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“Well, that depends.” My head tilts to the left, eyes low.
Ms. Lady answers with a curious smirk, “On?”
“On, if you like women?”
She erupts into nervous giggles, “You think I’d still be standing here if I didn’t?”
There it is. Confirmation gained. A woman always knows.
“Perfect,” I flash my ring, “What about married women?”
Her mouth parts with shock. I’m sure she wasn’t expecting that. Obviously. But I figure, why waste time with pointless songs and dances? Let’s get right to the nitty gritty. It’s not like I’m hiding my ring anyway. It’s more out there than a plumber’s ass crack. If she’s with it, I’m with it. If not, I’m headed to checkout. Here’s the true moment of truth. How wild can she really get?
“Oh…I…haven’t…”
“Nope, it’s all good. Don’t apologize. That’s on me. I can be very blunt. It’s how I got my husband in the first place.”
The awkward laugh we share eases my mind right as I’m becoming hot with embarrassment. Nothing quite like making an ass out of myself in my favorite grocery store. Her initial hesitance is deemed as rejection, causing me to slowly back away like Homer Simpson next to a pair of bushes. Before I can even get too far, she reaches out to place her hand onto mine. The smell of her Cherry Blossom lotion closes the distance, sweeping me off my feet.
“Hold on. I didn’t say I wouldn’t. I just said that I haven’t.”
My eyebrows rise, “So…you’re down for that type of vibe?”
“Well, I don’t know. That depends.”
“On?”
She leans forward, both elbows on the edge of my cart, “On, if you ever plan to ask for my name.”
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I got way too caught up in the conversation for a minute,” I extend my hand to her, “Morgan Ross. And you?”
“Syren Atkinson.”
She squeezes down on my hand, giving me direct eye contact. Her skin is so warm and inviting. It’s like being caressed by velvet.
“Well, nice to formally meet you, Syren Atkinson.”
“The feeling is mutual,” she claims with a wink before a lightbulb suddenly goes off, “Wait a minute. Morgan Ross? I heard about you on TikTok. Didn’t you just open that ladies-only lounge downtown not too long ago?”
“Good Girl Haven. Yeah, that’s my baby. Just opened not too long ago.”
She lights up with amazement, “Really? That’s what’s up. I’ve been meaning to check it out. God knows I could use a fun night out. Because, Chile, my life has been a hot ass mess.”
“Well, I’m open Thursday. Come out and join me.”
“Ooh, I would love to,” a smile starts but stops, “But…”
I won’t even let her finish, “Ahh-ahh. I wasn’t asking, babes. You said you needed a good time. I’ll make sure you get that. Now let me see your phone.”
Syren has curiosity all over her face, giving up the phone to me. Someone being so assertive with her seems like unfamiliar territory. Whoever her man is or was, wasn’t boss enough for her, clearly. I remember those days. They weren’t fun. And what’s a woman without a little fun?
“There’s my number,” I proclaim in a stern voice, handing the phone back to her, “I open at six. I’ll be expecting you. And then we can talk a little more about…what’s next. See you then.”
That seems to appease her. Whatever she was going to say dies a slow death in her mind. She nods approvingly to my demands. Emphasizing this point with a pulse-racing stare of adoration as she inches past me.
“Well, alright then. Guess I’ll see you Thursday.”
“Yes, you will.”
