“Now, if I was texting yougood morning, beautiful, you’d have a fit, call a nigga cliché,” he said. She laughed. The one thing she loved about Day was this back-and-forth shit. The witty banter,the making her smile, even in the midst of a bad day like the one today where she was trying to get a new car, but the salesman was making it hard for her. She held up one finger to the older white man that she had walked away from to take this call. “One second, I’m on a very important call,” she said, stalling him out.
“Don’t spit that starter kit game on me. You got to try a little harder than that.”
“How about this?” he proposed. “I’m fucked up over here over my nephew’s death, and I really want to see you. Can’t lie, though; I don’t have the best intentions. I’m looking for a distraction.”
Lauren knew the exact distraction he was talking about, and as tempted as she was, she wasn’t going to be that for him.
“Then I think you need to call Kiara Da’vi or one of your other little girlfriends,” she said. She hadn’t forgotten the smart remarks the singer had dropped on her.
“Here you go,” Day said. “I thought we were past this?”
“Past what?” Lauren asked.
“Past…playing…games,” Day replied. His tone was indifferent, and he paused between each word like he was smoking or doing something in between time.
“No games. I just don’t want to be a dumping ground for your trauma, Day. We started in a crazy way. Everything else we do, if we do anything at all, I’d just like it to be normal, you know? I don’t want to fall down a rabbit hole of dysfunction with you again. Which means, no, I don’t want to be your fuck buddy while you’re grieving.”
“My what?” He laughed. “I swear you overthink every mu’fucking thing. But cool. No dick for you.”
Stassi chuckled against her will because she was trying her hardest to establish boundaries with this man.
“Ma’am, we have other customers. I don’t think we’re going to be able to get you approved. I need to see about this couple over here.” The salesman was hasty as he interrupted her call.
“Yo, where you at?” Day asked, annoyed that their conversation was being interrupted.
“Wait! I need a car, and I need it today. It doesn’t even have to be new. I know you have something I qualify for. My credit score isn’t that bad.”
“You have a recent repossession, ma’am. Now, there are customers here who can afford to be here, and then there’s you. I don’t want to waste any more of your time or mine. Have a good day,” he said, walking away. The man was so damn nice and nasty at the same time that Stassi didn’t even know how to respond. She was mortified. She felt small in this building like everyone’s eyes were panning on her.
“Yo, where you at?” Day asked again. The annoyance in his voice embarrassed her even more. Although he knew she was down on her luck, she didn’t need him to hear it. She had a quarter million sitting in her bank account from him, but she hadn’t touched it. It just didn’t feel right to spend.
“I’m at the dealership,” she said. “I was trying to get a car. Can I just call you back? I was in the middle of something. They acting like I’m asking to drive off this lot in a Benz. I just need a little used Honda to get around. Damn.”
“Which dealership?”
“Day, I don’t…”
“Anastassia. You need a ride. I’m sending a driver for you. Which dealership?” he insisted.
“The Honda lot off 23 in Fenton.” She surrendered the information, and he hung up the phone instantly. She knew his driver was on the way, but she was so embarrassed that she just wanted to get out of there. She walked outside and waited on thecurb. She would rather be in the cold than spend another second inside.
Within 20 minutes, she saw Day’s driver pull into the parking lot. She was freezing by that time and shuffling from foot to foot to generate heat. When the back door popped open and Day hopped out, she was stunned.
Okay, nigga, in your Chelsea boots, pea coat, and your Tom Ford sweater,she thought. He looked like money, and when he pulled her in for a hug, she discovered that he smelled like it, too. She didn’t know where he was coming from, but he had cleaned up for the occasion.
“They made you wait outside?” he asked, brow dipped in aggression as he headed toward the entrance.
“No, I just needed some air, Day. Really, it’s fine. Let’s get out of here,” she said.
“Nah, who was you working with?” he asked as he pulled open the door and marched inside. She followed behind him, wondering if he knew how much authority he exuded. It just infected the air whenever he was around. Dark-ass, fine-ass nigga. Stassi could feel the intrigue dancing up her spine.
“Day, please don’t act like no nigga up in these people’s establishment. I already did. I’m a walking stereotype with my Black ass and my fucked-up credit,” she whispered. Day pinched her chin and tilted her head back slightly so that she was staring into his eyes.
“Which one?” he demanded.
Stassi sighed because she knew they weren’t leaving without making a scene.
“That guy over there,” she said, looking past his shoulder. Day turned around and saw the middle-aged white man in his Docker pants and cheap collar shirt shaking hands with a couple he was helping.
