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“You’ve said that line since we were twelve.Dayum,Gina,” she says in a tone that pays homage to Martin Lawrence, from the classic sitcom.
“So, Gina, new boo?”
“Yousaid three months, Shanda. The history has been slightly established.”
“Okay, is heold booas in things are getting serious?”
The muscles in my mouth curve upward without consent.
“You have feelings. Cruella Davila has—”
I start walking.
“Get back here, sheesh. As I recall, his name was Sant . . . Santiago?”
“Santino.”
“A bit ethnic.”
I offer a blank stare, and she chuckles. Although Shanda and I grew up together, her family didn’t run in the same prestigious pack as ours until she and her siblings became teens. Shanda’s older sister joined Gabriella’s clique, thus revoking my older sister’s ‘token’ black girl title in her snobby squad. I shouldn’t admit this, but I prefer Steven to the troubled Gabby, who ran with Shanda’s sister, and their crew.
Shanda says, “I’m just thinking in regard toyo’daddy. My parents were fine with my husband coming from a different area code. You, on the other hand, have to marry—”
“Don’t mention Gabby! Steven’s family cleaned her coke-snorting, bitch image. Now, she’s gone too far. ‘My son is 98–’”
“989 days today,”we say in unison, with pompous masks on our faces.
When my shoulders twitch, Shanda directs her focus to where I’m staring at a Halloween decorated tree. The damn thing reminds me of a Christmas tree.
“Gina, are you still afraid of . . .”
“No . . .” I grumble. “Shanda, I’m not afraid of Christmas—ahem, trees. Just because I burned one down, that was an accident. I was just shocked, is all. Enough on that, Halloween is in a week.”
“Yeah, so Christmas?” She arches a brow.
I raise a palm. “This Christmas will be different than all the others.”
Her palm lifts high. “Yes, Lawd! Speak it into existence, girl! I’ll go ahead and assume this new mantra aligns with New Boo. Now, who’s aware of your impending whereabouts for this weekend?”
“We were supposed to go last weekend, then—”
“Steven? Damn, he’s an idiot.”
I nod. “Had to postpone. However, my mom has the address.”
“It’s in the middle of the woods?”
“Yeah. The weather calls for cold. I’ll be wrapped in my man’s arms. Shanda, I can’t fathom how I lived without him—ahem, his arms in my life.”
“Him or his arms?”
“Santino’s arms are this big!” I pose my palms about my thighs, giving enough room to display the ample girth.
“Ohhhh, we should go to the strip club—The Pipeline. I haven’t seen arms like that since my bachelorette party. Please, Gina! And his dick—”
“Shanda, he has a huge, huge, huge . . . Heart.”He’s got a Godzilla dick too, but my name’s written all over it.
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