No More Tears In The End

“It’s been a little rough. That briefcase you handed me will make things a lot easier. I should be able to open on time.”

“I meant to ask you when you first told me about it, but what do you know about running a store?”

“I used to be a buyer for Nostrums in Seattle.”

“Really?”

“You seem surprised. What did you think I was gonna say; that I used to be a cashier at Macys?”

I laughed, but yeah, I did.

“Well, I was a cashier at Macys, too, but I used to be a buyer.”

“I didn’t know that about you.”

CeCe looked at me like I was stupid. “There’s a lot that you don’t know about me, Mr. Black.”

“You’re right.”

“And I want you to know me. I want you to know that I’m more than just some gold-diggin’ baller’s girlfriend.”

By the time the waiter brought the check I knew that her real name was Cameisha Collins. She graduated from The University of Bridgeport with a degree in fashion merchandising. She moved to Seattle and worked for Nostrums out of their corporate office as a buyer. She came back to New York when her mother got sick. When she couldn’t find a job as a buyer, she got the job as a cashier at Macys and that’s where she met Cash Money. “You know the rest of the story.”

I had found out something else about CeCe. I found that I liked her. I’ve always enjoyed the company of women who could hold a conversation, and CeCe was definitely one of those women. She was intelligent without being snotty about it; she was playful, but not silly. CeCe was flirtatious, but not necessarily sexual.

And she was beautiful to look at.

“What now?” CeCe asked as we walked out of the restaurant arm in arm. “It’s a little early to go dancing.”

“I know it wasn’t part of our deal, but if you’d like, I got tickets for Cat on a Hot Tin Roof: the new production of the Tennessee Williams’ classic with an all-black cast.”

“How did you know I wanted to see that play?”

“I didn’t.”

“Well, Mr. Black, I would like that very much.”

“It’s playing at The Broadhurst Theatre on West 44th Street,” I said as Kevon arrived with the car.

After the play was over we went dancing, and I gotta say, although “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” was great, watching CeCe dance was the highlight of the evening.

It made me want her.

More than I already did.

When we got back to her apartment, I walked CeCe to the door. “I had a great time tonight, Mr. Black. The food was excellent, the play was outstanding and you, sir, are a very good dancer.”

“I just stood near you and tried not to look bad.”

“So,” CeCe said when we got to her door. “Do you know what it was that I wanted tonight?”

“Was it something other than dinner and dancing?”

“Yes.”

“What was that?”

“I wanted something most people don’t get. I wanted a second chance.”