Now Wouldn't You Like to Know (6 page)

“Sheldon,” Diana’s voice said softly.

“Yes,” I asked, glancing over at her.

“I’m sorry for being so much trouble and such a bore the past few hours.”

“Listen,” I said, then stressed. “We’re both human beings, right?”

“Yes.”

“So, being human, we have a tendency to get on one another’s nerves, right?”

“It seems that way.”

“Now, I’m not saying you got on my nerves but the situation you find yourself in is what got the best of me back there. That’s all I’m saying. So please, don’t hold it against me.”

“I promise I won’t,” she said breaking into a smile.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” she came back, her smile widening.

“Then prove it,” I said.

Leaning over towards me, she planted a wet kiss on my cheek and said, “All is forgiven.”

“I guess I’m ready for dinner now that I’ve had dessert.”

We both laughed.

“You know, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you?”

“And what’s that?”

“I don’t know if you remember this but the day before we met, I saw you standing on a corner not far from where I picked you up yesterday morning. Do you remember?”

“Oh yes, I was hoping to flag down a cab and if I couldn’t, I’d catch a bus. Like I said, my car is in the shop.”

“Now, do you remember the white guy in a pickup truck who stopped his truck in the middle of traffic so that his passenger could flirt with you?”

“Matter of fact, I do remember that truck and that particular guy. Why do you ask? And how did you know that?”

“Well, I happened to be right behind that pickup that day and there was something he asked you that I couldn’t hear.”

“Oh, I remember now. So that was you who looked my way after that pickup had taken off,” Diana beamed.

“Yes, that was me,” I confirmed. “And I was quite curious about what it was he asked of you. Though I heard your response, I did not hear what he said to you.”

“Oh, you mean when I said, now wouldn’t you like to know? Is that what you are talking about?”

“Exactly,” I said. “So, what did he say and why did you say what you said in return?”

“He asked me if it was true that Black women were better lovers than white women. And in response I said, ‘Now, wouldn’t you like to know?’”

“Okay, it all makes sense to me now.”

“Why, do you have the answer to that question?” she asked.

“Well, I really never gave it much thought.”

“Then you have dated white women, I imagine I can safely assume,” she said probingly.

“A few, yes.”

“Okay, regarding my question I also assume that you’ve probably made love to them, as well, am I right?” she probed even deeper.

“A few, why?”

“Hold on, I’m not finished. Now, I know that you’re black so I can assume that you’ve dated Black women as well.”

“Of course, quite a few.”

“Oh, quite a few,” she said, as she removed a strand of hair dangling in front of her left eye. “So, it’s safe to say that you’ve made love to them as well?”

“Yes, matter of fact, almost all of them.”

“I see,” she murmured in an amusing tone as she pulled her skirt down. “So, based on your experience, you should be able to qualify whether or not Black women are better lovers than White women and vice versa, am I right?”

“Well, not necessarily.”

“How’s that?”

“Because I base such intimate encounters on a woman’s level of passion and sexuality and sensitivity and experience. Believe me; such things have little or no regard for one’s color.”

“I see your point.”

“Right now, I just want to know what the point is.”

“No point,” she said. “I was just juxtaposing your love life with the question that guy asked me.”

“Then let me ask you a few things of
you
, if I may,” I said, ready to make a point myself.

“And what’s that?”

“I know I caught a glimpse of him back in Orlando at the bus terminal, but for discussion purposes only, I think I can safely assume that Jack is white, am I right?’

“Yes, he is.”

“So, being a Black woman it’s safe to assume that you and Jack, who is White, have made love before, right?”

“Perhaps,” she murmured, slumping down on the seat.

“What do you mean perhaps?” I asked.

“I’m not telling you that,” she said sharply.

“What do you mean you’re not telling me that? Hell, I just told you about my most private of affairs,” I fumed playfully.

“Hey, that was your decision, not mine,” she said with a mischievous smile.

“Oh, I see now,” I said, catching her grinning on the slide. “You’re obviously one of those
all show but no tell types
, right?”

“Maybe,” she said in a flirtatiously way.

“Maybe?” I echoed. “Then will you even imply that you have made love to Jack?”

“I’m not implying anything,” she chuckled.

“Okay, then will you say if you’ve ever slept with any Black men before?”

“Nope, I’m not telling you that either,” she quipped with indifference and a girlish grin.

“Look, it’s obvious to me that you and Jack have knocked boots, yet you still refuse to tell me that you have made love to him, am I right.”

“That’s right,” she chuckled, seemingly enjoying our verbal sparring.

“Okay, be that way,” I said with a smile. “And to think that I was going to tell you all about my Latin and Asian lovers. No way now.”

Diana pretended to be unfazed by the teaser I just floated.

“Look!” I blurted, my voice breaking. “Did you see that? That sign says that KFC is just 10 miles ahead.”

“Sounds good to me,” she replied, sitting up. “Besides, I have to use the ladies room and soon.”

“Then its KFC,” I cheered.

There was a pause.

“Hey, Sheldon, dear,” she almost sang. “I have a unique question to ask you.”

“What now?” I replied, making a mental note that she referred to me as
dear
.

“Have you ever slept with a Native American?”

“Have you?” I retorted, stifling a laugh.

“I’m not telling.”

“Well, I’m not telling either,” I said, wearing a clever smile.

“Like I said before, you certainly amuse yourself, don’t you?” she said giving me a gentle shove.

“I’m not saying if I do or if I don’t.”

“Well, be that way.”

“Whatever,” I quipped with a bemusing smile, slowing down as we neared an active construction site area.

“Sooner or later, you’ll come running back to me with the answer.”

“Oh, you think so.”

“I know so.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Whatever.”

Chapter 5

T
here have been times I’ve eaten at KFC and I’d swear that I was eating someone else’s chicken, that is, someone who knew nothing about great tasting chicken. And then there was the special moments I’d sit down and eat at KFC and the experience was divine, just out of this world. Fortunately, this particular South Carolina KFC was operating on all six-cylinders. The mashed potatoes and rich brown gravy was right on, as well as the fresh tasting Cole slaw. And the green beans were cooked and seasoned just right. But the chicken, oh, the original KFC chicken I bought, tasted just the way the Colonel meant for it to taste. The flavor, along with his secret recipe, just burst in my mouth. And the warm flaky buttermilk biscuits, topped with butter…well, that just made my day.

Glancing over at Diana, I paused to watch her dig in. She seemed to be enjoying her meal as well. Perhaps she was just hungry. Either way, we were all smiles.

So far it had been an interesting ride. A long one but an interesting one. Diana was good company too; that is, when she wasn’t being introspective. More than anything, she wasn’t excessively chatty. Actually, she wasn’t chatty at all, just playful at times and inquiring. And that was a good thing.

“Sheldon, how long before we head into North Carolina?” she asked, sipping at her drink.

“Oh, I’d say in another two hours, why?”

“I was just wondering, that’s all.”

“Have you driven up to New York on I-95 before now?” I asked, picking up a drumstick.

“No, I’ve always flown when I traveled.”

“I see,” I said before biting into the best tasting drumstick my mouth had entertained in weeks.

“You have any siblings?” she asked.

“I have two brothers and two sisters,” I answered, biting off a piece of biscuit and dipping it in gravy. “And you?”

“I’m an only child.”

“Boy, that probably sucked.”

“Sometimes,” she replied thoughtfully. “I mean, there were times I wished I had a brother or sister to play with but then again, I just about got anything I wanted from my parents being an only child.”

“I see, so you were spoiled in other words.”

“I guess you can say that I was,” she said unabashedly.

“Now me, with four siblings around, I never went long without someone to play with or to get into trouble with,” I said. “And we were far from being spoiled.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Oh, like staying out past our curfew, especially my brother Robert and me, not doing our household chores, and skipping school,” I answered as I wiped a few crumbs and gravy from my mouth with a napkin.

“Sounds like you two were pretty close.”

“We still are.”

At that moment my cellphone rang. It was my cousin Michael down in Orlando. He wanted to know how I was making out and how far I had driven since I had left. I told him that I was in South Carolina and expected to be crossing the border over into North Carolina in a couple of hours. Before we ended the call, he gave me an update on the mail I had received in my absence and told me that Tiger Woods was twelve under for this week’s tournament and sat comfortably at the top of the leaderboard. The closest player was three shots behind. I then returned my attention back to Diana.

“So, that was your cousin Michael,” she said.

“Yep, that was Mike.”

“I noticed that you didn’t mention me.”

“I thought about it but decided that this wasn’t the time to get involved in a long conversation while we were eating,” I said cautiously.

“Was that the only reason?”

“The only one I could think of,” I said honestly. “Why?”

“I was just wondering.”

“You seem to do a lot of that, I’ve observed.”

“A lot of what?”

“Wondering.”

“Oh, now you’re observing me,” she mused.

“Well, I mean we have had quite some time to observe one another.”

“Just admit it, you just couldn’t keep your eyes off of me, just admit it big boy.”

“This isn’t about keeping my eyes off of you or on you; it’s about what I’ve observed during our interactions, plain and simple.”

“Plain and simple, huh,” she said smiling. “Well, I’ve observed a few things myself.”

“Like what?” I asked, tilting my head and giving her an inquisitive stare.

“You like to analyze people, for one,” she began.

“Look, what can I say? I am an analyst at heart.”

“I can tell,” she said with a pleasant smile.

“Anything else?” I was curious to know.

“Well, you seem to be a pretty decent driver. Thank goodness for that.”

“You’re welcomed, anything else?”

“Oh, and you like to sing,” she said, rubbing her forehead momentarily.

“Yes, I love to sing, anything else?”

“Well, I’ve also noticed that you can eat the hell out of some KFC chicken.”

“Hey, I’m not the only one,” I said, hunching my shoulders, my palms facing up. “Now, w
hat else?”

“Let’s see, I know you like drumsticks. You tore that one up really good. But you took your time savoring that chicken breast, I noticed.”

“Hey, what can I say? I loves me some breasts,” I said defensively, with a smirk.

“Yeah, I can tell,” she replied in agreement, then added, “Okay, you got me on that one.”

We both broke out in laughter.

Wrapping things up, we ditched our trash, refilled our drink cups, grabbed a few napkins for the road, and returned to the Navigator. This time Diana decided to seat herself just behind the front seats to watch television on one of two pull down television monitors. Logging onto Netflix, she began her movie search. She opted on watching a romantic comedy. Within minutes we were traveling north on I-95. So far the ride had been uneventful. And I was hopeful that Jack would stay out of the picture and out of our conversation, at least until we got to Philadelphia. I could only keep my fingers crossed.

T
hirty miles into our drive, I tilted my head to the left and glanced at my outside rear view mirror and noticed a black Pontiac Firebird coming up from behind at a high rate of speed. It seemed to be the same driver I had witnessed driving erratically thirty miles earlier before he pulled off at a rest stop. At the time he was dodging in and out of lanes like a madman. Once again, the driver appeared to be switching lanes and passing other cars with little regard on how close his car came to the vehicles he was passing and without concern for how much clearance between the cars his car actually had. Several cars honked at him angrily in protest. Reckless driving the law would call it. It wasn’t long before the Firebird charged by me on my left. He must have been doing around 95mph or more. I looked to see if he was being pursued by law enforcement, just like one of those car chases you see the local news channel break into. There were no cop cars around or any police helicopters. This guy had free reign of the roadway.

“What a fool,” Diana declared from behind me. “That asshole is going to get somebody killed.”

“I know,” I said inhaling deeply. “Where’s a state trooper when you need one?”

“Probably at a damn donut shop,” she chuckled.

“Now, that’s a real possibility –” I began but never completed my sentence.

Three car lengths ahead of us cars began to diverge in different directions. The sound of cars colliding and metal and fiberglass impacting, along with the sound of glass shattering into a thousand little pieces, gripped me. Diana grabbed my arm and let out a horrific scream that sent chills throughout my body. Then like a scene out of a Hollywood movie, a huge cloud of dirt suddenly appeared on the shoulder of the road where someone’s errant car began to flip over and over again on its side. Vehicles directly ahead of me slowed down. Eighteen wheelers slammed on their brakes. The screeching sound of hot brakes all around us was chilling and unnerving.