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Authors: Candice Dow

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BOOK: Tappin' On Thirty
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He frowned at me. “Why?”
“I guess because I wanted more from our reunion.”
He pointed back and forth between us. “
Our
reunion?” I nodded. We laughed and he said, “Like what?”
“I hoped you'd be single, too. I hoped you'd ask me out. I hoped you hadn't loved anyone else either.”
He pulled me to him, his hands cupping my elbows. He looked in my eyes. “Taylor, it took me a long time to get over you. It took me a long time to love someone else. I didn't get into another relationship until I was in Medical School.” He sighed. “I swore I would never love another woman ever again. Then, I grew up. I couldn't hold what you did against all women.”
He continued, “I'm in love with a good girl now.” As if he heard my heart shatter, he said, “Taylor, I will always love you. I always have.”
I hugged him one last time. Our lips were reacquainted. He pushed his tongue into my mouth and passionately swirled it around. The consistent thrashing of his tongue sent chills up my spine. I snatched away and rapidly walked toward the valet. With a bewildered look on his face, he let me go. Neither of us was prepared for what hid behind our liplock. He waved. I stood at the bottom step, watching him disappear into the party.
3
SCOOTER
T
he vestibule of Zion Temple was in full swing when I entered the church. Like two opposing football teams, the congregation transitioned from people entering for 9:30 service and those exiting 7:30. Once I fought my way into the sanctuary, I saw Taylor. She was even sexy wearing her usher uniform. She waved anxiously. I waved back.
She blew a kiss. I nodded. She sent another message using sign language. Her persistence that we master the art of sign language was solely for this purpose. Her graceful hand gestures were more distinct in her white church-lady gloves. She said, “Hello, handsome.”
I responded, “How are you beautiful?”
“Dreaming of you.”
She communicated a poem while we patiently waited for the crowd between us to disperse. Finally, we stood eye to eye. Her sparkly braces beamed into my glasses. We stood speechless, admiring one another as if we hadn't seen each other just hours ago. Spurred by the passion rising between us, she grabbed my hand. “C'mon. Let's go downstairs into the fellowship hall.”
People seemed to make a pathway for us. Taylor pulled me into the kitchen of the fellowship hall and kissed me. Her fearless spontaneity sucked the strength from me. She owned my heart. Fireworks crackled in my pants. Self-conviction forced me to end the connection with a small peck. She smiled.
 
In the midst of the commotion surrounding me, I daydreamed of the young girl who sparked flames in me the way no other woman has been capable of since. I sighed. Boy, did I miss the good ole days when love was so trivial. Until her soft lips touched mine two nights ago, these memories were buried.
Tackling my way into the sanctuary, I sat down ten pews from the front. After reviewing the program, I looked up to find Taylor's mom waving at me. I waved back. She constantly peeped at me throughout the service. Her anxious expression screamed that she needed to talk to me. I mouthed, “I'll see you after church.”
She nodded, but didn't stop turning around every fifty seconds. I'd smile each time our eyes connected. After a while, Toni, Taylor's older sister peeped from the choir stand to see what was causing her mother's distraction. Her huge smile embraced me. I smiled back.
When Bishop said the benediction, Mrs. Jabowski nearly leaped over the crowd to come and hug me. She touched my face delicately. “You look so good, Scooter.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Where are you now?”
“I'm in Connecticut at Yale.”
She shook her head, asking, “What are you doing at Yale?”
“I'm an anesthesiology resident.”
She smiled. “So, you went to Medical School?”
I nodded. Releasing air from her lungs, she squealed, “I'm so proud of you. You know Taylor graduated from GW Law. She works for the Train Workers' Union.” She nodded. “Labor law.”
“I know. We actually had our class reunion on Friday night.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You know Taylor's so secretive.”
That was weird. The Taylor I remember told everything. One of the deacons went over to the speaker. “Please make your way out of the sanctuary so the eleven-thirty people can come in.”
She grabbed my arm. “C'mon. We have to go speak to Bishop.”
She towed me through the crowd. As we traveled through a quiet hallway, leading to the pastor's study, Toni ran up behind us. She sang, “Scooter.”
I hugged her. The Jabowski girls were all slim as toothpicks. Their boney knees replayed in my mind. As I recalled their weekly dances, I chuckled. Taylor would do the choreography and the troop would sing to me. As we rocked back and forth, I laughed. “SWV.”
Mrs. Jabowski stood impatiently while we reminisced. Toni laughed. “You're crazy boy. You still remember that.”
“Yep.” Sweeping my arms left and right, I imitated the Jabowski sisters, “I get so weak in the knees. I can hardly sleep.”
Mrs. Jabowski interrupted our laughter. “Toni, I'm taking him to see your daddy. We have to hurry, before eleven-thirty service starts.”
Toni hugged me again. “Okay, brother.”
That evoked more memories. This was my family. “Okay, sister.”
She waved and turned to walk in the opposite direction. “Keep in contact, Scooter. We miss you.”
“Okay. I will.”
I didn't tell her that I missed them too. When we stood at the pastor's study, my heart thumped. Trying to calm the rumble in my stomach, I took a deep breath. Could I feel the power of the man behind the door? He was the reason I was so committed at such a young age. Either you treated his girls like princesses or you had to step. After thirty seconds or so, the door swung open and the overweight man that I thought was larger than life was even larger up close. I stretched my arms out. “Bishop.”
“Scooter?”
Mrs. Jabowski nodded. “Honey, this is now Dr. Evans.”
He draped his arms around me. The sleeves of his robe hung down my back, as he began to pray silently. He thanked God for me. After telling me how proud and happy he was to see me, he was forced to rush back into the church. Their love revived suppressed emotions.
Bishop left us standing in the hall and Mrs. Jabowski wouldn't stop smiling at me. She asked, “Are you married, Scooter?”
I shook my head. She cackled, “Oh, goodie.”
“I have a girlfriend, though.”
She nodded, but didn't acknowledge what I said. “Did you and Taylor exchange information?”
“Actually, we didn't.”
“Why don't you give her a call while you're here?”
I was skeptical of Taylor's single proclamation, but her mom's anxiousness squashed all doubt. “Actually, I will. Can you give me her number?”
She dug in her purse for a pen. I chuckled and opened my cell phone. “I can just put it in here.”
She rambled off Taylor's home and cell number. I entered the information.
Definitely no man
. What happened? How could Taylor Jabowski still be single?
4
TAYLOR
S
hortly after one in the afternoon, the phone rang. I stretched over to the nightstand to read the caller ID. My jaw nearly dropped to the floor. My eyes stretched in amazement. I pinched myself to confirm that I wasn't dreaming and I took a deep breath. “Hello.”
After a long pause, he said quietly, “Tay-Bae.”
I looked up in the air and mouthed. “Thank you, Lord.” I smiled and replied, “Scooter.”
He chuckled slightly. “I just got your number from your Mom.”
“My mother?”
“She still has the same number. Right?”
Thank God
. I blushed. “You're right. When did you call her? She leaves for church at . . .”
“The same time she went to church ten years ago.”
“So, how did you—”
He cut me off, saying, “I went to nine-thirty service and—”
“You saw her there.”
Surely this wasn't his first visit home. What made him stop by Zion Temple today? I held the phone tightly, awaiting his next sentence. His next breath. Maybe I wasn't losing my mind. Maybe we did share something more than puppy love.
He continued, “You've been on my mind since Friday and I . . .”
I sighed. I prayed. I imagined that he wanted me. He needed me. He missed me.
Then he finished, “I want to hook up before I leave on Tuesday.”
I bit my bottom lip. As much as I wanted this, I didn't know what to say. I stumbled over my thoughts. “Uh, um.” I slowly rolled out, “So when are you trying to hook up?”
“I'm chillin'. I don't have much on my schedule. You tell me.”
Internally, I shouted.
Today
!
Right now
!
Hell, five minutes ago
! But my mouth spoke, “Um, tonight and tomorrow are both good for me.”
My nerves tingled because I felt him smile. “That sounds like a plan. Let's shoot pool for old-time sake.”
My overactive emotions wanted to have candlelight dinner and talk about the future. Instead, I obliged.
“I haven't been in the area for a minute. Where's a good place to go?” he asked.
Hmmm. I pondered. I mumbled, “There's a place in Arundel Mills, Dave and Buster's.”
“Oh yeah, I went there with some of the fellas a while back.”
Confused as to how I should proceed, I asked, “Do you want to meet there, or would you like to come here first?”
He paused. “I'll come through your spot first. We can go together.” He chuckled, obviously recognizing my nervousness. “Is that cool?”
“Yeah, that should be fine.”
“I hope you don't have some dude hiding in the bushes,” he kidded.
Flattered by his insinuation of jealously, I smiled and sucked my teeth. “Boy, please.”
We both laughed, and he finalized the plans. “So, I'll come through around eight. I'll call to get the directions when I'm on my way.”
I stood up to browse through my closet before I said good-bye. “I'm actually not far from my parents.”
“You're still in Bowie.”
“Yeah, right off of 450.”
“That should be easy. I'll call you anyway.”
After I hung a few tops over my arm, I grabbed my infamous Citizens for Humanity Kelly-Cut jeans. They were the best of low-rise, adequately covering my cotton-picking booty. I dumped the tops on my bed and began playing dress up. My final selection was a black shirt that drooped off the shoulder, one of those that could be dressed up or dressed down. With my outfit perfected, I danced anxiously around the room to the music in my head. I plopped down on my bed, bounced up and down, and chanted, “I'm going out with Scooter. Out with Scooter.”
My juvenile behavior forced me to laugh. I contemplated calling Courtney, but I refrained. Instead, I gloated in my own excitement until it was time.
I stepped out of the shower around seven-thirty. My heart thumped with anticipation. When I finally stood at the mirror, polished from head to toe, I began to feel silly.
The bell rang and startled me. My knees buckled. “Oh my God!”
Coaxing my nervous system to simmer down, I meditated.
Just breathe
.
Be cool
.
Don't trip
.
Act normal
. Without further hesitation, I skedaddled down the stairs. My fists were balled tightly to dry the sweat. With my hand clamped on the doorknob, I took one more deep breath. Rhythmically, I exhaled and slowly turned my wrist. I paused. I prayed. The door creaked open. Scooter smiled. I melted. He wore jeans, a polo shirt, and a pair of Pumas.
He opened his arms and stepped toward me. Our bodies met. He wrapped his arms around me, “Are you going to invite me in or what?”
His presence made me speechless. I inhaled and trapped his scent in my lungs. Afraid to let go, I swallowed. How was I going to survive the whole evening? Finally I was resuscitated and exhaled, “C'mon in.”
He ended our embrace and walked in. He paced in short steps around the living room, commenting, “So this is how you're livin'?”
He nodded approvingly. Then, he put his hand out to give me five. “You're doing all right Ms. Jabowski.”
He was calm, composed. I stood bashful and nervous in my own home. To alleviate the awkwardness, I asked if he wanted a drink. He shook his head no. Still, I rushed into the kitchen and mixed my version of the Royal Red Apple Martini. I took a gulp and asked casual questions from afar. “So, have you had a good weekend?”
He responded with one-word answers. “Yeah.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Did you hang out with any of your old friends?”
“No.”
I slipped past him. As I scampered up the steps, I announced, “I have to grab my purse. I'll be back.”
I glanced in the mirror again and sprayed Gucci perfume on my hot spots. I mouthed, “Taylor, work your magic.”
After taking a few more gulps of my drink, I touched up my makeup. Then, I skipped down the stairs and put my glass in the sink. My body was warm, but I tried to remain cool. “Okay. I'm ready.”
He opened the front door and pointed. “You first.”
Indecisively, I stepped toward him, than backward. He chuckled. “Um, I'm trying to remember if I put my keys in my purse. Uh. You go ahead out. I need to set the alarm.”
He smiled and stepped out of the door, closing it behind him. I took another deep breath before setting the alarm. Then, I stepped out of the house and admired him standing patiently at the end of my walkway. When I got closer to him, I noticed his old car. “Oh my God. You still have Shameka.”
Shameka was a 1991 charcoal Honda Civic that Scooter's parents bought him the summer before senior year. Scooter smiled and shook his head. “I can't get rid of Shameka.” He tapped the hood. “This is my baby girl.”
“Yeah, she was always number one.”
He punched my cheek softly, and said, “Whatever. You were number one.”
“Are we driving Shameka?”
“Hell yeah, we're driving Shameka.”
Shameka was spotless. “Did you drive this car from Connecticut?”
He stopped and looked at me as if I'd smoked some weed. “Girl, my father takes care of Shameka. He keeps her clean for when I visit.”
When he started the car, the engine hesitated a little. I raised my eyebrows. It coughed for a few moments. This car didn't sound like it could make it out of my development. The automatic seatbelt rapidly came up and choked me. I laughed. “I forgot that cars used to have these stupid seatbelts.”
We replayed our Shameka stories during the ride. Unconsciously, I rested my hand on top of Scooter's on the gearshift. When I finally realized it, I snatched it back. Before I could pull away, he grabbed my wrist. “Keep it there.”
When we arrived at Dave and Buster's, we immediately ordered drinks. As the circus of people scurried around us, Scooter appeared irritated. He wrapped his arm around me to protect me from the crowd. He whispered in my ear, “You really want to stay here? It's kind of busy.”
“It doesn't matter. I thought you wanted to play pool.”
“I did, but I was having a good time just reminiscing.”
Feeling that our memories would reconnect us, I blushed. “So, do you want to just reminisce?”
“Yeah, let's just chill. We can grab a movie and go back to your place.”
 
As I put the key in my front door, Scooter was so close I could feel his breath on my neck. My stomach felt queasy. I fumbled with the door. Finally, it swung open.
To calm the intensity rising between us, I quickly turned on the television. Scooter sat on the couch and got comfortable. I went into the kitchen and poured two glasses of wine. I gulped some rapidly before I returned to the living room. When I handed Scooter his drink, I sat Indian style in front of the television. After rummaging through my DVD drawer full of chick flicks, I pulled out
Bad Boys II.
“You want to see this?”
“I don't care. It's whatever.”
I popped in the movie and grabbed the DVD remote. After slipping out of my shoes, I sat beside Scooter. He asked, “Remember we thought we were going to be the Huxtables?”
I reminded him, “Well, we both stuck to our plans. We're just not together.”
“You're right.”
I was curious about this female he labeled his girlfriend. Where did he meet her? What did she do for a living? What was her name?
Instead, I concluded not bringing attention to her would make him not think about her. The movie began and the surround sound blasted through the speakers.
He looked around. “I could chill in here. You have it hooked up like a guy.”
“Well, I have a lot of movie nights.” I added, “Alone.”
“Whatever, Tay-Bae. You probably have dudes all over you.”
“It's not the number of dudes on me. It's how many I want on me.”
“Yeah, it is hard out there. That's why I—”
As he was about to acknowledge why he settled down, I cut him off. I laughed hysterically when Martin Lawrence got shot in the behind. “He is so silly.”
His bottom lip sort of dangled as if he really longed to complete his sentence. I jumped onto conversation that would keep him close to me.
“Remember we used to watch
Martin
faithfully?”
“Yeah that was our show.”
I nodded. “Yep, every Thursday.”
“We used to sit on the phone and only talk during commercials.”
“Yep.”
We laughed. Our “remember-when” session continued. Whenever we stumbled onto uncomfortable territory, I would steer us back into our past in hopes to unite us.
After intoxication conquered my senses, I moved closer to him. He turned to face me. And just as he did at the reunion, he opened his mouth and kissed me. I didn't resist. I couldn't resist. I was lost in the moment. My mind fast-forwarded to me walking down the aisle with him. In slow motion, we made love with our mouths and I fantasized about the possibilities with each twirl of the tongue. He backed up and landed a few kisses on my face, then finally on my forehead. He held my face in between his hands. “You asked me a question the other night.”
Still entranced, I nodded.
He said, “No.”
No
? I asked a whole bunch of questions. He smiled and said, “No, I've never loved anyone like I love you.”
Confused as to how I should react to the response that I prayed to God for, I smiled. Then my mind began claiming victory. So, I wrapped my arm around his neck and embraced him tightly. His arms made their way around my lower torso. He lifted my shirt and rubbed my back. “You're still so soft.”
Seductively, I straddled him. He held my waist and slowly pushed it back and forth. I searched his eyes for answers.
He fumbled with my pants. I climbed off of him and pulled my jeans down. He shook his head. “You still got it.”
He ripped his clothes off. “We staying down here?”
As I led the way to my quarters, his nature boldly protruded from him. I was anxious to feel him. We entered my bedroom and he cupped my girls with his hands and massaged them. I fell to my knees. He kneeled in front of me and kissed my breasts. He stretched me out on the floor and asked, “Do you have any condoms?”
BOOK: Tappin' On Thirty
6.76Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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