much again.”

Aleta nodded. “I have never asked you to love me, James Burdett, never.”

“No, but you wanting it.”

“Woman has a right to want, doesn't she?”

“Don't make no sense wanting what she know she ain't never gon' have.”

Aleta bit her bottom lip.

“You wants me to leave?”

“You leave 'cause you don't want to be here, James. If I didn't want you here I wouldn't have let you in.”

Piano Man kissed her cheek, cradling her gently in his arms.

“I don't means to hurt you, Aleta. I just can't be the man you wants me to be. I can't. It ain't fair to you either, me pushing to be close to you knowing I ain't never gon' be what you want me to be. But there's only two people left in this world who keeps me going. You and my boy. You two is all I have left that mean anything. I ain't ready to let you go yet. It's selfish, but that's just how it is. Can you understand that?”

Aleta nodded, pulling her body up closer to his. “I remember when we was younger and you and Irene use to sneak off behind that old building used to be down on Commerce Street. Irene would swear me to secrecy, making me promise that if her mama ever asked I would say she was with me. I would have lied through my teeth for the two of you. Irene was my very best friend and I loved both of you. I would have done anything just to keep the two of you close to me.”

Piano Man smiled. “Yeah. Irene knew that too. She knew she could depend on you no matter what. But both of you knew not to do no depending on me.”

“Yeah, you got that right. You was trifling, James. No good trifling.”

Piano Man laughed, hugging her tightly. “You the only person know how much I loved my Irene. The only one can understand. What you and me share is special too. She was your best friend and I think she'd be real happy that me and you are close now.”

Aleta shook her head. “I don't know about all that now. Irene may have loved you when she passed away, but she was still angry as hell at you for all you'd done to her. And I don't think she'd be real happy 'bout my being with you.”

“She'd be happy that you was happy. She'd be pissed as all hell that I was getting something out of it,” he said with a laugh.

Aleta laughed with him.

Piano Man rested a wrinkled hand atop her breast. “How come you ain't never come after me when Irene was alive? I knows you wanted me.”

Aleta moved his hand down to her waist. “There are lines you don't cross, no matter what. As long as Irene was alive I couldn't cross that line, even when she'd written you off. No matter how I felt about you. Now that she's gone and the two of us are way past old, it doesn't make much sense to be wasting a whole lot of time not being happy.”

Piano Man caressed her breasts one more time, brushing his lips down the length of her face. Lightly tracing the line of her ear with his tongue, he whispered, “I cain't promise my 'quipment gon' work. My body don't cooperate like it used to, but I can still make you feel good if you wants me to.” His hands fell against the curve of her hips, dancing down the length of her thigh.

Aleta kissed him tenderly, her palms pressed against his face. “Don't worry 'bout your equipment,” she whispered back. “Just hold me tight, James. I don't need you to do nothing but hold me.”

Piano Man smiled, nodding his head. “I can do that. Yes, ma'am. I can sure do that.”

They cuddled closely. Piano Man's hands lightly stroked the silk of her skin. Long black fingers tickled the bend of her elbow, rested easily against the arch of her back, sometimes tracing the round of her small bust line. He felt a mild tremor in his loins, the flicker in his manhood ever so faint. He took a deep breath, pressing his face into Aleta's neck. He could barely remember the first time impotence had taken hold of his manhood, recalling only the acute embarrassment blamed on an excess of drink. Piano Man had stopped anticipating more long ago, only expecting as much from his body as any man his age would want to expect.

The warmth of Aleta's body embraced the dark, limp flesh, teasing slightly. Closing his eyes tightly, Piano Man pressed his face against her breasts, the beat of her heart tapping at the brown of skin against his cheek. He sighed heavily, then drifted off into a deep sleep.

 

 

Taryn greeted Romeo at the door, a chilled glass of orange juice in her hand.

“Welcome home,” he beamed, folding his arms around her.

Nuzzling her nose into his chest, she leaned up to be kissed, melting into his embrace.

“Mmm, thank you,” she murmured.

He brushed his lips gently against hers. “You're home early. I didn't even get a chance to straighten up the mess I made.”

Taryn shrugged, moving out of his arms. “Don't worry about it. How was your run?”

“It was good. I am so bad at keeping up with any kind of exercise. At least it doesn't hurt anymore.”

Taryn patted his abdomen, laughing. “The things you have to do to keep an eye on this baby.”

Romeo laughed with her, downing the glass of freshly squeezed oranges. “Thank you, that was good.”

Taryn padded back into the kitchen, Romeo on her heels. “So, how long before you're off again?”

“I'm only home for the week, then I have to be back in London and Berlin for two weeks. Do you think you can stand it?”

Romeo shrugged, a grimace gracing his face. “If I must.”

Taryn wrinkled her nose. “You need a shower.”

Romeo lifted his arm, sniffing the hollow of his armpit. “What are you trying to say?”

“You stink.”

He laughed, pulling her to him again. “You don't like me au naturel?”

“Your au naturel doesn't bother me, it's your body funk that's about to kill me.”

Kissing her cheek quickly, Romeo bounced up the stairs.

“What's on your agenda today?” she called after him, pausing at the bottom of the stairwell.

“Whatever you want to do! Now are you coming to wash my back for me?”

Taryn smiled teasingly as she headed up the stairs behind him. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

She followed Romeo into the oversized bathroom, lowering herself onto the floor by the tub as he turned on the faucet, flooding the white porcelain container with warm water. She watched as he stepped slowly out of his clothes. He pulled his T-shirt up and over his head, flinging the garment to the floor. As he pulled at the waistband of his running pants, he smiled, then licked out his tongue, running the appendage slowly over his lips. Taryn smiled back at him, then rolled her eyes mockingly. Romeo gave her a quick wink, then flexed the muscles across his chest and arms. He smiled seductively and she could not help tossing her head back to laugh, the beauty of him shining in her eyes. He grinned, then lowered his naked body into the tepid flow.

“You getting in?”

She shook her head. “No.”

He shrugged, bemusement painted on his face. “Suit yourself.”

Reaching her hands into the warm water, Taryn filled the small cups of her palms and ladled the water down the length of Romeo's body. With his eyes closed, he lay back under the liquid blanket and enjoyed the patter of fluid against his skin as it trickled between her manicured fingers.

Taryn slowly painted the brown of his skin with a thick lather, brushing his flesh with a heavy coating of soap. Romeo welcomed the warmth of her fingers against him as she kneaded his flesh teasingly. As she traced the lines of his face, he pressed his lips against her palm, kissing the soft flesh. Leaning toward him, Taryn lowered her mouth to his. The embrace was slow, the two of them relishing their intense emotions. Reaching for her, Romeo pulled her down into the tub with him, the watery cloak saturating her fully clothed body. Taryn laughed heartily, the wet fabric quickly feeling uncomfortable.

Eager to feel her against him, Romeo pulled anxiously at her soaked shirt, ripping the cloth from around her. Taryn struggled slightly, freeing her lower body from the knit shorts that squeezed her hips. Hugging her tightly, Romeo pressed his chest against hers. The sensation of flesh against flesh was electrifying as desire surged between them.

Romeo could find no words to illustrate the emotions cascading through his body. There was no sense of control as his firmness sought the pliant crevice of her being. Romeo felt possessed as he gave in to the sweeping stimulation of her body against his. When their loving became too much to bear, when he no longer held dominion over the flexed muscle penetrating the satin of her inner lining, he heard himself cry out her name, the lilt of it embracing them both.

Romeo clasped Taryn as tightly against him as he could, conscious not to cause her any hurt. He lay spent beneath her, the warmth of the water lapping against their naked bodies. They lay together for some time, the fluid cooling around them.

Taryn lifted her body from his, extending a hand to him as she stood. Rising to his feet, Romeo reached behind her, turning on the shower overhead. Stepping into the heat of the fine spray, he shook lightly, the warm water tingling against his skin. As they soaped and rinsed each other, Romeo suddenly felt vulnerable; never before had he wanted to spend time with a woman as he now wanted to with Taryn. He smiled slightly, his dimpled cheeks rippling in the lines of his face.

“What?” Taryn aked. “What's so funny?”

Romeo shook his head, his smile stretching into a grin. “Nothing.”

Taryn smiled back, her eyes twinkling. “Yeah, right.”

“No really. It's nothing. I was just reflecting.”

Taryn lifted her chin slightly, eyeing him curiously. Passing him a large towel, she watched as he stepped into the middle of the room, wrapping the plush sheet around himself.

“How long do you think it will last?” Taryn asked coyly, not looking directly at him.

“What?”

“The great sex.”

Romeo stopped, dropping the towel to the floor.

“I would hope forever.”

“I don't know,” Taryn said, still focusing on wiping the moisture from her skin. “They say when two people are with each other for a very long time that the sex starts to get monotonous, routine, oh so boring.”

“You're not complaining, are you?”

“Not me. Of course not.” Taryn smiled, heading into the bedroom. “But it's different for women. I mean, most fake orgasm to begin with.”

“Oh, hell no!” Romeo exclaimed, following behind her. “Now you're telling me you fake your orgasm with me?”

Taryn laughed. “You're being too sensitive. I was just generalizing.”

“Sensitive my behind. I'm trying to figure out what the hell you're talking about.”

Taryn fell to the bed, sprawling across the pillows. “I was just wondering out loud how long it would be before sex with you became boring.”

“Why?”

“Planning ahead is all. You never know when it'll be time to move on.”

Romeo dropped to the bed alongside her. “Now you're making plans to leave me?”

Taryn laughed again. “You worried?” she asked, rolling her body up against his, kissing his cheek.

Romeo shrugged. “Not really. I know I'm the best thing to ever happen to you.”

“Do you now?”

“Uh-huh. Haven't you heard? I'm the catch of the town. Women are standing in line waiting for me.”