A Cheating Man's Heart 2 Page 5

  I wasn't going to stop her at first because a little extra never hurts.

  "Auntie, I'm okay. You don't gotta do that. I just came to see if you was doing all right today," I said with a half smile, trying to make sure I didn't alarm her by being so random.

  "Aww, I'm doing just fine, couldn't be better. How you?"

  "I'm cool. Full, could use a little rest. Auntie, you don't ever get tired?"

  She slowed down her wiping and paused for a minute to think. "I suppose. I think everybody gets tired from time to time. But the good Lawd will supply all our needs so no use in worryin'. Ain't gon' make the world spin no slower."

  She went back to wiping the counter down. I knew her answer was layered with more than the words she spoke just by the look on her face when I asked.

  Sometimes we can be so strong that we fool the world into thinking we're invincible but end up feeling unimportant because nobody ever checks on us. I've felt like that before.

  "You're right. I guess I can let you go ahead and get back to work. Stay up, Auntie, I'll see you later."

  "You sure you don't want nothin' to take witcha? There's some mo' food in the back I can get if you wanna wait over there while I finish up."

  "No, ma'am, I'll manage. Thank you though."

  She smiled again and with that, I turned and walked away.

  ***

  Our eyes met.

  Her body slow winded almost too slow to see but just fast enough to feel.

  My hands gripped tighter by the second as I bit my bottom lip and prepared myself to--

  Click

  I looked down and checked the back of the Nikon for a preview of the photo. It looked amazing. My three-point lighting really made the contouring of her make-up pop. Even without my retouching, Chantel's creamy vanilla skin seemed to just keep pouring without a single blemish in sight.

  "How'd that one look?" she asked anxiously as she came out of her pose. "Let me see."

  "In a minute." I waved her off. "Let's try a few more and then we can wrap it up."

  It was late, about ten-thirty on a Wednesday night. But I didn't have any morning classes the next day so I hit her up to try for some portfolio shots that I could use to promote to get extra business with. Only thing was, no matter how great they looked, I just couldn't settle on the right one.

  "I don't see why you don't just get in front of the camera. You're the one hogging up all the sexy."

  I shook my head. "Not now Chan. No time, for experimenting, and besides, that's pretty narcissistic. The photographer who learned photography so he could professionally photograph himself. Imagine that."

  "Himself? I'm right here, I can do it. All you do is aim and press this button right here, right?" She reached for my camera and I damned near had a heart attack.

  "Actually, no, you do not. And you will not."

  "I'm just saying, your clientele is mostly female. So, it makes sense to advertise with something females wanna see. What better way than with a guy who's got all these muscles everywhere?"

  I looked up at her as we both made eye contact with the understanding she was starting to make sense.

  "Shawn, just show me the basics and you can do all the rest later on when you edit. The lighting is already set; all that's left is for you to say cheese." She grinned mischievously.

  My hesitation came from the realization that this was either going to be a hit or miss. I'd seen it too many times.

  But, if I could pull it off, it could be just the buzz I needed to really catch people's attention. Sex sells, so a little leasing wouldn't hurt.

  "Okay, but if you break it, you buy it," I said, putting my Nikon gently in her hands.

  I gave her a brief tutorial on how to operate my $1500 investment, all the while trying to rid my imagination of vivid portrayals of a disaster. People crack screens to their iPhones like they lose socks, and here I was handing over my livelihood to a complete amateur.

  I walked over and stood by the wall and looked at the camera, then stood in what I felt like was a masculine enough modeling stance. I was trying to look at myself in the mirror beside the camera but was too tall, so it cut off my head.

  "Okay, now pose," she barked, like she was the professional.

  "I am posing."

  "Well, do another pose."

  So, I smiled. It was the last trick in the bag. My only secret weapon.

  She brought her head from behind the camera and looked at me like she was disappointed. It kinda hurt my feelings. Like my smile wasn't shit.

  "How about this? Just take off your shirt."

  "I don't know about all that, Chan, I mean--"

  "Oh, stop whining and just do it. I've seen a chest before, Shawn."

  Trying to be cooperative, I grabbed my shirt from the bottom and began taking it off.

  Click. Click. Click. Click.

  "What are you doing?" I said through the shirt.

  "Don't stop. And don't talk either. Just do as I say and let me work."

  I got it all the way off, threw it over on the couch and looked back at her, annoyed that she was bossing me around.

  She went on, "Oh yeah, that's it. Give me the pissed-off bad-boy face. I like!"

  She kept clicking for a few seconds and then stopped. Walked over to the sink and poured a cup of water.

  "Oh, please don't tell me you're exhausted. You've only been back there five minutes and already you need a drink?" I teased.

  She walked towards me with the cup. "No, this is for you,"

  "But I never said I was thir--"

  Before I got my words out she'd already thrown the cup of water, drenching me from my face on down.

  She laughed. "Thirsty? Well, these females will be once they see these pics. Now hold what you got right there."

  She ran back over to the tripod and started clicking again. My eyes were burning from the unfiltered tap water.

  "That's one sexy squint you got there, Shawn. You're a natural."

  "I'm not squinting, Chan. I can't even see."

  She wasn't listening; she just kept snapping one after another.

  "All right, stop," I pleaded, barely able to hear myself over her continuous clicking. "Dammit, I said STOP!!!"

  I raised my voice this time so she could hear me, walked over and snatched my camera from her.

  "Okay, excuse me, mister," she laughed

  Simultaneously, we both looked at the most recent shot's preview and it surprised me. I'd never seen myself shirtless in HD, but my stomach was tight and if I didn't know any better, I'd say I looked pretty damn good.

  "See, I told you to let me do it. No fee, this time."

  "Yeah, whatever. I mean, they look a'ight, but I can barely tell with this water you threw in my eyes."

  "Well, then maybe you'll have to just trust me then. I think I've done enough to earn that from you."

  Her voice softened. "I got you, Shawn. I'm in your corner. We all need somebody in our corner. I don't know why you're so afraid of admitting that. You're not a super hero, you're human"

  A painful memory of Danielle emerged. The good times when she called me Superman, and to her, I was that super hero. But those days were behind me.

  "Look, let's not get into any of that because we both know we're not tryna take it there. This is business and we need to keep it that way."

  "Ain't nothin' business about the fact we always find ourselves together. Laughing. Having a good time. You know like I know, this campus is full of pretty ass chicks. And like you said before, I ain't the only one. Yet here I am, and it's because you want me here. You know you can depend on me. You obviously enjoy being around me and you'd be lying if you said you weren't attracted to me. So, what's the hold-up?"

  I looked her in her eye, trying to find words to describe exactly what it was but at the same time not sure if she deserved to know. Even if I could explain it, my situation was personal and it needed to stay that way.

  "Like I said, let's not get into any of that. Re
gardless of how many times I see you, we're not tryna take it there. I'm not tryna take it there."

  I walked over to the kitchen counter and set my camera down, trying to steer clear from sitting on the hot seat any longer.

  Despite me missing Danielle like crazy, I couldn't deny that an attempt to fill that void was getting difficult to resist. Chantel was fine as hell.

  "Yeah, well, I want you. So I will have you."

  "What?"

  "I said, I'll be back over later to get the pics," she replied as she walked off, grabbing her purse in stride to the door.

  She must not have thought I heard her. But I did. Loud and clear.

  Chapter 7

  She Was Beyoncé, and I Was Just Michelle

  Five hundred likes. And counting.

  I walked away from my computer for about an hour and came back to over five hundred likes on my pictures with comments not far behind. Far more than I'd ever had or expected or gotten. And as much as people swear that picture likes don't matter, it gave me a rush.

  On top of that, my inbox was filled with new admirers, but I wasn't concerned about that. Above all, I needed some paid work and found a few requests for some sprinkled throughout the clutter.

  I started booking one photo shoot after another. With two weeks left to get Ronnie the thousand bucks and bills still left to pay, there was no such thing as too many clients. Couples' pics, early graduation pics, maternity pics, everything was thrown at me, and I was catching them left and right.

  If that wasn't enough good luck for one day, Danielle texted me right afterwards. First!

  Baby: Watch out Tyson Beckford. lol ;) Nice pics mister. [10:21 a.m.]

  My chest filled with so much air I could've floated on a puddle. I texted her back.

  Me: I have no idea what you're talking about. Maybe you should explain...face to face?? :)[10:23 a.m.]

  Baby: What'd you have in mind?[10:29 a.m.]

  Me: You. Me. A nice break from studying. Tonight. About 8'oclock.[10:30 a.m.]

  Baby: Are you asking me on a date?[10:37 a.m.]

  Me: Are you saying yes?[10:38 a.m.]

  Baby: Yup. See you at 8.[10:49 a.m.]

  That sealed it.

  Just so happened a comedian was on tour and stopping by in a nearby city that night. One more excuse for me to see her again.

  We had been talking a little more lately, slowly easing our way back into being comfortable. And although we weren't back together, it was evident that we both missed each other.

  I picked her up that night, suited and booted in my Sunday's best. Which wasn't much. Just the clothes I'd been wearing to meet business dress code for class. The one suit that used to be too big but I'd finally begun growing into, but with a lint brush, light iron, and dim lighting of the night, it didn't look half bad.

  But when she was walking across the parking lot, it became clear. She was Beyoncé and I was just Michelle.

  She had on a fitted little red dress that wrapped around behind her neck leaving an opening atop the split of her breast, just large enough to invite attention but small enough so you didn't get it twisted. Her large pearl earrings dangled from her ears swinging gently into her cheeks that raised into a smile as she got in the car.

  "Well, don't you look handsome?" she said, eyeing me up and down, the street lights dancing on her lip gloss with every word.

  "I was going to say the same for you. I mean, you know, not handsome but pretty. Beautiful, even." There was a time when I could charm the socks off any girl, but around this one, my smoothness was rough around the edges...and middle. I think the word for that is smitten. But I went ahead and pulled off so I wouldn't run out the $6.50 I'd put in the gas tank to get us there and possibly back. Yup, I said possibly.

  After searching for parking for at least an hour, partly due to conversational distraction and the other part trying to find a big enough space where we could get out without swiping against my dirty car, we finally walked in the packed house that was erupting with laughter.

  The comedian had already found a victim on the front row who was going back and forth with him to everyone's delight.

  "You got the nerve to call me short?" he said to the little woman in the front. She looked somewhat on the heavier side, judging from the arm she had waving at him as she talked back.

  "Yeah, I said it. You short, that's the ONLY reason we laugh at you!" she yelled back at him.

  The crowd busted out laughing. Everyone seemed to be on about their third and fourth drinks.

  "Well, how tall are you?" he asked her.

  "I'm four foot eleven but I'm a woman. I'm fun-sized!"

  "Fun-sized? No ma'am, you family-sized!" he yelled, slapping his knee and running around the stage. The crowd erupted into laughter.

  I was about to join them, but after examining Danielle's face, I held it in. She wasn't amused.

  Danielle was thick. Very thick. So, big girls were like her kindred sisters. I loved big women too, since I had plenty in my family. They could all cook and sing for some reason. But if the joke was on me, they would've laughed without a second thought. But still, I bit my tongue.

  He kept going. "You and all yo extra helpings need to stop lying to the mirror. Talking about a fun size. Ain't nothing fun about being four foot eleven, 350 pounds. That ain't fun, that's manual labor. Sit yo ass down and let me finish my show!"

  The place was going crazy; even the woman was laughing. While they were distracted, I tried to hurry up and find a seat, but it was too late. He spotted me.

  "And what do we have here? Ay, man, you think you just gon' walk in all late and I ain't gon' get you too?"

  All eyes turned toward me. Danielle and I froze where we stood, me contemplating exactly how far I'd go if he started talking about my baby. He could talk about me, but he'd better leave her out of it.

  He came off stage and walked up to us. "Damn, I better not say nothin' to this big muh-fucka here. He already dressing like he going to court."

  I laughed, hoping he'd move on to someone else in the audience. Of course, he didn't.

  "Yeah, you must really like her." He turned and looked at Danielle. "He good to you?" he asked.

  "Yes, he is," she replied.

  "Y' all go together?"

  She looked at me for an answer. I looked back at her without one.

  He turned to the crowd and said, "Oh, she hesitated, y'all. You know what that mean. That mean she gon' wait till later on tonight when he tryna get some ass to ask him, 'So what are we doing?' Ladies, y'all love doing that!"

  The crowd laughed in agreement, some of the women high-fiving each other.

  "Ay, man, I ain't gon' pick on you. Matter of fact, I'm gon' help you out." He came closer to me and reached his arm over my shoulder like he was telling me a secret. "When the waiter come tonight, and he ask you if you want the check together or split separately, you look at ya girl dead in her eye and say, 'You gon' let me get some tonight?' If she don't say yeah, you tell the waiter to split that bitch like the Red Sea!"

  Danielle and I, along with the whole crowd broke out into hysteria. On the inside I was relieved; that wasn't so bad at all.

  He went back on stage to finish his set, and it was a good one. We laughed, sipped mixed drinks, (mine without the straw for a touch of manliness), and were hand in hand the whole night. That magical twinkle was in our eyes that you used to see in movies back in the day. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Either way, it felt good.

  Afterwards, I took her back to my place, hoping she'd come up, get too sleepy to leave, and spend the night with me. Didn't even have to have sex. That first time back with her lying in my arms, going to sleep in our dress clothes, that'd do just fine.

  She examined my apartment as she walked in. "Hmm...the place looks nice. You been keeping it up pretty good. Or do you got some chick over here cleaning for you?"

  "Nope, I haven't had any girls over here. Just me," I lied. Sorta. Technically, I didn't have any girls over unless the
y were clients and clients didn't count...at the moment.

  She pursed her lips in disbelief but only for a moment before she sat down. I went to the fridge and pulled out my bottle of cheap wine I saw on clearance at the grocery store, then filled her a glass.

  "Thank you," she said, receiving the beverage. "So, what have you been up to lately?"

  "Besides missing you?"

  She rolled her eyes like she'd made lasagna with less cheese than that statement. I probably could've done better. But instead of dwelling, I smiled like I was purposely being corny.

  I continued, "Photography. I've been up to that lately as well."

  "Yeah, I noticed." She took a few sips and looked at the glass as to try and identify what she was drinking. Cheap had a bitter taste to it, judging by the face she made. "That kinda surprised me."

  "Why?"

  "I mean, not because I thought you wouldn't be good at it. You were always pretty creative. I guess, for some reason I thought you were going to eventually make something out of your writing."

  I sat back in my seat, sipped a few times from my own glass. "Nah, that's not like a real career. That's just what I do when I'm bored."

  To me, writing was no different than being really good at building ships out of toothpicks. Nice to admire, but no money in it. Not unless you were telling women to think like men. Since that had already been done, I figured I had better things to do with mine and my family's livelihood than to be another starving artist.

  "It's what you love to do. I think you should go for it. You have so many pieces that any book publisher would gawk over."

  "You think so?"

  "Yeah, go get the one about fallen stars if you still got it. That was one of my favorites."

  I set my glass on the table, went into my closet and pulled out my shoe box full of old poems and short story rough drafts. The one she was referring to was one I'd written back in high school but let her read one night out at the lake.

  I walked back into the living room, noticing that her glass was almost empty. I handed her the poem and went to go grab the bottle to pour her some more.