bin and yanked them on. After two grueling back-to-back flights, Tangela was anxious to go home, but she couldn’t even think about leaving until the aircraft was spic-and-span.
“At the rate you’re going, we’ll never get out of here!” Poking her head into the first-class cabin was her friend and the lead flight attendant, Carmen Sanchez. “Get a move on it, chiquita.”
“Entonces matame ahora mismo.”
“Put you out of your misery? At least you didn’t get stuck in the back thwarting the plans of kinky couples anxious to join the mile-high club!” Tangela laughed.
“I can’t say I blame them,” Carmen confessed. “I know what it feels like to be in heat. I haven’t seen Hugo for ten days and mama needs some sugar!”
“Please, no more stories about how magnificent Hugo is in bed.” Tangela fought to keep a straight face. “I’ll run out of here screaming if you do!”
Carmen stuck out her tongue. “You’re just jealous.”
“You’re right, I am.”
“It’s been that long, huh?”
“Girl, you have no idea.” Tangela dumped an empty water bottle into the plastic bag. “I’m going to have to watch a how-to video the next time it happens!”
“What’s going on with you and that Demetrius guy?”
“He’s really sweet, but I can’t be with someone who smokes weed, even if it’s only ‘recreational,’” she said, making quotation marks with her fingers.
“Oh, no, not another one!” Carmen laughed. “My ex used to smoke pot, too. After three months of him eating me out of house and home, I kicked his sorry butt to the curb.”
“Sometimes I think I should just give up on this stupid quest to find a husband,” Tangela admitted. Since Halloween, Tangela had been on one bad date after another. The singles’ potluck dinner at her apartment complex had given her something to do last Sunday, and although she’d met several attractive men, she hadn’t made a love connection. Tangela worked hard, took care of herself and had her own money, but she couldn’t find a man to save her life. “I don’t know why I’m kidding myself. Mr. Right probably doesn’t even exist.”
Picking up on the sadness in her voice, Carmen took the garbage bag and motioned for her to sit down. “You’re going to be fine, Tangela. And one day you’ll find the perfect guy.”
“I’m so tired of going home to an empty house. In Guadalajara, I got used to having someone to talk to and do stuff with. Now, I’m back here and there’s no one. Most of my friends are either married, engaged or in a committed relationship.”
“Cheer up,” Carmen admonished, patting her hand. “You’re seeing Oliver later and he always takes you somewhere nice.”
“He sent me a text message about an hour ago. He can’t make it. Something came up.”
“That sucks.”
“Tell me about it. Another Friday night with nothing to do and nowhere to go.”
“What are you going to do instead?”
Tangela shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Wash my hair, rearrange my furniture. You know, the usual single-girl crap.”
“Wanna stop by SushiSamba tonight? It’s been a while since I was there.”
“What about Hugo?”
“He’ll be fine. He has the Playboy channel to keep him company until I get home.” Snickering, she pulled Tangela to her feet. “Let’s finish up so we can go eat. Mama’s starving!”
Chapter Four
Socializing with clients after hours was one aspect of his job that Warrick hated. Away from their wives and esteemed country club members, sane, upstanding businessmen propositioned women half their age, guzzled champagne like it was water and partied more vigorously than a championship-winning football team.
Known for its carnival-inspired decor and twenty-one-seat sushi bar, SushiSamba appealed to professionals and partiers alike. It was the place to be seen at, and international real estate mogul Hakeem Kewasi had requested they have dinner at the upscale restaurant lounge. Proud of his movie-star looks, he’d hit on waitresses and girls barely out of their teens, but seemed particularly taken by full-figured women.
Warrick was nursing his second beer, wondering how much longer he’d have to babysit the businessman, when he felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. Convinced it was his father calling to check up on him, he said, “I’m going to the men’s room.”
“You’re not sick are you?”
“No. I feel great.”
“Good because the night’s still young, and I can’t wait to check out Vixen.”
“The topless bar?”
His eyes were bright. “My brother was here last year and he said the dancers at the club look like that Beyoncé girl.”
Warrick smothered a laugh. A week after Tangela had moved out, Quinten and the guys had dragged him to the gentlemen’s club on Paradise Road. He’d had a lot to drink, but he didn’t remember seeing any beautiful dancers there. Most of them looked like teenagers playing dress-up, not like the Grammy-winning superstar. “Vixen’s not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s just a lot of Las Vegas hype.”
“Andre said a hundred bucks can get me anything I want.”
There was no disputing that. Warrick wasn’t a saint and he loved clubbing as much as the next guy, but he’d rather go home and hang out in his living room than watch some bony chicks dance. He didn’t want to go to Vixen, but his dad had ordered him to show Mr. Kewasi a good time and that’s what he was going to do.
Strolling through the bar, he noted the coltish smiles the female patrons were shooting his way. Most were wearing designer outfits but had colorful tattoos on their shoulders and arms. Attractive in their own right, but not his type. Classy, sophisticated women who carried themselves with grace piqued his interest every time. Tangela would never dream of getting a tattoo. Or would she? If she could show up at the Hawthorne party in a skin-tight cat-woman costume, there was no telling what else she’d do.
The brunette sitting at the bar waved. Warrick returned her smile. He thought of approaching her, but when he saw her see-through outfit he changed his mind. It looked as if she’d stuffed two hot-air balloons under her dress. It was a wonder she didn’t topple over. Fake breasts didn’t appeal to him, and neither did silver tongue rings.
After using the washroom, he wandered into the lounge and sat down. The inviting decor, padded leather booths and lively music created a relaxing atmosphere. Pressing his BlackBerry handheld to his ear, he listened to his messages. Making a mental note to return the calls later, Warrick slid the phone into his pocket and stared up at one of the flat-screen TVs.
He checked the score of the Mariners game, relieved to see his team was beating the Yankees. An American Airlines commercial came on and he thought of Tangela. He wondered if she was
