Noni Jones in Harlem

NONI

Geneva’s been talking about getting into Pilates forever, so finally yesterday I took her to my mat Pilates session. She hated me for it. I’m telling you, advanced Pilates is no joke but fabulous for your abs, legs, and yes… your butt. Anyways, while Geneva and I were at Starbucks, resting our sore bodies and talking about Paul’s latest antics, Carter called me. He sounded excited.

“Hey beautiful.”

“Hey Carter.” He was sleep when I left this morning.

“What you up to?”

“I’m hanging with Geneva. We did a Pilates class together, kicked our asses.”

“Good. Tell her I said hello. Listen! You wanna meet up with me and Tamika around fiveish?”

“Tamika… Tamika… Remind me who she is.” I was drawing a serious blank.

“You know, my homegirl. I think I mentioned her to you once or twice. But I want yall to meet”

“Oh, okay. Cool. Just tell me where.”

He and I made arrangements for a pretty casual restaurant in midtown and as soon as I hung up, I became concerned.

“Damn.”

“What?”

“He wants me to meet his homegirl,” I whined.

“That’s great.”

“No! Not cool… I can’t stand homegirls. They’re always trying to take my man”

“But you haven’t even met the chic!”

“I don’t need to. I’ve been here before. Whenever there’s a woman all up in the picture, she’s usually just laying in wait– like a fox hiding in the damn bushes. And there’s something about me that sends the homegirl into overdrive.”

“Noni, you are actually a hot ass mess. First of all, your man is whipped and why would he invite you to meet her if there was something going on.”

“Well no, I know there’s nothing going on.” I reasoned. “And he probably doesn’t see her like that. But that doesn’t mean she feels the same platonic way.”

“Well don’t over react. I think you should just go into it, be nice, and if she’s a problem, then you can worry.”

“Oh darling, I doubt she’s as fly as me.”

“Too bad for your life Noni.”

Geneva and I finished up and she headed to rehearsal. I ran a few errands and headed back to the apartment to figure out what to wear. I had to choose an outfit that wasn’t too overdone…. I didn’t want to appear as if I was trying to impress her, but I did have to be fly enough to intimidate her. I mean, fashion is a form of warfare. After trying on a few looks, I went with a sleeveless ruffle J. Crew blouse, a brocade pencil skirt and a pair of Jimmy Choos. I’m a short girl. Heels give me confidence.

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When I arrived, Carter and the homegirl were already seated by a window, engrossed in conversation. I sized her up from the door. Even while seated, I could tell she was tall and slender. She wore her black hair in a short, precise bob. She was moderately attractive and well put together. Her ebony skin was carefully made up. Her full lips were stained earthy red, her eyebrows severely teased, and her slanted eyes heavily shadowed. She was wearing beige dress slacks and a sleeveless shirt. I could tell from her arms, she was heavy into working out. She looked to be in her mid to late thirties.

Carter turned his head and saw me standing there. As I approached their table, I flashed my million dollar dollar television smile.

One thing for sure. Her breasts were fake and shoved up to her neck in that blouse.

Carter was the model of chivalry, careful to be generous with his affection in front of the female friend. We kissed.

“Hi, I’m Noni. It’s so nice to meet you!”

She stood up and smiled amicably as we shook hands. “You as well, Noni. Carter and I were just talking about you.” In a split second she gave me the once over.

“Oh.Nice.” We took our seats.

“Your book, I actually hadn’t heard of it.”

I find that hard to believe. “Oh yes well, that book is like my baby.”

“So what are you doing now? Your out of the television business for good or are you looking.”

Here was her interview. Carter motioned for the waitress and I ordered a bottle of mineral water as I explained my career choices. While in the south, I had discovered that I wasn’t nearly as passionate about television as I was writing, so as soon as my writing career took off, I devoted my life to it. I was doing free-lance work in between books and definitely still open to some on-air work.

She seemed impressed. “And you went to Harvard???”

“Yale, I went to Yale.” I hate it when people confuse the two.

“What’d you study, journalism?”

Most people ask me that question, without realizing Yale has no journalism major. “No. I was actually a Near Eastern Languages and Civilizations Major.” I explained. ” It’s basically Middle Eastern studies.”

“But you never worked in the middle east?” she pressed, eye brows raised.

“No. You know what? I studied what I loved. I loved the language, the culture, the literature, the history…”‘

“I just about fell out of my seat the first time she recited a love poem for me in arabic.” Carter cut in, finally.

I smiled. That was precisely the point I knew I had him. Carter’s a sucker for intellect and so am I. “So what about you? What do you do Tamika?” I needed to get the conversation off of me, although clearly she was sizing me up. In the looks department I had her. I’m sure she wished I was a dumb-dumb.

Her cv was impressive. I found out she’s a trial attorney based in Newark and she and Carter have been friends since they were both married. She was also a divorcee.

“I’ll never forget the day my husband met Carter and asked if we were fucking,” she joked. I was the only one at the table not laughing. I think I inadvertently gave her the side eye. “Carter’s a great man,” she gloated. “Back in the day, we used to have some crazy times together.” I had to wonder where there spouses were during all of this tomfoolery.

As my man and his homegirl reminisced about antics with the old crew, a group of musicians and bohemian sounding low-level industry people from the Jersey/New York area I had to wonder. Have they ever slept together?

I had very little to say as the homegirl steered the conversation on memories foreign to me. That is until she asked how long we’d been together.

“Oh, I didn’t realize that. You two practically just met.” She looked him in the eye. “Carter, you must really like this one. You finally gave up being a player with a passport, huh?”

“Wait, wait… I’m not going to let you sit here and ruin my rep with my lady,” he smiled.

“Noni’s an intelligent girl. She knows what she has. But seriously, Noni must be special dear.” She sipped her wine.

“That she is.” He nodded.

I wanted to go. I glanced at my watch. We’d been exchanging forced pleasantries for about two hours now and I was so over it. I could be at home watching Bravo.

“Aminah, you have plans?” He was starting to call me by my middle name, more and more, especially when we were alone. He thought it was more fitting. It was softer than Noni.

“Yeah love, I have a 10 PM deadline for an article.” I lied. The article was due at 10 the next day.

“Oh well let me get the check.”

Tamika hugged me and suggested we make plans to go out, the two of us, one night. I said, “Absolutely!” LIES. But you know what, sometimes it’s smart to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

-Noni