A Cold Piece of Work (29 page)

And he tried. He offered a toast: “To new acquaintances.”

They tapped glasses. “Yes,” Wanda said. “I was going to go over to the Lowes tonight. My girls said it would be better here. They were right.”

“So your man gave you a pass for tonight to hang with your girls?” Solomon asked.

“My husband doesn't give me passes,” she said. “I'm grown and I can go where I please. I'm not disrespectful at all. But we all need a break from time-to-time.”

“Husband? Is that what you said?”

Wanda nodded her head.

And therein was the problem that he had had with women all his life. Trust.

“So, your husband is all right with you having drinks with another man?” Solomon asked. “That can't be true.”

“No, he probably wouldn't approve of it,” Wanda said. “But I'm not going to tell. Are you?”

Solomon smiled, shook his head and took a sip of his drink.

“I don't get it,” he said. He slid his chair closer and leaned in
close to her ear. “Every day, women talk about how much men are dogs and can't be trusted. Every woman I know has the same thoughts about men. But what about you? What about women?

“No offense, but you're married and you're out here meeting men. I know I'm not the first one. So—”

“What are you calling me?”

“No, I'm not calling you anything. I'm not,” Solomon said. “What I am saying is that women get really adamant about the shortcomings of men, but I don't ever hear them talking about how women are equally unfaithful.”

“You can't seriously try to compare men to women?”

“I am, definitely,” Solomon said. “Listen, who are men cheating with? Women. Most of the time they do so understanding the man already has someone else. I've been approached by or even had, uh, experiences with married women or women in relationships.

“The difference is that men might be more careless or even brag about their extra activities and some women won't tell anyone. Some will take it to their graves because they don't want their girl to think they're a slut.”

“You calling me a slut,” Wanda asked, and she was not joking.

Solomon leaned back. “What? No!”

“That's what it sounds like to me,” she said, her voice rising so much that it caught Kenny's attention.

“Yo, what's up?” he said from across the table.

“Your boy is tripping, that's what's up,” Wanda said.

Her girls then wanted to know what the problem was.

“The problem is the truth hurts,” Solomon said, standing up. “All I did was speak the truth.”

The four women started yelling mostly indecipherably at
Solomon. Kenny controlled them. “Hey, wait, wait,” he said. “Ladies, let's all calm down. We got more drinks coming. It's all good.”

Then he grabbed Solomon by the arm and pulled him away from the table. “What's up, man? That honey is all over you. What did you say to her?”

“I told her she's a trick, like all women,” Solomon said.

“What?” Kenny said.

“Man, I'm gone. That chick is married, out here flirting with me.”

“And you're complaining? That's the best kind; a married chick. That means she only wants one thing: sex. You can't be mad about that.”

“I'm just not dealing with it. I don't know; maybe I've actually grown up some. I'm tired of the chicks I don't have any connection to. I—”

“You want Michele. That's the deal, boy,” Kenny said. “Hey, whatever works for you. But in the meantime, don't blow it for me. I've got two nights in Atlanta. This girl over there is about to make them great nights. But you can't be calling her friend a trick.”

“Kenny, I'm gone. You can handle that crew without me,” Solomon said. “Here's the ticket to the car. Call me when you're done. I'll take a cab over to the Lowes and chill there.”

“Yo, don't go,” he said. “Apologize to that chick and keep it moving. No need to leave.”

“I'm not apologizing to her,” he said. “I'll hang over here at the bar. Go ahead and close that deal.”

“Nah, it's cool,” Kenny said. “I got her number already. I'm just gonna say bye.”

“You don't have to do that,” Solomon said.

“Dog, we're together. If you're gone, I'm gone,” he said.

Solomon went back to the bar as Kenny said his goodbyes. Solomon turned back toward Wanda, who had risen from her seat and walked toward him. He could not turn away from her; she was even more striking standing up. Elegant.

“Solomon,” she said, extending her hand, “I'm sorry for getting out of hand. Sometimes a couple of drinks make me emotional. I just want you to know that I understand your point. And, yes, I'm married, but it's really not about being out here trying to find a man. It's been three years and we just don't have much going for us. Actually, it's really sad; I love him and I want us to work. But if he can't be home on the weekends, I need to do something other than sit around and wait on him.

“We all need attention and affection. So, sometimes I seek it from other men. But it hasn't gone beyond that; yet.”

“Wanda, you don't have to explain anything to me,” Solomon said. “I appreciate you sharing, but that's a situation you and your husband have to get right on. If you don't, what are you going to do? Continue to go out with your girls until you take that ultimate step? That's not a good look.”

Kenny came over just then. “I'm ready, dog.”

“I'm glad we met,” Solomon said to Wanda. “Good luck.”

“Wait,” she said, digging into her purse that looked more like luxurious luggage. “Here's my card. You should call me. Maybe you can help me; one way or another.”

All that and she still flirted with Solomon. “Thanks. I will reach out,” he said, smiling.

When he and Kenny got into the car, his friend offered some advice.

“You know me; I'm the anti-relationship guy,” Kenny said. “I don't even believe in relationships, so you know how I feel about
marriage. But that's me. I know how you are; or how you were. The old Solomon would've scooped up that honey without hesitation.

“But this girl, Michele, she's got something on you, boy. I don't know what it is. I can't relate to it. I don't
want
to relate to it. But you need to get over yourself and get back with her. That's all I will say about it. You're my boy, so I can be frank. It's dumb to let her go when you don't want to; or have to.”

Solomon looked straight ahead and offered no retort, other than, “I hear you.”

They went on to the bar at the Lowes for an hour or so and then on to Atlanta's premier after-hours spot, Café Intermezzo, where Solomon liked to go for strong latte and tasty desserts.

“We don't have any place like this in Charlotte,” Kenny said.

Solomon did not respond.

“Yo, what's up with you?”

“I don't know, man,” he said. “I don't want to move on from this girl, Michele, but I realize I have to. Too much drama.”

“Well, you know me,” Kenny said. “I don't do drama. But, to be honest and fair, some of the things you really want are the hardest to get. You've just got to put in the work.”

“Yeah, but I don't want to do the work,” Solomon said. “It shouldn't be that much work required if it is right.”

“Man, you living in dream land,” Kenny said. “You've got to work for what you want. If you don't want to do the work, then you don't really want it. Plus, I saw you tonight fail to close the deal on a fine honey. Never seen that before. That tells me something.”

“What?”

“Tells me you don't know what you want.”

S
olomon's dream about dancing with Michele was interrupted by the chiming of his cell phone. He was disoriented for a second. Finally, he answered it.

“Son, how's it going?” his dad said on the other end.

“Oh, hey, Pops. I'm good… What time is it?”

“It's a quarter to seven. You can't still be in bed. I thought you'd be up getting ready for work.”

“Yeah, I will be; in fifteen minutes. I get up around seven… Everything all right?”

“Everything's good, actually,” he said. “I wanted to tell you that I had dinner with your mother last night and—”

“Hold up. You had dinner with Ma?” Solomon said. “How did that happen?
Why
did that happen?”

“She called me and it turned out we were thinking the same thing,” Mr. Singletary said.

“What was that?” the son asked.

“That we haven't seen our grandson yet,” the father answered. “So, we met for dinner downtown and—”

“Wait,” Solomon interrupted. “Downtown D.C.? Both of you hate to go downtown. I couldn't get you to go to a play with me in the city. But now you're meeting for dinner in D.C.? What's going on?”

“Nothing's
going on
,” Mr. Singletary said. “We've been divorced for sixteen years. But we're still cordial.”

“Since when?” Solomon said. “I didn't know you even talked.”

“Well, we do…sometimes,” he said. “Anyway, I called because we're coming to Atlanta in about four weeks to visit you and meet our grandson. It's time he meets us and we meet him.”

“Ah, man, that's great. I've been telling him about you all and showing him photos,” Solomon said, sitting up in the bed. “That's good stuff.”

As his father continued, Solomon's attention was distracted. To his left, through his peripheral vision, he could see his sheets move. When he turned his head, he was shocked to see Marie, one of his old
reliables
he “dated” occasionally, stretching out.

“What the?” Solomon was confused.

“Hello,” Mr. Singletary said into the phone.

“Hey, uh, Dad, can I, uh, can I, uh, call you back?”

“Yeah, sure. Everything okay?”

“I'm not sure, but I'll call you back in a few minutes.”

Solomon made sure his phone call had ended before he addressed Marie.

“Marie, what's going on? What are you doing here?”

“Huh?” she responded. “You were drunk, yes, but you couldn't have been that drunk.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You don't remember that I came over here last night, around midnight? You answered the door with a drink in your hand.”

“What the hell? So, what happened?”

“Damn, nigga, you don't remember?” That was Marie's way; she was from Columbus, Ohio. Beautiful. Smart. Real.

Solomon placed his hands in his head.

“You got mad at me for coming over unannounced. You wouldn't even let me in.”

“Good. You shouldn't come over here unless you're invited.”

“Nigga, I came over here out of concern,” she said. “Now, I'm
a lady but you about to make me go somewhere with you I don't want to go. But I
can
go there.”

“Where you need to go is home,” Solomon said. “I can ‘go there,' too, and you don't want to see it. Trust me.”

“I'm trying to help your ass; that's why I didn't leave,” Marie said.

“How did you get in the house if I kept you from coming in?” Solomon wanted to know.

“I just walked in...”

“You...how?”

“Boy, you were messed up,” she said. “You were all indignant with me, kept me from coming in and told me to call you if I wanted to come over. Then you closed the door in my face.

“I stood there in shock for a few seconds. I came over because I hadn't heard from you in months and I was concerned. Then I see you and you're all bent, pissy drunk. So, anyway, you closed the door and I could see you through the side panel walking toward the kitchen.

“You were more like stumbling. I knocked on the door and it opened; you hadn't closed it all the way. So I came in. You got mad again at me; said you were going to have me arrested for breaking and entering.

“I can't believe you don't remember any of this.”

“I sort of remember you being here; I made you a drink, right?”

“And you made yourself another one, too. I was like, ‘Can we just sit down and talk?' You battled me on everything I said. I guess you're just an ornery drunk, huh? Anyway, you actually made me a good margarita. And you finished yours before I could even finish a fourth of mine.

“I asked you why you were so drunk and you went off.”

“Ah, man. What did I say?” Solomon asked.

“What
didn't
you say?” Marie answered. “You were like, ‘I'm a grown-ass man in my own house; you can't tell me what to do, whether I should drink or not. You have some nerve. You shouldn't even be here.'

“Then you called me ‘Michele.' I said, ‘Your ass might be drunk, but don't be calling me some other woman's name.'

“You said, ‘I didn't call you Michele. I ain't thinking about that girl.' That told me you were thinking about her. And it wasn't hard to get to the bottom of why you went on a binge.”

Solomon said, “Well, I remember coming home from work and feeling like I was going to stay in and get smashed. I can't remember ever really feeling like that.

“I didn't even eat. I stopped at Publix, picked up some limes and orange juice and came home and made it happen. I was watching
Law & Order
, I think. Seems like I fell asleep until you rang my doorbell.”

“Well,” Marie said, “you woke up in rare form. Just acting a fool. But when I got you to sit down and act like you had some sense, you told me a whole bunch of stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Like you're in love with this Michele person,” Marie began. “You didn't say the words, but it was what you didn't say, and what you said about me, which was not shocking but definitely a surprise.