“You are the best kisser in the whole wide world,” Terrance said to Sasha. He’d stopped kissing her, but was still so close that his lips grazed hers when he spoke.
“And how would you know?” Sasha asked, staring passionately into Terrance’s eyes. It was then that she thought she’d noticed one of his eyes were crossed. But then again, maybe it was her eyes crossing because they were so close and she was trying to stare at him. “You kissed every woman in the world?”
“Yes,” Terrance started, “because in my opinion, baby, you are every woman.” Terrance went in for another passionate kiss. This time Sasha grabbed him by the back of his head and caressed it while their tongues danced.
“Get a room, why don’t you? There are kids in the park, for crying out loud!” a jogger said as he passed Sasha and Terrance.
The two parted while laughing.
“He’s just jealous that he’s not the one kissing you,” Terrance said, wiping Sasha’s lip gloss off his mouth. “Anyway, you sure you don’t want to go to a restaurant, grab something to eat?”
Sasha quickly put her hands up and shook her head. “Oh no,” she said. “Nowhere where there is a bathroom, especially with the way you got me feeling now.”
Terrance laughed, even though Sasha couldn’t have been more serious. “And how do I have you feeling?”
Sasha thought for a moment, then she said, “Boy, you got me feeling some kind of way,” and on that note, Sasha began walking away again with the hugest smile ever on her face. It got even bigger when she didn’t feel Terrance walking immediately behind her. Those lacy black panties were surely doing their job.
“What’s the matter, can’t keep up with me?” Sasha shot over her shoulder, knowing darn well Terrance preferred not to.
“I can keep up. It’s just the view from where I’m at. Ump, ump, ump.” He shook his head.
Sasha put a little dip in her hips.
“See, now you are playing,” Terrance said. “I guess I had you pegged all wrong.”
Sasha turned and faced Terrance as she continued walking backward. “How so?”
“You do like to play.” He licked his lips and nodded, almost knowingly.
Sasha raised her eyebrows, gave Terrance a naughty look, and then turned forward and continued strutting. After a couple strides, Sasha shot Terrance a glance over her shoulder. He was rubbing his hands together, watching her every move. He stared at Sasha as if he were the lion and she his prey. Now looking straight ahead, perhaps Sasha should have kept her eyes on the lion a little longer.
When Sasha walked into her apartment after her first official date with Terrance—their first night together didn’t count, for Sasha had already killed it in her mind and buried it in ho heaven as Norman had instructed her to do—she was still definitely feeling some kind of way. She was having a hard time categorizing the date as good, bad, or in between. It was good in the sense that Terrance had shown her the best romantic afternoon possible. What woman didn’t enjoy a nice stroll in the park on a beautiful day; not to mention the bouquet of flowers he purchased for her from a vendor along the way? Then of course there was the Ferris wheel ride and the ice cream cone. They each had removed their shoes long enough to get their toes wet in the fountain. It was something straight out of a romance novel. And it couldn’t have been written any better had Brenda Jackson, the queen of romance novels, penned it herself.
Terrance had truly outdone himself as a gentleman extraordinaire, making any other date Sasha had ever been on comparable to an ordinary trip to Mickey D’s. But it had been bad in the sense that Terrance exposed some things about himself on this date that did not line up with Sasha’s list. She’d have to erase a couple mental checkmarks. Come to find that Terrance didn’t love the Lord as much as she’d thought after all. During their walk in the park they’d copped a squat on a bench to chat it up. When Sasha had asked, Terrance couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been to church. Sasha didn’t hold that against him. Although she’d gone to church on occasion with her mother, that was the gist of it. She didn’t serve on the usher board or anything like that.
When Sasha had asked Terrance if he prayed regularly, his response was, “You know it; right before every game.”
“Ugh,” Sasha said out loud just thinking about it. Not being able to check something off the list of what her man had to have felt equivalent to having to check Terrance out of her life. But he was so cute. He was so handsome. He was so sexy, caring, attentive, and kind. The brotha was smooth. What else could she say? The good definitely outweighed the bad. And the very good . . . well . . .
Sasha flung her purse onto the couch and then flopped down right beside it. She really had to think this thing through. To the average person this might not have been serious, but need it be repeated that Sasha wasn’t the average person? Everything in her life had to line up as planned. Getting off course with even the slightest little matter could mean her entire life taking a detour, which could lead to pure disaster. It was no secret that sometimes when people got off course in life, it could either be hell getting back on course, or the person could stray completely from their vision altogether. As fine as Terrance was, Sasha just didn’t know if she could risk all she’d worked hard for . . . for love.
She let out a tsk and flung her hand out as she stood up from the couch. “Love? I don’t even know if I like him, and here I am thinking about love.” She could try to fool herself all she wanted about Terrance, but the fact that he was occupying so much of her mind space was a pure sign right there that she liked him all right.
“Okay, so I like him,” she admitted to herself. “Now what?”
The “now what” was the fact that she needed to justify keeping Terrance on her list even though he didn’t meet everything on her husband material list.
Okay, well, loving the Lord didn’t necessarily mean one had to be up in church every Sunday, did it? Was it possible that finding a church home together was something they could add to their list of things to do, or even go on a date to church? Sasha posed these questions to herself silently in her head. She’d never done so much talking to herself in her entire life since moving to Atlanta to live by herself. She decided to table the one-sided conversation until after she showered and changed into her nightclothes.
Fifteen minutes later, Sasha climbed into her bed and back into her head. Thoughts of Terrance and the whole church issue were still on her mind. Yes, Sasha had attended church with her mother back in her hometown. But in the six months she’d been in Atlanta, she certainly hadn’t bothered to find a church home. Perhaps it was the fact that choosing a church in Atlanta was just as difficult as choosing a place to grab a bite to eat. The franchises were endless. Perhaps she and Terrance could find a church home together, one they’d ultimately join and even get married in some day.
Sasha popped up in bed as sweat beads formed on her forehead. She looked around the room, her eyes landing on the digital alarm clock that rested on her nightstand. It was 10:53 p.m. That was just two minutes since she’d climbed in the bed and lain down. Not long enough to fall into a deep sleep and start dreaming, which only meant one thing. She hadn’t actually been dreaming, she’d been daydreaming about actually marrying Terrance. And all this after only one date.
“No!” Sasha scolded herself, whipping the covers off of her and jumping up out of bed. The daydream now felt more like a nightmare in Sasha’s mind. She had daydreams about fabrics, designs for what the marquee outside her first boutique would look like . . . not men. Okay, so after seeing the movie Magic Mike perhaps she did have a couple daydreams about being pulled up on stage by the male strippers and being pumped in the air. But that was different. She was now fantasizing about one man in particular. Now not only was she visualizing being pulled on stage by male strippers, but it was at her own bachelorette party.
“No!” Sasha yelled out to herself again, this time even spanking the back of her own hand. “Bad girl.” She shook her hea
d. “Get it together. Girl, get your thoughts together.” As Sasha paced, she regretted the day she’d signed the lease to her apartment even more. She should have never settled for a place without a tub, because right now more than anything she needed one of those long bubble baths to get her mind right. Instead she’d have to settle for a shower . . . a cold one! Because that was the only thing that was going to cool her down when it came to Terrance. Either that, or the shade that was about to be thrown her way about the man of her daydreams from one of her so-called friends.
Chapter 13
Sasha was surprised when Paris sent her a text asking her if she wanted to meet out for a Saturday afternoon brunch. What was so surprising was that it hadn’t been a group text that included Casey; not only included Casey but had been initiated by Casey. Usually the only time Sasha ever met up with Paris was when Casey set it up. Even though it caught Sasha off guard, she still accepted the invite. She and Casey weren’t joined at the hip. There was no good reason why Sasha couldn’t hang out with Paris without their mutual friend being present. Sasha saw it as an opportunity to form a relationship with Paris outside of the one they shared with Casey. After all, Sasha had nothing against Paris. She really liked her and thought she was a hoot. There was never a dull moment as long as Paris was around. Of course she’d never share how she really felt with Norman. He was far too territorial. But he didn’t give Sasha the blues about hanging out with Casey half as much as he did when it came to Paris. But Sasha wasn’t going to let Norman’s thing with Paris keep her from hanging out with the girl.
As Sasha approached the club–like pizza restaurant, she hoped there would be no awkward moments trying to keep up a conversation with Paris. Up until now the only thing Sasha knew for sure that she and Paris had in common was the fact that they were both friends with Casey. Hopefully that wouldn’t turn out to be the only thing, or else this would make for one long outing.
When Sasha walked in, she was greeted by the hostess. Sasha was in the process of asking for a table for two when she saw Paris already sitting at a table.
“Never mind,” Sasha told the waitress. “I see the other member of my party.”
The waitress smiled and nodded as Sasha made her way back to the table Paris was sitting at. As she approached the table, she noticed that Paris was sipping on a mimosa.
“You started without me?” Sasha jokingly asked. She was about to open her arms for a hug. Perhaps it was an Atlanta thing, but Sasha had taken note that every time the three of them met up, they always greeted one another with a hug, did the once-over, and then complimented each other on something such as their hair, shoes, or outfit. Strangely, Paris didn’t even stand up, let alone open her arms to embrace Sasha for a hug.
Although Sasha thought it odd, she didn’t take it to heart. Maybe it was really just a Casey thing and since Casey wasn’t here, Paris didn’t feel the need to do it. Sasha would have these girls’ MOs down to a science soon enough.
Once she realized that Paris wasn’t going to open her arms for a hug, Sasha pulled out her chair and sat.
“Thank you for inviting me.” Sasha looked around at the chic spot. “Mimosas and pizza. Nice.”
“Umm hmm,” Paris said with her lips pushed out and her eyelids low. “Nice,” she mocked Sasha. “So I guess I better appreciate the niceness of this here place.” Now she looked around. “Because not everything is nice. I mean, some people try to make like they nice, but then the minute you turn your back they talking about you like a dog.”
An immediate chill rushed through Sasha’s being. This time there was no confusion or question about it. Miss Paris baby was throwing shade and snowballs. Call her Ice Queen because Sasha was frozen; at least her words were frozen in her throat anyway.
“Can I get you something to drink?” The waitress wearing skimpy, tight black shorts with a tight black tee shirt approached their table and addressed only Sasha. Paris’s glass was still more than half full.
Sasha didn’t even want to respond to the waitress. She wanted to respond to what Paris had just said, but decided not to ignore the waitress. “I’ll have what she has. A regular mimosa please,” Sasha said to the waitress, but the entire time she stared Paris down.
“So you want what I got, huh?” Paris let out a harrumph. “Figures,” Paris mumbled under her breath. She then mumbled so low that Sasha couldn’t make out, “Half the tricks in Atlanta want what I got . . . or should I say had?” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.
Paris wasn’t returning Sasha’s glare. Her face was still all contorted while she looked around, kicking her foot that was across her leg. Sasha was filled with anxiety and couldn’t wait to get back to the conversation at hand to see what had Paris’s G-string up her ass.
“I’ll be right back with that drink,” the waitress said, then walked off to fill Sasha’s order.
Sasha jumped right back in. “You were saying something about people not being nice,” Sasha said to Paris. “I could be wrong. I could just be all up in my feelings, but I felt as though you were directing your comment toward me.” When Paris, still with twisted lips and now with one eye half closed and fluttering, just sat there wobbling her head like she was half listening to Sasha, Sasha continued. “Do we have a problem?” Sasha asked, a little louder than she’d wanted to. But the way Paris was sitting there looking at her as if she was a non-muthafuckin-factor was too much for Sasha to be quiet about.
“Oh, are we getting loud?” Paris asked with a smirk on her face that was egging Sasha on to let the inner ratchetness out. Paris uncrossed her arms and leaned in across the table while looking directly into Sasha’s eyes. “I don’t have a problem, but apparently you do. From what I hear, you have a problem with me being a mother.” Paris then leaned back like she’d just dropped the mic after one hell of a performance.
Does she think she just checked me? Sasha thought to herself. She then shook off all the heated feelings that were building up inside of her. She had to keep it cool, calm, and classy. She was not going to let this city or anyone in it take her out of character. “A problem with you being a mother? Are you serious right now?” Sasha clearly had no idea what left field Paris had gotten her information from . . . not at first, anyway. Then it hit her; her mind went back to that day in the mall when Paris mentioned that she’d had a son. Sasha had been dumbfounded and shocked. Clearly she hadn’t been able to hide her reaction and now Paris was calling her on it. “Is that why you invited me here today? To have a sit-down like we on the Mob Wives reality show or something?” Sasha asked. “It’s not even that serious,” Sasha assured Paris. “So the expression on my face when you mentioned that you had a son was that of a little surprise, doesn’t mean I had a problem with it. I mean, what reason in the world is there for me to have a problem with you being a mother?” Sasha sucked her teeth. This was nonsense. Folks couldn’t even make facial expressions anymore without someone getting all sensitive?
“Girl, bye,” Paris said figuratively while waving her hand with a literal goodbye motion. “Don’t even try to play stupid now that you in my face. Especially when you had a whole lot to say behind my back.”
“Trust and believe that there is nothing I’ve said behind your back that I can’t say to your face,” Sasha said as the waitress came and set her drink in front of her.
“Are you two ready to order yet?” the waitress asked as she looked back and forth from Paris to Sasha.
It was obvious she could sense that she’d interrupted a very intense encounter. “I’ll give you ladies a few more minutes to look at the menu,” she said, feigning a pleasant smile and then walking away.
“So is this what you invited me here for?” Sasha picked the conversation right back up from where she’d laid it down.
“That’s exactly why,” Paris confirmed. “It sho’ wasn’t to break bread with yo ass. I’d already let the situation fester long enough. The next time I see you out with Casey, I at least want us to be cordial, so you need to
be checked before that situation arises.”
Sasha raised her back from the back of her seat. She shook her head and made a face as if to say, “Did I hear this girl correctly?” She then said to Paris, “Check? Who gon’ check me, boo?” Sasha said matter-of-factly, daring Paris to come with it.
“Bitch, please,” Paris snapped off.
This conversation had now reached ten, and fairly quickly. Sasha hadn’t even taken a sip of her drink yet. So one thing was for certain: whatever was about to go down, she couldn’t blame it on the alcohol.
“How the fuck you gon’ try to question people about me being a mother behind my back, but then try to play it down when you in a bitch’s face?” Paris said, just as loud as she wanted to be.
“What? Question people?” “People” meant more than one person. What the hell was Paris talking about? Sasha only knew a handful of folks in that town, and trust and believe she didn’t have the time on her hands to run around town with Paris on her lips. There’d only been one person she’d ever even mentioned the whole fact of Paris being a mother to. That’s when the lightbulb went off in Sasha’s head. “Casey.” The word fell off her lips in disbelief. The next emotion was hurt. Would Casey have gone back to Paris and mentioned their brief conversation that day in the mall? But it was so innocent. Sasha hadn’t really said anything wrong. But Sasha had to realize exactly which two people she was dealing with here. Those heifers could throw shade at midnight with no sun in sight. No telling how Casey had relayed the conversation to Paris and how Paris had heard it. Well, on second thought, it was clear how Paris had heard it. She’d heard it in such a way that this brunch was basically nothing more than a meet-me-after-school-at-three-o’clock set up. And that was jacked up, because Sasha was starved.
“Yeah, Casey told me what the hell you said,” Paris confirmed. “And if you had such a concern with me having a child, then why didn’t you say shit right then and there? I’ll have you know that I take great care of my son and I don’t need no stuck-up-ass jump-off from the Midwest trying to put anything other than that out on the streets. ’Cause you don’t want to go there with me, Miss Thing,” Paris shot in a threatening tone. “They didn’t stop selling shovels when you bought one. I can dig up the dirt and sling it, too, Miss NBA jump-off.”
Wives, Fiancées, and Side-Chicks of Hotlanta Page 16