A Sweet Cookie

October 10, 2012 at 2:22 pm (Cussed Dumbers, Sweet sticky things)

Rain and I were sharing the bathroom after an intimate lunch. My cell phone rang, with Meg’s unique ringtone. I looked at Rain, made a “Shh” gesture with index finger to lips, and answered.

When I rang off, Rain was giving me the look. You know, the look. The one that says there’d better be some spectacular bullshit coming out of your mouth in 3…2… “Why I gotta be quiet? Is that your girlfriend?” She pronounced it gurrrrrlfrenn.

“No, dear. But I’m trying to talk her out of some money, and it’ll be easier if she doesn’t think I’m going to be spending it on you.”

“What you need her money for?”

“Never mind.”

A guy’s gotta have some secrets. Rain has been busy trying to figure out mine…

A most-pleasant perk of my job? The endless parade of beautiful women. (There are a million also-rans, but we just call them cussed-dumbers.) I’m shameless when it comes to flirting, and the women in my life know it. It doesn’t mean they don’t give me grief about it.

One of my favorite customers is Cookie. She is a beautiful black woman, about my age, who comes downtown once a week to drink and blow off steam. A couple months back she came in, sad and pouty because I had neither her favorite lottery tickets or dark chocolate. “And no Hershey’s Kisses?” She stood in the back of the store and mock-wailed, “What’s a sistah gotta do to get a kiss around here?”

I showed remarkable restraint. AMAZING restraint. I apologized for the lack of chocolate and lottery, while maintaining the aire of a perfect gentleman and keeping my lips to myself.

And kicking my own ass for it ever since.

The very next day I went to Freddy’s and bought a giant bag of Hershey’s Dark Chocolate Kisses. Wrapped them in custom-designed paper bag with a horrible drawing of the Cookie Monster on front. Sat them in the back room with my stuff and waited.

For six weeks.

When I discovered Meg loves dark chocolate, (“And scotch, don’t forget the scotch!”) I took the bag to her place. We shared, just the chocolate.

The very next night, guess who shows up after six weeks absence? “Hi, Cookie!”

I told her the story, and she promised to come around more often. I told her I would try to bring her kisses next week, and forgot about it.

Until a couple nights ago, when Rain and I were standing in front of the store, waiting for the final moments to tick off to midnight, and I gazed up the train tracks. I saw Cookie’s figure approaching in the distance, and smiled at Rain. This oughta be fun.

Rain noticed my expression. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s Cookie, one of my favorite customers.”

“Cookie, huh? That’s not her name. HI GURRRL!”

As Cookie got close enough to recognize her, “Oh, hey Rain! How you been?”

They exchanged pleasantries, and Rain said, “I’m just here visiting my friend.” She pronounced it frenn, all sultry and stuff. I imagined them in bed together, with me as the creamy filling.

“It seems our friend has a taste for fine black women…” Cookie made it a short visit, and Rain was smirking at me after she left.

“Cookie, huh. That’s not her real name.”

“You know her?”

“Yeapper. We went to school together.”

“No shit?”

“She’s two years older than me. And I don’t think that’s her real hair. Although she always did have pretty, long hair…” Rain reminded me twice more that night about her being two years younger than Cookie. Meow!

Then last night rolls around. Rain was feeling frisky and called me over for lunchtime “couples counseling.” I went back to work thirty minutes late and smelling like heaven, but in a fantastic mood. Weird Steven rolled his eyes and left me alone for the last two hours of shift.

I stood on the train platform, flirting with Morley, the buxom Scandinavian cocktail waitress from the saloon around the corner. (Weird Steven calls her 2-year-old son the best fed kid in America.(@)(@) ) I leaned against a lamppost. Cookie walked up next to me and gave a nudge to the ribs. “Lookin’ all smooth leaning up against the pole, you…” she purred.

“You’re looking mighty fine yourself, Miss Cookie.” We all wandered inside, Morley bought cigarettes and poofed into the midnight air once she caught the flirtatious vibe. (Yay wingman!) Cookie and I shot back and forth, and then Rain walked in.

“Hey baby,” she said. She glanced at Cookie and said hi.

Cookie said, “Mm hmm.” Cookie bid me a pleasant good night and also poofed into the midnight air.

Rain had the biggest grin on her face the rest of the night. I don’t know what caused it, but she looked like the cat that ate the canary.

A girl should have her secrets, too.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: