How Stella Got Her Groove Back by Terry McMillan Read Free Book Online Page B

salad pasta dessert you name it and Abby says follow me and I follow her outside and all I’m thinking as I watch folks partying is that I’m going to like it here and as we approach the deck that leads directly to the beach we walk around the pool and here are more tables and I see smoke and smell barbecue and there are about a hundred people standing in line with plates and everybody looks happy and healthy and folks are feeding each other from fingers and forks and everybody has a drink it seems and they are all waiting for what apparently is prime rib chicken shrimp steak being grilled in front of them. I’m just taking this all in; it turns out to be Jamaica Night. I sip my drink all the way down the pathway that leads to my room and apparently my building which is only two floors is right next to the nude beach. I kind of chuckle when Abby tells me this and she asks if this’ll be a problem, and I say, as I’ve already learned how to say in the last hour: “No problem, mon.”
    My room is pretty but not as spectacular as the rest of the hotel. I do have a lovely balcony with, no shit, big giant rocks and crashing waves right below like in the movies. There’s a ghetto blaster so thank God I brought my Seal and Mary J. Blige among others and I put Seal on immediately and take my clothes off and stand on the balcony and inhale some of this thick moist tropical ocean air and it’s real this is so real I made it I didn’t die yes I’m really here in Jamaica and I hang up all my clothes and then I take a shower and listen to Seal some more and I put on some pretty white shortie pj’s and I lie on my bed and listen to some more Seal and the rolling waves until my body loses me and my mind is clear and soothed and when I open my eyes it is daylight and Seal begins to seduce me all over again. I sit up and realize that yes I’m still here and I call room service and order some coffee and juice which will be here in only ten minutes’ time they say and I put on one of my cute peach jogging outfits and look at the clock and it is only 7:30 A . M . which means it’s only 5:30 A . M . at home. I should call Quincy but it’s too early plus I forgot I can’t call him and maybe I should wake up Angela—no, to hell with Angela—and I don’t want to bug Vanessa just yet. I now have my gear on and there is a knock on the door and I say thank you and offer a tip but the young black woman refuses to take it. I will find out later how to do this so they will accept it without losing their jobs.
    I get my Walkman out and pop Seal inside it. Haven’t had enough of him yet. I feel bouncy like I could sort of just fly low but fly nevertheless. This was a smart move, Stella, real smart. I drink my juice in one swallow and am almost too wired to drink my entire cup of coffee, me, Ms. Latte herself.
    When I step outside I am amazed at how hot it already is, it has to be in the high eighties, and the humidity is thick but nothing like Chicago, which is where I first went to college and then on to New York where we lived for an incredibly long time until Walter got transferred to a base near Oakland and we moved to Walnut Creek and then I got my job and we moved to this little town called Alamo and then we got divorced and he moved back to Colorado which is where he’s from.
    I run down the stairs and when I look to the left I see a group of old fat naked white people lying on the chaises and what appears like a family of pink humpback whales on orange air mattresses and when I look a little closer I see at least forty taut breasts whose nipples all point toward the sun and they seem a little incongruous because they certainly don’t match the bodies they’re attached to. I chuckle and think that there’s no fucking way I’d take my clothes off in front of a bunch of old alcoholic-looking white men considering what they used to do to us during slavery and all, which is probably the reason why I’m no darker than I am, and I