For the Love of Money (31 page)

I smiled. “Yeah, I keep forgetting about that, but other people keep reminding me of it.”

He ignored me and said, “Okay, so ten o'clock at the Doubletree.”

I was still unsure about it. “Are you serious?” I asked him, glancing inside of his store and feeling like a thief.

“Ten o'clock,” he told me. “I'll see you then.”

He walked back inside of his store and left me standing there in the cold. I hustled back to my rental car to drive away.

“Okay, so now I have to get a room at the Doubletree,” I told myself. I thought,
But what if that's too much? He just wants to talk it all out, so what the hell am
I
thinking?
In all actuality, I wanted to
sex
it all out. I mean, God,
the man hadn't touched me at all in ten years. My body was unfinished business too. I yearned for him. Deeply.

I arrived at my parents' house at six-thirty. The first thing I did was call the hotel to make a reservation.

“You're supposed to be taking Jason to the movies tonight?” my mother asked me in my old room.

Jason was getting himself ready for it, but most of the movies started at close to eight or after eight, which wouldn't give me enough time to get back down to the Doubletree to check in before ten o'clock.

I said, “Actually, I'm gonna have to take him tomorrow because something else came up.”

Jason overheard me while out in the hallway. He asked, “What, you got a date with a guy now?”

I paused, feeling guilty about it. I said, “Raheema's getting all of her girls together tonight. She
does
have a wedding tomorrow. This is her last night of the single life.”

“You knew that
before
you promised Jason a movie,” my mother said, instigating.

Jason said, “Aw, Mom, don't make it sound like I have my feelings all hurt, because I don't. I don't have to go to the movies with her.” He was wearing your typical baggy jeans and extra large sports gear with a ski jacket that teenagers of the nineties wore.

“Well,
I
don't think it's right,” my mother sulked. “You don't go out of your way to make promises to somebody just to break them.”

I sighed and said, “Mom, he'll
live.
Okay? If he would have waited around a little longer for me to pick him up from school today, we could have been at the movies right now.”

“I
did
wait. I waited until like five o'clock, and by that time, it was time for me to go, because I'm not just gonna stand around in North Philly all day when I didn't know how long you were gonna be.”

“Yeah, you did the right thing,” my mother told him. “She should have left earlier to pick you up on time.”

I said, “Well, if you feel that strongly about taking Jason to the movies, Mom, then why don't you and Dad take him?” She was really getting under my skin about it.

“Aw, naw, I'm not going out like that,” Jason responded.

“That's a good idea. What's so wrong with that, Jason? We could use a good movie outing together.”

I started laughing.

Jason said, “Naw, you don't go to the movies with your parents.”

“Not as a high schooler you don't,” my father walked out from his room and put in.

“Well, do you want to go to the movie with me?” my mother asked him.

I figured it was time for me to sneak away in the chaos. I could check into the Doubletree before eight and have plenty of time to gather some of my more intimate things from my room at the Four Seasons. So I took off from my parents' house to plan the rest of my night.

I made it back to the Four Seasons after getting my room key at the Doubletree, and packed up my sensual clothing to take with me. Even married, Victor did not fail to add excitement to my life, like he had done so many times while we were both still teenagers. No other man could compete with the excitement that he gave me. However, on the way out with my things, I was caught red-handed by Raheema's bridesmaids.

“Where are
you
going, Tracy?”

Out to mind my own business,
I thought to myself.

I said, “I have to make a last-minute run up to my house in Germantown so my mother can help me sew a few things for tomorrow. I want to make sure I look just right.”

“Talk about last-minute alterations,” someone said. It was close to nine o'clock by then.

“It's not
that
late, and I don't want to have to do this in the morning,” I commented. Imagine that. I was even
lying
to be with Victor again, and I definitely felt guilty about it, but so what? I couldn't stop myself. I was possessed by the dream again, the dream of Victor and I together forever.

Instead of going point for point with Raheema's girls, I just kept stepping. “Tell Raheema I'll see her later on.”

Of course I felt bad about not hanging out with my girl that night, but she
had
her man, and I wanted mine
back.

I drove over to the Doubletree, parked my rental car in the garage, and went up to my room on the eleventh floor. I had all of the things I had planned for a rendezvous with Mike, but I hadn't even called him back, and I didn't care to.

He'll get over it,
I told myself.
Life goes on.

I was screwing over
everyone
just to be with Victor again. Nevertheless, I was jumping the gun. Qadeer only wanted to talk things through. He didn't want to jump my bones or come back to me or anything, I just
wished
that he did. So I kept my things inside of my bag to make sure I didn't embarrass myself. I guess I wanted him to go back to being plain old Victor from around the way, with no wife, no kids, and no Muslim name, if only for one night.

The minutes between nine and ten o'clock seemed like hours. I couldn't stop myself from looking at the clock. Every five minutes I looked. The closer it got to ten, the more anxious I became. At ten of, my crazy behind decided to slip on the electric blue, form-fitting dress that I planned to wear out on a date with Mike. Boy was I desperate for some loving from my old flame. I was just like those silly-behind women in those relationship novels, but I could not stop myself. Like I said, real life was stranger than fiction.

The telephone rang while I adjusted my dress in the mirror, and it shocked the hell out of me. That's just how on edge I was. I walked over and answered it after calming my nerves.

“Hello.”

“Sorry, I'm late. I had to find a parking spot.”

I looked at the clock. It was eight minutes after ten.

I said, “That's okay, as long as you're here.” However, since he had searched for a parking spot instead of using the hotel's garage, I guess he didn't plan to stay long. Of course he didn't, he was married. My heart dropped an inch inside of my chest, weighing low with that final reality. Qadeer only wanted to talk.

I gave him my room number and thought of changing back into something more casual. What difference would it all make?

When he arrived and tapped on the door, I took one last deep breath, while still wearing my sexy blue dress, and let him in. He was wearing the same sweater and blue jeans that I saw him in a few hours earlier. Why should he have changed when he only wanted to talk?

Since it was a last-minute reservation, I had a double occupancy with twin beds instead of a king-size. I walked over and sat down on the bed closest to the window.

He walked in, looked around, and said, “Nice room.” He sat on the bed opposite mine in front of me.

I sighed, feeling useless. “Well, where do we start?” I asked. I had all kinds of things running through my mind, and I was a grown-ass woman so I could think whatever the hell I wanted to think!

He looked at me and smiled before ignoring my question.

“That's a nice dress that you're wearing,” he said.

“Thank you,” I responded. Not that his compliment meant anything.

“That dress could turn on many men.”

I stopped and asked, “Does it turn
you
on?”

He said, “Of course it does. That's what you wanted to do, right, turn me on tonight?”

He made me sound like a flirt, but I
was
flirting. How could I deny it? I wanted to do much more than that. After all, he was my man
first, and
he was my first love. I considered his wife secondary.
She
was the thief. Or at least that was what I was willing to tell myself if push came to shove, and I definitely wanted him to push inside of me.

So I answered, “Yes. I
do
want to turn you on.”

He nodded, and I paid him my full attention. What would he ask me next?

“You want to make love to me?”

That was my Victor all right. He was straight to the point and confident about it, with no shame to his game. I didn't have any shame in
mine
either.

“Yes I do. Badly.”

He looked at me and smiled again. Was he bullshitting, or was he serious? The Victor that
I
knew was not a bullshit artist. Was Qadeer?

“We can't make love with our clothes on,” he said to me.

I looked and read his eyes again, those beautiful dark and steady things that saw so much of so many women.

“Are we really making love at all?” I asked him. I didn't know if I wanted all of the man, or just the sex. I just wanted
something,
something real again, to feel his flesh against mine, and to dig my fingers into him. The rest would come after the satisfaction of the moment. I wanted the moment first. I couldn't even think about the future until the moment had been taken.

“I could no longer touch a woman that I didn't love, Tracy,” he told me.

That caught me off guard.

“Are you saying that you love me then?” My heart was skipping like a happy horse in soft grass. Maybe we
could
have a future together again. I didn't even think about how. I just figured that true love would find a way.

Victor looked into my eyes and said, “Of course I do. But I also love my wife and my sons. Can you understand that?”

How could I not? I nodded to him. “Yeah, I understand.” It was just between us, and for the moment we were silent.

“So, you would still make love to me then?” I asked him. He had asked
me
that question, and I was still confused about it. What exactly were we saying to each other? What were we about to do with each other? It was all a crazy predicament.

He said, “Yes, if that's what you want.”

“What do
you
want?” I had to know what was on his mind.

“Does it really matter what
I
want? This is
your
hotel room.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“I'm saying that this is all on you.”

He was still Victor Hinson all right. Mind control. He made it seem as if I was making my own deal with the devil. Was I? . . . Honestly, I was, but that didn't mean I wanted to be
reminded
of that.

“If you love me like you
say
you do, then
you
would want the same thing that
I
want,” I rationalized. I was beginning to get defensive.

Victor grinned in response. He said, “That doesn't make it right.”

“How could it be
right
at all, Victor? You're married,” I snapped at him.

“And you met my wife.”

His point was well taken.
I
would be at fault just as much as
he
would.

“So, what do we do then?” I asked, starting back from point A. I really wanted to jump on him, kiss him hard on the lips, and tell him to do me anyway, if just for old-times' sake, so that I could move on with a new lasting memory of him, and of
us
together.

I guess he could still read my mind because he began to smile with those moon white teeth of his.

“Would you be able to live with yourself, Tracy?”

He was teasing me.

“Would
you
be able to live with
yourself
?” I asked him back.

He said, “No question.”

“You really don't have any shame about it then.”

“Shame about what, making love to a sister who I love?”

“Well, how come I'm not
Mrs.
Muhammad then?” I asked him.

“That's not your world, TracFy. It never
could
be. You know that as well as I do.”

He was telling me the truth. I couldn't be a Muslim woman. No way in the world! What more could I say?

“So, do we take our clothes off now?” I asked him. I wanted to see if he would back down from it.

To my surprise, he stood up from the bed and pulled his T-shirt from his pants and began to undo his belt buckle. He pulled his sweater and T-shirt off, dropped his pants to the floor, and started undoing his shoes. When he was done, he stood before me black and naked, and cut like a strong pharaoh.

Oh my God!
I was ready to faint I wanted him so badly! I slipped out of that dress and my bra and panties faster than a hurricane to join him in nakedness and get on with the boning.

I walked over to him expecting him to push me away. I expected the
dream to just stop right in the middle of it, but it didn't. When I tasted his lips and his tongue for the first time in too many damn years, I could already feel the readiness to my private parts as I reached to caress his.

“I missed you so much,” I whispered to him. Was I talking to Victor or to his thing? I wasn't so sure.

Victor didn't respond to me. His tongue wet my neck and tickled down to my shoulder. I wanted to feel him inside of me yesterday. Last week. Last year.
Five
years ago! I couldn't wait anymore!

“Do you have any protection?” I asked him.

“No.”

I had my own, so I broke away momentarily to go and get it from my bag. It was supposed to be for Mike, just in case he forgot
his
protection or brought some that I didn't like, but when I brought the condoms to Victor, he pushed them away.