Always (8 page)

I attended school at University of Southern Cal. Although I wanted to attend school on the East Coast, Dad told me he would not pay for it, and I certainly wasn't eligible for federal financial aid or anything, so I decided to go close to home.

SC wasn't that bad. I got to meet a lot of famous people, like Haywood Nelson. Remember him from
What's Happening
? He and I were supposed to go out once, but that's another story. He was a nice guy, though. I also used to watch, with all the other girls, O.J. and A.D., Anthony Davis, run around the track there during the off-season. Yes, they were both very fine and O.J. was very married, but that never stopped them from flirting.

Anyway, back to the story. I wanted to go to Europe to study like a few of my white friends' parents let them do every year. Well, my dad, who always squeezed a quarter until the eagle screamed, told me no. But he said there was a lot of this country I had never seen, so if I made straight A's, he would let me see America any way I wanted to or go to any school in the country to study for the summer. Not exactly Europe, but if you knew my father, you would be very satisfied to get that. So I did the 4.0 and decided not to go to school that summer. I had a friend who wanted to visit a few schools on the East Coast to decide which one she would attend the following spring. Her list was Temple, Brown, the University of Rhode Island, and Florida State. Well, I was all for it when she said Temple, because that was just a hop, skip, and jump from New York City.

At this time I was twenty years old and she was nineteen,
and believe it or not, for some reason we decided to drive across country for this adventure.

Two days later we arrived, checked into the hotel, showered, then she slept for about an hour before heading off to see the campus. I don't know where she got all that energy. When she left, I went for a swim and I saw this guy who worked at the hotel watching me. He was pretty easy on the eyes, but I could not see myself dating a maintenance man. So I finished my swim and went back to the room and I got this call from the really cute and sexy guy at the front desk. He was kinda stocky, but he wore this bush (which is what we called them before Afros), sorta like Haywood's now that I think about it. I think he was a student at one of the universities in town. So this guy was making his supposed courtesy call. And I played along because he talked kinda cute. He had that Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia thing going in his voice, and it sounded sexy for some reason. It wasn't hillbilly twangy sounding. Just made him sound sincere and earnest or something. Anyway, he finished his call and I got a book to read. I had been waiting to read John Updike's
Couples
for some time, but I fell asleep after the first chapter.

The next morning we went for breakfast and everyone in the restaurant knew we were not from out of state when my friend Veronica asked the waitress to show her a grit. When we returned, there was a single rose on my pillow. I thought,
Now, I know this is the South and they are supposed to be hospitable, but this is a little too much
. Veronica, who was a Valley girl before there was such a phrase, put her hands on her hips and said, “So, like . . . where is mine?” In '73 Valley girls were just considered plain old stuck-up rich girls.

“I don't know,” I said, still puzzled, and then it occurred to me why
slick
at the counter was smiling so much when we returned from breakfast. I didn't tell her anything as I sat down to inhale the flower's scent and noticed he'd squirted a little cologne on it. Although the smell mixed with the aroma of the rose, it was sensual. The cologne was airy and I couldn't place it. It was an intensely masculine
smell with not a hint of sweetness to it, which I have always hated on men. As I enjoyed the fragrance, Ms. Veronica watched, and if my memory serves me correctly, steam was actually coming from the back of her neck and ears.

“Aha, yes, front desk? . . . Aha, yes, can you, like, help me? . . . Aha, we just, like, returned to our room? . . . Yes, 213? . . . Yes, and, aha, we only received, like,
one
fla'war?”

Now, I know I should have stopped her. I know I should have told her I had a good idea who had left this, but I think you can see why I did not. She had her hand on her narrow hips and was moving that index finger in a tight circle as if they were speaking face-to-face. Although her dad was a physician, when she wanted it, the Inglewood in her would come out in a flash.

“Aha, like, excuse me? . . . So, like, how did this fla'war get in here? . . . Aha, excuse me, Jed.” And then she looked at me, and said, “I got Jed Clampett on the phone, you wanna talk to him? Listen, Jethro, stop wrestling with Elly May and answer my question. If we would have, like, brought it here, wouldn't I, like, know it, dahhh?”
Click
. “Well, that basically crosses Florida State off my list. I don't think I could live in a state for four years that's this, like, illiterate?”

I was cramping from, like, holding in the laughter.

The next day we went to Panama City to check out the world-famous Florida beaches, and when we came back, once again there was a single red rose. So now I had to tell Veronica who I thought was doing it, and she was not as mad as I thought she would be. Still mad because she had not gotten one, but not as mad.

“So we're only going to be here one more day, silly Billy. Why don't you go talk to him?”

“Talk to him? What would I say?”

“Anything short of ‘Let me blow you' is fair game. I do it all the time,” she said, painting her toenails pink and green.

“What would you say?”

“Well, first you have to make sure it was him, and then say something like, ‘I wanted to personally thank you for the fla'wars. It was very sweet. You are very sweet. Where
I am from, guys are not usually that sweet. I bet you taste sweet.' And then say, ‘Can I blow you?'”

Veronica ducked as I threw a pillow at her head while laughing.

At about a quarter to five I nervously headed toward the front desk, because I suspected he would leave about the same time he left the day before, at five o'clock. So I'm walking along, practicing what I am going to say, when this guy passes me. It was the maintenance guy from the day before. The one thing I immediately noticed was how crisply his uniform was starched this time. For some reason, and I didn't know why, I stopped and turned around. He was still walking, but damn, he made khaki come to life.

So I stood there for a moment and it occurred to me why I stopped. It was the cologne he was wearing. He was wearing the same cologne the guy at the front desk had squirted on the flowers. He continued to walk, and I did something I had never done before. I said, “Excuse me, sir?” As he stopped and slowly turned toward me, I said, “I'm just curious, what cologne are you wearing?”

“Do you like it?” he asked with a smile.

My blood stopped. I remember my knees shaking and feeling weak. I cannot remember what I said when I saw those dimples. The next thing I know, he was walking toward me. I looked back at the front desk with a part of me hoping the guy had not left yet and a part of me praying he had.

The maintenance man said low and sexy, “It's called High North. Do you like it?” What was I going to say? He continued, “I usually put on a few squirts in the morning and it lasts all day.” Then he smiled and walked away.

I didn't like light-skinned brothers. My mom was fair complexioned and my dad was the bluest of blacks, and even though I am considered dark by most people, I like my coffee straight, but I was smitten by this brother.

As he walked away, I wanted to scream “Come back” or something, but I had no idea what to say next. And then I thought of what Veronica would say. “Can I blow you?”
No, not that. Then he turned, and said, “Ya know, this stuff also smells great on roses.”

And that was the day I met my husband. It was May 15, 1973, at about ten to five. I was twenty years old, and I will never forget that day as long as I live.

Washington, D.C.

NBS News Studio

9:40
P.M
. EST

“Okay, America, let's assess where we are at this point. I'm told NBS News will be able to make a call in six to eight races within the half hour. Unlike before, I think we will have a few surprises. Right now, Senator Henry L. Davis the Second of Florida has taken a commanding lead in the race and has sixty-four electoral votes. That's sixty-four for the junior senator from Florida. Thus far Vice President Ronald Steiner has only carried two states, for a total of twelve votes. And as we reported earlier, Governor Tom has yet to hit pay dirt, although he was running neck and neck with Steiner in Connecticut and Davis in Kentucky. Now for the latest on the Steiner campaign we will take you back out to the City of the Big Shoulders, Chicago, Illinois, and Judy Finestein. Judy, are you there?”

“Yes, Franklin, I'm here along with this very optimistic crowd of supporters. Although the numbers are not looking promising at this point, it has not deterred the spirits of the supporters. There has been singing and dancing to the sounds of a couple of local bands, and the mood is generally one of excitement. I have with me the Steiner Illinois campaign chairman, Peter Delahouse of Kankakee, Illinois. I hope I am pronouncing that correctly, Peter. Peter—”

“Judy! This is Franklin Dunlop in Washington. Would you please stand by because we are prepared to make calls in several key states.

“America, these are the up-to-the-minute results. We are projecting that Vice President Ronald Steiner will win in the following states: Vermont, New Hampshire, Nebraska, and
North Dakota. NBS News is also projecting that Governor Tom Baldwin will carry the following states: Oklahoma, the Peach State of Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi. And I just got word that we are projecting a victory for Tom Baldwin in the state of Tennessee. The state of Louisiana was picked up, we are now told, by Senator Henry Davis. So if you are keeping score at home, with 280 electoral votes needed to win, this is what it looks like.”

DAVIS	73
STEINER	27
BALDWIN	48

“There is more to come after these messages.”

Carol City, Florida

The Allen Residence

With every passing car, Cheryl's head turned away from the television screen. If he were like most guys, she could have located him very easily. He would be at a friend's house or watching the level of beer go down in an uptilted mug at a bar. But Brandon was not like most guys. He worked the midnight-to-ten shift for the Dade County Sheriff's Department as a patrolman, which he had done since graduating from the academy several years earlier. He'd been the top cadet in his class and had a bright future with the force. As she sat, she thought about how decent and kind he had been to her since day one. How he had never asked for anything but her love. How he had handled so easily their twelve-year age disparity and how she should never have told him that deep inside, she was still in love with Henry.