AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh, wow. Congrats, sis. Who’d you go down there with?”
“I went by myself; why?”
I eye her. “Girl, you don’t even gamble. Sooooo, what would possess you to drive way down to Atlantic City?” She shrugs. Tells me it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. That she felt like doing something different. “Well, why didn’t you ask if Porsha or I wanted to ride down with you to get our gamble on, too?” She blinks. Tells me she wanted to go alone. I purse my lips. “Hmmm. Well, it definitely seems like it was well worth it.”
“Oh, trust me, it was. What’s the name of this movie you’re watching?” she asks, quickly changing the subject. I tell her it’s The Holiday with Cameron Diaz and Jude Law, a comedy about two dizzy chicks, depressed and miserable, across the globe with man drama. One’s in love with a man who is getting ready to marry another woman. And the other finds out the man she’s living with is cheating on her, so they swap homes in each other’s countries. “Oh, I heard this is a really good movie.”
“So far, it’s a cute movie,” I say, eyeing her as she pretends to be all caught up in the movie. Truth is the movie isn’t that damn comedic in my opinion, although it does have its moments. Still in all, it’s like I said: a cute chick flick. She laughs, keeping her eyes glued to the screen. I stare at her.
After about two minutes of me burning a hole through her, she decides to peel her eyes from the TV, glancing over at me. “Umm, why are you giving me the eye like that?”
“Hooker, don’t sit here and try to act like you’re all into this silly movie,” I say, snatching a pillow from off the sofa and playfully hitting her with it. “I wanna know who you took your hot ass down to AC with. And don’t give me that I went alone shit. I know when you’re hiding something.”
She laughs. “Ohmygod, Persia. Your ass is too damn funny. There’s nothing to hide.”
I squint at her. “So, you’re telling me you decided to hop in your car and drive waaaaay down to Atlantic City all by yourself?”
“Yes,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Why is that so hard to believe? And for the record, it’s not that far of a drive.”
“Whatever. I know you,” I tell her. “And your ass didn’t go there alone. But if that’s your story, then stick to it, boo.”
She waves me on. “Sssh, I wanna watch the movie.”
I won’t lie. I’m a little disappointed with her for
not sharing with me who she went down there with. But at some point, she’ll tell me. Still, the question remains. Why does she even feel it necessary to keep it from me now? I can’t recall a time when she’s ever not shared everything with me the moment it happened. So why now?
I roll my eyes. “Fine, keep your little secret.”
“Where are you going?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her, heading out the room. “It’s a secret.”
She laughs. “Whatever, smart-ass.”
While I’m upstairs in the kitchen fixing myself a salmon salad, I decide to call Porsha. Her phone goes directly into voicemail. I disconnect, try her office number. There’s no answer. Hmm, that’s odd.
A few minutes later, the house phone rings. I walk over to the counter and pick up the portable phone, glancing at the caller ID. I sigh. “Hello, Mother,” I say, going into the refrigerator. I pull out a green pepper, then the sweet relish, spicy mustard and mayo. “Which one of your daughters would you like to speak to? Paris or Porsha?” There’s a tinge of sarcasm in my tone. One I’m sure she’s picked up on. I grab a red onion out of the pantry closet.
She huffs. “I’ve called to speak to you.”
I blink. “About what?”
“I would like to have lunch one day next week with all three of my daughters.”
“Ohhhhhhhkay, so why do you need to speak to me about it first?”
“Because it’s you who seems to have the most problems with me. And it’s you who seems to have a big influence on your sisters. It’s like they seek your approval or permission to have a relationship with me.”
I roll my eyes up in my head, opening a can of red salmon. “Mother, I don’t have any control over anything Porsha or Paris do. They’re both grown women, as I am. If they choose to have a relationship with you, that’s on them. I have nothing to do with that.”
“Persia, what have I ever done to you for you to be so cold and callous?”
“Mother…” My cell phone rings. I grab it from off the kitchen table. Glance at the screen. It’s Royce. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But, look, I have another call that I need to take.”
“Need or want to take?” she asks, sounding offended.
“It’s a call I want to take…”—I answer my cell—“hold on one minute,” I tell him, then continue my conversation with her as I mix my ingredients together.
