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Sometimes a girl needs a little trouble. It’ll be one last time for the road. I grin, ignoring the voices in my head. “And where would you like to take me?”
“Nowhere special; someplace simple to grab a bite to eat, then have a little fun. Uh, you do like to have fun, don’t you?”
“That depends on the activity,” I say coyly.
“It’s whatever, baby. But for now, it’s dinner. You wit’ it or what?”
It’s only dinner, I reason in my head. It’s not like he’s asking me to marry him or anything. “Listen. I’m not looking for a man,” I decide to tell him. Not wanting there to be any room for confusion.
He laughs. “Yo, ma, breathe easy. We’re kickin’ it. I’m not looking for a man, either.”
I laugh. “Real funny. You know what I mean.”
“Relax, ma. You jumpin’ way ahead of ya’self. All I’m tryna do is chill with you. Not turn this into a relationship. Not yet, anyway. I told you I wanted to snatch you up, but, uh…I need to see if you worthy of a man like me, first.”
I suck my teeth, still laughing. “Oh, please. You may not be worthy of me.”
“Yeah, aiight. Then I guess there’s only one way for the both of us to find out. Isn’t there?”
I smile. “I guess there is. But you already know this pussy’s well worth it.”
He laughs. “Oh, and this dick isn’t?”
“Oh, the dick is definitely worth it,” I say seductively. “Still doesn’t mean you’re worthy of being my man.”
“Yeah, aiight. We’ll see about all that. Where you want me to pick you up, at the store or ya crib?”
My crib? Oh hell no. I can’t have him picking me up at the house. Persia and Porsha will think he’s on the menu and wanna know when they can fuck him. They’ll be ready to pounce on his ass real quick. And this one…I wanna keep him all to myself a little while longer. I tell him he can pick me up here at the boutique. He tells me he’ll be here at six. “Okay, I’ll see you later,” I say as three middle-aged women walk through the door. “I have to get back to work.”
“Oh, aiiight. Go do your thing. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“Before I go…where did you say you were taking me?”
“I didn’t,” he says, lowering his voice.
“I need to know how to dress.” He tells me to dress comfortable. That he’s taking me into the city to a spot I’ve probably never been to. “Ohhhhkaaaaay, Mister Elusive. Do you mind elaborating a little more?”
“Nah. You’ll see when we get there, aiiight?”
“And who is this again?” I joke.
He chuckles. “Yeah, aiiight. I’ll refresh ya memory tonight when I see you.” We exchange a few more words, then hang up. I tend to my customers, then for the rest of the day I find myself watching the clock, anxiously waiting for six o’clock to roll around.
Sitting in the passenger seat of Desmond’
s 2010 silver CL600 Benz on our way into the city, I feel completely comfortable. Drake’s album Thank Me Later is playing out of the 600-watt sound system. And we’re both kind of in our zones, bobbing our heads to “Over.”
“Yo, you aiiight?” he asks, reaching over and touching my chin.
I shift in my seat, bring my attention to him. “I’m good.”
He smiles, looking over at me. “So what you over there thinking about?”
“Nothing really,” I lie, pulling my bag into my arms. I realize someone’s trying to call me when I feel my phone vibrating. I fish it out of my bag, checking to see who’s calling me. I have three missed calls. The first two are from my mother. And the last missed call is from Persia. Shit, I forgot to call her to let her know I won’t be home until later, I think, sending her a text, letting her know I’m out and won’t be home until late tonight.
Desmond looks over at me, smirking. “So who you texting, ya man?”
I laugh. “I don’t have a man.”
