wore a lot of silver jewelry, and every piece sang when she raised her hands and eagerly cat-stroked the sides of Juanita’s face.
Dana had frozen.
I blinked out of my voyeurism, cleared my throat. “Evening, ladies.”
Naiomi caught her breath and backed away from Juanita, let her purse slide to her right shoulder, then ran her hands over her reddish brown braids. “Hey, Mr. Browne.”
Naiomi was a couple of years older than me. I didn’t know much about her, just knew that she was Jamaican, from Oklahoma, divorced with a kid. She works part-time at a health center, counseling people with STDs, does the meals on wheels things and takes lunches to people with AIDS, teaches aerobics on the side.
Juanita ran a hand over her blond hair, evaluated Dana in the blink of an eye, but didn’t share any words. With her left hand, she pulled out her keys, twirled them, then unlocked their dead-bolt and two other locks.
Juanita’s in her early thirties, from Compton, the well-maintained section that no one ever sees on the news, went to Berkeley, teaches at UCLA’s extension program from time to time, but as far as I know, outside of keeping this building in tip-top shape, she never does much more than that. With her trust fund, she’s on easy street. Her folks own several pieces of property between here and the 110 freeway, this building being one of the nicest.
I had stopped halfway up. Wasn’t enough room for all of us on the landing, so I paused. The passageway didn’t have a breeze, so the stagnant air was filled with two kinds of sweet perfume, three if you counted Dana’s, and a hint of wine and romance. Both of them were glowing, had lustful eyes.
Dana was two steps back, eyes on the peach walls, more than likely uncomfortable, but I was six steps behind two of the most beautiful women in L.A. County. Well, they were in my opinion. I wasn’t trying to stare at Naiomi’s mound of almond joy, but it was right there. A buried treasure hidden in plain view.
Juanita’s head jerked, her eyes shot my way, caught me staring at the round of her woman’s backside. I yanked my head up and away; our eyes collided like two cars in a head-on collision. She frowned. Gave me a grimace louder than the sirens in the background. Her lips moved like she was about to embarrass me in front of Dana, but Juanita put her hand on Naiomi’s perky backside, held that embankment like it was her private joy, glared down at me as her bosom buddy opened their door.
A simple territorial nod from Juanita as she vanished.
Their door closed, three locks clicked on.
I breathed again, opened my door, and let Dana inside my place.
She dropped her purse, covered her mouth with both hands, and chuckled. “Yikes. Guess that wasn’t your woman.”
“Is that why you came up, to see if I was lying?”
“And to potty. Weak bladder.”
“Hope that didn’t disturb you too much.”
“Sweetie, I’m from the big city. I’ve passed by Dumpsters and seen homeless people having sex. That was nothing. It just caught me off guard. Made me feel, I dunno, silly and nervous.”
After the bathroom, she dried her hands on a paper towel in the kitchen, then lingered around the living room, made her way down the hallway, and checked out the rows of pictures.
“Wow. These are nice.”
Dana was talking about my black-and-white prints from the civil rights era: Rosa Parks on a bus; blacks fleeing a burning Greyhound bus somewhere in the South; brothers marching, wearing signs that let it be known that I AM A MAN.
She moved on to the photos of my parents, made a few nice comments, then eased her way down the hall to my James Patterson, Walter Mosley, Stephen King, and other novels on my nightstand.
Then she was in my den of sin, my bedroom. Next to my old, cold bed.
Her eyes roamed, then she sang out, “Alrighty, then. What’s up with the video camera in your bedroom?”
I said, “Just in case.”
She smirked. “Nice boys are always perverts.”
My eyes went to the videotape that was on the pine dresser. The video held erotic moments of me and my ex-wife.
Dana kicked off her shoes, and my bitter thoughts left the room.
I moved into her space, put my hands around her waist, pulled her hips up to mine. Her breathing thickened. Her eyes had the soft and sensuous glow a woman possesses when she wants to share