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We excused ourselves and left Paul at the bar.
“What is it, Dallas?”
“Joe Long called me today. He wanted to know if you had ever t
alked to me about Victor. I had no idea what he was getting at.”
“So, what did you say?” I asked calmly.
“I said no and he hung up on me. What did he mean, Jackie?”
A long time ago Dallas caught me up in a real trick bag. What happened was this: The editor-in-chief of Urban Girl magazine contacted me, looking for a book deal. She didn’t have a definite idea in mind but the circulation of her magazine was over a million. I knew that she had a powerful platform to sell huge numbers of any book she did write. So, I did my homework and came up with a few ideas. At that time, Dallas and I were tight so we went over my list of concepts together. The bitch stabbed me right in the back. The next week I called Urban Girl but it was too late. The editor-in-chief had signed with Dallas, who lured her with the ideas that she had stolen from me.
“Dallas, stop fucking around and tell me what you think Joe is up to.”
She blinked twice. I stared her down.
“Okay. Haven’t you noticed that Joe is always up in Victor’s face or trying to imitate him?”
“No.”
“Well, he does.” Dallas took a sip of her drink. “Joe has a crush on Victor.”
I burst out laughing. “Joe is gay?”
Dallas shrugged. “He must be in the closet. I’ve known him a lot longer than any of you and he has never had a girlfriend. You’ve been so busy mooning over Victor that you haven’t noticed Joe was clocking the brother, too.”
“I have not.”
Dallas waved away my denial. “Girl, please. Half the fun of the Black Pack meetings is watching your face and Joe’s eyes when Victor walks in that door.”
I was embarrassed from head to toe.
“Victor is an attractive man but there is nothing going on between us,” I said stiffly. “You can tell Joe that if he calls you again.”
Dallas nodded without real interest and strolled away in search of juicier gossip.
Finally, it was over.
Paul helped me into my coat. “Come on, I’ll walk you home. I may as well crash at your place anyway. I need to help Richard clean this place up first thing in the morning.”
I threw the back of my hand against my forehead in an Oscar-winning gesture of despair. “Not tonight, Paul. I really need time alone to think.”
He wrapped a scarf around his neck and sucked his teeth. “Girl, you better come on. I’m not trying to stop you from thinking and no way am I riding that subway to Brooklyn tonight if I don’t have to.”
By now we were out on the sidewalk. He put an arm around my shoulder and we started to walk. I was beginning to get pissed off. Paul was not my man. The man I wanted was coming over. Why should I have to lie and scheme to entertain someone in my own home? When we reached the corner, I stopped.
“Paul, you cannot come home with me tonight. I don’t want to talk about it. That’s just the way it is.”
He looked puzzled. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” I stood on my tippy-toes to kiss his cheek.
There was hurt and confusion in his face but he kissed me back and crossed the street toward the subway.
Oh, God. It was like beating up on Bambi.
I practically ran around the corner. The apartment was tidy but I had to change the sheets, the towels, and find something seductive to wear. It had been so long since I’d been to bed with a man—five years and three days at last count—that there were no teddies, lacy stockings, or garters in my wardrobe.
