Mr. Wrong After All

by Hazel Mills

  Chapter 7

  Nikki

  Never in my life had I been this nervous. My hands shook, my heart raced and my stomach was in a million knots. All week long, Sabrina had been laying out her plan to introduce me to Ahmad if he came to our house party this weekend.

  “I’m so sick and tired of you asking me all these questions about Ahmad. If he comes to the house this Friday, I’ll introduce you and then you can ask him anything you want your damn self.”

  I went through every outfit in my closet and nothing seemed appropriate. I wanted to make a good impression.

  It really doesn’t matter what I wear because it has been months since he has been back to our house so the chance that he will be here tonight are pretty slim.

  And even if he came, I doubt if that would really mean anything for me. There was no way a popular athlete would have anything in common with someone like me. Everybody knew Ahmad and I’m sure he was never short on female companionship. Men that fine never are.

  The party was going well, as usual. The house was packed and people were dancing up a storm. The Deltas and the Zetas had houses on our street and were having parties on the same night, as well. The street was paved with Black people, a few wearing Howard University gear, wandering about and socializing.

  Seeing the HU paraphernalia made me think about Shannon. We talked daily but it had been a few weeks since I’d seen her. I felt responsible for my little sister even though it was obvious she wasn’t a baby anymore. I still needed to make sure she was okay. Every time we spoke on the phone, she said she was on her way to study with some guy. I knew exactly what was really happening and I warned her that she would develop a reputation if she continued to hang out with a bunch of different men. She seemed unmoved by my concern and continued to do just what she wanted.

  Maybe I should call home and talk to my parents about it. What difference would that make? Mama won’t do anything and there is no need to anger my father and give him a reason to come up to DC and show his ass. I’ll talk to her again and see what happens. Who knows? Maybe Shannon will get the message and slow down on her own.

  “Nikki, I need you to come with me,” Sabrina called, summoning me from deep thoughts about my sister.

  “What’s up?”

  “Look out on the lawn,” Sabrina said, as she pointed to a group of tall fellows walking toward the house.

  “Is that…”

  “Yep, it sure is.”

  “Oh no, I need to go. Maybe this is not such a good idea, Sabrina,” I whispered, turning to walk away.

  “No you don’t. You have worried the hell out of me and now you are going to stand right here and meet Mr. Free Throw for

  yourself,” Sabrina insisted. She grabbed my forearm and held me firmly in place. I didn’t know what to say or do.

  As the group of men approached us, the sound of my heart pounding became louder and louder in my ear.

  “Sabrina!” one of them yelled out as he gave her a hug.

  “Hey, Ty, what’s happening?”

  Damn, does Sabrina know every Black person in DC?

  “I can’t call it.”

  “Hello, Ahmad,” Sabrina sang as she squeezed my arm tighter, almost cutting off all blood circulation.

  “Hello, Sabrina,” he sang back.

  “Ahmad, this is my soror and roommate Nicolette. Nicolette, meet Ahmad.”

  “Nice to meet you, Nicolette.”

  I saw Ahmad’s lip moving but I couldn’t hear any sound coming from his lusciously thick lips. I was instantly hypnotized by his dark eyes and the tight curls in his hair.

  Can a man have natural curls that pretty or is it a Jheri curl?

  His face was wrapped in smooth caramel with a set of dimples that were as deep as the Grand Canyon. His awesome biceps were clearly visible even though he was wearing a long-sleeved white button down shirt.

  Sabrina’s full body nudge broke my trance. When I realized that I had been standing there, mute, I felt like a complete idiot.

  “Oh, I like that song. Nicolette, dance with me,” Ahmad said, taking my hand and leading me onto the dance floor while his boys slapped him five behind his back. Ahmad was a really good dancer. He didn’t dance with excessive animation or overt sexuality unlike most of the guys that frequented our parties.

  His moves were smooth and unassuming. I liked the fact that he didn’t try to talk over the music. He just stared into my eyes with an occasional glance at the slight movement of my hips.

  When the deejay slowed the music down with Anita Baker, I signaled to Ahmad that I was done dancing by turning my back and walking away.

  I don’t know you well enough to rub against you in a slow dance.

  “It’s hot in here. Can we go outside for a minute to cool off and talk?” he asked.

  Sabrina smiled and winked at me as Ahmad followed me out of the backdoor and onto the patio.

  “So Nicolette, what year are you?”

  “Call me Nikki. I’m a junior. And you?”

  “Same.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Here.”

  “In the sorority house? I’ve partied here before. Why haven’t I seen you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because I don’t socialize a lot. I’m sort of a behind-the-scenes girl.”

  “You look way too good to stay behind the scenes,” Ahmad said, smiling.

  Ahmad Jacobs just paid me a compliment!

  Before I knew it, I was wearing a smile as big as all outdoors.

  “Thank you. I’ve seen you play basketball,” I admitted.

  “Oh, so you’re a fan?”

  “I’ve been to a few games. You’re pretty good.”

  “Oh snap! Pretty good? Ladies and gentlemen, the lady says that I am a pretty good basketball player,” he joked. “No one has ever said that to me before.”

  “Really?”

  Oh no. I hope I haven’t offended him.

  “Really. I usually hear that I am an awesome and great basketball player. But that’s okay. You saying that I’m pretty good is incentive for me to do better. It will definitely keep me on my toes.”

  Ahmad was easier to talk to than I expected. I knew that most ballplayers seemed to have a superiority complex. They thought they were better than most and that only the most popular and most beautiful were worthy of their time and attention. However, something about Ahmad was different. He spoke with a calming confidence that I had not heard before. I could actually picture myself sitting and talking with him for hours.

  Ahmad was attending Georgetown on an athletic scholarship. He was majoring in pre-law but he wasn’t sure whether he was actually going to law school after graduation.

  “It depends on how this basketball thing works out. It’s great to have options,” he said.

  Just as I was beginning to feel comfortable around Ahmad, one of his friends called out to let him know they were about to leave.

  “My partners are ready to bounce. Unfortunately, I didn’t drive tonight so I got to go. Can I call you some time, Nikki?” he asked as he stood.

  “Yes, you can call me. I’d like that.” I couldn’t believe those words rolled out of my mouth so easily. I’d never said anything like that before to a guy. I wrote my phone number down on the back of a Wal-Mart receipt Ahmad pulled from his pocket.

  “Until then,” he said as he kissed the palm of my hand.

  I watched him walk away and admired the shape of his tight ass.

  Sabrina came running outside, screeching like an owl. “Oohh, girl, I saw him kiss your hand.”

  “So?”

  “Oh, now your nervous ass is standing here acting like Ahmad Jacobs kissing your hand is some shit that happens every day and that it is no big deal, huh?” Sabrina said, rolling her neck like a bonafide Black woman.

  “Girl, please. He’s just a guy.”

  “Okay. But you can stop trying to play smooth with me. I know that kiss has your panties soaking wet.”


  “The things you say sometimes, Sabrina.”

  “Miss Jackson, if you’re nasty.”

  We both laughed because we both knew that her statements were true. There was something about Ahmad left me with a safe feeling. From our brief conversation, I could tell he was really a nice guy. But I couldn’t help remember that one of the first things Sabrina said about him was that he was a player. I just didn’t see that side of him.

  Sabrina has to be wrong about that.

  I crawled into bed that night with the conversation with Ahmad playing over in my head and let the memory of the sound of his voice lull me into a sweet sleep.