A Weekend Affair (4 page)

“Twenty if you're just sitting at the bar. Ten if you're here to enjoy the band and dinner,” the hostess told us once we got to the door.

Gabby went into her silver clutch and handed the woman a twenty; then we waited to be led to a table. The place may not have looked like much from the outside, but once on the inside, it was amazing. Red-stained concrete walls with black leather booths were on the side of the room with the stage. The other side had black walls with red circular tables and red and black chairs. A red carpet led from the door to the bar. Square, low-hanging light fixtures gave the room a dim lighting, along with the faux candles burning on the tables.

The place was already full, it seemed, but the line we had left outside told us it would be packed as the night progressed. Gabby and I did a little jig when we were led to a booth right in front of the stage.

“Thank you for joining us tonight at The Treble Cleft, ladies. We do hope your night is a memorable one. Your server will be with you shortly,” the hostess told us.

We thanked her as she laid the food, dessert, and drink menus on our table. I didn't realize I was smiling until Gabby cast a sidelong glance at me.

“What?” I asked.

“Just happy to see you smiling is all.”

“I figure I may as well try to find some kind of happiness while here.”

She gave me a one-arm hug, then opened her menu. While we talked and joked the night away, I was feeling some type of way about the fact Malik hadn't tried to call me back. I checked my phone every so often, hoping for a text or something. Some kind of lifeline of hope.

“Want to tell me what's wrong?”

I turned to find Gabby eyeing me. I didn't even realize I had been staring off into space. The music was live. Both bands had shut the house down. While they had played, I'd been all into the moment. But when the music had stopped, my husband's voice was back. Even though I was all set to pretend everything was everything, Gabby's knowing eyes had locked in on me. So before I could lie like it was nothing, Gabby was shaking her head telling me not to even think about it. I chuckled a bit and sighed, then told her about Malik calling me earlier.

She was about to respond when the waiter came over to refill our wineglasses.

Once the waiter left, Gabby said to me, “Enjoy yourself this weekend. It's about you. Don't let any man take you away from remembering who you are. Don't ever lose yourself in a man. He will be okay, and if he isn't, then . . . oh well. He cheated on you, in your home. He should be begging on hands and knees.”

I nodded because I knew she had a point, but what scared me most was that Malik wasn't groveling. He wasn't calling, texting, or trying to get me to forgive him. It was like he didn't even care. But, as she said, I had come to the island to enjoy myself. So I got back into the spirit of things and pushed Malik to the back of my mind. Everything was going well. Drinks were good, food was good, music was great . . . and then my wandering eyes started to roam the club.

I'd caught the eye of many of the men in the place who had been smiling at me and Gabby. I knew why they were looking at her. I figured the dimness of the club was blinding them to how I really looked. The all-black attire I had on hid the true thickness I possessed. Still, I just decided to look around to take my mind off of things . . . when I spotted him.

“Oh my damn,” I said out loud before I could stop myself.

I picked up my wineglass and took a leisurely sip. Lord Jesus, that man's teeth were so damn white. His face held a goatee that was nice and even. His smooth, chocolate skin made me want to walk over and touch it. And he had locs. They sat braided back into six neat cornrows against his scalp. Anyone who knew me knew I was a sucker for men with long hair. Make that hair locs and I was smitten! He sat with a demeanor that read confident, not cocky. Eyes twinkled at me from behind his black-framed glasses. I guess the brother whose eyes I caught staring at me read my lips because he looked as if he chuckled, then nodded and smiled at me.

He was casually sitting on the red leather-top bar stool. One leg on the swivel and one leg on the floor. I could tell the loafers on his feet were expensive because of the red bottoms. He had on black dress slacks that strained against the muscles in his thighs. Big hands lured me in, one resting on his thigh while the other one held a glass with an amber-colored liquid. His black blazer was open and showed the red shirt underneath, top button open showing his solid chest peeking through.

He held my eyes for so long that something passed between us. I saw him studying me as if he wanted to get to know me in ways a man shouldn't want to know a married woman. I shivered. Felt as if I was being undressed, but it wasn't invasive enough to make me feel uncomfortable. I wondered if this was what Malik felt when he looked at Janay. I wondered if the man staring at me was married. Wondered if he had a wife somewhere who had no idea he was eye fucking me in a dimly lit jazz club.

Looking at the stranger with the liquid black eyes and alluring pull had brought wanton desires to the forefront of my mind. It didn't help that when I glanced behind him to the man he had been talking to that he too looked like he'd walked right out of African Heaven. He had a smooth, caramel skin tone that had been gently kissed by the sun. He stood regally and looked to be taller than most of the men in the room. He had a close-cropped haircut, razor tapered to perfection. The curly mane and light eyes showed his mixed heritage.

He stood in tan wide leg dress slacks that sat grown man low on his hips. Clearly, they had been tailored to fit his lean, sinewy body. His Polo-style shirt faded into the muscles in his upper body.

“Shell,” Gabby called to me as she shook my shoulder.

“Oh. Huh?”

She shook her head. “I've been talking to you this whole time. What are you looking at? You okay?”

I looked at her. I hadn't even heard her calling me.

“I'm sorry, but look toward the bar,” I told her. “Guy with the locs and his friend.”

Gabby pretended to be picking up a cloth napkin from the table, then looked at the bar.

“Oh my,” she exclaimed in a whisper.

“My sentiments exactly.”

She sat back and took a sip of her drink, while I pretended the couples on the floor were of interest to me.

“They're coming over here,” she told me.

My leg had started to shake under the table. My nerves were tap dancing all over the place, and the wedding ring on my finger started to burn.

“I know,” I said.

I just didn't know what I was going to do next. I wasn't into the tit-for-tat thing. Didn't want to cheat on Malik because he had cheated on me. Didn't even know if I wanted to entertain another man, even in conversation. Still, Mr. Stranger was getting closer and closer to me, so I was going to have to say something to him whether or not I wanted to.

Beautiful weather, a gorgeous beach house, great food, and now this awesome jazz club; despite a rocky start, our weekend away was sizing up pretty nicely so far. I was glad Shell had agreed to go out tonight, because if anyone needed to get out of her own head, it was her. Thinking about it, if we had stayed in, we probably would have been sitting around commiserating about the respective losers in our lives, chomping on ice cream sundaes. Not that eating ice cream sundaes would have been a bad thing, but that only would have given Shell yet another reason to bring up Malik, the sordid cheating mess, and his incessant disapproval of everything she did.

For as long as I had known Shell, it appeared she could never do anything right in Malik's eyes. Mind you, I was an outsider looking in, but from my perch, I had a pretty good view of the situation. From the way she raised her children, to her cooking and cleaning skills, to the way she wore her hair, to the fact that she had put on weight—Shell could do nothing right. And yet, for someone whom he considered so flawed, it appeared to me that Malik was afraid to lose Shell to another man. Which is why I wasn't surprised when he went all Incredible Hulk on her, green with envy, when Shell started attending some of her classes on campus.

“Why the fuck you gotta go to the school? I thought all your classes were online,” I once heard him say to her while we were on the phone. Shell's school offered the option of a complete online experience, on campus experience, or a combination of both, and although she explained to him that some of the classes were a bit more difficult for her to handle online, he didn't care. Her educational pursuits were not in the least bit important to him.

Malik especially felt threatened by Shell's Introduction to Criminal Law instructor, Professor Hall. He first saw the professor when Shell was taking his Legal Studies course via teleconference. Let's just say Malik knows Shell's type, and the professor fit that bill to a tee: tall, dark skinned, handsome, überfit, impeccably dressed, and nice long locs. Not to mention, he was intelligent, worldly, and was an overall great guy. Everything she could want in a man—and more. But to Shell, Professor Hall was just that, her professor, and she would never cross that line because she believed in the sanctity of marriage, and, unlike her wayward husband, took her vows seriously.

The professor had taken a liking to Shell because of her strong will, stellar work ethic, and determination. Taking her under his wing, he even went so far as to secure her an internship studying abroad in London, England, for a semester. Needless to say, that didn't go over well with Malik, and, much to her disappointment, she ended up turning down possibly the biggest opportunity of her life.

Although she didn't like sharing her personal business, Shell eventually told Professor Hall why she turned down the internship. Despite that, he still wouldn't give up on her; which was why he encouraged her to attend some of his classes on campus, in the hopes that she would reconsider the opportunity she was given, if not now, then sometime in the near future. He told her she had something special, and if she really wanted it badly enough, one day, she would a great attorney.

“Mischelle, you are one of my most promising students, and I don't want to see you waste all that potential. I respect your reasons for turning down the internship, but think about it this way; you're doing this not only for you, but for your children. This would be your legacy to them; an educated black woman who is able to stand on her own two feet. Just think about it, and when you're ready, I'll make it happen. I can promise you that.”

Shell told me what he had said to her. She was in disbelief that someone, especially a man like Professor Hall, would go out of his way like that for her. In her mind, she didn't deserve it. Clearly, that line of thinking had Malik's negative influence all over it.

All of Malik's posturing was quite ironic, considering
he
was the one cheating for who knows how long. Then again, that could explain his attitude; he was stepping out on his marriage and was paranoid that Shell would do the same. As much as I didn't believe in cheating or getting revenge like that, it would definitely serve him right.

Although Malik did a number on Shell with his negative programming, I was pleased to see it wasn't working tonight. She looked absolutely fabulous. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who thought so. Several of the male patrons were giving her head nods and winks whenever she looked in their direction. And then there was the tall chocolate brotha heading our way. Shell had been eye hustling him for the better part of fifteen minutes or so. I should say they were eye hustling each other, because when I followed the direction of Shell's glance, I clearly saw him ogling her just as hard as she was ogling him.

As he approached our table, I could see how nervous Shell was. Her leg began to shake incessantly, and she started rocking like Miss Sophia from
The Color Purple
.

“Shell,” I said, kicking her under the table, “what is the matter with you?”

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?” she replied, still rocking. “Look at him. And he's coming over here.” My left hand was on the table. Shell grabbed it, squeezing the life out of it. “Gabby, he's coming over here!”

I pulled my hand back, trying to shake some circulation back into it. “No kidding, Shell. I can see you know. Now, stop the Miss Sophia routine and relax already.”

“Okay.” She stopped rocking, but then she started breathing like she was in a Lamaze class. I looked at her, shaking my head. Luckily, she stopped when the object of her distress reached our table.

“Good evening, ladies,” he spoke, looking directly at Shell. “My friend and I saw you two lovely ladies sitting here alone and were wondering if we could join you. That is, if you're not waiting for anyone. Boyfriends? Husbands, perhaps?” The man had a baritone to his voice.

I glanced at Shell, pausing to see if she was going to respond. I could have sworn she was about to pass out from fright as she gazed up at the well-dressed stranger. For a moment, he looked very familiar to me, but for the life of me, I couldn't decipher why. Then it dawned on me . . . that picture of Professor Hall that Shell had shown me. Looking at this man, from the way he dressed to his neatly coiffed locs, there was clearly a striking resemblance. Yep, definitely her type.

Shell once told me that she used to be a huge flirt; could flirt as easily as she breathed. At the moment, I found that very hard to believe.

Her lack of a response was killing me, so I quickly chimed in. “No, we're not waiting for anyone. Just enjoying girls' night out. But please, join us.” I motioned for the two men to sit.

Now, generally, I'm pretty paranoid. I guess that comes from being a New Yorker and from watching way too much
Investigation Discovery, Dead of Night, Fatal Encounters, Disappeared;
you name it, I've watched it. Not to mention, all too often I'd hear about some woman who was hurt or murdered by a man she had just met, so I was very leery of strangers. And sure, we didn't know them from Adam, but we were in a well-lit, very public place with loads of people around. What was the worst that could happen, right? However, that didn't stop me from moving Shell's and my drinks to the far side of the table, where only she and I could reach them. I'm just sayin'.

I got up to sit in the seat opposite Shell, allowing her dreamboat to sit next to her, while his friend took the spot next to me.

“My name is Carl,” he said, extending his hand to Shell.

I was shocked when she actually reached out hers and shook it, although she still hadn't said a word.

“Hi, my name is Gabrielle. And my shy friend next to you is Shell.”

“Nice to meet you, ladies. The ugly mug over there is Diego,” Carl said, with a chuckle. We all laughed at that, even Shell.

Diego took my hand, placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said, his voice a deep bass with a hint of an accent.

“The pleasure's all mine,” my lips replied faster my brain.

Did I just say that? Was I actually flirting with this man? Unlike Shell, I never did master the art of the flirt. It just wasn't my thing. I hadn't paid him much attention at first, as I was too busy trying to get Shell to talk, but looking at the man sitting beside me, I mean,
really
looking at him, I realized this man was . . . beautiful. I know it's strange hearing a man described in such a way, but it was true. He was drop-dead gorgeous.

A smooth complexion like a Werther's Original hard candy, light hazel eyes, dark curly hair, and a body that boldly proclaimed, “I spend a lot of time in the gym”; this man was definitely what Shell would call eye candy. Don't get me wrong. I've never been one to fall for the handsome face and nice body, but I could surely appreciate one when I saw it, and at the moment, Diego had my full appreciation.

“Not to pry, but what are you two stunning ladies doing here alone?” Diego asked. He was a slick-tongued charmer as well.

“Like I said, girls' night out. Actually, it's a girls' weekend. We both just needed to get away for some R&R,” I responded, hoping I wasn't blushing.

Diego smiled, flashing his perfectly white teeth. “In that case, I hope we are not intruding.”

I smiled back. “Not at all. We don't mind the company, do we, Shell?” I asked. She still appeared to be in a daze, so I once again kicked her under the table.

“Huh? Oh no, we don't mind,” she finally answered.

“Ah, she speaks,” Carl teased. “Does she dance as well?” He stood up, extending his hand to her.

“Sure she does,” I interjected.

Yeah, I know I should have minded my own business, especially because Shell was a married woman, and according to her ratchet worse half, I was the whore of Babylon, but it was only a dance. Besides, from our vantage point, I had full view of the dance floor, so I would be keeping my eyes on both of them.

“You two go ahead, but stay where I can see you,” I said, more serious than joking.

That got a response from Shell. “Yes, Mom. Whatever you say.”

I was tempted to do something childish, like stick my tongue out at her, but I refrained. Instead, I gave her the “You better act like you know” look, then smiled at her. She smiled back, took Carl's hand, and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

Once they were gone, I shifted my focus back to the man sitting beside me. All of a sudden, I was at a loss for words, which, for me, was extremely rare. But then again, I was in a situation that I was not used to; talking one-on-one with a very attractive man. I had been in a relationship for twelve years, so I didn't have to worry about dating or having meaningful conversation. At that moment, it dawned on me . . . When it came to mackin', I had no skills whatsoever. It was a skill I never needed because every guy I dated was a friend first. I never had to worry about the awkward conversational pauses because we were already comfortable with each other.

Diego must have sensed my trepidation, because he broke the ice. “Gabrielle is a beautiful name. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

“Thank you,” I replied, again hoping I wasn't blushing.

“Tell me, how does your boyfriend feel about you coming out here without him?”

Nice segue
, I thought to myself. “I don't have a boyfriend.”

“I'm guessing you don't have a husband either.”

“Now why would you think that?” I questioned.

Diego pointed to my left hand. “Unlike your friend over there,” he responded, nodding his head in Shell's direction, “you're not wearing a ring. Please correct me if I'm wrong.”

I smiled at him, liking his candor. “Very observant,” I uttered. “By the way, don't think I didn't notice the ring on Carl's finger,” I countered, looking in Shell and Carl's direction. They appeared to be having a good time.

“But to answer your question, I am not, nor have I ever been, married. You?” I figured since he was all in my business, I was going to get into his.

Flashing me a grin, he answered, “I've never been married, and I don't have a girlfriend.”

That was good to know, I thought.

“If you don't mind me asking, why are you single?”

I really didn't like talking about myself or my personal life, but there was something about Diego that I liked, and while I still intended to keep my guard up, there was no harm in letting him in on the bare minimum.

“I was in a very long relationship. I've been single for about six months. Honestly, I needed to get to know me again.”

“That's understandable, although I would like to get to know you as well. That is, if you would allow me,” he said, that megawatt smile lighting up his face.

I smiled back. “As entertaining as that might be,” I started, “we're only here until Sunday, and there's a lot we want to do—”

“Such as?” he cut me off.

“Well, Shell and I planned to spend a good part of the weekend at the Savannah Black Heritage Festival. They have different events scheduled all weekend, and we already planned to check a few of them out.”

He gave me a knowing look. “What a coincidence. Our company is sponsoring free health assessments at the fair. Blood pressure readings, HIV screenings, body composition, blood sugar testing, and cancer awareness. These are the issues affecting the black and Latino communities, so we wanted to focus on them at the fair. Our company is very big on community service,” he said with pride.