Free Dirty Old Men [And Other Stories] (Zane Presents) by Omar Tyree Page A

cell phone with haste and called his emergency cell number at 11:56 p.m.
    “Hey, you guys make it back home safe?” David asked her over his line. He didn’t even say “hello.” There was a lot of noise in the background, as if he was still out at a bar or something.
    “Yeah, we all made it,” she answered.
    “And you’re still driving?”
    She paused and wondered if he could tell over the phone. “Unfortunately.”
    “And are you anywhere near the Marriott?”
    She thought briefly. “No.” She figured if he really wanted her, he would at least have to do a little work.
    “Are you
planning
to be?”
    “I
could,
” Beverly told him. And she left it at that, prolonging their cat-and-mouse game.
    “Well, what’s stopping you?” he questioned. “You came this far with it. And like I tell you, you have to be confident enough to go after what you want when it’s right there in front of you.” He added, “You’re holding the key to your own desires right now.”
    “Am I?”
    “You answer that question for yourself and call me back with your answer. I’ll be down in the lobby having a drink.”
    He hung up and left her to think for herself, right as she approached theexit ramp for downtown Birmingham. The Marriott was directly in view from Interstate 20 as she headed north toward home.
    The hotel is right there in front of me,
she told herself.
But…I mean, that’s just wrong. What if it was my husband?
    That thought made her want to call him back to beef about it.
    “Where is your wife? Is she there, too?” she called back and asked him immediately. She even had the gall to sound snappy.
    “You know better that that. Now, are you here or are you home?”
    He made the cat-and-mouse game sound finished. There was nowhere left for her to hide. Either she would accept his advances or she wouldn’t.
    Then she whined, “But why me?”
    “I’ll tell you what; I’ll explain it to you when you get here. Now, let me finish up this drink.”
    Again, he ended the phone call. But she still wanted concrete answers from a man who seemed to be a master escape artist. He failed to give folks a straight answer to anything.
    Finally, she slapped on her right-turn blinkers and headed for the ramp that was two exits past downtown.
    She told herself, “You know what; he’s not gonna do me like that. I need to know what he wants before this goes on for too long.”
    When she arrived at the Marriott and parked, less than fifteen minutes after their last phone call, she haggled over whether to use the key to enter the room on her own or meet up with him at the bar.
    But if anyone else was there at the public bar with him, he may have chosen to play another game of ambiguity and have her standing there looking foolish. So she decided to call him again.
    “Hello,” he answered nonchalantly. Even his bland response to her call was coded. He was giving her a chance to talk without him playing his own cards at the bar.
    Beverly shook her head, irritated and impressed with him at the same time.
Players are so good at this,
she analyzed. Her past college boyfriend was adept at dipping and dodging in a similar fashion.
    “You want me to use the key to the room, or…meet you at the bar?”
    She had already suspected his response; she only wanted to make certain.
    “It’s there for a reason. And I’m heading up in a minute. Then I can talk to you about everything, and explain my life to you.”
    She nodded. “Okay. I’ll be there.” And she couldn’t wait to hear him out.

    Beverly entered the club-level room and walked into a spacious suite with all the amenities of executive quarters. It was more than a room; it was
five
rooms, including a master bedroom, a master bath, a full office, a television and lounge area, and a guest bath. Her walk to the window revealed a beautiful skyline view of downtown.
    “Damn,” she expressed out loud.
    David walked in while she was admiring the view.
    “It ain’t much to look at