“I uhm?—”
“Never mind. Come on in,” the woman invited, pushing the door open.
I stepped inside as the smoke from the cigarette blew in my face. My sister and best friend followed behind me, with Tangie’s dramatic ass coughing and waving a hand in front of her face.
“Y’all want something to eat or drink?” the woman offered.
“No, thank you,” we all muttered at once.
“Chile, you sure? You sure could use some meat on your bones,” she stated to me, as she pushed me in my back with one meaty hand, while pointing at an orange couch with the other. She ushered me toward it and then did the same with my sister and best friend who held back.
“JoJo, bring yer ass out here!” the man, who I finally spotted, shouted again.
He sat in a recliner with a white button-down shirt that had a yellowish tint and red stains on it like spaghetti sauce. He wore a pair of frayed jeans and threadbare socks.
“Someone called me?” I heard the voice, but it didn’t sound like JoJo, so I was confused.
“Yeah. These here gals are here to see you.”
JoJo stepped out of the shadows of the hallway and froze at the same time that I looked up and froze. My tongue was thick in my throat, and my mouth felt like someone stuffed it with a thousand cotton balls. My head banged, my temple throbbed, and my heart splintered into a million pieces.
“JoJo?” Aoko spoke.
“Yeah,” the girl stated shyly, licking her chapped lips.
“Aw, hell naw!” Tangie shouted, jumping up from her seat.
“You’re JoJo?” I asked in disbelief, because there was no way this was my reality.
She nodded shyly and grinned. JoJo was not the tall, dark-skinned man with dimples, and loose, curly hair I had fallen in love with. JoJo was not the man I had been talking to for the last year. There were no muscles and hairy bowlegs.
There was just this girl of twenty-two or three, who was a little over five feet, with ginger-colored skin that looked really good and clear. Her hair was braided into a ponytail, and she wore thick glasses and braces.
“You can’t be JoJo,” I whispered.
“I’m her.”
“Who was the man in the picture?” I whispered, still in shock.
“The bank manager, Floyd Evans. He’s married with kids. I knew he wouldn’t be online on a dating site, so there was little chance he would find out.”
“But why?”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was all a lie.”
“Not my feelings . . . or the things we have in common.”
I shook my head, and a teardrop fell.
“What’s going on here?” the man demanded.
“Daddy, wait.” The girl looked at me as I moved toward the door. “Can we take this outside?”
I struggled to keep the tears at bay. Pulling my fingers through my long hair, I replied, “No, we cannot. Don’t contact me.”
I ran out of the trailer and to the car without stopping. Aoko and Tangie were with me and drove me away from that place, with pieces of my heart trailing behind us.
