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“Charleston,” Tasha said. “What are you doing here?”
“Tasha, you know better than to ask such a thing at a doctor’s office.” Charleston’s voice was as confident as the green and black argyle sweater he was wearing. It was past ugly, but both he and Tasha knew it was Ralph Lauren Purple, so there was an exception.
“Well, you’re dating my girl, so I feel it’s best that I ignore being politically correct and get straight to the point.”
“Fiesty, Tasha.” Charleston chuckled. “I love it. You should tell my girl to pick up on that. I like a fighter.”
“No need for her to jack my style. If she needs a fighter, she has me.” Tasha’s grin was a full knockout.
“Touché.” Charleston smiled and looked at Tasha’s thighs. He’d always loved strong women, the ones who challenged and were bent on putting him in his place. It provided ambitious arguments and amazing sex. While it was hard to come by this with the women he dated and slept with now, as most were so busy vying for his love they were too afraid to challenge him, it kept him in his car, riding down to the projects to pluck-a-cluck.23
“So, what’s your poison?” Tasha asked again.
Charleston looked at Tasha dimly.
“Look, two sinners can’t meet in hell and not talk about the devil.”
“A little Botox up top.” Charleston pointed to his forehead.
“Botox? Your skin is perfect.”
“Isn’t it?” Charleston grinned. “My kind of black really don’t crack…but it sweats. And a sweaty man doesn’t cut it in my field. Something about an attorney sweating all over himself that puts people off.”
“Well, just because people know you’re lying doesn’t mean they want evidence,” Tasha said, laughing. “So, the shots stop the sweat?”
“A little poison and I’m as dry as an unsatisfied woman,” Charleston said. “Speaking of unsatisfied women, what’s up with your girl?”
“My girl?” Tasha looked confused but both she and Charleston knew he was talking about Tamia.
“Tamia,” he said.
“Oh, yeah, Tamia.” Tasha tried not to say anything to push the conversation about her friend forward. Answering any questions or telling any tales could lead to disaster. The 3Ts were good for gossip, but certainly not about one another…well, only in special cases…and only to another T.
“She’s been a little distant lately, avoiding me and…” Charleston admitted, looking at Tasha, but she didn’t budge…until he added: “and it’s a shame, because I was about to lock it down.”
“What?”
“I was about to ask her to marry me.”
“Marry you?”
“Yes, we’re in love and that’s what two people in love do.” While almost no one who knew Charleston would guess that he was telling the truth, he actually was being honest. If Tamia was correct about one thing during her rant about Nathaniel marrying Ava, it was that men like Charleston and Nathaniel marry in packs—once one got a ring, the others followed (reluctantly or otherwise). And as Charleston pondered Nathaniel’s upcoming nuptials during a warlike game of racquetball at the gym, he decided it might be time for him to get married. With his last single friend jumping the broom, soon folks would become nosy, rumors might start, or he might accidentally get the wrong woman pregnant and have to save face by marrying her. Point: Tamia was the most decent woman standing, he loved her, she was a team player, and she didn’t ask too many questions. It was time to buy a ring.
“Really?” Tasha asked, thinking about the new client Tamia had been all bug-eyed about. “Have you told her?”
“Of course not. It’s a surprise. I need a ring first.”
“A ring for Tamia? Oh, that’s easy—the Jean Schlumberger Bud Ring with the pavé setting,” Tasha blurted out as if she was recalling a grocery list. While she thought the Tiffany selection was cliché and dated, it was perfect for Tamia’s whimsical, classic taste. As the two had shopped for wedding gifts for Troy, Tamia picked out the ring and nearly cried when the jeweler insisted she give it back.
“You remember all of that? Now that’s a real friend.”
“It’s easy. I have a photographic memory—when it comes to shopping,” Tasha said. “So, you’re really going to ask her?”
“Yeah. I am.”
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