Urban Love Is, page 6
“Good morning, Sophia,” Randy said, smiling my way.
Randy, he was a cute guy. But he was trifling. When I first started working here, he used to try to come on to me every day, knowing that I was a married woman with a child, and he had a girlfriend. But after two years of trying to hit it, he finally got the point, and he just became cool with me.
“Good morning, Randy,” I said casually and walked on by.
All employees had to arrive an hour early before the bank opened at nine. We had to situate things, count money, open the vault, do a security check, run systems, blah, blah, and blah. I got a cup of hot coffee from across the street along with my usual bagel with cream cheese. I tried not to think about my husband or get upset that he was an asshole last night. I stayed focused on work.
There’d been talk that we were supposed to be getting a new bank manager. Our current manager, Mr. Robins, was retiring soon. He’d been in banking for forty years now. He was an old Jewish guy, a nice guy with a great sense of humor. He was always smiling and took his job quite seriously. Sometimes he wouldn’t leave until ten or eleven at night, going over books, counting cash, or processing equipment.
Like usual, I found myself gossiping with my coworkers while we were working. Everyone was curious about who was taking over Mr. Robin’s position. I hoped that he wouldn’t be a stick in the mud. Working under Mr. Robins made the job relaxed. He made it pleasant to work here, and I couldn’t think of anyone taking his place. Sometimes he would buy employees lunch. He got to know everyone personally. All he asked for was respect, that you came to work on time, and that you performed your job with efficiency. Honestly, he was like a father to some of us.
The day was going by fast with customers coming and going. I completed one transaction after the other. I smiled, greeted them casually, and made them feel welcome at the bank. I was at my window, finishing up this one transaction. A man just deposited $2,500 into his account, and I was logging it into the computer.
“Next,” I hollered.
Subsequently, a well-dressed and tall man in a gray suit wearing a Rolex walked toward my window. He was very handsome, black, with a thick goatee. It was apparent he had money. My coworker glanced his way and smiled.
“Hello, welcome to Chase Bank. How can I help you this afternoon?” I said.
“I need to make a withdrawal,” he said with his baritone voice.
Damn!
He took out his bankbook from the inner pocket of his suit and placed it in front of me. Then he passed me the withdrawal slip, and I saw that he was taking out $7,500 from his account. I opened his bankbook and wanted to gasp when I saw how much he was holding down—$250,000.
Oh, my Lord, I said to myself. I couldn’t help but stare at his figures and then up at him. A fine man like him, dressed nice, and holding it down financially. Calm yourself, Sophia, I had to remind my hormones.
He passed me some identification, and I saw that his name was Rowell James. I began processing his transaction. He stood there. When I glanced up at him for the sixth time, he smiled at me. I smiled back. He had great teeth, luscious lips, and a nice build.
Everything cleared. He was good to go.
“How would you like that?” I asked.
“Nothing but hundreds,” he politely said.
I pulled out a wad of hundred-dollar bills from my drawer. I completed the transaction and counted the money in front of him—$7,500 in cash. For once, I wished that I were banking the cash that I was counting out to him. Being a bank teller, you make decent pay, but damn, Mr. Right who was standing in front of me, whoa, he definitely had it going on, and he was rich.
I counted his cash twice, making sure that it was accurate, and then passed him his money inside a bank envelope. I smiled. I daydreamed about leaving out that door with him. Where he was going, I wanted to go too.
“Thank you,” he said, snapping me out of my quick daydream.
“You’re welcome,” I said.
I watched him walk out the door. I wished that one day we could have dinner and some wine. His treat of course. I laughed it off. I felt one of my coworkers nudge me in my side with her saying, “So are your panties dry yet?”
“Shut up, Lauren,” I laughed.
She laughed too. I uttered, “Next.” I was still on my job.
* * *
“So are your panties dry now?” Lauren asked me again. We were having lunch across the street at this café on a warm, sunny, and lovely spring day. Lauren was a coworker and a really cool and loving friend. She’d been at the bank five years now and was receiving her degree in business management. Soon I might be working for her.
I laughed, telling her that she was silly.
“I ain’t gonna front, homeboy was fine,” she said. “Umm, umm . . . that’s something I wouldn’t mind taking home from work and playing with all night.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” I said, giving her a high five.
I had a small cappuccino cup and a little turkey and cheese sandwich sitting in front of me. And Lauren had herself a light salad and a fruit punch Snapple.
“So what’s up with you and Terrance? How are things going between y’all two?” she asked.
I sighed.
“It’s that bad, huh?”
“No. It’s just . . . I don’t know, Lauren. I love him and all, but right now I feel that I need a break from everything—him, the marriage, and sometimes my daughter.”
“Did you tell him this?”
“No. He’s good to me. But something just isn’t there between us anymore. I don’t know what it is.”
“It’s because your ass got married so young, and now you want to be free. What are you, twenty-five?”
“Yes,” I said. “I got married a week before my nineteenth birthday.”
“See, and you married him when you were only eighteen, and he’s the only man you have been with for the past seven years,” she chuckled. “I understand you, girl.”
“I mean, the sex is good. Don’t get me wrong, he is doing his thing. But that chemistry between us, it’s like it faded away. He doesn’t even romance me anymore. The only romancing he does today is grabbing on my tits and kissing in between my thighs and then sticking it into me. I remember back in the day we used to foreplay for hours, and he used to say the nastiest and sweetest things to me. But now it’s just getting his nut off, and that’s it.”
“You’ll be okay, girl,” Lauren said.
“I hope so, ’cause on the real, I’m thinking about other things,” I said. I took a sip from my cappuccino.
“Other things like what?”
“I never cheated on my husband. But now I’m starting to get that urge, that desire, to just find me some sexy-ass man and have him fuck the shit outta me.”
“Are you serious? You’re thinking about cheating on your husband?”
“Lauren, you don’t even know. I’m starting to find myself being attracted to a lot of men. Like that fine-ass man who came into the bank this morning. I had to compose myself, girl.”
“How long have you been feeling this way?” she asked.
“Awhile now,” I admitted.
“So why don’t you just admit it to your husband, tell him the truth?”
“It’s hard. Terrance likes being a family. He’s a good father. I guess I’m just scared. I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”
“You gonna hurt his feelings a lot more if you keep this going. Tell him the truth now. It’s better to tell him now than to have him catch you cheating out there. How you think he’s going to feel then?”
“I know. I know.”
“Sophia is looking for some new dick in her life. I guess the old one is about to expire soon,” she joked.
“Shut up,” I laughed.
But she was right. I needed to tell my husband how I was feeling. I couldn’t just keep having him believe that everything between us was okay. I couldn’t keep living this lie within myself. I loved him, but I felt that I just wasn’t in love with him.
* * *
I got home around six that evening. Terrance was already home. He was lying in the bedroom in his boxers and a T-shirt and watching television.
“Where’s Zaire?” I asked.
“Oh, she’s still at my mother’s,” he said. He looked up at me casually when I stepped into the bedroom.
“But I thought I told you to pick her up. Why she always gotta be at your mother’s? I would like to spend time with my daughter too,” I told him, getting upset.
“Relax, Sophia. She a’ight. My moms don’t mind watching her.”
“But she’s not your mother’s child. That’s our child, Terrance. I hate when you do this shit.”
“Damn, Sophia, why you trippin’? I can get the child tonight. It ain’t like she’s over there all week.”
“That’s not the point, Terrance.”
“Then what is?”
I sighed and stormed into the bathroom. I slammed the door behind me. I just got home, and I was already having an argument with him. I really wanted to see my daughter tonight. But Terrance was continuously taking her over to his mother’s house knowing that I didn’t have a car. I had my license, but he had the car.
His mother was cool. And I know she didn’t mind watching her, but lately, this mofo be thinking he was slick. I knew what the fuck he was up to. He kept Zaire over at his mother’s house purposely, thinking that he was gonna get him some quick ass tonight—fuck me first, then go get our daughter. He was always putting pussy first, and our daughter second. I wasn’t in the mood for sex tonight. So he was shit out of luck.
I walked back into the bedroom, and he was still looking at the television. We were both quiet. I started to get undressed. He grinned, watching me slyly. Now he wanted to show me some minor attention. I went into my drawer and pulled out my sweatpants and an old T-shirt. I then went into the bathroom to change clothes. I knew what he wanted. Not tonight!
Subsequently, I went into the kitchen to make myself a snack. Terrance didn’t cook. The most he did was breakfast and barbeque. I was the cook in this family. Would he survive without me, I didn’t know. Not likely. His diet most likely would be fast food.
I was in the kitchen making a sandwich. Terrance didn’t even ask me how my day was. Did he care? I didn’t know. He was still in the bedroom watching TV, and I had a lot to think about. I wanted romance and great sex.
The phone rang, but Terrance wasn’t answering it.
“Terrance, can you please get the damn phone? I’m busy in the kitchen.”
The phone stopped ringing, and then I heard him shout out, “Sophia, it’s Yasmin.”
I cleaned off my hands and picked up the kitchen phone. “Hey, Yasmin,” I said.
“What’s up, girl?”
I sighed wholeheartedly and then said to her, “Nothing much.”
“You just got home?” she asked.
“Yeah, like twenty minutes ago,” I said.
“How’s my little goddaughter doing?”
“She’s at her grandmother’s.”
“Terrance didn’t go pick her up?”
“No. And I told him to. But he’s acting like a jerk.”
“You want me to go and get her for you?”
“Can you? I’d appreciate that so much. You know Terrance is gonna want to get Zaire from his mother’s house around nine, ten tonight. And I ain’t trying to have my daughter come home that late.”
“I got you, girl.”
“So what’s up for the weekend?” I asked, biting into my sandwich.
“You know me. I stay clubbing. There’s this party Saturday night if you wanna come,” she said.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Come, Sophia. Have Terrance babysit, and get your groove on.”
I chuckled. “That sounds like a plan.”
“That’s because it is.”
“I’ll let you know when you come by with Zaire.”
“A’ight then, girl.”
I hung up the phone. I looked around the kitchen and griped even more. The sink was a mess, filled with dishes. My husband had been home all day, and he couldn’t wash the dishes. It was another negative. So being the woman of the house, I started to wash the dishes.
Terrance finally came out of the bedroom and placed his arms around my waist, pressing his body against mine and kissing the side of my neck. Now he wanted to show me attention.
“What the hell are you doing, Terrance?” I said to him, annoyed.
“What do you think I’m doing? I’m trying to love my wife.”
His words agitated me even more. I felt his hand reaching into my sweatpants and going for my goodies. I pushed him off me. He wanted to grab places that I didn’t want him to hold.
“What’s up, Sophia?” he said. Now he was the one looking annoyed.
“Nothing,” I responded dryly.
He attempted to fondle me again, and once again, I pushed him away from me and caught an attitude.
“Can’t you see that I’m trying to wash dishes here? Something that your ass should have done since you’ve been home,” I barked.
“You’re catching an attitude over some dishes? I always clean,” he had the nerve to say.
“Whatever!”
“C’mon, Sophia, let me get mine real quick. It ain’t gonna take that long,” he said.
“Terrance, I’m not in the damn mood,” I exclaimed.
“C’mon,” he said, grabbing my butt.
“Terrance, what did I say? I got dishes to wash. Take your ass back into the bedroom and watch TV.”
He griped and whined, but I didn’t care. “Why you gotta be so stingy with it? Y’all be acting like y’all shit is gold.”
“Fuck you, Terrance!” I shouted. Now I was irritated.
He marched toward the bedroom, upset. I didn’t care how he felt. What about my feelings and my needs? He had some nerve expecting some pussy when he was becoming lazy and insensitive to his wife.
I needed some time to myself, so I went for a walk to the nearest bodega to buy a pack of Newports. It was a balmy night with a full moon above. I exited the bodega, placing a needed cigarette into my mouth. I lit up, inhaled, and enjoyed the nicotine coursing through my system. The neighborhood was quiet, and my marriage was quieter—or dull. What I wanted was a nice massage, some romance, and to make passionate love. I didn’t want to feel like some truck-stop whore. My life, or my love life, needed some spicing up. It needed a spark.
I proceeded to walk home, and then out of nowhere, a black convertible CL600 came to a stop nearby, and he stepped out. He was six foot three with an athletic build, wearing cargo shorts and a wife-beater that highlighted his body. He was chocolate covered with a gleaming bald head and a thick goatee. He was gorgeous from head to toe. I stood there, fixated by his appearance. Where did he come from? Who was he?
He looked my way and suddenly came forward. I was rooted to the sidewalk, not able to move. He spoke to me. “You okay, beautiful?” he asked.
I was speechless at first, but then I got myself together and replied, “I’m fine.”
“You sure are,” he flirted.
I smiled.
He extended his hand to me and introduced himself, saying, “My name is Eric, and what’s yours?”
“I’m Sophia,” I said, shaking his hand and touching him.
“Sophia—beautiful name for a gorgeous woman,” he said. “So, Sophia, what brings you out on a nice night like tonight?”
“Just walking,” I said.
“Do you need a ride somewhere?”
“No, I’m fine. I live up the street.”
“I wouldn’t mind walking you home, then,” he said.
“And leave your car behind?”
“It’s a nice neighborhood, right?”
I smiled. “It is.”
“So let’s walk then,” he said. “And besides, people know me around here.”
“You are . . . known for what?” I asked with a raised eyebrow his way. I was curious to know why he was known and what he was known for.
He smiled and replied, “I play ball.”
“Oh, are you in the NBA?” I didn’t watch basketball.
“Nah, not yet. I play overseas, in China.”
“China. Impressive,” I admitted. “So why aren’t you in the NBA?”
“I didn’t quite cut it yet. But I’m nice. You have to come to see me play one day.”
“I might.”
We walked a block, but I didn’t want him walking me home. The last thing I needed was for Terrance to see me with another man. I didn’t need the drama. But as we walked down that block, he told me quite enough about himself. He was 25. He played college ball at St. John’s University. He played point guard, and he was single, supposedly. And he spoke some Chinese. I was definitely intrigued.
“Why are you in Queens?” I asked him.
“I don’t live too far from here. Well, my mom doesn’t. I grew up here.”
“That’s nice. Mama’s boy?” I joked.
“You can say that.”
“And how long are you in town for?” I wanted to know.
“A few weeks. I’m on break.”
We walked some more, and suddenly I found myself a block away from my house. I didn’t want him to know where I lived.
“You’re easy to talk to,” he said. “I would definitely like to see you again.”
I hesitated. I was a married woman, and he was too close to home. But I found myself saying, “I’ll take your number.”
He smiled. He wrote down his number and placed it into my hand. “Please use it. I would love to hear from you again. I want to take you out.”
“I’ll see,” I flirted.
We talked for a minute, and it was getting late. Eric had beautiful eyes and a beautiful smile. I wanted to give him a hug and kiss, but he was still a stranger—though it was tempting. I started to walk away with his number in my hand. I then heard him say, “Call me, please!”
“I’ll see,” I said again, smiling broadly.
He finally turned and trotted back to his Benz. I went walking home, feeling like I was on cloud nine. It felt great to be wanted. I exhaled, thinking, where will this go? Eric made me feel refreshed and needed in that short amount of time.
