“He’s going to be served with the divorce papers today. You probably should expect a phone call from him,” I discussed with Michele Wyatt over the phone. Today was the day her husband was getting served with divorce papers. I’d called Michele to let her know and to help her make any plans if she deemed it necessary. Her husband, Jacob, was away on a business trip, so now was the perfect time to serve him, while she was still in the home. “Do you have any questions for me?”
“N-no, I don’t think so. You’ve explained everything so far. I just wish it was over already.”
I could hear the anxiety in her voice. “I know. It will be. We’re just going to take this one step at a time. You never know, Jacob could recognize that your marriage is over and decide not to contest the divorce.”
Michele tutted at that. “I don’t think so. You’ve never met my husband. He hates to lose at anything. It’s what makes him so good on the field, and…”
“So disruptive at home?” I supplied.
“Yeah,” she sighed.
“Well, whatever happens, I’ll be right there every step of the way. This isn’t my first rodeo.”
“Thanks, Chanel. I appreciate this.”
“No problem. I’m getting ready to leave the office, but if you have any emergencies, you have my cell.”
After hanging up with Michele, I returned a few emails and then grabbed my workout bag. It was Wednesday night, and twice a week, Gabby and I attended a Caribbean-inspired dance class. Wednesdays and Fridays were usually our nights, but our schedules had been thrown off the previous week when Gabby was out of town, and I had attended my family’s dinner.
I wasn’t one for working out a lot, but these classes made it fun. The class was filled with women in short shorts and high heels, throwing our hips and asses from here to there. It felt good to sweat to great music a few times a week. With these classes, I didn’t have to feel bad about my lack of gym membership.
“Hey, girl!” Gabby greeted me as I got out of my car in the parking lot of the dance studio. I smirked as I took in her well-shaped frame in a pair of tight booty shorts with a purple workout bra. At five-nine, she towered above me a few inches. Her hair was styled that evening in a short black pixie cut with chestnut brown highlights.
“Opted for the short hair today?”
“Yeah, girl, you know I like to change it up weekly. It confuses the people at work.” We both laughed at that.
“I still don’t know how you stuff all that hair under those wigs.” I shook my head.
“I told you, it’s easy. I’ll give you some pointers one day, but I like the bobbed look on you.” I’d permed my hair and cut it into a bob style, right before we’d moved to Houston.
“Thanks, bestie. How was your day?” I questioned as we walked through the studio doors. We were bombarded by the sounds of Soca music coming from one of the dance classes that had a few minutes left. We headed down the hall to the locker room. I needed to change out of my work clothes.
“It was good,” she grinned. Gabby loved her job, although her main intention was to open a spa that catered to a range of women at different price points. Working for a plastic surgeon, she was mainly limited to working with more elite clientele, but she spent her free time doing free services or taking private clients at lowered rates. She was a regular at the shelter where I’d dropped off Anne the other weekend. We both spent a great deal of time volunteering there. Though the services we offered were different, both were much needed for women who found themselves at their lowest point in life.
“And yours?” she asked. “Ohhh, look at that face. I know it’s not a client that’s got you looking like that. Spill it,” she implored, tugging me by the arm to sit down next to her.
“It’s nothing,” I lied. “We gotta go.”
“Girl, bye,” she waved her hand. “Class doesn’t start for another ten minutes. Spill it.”
“Fine,” I grinned. “I was leaving the office for a late lunch and bumped into Xavier.” Her eyes widened as if telling me to continue. “We had lunch together, and then he asked me out on a date.”
Her hazel eyes grew wide, and she covered her mouth with her fist. “Oh, shit! I told you he was feeling you.”
“Whatever,” I dismissed her.
“Whatever, what? I told you about putting your lips on people, leaving them mesmerized and shit.”
I giggled.
“It was a quick peck, and I still maintain that I was half-drunk at the time.”
“Mm-hmm, if you say so. So where and when y'all going out?”
I raised an eyebrow. “You damn well know better. We’re not going out.”
She rolled her eyes, exasperated.
