here!”
“I’ll have you know that Bernie Mac played the hell out of that movie.”
Nicole put her hands on her hips with a scowl. “Oh? So it wasn’t the naked women?”
“Put in the movie, Nicole, and I bet you I can recite every one of Bernie Mac’s lines.” She put the movie in…and sure enough he did. Nicole laughed so hard that she had to hold her stitches. When Marty mimicked Bernie’s line about white women not wanting to dance for the white man unless they got paid, and then Marty actually had the audacity to scream ‘TITTIES AND ASSES,’ Nicole literally cried.
“Marty, have you ever dated a black woman?” She asked when she finally wiped away the last tear.
Marty loved the sound and sight of her laughter. “No . But I’ve liked a few black women .”
“Scared?”
He chuckled. “No. It just didn’t happen, either I was involved or they were. ” His eyes lingered on hers. “ What about you? You ever date a white guy?”
Nicole’s brow furrowed that the script had got ten flipped. “ Oh, um…y es.” The look on Marty’s face was priceless. He was shocked. “ He was an Italian guy I knew a long time ago. Maybe you wouldn’t call him white , but…”
“Who was he?” Marty leaned forward intrigued, wanting the entire story.
“Tomas…It was a long time ago.” She didn’t say anything else but Marty watched her intently willing her to continue. “I was twenty-one and I lived in…” She caught herself. ”an apartment that his Mom owned. She loved me.” Nicole smiled in remembrance. “She fed me Italian food…real Italian food- - not just pasta and marinara, but fish and scallops and stew. Did you know that? Italian food is more tha n just spaghetti and meatballs?”
Marty nodded smiling slightly. “What happened between you and Tomas?”
“Oh, I had to go home.” Marty noticed that she was trying to hide her sudden discomfort. “My Mother died and I had to go home. I planned to go back to Italy but…things didn’t turn out that way.” She realized her slip and quickly met his eyes hoping he hadn’t. No such luck.
“Nicole, you lived in Italy?” Again he was surprised.
She shrugged uninterested. “How did we start talking about me? What about these women?”
“What do you want to know ?” He leaned back against his comfy couch and continued watching her.
“ Tell me what they looked like ?”
He smirked. “Are you asking me what I find attractive about black women?” She blushed. Yes, she was asking that.
“It’s not in the color. ” That wasn’t the complete truth. H e always thought the contrast in color was enticing , h owever Marty had little interest in dark or light skinned. Nicole was car a mel; neither dark nor light. But he would give his left nut just to see if her nipples colored pink or brown against her creamy flesh… ” I liked two women who were black. I didn’t like them because they were black.”
“Okay. Point made.”
He reached for the remote control and put the movie on pause and then he looked at her again. He was dying to ask her about Tomas, and about her living in Italy but knew that she was closed to the topic. He did have other things that interested him, though. “ So now that you asked me, let me ask you.
“I’ll have you know that Bernie Mac played the hell out of that movie.”
Nicole put her hands on her hips with a scowl. “Oh? So it wasn’t the naked women?”
“Put in the movie, Nicole, and I bet you I can recite every one of Bernie Mac’s lines.” She put the movie in…and sure enough he did. Nicole laughed so hard that she had to hold her stitches. When Marty mimicked Bernie’s line about white women not wanting to dance for the white man unless they got paid, and then Marty actually had the audacity to scream ‘TITTIES AND ASSES,’ Nicole literally cried.
“Marty, have you ever dated a black woman?” She asked when she finally wiped away the last tear.
Marty loved the sound and sight of her laughter. “No . But I’ve liked a few black women .”
“Scared?”
He chuckled. “No. It just didn’t happen, either I was involved or they were. ” His eyes lingered on hers. “ What about you? You ever date a white guy?”
Nicole’s brow furrowed that the script had got ten flipped. “ Oh, um…y es.” The look on Marty’s face was priceless. He was shocked. “ He was an Italian guy I knew a long time ago. Maybe you wouldn’t call him white , but…”
“Who was he?” Marty leaned forward intrigued, wanting the entire story.
“Tomas…It was a long time ago.” She didn’t say anything else but Marty watched her intently willing her to continue. “I was twenty-one and I lived in…” She caught herself. ”an apartment that his Mom owned. She loved me.” Nicole smiled in remembrance. “She fed me Italian food…real Italian food- - not just pasta and marinara, but fish and scallops and stew. Did you know that? Italian food is more tha n just spaghetti and meatballs?”
Marty nodded smiling slightly. “What happened between you and Tomas?”
“Oh, I had to go home.” Marty noticed that she was trying to hide her sudden discomfort. “My Mother died and I had to go home. I planned to go back to Italy but…things didn’t turn out that way.” She realized her slip and quickly met his eyes hoping he hadn’t. No such luck.
“Nicole, you lived in Italy?” Again he was surprised.
She shrugged uninterested. “How did we start talking about me? What about these women?”
“What do you want to know ?” He leaned back against his comfy couch and continued watching her.
“ Tell me what they looked like ?”
He smirked. “Are you asking me what I find attractive about black women?” She blushed. Yes, she was asking that.
“It’s not in the color. ” That wasn’t the complete truth. H e always thought the contrast in color was enticing , h owever Marty had little interest in dark or light skinned. Nicole was car a mel; neither dark nor light. But he would give his left nut just to see if her nipples colored pink or brown against her creamy flesh… ” I liked two women who were black. I didn’t like them because they were black.”
“Okay. Point made.”
He reached for the remote control and put the movie on pause and then he looked at her again. He was dying to ask her about Tomas, and about her living in Italy but knew that she was closed to the topic. He did have other things that interested him, though. “ So now that you asked me, let me ask you.
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