Dirty Old Men [And Other Stories] (Zane Presents) (7 page)

BOOK: Dirty Old Men [And Other Stories] (Zane Presents)
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He was itching to call her up and fiddle around to see how much truth was in it. “Nah, she would think I had lost my mind,” he assumed. Maurice was right. Since Clarence had established a platonic relationship, there would be no changing of parameters.

But what if I asked once she needed something big from me again?
he questioned.
I could at least try it.

It only took another week before something
big
came up. They were nearing the Thanksgiving holiday break, with Christmas right around the corner.

“I was wondering if you believed in Santa Claus,” Brenda joked with him over the line.

“Yeah, and I was wondering if you believed in having a friendly dinner.”

“Sure I do,” she responded.

“Well, how come we still haven’t had one?”

“Because our schedules keep clashing.”

“No,
your
schedule keeps clashing.”

“Well, okay, I promise to go out with you as soon as I get back from the Thanksgiving break, and before Christmas.”

“But you need something for when you go back to Baltimore, right?”

“Oh, definitely. It’s almost shopping season. And I’ll be sure to come back with at least a few pieces from D.C. that you’ll love.”

Clarence flipped the script on her and said, “All right, well, we can talk about that over dinner before you leave.”

“I told you,
after
I get back. I got too much to do this week.”

She was indeed the boss of their awkward relationship. So Clarence got bold enough to state, “I might be too busy myself to meet up with you this time. But I know I gotta eat. You gotta eat, too. So let’s both eat together and talk about things.”

His heart was racing while he attempted to stand tall on a new backbone.

Brenda caught on to his new game and asked him, “Are you saying you’re not gonna give me anything unless I have dinner with you?”

“What’s so wrong with us having dinner?” he asked civilly enough.

“Nothing is wrong with us having dinner. I don’t like people giving me ultimatums and shit. And I already
told you
that I would do it once I got
back.

Her tone was totally demeaning to a man who had helped her out with more than a couple thousand dollars, so Clarence continued to stand his ground.

“I didn’t mean for you take it that way. But I guess I’ll talk to you when you have time.”

“I have time to talk right now,” she snapped.

He said, “I meant when you’re ready to pick up the money.”

That made her hesitate to try and figure him out. “I mean, what do you mean, ‘when I’m ready to pick up the money,’ Clarence? You know I’m busy right now.”

“Yeah, so when you’re not busy, we can go out and talk about everything.”

“Talk about everything like
what?
I mean, what are you telling me right now? Spit it out,” she challenged him.

Clarence finally came out with it and said, “I’m telling you that I’m tired of you running off after I give you what you need. But you can’t seem to have even an
hour
for me.”

“Because I don’t
have
a fucking hour,” she cursed. “Every time I meet up with you, you already know that my day is already mapped out. So what are you talking about?”

It was no use. The girl was plain
stubborn.
Clarence figured he should have seen it coming a long time ago. He wasn’t any closer to her than the man on the moon. And the money didn’t mean a damn thing. In fact, it seemed to have made her bolder.

I don’t believe how much of an idiot I’ve been!
he told himself.
She doesn’t even treat me like a friend, let alone somebody she’s interested in. I’m just a walking ATM machine!

Nevertheless, he managed to keep his poise with her. “Well, I’m here whenever you decide to see me. Okay?”

He was mimicking Maurice’s tone exactly.

She snapped, “Oh, don’t expect me to call you if you’re gonna treat me like that. Like I told you before, I don’t like when people try to lock me into shit that I already said I can’t do.”

“Okay, well, I’ll wait for you to come around then,” Clarence told her.

Finally, Brenda had run out of words to argue back and forth with him. “You know what…? Okay, whatever. I have to go.”

Clarence said, “All right, I’ll talk to you when you call me.” And that was it.

When he hung up, he felt full of apprehension about any kind of future relationship with her. But at the same time, he felt relieved. The pressure she had exerted on him had ended. And he could breathe freely again.

Two days later, getting closer to the holiday break, Brenda called Clarence back. He immediately asked, “Are you ready to see me about everything?”

She answered, “Yeah, let’s meet at our regular spot. And I need a round trip plane ticket back to BWI.”

She acted as if they had never spoken about his dinner date proposal just two days ago.

“You mean over dinner, right? You told me you like Chili’s. We can meet over there.”

Brenda exhaled loudly over the phone and said, “
Please
don’t start with that again. We’re
friends,
Clarence.
Friends
don’t have to go to dinner.”

“And friends don’t have to pay for airline tickets either.”

“What? I
always
give you your money back for those tickets.”

“What about for everything else I’ve given you money for? Is that what
‘friends’
do?”

“Oh, with no
problem.
I have other friends that give me money when I need it. I mean, not as
much,
but they help me out when they can.”

That was the wrong comment to make. Clarence said, “Well, you can tell them to help you out with everything else too, and until you learn to respect me more.” And he hung up on her without thinking. It was a raw passion thing. She had finally taken him to that point.

Of course, she called his ass right back, only for Clarence to ignore her two return calls. But then he answered her third one.

Brenda immediately told him, “Okay, we can go to Chili’s. Is that what you want?
God
!”

It was only a small victory, but a very hard-fought one.

All of that just to take this girl out to dinner once. That’s absolutely crazy!
Clarence thought.

But before he could comment on it, she added, “But my boyfriend will probably want to go with me.”

Clarence’s jaw dropped to the floor at his home. He was totally blindsided. “
Boyfriend?
Well, how come you never talked about him before?”

“I mean, what difference does it make, we’re just
‘friends’?

Clarence cursed,
This motherfucking bitch strung me along the whole got’dammed time!
He couldn’t believe it. He even challenged her on it.

“You don’t really have a boyfriend? Cut that out.”

She had to be pulling his old-ass legs.

Then she took the atrocity further. “You wanna speak to him? Hold on.” Before Clarence could tell her no, she put a robust male voice on the line. “Hello.”

Clarence didn’t want to say a damn thing to him. Was Brenda fucking with him or what?

I can’t believe this shit! I’ma got’damned FOOL!

Even if Brenda was joking, the joke had obviously gone too far.

MOTHERFUCKER!
Clarence cursed himself.
This is what the hell I get!

“Hello,” the male voice answered again. Then he told Brenda, “There’s nobody answering.”

Brenda returned to the line and said, “Clarence, I know you’re still there. What’s wrong? I mean, you’ve been like a big uncle to me. So let’s all go out and eat together.”

Clarence calmly press the END button on his cell phone and hung up. Then he recited Maurice’s number one rule: “You don’t choose
them,
they choose
you.
” And obviously, he had found out the hard way that he had
not
been chosen by a conniving-ass college girl.

“Fuck it,” he told himself. “I guess Maurice knows what he knows… And now
I
know it.”

MR. DAVID BUTLER SR.

Three eager young women walked into the downtown offices of David Butler Sr., a popular community activist who ran the Southeastern Empowerment Forum of small businesses and entrepreneurs in Birmingham, Alabama. David was a handsome power figure who could always be counted on to gather an enthusiastic crowd in the city. Recently turning forty-five, many viewed him as the next logical mayor. And although he had not yet announced his official interests in the position, everyone assumed that he would run for office in their next election. So the three excited women walked right up to his secretary at her desk inside the lobby, and inquired about summer internships for college credit in their upcoming senior year.

“We’re all willing to do whatever you have available for us,” the lead girl, who was the tallest, spoke up. They were all dressed professionally in women’s business suits of various dark material.

The secretary was intrigued by their optimistic support. But why had they all come together?

“Well, I could see maybe one or two of you, but all
three.
What would
I
have left to do?” she joked.

The young women laughed it off.

“You’ll still have your job.”

“Yeah, and at least you get
paid
for it,” the other two commented in unison.

The secretary countered, “Not if everyone shows up to work for
free,
I won’t.”

“Well, we could do a lot of things outside of the office, or after hours, while you go back home and chill more with your family or whatever,” the tall leader suggested.

Everyone knew that David Butler Sr. hosted plenty of evening events. And
since all three of the young women desired to be involved in event planning, they figured that mapping out functions and troubleshooting from the office of the man who may soon become the next mayor of the city was a top gig for experience.

However, his secretary frowned at their suggestion to replace her evening work. “Chill with my
family,
” she repeated. “What family is that?”

“You know, your husband and kids or whatever,” the second young woman responded. She was the shortest and the most striking, with sandy-brown skin and jet-black hair.

The secretary snapped, “Now wait a minute, I may be older than
you
all, but I’m not
that
old. And I haven’t
found
a husband to have children
with
yet.”

“Oh, my bad,” the second one apologized.

Indeed, the secretary was only twenty-six herself, and she could still hold her own in the dating game.

“Well, I’ll need to ask him if he has anything extra for you guys to do. Where do you go to school?” she questioned.

“Alabama State,” the third one answered. She seemed to be the most reserved with the thickest body, a real meat-and-potatoes woman.

The secretary frowned again. “Oh, there. Well, I went to A&M,” she bragged.

“We won’t hold it against you,” the tall leader joked on cue.

Her partners chuckled, but the secretary didn’t seem to find her quip as humorous.

“And you want an
internship
at
my
office?” she asked sarcastically.

The three young women were stuck for a minute. How would they respond to that? The Alabama A&M rival was obviously in a decision-making position?

The second young woman finally broke the silence. “I mean, it’s all in good fun. We’re all black schools, and we’re all trying to get ahead and do what we need to do.”

“Well, you know that
David
went to A&M
too
, right,” the secretary rubbed in.

“We won’t hold it against
him
either, ” the third woman added.

The camaraderie had been sucked out of the room. They all felt like walking back out and starting all over again.

The tall leader announced, “Well, we’re not here for rivalry right now; we’re here for unity.”

“I bet you are,” the secretary quipped back. She looked to have the last laugh. But just as their conversation seemed to have stalled, David Butler Sr. barged into the lobby while on his cell phone. Robert Clay, his childhood friend and long-time assistant, was holding the office door open for him.

“Yeah, we’re on our way over there now.”

The three women were all in shock and bubbled with energy.

David noticed them as he hung up his call.

“Ah, who are you?” he asked the tall leader specifically. She was in the most ready position to greet him.

She held out her hand to him like an honorable dignitary. “I’m Treena Barkley, and these are my friends, Beverly Simpson and Raquelle Freeman,” she addressed.

They each smiled and shook the man’s hand. He was dressed in his usual sharp suit with a stylish tie, and was groomed for perfection, with a fresh haircut, pleasant-smelling cologne, and a clean-shaven face.

“You can call me Rocki,” the third young woman greeted him.

David chuckled. “Well, what can I do for you ladies?”

“We’re here from Alabama State to ask for summer internships, and we’re all from the Birmingham area,” Treena responded.

BOOK: Dirty Old Men [And Other Stories] (Zane Presents)
4.89Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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