Wives, Fiancées, and Side-Chicks of Hotlanta

by Shereé Whitfield

  “Eric had really started to like me and had talked about me and introduced me to a couple of his teammates. So after learning that I’d kept something from him, he thought I was some trick trying to stick him for his paper . . . trying to snag a baller like most of the skanks in Atlanta.”

  “I guess I can see him thinking that about you since you weren’t up front from the jump.” But in Sasha’s mind, that still didn’t justify him getting with another cheerleader on the team just to spite Casey. He sounded like a jerk.

  “That’s the way it works with ballers.” She shrugged and continued, “It’s just that I’d never met a man like Eric before. He was so well put together, nothing like the guys in the trailer park I grew up in.”

  “Trailer park?” Sasha said a silent prayer that her face hadn’t been scrunched up when she said that. Either way, she was sure her tone reflected what her face would have read anyway. “I’m sorry,” she immediately apologized. “I didn’t mean to say it like that. It’s just that, girl, you look far from . . .” Sasha paused to choose her words carefully.

  “I look far from trailer park trash.” Casey let out a snort. “Yeah, I know. And trust me, it took a lot of work trying to look like I belonged, trying to act like I belonged. The last thing I wanted was for people to look at me and be able to tell that I’d once lived with my mom and alcoholic stepdad along with two siblings in a trailer the size of a Johnny on the Spot outhouse.”

  “Wow, that many people lived in one trailer?” If that was the case, Sasha at least hoped it was a double-wide.

  “Yep,” Casey said. “And sometimes even more . . . if one of my stepdad’s other much younger women decided to spend the night.” She shook her head. “My stepdad was abusive to both us kids and my mom. So in order to keep him off our ass, if he asked us to make up excuses about who these side-chicks were, we did.” Casey shrugged.

  Sasha knew right then and there where Casey had learned to make up excuses for men. Sasha had to take a breath. She was getting an earful. Casey was spilling the tea and wasn’t adding a lick of sugar. It was a bitter truth, but she appreciated the fact that Casey was choosing to share this with her. She just wondered if she’d shared this with Eric off the bat.

  “So let me guess, you didn’t tell Eric about your background at the start of your relationship, either?”

  Casey shook her head.

  “Then surely you can understand why Eric might have thought you were a gold-digger. You kept things from him, so he was probably leery that you had something more to hide.” Sasha had to admit that Casey did look like the kind of chick who had something to hide. Although she’d never done anything sneaky or manipulative in the little time Sasha had known her, there was still something about her that Sasha couldn’t put her finger on. Perhaps it was the fact that she’d admitted she’d kept things hidden from her own husband at the start of their relationship. So why wouldn’t she do it in any other relationship?

  “And I understood that,” Casey agreed. “The cheerleaders are like the enemies to the wives, fiancées, and girlfriends. Heck, believe it or not, some of the players see us that way, too; the enemy with a capital ‘T.’ ”

  Sasha looked a tad bit confused.

  Casey explained. “Temptation.”

  “Oooh,” Sasha said, then drank her coffee.

  “Most of those ball players are really some good guys that are just there to play a game. But then you have chicks, yes, some of the cheerleaders, whose sole mission is to land in one of their beds, get pregnant, trap him with a baby, and get a paycheck for the next eighteen years. That is exactly why I’d told myself I would absolutely not get with a professional ball player. I don’t even care if it was a golf ball he played with. Look at Tiger.”

  Both women laughed.

  “I’m serious,” Casey said. Her laughter ceased and the look on her face expressed just how serious she was. “I saw more wives and fiancées embarrass and humiliate themselves by checking those side-chicks than I care to recall.” Casey shook her head. “I vowed I’d never allow the actions of a man to make that my reaction. Plus, I figured if they were treating their wives that badly, then imagine how they’d treat the side-chick or trap hoe.”

  Sasha sipped her coffee as she continued to listen.

  “I didn’t want Eric to think I was the latter chick, which is exactly why I didn’t let him know who I was at first,” Casey admitted. “I didn’t want him to think that I was just some cheerleader trying to trap one of the players. In addition to that, here he was some millionaire and I was making minimum wage, if that, bouncing around on a basketball court. I didn’t finish college. It wasn’t even like I had a vocation to fall back on. I was just some dumb cheerleader.”

  Sasha witnessed sadness covering Casey’s face.

  Sasha put her hand on Casey’s shoulder to console her. “You are a beautiful and smart girl, Casey.” Sasha had no idea how Casey could ever think otherwise. A woman didn’t need a college degree to be smart. Sasha had noticed the way Casey interacted with these attorneys and their top-notch, Harvard-grad-type clientele. She could converse with the best of them. Sasha thought that once she’d even overheard a client telling Casey that his wife couldn’t wait to get together with her again. These prestigious clients were particular about who their wives were seen with, so that alone should have told Casey something.

  “Thank you, Sasha, so are you. But you went to college. You are beautiful and have a degree proving you’re smart. When people see me, they just see a cute face.” She looked down at her breasts. “With pom-poms.” She laughed.

  It didn’t go unnoticed by Sasha that Casey did a lot of laughing. Sasha suspected that she often laughed to keep from crying. “You’re just as smart as I am. Look around.” Sasha looked around the break room. “We are both working for one of the most successful law firms in Atlanta.”

  “It’s different, though. You have a piece of paper that confirms and justifies your status and bank account. I have a piece of paper, too, a marriage license.” Casey sighed. “I married a baller. All people see me as is just one of Eric’s many trophies scattered about the mansion.”

  Sasha saw the hurt in Casey’s eyes. “Bothers you a lot what people think, huh?”

  Casey shrugged. “I know and Eric knows that what we have is real love. After he got over the fact that I really wasn’t a gold-digger after his riches, we grew closer than ever. We became inseparable, and within months we were married. People didn’t think it would last. But our marriage has lasted three years thus far.”

  “Good for you,” Sasha cheered. “Now you’re beautiful, smart, and rich!” The two women high-fived.

  “Yes, I must admit the perks of wealth are endless.” Casey laughed again. “I have a shoe closet bigger than the trailer I grew up in. Girl moved up!”

  Casey’s last comment had her thinking. Casey was wealthy. She and Eric each probably had a different car to drive every day of the week. Casey dressed business casual, wearing office attire by Gucci, Prada, Ferragamo, and a few other notable designers. But she didn’t overdo it. Sometimes she could be in something as simple as St. John or Calvin Klein, but those red bottoms always let one know she wasn’t that average girl living off of a receptionist’s salary. Clearly Casey didn’t need to be working anywhere. So Sasha couldn’t help but wonder why she chose to spend her days, and sometimes long nights, in the office. It didn’t make sense to Sasha. For now, though, she wasn’t going to fish. She simply made a mental note to weasel that topic into a future conversation.

  “So Eric turned out to be the exception basketball husband, huh?”

  Casey looked to Sasha. “Let’s just say I turned out to be the exception basketball wife,” she said. “But anyway, thank you for all the compliments and for making me feel better, Sasha,” Casey said. “You’re a sweet girl. And I can tell you’re genuine, which I guess is why I just told you all my business.” Sasha chuckled. “But I’m glad to meet someone real for a change. I could use a fr
iend like you in my life.”

  Even though Sasha had not come to Atlanta to make friends, it looked like the powers that be had other plans for her. She guessed He figured she’d need people to look out for her in this strange town the same way Dorothy had needed the Tin Man, the Lion and the Scarecrow. Just like Dorothy, though, Sasha was in for the adventure of her life. Unfortunately, there was no yellow brick road to follow. She’d have to make her own path, and getting off course could lead to more drama than she ever expected.

  Chapter 5

  “So how are the people down there?” Sasha’s mother asked through the phone receiver.

  “Ummm, different,” Sasha said, and then let out a chuckle. “I must say that I’ve met some pretty colorful and over-the-top characters. But this one girl that I work with, Casey, she seems kind of regular. She’s somewhat of a free spirit.”

  “Free spirit or high spirit?” Sasha’s mother asked. “Because you know high spirit is just another word for a hoe.”

  Sasha laughed. “Mom, stop it. That is just mean.”

  “No, that is just the truth,” she said. “And sometimes you have to watch out for those free spirits, too. They can be so naïve and gullible and end up getting you into a mess with their simple selves.”

  “Dang, Ma, why you sound so bitter?”

  “I don’t know. I’m trying to let you be grown, but you’re my baby. You are who you are and I don’t want any of those folks down there in that big city influencing you negatively.”

  “You know me better than that. I’m the same today as I was yesterday.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s tomorrow I’m worried about.”

  Sasha heard a knock on her front door.

  “Ma, I’m going to have to call you later.”

  “Everything all right?”

  “Yes. It’s just that someone is at the door.”

  “You want me to stay on the phone with you to make sure it’s not some serial killer or rapist coming to—”

  “Ma, if you’re trying to scare me back to Ohio, it’s not going to work.” Sasha laughed. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

  “All right,” her mother said regretfully. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” Sasha ended the call and then headed over to her door while mumbling, “My mother and that ID Channel.” She shook her head and laughed.

  “Girl, you look hot!” Casey exclaimed as she stood outside Sasha’s apartment door.

  It was Saturday night, and after numerous invites from Casey to hang out, all of which Sasha had initially declined, she finally accepted Casey’s invitation. Sasha figured the girl was not going to let up until she did.

  From the looks of things, Casey was more than ready to hit the town. Sasha, on the other hand, wasn’t. Her phone call with her mother had set her back some, but the real reason she was running behind schedule was the fact that she’d been unable to tear herself away from her sewing machine. She’d purchased the most beautiful piece of fabric for a jumpsuit she was making. It was just starting to really take form.

  The one time she did tear herself away from the sewing machine was to do a little online research of some of the other fashion talent in Atlanta. Who knew? One day she might decide to collaborate, so she wanted to know everything she could about who was who in the fashion industry in Atlanta. People were both flattered and impressed when their reputations preceded them, so Sasha wanted to make sure she was familiar with the names of all the right people. It helped that Norman was very knowledgeable in this area as well. But Sasha couldn’t depend on him to make all her introductions.

  Casey didn’t even wait for Sasha to invite her in. With her eyes glued to Sasha’s figure in a one-piece, black shorts-romper, she entered.

  Sasha hadn’t seen Casey’s abode, but she imagined she could fit her apartment inside of it several times over. Still, there was no apprehension from Sasha about having someone of Casey’s financial status in her modest apartment. After all, this was the same chick who had grown up in a trailer park.

  Casey didn’t pay a bit more attention to Sasha’s living arrangements. She was too busy checking out Sasha. Casey went behind Sasha, eyeballing her from the back head to toe.

  “Well, thank y—” Sasha couldn’t even finish her sentence. The whack on her behind completely stunned her. With a hand resting on each cheek of her bottom, Sasha turned to face Casey. Sasha was staring at the girl as if she’d lost her mind. “For real?” Even though Sasha didn’t feel as if Casey was coming at her sexually but patting her butt in a girlfriend kind of way, they weren’t at that point in their relationship yet. There was still a velvet rope around Sasha’s comfort zone.

  “I’m sorry,” Casey apologized, still ogling Sasha’s body. “I couldn’t help myself. I had no idea you were hiding a J-Lo booty up under them suits you be wearing at work. And those legs.” Casey bent down and ran her hands down Sasha’s long legs, bronzed with a shimmering scented lotion Sasha had slathered them in. “They’re the color of the caramel apples I get at amusement parks.” Casey stuck her tongue out and made a licking sound.

  All the chatter at the office water cooler for the two months Sasha had worked there was justified. Casey’s tongue made Miley Cyrus’s look like an inchworm. Sasha now understood why bets had been placed on how long Casey’s tongue was. Of course all this conversation was heard in passing. Sasha didn’t get caught up in mess . . . or gossip.

  Sasha slowly bent down so that she was now at eye level with Casey. Sasha rested an elbow on each of her knees. “Thanks for the compliment, but if you lick me, we are both going to know exactly how many inches your tongue is when I pull it out your throat.” Sasha did a nice-nasty smile and then stood up erect. She brushed down the front of her shorts, flattening any wrinkles.

  Casey stood up, chuckling. “My bad,” she said. “But just so you know, if you did decide to make good on your word, it wouldn’t be the first time the cat’s had my tongue. If you know what I mean?” Casey winked and stumbled.

  Sasha had to help Casey catch her balance. “Just how many drinks did you have before showing up on my doorstep?” Sasha shook her head while throwing her fist on her hips, realizing that Casey had to be somewhat tipsy. If her out-from-leftfield words weren’t a sign, that glossy look in her eyes was a dead giveaway.

  “Oh, who cares?” Casey shooed her hand. “It’s not like I’m driving.”

  Sasha was a little confused. “Then who’s driving? I thought you said Paris was going to meet us out.” Sasha must have missed the memo that she was supposed to drive. She began looking in the direction of her open front door to see if maybe Paris was coming up in the rear.

  Without Norman’s approval, of course, Sasha had agreed to hang out with Paris. Even when Sasha informed Norman that Casey would be there as well, he still turned his nose up at the idea. Norman knew of Casey, but had never really had enough interaction with her to form an opinion of her. He knew Casey was the wife of a baller and that the couple was paid and did everything big. It didn’t help Casey’s case any that she was friends with Paris. Sasha even invited Norman to join them as well so that he could see for himself that it wouldn’t be so bad.

  “Chile, please,” Norman had spat. “If I wanted to hang out with someone who looked like that thing, I got a whole list of real drag queens I can call up.” He even said that spending time with the wives of ballers wasn’t his cup of tea. He had said it with such distaste she wondered what he had against those women.

  Sasha had taken that as a no and left it alone. So now it would just be the three girls, who couldn’t be more different from one another. Sasha, the college graduate with major business plans for herself. Casey, the petite, beautiful, yet somewhat green baller’s wife. And Paris the . . . well, Sasha hadn’t quite been able to form a description just yet, but she was sure once the night was over she would come up with something.

  “Paris is meeting us out,” Casey said. “As a matter of fact, she’s waiting on us. Let’s go.�
� Casey walked over to the door, doing a good job of keeping her balance in her Jimmy Choo Tartini Square Pavé crystal and suede pumps.

  “Just one second.” Sasha held her finger up and headed toward her bathroom. Her Alice + Olivia Dita mirrored leather pumps were not quite as expensive as Casey’s shoes, but they still kept them company on the shelves in stores like Saks Fifth Avenue. “I was about to put on this new Moonstruck 3D Fiber Lash stuff.”

  “You wear fake lashes?” Casey called out. “Yours look so natural.”

  “That’s because they are,” Sasha said from the bathroom. “See, come and look.”

  Casey made her way to the bathroom where Sasha demonstrated to her how to put on the mascara set she used to extend her own natural lashes.

  “See, all you have to do is put on your regular mascara, which is optional. Then you put on the gel base from the Moonstruck kit, then the fibers. And voilà!” Sasha turned to show Casey the results.

  “Oh, my God. Your eyes are poppin’. They look like fake lashes.”

  “Umm, hmm. But they are not. This mascara is just enhancing my natural lashes.” Sasha tucked her cosmetic bag away under the bathroom sink. “All right. Now I’m red-ta-go.” She turned off the bathroom light, grabbed her clutch and keys, then she and Casey headed out the door. She locked the door behind them as they exited the apartment building and headed down the walkway to the street.

  “Well, damn,” Sasha said, stopping in her tracks as they approached a vehicle. “A Hummer limo for a regular girls’ night out?” Sasha questioned as she eyeballed the black Hummer limousine. The driver stood at the back door with it opened for the ladies to climb in.

  “This is how my baby Eric does it for his wifey,” Casey said, the first to climb in.