Wives, Fiancées, and Side-Chicks of Hotlanta

by Shereé Whitfield

  Sasha was so engaged in the home’s décor that she never even noticed the tall, brown mass of a man who had been eyeballing her from just a few feet away. On top of that, she didn’t realize how rude she’d been to him, unknowingly of course. He’d raised his hand and waved at Sasha, but she didn’t return the gesture. She didn’t even crack a smile of acknowledgment his way. Although it appeared she’d been staring right at the man, she’d actually been staring at the framed artwork directly behind him.

  “Well, nectarine, you ready to start earning your fuzz?” Norman looped his arm through Sasha’s, tearing her attention away from the artwork.

  Sasha took in a deep breath and then exhaled. “I guess so.”

  “Then let the fun begin.” Norman escorted Sasha into the main room where the party was taking place.

  Sasha had been to a house party before, but nothing of this caliber. It wasn’t a party, it was a damn fashion extravaganza. There were hostesses and waiters walking around with trays of Champagne and hors d’oeuvres. There was a live band playing and a makeshift dance floor on the patio. Dress wise, Norman was right. Sasha fit right in. In fact, she was one of the best dressed women in the room. But despite the fancy setting, there were some real trashy bitches up in the party. Only the host of the affair was wearing a gown. Sasha had yet to meet the fair-skinned woman sporting a short Toni Braxton do. Every time Norman was on his way across the room to introduce Sasha to her, someone he knew stopped him. He seemed to know every single person at that party. That suited Sasha just fine. The more people Norman knew, the more people she could eventually get to know. It was quickly becoming clear that in the ATL, it was all about who you knew. And who knew about you. Some of the people Norman introduced her to were just friends, others clients, others friends of clients who had summoned his business card or who had given him theirs. All Sasha could do was thank God for connecting her to Norman. He most definitely was the exact tour guide she needed to navigate the new city she now called home. The fact that he was in the fashion business as well was a true bonus. Sasha’s smooth talking charmed business cards right out of Hugo Boss pants pockets and tiny little Prada bags. Norman stayed by her side to introduce her to all the right people.

  “Oh, here comes Gabrielle,” Norman said to Sasha, slightly elbowing her as he took a sip of his fourth glass of Champagne in the hour and a half they’d been there.

  Gabrielle was the host. She came gliding over toward Norman and Sasha in her long, red gown, accented with crystals, like she was floating in a Spike Lee joint.

  “Norman, darling,” she said upon approaching him.

  Sasha took note of the sense of urgency in Gabrielle’s voice.

  “I need you. I think I might have had one too many shrimp quiches. This zipper isn’t catching under my arm.” She discreetly lifted her arm to show Norman the problem area that was right under her armpit. “I need you to come put a clasp on it or something. I don’t know what happened.”

  “Oh, no, we can’t have that now, can we?” Norman said.

  Gabrielle shook her head with a pout on her face.

  He looked to Sasha for confirmation. “Can we?”

  Catching on that she should play along with the fashion tantrum, Sasha began shaking her head frantically as well.

  “By the way,” Norman turned to Gabrielle and said, “this is my friend, Sasha. Sasha, this is the one and only Gabrielle. She’s responsible for this magnificent charity event.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Gabrielle said, not even looking at Sasha, therefore she didn’t see Sasha extending her hand.

  Sasha could see that Gabrielle was totally uninterested in meeting Norman’s plus one and totally distraught by her minor wardrobe malfunction. Sasha let her hand drop, unoffended. She could see ole girl was completely wired.

  “Don’t you worry,” Norman said, pushing his Champagne glass toward Sasha. “Norman will have you all fixed up in under a minute.”

  Once Sasha relieved Norman of his half-empty Champagne glass, Norman grabbed the host by her size two waist and began ushering her off. He looked at Sasha over his shoulder, rolled his eyes, and mouthed, “Drama queen.” He then quickly turned and began pacifying Gabrielle’s garment boo-boo.

  Sasha shook her head and laughed. She looked down at Norman’s glass of Champagne. She’d already had her limit of one glass for the night, but she figured finishing Norman’s glass wouldn’t hurt. After all, if she was going to play in the ATL, she had to learn to make sure expensive champagne didn’t go to waste. She downed the drink and placed the empty glass on a tray one of the waiters was carrying past her.

  Not wanting to stand in the middle of the great room, which was more like a huge ballroom, Sasha decided to go out to the balcony/patio area where the band was playing to enjoy the evening breeze. She made her way through the guests, smiling, nodding, and giving a hello here and there. She even ignored the ogling eyes of a couple of the fellas.

  She stepped onto the balcony and walked over to the railing. It overlooked the beautifully landscaped backyard. Even in the dark with just a few lit areas here and there, the colorful flowers planted in the flowerbeds glowed in the night. Sasha closed her eyes and inhaled, hoping to become intoxicated by the scent of the flower gardens.

  Standing there with her eyes closed, Sasha did truly feel as though she was living a dream. The smooth sound of the band playing, the night breeze, and the sweet smell of the flowers below her, all things she’d never experienced back in Ohio, but had definitely known would be the life she lived someday. And on a regular basis and not just as guest in someone else’s home. As long as she continued to do everything she was supposed to, it looked as though that someday was going to happen sooner rather than later. She’d ended up in the right place and seemed to be meeting the right people so far. She couldn’t do anything but stand there and be thankful.

  “Oh, stop it! Boy, you so crazy!”

  Sasha’s serene moment was interrupted by a loud voice followed by a cackling laugh. She followed the irritating shriek over to the dance floor where she saw some tall, short-haired woman in a turquoise sequined dress that rose just above her knees. Her hair was dyed bright pink. In Sasha’s opinion, she had on way too much makeup, from the caked-on foundation to the mascara on her fake fluttering eyelashes.

  Did she really need those five-inch stilettoes on, since she was already an Amazon? She was a nice looking woman. She would have definitely generated some attention, without purposely and overtly drawing it to herself. But as it was, the girl looked as fake as her hair color.

  Surprisingly enough, Sasha was able to take her interest away from the woman to the man she was cackling it up with. She recognized him as the husband of one of the girls she worked with at the law firm. Sasha had been introduced to him when he’d come to take his wife out to lunch. Sasha was glad to see someone she knew, so she decided to walk over and say hi to him.

  “Eric,” Sasha said, as she walked up behind him.

  He turned, still laughing at whatever the tall woman was saying that was so funny. “Hey, how are you?” He hugged Sasha. He pulled away and then looked at her. “You work with my girl Casey.”

  “That’s right.” Sasha was relieved he remembered her. She would have been too embarrassed if he hadn’t. “Yes, I’m Sasha.”

  He snapped his finger. “Sasha. That’s it.” He turned and faced the woman he’d been talking to. “Sasha, this is an old friend of mine from college, Paris.”

  “Yes, honey,” Paris said loudly to Sasha. “We go wayyyyy back.” Her nostrils flared as she did this little laugh that seeped between her closed lips. She then extended her hand to Sasha. “Nice to meet you, girl.” She allowed her index finger to trace Sasha from head to toe. “Love the dress.”

  “Thank you,” Sasha said.

  “You gon’ have to let me borrow that one right there.”

  Sasha smiled, although Paris appeared to be serious.

  “Hey, you’re new in town, right?” E
ric said to Sasha.

  “Yes,” Sasha confirmed.

  He looked to his old college friend. “Paris, you should hook up with Sasha and show her around. You two can do lunch or something,” Eric suggested. He then looked to Sasha. “Paris’s not from here, either. We went to school together back in Augusta. But she’s been here in Atlanta a couple years. She knows her way around.” He playfully elbowed her.

  “Do I ever,” Paris said, slapping him on the shoulder and roaring out in laughter.

  Her laughter was indeed contagious. Sasha couldn’t help but smile. Her smile then turned into a laugh of its own. With a smile on his face as well, Eric looked to Sasha and pointed at Paris. “You’re going to love this girl. You won’t have a dull moment in the ATL as long as you stick with her, that’s for sure.”

  “Yes, girl, ’cause I likes to have me some fun,” Paris said to Sasha. “Life is too short.” She began snapping and dancing to the upbeat song the band was playing.

  “I see,” Sasha said. If she’d been wearing pearls, God knows she would have clutched them. She tucked her lips in and bowed her head just slightly. She could feel the eyes gazing in the trio’s direction, thanks to how loud and over-the-top Paris was, not to mention the shaking of all her assets. With her eyeballs lifting and shifting back and forth from Eric to Paris, neither of them seemed the least bit embarrassed. Perhaps Sasha was being what Norman had accused her of being, which was too serious. Maybe if she loosened up some, she wouldn’t feel so tense about Paris’s personality. Didn’t seem to bother Eric any.

  Sasha had to admit that back at home if she’d encountered someone the likes of Paris, she’d have run in the opposite direction. The only thing the two had in common, from what Sasha could see so far, was that they were both black women. So even though this Paris character was Sasha’s polar opposite, so was Norman, and that appeared to be working out well for Sasha. Besides, Norman himself had said that Sasha needed to live a little. Have fun. What could be more fun than living vicariously through Paris? Besides, one could never have too many friends. Even if some of them turned out to be frenemies.

  “I know they ain’t playing my song!” Paris shouted.

  Sasha stood back and watched Paris groove to the beat of the song the live band was playing. Her body rolled like a wave in the ocean. It would hit the shore, and then the tide would roll back out. The way Paris moved was like magic. But when she bent over, touched her toes, and then twerked a little bit, Sasha admired the confidence Paris had to do that right in front of someone else’s man. She would be worried about getting slapped.

  Eric was only about a foot away from Paris. He was all smiles while watching her drop it like it was hot, then pick it back up like it had cooled off just enough to be handled. Clearly he wasn’t the least bit offended. Sasha wasn’t certain she would have been able to say the same for Casey had she been on the scene. Nonetheless, Paris did her thing as she dipped it low and then brought it back up.

  “Go on, girl,” someone cheered her on.

  Sasha looked in the direction the voice had just come from. She wanted to see who in the world would be egging on such actions. That’s when she saw two females wearing mischievous grins, hee-hawing in each other’s face. It didn’t take a genius to realize they were laughing at Paris and not with her.

  As far as Sasha was concerned, ole girl did not need any cheering on, genuine or fake. Paris was her own biggest cheerleader indeed. Self-proclaimed number one fan.

  Sasha watched as, without a care in the world, Paris made a complete spectacle of herself. Only she didn’t realize she was doing just that. She was having fun, oblivious to the snickering, finger pointing, and turned up noses. Sasha had to admit that Paris took self-confidence to a new level. Paris was all into herself. She was looking down at her boobs, twisting her head around to watch her own behind as she bounced it in the air. There was no shame in her game and she was the epitome of carefree. And just when Sasha thought she couldn’t possibly meet anyone more over the top than Norman in this town, along came Paris.

  Sasha tried her best to keep a permanent smile etched on her face as she watched Paris dance. She remained aware of her expression, and even though she believed in keeping it real, she felt a mask was in order for this situation. She didn’t want to come across as a prude. Perhaps she wasn’t as lively as some, but she didn’t want to be a killjoy and rain on anyone else’s parade.

  Eric clapped and others watched the one-woman act. Sasha looked around and noticed the disdain and disbelief that could be seen on the faces of the guests who were witnessing the act.

  “This is a charity event, not Magic City,” an older woman snapped, then walked away shaking her head.

  The two women who meant no good continued to cheer on Paris while others turned up their noses, some women grabbing their men and running as far away from the dance floor as they could. Some men grabbed their women and took off, just in case it was contagious. The last thing some of those broads wanted was a big-booty down-south girl stealing their man. And the last thing some of those men wanted was everybody stealing a peek at their down-south girl’s big booty! They didn’t want their chicks getting any idea that what they had under their dress wasn’t just for their man’s eyes only.

  Sasha had to admit that ordinarily she wouldn’t be caught dead rolling with someone like Paris, but this was Atlanta. It wasn’t nearly as conservative as Ohio. It might as well have been an anything-goes type of town . . . pretty much like Vegas. Because there was a showgirl right there in the middle of the dance floor. Ordinarily, another place and another time, Paris’s actions might not have stood out so much, but like the older woman had pointed out, it was a charity function.

  “Go, Paris, go, Paris,” Eric chanted like he was at a ball game.

  His wife had told Sasha he was a popular basketball player back in college. His skills ended up landing him in the first round draft of the NBA. He was currently a starter on Atlanta’s professional basketball team; this was probably how fans cheered for him on game night. Sasha wouldn’t know personally because she wasn’t a basketball fan and couldn’t think of the last time her television channel rested on ESPN.

  Sasha shook her head at Eric. The same way Sasha knew, he had to know that he was wrong for pumping Paris up. The sly grin on his face told Sasha that he knew exactly what he was doing. The more he cheered, the harder Paris popped . . . as did a few onlooking eyeballs.

  Finally the song ended and Paris began to fan herself and huff and puff. Eric summoned a server over, who delivered a glass of Champagne.

  As far as Sasha was concerned, that song couldn’t have ended fast enough.

  “Here you go, girl, you deserve it,” Eric said, handing the glass of Champagne to Paris. “You showed out!”

  “Oh, you know I know how to get down,” Paris said, taking the glass.

  “That you do,” Sasha said. “Girl, you were doing things with your body parts that if I dreamed about doing I would wake up in pain.”

  The three laughed.

  “Do you dance or something?” Sasha asked.

  “You mean like for the Falcons or something?” Paris asked, twisting up her nose.

  “No, I mean like for Magic City,” Sasha said with a straight face. She hadn’t been in Atlanta a good month, but she’d been there long enough to have heard about the hottest strip club in the city.

  “Are you asking me am I a stripper?” She didn’t even wait for Sasha to answer. “Girl, bye,” Paris said, shooing her hand and gulping down her drink.

  “Do you need another one?” Eric asked Paris as he turned to try to get the server’s attention.

  “Oh, no, I’m fine,” Paris said. “But I do need to sit my ass down somewhere.”

  Sasha recalled the bench that was over by where she had been standing. “There’s one right there.” She pointed.

  “Ooh, yes, child, that’s perfect,” Paris said.

  Eric led the way. He then fell back, extending his hand f
or the women to go before him.

  “Where’s Casey?” Sasha decided to ask Eric the whereabouts of his wife as they walked over to the bench.

  “She had a meeting to attend for some board she sits on,” Eric replied.

  “Well, she don’t know what she’s missing,” Paris said, as she sat on the bench. “According to Sasha here, a sneak peek of what goes on at Magic.” Paris winked at Eric.

  Sasha wasn’t sure if that was an inside joke or if Paris felt as if Sasha was throwing shade back when she suggested she was a stripper.

  “I hope I didn’t offend you,” Sasha said, standing in front of Paris. “You know, by suggesting you were a dancer at a strip club. It’s just that, girl, you were working it.” Sasha had a genuinely complimentary tone, but at the same time she wanted to clean up any mess she’d made.

  “I do not offend easily,” Paris said, the only one sitting down.

  Eric extended his hand for Sasha to sit.

  “Oh, no, I’m fine,” Sasha said, choosing to remain standing.

  Eric decided to sit down in the space he’d offered Sasha.

  “So how long you been in Atlanta?” Paris asked Sasha.

  “Around a couple weeks,” Sasha replied.

  “Do you have family here?” Paris asked.

  Sasha shook her head. “Nope. I just graduated college this year. Since I have a gazillion dollars in student loans to pay off, the least I can do is work in the field I majored in and make enough money to pay it back. Atlanta, so far, seems like the right place.”

  “Girl, you ain’t said nothing about college debt. I’m still paying off student loans myself, and I only went one semester,” Paris said. “And them student loan people is like God. All omnipresent and stuff.”

  The three laughed.