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单身黑人女郎

单身黑人女郎

Single Black Female


Bby Maryann Reid
Chapter One
My big, black dog, Pinot Noir, just recovered from kidney problems. He's high maintenance, but was a
lot easier to take care of than a relationship. My mother gave him to me before I left Houston to "protect" me in my new home. He loved licking on my arms, which I think he mistakes for chocolate candy. He's the only man in my life, but hopefully not for long. As I played with him in the kitchen, my phone rang.
"This is City Town magazine confirming your ad," said the monotone voice on the other end. My stomach turned as I thought about what I was doing.
"Yes, I'm paying by credit card," I said as I gave the man my card number. I heard him tapping away at his computer as he transmitted my request. He read the ad back to me, emotionless, like he's seen the best and the worst of the ads come and go.
"Single Black Female, 26, new to NYC. Petite, but curvy, looking for Single Male over 6 feet. Must like books, music, and Pinot Noir. Must be between 29-36, and ambitious," he read off to me.
I spent the next few minutes on the phone finding out how to pick up and manage my messages. The ad was going to hit the stands in the morning and CityTown was one of the city's major glossies, second to New York magazine.
"Good luck," he said and hung up. I was left alone to reep whatever the ad was to bring. Pinot Noir was getting a fidgety, which signaled that he sensed my uneasiness.
It was my first time doing this, but I had tried the mundane and expected things to do for a singleton. Since being in New York, I had met no one new in almost a year! SugarSips was a local bar on 14th street, just a few blocks from my house. I had managed to get a part time job referral, a hand in a Powerball pool, and a few free drinks courtesy of the bartender, Sheila. Everything, but a date. Sheila said that it could be my air of confidence or intellectual-smart-independent-but-want-to-be-your-little-girl appeal that was confusing men.
The next week, I had came in with fishnet stockings, calf high boots, miniskirt, and off the shoulder blouse. She complained that my cool-laid-back-kid rock-chick look may have been scaring off the men. That Friday, I glided in with a dress a la Sex and the City, and she said I looked great. But then, I had already become "a regular" and who hadn't talked to me by then just won't.
Maddie, my close friend from grad school, had suggested that maybe I was trying too hard. We both then started to do things together on the weekend like going to museums, readings, and lectures. Then Pinot Noir got sick, and I started a new job, which basically took all the free time I had. Placing the ad was something I did on my own. The thought of meeting a stranger whom I had never seen before was a thrill. The city's most eligible, and hopefully, sane men were calling me. Instead of me calling them (telepathically, of course).
The next morning on my way to work, I made a promise that I would not check my ad mailbox until noon. Maybe lunch time, would be good to start returning calls. Being able to hold my curiosity down till 5 p.m. required too much effort. Paula, my boss, kept coming by my desk every 10 minutes with a new document to copy. It was only 10 a.m., and I had probably copied enough to put Kinko's out of business.
"How was your weekend," Paula asked while dropping a 75-page document in my bin.
"It was nice; too short," I said, not looking away from my computer screen.
The standard answer for the rhetorical question. Maybe she should have asked me that when she saw me in the bagel store over an hour ago. "Monday blues? Don't worry. You'll soon be singing Thank God It's Friday."With that she walked away. I thought about what she said. Only if life were so simple with your emotions dictated by the day of the week. My emotions were only dictated by the amount of my check, and the man in my life (whenever I get one).
10:27 a.m. — I decided to take the long way back to my desk from the copier. It seemed like everytime I passed Paula's office, I'd remind her of something she needed. As soon as I reached my desk, Paula was standing there waiting.
"I was just going to ask Donna if she knew where you were," she said with a forced grin. "I'm running to a meeting upstairs, but I need these done for the planning meeting this afternoon." She handed me a stack of pictures of photos to send to the printer. Unfortunately, everyone required its own envelope, separate request with details, and order form.
The time would easily pass as I rummaged through the files and printed up order forms. I couldn't quite zone out and concentrate on my monotonous task, as I wanted to. Steve, Paula's boss, kept eyeing me through the glass door of his office while I talked on the phone. Maddie called asking about Pinot Noir's health. Supposedly, she had found this really popular, but expensive veterinarian on the Upper West Side. But Pinot Noir was particular about who put their hands on him. He was already used to Ms. Seavers, on 9th Street.
When I hung up with Maddie it was nearly noon. Steve had already left for lunch, which meant everyone else was leaving after him. Passing by the crowded elevator, I found an empty conference room. To make the call from my desk would have meant too many interruptions from Paula's busy line.
My heart felt like it was stuck n my throat. I was so nervous. What if I hadn't received any calls? Or calls from psychos? Or hang-ups? But when I dialed in I had nearly 35 messages! The ink on the ad was still wet, which hopefully, meant more calls. I took out my notepad and took down the info of those that sounded the most interesting.
Message #342 Steve, an investment banker from London, in town for a few days. (Seems like he may have mistaken my ad for an escort service).
Message #345 — Manuel, an entrepreneur, recently divorced and prefers Cabernet Sauvignon. (I think his only reason for calling was to defend the name of his favorite wine).
Message #355 — Fabian, a Swedish guy, looking for a green card.
A few of the messages were weird with people asking for their long lost sister or mother.
An hour had almost passed and I had a list of 15 names. I managed to jot down a few catchy phrases and vital info they left on the machine. But two names stuck out in my mind to call ASAP — Larry and Xavier.
I ordered a chicken Caesar salad and fries from the deli downstairs. I munched on my salad as I let my imagination run. This was the best feeling about placing an ad. The not-knowing feeling. The wondering. The expectations. But no expectations here. They always seemed to ruin my relationships. I don't even expect any of the men I call to be straight, single, healthy or even attractive. No expectations, no expectations ...
Paula came back from her "meeting" in a different mood. She seemed relaxed, happy and her face was glowing. I didn't quite know what it was, until I saw most of the assistants babbling in front of her office. There were loud laughs, squeals, and even Steve was in there. Paula had become engaged. Great! Another daily reminder of my singleton life. Hopefully things were about to change for me.
Chapter Two
When I got home, I told Maddie that I had placed an ad in CityTown. It was no fun if I had no one to share my excitement with.
"So I narrowed it down to two. I figure if any men call after tomorrow, they are not worth my time. They're the types that probably won't call the day after sex," I said to Maddie, who was home alone, dateless. However, she choose to get her M.R.S. degree the old fashioned way.
"You are definitely sick!" Maddie shrieked. I could sense a tad bit of resentment in her voice. "Placing an ad is so desperate and needy. I don't have two degrees to turn around and plead for a man. If they don't want me or notice me, it's their damn loss," she boasted.
"I see. But I figured what do I have to lose? The worst thing that could happen is I go back to how things are now. Which I'm already accustomed to. The best thing is I get married! Now, I'm willing to throw a little caution to the wind for the last one." I paused to get Pinot Noir his favorite bottled water. "Besides, we are under 30, any mistakes we make now can be dismissed as youthful indiscretions."
Maddie and I went back and forth for the next half hour debating the politics of placing the ad. She was convinced I had wasted $55. Money I could have used to buy myself — and her — drinks at SugarSips.
Maddie could be so cynical sometimes, especially when it came to men. The older we became, the less we had in common. Perhaps she was afraid that if I found someone, she would really be left alone. She was the only friend I had in the city. We met at SugarSips when she gave me the lead to the job I have now. When I finally hung up with her, I regretted telling her.
I called Xavier, but he couldn't remember which ad I was from. He was a definite ad player. He must have answered several at a time. Xavier just seemed too desperate for my taste.
The next one was Larry James. He was a systems analyst working for PaineWebber in their NJ and Manhattan offices. He was an Aries and just turned 32. No kids. He loved Pinot Noir, too, and often visited the vineyards of Hudson Valley on Long Island.
"Well, I know this is one of the most overused questions in dating, but please keep in mind the medium that brought us together," I asked after he read me his file. We'd been on the phone for almost 12 minutes, and I was still interested. Which for me, was a good sign.
He gave a modest laugh. "I'm new to this, too. I never answered an ad until I saw yours." He waited for me to continue.
"What do you do for fun? Like on the weekends?" I asked, hoping not to sound like I was interviewing him for a job.
"Besides the vineyards, I do enjoy reading, going to dinner. Sometimes, just staying in and watching The Learning or Discovery Channels," he said.
So far he sounded stable, his voice was smooth and deep. I already had a picture of him in my mind. But, no expectations.
We talked about our favorite shows on TLC and how much we loved watching the Human Animal. Especially the episodes about mating.
I gave him a physical description of myself and he did the same. Larry promised to email me his picture once we hung up. I told him he'd have to wait to see me. It felt good to be in control for a change.
Before I could even rest the phone down, I had mail. Looking busy, like I was searching for a file, I secretly opened up his photo at my desk. Paula walked past as soon as I did, but she didn't pay me any mind. Ever since she's become engaged, she has been giving me a break.
The file was too large and took forever to open. Each line of the photo unfolded slowly. First, I saw only clouds, then a tall building, then trees, then a head, eyebrows.
After three and a half minutes, the photo downloads with a full picture of him. I managed to shrink the window, in case anyone was over my shoulder. He was dressed conservatively, in a business suit standing outside a hotel. It looked like he was at a conference. The fact that he was towering over some of the others in the picture, proved his assertion that he was over 6 feet. Looked more like 6'2" to be exact. His skin was a light brown, almost the color of the inside of an almond. He had a slim, lanky built, like a basketball player. And his smile was confined to only a slight stretch of the muscles around his mouth, instead of the grins and laughs of the others in the group.
Larry had a pleasant but serious air about him. For a moment, I thought about how a nice husband he would make. At least, how he fit the picture of what a husband would look like. I called him back. We set up to meet after work at Laradou, a wine and cheese bar downtown. It was his idea.
When I hung up, a surge of energy zigzagged through my body. I fingered through my inbox and pulled up stacks of papers with little yellow notes stuck to them. "File in Photo" "File in Bios" "File in Archives," "100 copies", and the notes went on. These were all things that I was a few days behind on. But I just went through each one, and did it. I even stapled the last stack of copies for Paula.
Usually, I'd wait till she asked me to do it. I was feeling good, almost revived. I thought about calling Maddie, but I didn't.
Paula had left work early, so I did, too. I needed to give myself time just in case I'd get lost on my way to meeting Larry. The 4 train was about the only train I used, and I walked everywhere else. But this time, I had to take the F to 2nd street. When I got off, the cold November breeze hit me.
My hair was styled loosely, and the wind was having its way with it. The streets weren't as crowded as they were uptown and the ringing of a bell in the distance made my mind wander. Thoughts of how this ad thing would end up kept running through my mind. I had forgotten to check my other messages, but promised myself I would first thing in the morning.
Larry was standing in front of Laradou. I could see him from across the street holding a briefcase. All of a sudden I felt embarrassed. I could turn back right now or walk past him and he'd have no idea it was me. But the adventurer in me held my hand across the street. He looked exactly as he did in the picture, wearing a gray suit with dark blue shirt and dark grey tie. The same slight smile was across his mouth as I smiled and we introduced ourselves.
He simply nodded his bald head and we shook hands. As we walked inside, we were covered by the quaint decor. It was lit my candlelight, which provided just the right amount of cover for those of us who wanted privacy. The hostess led us to a table, and Larry stepped to the side and pulled out my chair.
We both studied our menus quietly, with the expected awkwardness still in the air. Neither of us wanted to say the wrong thing.
Looking up from my menu, I asked, "Do you have any preference for cheese? There's every nationality on that cheese board."
"Actually, I'm a picky eater. I stick to cheddar, and I like my parmesan only on a hero with chicken." He started to laugh. I guess he thought it was a joke. I smiled, just to be polite.
"Cheddar cheese is always good with wine. However, Tetilla or La Peral cheese are my favorite Spanish cheeses. Really hard to find in the city." I hoped I wasn't sounding like a show off.
He seemed interested, but I still was looking for some kind of comment on what he thought about me since he has never seen me before!
"I don't think I've ever had La Peral. That name is a little too fancy for a cheese," he said plainly. He wasn't even witty or sarcastic. He just sat there sitting straight up in his chair.
I explained to him that La Peral is a soft cheese that tastes much like brie, which he was more familiar with. Eating it with radishes or wine is best way to wash it down.
Finally he said, "Why would a gorgeous woman like you need an ad?." His eyes traced the curve of my breasts under my sweater.
The question was expected. I was hoping for something a little more witty. But like I said, no expectations.
"Why would a single, professional, attractive man need to answer an ad?" My question made him sit up and straighten his tie. Instead of loosening it, he tightened it. He really needed a drink.
We talked about how hard it was to work and meet someone in the city. Sometimes the conventional way can get a little daunting. All the parties, all the places to go, all the choices were too much. We agreed there needed to be a more concrete, direct way for people to hook up. Just reading ads and picking what you want seemed like the right thing to do.
Things really hit the mark when we started talking about wine. Larry told me about his love/hate relationship with American wines but how impressed he was with the vastness of the vineyards in Napa. I told him about my affair with Porto wines and Pinot Noir. We spent more time critiquing the wines we were drinking than we did drinking! Larry and I must have ordered at least five different varieties of reds. No whites, for us. Real wine lovers drink red.
The evening started slow, but ended nice, stable and friendly. Larry was a definitive "buppie", who lived alone, always carried his voter registration card, and very cautious in everything he did and said.
Larry drove me home and waited until I got inside. He didn't try to kiss me, but I could tell by the way his eyes glazed over when he looked at me that he liked what he saw. I did, too. We promised to meet up again for the weekend.
When I got in, Pinot Noir rushed me. I had forgotten to leave his food out. He wouldn't let me be until I fixed him his bowl. I put a little gourmet doggie biscuit near his bowl as a sign to show I was sorry for making him wait. Last week, we both went to the Gourmet Dog, where they sold fresh baked goods especially for dogs. We stocked up on his favorite cookies and treats. Now that was one thing I couldn't find in Houston!
After I kicked off my heels, I dialed my ad mailbox. I could be fine with Larry, but I couldn't help but think who else was on the other line. Maybe, there were more Larrys out there. Hopefully, with a few more watts in them.
I scribbled down some more names in my red binder. The one with the yellow flowers on it. Again, I got the calls looking for lost loved ones, the crazy calls, some calls from women, and some hangups. But there were fewer this time.
Message #435 — George, from Miami, an engineer who is now living in the city. He's athletic, works out, and loves quiet walks.
Message #476 — Otis, a musician and artist, who is looking for a "woman for inspiration." (From the heavy sounds of him breathing, it sounded like he was already inspired).
Message #479 — Tyrell, 26, an entrepreneur with his own independent record label, who likes parties, prefers champagne over wine, and going to the movies. Tyrell sounded good. I wrote down his number on a yellow sticky note. I fell asleep and dreamed of cheese.
Chapter Three
The next morning, I was greeted by of a message from Larry on my voicemail at work. It was short and sweet, thanking me for the evening and saying it was a pleasant surprise. When I erased it, I was a bit moved that he chose to call me at work, instead of calling me at home. I guess it was his way of giving me my room. The ball was still in my court. However, I did not place a $55 ad to play hard to get. That would be a waste of money! I called him back, but his secretary had said he stepped away.
Maddie met me for lunch downstairs in front of my building in Soho. We had the usual chicken Caesar salad. Everytime I saw Maddie, I couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was. Her shape was tall and slender and her clothes were always fashionable and fitted. As I saw her walk up the street, I felt self conscious and started running my hands to neaten my already styled hair.
"I called you after work yesterday to see if you wanted to meet at SugarSips. I was going through one of my moments," Maddie said, her tone a bit sad. She picked through her salad as she kept pushing her long, thick hair behind her ears. The new diamond studs she bought herself sparkled each time she tilted her head.
The silence was a bit uncomfortable. I felt like keeping Larry to myself because I didn't want to make her feel worse. But then again, Maddie was my best friend, and it felt weird hiding something that I would have loved to hear her opinion on.
"You know that ad I put in, right?" I asked Maddie trying to feel her out, to see if she wanted to know more.
"Yeah, and?" she said raising her eyebrows. She put down her bottled water and gave me her undivided attention.
"I got so many calls!" Out of nowhere, I got excited. I had tried to contain myself, but I couldn't. "Maddie, so many men called. Most of the calls were a waste of my time, but a few really got me going. I called this one guy, Larry, back. We went to Laradou last night afterwork! He's so into wine! And you know how much I love wine. Plus,. . . ."
She interrupted me in midsentence. "Did you ask for ID? An address? Some information that would help verify who he is? He's still a stranger from nowhere. Do you at least have his home number?" Her gaze on me was intense.
One by one, she kept giving me the drill. Of course, I hadn't asked him all the questions she asked me. But it was our first meeting. Hopefully, there would be others. And if he was Jack the Ripper, at least he was polite and chivalrous.
"No!" I shouted! "Come on! It was just the first time. Please, I'm just telling you because I was excited about it. Who would have known an ad can really work?" I managed to break a smile just to lighten the moment.
She smiled too. "You don't know if it 'worked'," she said digging back into her salad again. "'Worked' would be if he became your husband. Anything else would be frivolous. And you can find that without spending $55." She had a point.
"I really would like the whole husband thing. But if I can meet a man who I at least have a few things in common with. Then it 'worked' for me," I said pointing at myself.
I went on to tell Maddie about Tyrell, the last guy who responded to my ad. She just sat there expressionless, just shaking her head. For once, I had something over her. Well, even if it was a small something that would hopefully turn into something big. If not Larry, then someone else.
When I got back to my desk, I called Tyrell. To be exact, I called his cell phone, since that was the only number he left. It rang several times before anyone picked up. Then when someone did, all I heard was thumping bass in the background and traffic noise. A few seconds later, I heard the voice.
"Yeah, yeah. Tyrell, here! Who's this?" The voice asked over all the noise. "Hello? Hello!"
I was already enticed. He didn't sound angry or annoyed. I took a deep breath and introduced myself as the woman with the ad.
"Oh yeah! Whatsup? Still taking applications?" he asked. I could tell he was smiling.
It was obvious by his question that he was already taking control of the conversation.
"I guess so. It's only day two," I said, sounding a bit nervous at his aggressive style.
"So let's cut to the chase. I don't talk to people I can't see. I liked your ad, but that was just enough for the phone call. To continue, I need to see you," he said.
"But I do want to know a few things before we do that," I said looking at the email notification from Paula on my desktop. I closed it and reminded myself to get back to it later.
He cut in. "If just for a few minutes. Let's just meet tonight. Anytime you can. As long as it's after 8 p.m.," he said. "You can ask me anything then."
"Okay, I mean, sure. Um, I live down the block from SugarSips. You know that place, right?" I asked.
There was another call on his line and he put me on hold. Before I could exhale, he was back, picking up on my question.
"They used to call that little spot Michelin's! Yeah, that's cool. And it's right by the studio, we can meet after my session. How's 9 tonight?" Before I could answer, there was another message from Paula.
"Hello?" he asked since I was skimming over Paula's email.
"9 o'clock it is," I said catching myself. Paula said she needed to see me asap. "Sure, well, how will I know it's you?" It was time to hang up, but I couldn't.
"Look for a dark brother with a mustache and goatee. Built, like pushing 200 pounds. I'm pretty sure I'll have on what I have now, which is a green leather jacket and knit cap. With that, we sealed the plans for the evening and disconnected.
I grabbed a yellow notepad and made my way to Paula's office. Most likely she was going to rant off a list of things for me to do. I didn't understand why she couldn't just email them to me. It was almost like she liked to see me squirm as she dictated each chore.
"Oh, I was just about to call you," she said putting down the receiver. Her dark hair was shiny but overshadowed by her shinier platinum engagement ring. It nearly covered the entire lower half of her wedding finger.
The leather chair across from her desk was piled with color coded files (more work to do for me), so I sat on the small stool nearby. I got my pen ready as a cue that I was ready to start, no small talk. I needed to call Maddie to tell her about Tyrell.
For some reason though, I was trying to ignore the platinum rock on her finger. Every time the light reflected on it, the ring was blinding. Paula was only two years older than me. I was somewhat jealous, but I couldn't ignore it. I reached for her hand and congratulated her.
"Paula, this ring is so pretty. You may need bodyguards wearing this on the street!" I said almost excited for her. If she could snag a man, anyone could. Paula was a workaholic — worked long hours, even weekends. She was neurotic, unorganized and moody. Somehow, I knew there had to be another side to her. A side only a good man could bring out.
"How did you meet Brian?" I asked suddenly. I surprised myself by my question. I didn't want to get too chatty with her, but she seemed eager to answer. It was a question I asked all engaged couples. Just in case there was something I was missing.
"It's the strangest thing. We used to date each other a few years ago. Broke up because we were both immature, still pretty young and indecisive. Then a few months ago, I was at the Printing House, and he walked in with his gym bag. My first thing was to avoid him, but he had already seen me. And since that day we were inseparable. We missed each other for those two years. We even dated others," she paused as she thought back. "And after all that, it only took him three weeks later to propose."
"Amazing." That was all I said. We stayed quiet as we drifted into private thoughts. Why did it seem so natural the way everyone else met their "Mister Right?" Why did I have to be the only one placing an ad? Why couldn't fate just lift me up and just put me at the right place, right time? Why was everything so hard for me? A feeling of guilt about the ad started to creep up on me but quickly washed away.
"Now," she said lightly patting her desk. "I just need you to type a few documents for me. Let's start with . . ."
Before she could finish, her phone rang. By her blushed cheeks, I could tell it was Brian. She gave me a look that said come back later. Walking away, I heard her laugh like a silly little girl. I thanked Brian, for what looked like was going to be a short afternoon.
Chapter Four
When I returned to my desk after lunch, I saw a note stuck on my computer screen from Paula. It said she'd be back later and to take messages. That was it. It was a pleasure to work for a soon-to-be-married woman! No neurotic lists of "things to do" because her mind was in the clouds.
I sat at my desk trashing all my old emails. I tried calling Larry again and got him.
"How was your day?" I asked. He told me he spent most of the mornings in meetings and decoding lines of software. He said he had a tuna sandwich for lunch. No mayonnaise.
"My day looks short. My boss left early, so I may too. I just have some filing to do," I said hoping he'd take the hint.
"What are you doing this Friday? Maybe we can catch a play or dinner?" He was fishing around for the best deal. I loved the sound of his voice. It was so James Earl Jones.
Finally, the 'real date.' "Well, I have some things that I haven't confirmed yet. But Friday night seems doable. Can you pick me up?" I asked, thinking about what to wear.
The conversation was short since Larry had to meat a deadline by the afternoon. We made the plans for Friday night at 9 pm. I still had Tyrell to see tonight. If all went well, I knew he'd want to see me this weekend, too. Saturday, would be his night. I went from no date in three months to two dates in a weekend. And I still had more messages to check.
Before I called Maddie, I checked my machine. This time I scribbled down only one message out of the 15 that were there waiting.
Message #565 — Tommy, 36, a fireman, lives in Brooklyn, collects baseball cards, likes gardening, reading and sports on Sundays.
I called him back right away before I called Maddie. It would just give me more to talk to her about.
The number he left was at the engine house where he was stationed a few days a week. Some groggy guy picked up, and passed the phone to Tommy, who must have been nearby.
"Hello, this is the woman calling back from the ad." I withheld my name to see if he was some ad player, like Xavier. He wasn't.
"Oh hi, I'm really bad at this. I left the message, but never thought you'd call," he said sounding somewhat shy.
"Your message gave me every reason to call. How can I resist a man who fights fires and plants tulips," I said trying to sound funny. I could hear him laughing on the other end.
"Where do you live?" I asked trying to keep my voice low since the office was unusually quiet.
Tommy lived in a brownstone on Lafayette Street in downtown Brooklyn. He's been a firefighter for almost 12 years and spends a lot of time working out (a very juicy detail that meant he had a wonderful build). We went on to talk briefly about our first time dealing with ads. He began to break out of his shyness and promised to call me back later that evening when he arrived at home.
When I hung up, it crossed my mind that I may miss his call, since I was meeting Tyrell.
I left work early and decided to stop by Maddie's office. When I got there, she had just finished a meeting with a client and had skipped lunch. We ordered chicken Caesar salad and ate in her office.
"So tonight I'm meeting Tyrell, just got off the phone with Tommy and have a 'real date' with Larry Friday night!" I said, dropping a piece of chicken on my tweed miniskirt. It was a dark green, so the stain wouldn't show.
Maddie started laughing. "They have you dropping food all over the place, I hope you're not going to be dropping panties next," she teased. "Just keep in mind some men would go an extra mile to get some new booty, even answering an ad." There she goes with her cynicism.
"Well did you ever think that there are men out there just like us?" Before I could go on, she started shaking her head no.
"They have more choices, more time. Less pressure to find a mate." I looked behind her desk at her leather Coach bag and saw an issue of Cosmo. Her latest bit of info must have been taken from some piece of junk journalism. Women magazines have really screwed some of us up!
"Wrong again," I said pointing my fork at her. She backed up playfully. "There are some men who like variety and may answer an ad to satisfy an appetite. However, there are others really serious about settling down finally and are tired of the same old meat markets. It's usually the last resort after you've tried everything else."
She finished her salad, and reached for my my fries. "I'm just the observer here. Watching and learning. I can't wait to see how your latest little experiment will end," she said folding her arms across her chest.
We changed the subject to work, our bosses, and planning a trip together for the summer. There was something inside me though, that felt as if things were changing between us, and one of us was going to be left behind.
Chapter Five
Later that evening, I turned my closet into the floor of a designer bargain store. Everything was everywhere trying to find the perfect outfit. I didn't want to look too dressy, or too laid back. If it was a short meeting, however, who knows what else may come up.
I walked into SugarSips a little before 9 p.m. I wanted to have a light drink, to loosen me up. Tyrell wasn't there yet since it was a bit early. And that's how I liked it. I hated walking into a room after my date was there and not knowing if he was watching me as I looked around nervously.
Sheila was off tonight. The other bartender there fixed me a nice tangerine cosmopolitan.
Before I finished, I saw him walk in. It was the lime green leather jacket that caught my attention. He had both hands in his pocket, as he stood at the center of the room looking around. He walked carefully through the crowded restaurant to the bar. He sat down at the other end of the bar. Now, it was my opportunity to spy on him.
He ordered a Hennessey, straight. He had on red tinted eye glasses, a knit cap, and a perfectly trimmed goatee. Holding his drink, he spun his stool around and observed the place. It was exactly 9:05. His eyes still hadn’t made it over to me. SugarSips was a black crowd, so it was hard to stick out. I saw him reach for his cell phone and talk animatedly with someone on the other line. His hands were moving, and his mouth was going fast. He hung and began to sip his Hennessey again. This time, I walked over.
"Tyrell?" I asked as I tapped him on his shoulder. He turned back surprised and gave me the biggest smile. He got up from his stool and let me sit. As I sat down, my cotton mini rose up, showing a little more leg than I think he was ready for.
"Nice skirt," he said his eyes stuck on my hips. "Want another drink?" he asked.
"Sure, but this time I'll just have some soda," I said. Tyrell ordered for me and a platter of wings and fries for us both. Buffalo wings were actually my favorite.
"So, tell me. Why does a gorgeous woman like you need an ad?" he asked. There was the question again! But he seemed genuinely interested in the answer.
"Just to see what's out there. I wasn't meeting many people the regular way. So, why not," I said. I took a handful of fries. I hadn’t eaten since I left work.
He stayed quiet, almost like he was pondering my comment. I took a greasy buffalo wing and bit into it carefully. He just kept staring at me as I chewed.
"I still can’t understand it," he said. "But one man’s loss is another man’s gain," he said moving so close to me I could feel his breath on my neck.
Tyrell told me he just started a record label and was producing rap artists. He wasn't Puffy Daddy. He was simply trying to build a name for himself. Parties, music, and studio sessions were part of his world.
The conversation was getting better, and I liked his take-charge style. I marveled in his adoration of me. Usually I would feel uncomfortable with a man staring at my curves. But he made me feel sexy, desirable.
Then his cellphone rang. He excused himself, and started writing down some info a friend was giving him. When he came back he asked if I could go to a listening party with him at Spa. At first, I was hesitant, but figured what the hell. I looked at myself and thanked Donna Karan that I was dressed right-hip and sexy. My suede knee-high boots matched perfectly with my chocolate brown off the shoulder top that made my skin and it look as one.
We left SugarSips and the few buffalo wings behind. He paid for everything and left the bartender a tip that made him grin. His Excursion truck was parked right outside. I waited for him to open the door for me on my side, but he went in first and opened my side from the inside. That left me a little unnerved. I kept quiet about it, though.
Spa was lightly packed — it was still early in the city. He introduced me to some friends, and sat me at a table, while he made his rounds. I was able to order anything I wanted and not worry about the tab. So I did, just to keep my hands busy. As I waited, I looked around, and saw how people gravitated to him. He was one of the producers of the album we were listening to and that meant everything. After a half hour, he was still moving around. Each time he would come back to sit down, there would be something he had to get back up for. I was getting bored.
The songs from the album sounded great — a fusion of rap, R&B and jazz. It was obvious Tyrell was not only handsome, but talented, as well.
There were a few girls he was talking to more than others, but I ignored that. I was seated at his table, his guest and felt special enough. However, I had no one to really talk to but him, and he was hardly around.
Toward the end of the night, he managed to relax. It was then we got to know each other better. We got up and danced to several songs on the album. He was a good dancer. There were some moments where we were close enough to kiss, and we did. When we got back to the table, I was curled up under his arms smoking a cigarette. We sat there not saying much, exhausted and sweaty from dancing.
I looked around and saw the music, the girls and the drugs. Tyrell must have heard my thoughts, and blurted out that he didn't use cocaine all the time, just at parties. He pulled out a tiny plastic bag that attracted several people to our table. They started cutting the powder up into fine lines and using large dollar bills to inhale it. A part of me was nervous, but another part of me was fixated. I was offered some, but I passed. I was already on a high from a few cosmos.
Tyrell had inhaled a few lines and stopped. His already aggressive personality, went up a notch. He got up on the table and started doing a strip tease with a few of his friends. I just sat looking up at them. I couldn't help but laugh a few times at some of their antics. It was 2 a.m. and the party was just getting started, but I had to be to work in the morning.
About a half hour later, Tyrell walked me outside and hailed a cab. We kissed again and said our good nights. He promised to call tomorrow.
I thought about him using the coke, and it didn't really bother me since I wasn't sure how often he used it. Though things were kind of wild, it was still fun. I was very much still interested in Tyrell. When I went home, Pinot Noir was sitting lazily on the sofa waiting for me.
Chapter Six
When I woke up in the morning, the night before seemed like a dream. Almost like it didn't happen. I didn't have a hangover, but my body felt drained. I called in sick and told Paula I had an awful cold. I knew how much of a hypochondriac she was and she didn’t argue with me about staying home. A few months ago, she even sent me home because I had an allergy attack and couldn't stop sneezing. That really bugged me because she made me feel like I should have been quarantined.
I rolled over to the other side of my queen sized bed. It was time for me to change my satin sheets because they were starting to feel itchy. But when you're single, who's watching? The time read 9:30 a.m. on the cable box and I thought about taking Pinot Noir for a walk. Before I left, I returned Tommy’s call, hoping he would be home. The weekend was approaching, and I really wanted to squeeze him in before Friday.
He picked up the phone refreshed and energetic, like he had been up for hours.
"I just got back from the gym," he said after I asked him what he was up to."Are you home or at work," he asked.
"I'm actually home, I took the day off. Are you working today?" I asked hoping he wasn't.
He told me he was off, and we started to tell each other our physical descriptions.
"Why don't we just meet. I'm on my way to Mike's for breakfast. How would you like to keep me company"? Mike's was a very good, little diner downtown
Brooklyn. It would only take me a few minutes to get there by train.

"How about brunch? I have just about given up on breakfast," I said. We agreed on brunch, and it would give me plenty of time to get ready.
Tommy seemed like a regular, blue collar man who liked his women tame and not too flashy. So I opted for a casual knee length jean skirt and a V-neck black sweater. I washed out the smell of smoke from my hair, and styled it from the loose curls I had last night to pulling it all back from my face. I then exchanged my large square-shaped earrings to small gold hoops. I looked in the mirror, proud of how I managed to look casual but still appealing.
Seated by the food counter, Tommy had already arrived. He was exactly as he described. He wasn't the most attractive man, but he had some interesting features. He had a stocky, 5'11" frame that didn’t fit my six-feet requirement. But he had great broad shoulders, which, I assumed, were from carrying people from burning buildings. The body definitely won over the face. He had a pair of chubby cheeks that made him look more like an overgrown boy than a man. I guess it could have been worse.
When he saw me, he reached for my hand and gave it a light shake. We walked over to a booth and ordered some coffee. Tommy was a calm man, liked simple things and was divorced. But had no kids. He went on to tell me how he owned the house his ex-wife tried to take from him. The story was interesting because it helped me understand more about him and his background. He confided that he was ready to settle down again because he wanted kids.
I ordered the french toast with turkey bacon and he ordered a large waffle with pastrami and sausage. Watching him gently butter his waffles and listening to him talk, his look started to grow on me. As I ate, I listened to his firefighter stories and his affair with gardening. I told him about my ill-fated attempts to makeover my mother's front yard with perennials. He offered his help anytime I wanted it.
A man who was good with his hands was something that was important to me. He was brave, useful, in shape and a news man. He said he would read at least three different newspapers a day. He admitted it was mostly for sports, but he kind of got caught up into everything else. I told him about Houston and why I moved to New York. He offered to take me to see some sites in Brooklyn. I had only visited once. We ended brunch and made a date for Sunday afternoon. There was an exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum he wanted to see, and I had no problem seeing it with him.
When I got back home, I had a message from Larry and Tyrell. Tyrell babbled on apologetically about the coke and his friends. He said he hoped to see me Saturday. I called Larry back and we spent about 40 minutes on the phone. We had been talking more since we first met, and I felt more comfortable with him than anyone else. I was really looking forward to seeing him, too.
I called Maddie at work, but she was out at a meeting. I was left by myself for most of the day thinking about the results of my ad. I had to go through lots of bad apples to get to the good ones. Most of the ones I did call back turned me off on the first call. Larrry, Tyrell, and Tommy were all manifestations of the different sides of me. Sides that I didn't know even existed.
I spent the last few days talking to all three men on the phone. (Larry was Friday, Tyrell was Saturday and Tommy was Sunday.) I was sure not to call each by the other's name and not to mix up details. I even kept a notepad with me when I was on the phone with them to remember our last conversation.
Friday night had arrived. Larry picked me up in his Altima right on time. We went to a Brazilian restaurant by the Essex House that evening. I wore my special gold earrings with pink tourmalines, a black shirt dress, and a fringe clutch bag. He couldn’t stop complimenting me. Our date was similar to the first, careful constructive conversation about books, art, and of course, wine.
However, I started to notice, he was one dimensional, almost robotic. There wasn't much edge to him. His jokes were strained and he was rude to the waiter. I used to be a waitress, but he had no idea. He was chivalrous. He pulled out my chair, opened car doors and walked on the outside of the street. But something wasn't clicking for me.
After dinner, I suggested we go across the street and walk through Central Park since it was still early enough. He complained that it was too cold and windy. That was a complete turn off. How could a real man complain about the cold, especially when the weather was still about 60 degrees? Not even the pleading on my end helped. I thought a walk through the park would open him up more. I guess he wasn't interested and neither was I.
Instead, he wanted to go to a bar for some drinks. It was obvious he needed the distractions of his environment to hide from himself. I needed a man who was more comfortable in his own skin, enough to be himself without any additives. I told him I had a headache and needed to go home. He drove me home, and tried to change my mind. I gave him a courteous kiss.
The next morning, I used the piece of paper I wrote his number on to pick up Pinot Noir’s poop.
Chapter Seven
The next night it was Tyrell. The plan was to catch the game on the big screen TV and shoot some pool at Slate's. I wore a short leather mini with a sequined belt and a vintage inspired top. If I wasn't that good at pool, perhaps, my bending over would distract him from making those vital shots. It worked. We spent two hours playing pool and getting drunk. I beat him in four games, and he won three. Maybe it was the skirt, after all.
As usual, a night with Tyrell turned into something else. We ended up going to Cheetah's afterwards. His friends, some of whom were at the listening party, were
waiting for him at the VIP table. There were opened bottles of Moet and some Cristal. I wasn't a champagne person and loved my wine. He ordered a glass of red wine for me, but it was Cabernet Sauvignon. They had run out of Pinot Noir.

I managed to survive. And then it was de ja vous. One of Tyrell's friends had the coke this time, but they got up and took turns doing it in the bathroom. I stayed at the table and smoked my cigarette. I didn't feel like dancing since it was insanely crowded. One might get their chest crushed trying to work through all the mess. The party got wilder. There was a couple making out in the booth behind us, people simulating sex on the dance floor and Tyrell and his friends doing a strip tease on our table. It was insane, but so predictable.
As the party passed its peak, people started to leave. Tyrell drove me home and I slept most of the way. He walked me to my door and I invited him in. I was a sucker for a fine man, maybe that was my mistake. We started kissing at the door and made it past the living room. His hands searched my body for its approval, as he began to unbutton my blouse. And so it was. We landed on the bed and I finally got to see what the others got a peak of during his striptease. We turned off the lights and had our own little party - in bed.
I turned over the next morning and Tyrell was still asleep. It was 6 a.m. Sunday morning and I had plans. I nudged him gently on the shoulders and gave him "that look." He turned over on his back and smiled pulling me closer to him.
"Don't worry, I'm on my way out. I’m gonna go home and finish off this sleep." He looked at me. "I should have been answering ads from the beginning," he said laughing.
"Maybe you’re just lucky this time," I said. We both stared up at the ceiling with sleep still in our eyes.
He got up and grabbed his pants. We were friendly with each other, but neither made any promises. As he walked out, I said, "Take care," the code phrase for "Have a good life!"
Tyrell reminded me too much of how I was in my early 20s. I had passed that phase and was looking for something more concrete. I could tell what being his girlfriend was all about — going to his parties, drinking, getting high and of course, watching him moon people. I took a long, hot shower.
As I was making some pancakes, Tommy called. We agreed to meet at the museum at 2 p.m.
I wore a simple black pants outfit underneath my tweed coat. Tommy was in front of the museum waiting. When I made eye contact, he actually looked a little better than our first meeting. He was wearing a leather jacket, jeans and boots. I wished he was taller because with my heels we were nearly the same height. The first thing he did when he saw me was give me a hug. It was surprising, but felt strangely familiar.
We spent most of our time at the museum going up and down the floors and picking out our favorite pieces. My mother always told me to get a man to take you seriously, you should date him only in the daylight hours. She said it was too easy for a man to hide under the night and its secrets. But a man who was willing to show you himself under the glare of the day's light, is a man showing you his true self. Unedited.
And I believed that. Tommy's personality was very relaxing and it relaxed me, too. He wasn't a man of too many words. He chose his words wisely. He brought a calmness to me. After the museum, we went to the Botanical Gardens and bought a pack of perennial seeds for my mother's lawn. It was definite assurance that he was going to be around for a while.
I met Maddie for lunch Tuesday afternoon to update her on everyone. I told her about Tommy and how we haven’t been able to stop speaking since Sunday. Maddie and I went to our favorite deli as usual. She ordered a chicken Caesar salad, but I ordered something different.
高楼谁与上?长记秋晴望.往事已成空,还如一梦中!

 

回复:单身黑人女郎

单身黑人女郎
原作:Maryann Reid 
翻译:tulip_lotus
第一章
黑皮诺,(译者注:黑皮诺,一种名贵纤细优雅充满想象的黑葡萄酒。种植时需要不断的爱护与关注,它精致却娇嫩,就像空谷幽兰;只有肯花时间去了解它的人才有可能领悟、发掘它的潜质。 )——我的大黑狗,刚刚从严重的肾病中康复。养宠物,费用极高,但是与小心翼翼地维护一种感情比起来,还是养宠物要容易得多。在离开休斯敦之前,妈妈把它送给了我,期望在我的新家中,它能保护我。它喜欢舔我的臂膀,或许它错误地判断为这是巧克力糖果。目前它是我生命中唯一的“男性”,不过我希望这种状况不会持续太长时间。
正当我和它在厨房里玩耍的时候,电话响了起来。
“您好,这里是《城市乡村》杂志,我们要最后确认您的广告”,电话那头传来单调的声音。而我,想到正在做的事情,胃部禁不住抽搐起来。
“是的,我用信用卡付账。”我说着,然后给了那个男人我的账号。我听到他在电脑的那头输入了我的账号,并转述了我的要求。他声音空洞地把广告读了一遍,好像他已经见惯了来来去去的广告的喜喜忧忧。
“单身黑人女郎,26岁,刚来到纽约。娇小玲珑,凹凸有致。欲觅一位身高超过6英尺的单身男士,他必须喜欢书籍、音乐以及黑皮诺。29——36岁之间,有事业心。”
他读完了,我花了几分钟时间试图来整理思路并组织语言。这幅广告明早将要在《城市乡村》登台亮相,该杂志是纽约的主流杂志,只居于《纽约》杂志之后。
“祝你好运!”说完他就挂断了电话。只留我一人,静等广告将要为我带来的一切。黑皮诺仿佛也嗅到了我的不安,烦躁地走来走去。
这是我第一次登这种广告,当然以前也期盼做些庸常或不庸常的事情来打发单身时光。自从来到纽约,几乎有一年了,我还没有和任何男人约会过!Sugarsips位于14街上,是当地的一家酒吧,离我的住所只有几个街区远,那是我经常光顾之地,偶尔还会和酒吧那位温柔懂礼貌的侍者莎拉闲闲地喝上几杯。我也设法找到了一份兼职工作, 还是动力球游戏厅的一名成员——几乎是所有,但独独没有约会。莎拉说有可能是我自信或者说勤奋—聪慧—独立的气质但是想—成为—你的—小女人的面孔让男人迷惑,因而不知所措。
偶尔,我会穿着带网孔长袜、高及小腿肚的靴子、迷你裙和吊带背心去酒吧,莎拉会抱怨我这种酷酷的—松弛的—小孩样的—摇滚的美眉形象可能只会把男人吓跑。另一个星期五,我穿着一袭性感与城市风格的连衣裙风驰而入,她说这看起来还不错。然后,我就变成了一个“常客”,她就再也不对我评头论足了,直到现在。
梅蒂,我的校友,我最好的朋友,认为目前这种状况也许是我工作太努力的缘故。我听从了她的建议,开始在周末和她一起参观博物馆、读书、演讲。接着黑皮诺病了,然后我又换了一份新工作,业余时间基本上再没有了。登广告是对我而言意义重大。要和一位从来没见过的陌生男人会面,想想都感觉激动人心。想想看,这个城市的最适合作为婚姻对象的男士,而且希望能是心智健全的男士要给我打电话,而不是我给他们电话。(当然,需要心灵感应。)
第二天早上,在去公司的路上,我暗下决心:一直等到中午再打开我的邮箱。午餐时间也许是开始回复电话的好时光。而如果压制着我的好奇心一直等到下午5点,恐怕需要坚强的意志力。我的老板,鲍拉,每隔十分钟就送过来一份新文件让我打印。现在还只有十点钟,不过我打印的文件都足能使垦寇歇业了。
“周末过得怎么样?”鲍拉一边将一份75页的文件放入我的工作箱,一边问道。
“很好,就是太短了。”这么回答着,我并没有将眼睛从电脑屏幕前移开。
对这种敷衍式的问题,只能作如此标准的回答。也许她应该在一小时之前我在硬面包圈店时问我这个问题。“星期一忧郁症?别着急,很快就会歌唱《感谢上帝又是星期五》了”。说完她就走开了。我琢磨着她所说的话。如果人类的情绪只由星期几来控制,那生活将会变得多么简单!我的情绪却由我账单的增减和我生命中的那个男人(如果我有幸拥有一位的话)来支配。
上午10:27了。我决定走过这截长路,从打印机回到我的办公桌前。似乎是每次走过鲍拉的办公室,就会起到提醒她需要什么东西的作用。我刚走到办公桌前,她已经站在那等我了。
“我刚去问过唐纳是否知道你去了哪里。”她挤出一幅笑容来。“我正跑步上楼去参加一个会议,但是今天下午的预备会需要把这些准备好。”她交给我一叠照片让我复印。
不幸的是,每张照片都需要单独装入信封,需要各不相同的细节标注,以及不同的订单表格。
我忙乱地在文件中翻找,又打印这些不同的订单表格,感觉时间过得飞快。但还是不能向我所希望的心无旁骛、专心致志在这份单调的工作上。斯蒂夫——鲍拉的老板,当我接电话的时候不断地通过他办公室的玻璃门向这里瞟。是梅蒂,打电话问我黑皮诺的健康情况。她建议我去找上西侧街那位深得爱戴收费极高的兽医给黑皮诺瞧瞧。但是黑皮诺对于谁给它看病却很敏感,它已经习惯了第九街的西佛女士。
挂断梅蒂的电话,几乎就是正午。斯蒂夫已经出去吃午饭了,那也意味着所有的人都已经继他之后离开。通过拥挤的电梯时,我发现了一间空会议室。如果从我的办公桌那打电话,只会被鲍拉忙碌的电话打断很多次。
我的心脏好像是跳到了喉咙里。我太害怕了。如果根本没有收到任何电话怎么办?如果收到的电话都是那些变态意淫的人打来的怎么办?如果都是空号的电话怎么办?但是,当我战战兢兢地拨通了我的语音信箱后,发现竟然有35条留言!广告仍然墨迹未干,那就说明还仍会有更多的电话。我取出笔记本,记下那些听起来最有趣的信息。
#342——斯蒂夫,一位从伦敦来的从事投资业的银行家,要在这里停留几天时间。(好像他判断错误了,认为我要提供的是陪护服务)
#345——曼纽尔,一位企业家,刚刚离婚,喜欢稣韦艮红葡萄酒。(我想他打电话的唯一理由只是为了抗拒这种他最喜欢的红酒)。
#355——费边,瑞典人,期望获得绿卡。
还有一些信息很怪异,一些人在寻找他们失散已久的姐妹和母亲。
一个小时快过去了,我拉了一个有15个人名的清单。我力图摘录下一些他们留下的连贯语句和重要信息。有两个人名——莱瑞和夏威尔给我印象深刻,我决定尽快给予回复。
我从楼下的熟食餐厅要了一份鸡肉凯萨色拉和煎面包。一边大力咀嚼着色拉,一边信马由缰地想象。这是登广告的最好感觉。一种无法想象的感觉。疑惑、期盼。。。。。。但是这里没有期盼,期盼只会毁灭这种关系。我甚至都不期望我要打电话的男人能够腰板挺拔、单身、健康或者有点吸引力。没有期盼,没有期盼。。。。。。
鲍拉“开会”回来了,带着一种异样的情绪。她看上去放松、快乐,脸上熠熠放光。我看到大部分助手都在她的办公室前喧闹,但不知道到底发生了什么。有的在大笑,有的在高声祝福,甚至斯蒂夫也在其中。原来是鲍拉订婚了。太伟大了!对我单身生活的又一个提醒时刻横亘在我面前。希望我的境遇也会很快发生改变。
第二章
到家后,我告诉了梅蒂我在《城市乡村》登广告的事。如果没人分享兴奋,那兴奋也变得一钱不值。
“所以我最后把范围缩小到两个。我也怀疑到明天还会不会有男人的电话,他们纯属浪费我的时间。也许他们都是那种一旦上床就再也不给电话的男人。”梅蒂今天没有约会,独自在家。然而,她选择的是用最传统的方式来获得她的婚姻学位。
“你真是神经病!”梅蒂尖叫到。我能感觉到她的嗓音里甚至有些怨恨。“登广告简直是太贪婪太不顾一切了,我没有两个学位来回周转,我也不会去恳求男人。如果他们不想要我或者注意不到我,那时他妈的他们的损失!”她很自恃。
“也是。但是登广告我又能损失什么呢?最糟糕的也只能是回到我现在的状态——我早已经习惯的状态。但是,最好的情况呢?我有可能因此得到婚姻!现在,为了这种有可能出现的最好的情况,我情愿将我以前的慎重付诸一点点与风中。”我喘口气,给黑皮诺取它最喜欢的瓶装水。“而且,我们现在还不到30,现在所犯的任何错误都可以归结为年轻莽撞因而可以轻易得到开脱!”
接下来的半个小时,就登广告的意义我俩唇枪舌剑。她依然确信我是浪费了55美元。本来可以用来在Sugarsips为我和她买点饮料。
梅蒂有时候真是有点愤世嫉俗,尤其是涉及到男人的时候。年龄渐长,我俩的共同点却越来越少。或许她恐惧如果我找了男友,那她真的就孤身一人了。她是我在这个城市的唯一朋友。我现在的这份工作就是她给我牵的线,我们在Sugarsips碰的头。当我终于挂断了她的电话,我有些后悔告诉了她。
我给夏威尔打了电话,但是他却记不清我是哪个广告的女郎了。他是个不折不扣的广告游戏者。他一定是同时回复了几个广告。我感觉夏威尔简直是有点不顾一切了。
下一个是莱瑞•詹姆斯。他是位系统分析师,在新泽西和曼哈顿的总部为派尔网络工作。他是白羊座,刚刚32。没有小孩。他也喜欢黑皮诺,经常参观长岛哈得逊河的葡萄园。
“哦,我知道这是一个在约会中经常滥用的问题,但是,还是请铭记能让我们相识的媒体。”在他读完了资料后,我作了个小小的提议。我们已经在电话里聊了12分钟,不过我仍然对他很感兴趣。对于我来说,真是个不错的信号。
他稍有些羞涩地笑了笑。“对这个,我是第一次。在你之前,我从来没有回复过这类广告。”他停下来,等着我说话。
“你平时都有些什么娱乐?比如在周末?”我问他,尽量希望不让这场谈话听起来像是找工作的面谈。
“除了去葡萄园,我还特别喜欢阅读,出去吃晚饭。也有的时候,就呆在家里,守着看《学习与发现》频道。”他回答。
到目前为止,他看起来很稳当,他的声音平稳、低沉。我在头脑里已经勾画出了一幅他的图片。但是,没有期盼。
我们还谈论了在TLC上我们最喜欢的节目,还有最热爱观看的《情感动物》频道,特别是有关伴侣的片段。
我向他描述了我的外貌,他也是。莱瑞答应一挂断电话就用电子邮件传给我他的照片。我告诉他他只能等等才能看到我了。能掌握和控制一种变化,这种感觉,真的不错。
甚至都还没来得及放下电话,我的邮件就来了。我做出忙忙碌碌好像在寻找一个文件的样子,就在办公桌前偷偷地打开了他的照片。我刚要这么做,鲍拉就从我这里走过,不过她倒是没怎么注意我。自从她订婚后,我都轻松了很多。
这个文件太大了,似乎永远也打不开。照片的纹路在一行行地慢慢展开。首先,我只看到了云朵,然后是一座高高的建筑,再然后是树,然后出现了一个人的头顶,眉毛。
经过三分钟半,图片才下载完毕,他完整地站在了我的面前。我尽力缩小了窗口,以防有人偷窥。他穿得很保守,站在一家旅馆的外面,着商业装。看上去他好像是参加一个什么会议。他比照片里周围的人都要高一些,证明他宣称的超过6英尺所言不虚。看起来应该有6英尺2英寸的样子。他的皮肤略称棕色,几乎和杏仁的外皮颜色差不多。他纤细、瘦长,像个篮球运动员。他只是微微笑着,嘴角的肌肉稍稍牵动了一点,不像他周围的那些人,有的咧着嘴,有的哈哈大笑。
莱瑞令人感觉愉悦,但气质严谨。这一会,我在想:他应该是个多么适合作丈夫的男人啊!至少,一个要作丈夫的男人,就应该是这个样子的。我给他回了电话。我们约定下班后在Laradou——市中心的一家葡萄酒奶酪吧见面,是他的主意。
挂断电话后,一股能量似乎激荡着全身。我在内盒里摸出一叠粘着小小的黄色便条的纸。“相片文件”“输入输出文件”“档案文件”“100份复印件”,小便条一张张地贴着。这些工作还不必马上完成,但是我逐个翻出来,做完了所有。我甚至还为鲍拉把最后那份复印件也装订好。
通常都是只有她提出要求,我才会这么做。我感觉顺畅,甚至有些转世为人的快乐。我想到给梅蒂挂个电话,但最后还是没有。
鲍拉很早就离开了办公室,所以我也紧随其后。我需要给自己留点时间以防在和莱瑞会面的途中迷路。4路火车几乎是我坐过的唯一的火车,无论到哪,我都是步行。但这次,我就得乘坐F路到第二街。下车后,11月的冷风扑面袭来。
我的头发错落有致地披散着,微风把它们轻轻吹起。这里的街道不像住宅区那么人流攒动。远处的一声铃响让我神思恍惚。不知道这起广告事件何时能不再占据我的头脑。我忘记再查留言了,但我自己暗下决心,明早第一件事就是做它。
莱瑞就站在Laradou前,夹着公文包。我在这边,就能看到站在街对面的他,突然之间,我感到如此困窘。我可以现在转身就走、或者假装是路人从他的身边走过,他也不会知道是我。但是,与生俱来的冒险精神牵引着我,穿过马路。他看上去和照片里几乎一模一样,灰色西服,深蓝色衬衫,深灰色领带。我微笑着,和照片里一样的清浅的笑容也掠过他的嘴角,我们互相做了自我介绍。
我们握握手,他用光头稍稍颔首致意。我们一起走进去,立刻被一种很奇怪的氛围感染。屋里点染着烛光,光亮刚好为我们这样的消费者留出必要的私密空间。女招待引导着我们走到一张桌前,莱瑞先走到一侧,为我拉开椅子。
我们都在静静地研究着菜单,那种尴尬的气氛还是挥之不去。谁都不好先开口,唯恐说错什么更加难堪。
我的视线从菜单上越过,抬头问他:“喜欢来点奶酪吗?奶酪这一版的品种非常多。”
“实际上,我对饮食很挑剔。我还是将切达干酪(译者注:产地英国)作为首选。我还喜欢将意大利干酪(译者注:一种用脱脂乳制成的坚硬的干酪)和鸡肉一起放在英雄面前。”他开始大笑起来,我猜测他以为这是个笑话,为了礼貌,我也微笑了一下。
“切达干酪和葡萄酒一起用总是很好。但是,泰迪拉和拉派瑞尔是我最喜欢的西班牙奶酪。在这个城市很难找到。”我说完了,意识到也许他会认为我是在表现自己。
他看上去有些感兴趣,不过我还是试图能找到机会知道他对我的评价,毕竟这是我们第一次会面。
“我好像还真没吃过拉派瑞尔。用这个作奶酪的名字有点意思。”他很平静地说着。即不是幽默也不是讥讽。他只是面无表情笔直地坐在那里。
我对他解释拉派瑞尔是一种软奶酪,尝起来颇像他很熟悉的法国布里白乳酪。与小萝卜或葡萄酒同吃是最好的消化方式。
最后他终于说到:“像您这样光彩华美的女人,怎么会需要在报上登这种广告?”他的眼神在我毛衣所凸显的胸部曲线上来回摩挲。
我很期待这个问题。不过是期望以一种更诙谐的方式。但是,如我所言,没有期待。。。。。。
“为什么一位单身而专业,这么有魅力的男士需要回复这么一个广告呢?”我的问题刚说完,他马上坐直了身子,紧了紧领带。不是拉松,而是系得更紧。他真的很需要一杯饮料。
我们谈论着即要工作还要和在这个城市的某人约会有多么难。有时传统的方式只会让人畏缩。所有的聚会、所有的场合,给人以太多的选择。我们都认为人们更需要一种非常有形而直接的方式来联系。所以,读广告,然后选出适合自己的广告,看起来更适应现在的节奏。
当我们开始谈论葡萄酒时,话题更加丰富。莱瑞告诉我他与美国葡萄酒之间的爱恨交织,以及当他在纳巴(译者注:美国加利福尼亚州西部一城市,位于奥克兰以北。是纳巴山谷的中心,此山区是有名的葡萄园集中区。)看到恢宏巨大的葡萄园时的震撼。我给他讲述了我与波尔图葡萄酒以及黑皮诺葡萄酒的故事。我们花在评论葡萄酒上的时间甚至比我们品酒的时间还长。莱瑞和我点了至少五种不同风格的红葡萄酒。对于真正的葡萄酒的知音来说——比如我们,从来不饮白葡萄酒。只品红葡萄酒。
这个晚上过得很慢,但道别时感觉不错,稳定而友好。莱瑞是个地道的“黑雅皮”。他独自一人生活,随身携带着选民注册卡,对于自己的言行举止,都很注意。
莱瑞驱车送我回家,并一直等着直到我走进家门。他没有要吻我的意思,但是从他的眼睛凝视我的状态看得出来:他很喜欢他所看到的我的一切。我也是。我们约好了周末再会。
我刚走进房门,黑皮诺就撒着欢扑过来。我忘了给他留食物了。直到我把它的食碗放满了东西,他才罢休。我还在它的碗边放上一小块美食家狗狗饼干,以示我对让他等待的歉意。上星期,我带着他去了美食家狗屋,那里专门出售为狗狗特制的新鲜烤制食品。我为狗狗囤积了大量他喜欢的饼干和零食。这也是我在休斯敦所找不到的东西。
甩掉高跟鞋后,我拨通了我的广告邮箱。我和莱瑞相处得是不错,但是还是忍不住想看看邮箱里还有没有别的电话。或许,还有更多的“莱瑞”
们在那呢!而且,希望里面还有几个瓦特!
我在那本里面印有黄色花朵的红色活页夹上潦草地记下一些名字。我再一次收到了那些寻找失散的亲人的电话,疯狂的电话,还有一些女人的电话,以及一些空号电话。但这次电话少得多了。
#435信息——乔治,来自迈阿密,现在居住在这个城市,是一名工程师。他有着运动员的体质,擅长计算,喜欢安静地散步。
#476信息——奥蒂斯,音乐家和艺术家,他在寻找一位“灵感女神”。(从他沉重的呼吸声,我感觉他好像已经被激发了灵感)。
#479信息——泰瑞尔,26岁,企业家,有自己独立的唱片商标,喜欢聚会,愿意在葡萄酒里勾兑香槟,看电影。泰瑞尔给人的感觉不错。我在一个黄色便签本上记下他的号码。然后,困意来袭,接着梦到了奶酪。
第三章
第二天上午,工作的时候,我收到了莱瑞发到我语音信箱的问候信息。简短,但很甜蜜,感谢那个共同度过的夜晚并说那是一个令人欣喜的意外。我擦除时,有些感动,他很细心,选择在工作时间给我电话,而不是私人时间。我猜想那是他的一种给我空间的方式。球仍然在我的球场里,我仍掌控着整个局势。然而,我登这个55美元的广告,可不是为了玩“难以追逐”的游戏。那就纯粹是在浪费金钱。我给他回了电话,他的秘书说他出去了。
梅蒂和我在搜后建筑物的楼下共进午餐。我们和平时一样点了鸡肉凯撒色拉。每次我见到梅蒂,都禁不住注意到她有多么漂亮。她高挑、纤细,着装时尚、得体。当我看到她沿街走来,我马上意识到自己的着装,并开始用手整理我已经很时尚的发型。
“昨天下班后我给你打了电话,看你想不想和我在SugarSips碰面。我那时候一直闲着。”梅蒂的音调略有些悲伤。她不停地将她浓密的长发向耳后掖,并在色拉上挑挑拣拣。每次她一侧头,她自己新买的钻石钮饰就闪闪发光。
沉默让人略感不安。我感觉还是让莱瑞先雪藏为妙,我不想让梅蒂感觉更糟。但是,转念一想,梅蒂是我最好的朋友,将这种听听她的意见才好的事隐瞒不说,似乎有些不正常。
“你知道我登的那个广告,对吧?”我问梅蒂,试探着看她是否有兴趣想知道更多。
“我知道,怎么了?”她说着抬起了眉毛,并把水杯放下,专心致志地盯着我。
“我收到了很多电话!”莫名地,我有些兴奋。我试图多点自制力,但做不到。“梅蒂,有那么多男人的电话!大多数都是浪费时间,但也有几个让我真动了心。我给一个叫莱瑞的家伙回了电话,昨晚下班后我们去了Laradou,他对葡萄酒非常在行,你也知道我有多喜欢葡萄酒。另外。。。。。。”
我还没说完,她打断到:“你问他的身份证了吗?问他的住址了吗?了解了哪些信息能帮你确定他到底是何方神圣了吗?对你来说,他只是一个不知道出处的陌生人。至少,你应该有他的家庭电话号码?”她很严肃地盯着我。
她一个接一个地对我提问。当然,我是没有问他那些梅蒂问我的问题。不过,这才只是我们的第一次会面啊!(希望还能有更多的会面。)即使他是那个撕裂者——捷克,至少他很有礼貌,也很侠义。
“不!”我喊道,“求求你,快打住!这不过是第一次会面。我告诉你是因为我感觉有些期盼。即使知道了身份证号,又能起什么作用呢?”我试图挤出一点笑容,以便能让气氛感觉轻松些。
她也微笑着。“你也不知道能不能有什么‘作用’。”她说着,再次埋头对付她的那份色拉。“如果他能成为你的丈夫,那就是有‘作用’,其他任何事情都是徒劳。花费的那个55美元也不例外。”她指着我。
“我是期望事情能如我所愿。但如果能遇到一个和我有些共同点的男人,那就证明有了‘作用’”。我指着我自己说。
我接着告诉梅蒂有关泰瑞尔,那个最后回复我广告的家伙的一些情况。梅蒂坐在那里,没有任何表示,只是在一直摇头。再一次,我有些地方比她强了。即使只是星星之火,也可能演变成燎原之势。即使不是莱瑞,也有可能是其他人。
我回到办公室后,给泰瑞尔打了电话。确切地说,我打了他的手机。既然他只留下了这个唯一的线索。响了几声后,有个人接了起来,可是我能听到的只有背景中沉重的低音乐器声和交通噪音。几秒钟后,我才算听到了一个声音。
“对,对。我是泰瑞尔。您是哪位?”这个声音越过了所有的嘈杂声。“喂?喂!”
我有点动心。听起来他没有生气,也没有恼怒。我做了个深呼吸,自我介绍我是登广告的那个女人。
“哦,对。有什么事吗?广告仍然有效?”他问道。我能感觉到他在微笑。
只这一个问题,我就明显地感觉到他在这场谈话中占了上风。
“我猜是吧。只不过是第二天。”我回答道。他这种挑战性的交谈方式,让我倍感焦虑。
“就让这场追逐到此为止。对于我看不到的人,我从不交谈。我喜欢你的广告,但也只能止于电话。如果想要继续,我就要见到你。”他说。
“但是,见面之前,我得知道几件事。”我边说边看鲍拉给我的电子邮件留言,关掉后我提醒自己过一会记得要给她回复。
他打断我的话。“如果只有几分钟,就让我们今晚见个面。只要是8点钟以后,任何时间均可。那时你可以问我任何问题。”
“好吧,我的意思,那好吧。嗯,我住在和Sugarsips毗邻的那个街区。你知道那个地方,是吗?”我问他。
他又有个电话打了进来,于是他让我先待机,未等喘息,他就转接过来,接着回答我的问题。
“他们习惯称之为小点米麒麟的那个地方?对,我知道。很酷的地方。音响也不错。等我开完会后,我们在那见面,今晚9点钟怎么样?”还没等我回答,鲍拉又发来一条信息。
我匆忙浏览了一下鲍拉的信息,泰瑞尔这边紧跟着“喂”了一声。
“好的,9点钟。”我设法集中注意力。鲍拉让我尽快过去。“好的,可是,我怎么才能知道谁是你呢?”其实是该挂断电话了,但是,我却接着问了一句。
“连鬓胡,下巴的胡子很长。黑色雄壮动物,有力拔泰山之气势。我现在穿着绿色皮夹克,编织帽。晚上依然是这一身。”我们说好了之后,就互道了再见。
我抓起一个黄色笔记本,冲向鲍拉的办公室。她极有可能又是吐沫横飞地给我罗列一大堆工作来做。我真不明白为什么她就不能通过电子邮件发给我。 也有可能她就是喜欢欣赏她对我口授工作时我辗转不安的样子。
“哦,我就要给你打电话了,”她说着放下了已经抄起来的话筒。她的黑发熠熠发光,但是在她那更加灿烂耀眼的白金订婚戒指的映照下,却显得大为失色。这枚戒指几乎遮盖了她的手指的一半。
她办公桌对面的皮椅子堆了一摞彩笔标注的文件(我又有活了),所以我坐在她跟前的小凳上。我拧开钢笔,示意我已经做好了开始接受工作命令的准备,不想有工作之外的闲聊。我还想给梅蒂打电话告诉她有关泰瑞尔的事情。
不知道为什么,我力图不去看鲍拉手指上的白金戒指。她的手稍微一晃动,戒指的光芒就会刺得我睁不开眼睛。鲍拉只比我大两岁。我真的有些嫉妒,但是我却不能不提这件事。我摸摸她的手,并说了恭喜。
“鲍拉,这枚戒指真漂亮。戴着它在街上走得带保镖了!”我说着,还真有点激动起来。如果她都能抓住一个男人,任何人都能。鲍拉是个工作狂——长时间地工作,甚至包括周末。她有些神经过敏,做事毫无规律,极端情绪化。然而,我也确定她身上肯定有另外我们所不熟知的一面。只有好男人才能发掘出来的一面。
“你是怎么和波瑞安相识的?”我突然问道。这个问题把我自己也吓了一跳。我不想和她交流的太多。但是,她好像倒是非常乐意回答我这个问题。这个问题,我问过所有有了婚约的情侣们。以防有什么必须知道的东西被我错过。
“这真是世界上最奇怪的事情了。几年前我们曾经约会过。但是,因为我们都太年轻、不成熟和没有决断,最后分手了。几个月之前,我正在印刷间,他背着运动包走了进来。我的第一反应是想到回避,但是他已经看到我了。自从分手,那几年我们再没有联系,甚至也分别和别的人约会过,”她停顿了一下,似乎沉浸在回忆中。“可是,自再次见面,仅仅过了三周,他就向我求婚。”
“真是不可思议。”我说完这一句,房间一片静寂,我们都在个人的往事中漂浮。为什么每个人遇见她们的“Mr. Right”(正确先生)都是如此地理所当然顺理成章?为什么只有我需要登广告?为什么命运不能将我轻轻举起,在合适的时间,托放到合适的地点?为什么每件事对我而言都如此艰难?登广告的罪恶感开始在我身体里蔓延,不过我很快摆脱了这种感觉。
“现在,”她轻轻地敲敲办公桌,对我说。“只有几个文件需要打印。让我们先从这个开始。。。。。。”
还没说完,她的电话响了。从她绯红的双颊,我知道是波瑞安的电话。她看了我一眼,示意我过一会再来。我边走,边听到她像个愚蠢的小女孩一样的笑声。我很感谢波瑞安,看起来这将是个很短暂的下午。
第四章
午餐后回到办公室,我看到电脑屏幕上贴了一张纸条。是鲍拉的。她说她要稍晚一点回来,让我给她留言。太好了,在一个-就-要-结婚-的-女人手下工作,感觉真是很美妙。不会因为她的头脑里阴云密布,就给我罗列一大堆神经兮兮的莫名其妙的工作。
坐在办公桌旁,我处理掉一些旧邮件。然后我给莱瑞打了个电话,他接了起来。
“你好吗?”我问道。他告诉我这些天的上午他几乎都在开会,还要给软件程序解码。他说他午餐要吃金枪鱼三明治,不加蛋黄酱的。
“我这一天将过得很快。我老板早就走了,所以我也可以早走。还有一点点文件,马上可以完成。”我希望他能听出我的暗示。
“这个星期五你有事吗?或许我们可以聚聚或者吃顿晚饭?”他在左右逢源,寻找最佳时机。我喜欢他的声音。太像詹姆斯•尔欧•琼斯的声音了。
最后终于敲定了时间。“喔,我现在还有点工作没完成,不过星期五看来没问题。你能来接我吗?”我边说边考虑到时候穿什么。
因为莱瑞下午还有工作要完成,所以我们约好了星期五晚上9点的约会后就挂断了电话。今晚我还有和泰瑞尔的约会。如果一切顺利,他这个周末也可能会约我。周六,应该留给他。从三个月无一约会到现在一个周末有两个约会。而且,还会有更多的信息源源不断地涌来。
在给梅蒂打电话之前,我又检查了一下我的留言。这次我从15条里只选出了一位。
#565——汤姆,36岁,消防队员,住在布鲁克林,喜欢集棒球卡、园艺,喜欢在周末阅读和运动。
给梅蒂打电话前,我先给汤姆回了电话。我只想和梅蒂的谈话能有更多的话题。
他留下的电话号码是他一周工作数天的机房的电话号码。有个喝醉了的家伙接起来电话,然后递给汤姆,他一定就在附近。
“你好,我是您回复的登广告的那个女人。”我没有提及我的名字,想看看他是不是和夏维尔一样,是个广告游戏者。他不是。
“哦,你好。我真不知道该怎么说。我留了言,但真没想到你会给我电话。”听起来他有些羞涩。
“你的留言让我没有理由不给你回电话。我怎么能抗拒一位和烈火争斗且种植郁金香的男人呢?”我尽力用幽默盖过我的尴尬,以使我的话听起来幽默一些。我听到他在那头大笑起来。
“你住在哪里?”我尽量放低音调,因为他那边的办公室听起来是不可思议的安静。
汤姆住在布鲁克林市中心拉法野图街的上层阶层居住区。已经当了12年的消防队员,花费了大量的时间在他的住所上。(是个令人想入非非的细节,证明他的住所一定很舒适)我们又简要地谈了谈我们这第一次和广告打交道的经历。他的羞涩感不再那么明显,并说等到晚上到家后给我打电话。
挂断电话后,我意识到我有可能会错过他的电话,因为今晚我还要赴泰瑞尔的约会。
我早早就离开了办公室,决定去梅蒂办公室一趟。我到那时,她刚刚结束了和一位客户的会面,还没有吃午饭。我们叫了鸡肉凯撒色拉,就在她的办公室吃起来。
“所以今晚我要赴泰瑞尔的约会,才刚刚挂断汤姆的电话,而星期五晚上还要和莱瑞有一次真正的约会!”我说着,一块鸡肉掉在我的斜纹软呢迷你裙上。裙子是深绿色的,所以污痕不是很明显。
梅蒂开始大笑起来。“他们都让你颤栗得时时刻刻往下掉食物渣了吗?我希望你下次别再掉了裤子就好。”她停了停。“记住,有些男人为了一件新战利品会多走几英里,或者是——答复一则广告。” 她又开始了冷嘲热讽。
“可是,你有没有想到这个世界上也会有和我们一样处境的男人呢?”我还没等继续,她又开始大摇其头。
“他们有更多的选择,更多的时间。在找寻伴侣上也没有那么多的压力。”我看了一眼她办公桌后的Coach牌皮包,那里有一份《大都市情怀》。她最近的信息一定都来自这些垃圾杂志。这些女性杂志需要让我们振作。
“你又错了。”我用叉子指着她说。她向后仰着,笑意盈盈地看着我。“或许,是有些男人喜欢变化,所以会答复类似的广告来满足他们的胃口。然而,也确实有一些男人,他们厌倦了那些雷同的古老的人肉市场,而又特别认真地想要安定下来。因而,在试过了所有的方式之后,广告可能是最后的选择。”
她吃完了她的那份色拉,开始吃我的煎面包。“我就做个观察者吧,观察、学习。我真是有些迫不及待地想知道你的那些小小经历将如何收场。”她说着,把双手交叠在胸前,看着我。
我们又聊了一些工作、老板的话题,又计划着夏季我们一起出去旅游。然而,在我的内心里,有一种感觉,感觉到我们之间开始有了变化,我们中的一个将要落在后边。
第五章
那天晚上,我的衣柜几乎变成了服装设计师的廉销店地板。衣物堆得到处都是,都在力图找到最佳的搭配。我不想看起来太奇装异服,但也不想看起来很落伍。虽然只是一个很简短的会面,但谁知道还将会发生什么呢?
我在9点前走到了Sugarsips。我想先来点软饮料放松自己。因为我提前到达,所以泰瑞尔还没到。我正想要这样的效果。我最痛恨这样的事情:约会晚到了一会,走进一个房间,你只能焦急地左顾右盼,却不知道早到者是不是已经坐在一隅,安静地观察着你。
莎拉今晚不在。另外的服务生给我送来了味道不错的橘子世界。
还没有喝完,我就看到他走了进来。他穿的酸橙绿色的皮夹克先引起了我的注意。他双手插在兜里,站在屋中央,目光来回逡巡。接着很小心地绕过拥挤的餐馆人群来到酒吧,选择了在酒吧另外一面的一张椅子上坐下。现在,我有机会来仔细地观察他了。
他直接要了一份汉尼森。红眼镜,编织帽,留着非常完美的山羊胡。一手握着饮料,他转着小转椅,也在观察着这个场所。现在是9:05了。他的视线还没有扫到我这边。Sugarsips是个黑人聚集的地方,所以每个人在这里都不突出。我看到他摸出来手机,开始和某个人很亲密地谈话。他的手在动,嘴巴也在飞快地说着什么。然后他挂断了电话,又开始吸他的汉尼森饮料。这回,我走了过去。
“泰瑞尔?”我拍拍他的肩膀问道。他惊讶地转过身来,然后给了我一个灿烂的微笑。他从小凳子上站起来,请我坐下。我坐下后,迷你小棉裙上窜了一点,这样,露出了更长的一截大腿,他显得不知如何面对。
“真漂亮的裙子!”他说着,眼睛没有离开我的臀部,“想再来一杯饮料吗?”
“好的,但这次我就想来点苏打,”我回答他。泰瑞尔给我点了苏打,然后又给我俩点了一大盘的鸡翅和烤面包。布法罗鸡翅是我的最爱。
“那么,请告诉我,为什么像你这样一位华美灿烂的女人,需要作这样一幅广告?”又是这个问题!但是看起来他好像对我如何回答很感兴趣。
“只是想看看外面的世界是什么样子。通过平常的方式我没有机会接触到男人。所以,为什么不选择另外一种方式呢?”我回答。手里抓满了鸡翅。从下班到现在我还粒米未尽。
他静静地坐着,好像正在对我的回答做着思考。我又拿起一块很腻的布法罗鸡翅,小心地啃着,他就安静地盯着我大嚼特嚼。
“我还是觉得不能理解,”他说。“但是,一个男人有所失,另一个男人就有所得,”他说着,凑到离我很近的位置,近到我的颈项能感觉到他呼出的气息。
泰瑞尔告诉我他刚刚开始注册一个唱片的商标,正在批量生产摇滚乐艺术家。他不是巴菲老爹,他只是想为自己赢得名誉。聚会,音乐,以及录制唱片构成了他生活的部分世界。
我们之间的交流变得越来越有感觉,我喜欢他那种一切我负责的样子。也很惊异于他对我的那种外露的爱意。通常如果一个男人如此用目光摩挲我的曲线,我会感觉到很不舒服。但是,泰瑞尔让我感觉到我的性感和渴求。
然后他的手机响了,他对我说了一声对不起,开始写下他朋友告诉给他的一些信息。接完电话后,他问我是否愿意和他一起去参加一个在温泉浴场举行的音乐聚会。起初,我颇有些犹豫,但随后想,管他呢。我看看我自己,感谢上帝,我的衣着很得体,也很性感。及膝高的小山羊皮靴子和我肩部以上暴露在外的棕色皮肤相互映衬,几乎是完美的无可挑剔。
我们离开Sugarsips,也留下剩下的为数不多的几个布法罗鸡翅。他为所有的消费买了单,还留下了令侍者眉开眼笑的小费。他的远足卡车就泊在外面。我等着他为我打开我这边的车门,但是他先钻进了车子,从里面为我打开了车门。这让我略感不快。不过我保持了沉默。
温泉浴场还不算太拥挤——这个时间对这个城市来说夜晚还没有开始。泰瑞尔把我介绍给他的朋友们,然后让我坐在一张桌子边,他就去四处转悠了。我可以随便点我喜欢的东西而不必为账单发愁,所以,哪怕只是为了让手不闲着,我也是何乐而不为呢?在等待他的时候,我四下环顾,可以发现他在这里是多么地受欢迎。他是我们正在听的这张专辑的作者之一,那很说明问题。大概过了半小时,他仍在到处走,每次刚回来坐上片刻,他就又有事需要走开,这样来来回回,我开始有些厌烦。
这张专辑的音乐听起来真是不错。应该是打击乐、摇滚乐和爵士的组合。很明显泰瑞尔不仅仅是英俊,还多才多艺。
他和其中的几个女孩交谈得比其他人要多一些,但是我不在意。我是他的客人,和他共享一张桌子,已经是足够特别了。然而,这里没有人我能够说得上话,只有他,可是他却总是在到处转。
这个夜晚快要结束时,他才设法回到桌子旁。这时我们互相才开始有了更多的了解。我们站起来,随着专辑上的音乐,跳了几次舞。他是个不错的舞者。有几次我们离的很近,近到能够接吻,是的,我们接吻了。回到桌子旁,我绻到他的胳膊下吸了一支雪茄。我们坐在那里,都没有说话,跳舞让我们精疲力竭、汗流浃背。
我环顾左右,观察那些音乐下的姑娘们以及吸食毒品的人们。泰瑞尔仿佛听到了我内心的想法,很突然地对我说他不是所有的时候都吸食可卡因,只有在聚会时才偶尔用点。他拽出来一个小塑料包,有几个人被吸引过来。他们开始把这些粉面切成很规则的一长条,用大面额的美元卷着来吸食。我身体的一部分变得很焦虑,可是另外一部分却在凝视。有人递给我一些,但是我拒绝了。我已经很兴奋,高高在数层宇宙之上。
泰瑞尔吸食了几条后,不再用了。他那本来很具挑战的性格,更是达到了顶峰。他站到桌子上,和几个朋友一起跳着脱衣舞互相挑逗。我安静地坐着,看着高高在上的他们。看着他们滑稽的动作和古怪的姿态,有几次我忍不住笑出声来。已经是凌晨2:00了,而聚会刚刚开始,但我早晨还得去工作。
过了有半个小时, 泰瑞尔把我送出来,给我拦了一辆小车。我们互道晚安,并吻别。他说明天给我电话。
我想着他吸食可卡因这件事,不过并没有怎么困扰我,我并不知道他的吸食频率。虽然事情有点过格,不过仍然很有趣。我对泰瑞尔仍然很感兴趣。当我到家时,黑皮诺懒洋洋地躺在沙发上等我。
第六章
第二天一早醒来,前一夜经历的事情似乎像个梦。几乎令人不能相信它的曾经发生。我并没有宿醉的感觉,可是体力却消耗殆尽。我打电话请了病假,告诉鲍拉我得了重感冒。我知道她有多么多疑,不过她对我呆在家里并没有提出什么疑义。几个月之前 ,我得了严重的过敏,控制不住地流鼻子,她甚至还送我回家。那让我感觉似乎被窥视,好像我应该被隔离。
我的床宽大、舒适。我从这边滚到另外一边。我的丝绸床单似乎是应该换洗了,因为我感觉到了有点痒。但是,当你是单身的时候,谁注意这些呢?有线盒已经报时,是上午9:30了,我想带黑皮诺出去散步。离家之前,我回了汤姆的电话,希望他能在家里。周末就要到了,我真希望能把和他的约会安排在周五以前。
他接起了电话,听起来精神抖擞、活力充沛,好像是已经锻炼了数小时了。
“我刚从体育馆回来,”当我问他为什么听起来如此精神高涨时他这么回答我。 “你在家呢还是在工作?”他问我。
“我是在家呢,我请了一天假。你今天上班吗?”我问他,暗暗希望他不上班。
他告诉我他今天不上班,于是我们向对方描述了自己的体貌特征。
“何不我们现在就见个面呢?我正在往麦克老店走,去吃早餐。你愿意和我一起去吗?”麦克老店非常有名,是布鲁克林市中心一家很小的餐饮店。坐火车到那只需要几分钟时间。
“我刚要吃完早餐,我们一起进早午餐怎么样?”我说。最后就这样说定了,这样我就有足够的时间来做准备。
汤姆应该是个很正常的男人,对他喜欢的女人很柔顺,不喜浮华。所以我最后定格在这一套服饰上——很平常的及膝牛仔裙,V字领黑毛衣。我清洗掉我头发上的烟味,将昨晚卷曲蓬松遮住脸部的头发束起来。然后我把现在佩戴的方型巨大的耳环收起来,佩上小小的金耳环。向镜子里望去,我自豪于我的尽量普通,但仍然光彩照人。
汤姆已经到了,坐在食品柜台前。他对自己的描述非常精准。他不是最吸引人的男人,但很风趣。他有些矮壮,大概有5英尺11英寸高,不太符合我所要求的6英尺的高度。但是他的肩膀很宽,我想那应该归功于他从火场里向外扛人的结果。一个人的身体绝对比面容更重要。他的双颊丰满,所以看起来与其说是一个男人,还不如说是一个过度发育的男孩子。我想随着时间的推移可能会更糟糕。
他见到我后,伸出手来,轻轻地握了握。我们走到一座小棚前,点了一些咖啡。汤姆是个很安静的男人,喜欢简单的事务,已经离婚,没有小孩。他断断续续地告诉我他怎样保住了他前妻力争要得到的房子。这个故事很有趣,因为这可以让我更多地了解他以及他的背景。他在倾诉,他已经做好了安居的准备,因为他很想要小孩。
我要了一份法式面包和土耳其熏肉,他要了一大份的熏牛肉夹肉肠华夫饼干。望着他慢悠悠地往饼干上抹着黄油,听着他的侃侃而谈,他的形象在我心里逐渐丰满起来。我慢慢地吃着,听他很平静地讲述那些惊心动魄的救火故事以及和园艺有关的插曲。我向他讲述了我为了翻新妈妈的房前小院,对那些多年生植物造成的致命性的毁坏。他说只要我愿意,他可以在任何时候伸出援助之手。
一个男人,拥有灵巧而能干的双手,对我而言,意义重大。他勇敢、能干、有形而且喜欢阅读报纸。他说他一天至少要读三种不同类型的报纸。不过也承认大部分是运动版块栏目,当然也留心其他的事情。我告诉他我在休斯敦的经历,以及为何辗转来到纽约。他提议改天带我去参观布鲁克林的一些景致。这些我只有机会参观过一次。星期天下午在布鲁克林博物馆有一个他很想看的展览,刚好我也可以陪伴他,于是在结束早午餐后,我们约定那天再见,
回到家后,我看到有莱瑞和泰瑞尔的留言。泰瑞尔对于他的朋友的所作所为以及可卡因的事情喋喋不休地向我道歉。他说他希望在周六能和我见面。我给莱瑞回了电话,在电话里聊了有40分钟,自从上次见面,我们现在的交流也变得多了起来。和他在一起,我感觉更舒适,所以非常希望能再见到他。
我往梅蒂的办公室打了电话,可是被告知她出去开会了。只留下我自己,在这剩下的几乎一天的时间里思考这次登广告的结局。我需要捡拾出大多数的坏苹果,只留下真正熠熠发光的几位。我回电话的大部分都在第一次就让我大倒胃口。莱瑞,泰瑞尔和汤姆俱为我不同性格侧面的展示——那些可能连我自己都不确定知道的性格侧面。
接下来的这几天,我都在电话里和这三个男人交流。(莱瑞星期五,泰瑞尔星期六,汤姆星期天。)我要确保和每个男人聊天时不要叫错了名字,还不能混淆了细节。我甚至还在打电话时准备了一个小记录本,以便记清楚我们上次聊天的内容。
星期五晚上到了,莱瑞开着他的奥特玛车准时来接我。那晚我们去了一家埃塞思房旁边的巴西餐厅。我带着别致的镶嵌粉色电气石的金耳环,黑色体恤连衣裙,周围装饰流苏的拉链包。他对我赞不绝口。 我们的这次见面和第一次没有什么不同,谨慎的建设性的交流一些有关书籍、艺术的看法,当然,也包括葡萄酒。
然而,我逐渐发现,他是一个多维的,呆板的家伙。没有任何棱角。他的笑话很枯燥,对侍者很粗鲁。我曾经当过服务员,当然他不知道。他也会为我拉开座椅,上车时也会为我先打开车门,走路时更是让我走在路边。但是,总是有什么不能让我随心而动。
餐毕,我提议既然现在还很早,我们何不穿过马路到对面的中央公园转转。他抱怨天太冷,风也太大。这应该是一种很彻底的回绝。一个真正的男人,怎么能抱怨天气寒冷?尤其是此时温度还足足有60度的时候?甚至我又婉转恳求了一次,他还是依然故我。我是希望通过散步能更多的了解他。不过我猜他对散步并不感兴趣,我也是。
相反,他希望能去个酒吧喝点什么。很明显,他希望能借助环境的分散来更好地隐藏他自己。我所需要的男人,應該是最舒服地做回他自己,而不是任何其他的附加。我告诉他我头有些疼,想要回家了。他驱车送我回家,在路上还想改变我的主意。我和他礼貌地吻别。
第二天早晨,我用那张记有他的号码的纸片装走了黑皮诺的粪便。
第七章
第二天晚上和泰瑞尔见面。我们计划是在大电视屏幕上玩游戏然后在Slate玩击球游戏。我穿了一件短迷你皮裙,腰间装饰有金属亮片的腰带,头上带着复古式的灵异帽子。或许,如果我击球不是那么在行,那么当我弯腰的时候一定能让他在那些重要的射击中分心。真的很起作用。我们玩了两个小时,喝的醉醺醺的。共玩了四种游戏,他赢了三种。或许,这还有我的衣裙的功劳。
像往常一样,和泰瑞尔在一起的夜晚变得有些不同寻常。我们最后去了Cheetah。他的朋友们,有些是我在那场听音乐会上见过的,已经在那里的VIP(重要任务)桌旁等候他。有一些已经开瓶的牟特和克瑞斯特。我不喜欢香槟,还是只爱我的葡萄酒。他为我点了一杯红葡萄酒,但那是稣韦艮红葡萄酒,超过黑皮诺。
我力图让自己保持清醒。然后他们就开始吸毒。这次是泰瑞尔的一个朋友拿出了可卡因,他们轮流起身,到盥洗间去吸食。我坐在桌子旁,抽我的雪茄。人群拥挤,我也没有跳舞的念头。如果想要在人群中穿过,可能最后会把胸骨挤碎。聚会开始变得更加疯狂。有一对在我们后面的小亭子里开始做爱,那些跳舞的人们在地板上模仿出各种性姿势。泰瑞尔和他的朋友们站在桌子上跳起脱衣舞互相挑逗。人们都极度疯狂,但也都可以预见。
聚会过了高潮后,人们开始离去。泰瑞尔驱车送我回家,我在车上迷迷糊糊地打盹。他和我一起走到我的房间门口,我邀请他进来坐坐。这样的好男人,我感觉自己就像一个吸盘,或许这是我的错。我们在门口开始亲吻,一直拥抱着穿过客厅。他的双手在我的身体上探索,似乎要找到一个落脚点,然后他开始解我的衬衣纽扣。纽扣一个一个地被解开,我们相拥着倒在床上,我终于能够看到他是怎么跳着脱衣舞达到了高潮。我们关掉灯光,在床上举行我们自己的小小聚会。
第二天早晨醒来,泰瑞尔仍在酣睡。现在是6点钟。星期天早晨我还有其他的计划。我用肘轻轻地推推他的肩膀,娇羞地看了他一眼。他转过身来,微笑着把我拉到他的怀里。
“别着急,我马上就走。我这就回家,这就结束睡眠。”他看着我。“我真应该从一开始就答复广告,”他大笑着说。
“也许你只是这次足够幸运。”我说。我们仍然都睡意朦胧,呆呆地凝视着天花板。
他起床,迅速地穿上裤子。我们彼此很友好,但是再也不会有任何约会了。他走出去的时候,我说了一声“保重!”或许,那也就是“祝你生活的愉快!”的潜台词。
泰瑞尔仿佛是我刚刚20出头时的生活的一个提醒。我已经过了那个阶段,现在只需要一种安宁稳定的生活。我能够想象成为他的女朋友之后的生活——去参加他的聚会,喝酒,变得兴奋不能自己,当然也会观看他如何和那些人闲荡。我冲了很长时间的热水澡。
当我正在烙早餐饼的时候,汤姆打来电话。我们约好下午2:00点钟在博物馆见面。
我穿上我的斜纹软昵外套,下面套上一条