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I stop on the corner and dial Rachel. I’m not in the mood to be polite. I’m desperate to fix this mess or settle it once and for all. The phone rings four times before I hear a familiar voice.
“Yo, bro, what’s up?”
I pull the phone from my ear and look down at the screen, positive I just dialed Rachel. I stare at it in confusion for a second before I remember last night. “Justin?”
“Yeah, why you calling my woman before ten in the morning?”
“Your woman?”
I hear him laugh. “Dude, you were holding out on me before. Why’d you never mention Rachel?” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “She’s a bombshell, a total hottie.”
“Bombshell? Is it 1952, and I forgot?” I shake my head, needing to end this ridiculous conversation. “Hey, I need to speak with her. Is she awake?”
“She’s awake all right, but she’s indisposed right now.”
“Okay, seriously, I don’t want to hear about your sexual exploits. Ask her if I can get Charlie’s number. It’s important.”
“Oooohhhh. I see. Charlie boy has fallen for girl Charlie. A girl who shares his name— it’s kind of narcissistic, don’t you think?”
“The difference between you and me, my friend, is I don’t like her for her name, but because of who she is. You would go after a girl Justin in a heartbeat, but it’d be attached to a very butch girl and wouldn’t be that appealing.”
“True dat.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m too busy to get sucked into some rapper’s lingo with you right now. Get me Charlie’s number. Her address would be even better.”
“So what you’re saying is you will speak the rapper’s delight another time if I get you her address?”
Now, I laugh. “Yeah. Sure, homeboy.”
He turns away from the receiver and calls, “Hey, sexy! Charlie, your friend . . . what’s her address?” I hear voices in the background but can’t understand what they’re saying. “Yep, for Charlie.” I hear her say something before he comes back on the line. “She knew it was just a matter of time and wishes you luck.”
“Great,” I reply sarcastically. He gives me the address, and I hop in a cab.
Charlie doesn’t live that far from me, which makes me happier than it should. I pay the driver and stand in front of her building. It’s small, five stories, but quaint and old. I like it because it has history and personality in its architecture.
Justin got the door code from Rachel before we hung up. Rachel is very trusting or else very supportive of me. Either way, I appreciate it because I’d rather be rejected face-to-face than through an impersonal intercom system. I jog up four flights, taking the stairs by two, and walk down the hall to apartment 4A. With my hand in the air ready to knock, I take a quick breath, then tap the wood door with firm knuckles.
Waiting.
Waiting is torture. I hear light footsteps and see the other side of the peephole go black before one, two, three, four locks, and a chain are opened.
I know I’ve fallen hard for the woman when everything slows as if in a movie. The door swings open, blowing her red hair delicately from her shoulders as her face shows her surprise.
Chapter 14
Charlie B
“What’s your last name?” he asks, standing just outside my door. He’s out of breath and intense as if everything in the world depends on my answer.
His handsome face makes me breathless as his eyes penetrate my soul.
“Barrow,” I say before I have a chance to stop myself. I don’t mind telling him my name. It’s not a big secret or anything. It’s more that I still don’t understand why he’s here, much less how he knows where I live and how he got into the building.
“Barrow? As in wheel?”
It’s a typical reaction. “Yes, Barrow is my last name. It’s Scottish.”
Charlie is still staring at me, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing or what he’s expecting from me.
I shift to the side and make an offer. “Would you like to come in?”
This was my second mistake today, and it’s only ten fifteen. My first mistake was that I should have stayed to see how this played out, but I don’t deal with rejection well. Jim hurt me enough. I’m not ready for more pain.
“Yes, I’d like that very much.”
I close the door behind him, relocking one of the deadbolts, and stand there feeling awkward.
He looks around my small apartment, then turns back toward me. “I don’t have your number either.”
“You apparently have my address.”
“About that—”
“I have a feeling that Rachel is behind this.” I walk away, waving my hand in the air carelessly.
“She wished me luck.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
He watches as I walk into the kitchenette area. I can see him standing there staring, so I ask, “Coffee or orange juice?”
