Riding the Corporate Ladder (Indigo) (13 page)

Deena stepped out of the tub fifteen minutes later shaking her booty like a Soul Train dancer. She boogied to her closet in search of one of those naughty Chanels she rejected the night before. She found one that was perfect; hot pink, sleeveless, and backless. Since she couldn’t wear a bra with it, she slipped it on with no panties, either, because it’s no fun to go commando halfway.

She let down her hair and slipped on a pair of four-inch stilettos. When she got back to the kitchen, her pizza was golden brown, and her cell phone was ringing in her purse. She went for the phone and an oven mitt at the same time.

“Hello?”

“Nigga, is you gon’ answer the door?”

An easy smile parted Deena’s lips. “My bad, girl. I’m on my way.”

* * *

The Tomlinson twins were thirty-six years old and nowhere near ready to take their lives slow or easy. They were identical, both pretty in the face and thin in the waist. They were every man’s dream and every woman’s nightmare.

The twins were coochie-popping, lip-gloss-glistening divas who could shut down the spot wherever they went and take the man of any dame they caught slipping. They were loud, boorish, conceited, and obnoxious, and (most of the time) Deena was proud to call them friends. It was definitely better to be with them than against them.

Latasha came in wearing a black miniskirt with a leather bodice that would have looked odd on anyone else but her. Her 34C breasts were bursting out of the top, but that was nothing compared to the huge slit down the side of her skirt. She had so much skin showing, Deena couldn’t wait to see people’s reactions when she sat down.

But as sexy as Latasha was, her sister almost outdid her in a shiny red catsuit reminiscent of Pam Grier in her Foxy Brown days. Natasha’s outfit was sleeveless with a halter top and long pant legs that flared out into bell bottoms. Natasha didn’t have as much skin showing, but she was no more conservative than her sister; her suit was made of stretchy vinyl, and Deena knew squeezing into it took some effort. It clung to every one of her curves. Her legs and ass looked simply marvelous.

Both girls had long hair that flowed midway down their backs, courtesy of their Italian mother, and they both wore it down today.

“Damn,” Deena said. “Every time I see you bitches, you’re getting thicker and thicker.”

“Yeah, right,” Natasha countered. “Like that Chanel you got on ain’t two sizes too small. You the one poking out.”

Deena gave them both a big hug. “Y’all want some pizza?”

Latasha turned her sister around and pointed at her voluptuous bum. “Does it look like she be missing meals?”

Deena had to agree that it didn’t.

* * *

The girls ate in the kitchen and took turns rehashing their latest sexual exploits, as they always did. Deena wasn’t on the prowl as much as she used to be, so the twins had a greater abundance of tales to spew. But no one had a story more outlandish than Deena’s this time around.

She wouldn’t tell them the name of the hip-hop mogul who gave her derrière such special attention, and that made her story even more intriguing.

“Who was it, girl?” Natasha sat up in her seat with a half-eaten pizza crust in hand.

“You know I’m not telling you,” Deena said.

“It was Busta Rhymes, wasn’t it?” Latasha guessed. “That nigga got a big mouth. I can see him eating some ass.”

“It wasn’t Busta Rhymes,” Deena said. “But you’re right about that mouth. I wish I would run into his fine ass sometimes.”

“Was it T.I.?” Natasha asked.

Deena frowned. “No.”

“Diddy?” Latasha ventured.

“No.”

“Lil Wayne?” Natasha guessed.

“Lil Wayne look like he’ll eat the hell out of some ass!” her sister noted.

“Except he got them big-ass teeth,” Natasha said.

“It wasn’t Lil Wayne,” Deena said with a chuckle. “And stop asking, because I’m not going to say who it was.”

“They got that lawyer/client confidentiality,” Natasha said.

“That only covers stuff they do in the courtroom,” Latasha said.

“I ain’t had my ass ate out in a long time,” Natasha mused.

“Me, neither,” her sister said. “I be missing Nelson sometimes. That boy knew how to handle his business.”

“Ooh, he sure did,” Natasha said, and they both got lost in separate memories for a second.

Deena stared at them oddly, but neither one of them got upset so she didn’t say anything, either.

“Let’s hurry up and go,” Natasha said. “I’ll bet I can find at least one nigga down there who lick booty.” She stood and everyone got up with her.

“Hey, did I tell y’all Yesenia’s meeting us there?” Deena asked on the way to the door.

“Why didn’t she come over here so we could all ride together?” Natasha asked.

“She didn’t want to go at all ’cause she has a date tonight,” Deena explained. “I asked her to take him to the Coco so I could check him out.”

“Why you do that?”

“ ’Cause she’s never seen him, and you know how it can go sometimes.”

“How she meet him?” Natasha asked.

“It was through a dating service,” Deena said. “But don’t trip with her about it. And don—”

“I’ma clown if he’s ugly,” Natasha said.

“That’s exactly what I was going to say,” Deena said. “Don’t say anything if he’s ugly.”

But Natasha shook her head. “Whatever, girl. I’ma clown.”

* * *

The Coco Lounge was a cozy little nightspot on the west side of the city. On the weekends the manager brought in a live band to woo patrons, but throughout the week they relied on scantily clad barmaids and two-dollar well drinks to fill the seats. There was always a good racial mix, but usually there were more whites than blacks. Hardcore gangbangers from Overbrook Meadows’ south side were hardly ever in attendance.

Deena and the twins walked in at nine-thirty, and they quickly spotted Yesenia seated at a table near the bar. Yesenia was wearing a stylish black dress, and she had her bosoms pushed up more than Deena had ever seen them. But the big surprise was the man sitting across from her. Deena never would’ve guessed it, but Yesenia’s mystery man was fine as hell; tall, muscular, and very delectable. She hurried over to get a better look.

“Well, hey, hey!” Deena sneaked up and tapped her friend on the shoulder.

Yesenia spun and jumped out of her seat when she saw who it was.

“Hey, Deena!” She threw her arms around her for a huge hug.

Yesenia was five feet even and 185 pounds. She was a fair-skinned Hispanic with long, curly hair, big boobs, and big hips. She was attractive, even without the gobs of makeup she had on tonight, but she always found something about her appearance to be unhappy about. Lately it was her big legs and big arms she was at odds with.

She let go of Deena and gave a guarded, “Hey,” to the twins with far less fanfare. She didn’t look too pleased to have three beautiful women at her table.

“Well, who’s your friend?” Deena said. “Introduce, introduce…”

Yesenia turned back to her date, smiling ear to ear. “Darren, this is my best friend Deena. She’s a lawyer. And those are her friends.”

The handsome stranger stood to greet them, and Deena offered her hand cordially. She never thought those personal ads had any worthy fish in the pot, but Mr. Darren looked to be a good catch. He stood over six feet, three inches tall, wasn’t fat, and definitely wasn’t ugly. He wore khaki slacks a with white golf shirt tucked in neatly. His stomach was washboard flat, and his chest was firm and enticing.

He was brown-skinned, almost bronze, with short hair and thin eyebrows. He wore no beard or moustache, and other than the fact that he was balding a little, Darren looked like the kind of guy Deena might go out with.

He took her hand and shook it softly. “Pleased to meet you.” His voice was deep and rich, and Deena didn’t know it, but the way she stared into his eyes was tantamount to flirting.

“Hi,” she said. “What do you do for a living, Darren?”

“I’m a coach,” he said, “at Meadowbrook Middle.”

“Wow, what a coincidence,” Deena said. “Yesenia’s a teacher, too.”

“I told you they matched us up based on our compatibility,” her friend said.

Deena looked over and saw that Yesenia was still smiling, but she also looked a little uncomfortable.

“Well, all right,” Deena said. “We’re going to go get a table over there so y’all can get acquainted. But if you need anything, just holler…” She backed away with the twins on her heels. Yesenia seemed pleased with that, but her date looked like he wanted them to stay awhile longer.

“It was nice to meet you,” he said. “I hope to see you guys again.”

* * *

Deena and her crew had to get a table pretty far away so they could talk freely, but they were still within eyeshot.

Natasha was the first to say what they were all thinking: “Damn, dude was fine.”

“For real,” her sister piped in.

“Yeah,” Deena said.

“What he doing in the personal ads?” Natasha asked.

“Maybe he has a hard time approaching women,” Deena offered. “Maybe he’s recently divorced…”

“What he doing with her?” Latasha asked.

“You’d better quit,” Deena said. “Yesenia’s a good woman. He’d be lucky to have her.”

“He forgot all about her when you walked up,” Natasha said. It wasn’t a good night for her unless there was some messiness about.

“He did,” Latasha agreed with a snicker.

Deena started to feel guilty about the role she might have played in that. “I’m not even going there,” she said. “Let’s get some drinks.”

They flagged down a waiter, and the night took on a smoother groove with the alcohol flowing in their systems. There were only six black men among the fifty people in attendance, and they all spotted Deena’s table and hovered like gnats for the rest of the evening. None of them were particularly praiseworthy, but neither Deena nor the twins were looking for a hookup, so it didn’t matter.

After four rounds Deena was flirting with inebriation, and her friends were openly slithered. The twins hit the dance floor with each other and had more fans than a Soul Train line. They weren’t gay, but the way they groped and grinded on each other gave all of the fellows dirty thoughts.

It looked like big fun, but Deena wasn’t really in the mood to dance just yet. She sat at the table alone and stared across the room at Yesenia and her date. They seemed to be hitting it off fairly well, and they looked good together. Every time Deena looked over there, they were laughing and leaning in closer and closer.

Deena thought she’d be proud or at least happy for her friend, but she wasn’t, and she didn’t know why. She might have sat there staring at them all night trying to figure it out, but an all right-looking brother approached her table and distracted her for a while.

“Hi. You wanna dance?”

Deena looked up and saw that he had on jeans with a long-sleeved button-down that was not tucked in. She also saw that his watch had a plastic band, but she got up anyway. Attention was the only thing he had to offer her, but today was this sap’s lucky day.

She took his trembling hand and smiled. “Sure.”

She walked him to the dance floor, knowing he was ogling her ass with every step. When she turned and put her arms around his neck, his eyes were wide like saucers. He couldn’t even close his mouth. Deena was so out of it, she couldn’t really see what he looked like anymore.

The DJ burst into a 50 Cent mix kicked off by a slow version of Candy Shop. Deena didn’t care much for that rapper, but she liked the Indian horns blended in with the beat. She looked her new friend in the eyes and sashayed her hips like a Genie coming out of a bottle. He stared with his feet frozen to the floor.

“You asked me to dance,” she reminded. “Can’t you dance?”

He shook his head. “I-I really didn’t think you would say yes.”

She smiled and frowned at the same time. “What’s your name?”

“Quh-Quincy.”

“What do you do?”

“I-I drive busses.”

Deena almost pushed him away right then, but everyone else was having a good time and she didn’t want to be the only one not enjoying herself. This was her get-together, after all.

“If you can’t dance, put your hands on me,” she instructed.

He was hesitant, so she moved into him. He stopped breathing for a second when her breasts pressed into his chest, but his hands did come up awkwardly to her waist area. She looked him in the eyes and smiled.

“Not so bad, huh?”

He shook his head stiffly.

“Touch me,” she ordered. “Touch my ass.”

Quincy may not have known how to dance, but he certainly knew how to play grab-ass. He palmed both of her cheeks with no hesitation. Deena kept her eyes locked on his, rocking softly. He took that as a green light and gave her butt a nice squeeze. When she still didn’t stop him, he began to fondle with reckless abandon, and for the first time that night, Deena actually felt something good.