Wildwood - Chapter 2: Hot Foods

Welcome to Wildwood's world-class dining center, where we specialize in all types of natural and gourmet cuisine. Our chefs are internationally trained, and  bring the flavors of the world to your neighborhood cafe. 

Feel free to acquaint yourselves with our chef, cook and wash team - they're here to satisfy your every taste bud... 

Our Back of the House lead team: 

Rafael P. - Lead Chef

Catalina P. - Assistant Lead Chef

Kyle J. - Chef

Margaret W. - Chef 

Our chefs and crew will work nonstop to make sure you leave Wildwood with a smile on your face. Top notch skills, the world's best meals - and the best team around. It's guaranteed that we've got the sharpest knives in the New York region...

||Wildwood Vol. 11||

||Girtrude||

Over the years, I find that the Wildwood cafeteria has the best lunch specials in the city. I especially love the New England clam chowder, so I bring my neighbor Susan to eat with me twice a week. We usually stop by the nail salon for manicures - but today we decided to go later. 

I get my lunch and save Susan a seat - but I'm so hungry that I eat right away. In my haste, I spill my chowder on my brand new chiffon blouse. Not only that, I drop my wallet under the table. 

What a sight.

I struggle to get under the small space, but my hand is met by another. Startled, I lift my head and bang it into the table. Slowly, I draw myself upward and my head is throbbing! Rubbing the nape of my neck; I open my eyes and see stars. Soon as they clear up, a handsome man is standing in front of me with a concerned look on his face. 

" That was some bump! Are you alright, miss? 

Miss? This man must be blind. At 73 years old - I am the definition of "ma'am." He was young - had to be about 60, but no match for me. I smile and fix my hair; 

    "I'm fine, thank you. Appreciate your help, though. I could've never reached that purse." 

He hands the purse to me, and I gently take it from him. 

What next?

I fumble through my brain for the next line - but I've got nothing. I'm too old to be flirting, he's better off not going any further. 

    "Well, that purse was quite heavy - maybe you can treat me to lunch with all that money one of these days? " He said with a confident grin.

"Well, back in my day, young man - that wasn't the way things worked. I don't think your skills of persuasion are working very well." 

Hmmm. Why can't I play his game? A little fun can't hurt, right? 

Just as he starts to speak, Susan walks up with our lunch trays, 

"Outside looks lovely, should we eat in the garden cafe?" 

I hook my arm around hers and grab my tray. Nameless Guy still stands there, grin on his face and all. I pull Susan towards teh exit and smile,

   "We will continue this conversation another day - shall we?"

I keep walking out; waiting on his response, but hearing nothing. Looking back, I see the salt-haired cutie standing in the same spot; mouth wide open. I yell behind me,

"Maybe tomorrow? Yeah, maybe. We'll see."

Wow - this is fun!

||Wildwood, Vol. 10||

||Ayanna:||
One of the pitfalls of working in retail is – you never quite have enough money. I’ve been working here for two years now, and I always feel like my paycheck is inadequate. The trouble with that is - you start looking for alternate ways to get extra cash, especially when you have a mouth to feed. Some of the girls on my team do hair on the side, others bartend and waitress at local clubs, some even have other eight-hour jobs. I’ve tried being one of those girls, but for some odd reason – those methods never worked for me…


I can’t lie – I think I’m a pretty attractive young lady. I’m twenty-three, tall, slender – light skin tone with long, flowing hair. My father is Armenian, and my mother is from Nigeria. I’ve always been led to believe that appearance gets you ahead in the world. I have customers, male and female – who will only shop with me, because of my looks. I’ve never been into modeling or anything of that nature, so I haven’t really known how to use my looks to my advantage, until two years ago.  A customer came through my line that truly changed my life. 


His name is Bruno. He’s a 55 year-old conglomerate king, although I didn’t know it when I met him. He approached my line with a simple purchase; a bottle of pinot noir and a small glass of caviar. As I rang him up, he stared at me the entire time, and when I finally looked up, his smile said that something was on his mind. 
“How’s your day going so far, sir?” I asked him politely. “All is well, especially since I’ve seen you,” was his slick reply. I couldn’t help but smile, and my light-skin makes it almost a guarantee that I was blushing. “What are you doing working here, anyway? Someone should be parading you on their arm right now.” He said with a grin. I laughed, “Things like that don’t happen to me, plus I like working here – it’s one of the best paying jobs in the city.” As he slid his card across my counter, he gently placed it into my hand, “Well, I’d love to take you to dinner one of these days – what do you say?” Mind you, no one has ever made an offer like that to me – so I was caught off guard. I stammered and took the card politely, “Don’t you think I’m a bit young? What would we possibly have in common?” Bruno smiled and turned to walk away, “I’m sure we can find plenty of things to talk about” as he grabbed his bag and exited the store. 


I was flabbergasted. 


Needless to say, I had no plans on calling him, until I saw his Bentley Arnage pull slowly past the storefront. I thought about the women who came in with their “sugar daddies,” women in their twenties like me – who managed to get spotted by some old rich guy. Their lives are perfect; lavish meals, European sports cars, designer clothes that didn’t debut at Fashion Week yet. Like I said, things like that just don’t happen to me. It’s not in my cards to be well taken care of. If I gauge my future on the luck I’ve had in my past – there’s nothing but disappointment waiting ahead.  My daughter’s father is a no-show, and my son’s father is in jail. For the past five years, I’ve been working my ass off to keep their mouths fed and their stomachs full. When I told my former boyfriend that I was pregnant – his first response was, “Is it mine?” This was the guy I dated from junior high school up until my last year in high-school. He was my first at everything, although I can’t say the same in return.  Years of infidelity left me broken and unsure of myself, but the issue of our child was the last straw. After I gave birth to Amaris, I signed the birth certificate and decided to leave his name off the paper and out of my life. I didn’t need him dragging me down in front of my child. Three years later, I was blessed with Joel, my son. Shortly after his birth, his father was knocked on drug charges and sent to prison. That’s when times got hard. 


There were times when I was gathering money from friends to keep the lights on in my apartment. When the lights would get shut off, I would send the kids to my mother’s until I could get things sorted out. Some days, the fridge was empty – other days Mother would demand that she buy groceries for me and the kids. She has been my savior until now.  I have been so used to being independent all my life; I refused to ask for her help.  Sometimes she would slip a hundred dollar bill in my pocket as she left the house, other times she would have my father show up unexpectedly with food. It killed me to know that I couldn’t feed my children on my own.
That’s when I decided to give Bruno a call…

||Yvette:||
Last night’s dinner left me feeling a bit wild when I got home. The idea that all of my friends were out, in their ripe, “cougar” ages – having fun and enjoying life – excited me. I went home with the notion that I was going to bring the spark back to my marriage. I got home and opened the door gently, sliding off my pumps and tiptoeing through the foyer. Robert was on the computer as usual, typing his soul away, the clicks of the keyboard matching intermittently with his darting eyes. I snuck upstairs and showered, all the while plotting my next move. Opting for the red-lace, I paired my teddy with black peep-toe kitten heels and sauntered down the stairs. The room was dark, save for the dim desk light and the illumination of the computer screen. I softly wrapped my hands around him, walking my fingers down his chest and kissing him lightly on his neck. His response startled me – as he gripped both my hands and pulled them away from his body. “Vette - you know I’m busy. I have to have these proposals in by tomorrow.” Without flinching, he let go of my hands – now red- and continued typing. I’m not one to be easily discouraged, so I went for the kill. Dropping my robe, I spun his leather office chair around abruptly, and sat myself firmly onto his lap. “Richard – I’ve been lonely lately. Take care of your wife – won’t you?” As I turned around for a kiss, he took a deep breath, stood up and put both hands on my hips. I was ready to go. “Yvette. I don’t know what menopause is doing to you – but my midlife crisis hasn’t taken place yet. I’m still working – so kindly save this for some other time.” After his monologue, he promptly packed up his laptop, snatched his flash drive from the desktop, and marched towards the door. “I’ll be working from the office tonight – don’t wait up.” He only called me home so I could give him some documents out of my car. My evening ended with the slam of the double doors, and the beep of the ADT alarm. The roar of Richard’s Corvette rumbled loudly then faded quickly into the darkness. I poured a glass of Pinot, sipped myself to sleep and came to a strong conclusion.  I need a boy toy. 
All morning while grading papers, I thought about last night. It baffles me that Richard would treat me this way, after all these years.  Twenty plus years of marriage, as I allow Richard to pursue his endeavors – I spend hours in the gym, making sure I look presentable for my husband. Trips to the spa are like scheduled maintenance on his Porsche – I keep myself in top shape so that my value to him will not depreciate. It seems to me, though – that he loves his toys and gadgets more than he cares about his wife.  Ignoring stares, catcalls and car horns has been mastered in my world – I only have eyes for my husband. These designer threads and European shoes – I wear them simply because I want to look appealing for him – and not a soul more. As time wears on, though – I am beginning to think that all of this effort is in vain. What am I doing wrong? I call my girls on conference for advice. 


{{Katrina:}}
    “Yvette – I’ve told you before, dump his ass. Why do you keep wasting your time trying to entertain him? Unless you’ve got a plasma screen as a face, and a plug coming out of your butt – Richard is not going to touch you. He’s on another planet right now, and you know it.”


{{Martina:}}
     “Hun, all you two need is some alone time. Hawaii has a wonderful vacation package for this time of year. No TV, no phones – take him out to the wilderness and attack him like an animal. I guarantee he’ll be a different man after your Tarzan Jane vacation.” 


{{Josie:}} 
    “If you ask me, I still think you need to check out that mechanic of yours. Whatever Richard’s messing up in your love life – I’m sure he’s got a tool or two that can fix it.”


   We all erupt into laughter, and I take the phone off of speaker to cease the glances into my office.


{{Martina:}}
    “Yvette – have you ever thought that Richard may be cheating on you?”
Silence. 
“In all honesty – the signs are there. He’s always at the office. He never wants to touch you romantically. Sometimes he doesn’t come home until sunup. Those are characteristics of a cheater. I would be concerned, sweetie.” 
Now that the bug had been put in my ear, I can’t help but explore the idea of his possible infidelity. I mean, why wouldn’t he want to touch me? My personal trainer told me I have the body of a twenty-two year-old and the stamina of a jackrabbit. As much as I know he likes to work – most men want time to make love to their woman. Unless, well – he’s gay, which is an option that may not be too far from the truth.  Crazier things have happened. 


Continuing my day, I took Josie into Wildwood to pick up catering for a University luncheon. We laughed about the idea that Richard was secretly dating one of the many drag queens that were parading around the store. As usual, I struggle to balance myself on my Chinese Laundry heels and balance the cheese platter in my arms. I look to Jo for help, but she is busy checking out a muscle-bound gentleman in the supplement section. Quickly – I look for a spot to place the platter, and find an empty lane. As I place the dish onto the belt, my cashier walks up with a smile. “I thought I was going to have to rescue you again with all that food.” I smile, “I wish you could rescue me, it’s been a long day.” Small talk ensues, and as he cashes me out – I feel that rush of bravery come over me again. “I’d love to have you over for lunch one of these days  - to discuss your options at our University, of course.” His puzzled expression is replaced with a dimpled grin, as he asked, “Can I call you later? May I call you?” 
Times like this – I wish I wasn’t white. I know my face had to be beet red.
I give him the green light, and tell him that my cell phone is always by my side. His bagger helps me to my car, and Josie hops into the passenger seat. “So, who is that brown-skinned beauty that you were flirting with? You guys looked pretty comfortable. Wait – is that the hottie you were talking about? My goodness, he’s gorgeous!”  I giggle and nod. “Why haven’t you jumped his bones yet? He looks more than worthy to be your boy toy, Vette. If you won’t – I sure will!” We laugh all the way back to the office, but in the back of my mind I wonder – why haven’t I?

||Wildwood - Vol. 9||

||Alena:||

I've been studying the manual Jessica gave me for weeks now, and I'm starting to feel ready for this interview. Been working here for a year already - I need more money and responsibility. I've been dreaming about a new car for the longest - and my apartment's finally looking like a home. I moved out of my foster parent's house as soon as I got enough dough - I appreciated the space to lay my head, but I'll never go back to that place. I had no life; all us foster kids did was rob and steal to get by; our government alotted money spent on new clothes and cars for our "parents." Never going back. I've got a new life - a life that I control - that I created. Nobody's going to change that.


I never knew my real parents. All I know is that my father was from Panama, and my mother was from Haiti. I don't know how or where I was born, I just know I'm here. If you ask, though - I was born in Tokyo when my father was stationed there in 1985. I am a Japanese citizen; I even memorized a few phrases. The life I created. Something about the stories I tell make me feel good, I mean, they could be true - how would we know? 


Maya comes over and asks me to help a wheelchair customer. She walks away, and her hair brushes against my face. She always smells, looks, speaks - so pretty! How can one person do everything so right? Her life must be perfect. I want to trade with her so bad. If i could spend a minute in her shoes, I know my life would be better. The way she speaks is so put together, her clothes are so stylish and unique - I wonder if she ever has a bad day. Maya just looks so - happy. I long for that feeling. And I'm gonna get it -by any means necessary. 

||Jessica||


I woke up with the sharpest pain in my stomach. I slip out of bed, gently, so I don't wake Brent - and head to the bathroom. Quickly, I check for my period. Nothing. It's been three months since my last cycle, and I'm starting to worry. I keep telling myself to relax and it will come - but there's so many things going on. I know I'm not pregnant, so a test would just be a waste of money and electrolytes. As I pull up my panties and wash my hands, I reach for my phone to check the time. I'm startled by a bang on the door, and my iPhone slips into the sink.
    "What the hell you doin' in there, Jessica?"
"I'm using the toilet, you need the bathroom?"


I stepped out the bathroom, wiping my wet hands on my jeans so I wouldn't wet my phone. 
    "You in there calling some guy, ain't you." 
"What? Of course not! I just wanted to check my period and mark it on my iCalendar." 


Hi southern drawl was what lured me in when we met - but now he just sounds like an ignorant redneck. I can't understand where he gets these ideas from when he's under me twenty-four seven. I've got to stay calm, and hope he'll do the same.
    "You lyin'.  I know you was in there talkin' to someone. Why you gotta be like that, Jess?" 


I slide past him and walk into the bedroom. Time to get dressed for work. 
    "Now you know I'm not talking to anyone else, honey. You're just - paranoid." 
As I lean down to get my pants on - I feel a hand and Brent's firm grip on my face. 
   "You tryna say I'm crazy, huh? And where you think you're going?"
I tell him I'm leaving for work, but he protests. Tells me to prove there's nobody else. Instead of me pulling my pants on - I am being shoved onto the bed - and Brent is slamming himself on top of me. The rest - I'd like to forget. 


I unhook his fingers from around my throat as he sleeps, shower and quickly dress for work. Limping out the door - I spot his handprint on my neck - I'll fix that in the car. I'm so tired of this. 


As I sit in the driver's seat, a wave of nausea comes over me, and I heave onto the pavement. This can't be happening. I fix my face and head to work. I can tell this is going to be a long day. I clock in, and see Alena trying to fluff her hair in the hallway mirror. There's an afro pic in her back pocket - but that girl's hair is long and wavy. I walk past and wish her luck. Something is definitely off with that girl. I love her dedication, though - and that's why I accepted her request to train for supervisor. I think with some fine tuning, her quirkiness could make her an excellent manager. I see a little bit of Maya in her sometimes; ambitious and goal oriented. She's got a great life story, too - that can motivate anyone. 


I feel sick again - and rush past everyone to the executive lavatory. I wash my face afterwards and do a "spot check" on my neck. A little green - but no one will notice. I've got to get over this stomach virus, though. Yeah, that's what it is... 

||Jamie||


As I walk to my car from campus, I get a text from Yvette.
    "Don't forget about me. Registration starts tomorrow. Have a         good day!"
Seeing her message makes me hear her voice. It's crazy how she's helping me with this school deal. And I wonder - what does she want with a guy like me? She says she sees potential, but there's plenty of other kids out there with just as much talent - more, even. Is she attracted to me? I mean, I see the way she glances at me, the way she touches my arm when she laughs at jokes I make. I thought it was all a part of the recruitment game. Now, I'm seeing it another way. She never talks about her husband, any mention of him is about what country he's in at the moment. How can he leave her alone so much? No wonder she checks me out - she's lonely. What would she do with such a young guy? I can only imagine. I'll call her in the morning and let her know my decision. The ride from the Bronx is easy on the train; I could leave my car at home til winter. Partial scholarship beats all the financial aid I'm using right now. Everything's so enticing - why should I say no? Studying law has been one of my biggest dreams, now I can pursue it and make music happen. Shoot - I should call her now...


I get home and pour myself a drink to unwind. I bust my ass this week - finally got a weekend off. Gotta call my boys and hit the clu tonight - because from here on out, it's strictly business. I hop into the shower, spray on some cologne, and throw on something fresh. The club's full of tens - but none that really catch my eye. I grind on a few cuties and then situate myself at the bar. My boys are out there getting numbers by the dozen. I have to chuckle when I see Chris propose to one of the big booty girls - he's a character.  I look around one last time for a chick I could holler at - one girl winks at me from across the bar. I smile, and she makes her way over to me. We dance for a few songs, and it was cool - until Uncle Luke's "Doo Doo Brown" starts playing. Baby girl hit the floor like she forgot about her dress, and broke into a split like a gymnast. She turned around to smile at me, but I was already walking away. Classless, just like I thought, these girls weren't doing it for me - so I told my people goodbye as soon as a slow song hit. 


Three a.m. and I'm showered, laying in bed, while my homeys party it up. I grab my phone and maybe it's the liquor - but I text Yvette. 
    "So, if my answer's yes - can I make you dinner tomorrow?"
I lay back down, and hours pass with no response. Guess her husband must be back. I doze off, thinking about her. Dreams of new music and riches dance through my mind. Eight a.m. and the buzz of my phone shakes me awake. 
Quickly, I snatch it up to check the alarm - a little envelope blinks on my screen. A text. 
    "Dinner sounds wonderful. I'll bring drinks." 
My god. Drinks. Exhale. 

||Wildwood Vol 8.||

||George||




After my business dinner, I remember that the guest house is out of fresh flowers. Usually my housekeeper takes care of this - but I figure stopping in Wildwood wouldn't hurt. I pull quickly into the parking lot and fix my tie; you never know if she'll be working today. I pick up four bouquets and a single rose - one for each bedroom, and the rose for my - wife. I'd love to pretend she doesn't exist, but I'm reminded by her nagging voice every time I come home. As I pull out my money clip to pay - a familiar giggle passes by me. I look up, and Maya's leaning on the Customer Service counter, laughing with some guy. I snatch my change from the cashier and watch her walk outside. Her hips sway gently as she takes each step; her hair bounces gently in the air. It's awful late to be driving alone. I better make sure she gets home safe. She hops in the car with  her co-worker and I lag behind until she's a visibly safe distance away. I wonder who that guy is to her - maybe he just needed a ride home. Fifteen minutes later, I'm parked in Soho on some small block, watching the young people walking up and down the street. 


I'm watching a woman walk in the highest heels and shortest skirt I've ever seen, until I spot Maya emerging from an undergroud parking garage. Looks like she made it home before sundown. Glad to see that she's safe. As I pull out of my parking spot, the gentleman she dropped off comes out of the alleyway and quietly walks behind her. Is he following her? What kind of person does such a thing? He begins to jog to catch up with her and puts his hand out to grab her. I unbuckle my seatbelt to get out and help her, but she turns around - and smiles? To my dismay, the two of them slip into a restaurant. Just to be on the safe side, I stay for a little while - to make sure she's okay. After falling asleep for what I thought was fifteen minutes, I realize that three hours have passed. Three hours? She must have left by now, how could I have fallen asleep? I bang my head on the steering wheel and turn to leave the parking spot. As I press the gas, a red car zooms past me. I slam my brakes - it's her!

I jerk out of the spot and cruise behind her car. I forgot to turn my lights on, so I left them off - as not to startle her possible attacker. The route she takes is leading back to wards Wildwood. Is he forcing her to go somewhere dark? I touch under my seat, the old Smith and Wesson revolver is still there. Just in case, I park on the far end of the lot; my black X-Type masked by the shadows. If she needs me, I'm here. He gets out of the car slowly, as she jumps out and runs around the car. I really hope he doesn't plan on trying anything crazy right now. I touch my ignition button, but she stops in front of him for a hug. Wait a minute - was this - a date? Feeling silly, I shake my head as the two part ways. I drive home in silence, rubbing the wood handle of the pistol to calm me down. 

||Wildwood, Vol. 7 ||

|| Maya || 

I get home from work around three and toss my bags in the corner of my living room. When I get to my apartment, all I want to do is unwind and forget about all the bullshit from my work day. A little girl threw up on me during an ice cream demo today - so I peel off my stained top and place it in the hamper. The soiled jeans shortly follow. Wandering into the living room, I turn on the stereo and glance outside at the sunset. My job barely pays the rent in this loft, but freelance photography and modeling keep me afloat. The New York City skyline is a familiar one, but for some strange reason, it never gets old. I enjoy it for a minute, then an uneasy feeling comes over me, and I slam the curtains together. I've got to shake that strange moment, so I light my favorite vanilla candles from Crate & Barrel and waltz off to the bathroom. Teddy Pendergrass ' "Love TKO" croons over the stereo, as Warm Vanilla Sugar washes all my stress away. 

My phone rings in the living room. The ringtone sounds familiar - it's Nate! 

I totally forgot that I gave him my number today. Anxious, I hopped out the shower - my wet feet slide across the tile, and I fall head over heels onto my ass. Barely missed the back of my head and the bathtub.  I scramble to the living room and reach the couch - just in time to see "One Missed Call" glide across the screen. 

   Freakin awesome. 

I pull on a pair of sweats and a tee before I call him back. Painfully, I ease down onto the sofa and put on my calmest voice.

    "Hey Nate, sorry I missed your call. I was in the shower and couldn't reach my cell." I had to put the phone to my chest so I could muffle my laugh.

    "No worries, I was trying to see what you were up to for tonight. I get off early - wanna grab a bite to eat?" 

I've got to think fast; Nate's been chasing me for months, but finally got the courage to say something today. He's got so much - baggage! Baby moms, child, drama. I don't know if I need to be caught up in that. But, the nights of being single sure get chilly - and besides, I haven't been on a date in months! 

I give in and accept.

   "Nothing too fancy, just for you. How's Thai sound?" He asks with an eager voice.

    " Thai sounds lovely. I'll meet you at work." I skip to my tiny closet and pull out a cute oriental print top with my new pair of Earl skinny jeans and canvas wedges. Spraying water in my hair, I fluff my afro, dab on some lip gloss and eyeliner and skip to the door. Grab my purse ((deep breath)), I'm ready. 

I pull up to Wildwood and like a typical Friday evening, the parking lot is packed. The best thing to do is double park and peek inside the store. I hate going in there while I'm dolled up, but I might as well. I feel the funny looks and whispers from the cashiers as I walk across the floor. Sneaking up on Nate, I tiptoe behind him and grab his ears. 

    "You ready to be my date?" I say in my deepest man voice. 

He spins around startled and chuckles,

    "Let's go."

Surprisingly, he grabs my hand and walks me out of the store. We walk to my RX-7, and I walk around to the driver's seat. The uneasy feeling comes over me once more. What is wrong with me? It's just dinner. I can't get the feeling out of my head that something's wrong. I glance in my window's reflection, hop in the car and zoom off.

    "So, where we headed?"

|| Nate||

I can't believe she said yes. After all these months of brushing me off - she said yes. I was gearing up for the letdown while I was asking, and when she actually agreed - I didn't know what to do. I racked my brain for the perfect place to eat, and "Peep" came to mind. Looks like we're SoHo bound. 

    "Swing right and head to Prince Street. I've got the perfect spot."

She effortlessly navigates the city traffic, and we're on Canal Street in no time. We pull up to Prince Street, and I pay for her parking before she can reach for her purse. I see her trying to hide a grin, but nothing could mask that smile. Quickly I hop out and open her door. We make it to Peep as the evening breeze blows her hair around her face. How can one woman be so beautiful? We get seated in minutes, and the dim lighting has us talking in low voices. I thank her for coming out with me and tell her how great she looks. I'm nervous, but I've got to man up. Not getting any younger - and I really feel like I could be on to something with her. She smiles shyly, I fumble with my chopsticks. Food's good, but I need sake to loosen up. Two sips and I feel good. The dinner feels like a blur because it all goes by so fast. We share laughs, giggle about our adventures at work. I look at the time; we've been here since seven - it's ten o'clock! I've got to head back to get my daughter from her mother.

    "Hey, it's getting late Maya. I've got to pick up Naya from her mom's - you know how that drama goes."

Maya shakes her head and smiles.

    "It's cool, I've got to open the store tomorrow, anyway." 

She links her elbow in mine as we walk to the car, and I'm almost positive she sniffs my arm. Nah, she couldn't have.  I let her into the car, and we cruise quietly back to Wildwood. Jill Scott floats seductively through the car speakers, and I hum the words under my breath; 

    " It's the last dance, don't you see, show me the warrior you were

 born to be." 

Yeah, Jill's got it - I'm going hard on this one. I have got to make Maya my girl. I glance in the rearview just in time to watch a car with no headlights turn down a side block. Probably a couple getting cozy at the park or something. She drops me off at my car, and jumps out to give me a hug.

    "I had so much fun tonight, Nate. Maybe next lightyear when you get the balls to ask me out again - we can do hibachi." 

She winks and hugs me gently. There's that vanilla scent again - it's even in her hair. Damnit. 

I pull my Celica out behind her Mazda, and watch her leave. As I turn onto the street, I swear I see that blacked out Jaguar driving by. Nah, what are the odds? I head uptown for Naya, with a smile om my face and Warm Vanilla Sugar on my shirt. What a night it's been.

||Wildwood Vol 6.||

I was surprised when my phone rang and Jamie's number popped up. Anxiety briefly kicked in as I answer the call in my best professional tone. The baritone in his voice sends chills down my spine. 

    "Lunch? Sure! I'm glad you decided to consider our university. How about a grand tour - then lunch, on me?" 

As soon as we hang up - I'm out of my office chair and flying down the hallway to my closet. Throwing a few options out onto the chaise lounge, I settle for a Tory Burch blouse and BCBG pencil skirt. I pull out my favorite Jimmy Choo strappy heels for a professional touch. Goodness! I feel like a college girl again! I pull my hair back into a tight bun and I'm ready to go. 

To be modest, I pull up to Jamie's Bronx apartment in my cranberry CL 500. His community is surprisingly quiet, as I watch him walk down his paved garden driveway. Neighbors peek silently through parted blinds as I smile and unlock the door. The scent of Armani Code wafts by my nose; this young man's got good taste. We cruise to the NYU campus, laughing and talking politics. I park in the faculty area and take him on a tour of the grounds, where we end up at Washington Square park an hour later. I can tell that he's sold. 

    "This campus is crazy. I don't know how I'd ever afford it, so I definitely

       have some thinking to do." 

I put my hand on his shoulder, and reassure him that I'd make things happen.

I sneak and watch him eat his meal over lunch. He licks his lips after every bite - it secretly drives me wild! I offer him a study grant and partial scholarship if he transfers,to add even more incentive - I throw his textbooks on my tab. We eat silently as he ponders over the deal I've placed on the table. I reach for a piece of bread, and his hand meets mine. What is going on here? Quickly, I pull back and fight the urge to grasp his fingers. Jamie bows his head and smiles,

     "Are my hands that rough? Damn, I guess I need a manicure." 

We laugh.

     "Your hands are just fine, Jamie. I was just - startled."

He looks up calmly,

     "Do I scare you, Yvette? I don't think I give off a tough guy vibe, but let me know and I'll lighten up. I know you hear my stories about being raised in the hood, but I took myself out of that lifestyle for a reason. All I want is a better life for myself, and i try my best to act accordingly." 

    Naturally, I feel awful, and I reassure him that his behavior is actually what impresses me the most. I get ready to start babbling, and my phone rings. It's Ronald. Surprised, I excuse myself from the table to answer his call; he's back in town and wants me to come home. I actually hear a touch of happiness in his voice. As I cut our lunch short, I apologize to Jamie and call for the check. We walk outside and wait for valet, as Jamie talks about his last studio session. Like a little kid, I giggle a he beatboxes and raps a verse for me. We hop in the car, and I set the satellite radio to 90's Rock. I can't help but look over when I hear him singing a Guns and Roses line. Smiling to myself, I realize - this boy is something else. 

The click of a seatbelt snaps me back to reality, and we're back at his apartment. We handshake goodbye, he thanks me repeatedly for lunch. 

    "Don't forget about me - I mean, my offer. You won't regret it, I promise!" 

He waves goodbye and walks up the walkway, I smack myself on the forehead. I need to calm myself down, stop thinking about this boy - and go take care of my husband. 

Wonder what he wants. 

||Wildwood Vol. 5||

It's been too long since my last Wildwood post, but I'm back and ready with more. Today, we re-introduce Colleen...

||Colleen:||

The heat is unbearable, so I climb out of my makeshift shelter to get a bit to drink. I freshen up; wiping my face and arms with baby wipes, and applying Vaseline to my lips and hands. As I walk into Wildwood, I can feel the stares from the shoppers. I smile at no one in particular, and hang my purse loosely on my arm as I walk. I belong here just as much as anyone else does. I browse the drink section slowly, searching for the coldest one. A big Arizona will quench my thirst. I collected a few dollars today - why not a sandwich, too? 

The clerk is extra sweet to me today. I pay for my food - apologizing for all the quarters and dimes in her hand. She slides me the receipt, and places an envelope in my hand. "I was told to deliver this to you. Be very careful with it." Confused, I head back to my shelter space to eat my sandwich - I'm starving. I toss the envelope in my bag; it's probably another invitation to a women's shelter. I usually toss them out - my shelter space is just fine, but there may be a food voucher in there. I'll look at it later. For now, this food gets top priority.  

||Customer B - Emeline||

The holistic medicine I've been taking really has improved my mood. For the first time in months, I feel well enough to go outside. I love to enjoy the New York summers; the cool breezes, the tourists. I pull on some clothes, fix my hair, and call my aide, Maria to bring the car from underground parking. Let's go to Wildwood. Today is going to be a beautiful day. 

The cancer has kept me indoors for so long - I forgot how pretty the produce looks on a sunny day. The hues of red, green and yellow make me feel so alive and blessed. I pick up a bunch of kale, and I notice a homeless woman shopping nearby, and a feeling comes over me. I've been wanting to do something drastic for so long - and now I know what it is. I send Maria back home for my safety deposit key. with specific instructions in her hand - my plan was put in place. This feels - exhilarating! 

Doctor Korbin told me my prognosis is two months. The cancer is degenerating my body quickly; he says that soon I will be bedridden. After eighty-eight years on this earth, my children are all married, rich and gone - leaving just Maria and I. She doesn't know it, but fifty percent of my fortune will go to her. Twenty percent will go to my grandchildren, twenty to charity, and five to the community I was born in. Now - what to do with the last five? As I watch this young woman, tattered clothes and all - I want nothing else but to make her life better. She could be out robbing, stealing or prostituting - but she's here. Too much dignity to ask for money, I often watch patrons insisting on buying her food. She deserves this.

As soon as Maria gets back, I bring the envelope to the Customer Service clerk. Five hundred neatly bound one thousand dollar bills, placed in an unmarked envelope. As I slipped the girl a hundred dollars for her troubles, I told her I would appreciate her discretion. Maria and I watched as she handed off the envelope, but to my dismay - she doesn't look inside! She simply puts it in her bag. I fear she may lose it - what should I do now? 

||Wildwood Vol. 4||

||Yvette||

My speech at the University went well this afternoon, and I celebrated with my best friends - slash colleagues at Ruth's Chris in the evening. One veal shank and a few mimosas later, and we were all venting about our love lives. Martina couldn't stop gushing about the getaway to Grand Cayman her husband took her on last weekend. She described the hours of lovemaking, the beautiful suite overlooking the cay, the romantic dinners they shared. I smiled gently when she showed us the handmade coral necklace he bought her.

Josie whispered about the young mechanic she's been seeing while her husband was away on business. He accidentally spent the night with her last evening - and had to scale down the second-floor balcony when her husband surprisingly came home early from Beirut. We all shared a laugh when she told us how quickly she threw his clothes, and her neglige out the window and slipped into an old t-shirt.

Katrina talked about all the hoops her ex-husband's been jumping through to try and win her back. On the table, she tossed the keys to the Mercedes that he parked in front of her house a week ago. The story of how he cried in front of all her patients at the hospital had us in stitches.

All I could do was sigh when it came to my turn. I had barely anything to share. I talked about my oldest son, Ricardo, and his usual escapades from college. The new flooring in the kitchen, a cute watch I bought from Cartier, and Richard's usual antics. Not much to discuss. I felt so bored with my life.

"Girl, you need to spice things up - find a young hottie for yourself. What's up with that gardener of yours - he's cute," says mechanic-banging Josie. "Jo - Raul is barely 18, and speaks zero English," I reply. "Okay - but have you seen his abs? What's Spanish for 'take me now?'"
The table erupts in laughter, totally forgetting that we'rre in a restaraunt full of patrons. I take one more swig of my Disarrono and call it a night. We hug and say our goodbyes - promising to call. Everyone runs home to their respective lovers, while I stroll out to an empty nest and a cold bed. As we cruise home, the Wildwood sign beams on the road ahead of us. I ask my driver to stop in. It's only eight o'clock - might as well get some shopping in - just to kill time. I get a few staple items at first, then I end up going overboard. Before I know it - my trolley's full and almost losing my balance, I feel a hand calmly steady my waist.

"Almost had a spill there," says the deep baritone behind me. As I turn around, and to my horror - my hunky cashier is smiling in my face. I hope he doesn't smell the alcohol on my breath. I smile back shyly, and regain my balance.

"Guess I got a little too much, huh?" I say as i struggle to turn the cart towards a checkout counter. "Not at all- looks like you've got everything you need here. Except - chocolate."
He laughs as he pulls the carriage to his line. As he unloads everything for me, he talks about school and his work schedule. Of course, I hear none of this, because I am busy admiring his physique - watching the smooth skin of his face curl into gentle dimples as he smiles. When he's done ringing me up, he politely offers to help me to my car. I try to decline, but I glance at the three-hundred dollar order and reluctantly nod my head. we talked as I waited for my driver to pull up - and surprisingly, he holds good conversation for a young one. We load the bags into the car and I slip him a twenty along with my card.
"We've got a good music program at my University, one of these days we've got to talk you into transferring."

I don't know what made me do it, but giving him my number was the most exhilarating thing I've done in a while. He smiles and almost instinctively, puts the bundle in his pocket. His soft hand shakes mine, and gently closes the door. As we pull off, I look back just in time to watch him walk away.

Damn, I hope he calls.