82 Desire

shod. Darryl was on the other side, in jeans and a sports shirt with a button-down collar. He wasn’t Talba’s usual type at all, but his handsome face made up for it.
    As if reading her mind, he said, “Sorry, I forgot my dreads.”
    Talba said, “Come on in. I want you to meet my mama—I may never have another opportunity like this.”
    When Miz Clara came out, she’d not only put on shoes but a clean blouse and an ear-to-ear smile—or maybe the smile came after she got a gander at Darryl. She came right over and stuck out her hand. “Hello. I’m Clara Wallis.”
    She just could not stop beaming.
    Talba was surprised at how deeply embarrassed she was. “Mama, we’ve got to go.”
    Her mother slipped back into neutral. She said automatically, “Y’all have fun now,” but her gaze followed them all the way down the walk.
    Darryl said, “That poor lady! I wanted to tell her how sorry I am about that doctor.”
    Talba said, “What doctor?”
    “Your Pill Man. The one who named you.”
    “Omigod.”
    “What?”
    “I forgot for a minute. Usually, I’m obsessed with it. I almost never meet anyone new that I don’t think about it. ‘What would he think if he knew my real name?’ It makes you feel shitty to have a name like that. Like you don’t deserve any better.”
    Darryl looked over at her. “Well, I’m not new. We’ve seen each other twice before.”
    Talba couldn’t think of what to say in reply. Was he setting her up to get in her pants? (Third date, almost. )
    Or just making conversation? She was aware of a fluttery, ill-at-ease feeling.
    Darryl said, “What’s the matter?”
    “I don’t know. I’m nervous, I guess.”
    “Yeah, well. Girl named Urethra ought to be.”
    She said, “Where are we going?”
    “To tell you the truth, your outfit’s given me a real craving. How about the African place on Carrollton?”
    “Benachin! Great idea.”
    It was a modest place, but atmospheric, and in some ways not unlike the place they’d met—a perfect place for a first real date. Not contrived, but a little romantic.
    Darryl seemed almost simplistically happy. “This is great, you know that? This is really great. I was supposed to play a gig tonight, but it got cancelled. This is so rare—mmmmmm.”
    “What’s rare?”
    “Getting a night off in the middle of the week. Usually I’m bartending or playing a gig.”
    “Must play hell with your social life.”
    “Social life? I have no social life.”
    Was he telling her something? Talba assumed he didn’t have a girlfriend, or what was he doing with her? But then, she did have a boyfriend. It took guts to ask out someone who did.
    “Well, I was kind of wondering,” she said, “why you wanted to see me tonight.”
    “Don’t you know?”
    “No.” Don’t say you want to get in my pants.
    “You’re an interesting woman—and I really like interesting women.”
    “You must meet lots of them. They say there are a lot more single black women than men.”
    “I think that’s more eligible black men—there’s a difference.”
    “What makes you so eligible?”
    He took a sip of beer. “Well, I’m not sure I am. I have a child to support, three jobs, no free time, no money—”
    “Hey, I hope you’re planning to pay for dinner.”
    He laughed. “I figure even I make more than a poet. But then again, you have some mysterious other gig—maybe you’re a cat burglar.”
    She shook her head. “Uh-uh. Remember, I said it’s mostly legal. Right now, though”—she raised her palms, as if in apology—”right now I’m just doing some computer tech work.” She made a face. “Seriously boring.”
    “I thought you were taking a break from all that.”
    “I am—from programming and software designing. This is just temp work.”
    He looked puzzled. “What’s the firm?”
    “Oh, just an oil company.” Almost immediately, she saw her mistake. An odd, startled expression flickered briefly on his face, the kind people get when they run into an old acquaintance with a new spouse. Quickly, lest her silence seem suspicious, she said, “United. They’re putting in a bunch of new workstations.”
    “I don’t understand why you’re doing it—it can’t pay as much as what you usually do.”
    “Yeah, but it’s easy work to get and good for pocket money.”
    “Isn’t United where Russell Fortier worked?”
    “Oh, law. As my Aunt Larcenia used to say. That’s all they talk about over there.”
    “Larcenia! You’ve