CHAPTER 1: Getting Acquainted

“Idon’t believe you’re letting this woman move in with you. And, I’m stupid for helping you do it.” Jay handed Dante a box then grabbed one to carry to the dank basement himself.
“Do you know what kind of chaos this is gonna cause in your life? You don’t even know this girl,” Biscuit added as he followed them.

Jay and Biscuit were Dante’s friends. The closest of the five guys who hung together. They were always willing to help each other in a pinch and equally willing to insert themselves into each others’ business as they felt necessary.

During the trip back to the spare bedroom, Biscuit tried to emphasize his point. “Why are you doing this anyway? You’ve got a nice place, a good job, no kids, no drama. Why you wanna mess it up by adding some woman in the mix who you don’t even know?”

“I told you, I’m doing a favor for my boy Rob. I owe him one ah’ight, just leave it alone.”

“Who? Rob? This doesn’t sound right. I don’t know any Rob and I’ve known you since the third grade,” said Jay.

“We ran track together at Morehouse. You met him before.”

“Exactly, and since I don’t remember him, he obviously didn’t leave a lasting impression.” They continued to clean out the room, moving boxes of art supplies, old clothing and fitness equipment.

“Man you got more junk than an old lady,” said Biscuit.

“Are you going to help me or keep complaining?” asked Dante.

“I’m just sayin’ this is a lot of work for some chick you don’t even know,” said Biscuit.

“Okay, that’s the third time you’ve indicated I don’t know her. We’re aware of that fact, sing a different tune?” Dante added obviously annoyed.

“Sing a different tune? Give me a piano and I wouldn’t have to beat the obvious into your head like a damn drum.”

“I don’t mean to jump on the bandwagon, but what kind of friend would ask you to baby-sit a woman you’ve never even met? Ain’t no way I’d ask you to do no shit like that,” said Jay.

“Look, I’m trying to be nice. Why are you so upset about it anyway? This won’t affect you.”

“Like hell it won’t,” Jay snapped back. “After girly moves in, you are gonna feel misery to the tenth power. Then you’ll come complaining to me and I’m not gonna feel like hearing the shit. That woman will be all in your business, getting possessive, keeping tabs on you and everything. You know how they get.”

“Yeah, how you gonna entertain all your freaks when you got a live-in ball and chain?”

Dante snatched the box Biscuit was holding. “Give me some credit. You think I’d let somebody come in here and take over my shit? I know what I’m doing. She’s going to be a tenant, not a girlfriend, not a potential, not a piece of ass or anything like that. She’s paying me rent and she’ll be here tomorrow so chill.”

“I’ll chill but when the shit goes wrong, don’t say we didn’t tell your dumb ass,” warned Biscuit.

“And don’t come cryin’ to me,” said Jay.

“Kiss my ass, man,” Dante replied.

“I don’t like dark meat.”

✸✸✸✸

Dante Weston, gorgeous, twenty-eight and fine as shit. I mean he is “foine.” When I say fine I’m talking, like the first time you saw Denzel, fine. Like in Lady Sings the Blues when Billie Dee appeared from the darkness holding a one hundred dollar bill for Diana Ross, “You want my arm to fall off?” that kind of fine.

Skin: creamy milk chocolate brown with a dimple on one cheek, the right cheek. Hair: short and jet-black with a hint of curl. His hair looks as if he spends all of his money on hair dye; but he doesn’t. He isn’t vain like that. Instead, he uses his charm coupled with his beautiful eyes to get him many-a woman. His eyes are wide near the part that is closest to the nose and get thinner as they stretch across his face, sort of like Native American eyes. Dark and deep with extra long eye lashes; they are extremely dangerous, known to hypnotize the most talented sorceress. Topping the cake like perfectly spread butter cream icing are his puffy lips, not big, just puffy enough to get a good grip with your teeth.

At about six foot-one, his well built frame holds muscle in the right places, not too much, and not an ounce of fat. His chest and back are broad and his waist is tapered with the perfect six-pack abs.

Dante lived alone in a ranch style home in Philadelphia until he agreed to help a friend of a friend. He’d known Rob for a long time having gone to Morehouse together where they both ran track. Dante ran the four hundred-meter hurdles; Rob ran the two hundred meter sprint.

Track. It was a good sport for him. It provided the perfect metaphor for his relationships with women. Keep your head up, stay in your lane, and don’t get spooked by the hurdles.

Leslie, Rob’s childhood friend, was attending Temple University to get her master’s degree in occupational therapy. She had a deal with her father. If she received an academic scholarship to undergrad he would pay for her graduate school tuition. The only catch, she would have to pay for her room and board. A procrastinator, Leslie missed the deadline for applications to stay in the dorms. She also missed the opportunity to find affordable apartments and nearby housing. She was in dire straits being unfamiliar with the city of Philadelphia and living far from the campus was not an option.

When Rob told her one of his friends might be able to help, she was willing to take the chance. Besides, she didn’t have much of a choice. She refused to look like a failure to her father.

Despite her tendency toward procrastination, Leslie knows exactly what she wants and always goes after her desires. Bright, poised with confidence, high self-esteem, and extreme intelligence, she is the type of woman who can do anything she puts her mind to. Her only weakness: that damn baggage from her past relationship. If she could get rid of that, her love life might be as accomplished as her academic life.

✸✸✸✸

When Dante first saw her, his energy gravitated toward her assertive nature. Not only did he think she was beautiful, he noticed her subtle take-charge attitude. She wasn’t too pushy, just wanted things to get done in a particular fashion. He could tell just from the two hours it took her to move in, she was a fireball. His thought: things could get interesting.

As for her physical beauty, he was a deer in the headlights, captivated by her likeness to Lena Horne, including perfect teeth and a bright inviting smile. He loved her long hair. And when she bent over, he had the typical male thought: Damn, look at that ass. Straight from the Motherland.

She looked like an athlete, exerting physical strength he’d never seen a woman possess. He admired the way she wasn’t afraid to break a nail or get her hair messed up from lifting and hauling. At first, he thought he’d try to pursue her in due time. But he then remembered she was a friend of a friend and decided to refrain, not wanting to cause any problems. Establishing a friendship was more likely the course he should take.

“Girl, he is fine as shit. You gonna get with him aren’t you?” Leslie’s best friend Alex asked. She moved to Philly after college and got a job in her field of nursing. Alex and Leslie have been friends since the eighth grade. They shared shoes, make-up, accessories, a toothbrush one time on a field trip, heartbreaks, letdowns and the good times. She remembered all of the men in Leslie’s life and could always decipher when Leslie liked someone.

“You like him don’t you?”

“Will you shut up,” Leslie said as they carried boxes together.

“Uh-huh, I know you like him. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I don’t like anybody; I don’t even know the man.”

“That’s why it’s so exciting. It’s all right, girl. Why shouldn’t you try to get your swerve on? It’s nineteen-ninety; you grown.”

“Be quiet, Alex.”

They continued in and out of the house unloading Leslie’s stuff when Alex reflected, “I don’t know though, do you think this is safe? I mean, you don’t even know this guy. What if he’s some crazy maniac or something?”

Leslie didn’t seem concerned. “Well I look at it like this; it’s the same as sharing a room in a dorm with someone I don’t know. That person could be a crazy fool, too.”

“Yeah but most likely that person would be a woman; you can take a woman. And, there’s at least some security in the dorm. There’s nothing here. You gonna live in this man’s house? Now that I think about it, that’s crazy.”

Dante walked by and noticed the two women talking. “You ladies okay?” he asked.

In awe Alex replied, “Yes, we’re fine.” Under her breath she added, “And so are you.” She whispered to Leslie, “I still don’t know about this.”

“It’ll be all right.”

“All I know is you’d better not let your father find out.” Alex gave her the ‘you know, the hell, I’m right’ look.

Leslie hadn’t thought of that. What if her father found out? He didn’t get involved with her personal relationships; however, he was serious about her education and equally serious about personal responsibility. This move would not resonate well with him.

His anger wouldn’t be about her living with a man necessarily, although that would be his secondary objection. He would be upset that she procrastinated, thus putting herself in the current position.

“I’m not worried about that.”

“Whatever you say.”

Remembering her mother, Leslie gave Alex a smile from the heart. “My mother came to me in a dream again. You know every time that happens things work out for the best.”

Alex softened, “Like I said, whatever you say.” Her eyes fixated themselves on the butts of the guys helping with the move.

“Get out their asses, ya ho,” Leslie scolded.

“I can look. Anyway, it just occurred to me, at least if you get attacked it’ll be by somebody fine.” Alex put her finger on her chin. “That might not be all that bad.” She stared at the guys walking by again. “Shee-it, attack me.”

“You are really sick you know that? I wish you would make up your mind. First he’s fine and everything is kosher, then, all of a sudden, he’s some crazy maniac. Now it’s all right to be attacked by someone as long as that someone looks good. You’re stupid. Help me with this box; it’s kinda heavy.”

As the girls tried to lift the box, Dante stepped up behind Leslie, grabbed it from her hands and brushed up against her with the stroke of a feather. She felt his well-developed left biceps and was halted by a whiff of his cologne.

“Uhhh,” she mouthed to Alex, “he smells sooo good.”

Alex mouthed back, “You like him.”

Leslie rolled her eyes.

Dante said walking away, “Pretty ladies shouldn’t be doing such labor when there are men around.”

“Y’all are never around. That’s the problem,” Alex blurted.

An unfamiliar voice added its two cents. “We’re here now gorgeous.” Biscuit had arrived.
His light skin, reddish brown hair and hazel eyes did not help him win the pretty boy contest. Nothing could. He wasn’t ugly. He’d just lose any contest judged on appearance because of his pip-squeak, puny build. At only about five-five, he seemed to be the group mascot out of the five guys.

As one of the best auto mechanics in town, Biscuit was in the process of opening his own garage. His height also made him the butt of many jokes with the guys. They call him troll boy implying his short stature makes it unnecessary to put cars on a lift. “You can just walk underneath,” Jay would mock.

Biscuit also loves big women. He calls it “thick-momma love.” The moment he saw Alex he appreciated her thick build. She isn’t real fat or obese, just a little thick. Biscuit’s manhood enjoys that.

Not at all impressed by Biscuit’s intrusion, Alex chose to offer her rebuttal. “Hmm,” she said, “and late as usual.”

Biscuit replied, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t get here sooner ‘cause I had to work. Do you forgive me?”

“Man, I don’t even know you,” she barked in her normal feisty tone.

Dante approached and saw Biscuit talking to the ladies. “Why are you here?”

“I told you I was coming, playa.” He extended his hand for the typical black man handshake complete with the tap on the back. “I was just explaining to the lovely ladies that I had to work late. This dude had serious issues with his ride that took me all day to deal with. But I got it, cousin.”

“Oh, how rude of me.” Dante interrupted, “Let me introduce you to the ladies.”

As the introductions traveled, Alex still wasn’t impressed. “So, are you supposed to be some kind of mechanic or something?”

“Yes ma’am and I’ll have my own garage soon.”

“Humph, yeah right.” Alex turned to Leslie. “He ain’t no damn mechanic, he don’t even smell like gas. And look at his fingernails, they ain’t even oily. He’s probably works at Lube Works waving in the cars.” Alex imitated the action, “Straight in, keep your wheel straight.” She laughed out loud.

“Stop being impolite,” Leslie addressed Biscuit. “Don’t pay her any attention.”

“It’s all right. She got jokes; I like that. Alex, if you ever want me to look at your car, assuming you have one, it would be my pleasure.”

“And you can ass-sume you’ll be the last one I call with your corny ass.” She walked away carrying a bunch of blankets secretly thinking Biscuit was a cute little guy. He wasn’t gorgeous or anything, kind of ordinary, but likeable and endearing in his own little way. Just like a mascot.

The helpers finished putting the things in the house, which gave Alex and Leslie more time to talk. Of course Alex wanted to continue to go on and on about Dante’s physical beauty. She was insistent upon Leslie dating him.

“If you like him so much and think he’s all that, then you get with him.”

“I already got a man.”

“If you call him that.”

“This ain’t about me.”

“It ain’t about me either. I don’t wanna have anything to do with him.”

Pretty boy, was the first thing Leslie thought to herself when she saw him. Even though most pretty boys, in her mind, were light skinned, she made Dante qualify, categorizing him as a chocolate pretty boy. Bottom line: she wasn’t impressed.

Yeah, he was fine but she’d run into his type a time or two. They were always more trouble than they were worth: too conceited, too arrogant, too flamboyant or too stupid. Bluntly, too much trouble. Plus, they always wanted one thing only, and she definitely was not getting involved with that kind of relationship again. She’d had her heart crushed a few years ago and she hadn’t checked the baggage she carried from it.

She had been all too familiar with his kind, the kind that would tell you one thing one day and something completely different the next. As far as she was concerned, Dante was completely untrustworthy, except if it were convenient for her, like living in his house while she earned her master’s degree. Besides, her primary commitment was to school, not getting wrapped in a relationship.

“You say you don’t want anything to do with him now, but we’ll see.” Alex looked at her watch. “Damn, I gotta go. I’m gonna be late for work.” She gave Leslie a kiss on the cheek. “Glad we’re in the same city again girl can’t wait to hang out. I’ll call you later.”

She got up to leave with Biscuit’s eye tracing her every step. “Can we hang out too? I got a phone, I can call you.” As Biscuit followed Alex out the door, her objections echoed through the neighborhood.

“Man if you don’t get away from me.”

Dante laughed as he locked the door.

“Won’t he be back?” Leslie asked.

“He’s not coming back. He’s on a mission. Ya think he has a chance?”

“Not at all,” Leslie said.

“Me either.”

They shared a small chuckle. “Come on,” he ordered, “let me show you around.”

She loved his home and was even impressed. There were no clothes thrown all over the place, no dishes flowing over in the sink and no junk. Everything was neat, clean and comfortable.

In the living room, she noticed his dark brown leather sofa against the wall by the picture window. The window was decorated with fancy, cherry-wood blinds and a simple, yet elegant, valance. Opposite the sofa was an entertainment center that replaced the entire wall. Of course it housed the latest in audio-visual technology. She did expect to see that. God forbid you catch a man without a television and all of its cohorts, she thought. His side tables were gorgeous. They were cherry wood, with silver accents along the front and sides, and a drawer in the middle.

There were three bedrooms, one resembling an art studio/office, two full bathrooms and a nice dinette set in the eat-in kitchen. She couldn’t get over how spotless the place was, including the kitchen and the bathrooms. The house, also adorned with artwork and sculptures, was so well maintained and decorated she thought he must be gay.

“Your house is fabulous. I love your artwork,” she said as she took another look around.
He chuckled, “You thought I’d be a slob didn’t you?”

She answered like a bashful child, “Yeah, but it’s beautiful.”

“Thank you.” He sat on the couch and motioned for her to join him. “Have a seat and tell me a little about yourself.” When submitting his request, Dante had no idea what he was in for. As they sat, Leslie opened the almanac of her life.

She began with her age, twenty-four. She then moved to her likes and dislikes, the things that infuriated her, and her reason for attending Temple University. She spoke of always wanting to work for the Red Cross’ relief efforts program and continued on and on about gun control, teen pregnancy and world peace.

At first, Dante thought, is she ever gonna shut up? Then he looked into her compassionate eyes and got a sense of her humanitarian spirit. She was a pretty face with an assertive personality; but the compassion and strength he felt engulfed her physical characteristics. He realized they had more in common than he’d originally thought. Her persona and intellect sparked his interest.

After he was able to squeeze in a comment or two, he noticed her humanitarian side had a cohort named politics 101. Their conversation covered the political spectrum: religion in politics, democrats, republicans, welfare, equal rights, and affirmative action. You name it; they discussed it. At that moment, he recognized her as the kind of woman he could really sink his teeth into, literally.

He took notice of the chemistry between them. As the conversation continued, various thoughts parked themselves in his head. Hmmm, this might not be so bad after all. She seems nice, intelligent, funny, mature and confident. I might have to look into this a little further. It could get interesting. But just interesting, I don’t need a girlfriend.

At the same time, Leslie was oblivious to any attraction or remote chemistry. She was just glad to have someone to talk to who would challenge her intellect. Her other friends, except Alex, were not interested in world affairs, politics or anything of that nature. They were too busy landing husbands or having babies. She found it refreshing to talk to Dante about those things and enjoyed getting a male perspective. Plus she liked to talk and, so far, he was willing to listen.

The next morning Leslie stumbled to the kitchen to get some breakfast. Dante was already up reading the newspaper and drinking his morning cup of coffee. After they exchanged blank good mornings, he did what Leslie hated most; asked her a bunch of questions first thing. Did you sleep well? Is the bed okay? Do you have class this morning?

She gave him short blunt yeses.

He noticed she wasn’t thrilled with his inquisition. “You must not be a morning person.”

She gave him half a smile and a look that read ‘no shit’. “What time do you usually get home from work anyway?” She poured some orange juice and was preparing to make toast.
Still reading his paper he asked, “Aren’t you even a little bit curious about what I do for a living?”

“Oh yeah, what do you do?”

“I’m the creative development manager for an advertising agency.”

“Is that right?” Leslie’s interest was sparked because her mother was an artist who started a successful advertising agency along with her father. “My father is in advertising.”

Still involved with his paper Dante replied, “Is that so?”

“Yeah.” She picked up on his lack of interest. “He has his own agency.”

“Hmm,” he said still reading.

“So when do you get home?”

“For a person who doesn’t like mornings you sure are pretty talkative. You keeping tabs on me already and I haven’t even asked you to marry me yet.”

Leslie looked embarrassed and apologized for being nosey.

“No problem sweetie. I was just kidding. I usually leave here by eight and get to work by eight-thirty. I’m home between five and five-thirty. When does your class start?”

“The first one starts at nine then I have two other classes later,” she added.

Dante kept reading his paper.

“I noticed you need a few things like milk, ketchup, butter and bread. I was thinking we could put a list on the fridge to jot down the things that are needed. I pass the market on the way home from class. I can pick the stuff up if you want, and we can split the bill.”
He folded the newspaper and drank the rest of his coffee. “Sounds good to me.” He got up, took some money from his wallet, and gave it to her. “I gotta go. Get what you need from the store. Uh, and bring back some vanilla ice cream, please.”

He took his fine ass out the door and went to work.

“That was pleasant,” Leslie reflected. It was only the first day she’d spent in his house but he seemed thoughtful and kind. Her assessment of him developed overnight because he made her feel relaxed and comfortable. Comfortable like that favorite pair of worn out slippers you refuse to throw out. Relaxed, like lying on a hammock on a quiet spring day with a delicate breeze and the smell of honeysuckle traveling up your nostrils. She was proud of her decision and thought Dante might have some redeeming qualities after all.