Can't Get Enough of Your Love (36 page)

I'll bet there isn't even an agreement at all. This is all part of the scam. “Look,” I say, “I came here to …”

“To do what, Peanut?” Karl asks. “Why did you come here? It wasn't for the coffee. The fancy stuff you made was much better than this stuff.”

Izzie sighs. “Like I told you, boo. She adds some hot chocolate mix. There's nothing fancy about it.”

I feel five sets of eyes on me. “Look, I came here just to see you guys, okay? I just wanted to see you.”

Roger smiles. “Here we are.”

“No, I mean, I came here to—”

Monique puts a finger in my face, ripping into me with staccato bursts of Spanish.

“What's she saying?” I ask Juan Carlos.

Juan Carlos blinks rapidly. “You do not want to know.”

Other diners around us are looking our way, first to listen, and then to watch Monique's girls bobbing up and down.

“I didn't come here to cause a scene, Monique, and you can quit cussing me in Spanish,” I say. I wait until she takes a breath to swat her finger from my face. Then I stand and lean over the table. “I do not want your man. Juan Carlos only wants you.” And your boobies. “Grow up.”

Monique looks ready to cut me. “That is right. He wants me. He has tried the rest, and now he has the best.” She pushes Juan Carlos past Roger, out of the booth, and through the other tables and booths to the front door.

Bye, Juan Carlos. I hope you and the “twins” have a nice life.

The other diners go back to their food, and silence reigns at the table again.

Izzie makes a big production number out of finishing her coffee, slurping the last little bit. “Let's go home, boo.”

“Yeah,” Karl says. He stands. “Good to see you again, Peanut. Later, Roger.”

And they leave.

Roger hasn't moved from the other end of the table. The chess game continues. It's my move.

“I met your fiancée.”

“She's something, huh?” he replies.

Hmm. “Aren't you going to move down here?”

Roger shrugs. “I just warmed up this seat.”

A stalemate. Great. I slide to his end. “Now, do you have—”

Lisa arrives with Roger's breakfast, and he immediately digs in. Great, just great. He looks up every now and then, the tiniest smile on his lips.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” I ask.

He nods. “I knew you'd come.”

“You couldn't have known I'd be here this morning.”

“Sure I did. You're too much of a competitor not to be here.”

Huh? “And who or what am I competing against? Lisa?”

He wipes his lips with a napkin. “Ah, she's a great gal. She serves me food, smiles at me, likes my jokes. She even flirts with me.”

“I do all that.”

“Did.”

I hate the past tense. “Okay, I
did
all that.”

“Times three,” he says.

Ouch.

“The first time we came here, you know what happened?” he asks. “We talked of nothing but you, Lana. Just you.”

Should I be flattered? “Why? I just hurt you all.”

“Oh, we cussed you up and down, too. Juan knows some really cool curses. Want to hear some?”

“I've heard them all.”

He nods. “Oh. Yeah. He told us about that. Did you really say he had PMS?”

Geez, what
didn't
they talk about? “Yes.”

“Remind me never to go dancing with you.”

“As if you'd ever let me dance with you.”

He squints. “I might. As long as there isn't a crowd. I don't like crowds.”

So many hidden meanings today. “Is there anything y'all
don't
know about me?”

He looks at the ceiling. “I … No, I don't think so. We discussed every inch of your body in detail. It made me right horny. Looking at you now …” He grunts. “Your body is talking to me again.”

I know I am blushing under all this makeup. “But did y'all have anything nice to say about me?”

He squints. “Other than about your body? Hmm. Let's see … After all the cursing died down, we said lots of nice things about you, but we agreed right here at this table not to—”

“I know, I know,” I interrupt. “Not to be with me again.”

He sits back and squirms a bit. “Oh. I do have it.” He brings a folded napkin to the table.

I try to snatch it, but Roger pulls it back. “Let me see it, Roger.”

“Why?”

“I need closure or something.”

“Why? What's being closed?”

“Look, y'all have gotten on with your lives, and … I need to start mine over. So, show me the damn napkin.” The classy lady has officially left IHOP.

He unfolds the napkin and spins it around to me.

Above the signatures, I read: “We the undersigned agree on this day not to be with Lana Peanut Cole ever again unless one of us doesn't have a lady in his life.”

My hands get a little sweaty. Does this mean what I think it means? “This isn't what I expected.”

“Life rarely is,” Roger says. “Let's see … Karl has Izzie, or is it the other way around? Hmm. They have each other. And Monique definitely has Juan. I already pity him. So that leaves … me. Again. I'm once again the last possible choice, the bronze medalist.”

Who isn't bronze! Well, his freckles are kind of bronze, but… “What about Lisa?”

“Oh, I'm afraid I'm much too old for her. She likes ‘em young.”

I re-read the agreement. “So you don't have a lady in your life.”

“Nope. I'm single. The name's Roger.” He sticks out his hand.

But my hand is too sweaty! I shake his hand quickly. “Erlana Joy.”

“Erlana Joy?”

I can't look at him. “My daddy's name was Earl, and Mama's name is Lana. Earl-Lana. Erlana Joy.”

“Nice to meet you, Erlana Joy.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

Silence. It's as if we're starting completely over. I don't want to take this slow. I want to jump back in where we were before. I mean, we have a history, right? We have plenty to talk about, and here we are listening to the sound of forks and spoons hitting plates around us. I'm sure if we listen really hard, we'll hear old people pooting.

“You know what?” he asks suddenly.

“What?”

“I'd like to ask you out on a date, Erlana Joy.”

Oh, my heart! “A date?”

“Yeah. That's how folks usually start relationships, you know.”

Hope? Is that what I'm feeling? “Yeah. I guess they do.”

“Not that we'll have a relationship. We'll just have to, you know, take it slow, see what happens.”

“Right.”

“I mean, how would it look if we just suddenly, oh, I don't know, made love on the floor of my apartment on our first date while people are walking by outside?” He smiles. “You know, I don't think we ever really had an official first date.”

“No,” I say, “we didn't.” I look up into those hazel
eyes. “Roger, do you still want to be with me after all that's happened?”

“Well … Yes and no.”

I hold my breath.

“You see, I once knew this woman named Lana. She did me wrong. She hurt me bad. She broke my heart. She ruined my life. She made my life a living hell. She made me—”

“I get the picture,” I interrupt.

“No,” he says, “I'm not sure you do. I was down on my knees in front of this woman with an engagement ring, and I was so sure she was going to say yes. Instead, her other two boyfriends showed up.” He stares hard at me, and I look away. “You can imagine how … lost and how hurt I felt. I never want to feel that way again.”

“I'm so sorry, Roger.”

“Why should you be sorry? I was talking about a girl named Lana. Your name is Erlana Joy, right?”

I nod. “Right.”

“And while I don't agree with your methods, I am willing to give you another chance.” His voice catches. “Yeah. I'm willing to … to try again, but only if we take things slow, okay? I'm not going to be in a rush to get on my knees again.”

I nod, though my heart hurts.

“But, if I ever had to get on my knees again for anyone, it would be for you.”

My eyes well with tears. I think I've finally found the man of my dreams.

“Now, I know all this is a big step for you, Erlana Joy,” he says.

“What is?”

“Settling for just one guy.” He wags a finger at me. “I've heard an awful lot about you. I know all your secrets.”

There's a scary thought. He probably knows more about me than I do.

“But, I want you to know that I've been practicing my Spanish.”

Huh? “What?”

“I've been practicing my Spanish. I bought some tapes and everything, and I listen to them every night. Juan helps when he can, too, and now I'm pretty sure I can ask just about anyone in Mexico where the bathroom is.
Donde esta el baño?
”

I laugh, and a tear spills down my nose onto the table.

“I even listen to Led Zeppelin. I play a mean air guitar, let me tell you.”

“Roger, you don't have to—”

“And Karl's going to help me be a better plot salesman,” he interrupts. “He's going to help me talk people into buying ‘eternal real estate'—that's what he calls it. And if I cut your grass enough without my shirt on all
next
summer …” He pauses and looks into my eyes. “If I do that all next summer, all my freckles will congeal into one dark orangish-brownish color, which you seem to like so much.”

I stand and slide in next to him, taking his hand. “I love you just the way you are, Roger.”

Damn. I just said the word “love” to a man. I need to wring out my hands!

“And I love you
any
way you are, Erlana Joy,” he says, and then, well, we make out right there in the booth at IHOP.

With lots of tongue and some, um, wandering hands.

When I let him catch his breath, I ask, “Can you please get my ring back from Lisa?”

“You want
her
ring?”

“It was meant for me, not to be worn by Old Lisa Lou, a woman serving pancakes at an IHOP.”

“But why would you want her ring”—he pulls out a black velvet box from his back pocket, popping it open—”when
this
is the ring I wanted to give you?”

I look into the box, and I'm looking at the only bling I'm going to need for the rest of my life. “Then what ring is Lisa wearing?”

“Some ring Karl had in his pocket that night.”

I squeeze the life out of his hand.

“It wasn't a ring Karl planned to give to you, Lana. It was cubic zirconia or something, and I tipped Lisa with it.”

“Oh.”

The ring is still in the box. It shouldn't be in the box. It should be on my finger.

“Aren't you going to put it on me?”

Roger sighs and sits back. “I don't know. I mean, I've just said I want to take it slow, and if I suddenly just… gave it to you, then I'd be contradicting myself. I don't like to contradict myself.” He shrugs. “Maybe someday, but … not right now.” He closes the box.

Oh no!

“But I have been looking at it for so long, imagining how it would look on your finger.”

“So stop imagining!” I shout. I stare the other diners back to their omelets.

Roger sits back. “You'll forgive me if I hesitate, I mean, I have to know about a thousand things about you first.”

A thousand? “I thought you knew everything about me.”

“I know a lot, but I don't know everything.”

“What do you want to know?”

“I wrote down everything I need to know about you at the apartment, right on the back of that list we made. Do you remember that list?”

I nod. “I have a few more places to add to that list.”

“You do?”

I nod. “This booth, for one. Have you heard about something called the ‘Mile High Club'?”

He nods.

“I haven't decided whether I want to do it in an airplane or a hot air balloon.”

“Why not both?”

“Yeah, why not?”

He exhales a long, slow breath. “Well. Hmm. Well, I'll have to remember the new list I made from memory.” He looks at the ceiling. “Oh, the first one was: Do you have any more men in your life? For all we knew that night, we might have been only three of maybe six or seven in your life, like maybe you had one for every night of the week.”

I cradle his face with my hands. “I am looking at the only man for my every night of the week and for every one of my dreams. Any more questions?”

He looks up at the ceiling again. “Uh, that response answered the other nine hundred ninety-nine.” He squeezes my leg. “You'll need to stand up for a second.”

I stand, and he slides by me.

Then he kneels—here it comes!—and he …

He picks up a napkin.

“Scoot down,” he says. I do, and he digs back into his breakfast.

What the? It was the
perfect
time! I
would
have said yes! And he picks up a damn napkin? The nerve!

“I talked to your mama about all this the other night, and she told me how difficult you might make this.”

No … he … didn't! And no
she
didn't!

“Remember the night you called your mama about getting a makeover?”

I nod. Mama knew the whole … damn … time! She was making me over just for this moment! She was making me over for Roger!

“I was there when you called, and your mama and I, um, well, we came to an agreement of sorts.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, and it wasn't easy. She's a tough lady.”

I nod. She is. And I'm as tough as she is. Now.

“She says that as long as I let her visit us out in the country, and that I make and
keep
you happy, I can marry you one day. I hope I can do all that. If I ever did ask you again, would you marry me, Erlana Joy?”