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I laughed because I knew she was right.
“So what do you plan to see first?”
“The Eiffel Tower, of course, but I’m really excited about seeing the Montmartre and Montparrase districts.”
“That’s where all those jazz singers did their thing, right?”
“Yeah, those neighborhoods were the Jazz Age in Paris.”
“You’ll probably find nothing there.” I said.
“Why do you say that?”
“You’ll probably look just like those white folks that tour Harlem on buses every weekend, looking for a way of life that has vanished.”
We both had a hearty laugh. “I don’t think so, Saundra.”
“What I can’t believe is their lack of shame as they ride through like they’re on safari. We went shopping up there a few months ago and I couldn’t believe it. Harlem has once again become some kind of romanticized hub for a new generation of prima-tivists.” I stopped in mid-rant. “Asha, some guy keeps staring over here every time his date isn’t looking.”
She swiveled her head around and then giggled. “It’s Brent. Come with me to the ladies’ room so I can get a look at his wife.”
I didn’t want any part of this. “What makes you think that the woman is his wife?”
Asha insisted.
We walked slowly toward their table and Asha stopped, looking surprised. He was with a Polynesian-looking woman who looked like she could be a model.
“Hi, Brent! How are you?” Asha said cheerfully.
Brent’s eyes got extraterrestrial in size. “Hey, Asha!”
She actually extended her hand to the woman. “Hi, I’m Asha. This is my sister Saundra.”
She shook our hands and smiled uneasily. “I’m Lula.”
To say I was uncomfortable would be a huge understatement.
“Nice to meet you Lula. Well, I’ll see you later, Brent. You enjoy the rest of your meal.”
We turned around and walked at a normal pace towards the ladies’ room. When we got into the bathroom we checked all the stalls to make sure no one heard us.
“I can’t believe it,” Asha said, pacing back and forth. “That woman is not his wife.”
“Surely you didn’t think you were the only one.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The fact that you’re upset about whoever that woman is.” She waved a hand impatiently. “I couldn’t care less who Brent sleeps with. Didn’t you notice her ears? He gave that girl the same earrings except hers are ruby. Why did I get the emeralds and she got the rubies?”
“Perhaps because that really is his wife,” I replied sarcastically.
We collapsed against each other laughing at her greed.
“No, Saundra. His wife is white and Hawaiian Tropic out there certainly isn’t that.”
We left the sanctuary and returned to our table.
When our waiter came back with our drinks we noticed Brent and Hawaiian Tropic leaving in a hurry. A few seconds later the hostess came over to Asha and shoved a note in her hand.
