Cheesecake and Teardrops (4 page)

“Here it comes, the world according to Chase.”

“You like to act all nonchalant like you're not interested in Nate, but I know that half the women in this office have the hots for him—including you. At least I'm honest about my feelings.”

“Do you know what your problem is?” Charisma didn't wait for an answer. “You waltzed in here like you're some freakin' princess, but you're nothing but upper-middle
ass
.”

“Sounds like a personal problem to me, Charisma. Don't hate me because I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth and yours was what, plastic? And don't hate me cause I'm beautiful. Watch me make Nate mine just like I stole those two jobs you wanted from under your nose. Just make sure you take plenty of notes, though, because I work fast and I'm only going to show you once.” She tossed her hair one last time, having perfected the official white girl's imaginary power move as she left. Charisma secretly hoped she'd snap her neck.

Heather drove out to Ashley Stewart in the Green Acres Mall. She was eager to try on some new clothes, having shed a whopping ten pounds. She walked through the mall checking out the other sisters—their hair, their makeup, their jewelry, their fashion sense. Some things came with a price tag, but when it came to style, Heather knew that hey, either you got it or you don't. And underneath her body by Häagen-Dazs was a svelte, young thing just itching to get out.

She walked into Ashley Stewart, fall and winter fashions all around her. A couple of sweaters caught her eye, along with a skirt and some pants. She was ready for the fitting room. Everything fit but the size eighteen black pants, which were a little snug in the thighs. She knew that within a month or so they'd probably fit perfectly, but for now she debated getting them. Her old black wool slacks were so tight that they practically squeaked when she walked. She felt like she could be in a
Seinfeld
episode. She looked at herself in the mirror one more time before getting dressed, trying to ignore her nose. It didn't work.

She was a few feet from the cashier, debating whether or not she should get the pants in a bigger size when someone called her name.

“Heather Grey. I thought that was you,” an unfamiliar female voice said.

Heather followed the voice. “Ava Johnson. I haven't seen you,
oh my gosh,
since high school,” she said. “And you chopped off your mane.”

“I had to, girl. My life was too complicated.” Ava was a petite, shapely, medium brown beauty with a short, black boycut.

Her bangs fell just above her brows, emphasizing her wide-set eyes.

“You're still here in New York?” Ava asked her.

“Uh-huh.”

“So how've you been?”

“Just fine,” Heather said. “How about you?”

“Oh, I can't complain, but I'm starving. Wanna grab a bite to eat in the food court?”

“Sure. Let me pay for these first, and I'll meet you upstairs,” Heather said. She stood in line for over ten minutes before leaving the store with her purchases, minus the pants. She took the escalator up to the second floor and spotted Ava in the center of the food court.

“Over here,”Ava said, waving to Heather. Ava's face hadn't changed much since Bayside High School. She still had that cute little nose and those adorable dimples.

Heather sat down opposite Ava and put her bags in the empty chair, anxious to take a load off her slightly swollen ankles. “Why don't I watch your bags while you get your food,” Heather suggested.

“You sit. I'll get yours too. What's your pleasure?”

“Are you sure?”

Ava nodded. “It's no biggie. Why not?”

“Okay, I'll have a grilled chicken sandwich from Burger Hut and a diet 7UP.”

“You want fries to go with that?” Ava asked her.

“No fries. I'm trying to get to where
you
are,” Heather told her. “What were you doing in Ashley Stewart, anyway?”

Heather reached into her wallet and pulled out a ten-dollar bill for Ava.

“I go in just to remind myself of how far I've come.”

“How much did you lose?” Heather asked her.

“Seventy-two pounds.”

“Amazing.” Heather shook her head.

“Don't worry. Your day'll come,” Ava said before going to get their orders.

Ava returned a few minutes later with Heather's order and a Wendy's double cheeseburger for herself. She barely had time to give Heather her change before sinking her teeth into her burger.

“I haven't eaten all day,” Ava said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Once a week I treat myself. So what have you been up to since high school?”

Heather removed the grilled chicken from the buns. She searched in her purse for her diet pills, popped two in her mouth, and washed them down with diet soda. “Vitamins,” she explained to Ava before continuing. “Well, I did four years at Howard, got a liberal arts degree, and came back to New York to get my master's. And you'll never guess where I'm working.”

“Where?” Ava asked.

“The Queens Library as a librarian.”

“Right off the avenue?”

Heather nodded.

“Get outta here. How many afternoons did we spend there working on term papers?”

“Tell me about it. Now I'm helping others do it.”

“That's amazing. So is there anyone special in your life?”

“No, not at the moment. What about you?” Heather asked.

“Not unless you count my vibrator,” Ava admitted, and they both burst out laughing.

“Girl, you are still crazy. You haven't changed a bit.”

“You have,” Ava said.

“How?” Heather asked, taking another bite of her chicken.

“You were so uptight in high school that tampons looked up to you.” She laughed.

“Stop it,” Heather said, laughing.

“You were. What's your guiltiest pleasure now?”

“Red Lobster biscuits. One day I got so depressed I went to Red Lobster, ordered a dozen to go, sucked them down, and got sick as a dog.”

“Girl, my cheddar biscuits are so good, I expect Red Lobster to show up on my doorstep and serve me with papers any day now.”

“I better watch my back with you,” Heather joked, taking one last gulp of her soda.

“Let's keep in touch.” Ava whipped out her cell phone and Heather did the same as they exchanged numbers.

A week later Heather was busy at work when she had an unexpected visitor—Ava had stopped by to have lunch.

“I hope you don't mind,” Ava said. “I thought you might wanna have lunch.”

“Perfect timing,” Heather said. “Let me grab my coat.”

She disappeared behind one of the doors designated for employees only and returned with her black leather swing coat.

They decided on Margarita Pizza, one of the best pizzerias in all of Queens. As crowded as it was, Heather managed to get two seats in the rear while Ava waited for their piping-hot slices to come out of the oven. Heather took a swig of the bottled water she kept in her purse, hoping to quiet her growling stomach.

Heather only ate one meal a day and some days it was pure torture, but in the end it would be well worth it. She wanted that size eight body so badly that she could taste it as much as the cinnamon Altoid she had just eaten. In fact, that's what she was visualizing when Ava came with their pizzas.

“Whoever or whatever it is must be good,” Ava joked.

“Trust me. It is,” Heather admitted and left it at that. “So you never told me what you've been up to since high school.”

“I graduated from York College with a degree in accounting, and I've been working at Zales ever since. I used to work in Queens Center, but now I'm right across the street. You should come down and pick out something. I have a great discount.”

“Thanks, maybe I'll take you up on that,” Heather said as she took another bite of her pizza. “Do you ever run into anyone from Bayside? Remember Walt? Oh, what was his last name?”

“You mean Walt Sample from the varsity basketball team? Oh, he just made partner at some big-time law firm in Chicago.”

“I had a huge crush on him,” Heather admitted.

“Please, half the female student body was feeling him.”

Ava wiped her mouth with a napkin. “And the other half was sleeping with him.”

“Which half were you in?” Heather asked.

“I'll never tell.” She grinned. “But we wore out the cushions on the backseat of his hooptie,” Ava whispered.

“You are so bad.” Heather checked her watch. “I better get going.” They both stood, ditched their paper plates in the garbage and headed for the door.

“Looks like it's starting to rain. I should've brought my umbrella,” Heather said.

Ava fished in her bag for hers. “I have mine. I'll walk you back.”

“It's so out of the way. Are you sure?” Heather asked.

“It's no problem,” Ava insisted.

They walked out of Margarita's as it was just beginning to pour. Ava opened her umbrella, and they huddled together in the rain. Her wrist accidentally dropped and her fingers brushed against Heather's breast. She quickly apologized, and Heather accepted her apology. Funny thing, though, Heather wasn't quite sure it was an accident.

 

Heather's car died two blocks from her house that evening.

She walked home in the pouring rain without an umbrella.

Her naturally curly hair was totally soaked. Once inside, she took a hot shower and got into some dry clothes.

Heather called Charisma to see if she could pick her up that night since they were all meeting for dinner at Heather's favorite spot, Cabana. It was a little Spanish restaurant in Forest Hills. Parking was always at a premium there, so usually they'd all ride in one car. If no parking spots were available, they'd park in the lot and split the cost three ways. That night they were lucky. A car was pulling out just as Charisma turned onto Austin Street.

Tangie hopped out the car, dashed into the restaurant, and quickly gave her name to the hostess. The place was packed, but that was the norm, especially for a Friday night.

They waited at the bar for about forty minutes before their table was ready.

Once seated, they ordered a pitcher of sangria. The waiter returned with the sangria and the menus. After their usual toast, they sat back and enjoyed the ambiance. They loved the fun, lively atmosphere. There was an element of electricity in the air that could not be denied. Even though it was a Spanish restaurant, all kinds of patrons—Latinos, blacks, whites, Filipinos, Asians—frequented the hot spot.

The waiter returned shortly and gave them a description of the specials that night—in Spanish, of course. Except for a few words here and there, they had no idea what he was saying. He appeared very patient, and then described the dishes in English as well. They skimmed over the bilingual menu and made their choices. Finally, he returned with their appetizers of little beef turnovers and thinly sliced plantains.

“I can't believe my car conked out on me again on my way home from work,” Heather began. “I ended up walking home in the rain.” She rolled her eyes, shaking her head in disgust.

“Why don't you just buy another one? It doesn't have to be brand new,” Charisma reminded her.

“I wish I could,” Heather told her. “But plastic surgery doesn't come cheap, and I can almost taste that nose job.”

Charisma rushed home Wednesday night to get ready for Dex. He had just gotten back in town and was coming by straight from the airport. She took a long, hot bath in Cinderella's Wishes Sug-arbutter bath crystals before moisturizing with the body butter. She smelled like a dream as she slipped into a sheer black teddy and waited for the fireworks to begin.

Dex called a little after six to say he was in a cab, stuck in traffic at JFK. By seven they were in each other's arms. “I missed you,” he told her as she greeted him at the door.

“How was your flight?” she asked.

“Smooth, but long.”

“Hungry?” she asked him.

“I think
he's
hungrier than
I
am.” He took off his coat and dropped his luggage by the door and took her in his arms.

For a few moments, there was nothing but silence as their mouths got reacquainted.

“You always smell so good.” He held her tight, burying his face in her neck. “I've been thinking about you all week.”

“I know the feeling.” She held him close, massaging the back of his neck with her right hand. Then she grabbed him by the hand and led him into the bedroom. “Come on.”

They quickly made their way onto her queen-sized bed, where he practically tore off his shirt while she unbuckled his belt. Standing, Dex then unzipped his pants, removing them along with his boxers, shoes, and socks. He stripped Charisma of her teddy in two easy motions. Moaning, she leaned back into the pillows as he milked her tits—first with his hands, then his mouth. She got hotter and wetter watching him slide his tongue down her body until he reached her throbbing honey nugget. Her breath got caught in her throat as he teased her favorite hot spot with his tongue, stroking it and massaging it stiff until she could stand it no more. Her entire being exploded. He made his way back up to her lips.

Finally, they lay on her bed with only a Trojan between them. Dex sat up, beckoning Charisma to join him. She stood over him and gently eased herself down, facing him.

Grinning, Charisma spread her legs, marveling at why she had nicknamed him Mr. Goodbar as she wrapped her legs around his middle. He rocked her world—first nice and slow and then hard and fast. She bit his shoulder, trying to stay in control. Finally, they both came, momentarily paralyzed with passion, before collapsing onto the bed. Covered in sweat, they both laughed as he leaned over and lightly kissed her on the mouth. Anything else would have taken too much energy. He took her in his arms and told her how glad he was to see her.

They drifted off to sleep and somewhere past ten Charisma's phone rang, awakening them both. It was a wrong number. Dex got up and dressed, then called a cab.

“I hate having to leave you,” he said. “I have an early meeting tomorrow. I know we've discussed it before, but I want you to move in with me.”

“You know I can't do that.”

“Why not?” He kissed her gently.

“Because,” she said. “You don't have enough closet space for my shoes.” She laughed.

“You're right about that, but I'll add a wing just for your shoes. Stay in bed. I'll let myself out.”

“No, that's okay.” Charisma reached for a robe and walked him to the door. He kissed her one more time before grabbing his coat and luggage, and heading out the door. They promised to get together again real soon.

Charisma took a shower before retiring for the night. She too wanted to be fresh and rested for the workday tomorrow.

 

First thing Thursday morning Nate stopped by Charisma's office. She was busy reading her e-mail for the day's assignments.

Sensing his presence, she looked up. “Good morning, Nate.”

“Good morning, Charisma. Are we still on for Saturday night? You know the Lakers are in town.”

“That's right. How could I forget?”

“I hope you cleared your calendar for me.”

“Consider it done,” Charisma said simply.

“The game starts at seven-thirty. So, I'll pick you up around . . . six?”

“Sex will be fine—I mean six will be fine.” She reddened.

“Here, let me give you my address.” Charisma jotted down her address and easy directions. He slipped it inside the upper-left inside pocket of his suit as he left her office.

“Good morning, Nate. Love your aftershave,” Chase said as she walked by.

“Thanks.” Suddenly his phone rang, and he sprinted back to his office, leaving Charisma and Chase behind in a staring match.

“For someone who's not interested, it sure didn't take you long to slip him your number,” Chase told Charisma, expecting a response. When none came, she tossed her hair and walked away.

 

After work, Charisma stopped at the mall for a little retail therapy. The moment she walked onto Macy's second floor, she went into shoe shock. She walked out with a pair of burgundy suede peep toe pumps and some black satin dressy sandals. So much for zeroing out her Macy's charge.

When she got home there was a package waiting for her. Home shopping was one of Charisma's guilty pleasures. She tore open the package, revealing a pair of tiny, heartshaped diamond stud earrings. She headed for the bathroom to sterilize the earrings with alcohol before putting them in her earlobes. They were exquisite. She loved earrings, bracelets, rings, ankle bracelets, toe rings, and an occasional necklace. The list went on and on. Jewelry, clothes, shoes. Every week there was at least one new addition to her home. She was a true shopaholic. That's why her monthly American Express bill was sky-high.

The girls met Friday night at Red Lobster. After they ordered dinner and their drinks arrived, they raised their glasses in the usual toast.

“So what's happening on the
job?
” Tangie asked Charisma.

“Who's happening is more like it,” Heather added.

“You got that right.” Tangie laughed.

“Well,” Charisma began. “Tomorrow night's the game.”

“What game?” Tangie and Heather asked in unison.

“Remember I told you he's taking me to the Garden?” Charisma sipped her Miami Vice.

“No,” Heather and Tangie said.

“Well, anyway, he bet me dinner that the Lakers would slaughter the Knicks. Only he doesn't know the Knick's are gonna put a hurtin' on 'em.” She laughed.

“How long has he been working with you?” Tangie asked.

Charisma thought for a moment. “Since early October, why?”

“You two are finally dating. It's about time,” Tangie said, reaching for her glass.

“We are
not
dating,” Charisma insisted. “We're just going to a game.”

“And dinner,” Heather added.

“And dinner,” Charisma admitted, smoothing down the hair on the back of her neck. “But that's it. Then he'll go home to his house, and I'll go home to mine.”

“Not if you both play your cards right.” Heather grinned.

The waitress returned with hot cheddar biscuits. Tangie said grace, and they dove right in. Even the eternal dieter, Heather couldn't wait to sink her teeth into them.

“Mmm,” she moaned. “I forgot just how good these are.”

The look on Heather's face was one of pure joy.

“I know, girl,” Tangie said. “Just enjoy it.”

“Did I tell you guys I got hit on by this woman I went to high school with?” Heather asked.

“Uh-uh,” Charisma said.

“Yeah, she was really smooth with her stuff. I ran into her shopping one day, and a couple of days later she met me for lunch. It started to rain so she whipped out her umbrella. Anyway, we were huddled together walking down Jamaica Ave. She was holding the umbrella with one hand, and she had her arm around me trying to keep me dry. Then her hand kind of drops and grazes my breast.”

“How do you know it wasn't an accident?” Charisma asked.

“'Cause it lasted just a
little
too long, and she couldn't look me in the eye afterward. And would you believe she actually blushed?”

“Well, you know what they say. Once you have a woman, you never go back,” Tangie said.

“That's what they say,” Heather agreed.

 

Charisma was up bright and early Saturday morning. She threw on a royal blue sweat suit and headed for Daisy's for her weekly shampoo. Normally, she went on Sundays after church, but since she was going out that night with Nate she wanted to look her best. It was a few minutes till nine.

She parked right across the street from the salon and fed the parking meter. The salon was not yet packed.

“
Hola,
Charisma,” Daisy greeted her as she walked through the door. Daisy was a friendly Latina with beautiful brown eyes and an infectious laugh.

“
Hola,
Daisy,” she said in return.

“
Que quieres?
” Daisy asked her

“Just a wash and curl,” Charisma told her, hanging up her jacket on the coatrack and heading toward the rear.

“Maria,
Charisma quiere shampoo,
” Daisy said.

Maria, a young Puerto Rican brunette, wiped out a chair and motioned for Charisma to have a seat. She shampooed her hair three times before applying a deep conditioner and placing her under the dryer for a few minutes. Charisma used that time to flip through a magazine and refed the meter. Before she knew it, it was time to be rinsed out.

Daisy always blow-dried and styled Charisma's hair no matter who shampooed and conditioned her, shaping up a male customer before turning her full attention to Charisma.

Customers poured in. The Saturday rush had begun. Daisy trimmed and put the finishing touches on Charisma's do.

Finally, Daisy swung her around in the chair and positioned a mirror behind her so that she could see her hair from various angles. Charisma was satisfied. She paid Daisy and tipped Maria. She walked out of Daisy's ready for a Dark and Lovely ad.

She stopped by When We Were Queens on her way home to have Cinderella do her eyebrows. She lucked up at Cinderella's too. Nobody was there yet. She was Cinderella's first customer. Cinderella gave her sister-friend a kiss on both cheeks, and Charisma sat down in the chair.

“Look at you. You must have a hot date tonight.” Cinderella smiled. “Call the cops,” she said, adding her trademark line. Cinderella cleaned her brows before applying hot wax.

“No, I'm just going out with my new boss,” Charisma told her. “He's new in town so I'm kinda showing him around.”

“So where are you going?”

“Actually, he's taking me to see the Knicks tonight.”

“Oh yeah? What's he like?”

“He seems like a nice guy.”

“Okay.”

“Too bad he's my boss. I don't think I could ever get involved with someone I work with.”

“Why not?” Cinderella asked her.

“Why not? Because when it's good, it's very good. But when it's bad, it's terrible.”

“Well, you know, sometimes we expect God to come one way, and he comes from a totally different direction.” Cinderella smiled, revealing her beautiful white teeth. “Time will tell, my queen,” she sang, removing the strips from Charisma's brows. Then she picked up her tweezers and the plucking began. She shaped them like the professional she was, proving once again why she was the best in town.

She gave Charisma the mirror to review her handiwork.

Her eyebrows were arched just the way she liked them.

“Mommy was in yesterday on her way to Pathmark to do some Thanksgiving shopping. She's so beautiful. She asked me to introduce you to someone real nice,” Cinderella told her.

“My mother's something else.”

“Charisma, she just wants you to settle down and have a family. She just wants to see her little grandbabies.”

“I know, Cinderella, but I'm not ready to get married. Not yet.”

“How's Dex?” she asked.

“He's okay.”

“You know something? You deserve all of God's blessings. You are so precious, and I don't want to see you waste yourself on anybody. God has someone special just for you. You'll see.”

 

Charisma was just a touch nervous as she got dressed for an evening with her boss. She couldn't decide what to wear. It wasn't really a date, she reasoned, but she wanted to look good nonetheless. She tried on at least three outfits before settling on black leather jeans and a black suede shirt.

She applied foundation and bronze eye shadow on her lids and then ended up dropping eye shadow all over her bathroom floor.

“Dag,” she said, bending down to wipe up the mess. Why was she so uptight? It was only a night out at the Garden.

She looked in the mirror and took a few cleansing breaths to calm herself. She finished applying makeup just before the doorbell ran.

Nate was right on time, casually dressed in black as well.

“Come on in,” she said with a smile. “Make yourself comfortable. I'll be ready in a minute. Can I get you anything?” she asked from the bathroom.

“No, I'm fine. Nice place,” Nate said, looking around.

The chrome-and-glass furniture was dust-free and devoid of fingerprints while her bookshelf boasted the latest best-sellers. Nate sat down and waited patiently. Charisma took another five minutes before she was good to go. She couldn't help but notice that his eyes lit up when she entered the room, and for some reason that secretly pleased her.

They decided to take his car into Manhattan. It was high time he learned the city. They took the Belt Parkway to the Van Wyck, eventually ending up in the Midtown Tunnel. It was a lovely, crisp night, and they enjoyed the ride.

Before long they were a few blocks from Madison Square Garden, pulling up into a garage. They got out of the car, and the parking attendant did the rest.

“You could probably be a New York cabbie on the side,” she told him.