53
TAYLOR
I
decided to celebrate my birthday at Ozio's on M Street. We rented the loft that overlooked the club on the Friday after my birthday.
As I got fly for my night, I absorbed my world. There was no reason to complain. Thirty. Flirty. And fly. Hell, you can't have everything. I squeezed into my tight black T-shirt that I had made in honor of that damn Devin Patterson. Our two-week relationship still crosses my mind. Anyway, the T-shirt had
PROVIDING QUALITY SERVICE SINCE 1977
stitched in white.
Thirty gave me a sense of accomplishment. The world should know that now they have to respect me. When I strutted in the club, my confidence was obvious.
Courtney laughed. “Oh, I guess that's your new mature walk.”
“Yup, love me or leave me alone.”
We slapped five. I said, “You'll see how it feels when you turn thirty.”
She rolled her eyes, saying, “Ho, now you taking this shit too far.”
We laughed at my overconfidence. As we danced the night away, several of my other friends rolled in. After the waiter seemed to bring a constant stream of appetizers out, she finally brought the carrot cake. Courtney gathered everyone from the dance floor to sing “Happy Birthday.” I sat on the couch, with my knees clenched together, my hands folded on my lap, while my friends sang to me.
The big three-oh flickered on the cake. Finally, it was time to blow out the candles. I sucked in all the emotions that plagued my late twenties. How was I to turn thirty without a prospect?
I blew out the candles and it seemed like the flame of desperation was finally extinguished. I was thirty and I felt damn good. So what, there was no prospect. I inhaled a feeling of freedom. Everyone clapped. I clapped too. I celebrated my life.
When the loft emptied, Courtney and I stayed there dancing. I looked over the ledge. Oh shit! Devin Patterson. Assuming his presence was coincidental, I huffed. He smiled. He walked toward me. Butterflies lined my stomach. His black blazer covered one of the white letters on his T-shirt. My eyes refocused when I saw the letters, “AY”. As I fantasized about him trotting up on a white horse, wearing a shirt with my name on it, he walked up the stairs. The abstract picture of Ray Charles and the letters R-A-Y struck me back down to earth.
Courtney whispered in my ear, “I invited him.”
I wish I could say I was mad at her, but I wasn't. I was just happy he decided to come. He hugged me and kissed my cheek. “Happy birthday, lady.”
I smirked. “You're late.”
“But I'm here.”
“I'm glad you came.”
“I wouldn't have missed it for the world.”
Considering he hadn't responded to any of my e-mails or phone calls since his birthday party, he could have fooled me. I cleared my throat. “Now, you wouldn't just happen to be taking inventory.”
He laughed. “Okay. You got me.” Then, he leaned his body close to me. I smiled and he kissed my cheek. “Yeah, I am.”
“So am I the best of the worst?”
He chuckled and his lips grazed my ear. “Nah, you're the best thing on the market.”
“You could have fooled me.”
He rested his arms on my shoulders. “Taylor, you know what happened.”
Not really wanting to explore the whole Scooter dilemma, I shrugged my shoulders. “Do you want some cake?”
“Can I eat it, too?”
“Devin, don't be silly.”
The DJ obviously knew I was celebrating my thirtieth birthday, because he was spinning all the old-school hits. BBD's “Poison” blasted through the speakers. Devin and I burst into laughter. He sang the lyrics. “It's driving me out of my mind. That's why it's hard for me to find. Can't get her out of my head. Miss her. Kiss her. Love her.”
He landed a kiss on my lips when he finished his singing episode. He looked into my eyes. “Taylor, I didn't want to mess up again.”
“Did you really have to act so ugly?”
He shook his head. “Taylor, I'm sorry.”
“Are you really sorry or are you just tired?”
“Nah, I want you in stock.” He kissed my cheek. “I want you to be the only product on my shelf. I knew it from the moment I met you. As much as I wanted you, I still was scared. So, when everything went down, it was just an easy out.”
I frowned. “What?”
“Get out before you get in. That's how you protect your feelings.”
As I thought of how often I'd used that strategy, I nodded. He smiled. “You feel me?”
“But, what about . . .”
He kissed me before I could mention his loyalty to Scooter. Obviously, it was no longer an issue. After landing a few soft pecks on my face, he asked, “Can you give me that chance?”
“Um . . .”
He kissed me again. “Taylor, we ain't getting no younger, we might as well do it.”
As his corny lines continued to make me laugh, I knew I wanted to pursue something further with him. I surrendered. “All right, dawg.”
He held me tightly and exhaled, like I'd done him a favor. My hands cupped his face to reciprocate the gratitude. My brain instantly fast-forwarded to visions of us sharing a happy future together. We proceeded to rock to the beats serenading our reunion. As we twirled on the dance floor, I suppressed the fantasy and lived in the moment.