“I’ll have a water for now,” I said, skimming through the menu.
“And you can bring me a flaming volcano,” Michael said.
The waitress punched our requests into a handheld computer and took off.
“You look very nice,” Michael said, looking me in the eye.
“Thank you,” I said redundantly. “You look nice yourself.”
“Thanks. Are you hungry? Because I’m starved,” he said, opening his menu.
We ordered our appetizers and entrees, and before we knew it we were ordering dessert.
“This has been a wonderful evening,” Michael said as we walked hand in hand out of the restaurant.
At that point I was a little tipsy off of the volcano Michael convinced me to order. I was full of laughter and corny jokes.
“An evening full of wonder, yes,” I agreed.
Michael laughed. “I haven’t had a date like this in a long while.”
“You and me both,” I said, stumbling out of the door.
“Where did you park?” Michael asked, holding me up by my waist.
“Valet, the only way,” I said. “Ooh, that rhymed. I should be a rapper,” I added.
I started searching through my purse for my ticket. “I think you had too much of my volcano,” Michael finally realized.
“No, that volcano had too much of me,” I said with sass.
I pulled my ticket from my purse and gave it to the parking valet.
“Are you going to be able to drive home?”
“Better than I’d be able to walk,” I said.
“I think you should let me drive you to my house until the morning. You’re pretty messed up,” Michael suggested.
“Are you planning on taking advantage of me?” I sang flirtatiously as I played with the button on his Polo shirt.
“Not at all. I mean, I’ll drive you home and take a cab back if you want,” Michael said.
“You don’t drive?” I asked, confused.
“Well, I do own a car, but I drive very little. Only when I’m going to Boston or somewhere far from my house,” he answered.
“Oh, ’cause I was about to say, you have to have a C-A-R if you want to be with me.”
“Isn’t it J-O-B?” Michael asked, referring to the song.
“Isn’t what J-O-B?” I asked.
“Yeah, I think I will drive,” Michael said.
I woke up with a pounding headache. I looked around the room and thought I was lost. I looked down at the bed I was lying in and panicked. There was no one beside me, but I wasn’t in my bed. Then it hit me. I was in Michael’s house and oh, my God, I was not wearing my clothes. I started touching my private parts to make sure they were still intact. I was in a pair of oversized shorts and a T-shirt. Who put these clothes on me? I wondered. I jumped up, still scared. Michael couldn’t have helped but discover my secret if he had undressed me. I tried hard to remember what went on, but the last recollection I had was in the restaurant. I decided to hurry up and get out of there, but just as I attempted to get out the bed, Michael came into the bedroom. He was carrying a tray with a large knife sitting on the edge of it. I didn’t look at his face to catch his expression because I was too busy keeping my eyes on the knife. I was nervous as all hell. And all I could think about was him chopping my penis off with that knife. I had to get out of there.
“Michael, please don’t, I’m sorry, but…” I pleaded as I eased out of the bed.
Michael looked at me, baffled.
“Celess, what’s wrong with you? I’m not going to hurt you. I made you some breakfast,” he said as he sat the tray of food down on the nightstand. “Here, let me take that. I was chopping onions,” he said as he removed the knife from the tray.
I paused. I was really trippin’.
“Promise me you will not drink another flaming volcano ever in your life. You’re bugged out,” Michael said with a smile. “Get back in bed, eat some of this toast. It should help soak up some of that alcohol.”
I did as I was told. I couldn’t bear to stand up, anyway. Michael laughed at my paranoia and fed me the eggs and sausage he’d cooked.
“Tina, I was so embarrassed,” I explained over the phone.
“What kind of drink was that?” Tina asked.
“The damn thing had fire floating on top of it. I should have known better,” I said.
“Well, thank God he didn’t try anything. He probably would have killed your ass,” Tina said.
“No bullshit,” I agreed. “I still can’t figure out how I managed to put on those clothes. He said I went into the bathroom and everything.”
“Shit, ya ass wasn’t that drunk. You was sober enough to know you still had a dick,” Tina said, laughing.
“I guess I was.”
“So, is he your new dude?” Tina asked.
“He proved himself thus far. I just have to see what his bank account looks like,” I said.
“Well, make sure you take precautions,” Tina slid in.
“Please, Tina, not today. I don’t feel like the get-out-of-the-game speech,” I said.
“Just probe him a little. Shit, he might be gay his damn self. Then you would have a winner,” she said.
Truth be told, I’d only been talking to Michael for a week and I was starting to catch feelings for him. I even invited him to Albany for Tina’s wedding. We made plans to go to the King of Prussia Mall and buy something to wear together. This was the test, I figured. I was on my way to the mall to meet Michael with not a dime in my pocket. I would really be able to tell if he was right for me if he splurged on me even though we hadn’t had sex yet.
“Hey, baby,” I said as I kissed Michael on his cheek.
He was standing outside of Neiman Marcus as planned. He was dressed in a pair of jeans with the faded look and a black collar shirt. He had on some black Prada sneakers. He looked regular.
“Were you waiting long?” I asked as we entered the department store.
“About ten minutes,” he said.
“The traffic on 76 was jammed,” I offered as explanation.
“It’s cool,” he said as he kissed me on the top of my head.
We walked through Neiman’s trying to figure out what we wanted to wear to the wedding. We were trying to coordinate since he was going to be my date. Once we agreed on a color we went our separate ways. We decided to meet in the accessories area in an hour.
I tried on so many dresses and skirts and nothing appealed to me. Finally I found the perfect linen dress, a sexy number by Diesel. It was pastel blue and fit to my body just right. It tied behind my neck and flared from the waist down, reminding me of the famous white dress Marilyn Monroe was wearing in a popular photograph of her holding it down.
“Is that what you want?” Michael asked as we were approaching the cash register.
“Yes, it’s the only dress in here that fits me perfect,” I affirmed.
Michael pulled out his credit card. He didn’t have anything to buy for himself, so I could only assume he was planning on paying for my items. I watched him in silence. The cashier placed the dress in a garment bag and the silver Manolo Blahnik stilettos I’d also chosen in a shopping bag. When she gave him the total he handed the woman his platinum Visa. He’s the one, I thought to myself.
Michael didn’t find anything in the tons of stores we went in, so he wound up buying an off-white linen shirt and pants set from Vizuri on South Street.
We packed up our bags and were headed to New York on a Thursday evening. It was cloudy and drizzling when Michael picked me up from my house. We drove to Thirtieth Street train station to get the seven forty-five departure to Penn Station.
It was a comfortable train ride. I spent most of it cuddled up with Michael. We arrived in Manhattan at nine
