No Ordinary Love Read online

  Trina slid a pencil-thin microphone in front of Tony. “I recognized your pattern,” Tony said. “It is a good song.” He stopped playing. “I will go first now.”

  “And I’ll try to keep up,” Tim said.

  “Do not try to keep up,” Tony said. “Add to the music. That is what music is for.” He stood and pushed back the bench. “I will go slowly at first.”

  “Bring it on, man,” Tim said.

  Tony motioned Trina to his right and placed three of her fingers on a chord far to the right. “Play two times.”

  Trina played the chord. Hey, it’s the clang of the cable car.

  “Tim,” Tony said, “we are going to ride the cable car now. This is called ‘Cable Car Rock.’” He turned to Trina. “You decide when to ring the bell.”

  “Let’s rock,” Tim said.

  And they did.

  Tony tapped out a beat on the top of the piano with his left hand while doing a five-finger run in the middle.

  Tim caught on and played the run.

  Tony added a rumbling, thunderous bass.

  Trina rang the bell.

  “We are going downhill now,” Tony said, and the song picked up tempo.

  Oh, and we’re really moving now! Trina thought. We’re on the Soul Train and a house party’s breaking out!

  Tony stopped tapping the beat and added a light melody full of sunlight, while Tim improvised and played what music critics the next day would call “power chords reminiscent of early seventies rock and roll.”

  Tony slowed the melody.

  Trina rang the bell twice.

  Tony lifted his left hand from the bass while reducing the melody to a crawl.

  Tim played one more bass chord.

  Trina rang the bell.

  Tim lifted his hands.

  Tony lifted his hands.

  Tony turned his head and smiled at Trina as the applause swelled around them.

  He’s smiling, she thought. He’s really smiling.

  “Angelo,” Tony said into the microphone. “Angelo, root beer for everyone.”

  Johnny Foley’s ran out of root beer in less than half an hour.

  While the crowd toasted each other with frothy root beer, reporters surrounded Tony’s piano.

  “What do you think of our city?” a reporter asked.

  “It is not Brooklyn,” Tony said.

  “So you don’t like San Francisco,” the reporter said.

  “He only said it wasn’t Brooklyn,” Trina said. “He didn’t say anything about not liking it.”

  “Let him answer,” the reporter said. “I’m not talking to you.”

  Angelo towered over the reporter. “Hey, buddy. Lighten up, all right? Sometimes you have to rephrase your question and make it more direct. Tony, do you like San Francisco?”

  “Yes,” Tony said. “I like it very much.”

  “What do you like about San Francisco?” Angelo asked.

  “It is different,” Tony said. “It is the same. It is new. It is old. It is up. It is down. It is up again. It is a carousel with white horses. It is sea lions lying in the sun. It smells like the ocean. It smells like laughter. It smells like love.”

  The reporter shook his head. “What does love smell like, Tony?”

  “Love smells like the old wood in the cable cars,” Tony said. “Love smells like the water in the bay. Love smells like fish and chips at Codmother. Love smells like Trina’s perfume. Love smells like Aika’s hair. Love smells like Angelo’s sweat.”

  “Hey!” Angelo shouted.

  “All of that is love,” Tony said.

  “Are you saying that you love San Francisco?” the reporter asked.

  “Yes,” Tony said.

  Trina looked into the crowd and saw Naini standing along the back wall. “Naini Mitra,” Trina said in the microphone. “Naini Mitra, please come meet Tony.”

  Naini threaded her way to the piano and stood next to Tony.

  Tony stared at Naini’s shoes. “You have the same shoes I bought for Trina.”

  “These are a pair of the shoes you bought for Trina,” Naini said. “Thank you.”

  “Tony, I’d like you to meet my good friend, Naini Mitra,” Trina said.

  Tony shot out a hand, and Naini shook it once.

  “You have small hands,” Tony said. “You are short. You have brown skin and brown eyes and brown and orange lips. I like your hair. It is long and squiggly and shiny.”

  “Thank you,” Naini said.

  Trina covered up the microphone. If he starts talking about Naini’s breasts and buttocks, I will be so embarrassed.

  “You are very pretty,” Tony said. “You are from . . .” He sighed. “I am always wrong. Please tell me.”

  “I am from Bengali, a province in India,” Naini said.

  Tony nodded. “You have a pretty voice. It sounds like music. What does your name mean?”

  “Literally, ‘pupil of the eye,’” Naini said.

  “You have pretty dark brown eyes.” He pulled the piano bench forward. “I would like to play with you and Trina now.”

  Good thing I’m covering this microphone. “Excuse me?” Trina said.

  Tony blinked.

  “You mean you want to play the piano with us now, right?” Trina said.

  “That is what I said,” Tony said.

  Naini sat to Tony’s left. “What do I do?”

  He put Naini’s right thumb and pinkie on two different bass keys. “Play loud and fast.” He put Trina’s left thumb and pinkie on two different treble keys. “Play louder and faster. While you play, I will make your hands disappear.”

  A cameraman moved around the platform to capture the moment.

  “Houdini’s Magic Shop gave you this idea,” Trina said.

  “Yes,” Tony said. He flexed his fingers. “Nothing up my sleeves . . .”

  “You’re not wearing sleeves, Tony,” Trina said.

  “They have already disappeared,” Tony said. “Play . . . now.”

  Tony watched Naini playing her low notes. He watched Trina playing her high notes. He raised his hands in the air and clapped until the crowd caught on. He took a breath . . .

  . . . and Tony’s fingers became a blur.

  “Speed piano,” Rolling Stone would later call it, and at times, Naini’s and Trina’s hands did vanish as Tony played in between, above, and below their hands on the keyboard. Trina couldn’t believe the ease with which he played between her fingers, and his fingers lightly brushed her hands like moths’ wings.

  Midway through the song, Trina distinctly heard the barking of sea lions.

  When he finished the song, Tony grabbed both of their hands and raised them into the air.

  The picture made the front page of Bartaman, the best-selling Bengali language newspaper in Calcutta, India.

  Tony stood and put his arms around both women.

  This picture appeared on TMZ.com with the caption: “Art E. has two brown gal pals now?”

  “It was an honor to meet you, Tony,” Naini said, hugging him tightly. She hugged Trina. “He is so wonderful,” she whispered. “You are so lucky.”

  “I am,” Trina whispered.

  “May I hug him again?” Naini asked. “Please?”

  “No,” Trina said. “Tony’s all mine.”

  Naini looked up at Tony. “If you are ever in Oakland, make sure to visit me.”

  “I will visit,” Tony said.

  Trina pulled Tony away from Naini. “No, you won’t.”

  “I want to visit Naini in Oakland,” Tony said.

  “No,” Trina said. “Bye, Naini.”

  Naini sighed. “Good-bye, Tony.”

  “Good-bye, Naini,” Tony said.

  After Naini left, Tony looked into Trina’s eyes. “Naini is your good friend.”

  “Yes,” Trina said. “So?”

  “We should visit her in Oakland,” Tony said.

  “Naini only wanted you to visit,” Trina said.

  “Oh.” To
ny wrinkled up his eyebrows. “I do not understand.”

  “I’ll explain later,” Trina said.

  Tony again looked into Trina’s eyes. “You are tired.”

  “I am,” Trina said. “Aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Tony said. “We have had a busy day.”

  “Let’s go home,” Trina said.

  While Angelo and Aika did their best to forge a path ahead of them, Tony and Trina walked hand in hand out of Johnny Foley’s and to her apartment, camera lights and flashes illuminating the night.

  “You could stay with us at the Mark Hopkins, Tony,” Angelo said. “We can see all of San Francisco Bay from our window.”

  “I am staying with Trina,” Tony said.

  That’s right, Trina thought.

  “That couch can’t be good for your back,” Angelo said.

  “My back is okay,” Tony said.

  “Come on, Angelo,” Aika said. “Tony’s in great hands.”

  Angelo looked at Trina. “Does that couch fold out or anything?”

  “No,” Trina said. “If it did, it would swallow up the entire room.”

  “Are you sure you want to stay here, Tony?” Angelo asked.

  “I am sure,” Tony said.

  “You’d have a big bed all to yourself at the hotel,” Angelo said. “And the TV has the real weather channel.”

  Jerk! Trina thought.

  “I am sure,” Tony said.

  “Let’s go, Angelo,” Aika said. “Good-night, Trina. Good-night, Tony.” Aika hugged Tony, and then she hugged Trina.

  “Good-night, Aika,” Tony said.

  Angelo stood in front of Tony. “Look at me, Tony.”

  Tony looked up.

  “Get some sleep,” Angelo said. “No messing around.”

  “I will try,” Tony said.

  “Did you hear me?” Angelo asked.

  “Yes,” Tony said. “Sleep. No messing around.”

  Jerk! Jerk! Jerk! Trina thought. I know he “raised” Tony, but Angelo is seriously messing around with my love life.

  If this is love.

  If this can ever be love.

  29

  In the apartment, instead of heading straight to the couch, Tony stood in the doorway to Trina’s room.

  No weather watching tonight? “Do you want to go to sleep now?” With me. In my bed. Please?

  “I am wired,” Tony said.

  “I don’t see any,” Trina said.

  Tony smiled. “Ha ha.”

  She hugged him from behind. “I’m wired, too.” Want to mess around? No, I can’t say that! “You’ve smiled at me twice tonight.”

  “I am practicing,” Tony said.

  “Why?”

  “Your face glows when I smile at you,” Tony said.

  “Why don’t you smile all the time then?” Trina asked.

  “It hurts my face.”

  Trina smiled. “Smiling sometimes hurts mine, too.” Especially when ES is being particularly ugly and I have to smile and take it. “Want to watch the weather together?”

  “No,” Tony said. “I want to watch you.” He turned to face her.

  Trina stepped in, resting her head on his chest. “Haven’t you been watching me all day?”

  “Yes,” Tony said. “I want to watch you more.”

  “You sure were watching Aika at the pier today,” Trina said.

  “Yes, but I did not stare,” Tony said. “I did not stare at her buttocks.”

  Good to know. “Did you stare at mine?”

  “Yes.”

  Better to know. “And you couldn’t take your eyes off Naini at Johnny Foley’s.”

  “She is very pretty,” Tony said.

  Trina wrapped her arms around Tony’s neck. “Prettier than me?”

  “No,” Tony said. “Naini is pretty. Aika is pretty. You are beauty.”

  Best to know. “I don’t know if I like them hugging on you, though.”

  “They hugged you, too,” Tony said.

  “Not like they hug you,” Trina said.

  “I do not understand,” Tony said.

  She turned on the bedroom light and took his hand, leading him to the foot of her bed. “They hugged me mainly with their arms, Tony. They hugged you with their bodies.”

  “I still do not understand,” Tony said.

  “I will demonstrate,” Trina said. She reached up and hugged Tony only with her arms, her body barely touching him. “That’s how they hugged me.” She then made contact with as much of her body as she could, her breasts pressed firmly into his breastbone, her hips tight on his thighs. “This is how they hugged you.”

  “I like this hug better,” Tony said.

  “So you know why I don’t like other women hugging you this way,” Trina said.

  “I do not understand,” Tony said. “This is a better hug. It is warmer. The other way is not a hug. It is a neck squeeze.”

  How do I get him to understand? “Do you like the way I hug you?”

  “Yes,” Tony said. “Very much. I feel your breasts on my stomach.”

  “Do you want me to continue to hug you this way?” Trina asked.

  “Yes,” Tony said.

  “Then don’t let any other woman hug you this way from now on,” Trina said.

  Tony nodded. “They can only neck squeeze me from now on.”

  “Good.” She sat on the edge of the bed.

  “I will watch you now,” Tony said.

  Trina took off her boots. I have never had a man watch me undress completely. Is this what he wants to watch me do? “You want to watch me take off my clothes?”

  Tony’s eyes widened. “I have already seen you naked.”

  “What do you want to watch me do?”

  “I want to watch you sleep,” Tony said. “You are tired.” He touched the skin under her eyes with his index fingers. “So dark.”

  Trina tossed her boots toward the closet. “That’s one of the reasons I am tired. I am dark.”

  “I like your color,” Tony said. “It is a warm color.”

  “I know you do, but my supervisor at work does not like my darkness.” She unbuttoned two buttons on her shirt. “Her name is Nurse Sprouse. She is a light-skinned black woman who makes all the dark-skinned nurses do most of the work and all of the really hard work.”

  “That is not right,” Tony said. “Everyone should do equal work.”

  “In a perfect world maybe, but not in Nurse Sprouse’s world,” Trina said. “Nurse Sprouse is a heartless wench.”

  “What is a wench?” Tony asked.

  “A woman who is not very nice,” Trina said.

  “You are nice,” Tony said. “You are not a wench.”

  “I can be a wench,” Trina said. I want to be Tony’s bed wench right now! She unbuttoned another button.

  “You are not heartless,” Tony said. “You can never be a wench.”

  “Thank you,” Trina said. She removed her shirt and tossed it into a corner.

  “Go to sleep,” Tony said. “I will watch you.”

  She undid her shorts and pushed them to the floor. “It will be dark. I will disappear.”

  “You are not magic,” Tony said.

  “My skin is so dark you won’t be able to see me.” Unless we leave on the light. I’ve never done that before.

  “I will watch you with my hands,” Tony said.

  This has taken a decidedly erotic turn. This man seems to see best with his hands. “I’d like that.” She pulled back her covers and wormed under them. “I’m ready for you to watch me with your hands now. Turn off the light, Tony.”

  “Okay.” Tony turned off the light.

  Trina closed her eyes. In a moment she felt strong fingers caressing and rubbing on her through the covers from the bottoms of her feet to the top of her head.

  As if he’s playing me, as if I’m a piano. “Are you playing a song on me, Tony?”

  “Yes,” Tony whispered.

  “Which parts of me are the high notes?”
Trina asked.

  “Your face.” He lightly touched her face.

  “I assume my buttocks are the low notes,” Trina said.

  “Your toes are the low notes.” He massaged her feet.

  Oh, that’s nice. “But what if it starts to tickle?”

  “I will stay in the middle then.” He played what felt like a series of chords on her back.

  “This is a nice massage,” Trina whispered.

  “I want to play you faster,” Tony said.

  “Go for it.”

  Tony played Trina’s body from head to toe and back, digging “chords” into her back and shoulders and pressing hard against her buttocks.

  This man is making me squirm, pressing, pushing, running his fingers up and down my legs and my spine. This is intense foreplay. He has no idea what he’s doing to me! Maybe that’s why it’s so intense!

  She turned to face him so his hands would press and caress her stomach, her thighs, and her breasts. He has almost removed my bra! He’s making a thong out of my underwear! I hope this song never ends....

  Tony touched her nose with one finger. “That was the last note. You are an easy song to play.”

  “And you played me so well.” I want an encore! Now! She adjusted her bra and underwear. “You can lie next to me if you want to.” On top of the covers where you’re safe from hot, horny, and ready me.

  Tony lay beside her.

  That is a whole lotta man behind me. I hope he doesn’t fall off this little bed. “You can put your arm around me.”

  Tony rested his elbow on her hip, his forearm on her side, and his hand on her stomach.

  I’m not sure if it’s right to force a man’s affections, but I need to be held. “If you get sleepy, you can stay here with me.”

  “Thank you,” Tony said.

  Trina pulled his hand up to her lips and kissed it. “Thank you.” She held his hand against her stomach. “Are you comfortable?”

  “Yes,” Tony said. “I like how you feel.”

  “I like how you feel, too.” I am content. I am spooning with a good man. His hand is hot on my stomach. His thumb is inside my belly button, and his fingers are never still, stroking the tender skin just above my panty line.

  I will not be able to sleep.

  She turned into him, his hand sliding over her side to her hip. “Tony?”

  “Yes,” Tony said.