out on me earlier. He says he had to take care of some business. I tell him that I’ll see him tomorrow. I’m tired and not leaving this house any time soon. I need some rest. He’s pretty upset. He wants to finish what we started earlier. It’s tempting, but I tell him no and that’s that.
Sasha gives me a call around ten. She tells me that she just found out about a party tonight, and she wants me to come along so she won’t have to roll alone with Cell and his friend. I tell her no. I don’t go out with muthafuckas I’ve never seen or met before. Next thing you know, you’re going out with a big, black, nasty, toothless muthafucka who thinks he’s all that and wants to stay trying to get up in your drawers. She begs and pleads, and says that his friend is real cute. But if a bitch is that desperate, she’ll say anything about the next guy just to have you tagging along.
Cell is the same bouncer who helped us get in the club a few weeks back after Sasha offered him that favor later on. And she did grant it, she tells me. They went out to his truck in the parking lot, and she sucked him off real good. She said for a big dude, his dick didn’t match the rest of his body. He was feeling her so much afterwards, that he passed her his home and cell-phone numbers and begged her to call. She gave him her number as well, and she actually did call him.
“Why?” I ask.
“That niggah might have a small dick, but his tongue is wicked!” That’s her. I personally like for a man to come with the full package.
After listening to her beg, plead and say that she’ll owe me, I give in. She says she’ll be at my crib in an hour. She’s lucky she’s my girl.
I go over to my closet and look for something to wear—a closet full of clothes, and I can’t decide what to put on tonight. I throw on my animal
print mini skirt, black stockings, a black, low-cut, keyhole-neck top with flare sleeves and my ankle strapped black pumps. As usual, I’m careful to apply just the right make-up and the right amount of perfume; you never know whether or not you’ll meet a cutie at the club. I look at myself in the mirror. I’m looking too fine.
About an hour later, I hear a horn blowing outside. It has to be Sasha. I walk to the door, open it and see her standing outside. A white Escalade is parked in front of my house. I see two silhouettes in the truck. “You ready?” she asks.
“I see you came early this time,” I say looking at her outfit. She’s wearing a very tight, blue, strapless stretch Ottoman dress and blue pumps.
I pull her into the house, and the first thing I say is, “Got-damn, girl. Where did you get that stink, tight, hoochie mama dress? You look like a fucking tramp.”
“Yeah, but Cell thinks it’s cool. G-i-r-r-l, he got money. He took me out to his crib in Long Island. That muthafucka got a four-bedroom house with a swimming pool in the back.”
“You fucked him already, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, he got a little piece of it.”
“Damn….”
Before I’m able to say anything else, she hits me with, “You can’t say shit, Shana. I’m not the one fucking my ex’s best friend. You wrong, bitch!”
“I’m wrong? I’m looking out for you tonight. Don’t forget that,” I add. “I don’t know why….”
“His friend was asking about you. He wants to meet you and shit.”
“What? I don’t even know his friend…Sasha you run your mouth
too fucking much,” I tell her.
“I ain’t said shit about you to him; Cell was bragging his mouth off about you. Then he put me on the spot, asking me to hook his friend up with you.”
“Is he cute?” I ask with much concern.
“He’s cool,” she says, sounding not so assuring.
“Ill! I got a fucking pit bull waiting for me outside, right?”
“No! Go chat with him…homeboy pushin’ a Lexus,” she adds.
I want to turn away from this so-called, double-blind date Sasha’s planned. I know he’s ugly just from the tone of her voice