I Saw Your Profile (8 page)

    
Arianna didn’t take
Kevin’s advice.

    
She figured there was
no harm in online dating as long as she was careful. If the brother turned out
to be perpetrating, she would just cut him loose.

    
Most of the men she
met in person didn’t get a second date.

    
Like the one whose
picture made him look six-feet tall, but who was actually five-seven and
weighed a hundred and thirty-five pounds.

    
 
He was t
oo damned skinny. P
lus, he had a Napoleon complex and drove a
Navigator he practically needed a booster seat to drive.
     

    
At dinner, he bored
her to death with stories about his childhood that only he found funny.

    
Then there was the
brother with five kids who talked all through lunch about how his wife left him
for a white guy she met online. They were getting married and buying a house
together. And men say sisters have too much baggage?

    
Turned out his wife’s
Caucasian lover and soon to be husband was an ad rep at the Press Herald.
Arianna heard he liked to dip his spoon in black coffee, but she didn’t think
he’d give up the cream at home to drink the whole cup. Talk about a small
world.

    
Arianna’s poor date
probably figured if his wife could meet somebody online so could he. Arianna
let him know she wasn’t the one.

    
One guy took her out
for coffee and asked a million times if she was sure she was single because all
the women he met online lied about being married. He got one pregnant and found
out she was married when she asked for money to have an abortion. Her husband,
a sailor, was coming home from deployment and no way could she explain away a baby.

    
Plus, he wore cheap
shoes. Enough said?

    
The shit had become
downright comical. Just when she was about to give up, she got an email from a man
who intrigued her.

Your smile is pure beauty. It radiates warmth that can provide shelter
from the cold. Your chocolate skin glows like the stars. I’m sure men melt to
your touch and find you captivating. Your pic tells me you are very beautiful
and sexy. I would enjoy
learning more about the woman you are inside.
As
for me, I am an entrepreneur. A single, divorced father of
one who loves poetry and romancing that someone special. Tell me more about you
please
.

AGOODBODY4LIFE

    
She didn’t know
whether to be turned on or off by his screen name. Either he was a gym rat who
was really into fitness, which she didn’t mind, or someone conceited and hung
up on his looks, which she did.

    
As a writer, she liked
his poetic way with words. He was at least worth a reply.

Thanks
for responding to my profile. I’m single with two children, 16 and 10. I’m a
writer and I live in Philadelphia. I love to read, dance, go to movies and play
board games. I also love to work out and I like pool, although I’m still
learning how to play. What are some of your hobbies and what do you do for a
living? Also, you have an advantage over me; you’ve seen what I look like. Do
you have a pic you could
share?

Arianna

    
Her newest admirer
replied several days later.

Arianna,

 
Thank you for such an expeditious
response. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you. I was out of town
on business. In answer to your questions, I am a self-employed fitness
consultant. We have a lot in common. I, too, work out religiously. Perhaps we
could work out together. I also love to play pool and would love to teach you.
And I am an avid Scrabble player. As a wordsmith, I assume you play?

I’m
sending along a photo of myself. I hope you like it. Let me know in your reply.

AGOODBODY4LIFE

    
If the picture was
real, he was tall, two shades brighter than midnight, handsome and had every right
to call himself Good Body.

    
He was wearing a
string tank top that exposed his muscles. An animal tattoo decorated the
well-toned triceps of his right arm and a diamond stud sparkled from his right
ear lobe.

 
     
A smart, charming
brother who had so many things in common with her seemed too good to be true.
She wanted to get to know Mr. Good Body a little better.

Chapter Eight

It
was half-time.

Nicole had screamed
herself hoarse. She stepped into the hallway outside the community center gym
to buy a bottle of water from the booster club.

   
“Let me get a candy bar,
too,” she said.

    
Behind her, she heard
a familiar voice. “Careful. You don’t want all that time you been spending in
the gym with your London lover to go to waste.”

    
She turned around to
see Jamal, her ex-boyfriend and Jay’s father. He wore dreads, was the color of
milk chocolate, and looked just as tasty. Nicole secretly hated that he always
managed to look so good.

  
“Surprised to see you here, Mr.
Franklyn.”

  
Nicole paid for her refreshments
and walked to a water fountain away from the nosy parents behind the counter.

 
“Since when are you so formal with your
baby’s daddy, Nikki?”

 
“That’s Nicole to you.”

 
“You used to love it when I called you
Nikki.”

 
“That was then. This is now.”

 
“How many points my boy score so far?”

 
“Six. How’d you know he even had a game
tonight?”

    
“Jay told me. Guess he
knows he can’t depend on his mother to do it.”

    
“Please, Jamal. I
stopped telling you about his games because you’re always too busy to come.”

    
“Not always.”

    
“Whatever. How come
you’re free tonight?”

    
“I was hoping I could
take him with me for the weekend after the game?”

    
“Does Jay know this?”

“Not yet. I wanted
to talk to you first.”

    
Jay’s team returned
from the locker room and started shooting lay ups.

    
“Let’s sit down. The
second half is about to start,” Nicole said.

    
As they headed for the
bleachers, Jay noticed his parents. His face glowed when he saw his father and
he waved from the court. Jamal smiled and waved back.

    
Nicole opened her
water and took a sip. “What’s up, Jamal? I feel like you’re here for more than
to watch our son play ball.”

 
 
“You’re right. You always did know me.
I’m seeing someone, Nikki.”

   
“That’s news? You’re always
seeing somebody. Usually more than one somebody. That’s why we’re not together,
remember?”

    
“Let’s not go there. I
mean I’m seeing someone special. And she wants to meet Jay.”

    
“Oh. Now you want to
use my son to impress your women?”

    
“It’s not like that. I
think she might be the one and if she is, I want her to meet my son. She
will
be a part of his life.”

    
Nicole rolled her
eyes. “You’re kidding right? You’re barely a part of his life. I think he needs
to get to know you before he gets to know your future ex-wife.”

    
The game started with
the other team having possession of the ball. Nicole started clapping and
yelling. “Okay now, defense! Put your hands up Jay! Play that ‘D.’”

    
She looked out of
place shouting from the bleachers in her beige Ellen Tracey silk skirt suit,
but she didn’t have time to change after work. Chauncey had dropped Jay off on
his way to see a client.

   
 
Jamal was amused by her exuberance.

     
“Calm down, Nik.
You gonna make the boy self-conscious. Let his coach tell him what to do.”

     
“Don’t tell me
how to encourage my son. I’m the parent who comes to
every
game. The one
who is
always
here for him.”

    
Jamal frowned. “Damn!
Why can’t we ever have a conversation without you taking it there?”

    
He leaned forward,
causing his locks to fall into his eyes.
     
He pulled them
away, lowering his voice.

    
“Look, Nikki. I’m
sorry things didn’t work out between you and me. I wasn’t the knight in shining
armor your father was, and I admit I could be a better father to Jay. But
that’s why I’m here. Because I want to start.”

    
“Because of this new
woman?”

    
“Heather’s part of
it.”

    
“Heather? She white?”

    
“Of course not.”

    
“It’s not like you’ve
never had jungle fever.”

   
 
“That was for play. This is for real.
Heather has a son, and we want the boys to meet, to get to know each other.”

    
“Well if Heather helps
you become a better father, then more power to her. When do I get to meet her?
If she’s going to be a part of my son’s life, I’d like to get to know her.”

     
“That’s cool.
She’ll be over tonight. Why don’t you pick up Jay’s clothes after the game and
come by later? You can meet her then.”

 
    
Jay scored, sending
both his parents to their feet.

    
“Yeah, Jay! That’s my
boy!” Jamal shouted.

    
Nicole’s praises
followed. “Good job, Jay.”

    
When they took their
seats, Nicole began to unwrap her candy bar.

    
“You sharing?” Jamal
asked.

    
Nicole handed him the
whole thing. “Take it. I don’t need it.”

   
 
“By the way how are things between you
and London Fog?”

    
“His name is
Chauncey.”

    
“My bad. For real,
though Nikki. What do you see in that guy? You know somethin ain’t right with
him.”

    
“No, Jamal. I don’t
know that. And you are the last person I would talk to about my relationship.”

    
“You should. Guys know
guys. But I’ll leave it alone.”

    
They watched the rest
of the game showing enthusiasm for their son’s performance, but with few words
passing between them.

    
Nicole was distracted
thinking about Jamal’s comment. He wasn’t the only person who’d told her they
didn’t trust Chauncey and, after two years, she was beginning to have her own
doubts.

    
Chauncey’s clients
called all the time, day and night. Why women needed to call a personal trainer
at those ridiculous hours was beyond her, but it was how he made his living, so
she didn’t complain. Instead, she asked him to use his cell phone for business
so she didn’t have to be bothered with the calls.

    
His clients were
professional women who believed a seventy-five dollar-an-hour personal training
session every week was a necessity - and they had the paychecks to afford it.

    
He did his work in
their homes. Most gyms had trainers on staff and didn’t allow freelancers to
use their facilities. He turned down offers from several gyms because he didn’t
have working papers, something Nicole had yet to get a straight answer about.

    
He told her working
for himself was more beneficial since health clubs took their share from clients
before paying the trainer.
 

    
Nicole began to wonder
whose pockets the money was actually going in or if he was even making any
money at all. Lots of clients called but Chauncey always cried broke. She paid
the twelve-hundred-dollar-a-month mortgage on the townhouse. He paid the
utilities. He owned his truck outright, but she paid the insurance. When she
asked him to contribute more, he always gave excuses; clients didn’t show up
for appointments or checks hadn’t cleared. Nicole’s patience was wearing thin.
 

    
Two years. No ring. No
talk of a ring.

    
Most of her friends
didn’t like Chauncey. They tolerated him for her sake.

    
About a month after he
moved in, they were at the gym working out when her soror Candace, a cute
mahogany sister who was built like a Buick, came in. Nicole introduced her to
Chauncey and then went to play racquetball.

    
When Chauncey saw
Candace heading toward the weights, he immediately insisted on showing her some
techniques. Candace made it clear she didn’t need his help, but noticed several
sisters in the gym had no problem pretending they’d never seen a dumbbell.

    
Later, at the showers,
Candace told Nicole about the women who had approached Chauncey and how he was
more than happy to oblige. Too happy, Candace thought. He even pocketed a
telephone number.

    
“How serious are you
about this man, Nikki?” Candace asked.

“Why?”

“You
want me to be honest?”

    
“I haven’t stopped you
from speaking your mind any other time.”

“I
don’t trust him.”

    
“What are you basing
that on? Did he hit on you or something?”

    
“No. I wouldn’t go
that far. He’s too comfortable with other women, though. I can’t put my finger
on it. All I can tell you is there is something about him I don’t trust. And my
instincts are usually right.”

    
“Well I can’t kick him
to the curb based on
your
instincts, Candy. I need more than that to go on.”

    
“Who asked you to kick
him to the curb? I’m just telling you to watch out. Take it for what it’s
worth.”

    
Nicole took a long sip
of water and looked at Jamal. A grin covered his face and his eyes were glued
to the basketball court.

 
    
Why couldn’t he show
this much interest in his son when we were together? I’m the mother of his
child. Why wasn’t I reason enough for him to want to be a good man.

    
His words rang in her
head
. Guys know guys. Somethin ain’t
right with him.

    
A bad feeling was
beginning to drown her like a tidal wave. She tried to shake it by focusing on
the source of the advice.

    
Who is
he to tell me anything after the way he treated me?

    
Nicole and Jamal were
college sweethearts at Hampton University, communications majors who met
sophomore year over dry hamburgers in the student union. They had planned to
get married right after graduation. Jamal decided to wait until he was settled
in his career so instead they moved in together.

    
Nicole wasn’t thrilled
about shacking up, but her desire to be with Jamal was stronger than her
mother’s warnings.

    
After a year of living
together in their Baltimore apartment, she found out she was pregnant. Neither
Jamal nor her parents were thrilled, but their attitude changed when Jay
arrived.

    
Jamal was making good
money at a Baltimore marketing firm, so Nicole quit her job as a part time
copywriter for a local television station to stay home with her new son.

    
It was tough for
Nicole to depend on someone else for everything from clothes to tampons. Worse,
Jamal took advantage of her dependence.

    
Six months after the
baby came, the sweet, sensitive man she met in college had turned into a
control freak. He limited her to one new outfit and a pair of shoes every three
months, but bought new clothes for himself regularly and was hardly ever home.

    
After the baby’s first
birthday, she went back to work at the station full time as a producer. She
bought a new wardrobe and upgraded from a compact to a Jeep.

    
As soon as she saved
enough money for first and last month’s rent on her own place, she left.

    
Jamal came home to
find a moving truck backed up to the front door.
 

    
“Where the hell do you
think you are taking my son?” he shouted.