I began to notice that there was one time a month when the person that I suspected was the real Mike Barker came out to play. Literally.
Nicky hosted a poker night at his home in Baldwin Hills every third Tuesday save in November and December. When Nicky and I were dating, I would usually read a book in another room during this event, but after Mike joined the game, I started hovering near the door and watching, simply because I had never seen this side of him. When he was betting, he was focused and calculating and razor-sharp with his instincts. He rarely folded, and when he did, it usually turned out to be a ploy to put the other players at an ease they shouldn’t have felt, because every time he came to Nicky’s poker table, he went home with the majority of the pot.
A loose plan began to form in my head. I had been dating Nicky for almost three years, lived in a rent-controlled apartment, and had not yet accrued college loan debt, so I had actually managed to set some money aside for my college dream. Not a lot, but maybe just enough to attract Mike Barker.
“You’ve always been a cool kid, haven’t you?” I said to him, the fourth night that he came over to play. I had just taken his coat, and Nicky was in the kitchen while Leon and the rest of the guys were setting up in the dining room. Stage Davie was in full effect.
“Not as cool as you, I’m positive,” he said, matching my husky tones exactly. He didn’t realize that he was mirroring my mirror of Nina Simone. He also didn’t realize that I had never been cool, only played the part for my stage show.
“You know,” I said, “it’s not just Chloe. All the waitresses are in love with you. Some of the waiters, too.”
He let his eyes go intense. “But you’re not, right? Nicky’s still a much luckier man than I am.”
Mike Barker was the worst kind of flirt. The kind who said things with such absolute sincerity that you actually believed him. But I saw right through him, and used that to my advantage.
I leaned in close to him and whispered, “You know what, if you kept this up, you could definitely convince me to cheat on Nicky, baby.”
His eyes hooded with satisfaction, and he backed off. The thrill of knowing he could have me, if he wanted me, was better for him than actually hooking up with me. He was so simple to read, I almost felt like it was too easy as I laid down the words that would set my trap. “You could probably get any woman you wanted, I mean not Tam Farrell or anything, but definitely any regular woman.”
Tammy Farrell had just started appearing in the new Farrell Cosmetics commercials and billboards at this point, and black people were buzzing about her in Los Angeles because she had just relocated here.
“You don’t think I could get Tam Farrell?” Mike said it as if it was a joke, but I could hear a hard challenge underneath his tone.
I actually pretended to think about it. “I don’t know. You’re good, but you’re not that good. I mean, she’s a model and an heiress—she’s out of your league.”
His face went from affable to serious in a millisecond. “You want to bet?”
I snorted. “Baby, I have three thousand dollars in my bank account that I would love to double if you were crazy enough to bet me on something like that.” For effect, I cut my eyes sideways at him before saying, “Plus, you’re with Chloe. Remember?”
Now it was his turn to pretend to think about it. “Things change. I just might take you up on that bet,” he said.
He held out his hand for the shake, and I had to force myself to pretend to think about it, before taking his hand and nodding. “Bet.”
After that bet was placed, Mike continued on with Chloe, but apparently he also did his due diligence with Tammy Farrell on the side. He not only managed to meet her, but date her and after a few months got invited to move into her penthouse condo on the Westside.