He shifts on his stool, angling toward me, preparing to unload. “Alright, remember that girl? The one with the fat ass?”
“All your chicks got fat asses,” I point out. “You gon' have to narrow it down for me.”
“Short hair? Thin ass lips?”
“Oh. Yeah. What about her?”
“She ghosted me.”
My drink comes just then, which is for the best. When it comes to women, Titus can’t be helped.
I take a long swig before I muster up something to say. “What you do?”
“Why do you assume I did something?”
“Ok, then, what happened?”
His broad shoulders lift. “Shit was goin’ good, Ace. It was. And then…”
I let him drone on and on. What happened to this one is the same thing that happens with all of them; Titus stays punching above his weight class.
“So, you’re happy, right? With your girl?”
I shoot him a look. “With mywife? Of course.”
“So I don’t understand why you won’t hook me up with one of her friends.”
I chuckle at that. “How many times I gotta tell you Raya doesn’t have any friends?”
“And that ain’t weird to you?”
“I mean…not really. Not if you knew her like I do.”
“She mean?”
“Nah. She just…ain’t for the bullshit. And friendships can be some bullshit sometimes.”
Titus nods knowingly. “You coming on Saturday?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
Can't miss basketball with the guys. Ishouldmiss, but I won't. For one, because I'm serious about my cardiovascular health,but also, I don't want them to know I'm still pissed that they didn't stand up for me at my wedding. Only Titus did, and that's why I'm sitting here with him now, listening to his ass complain.
That's what friends do.
3
Raya
Brent Faiyaz croons through the speakers of my new Mercedes—a gift from my amazing husband.
It’s only three months old, and just as pretty as the day he pulled it into the driveway. Ace wanted to wait for Christmas, but he was too excited to wait to get me out of my old beat up Corolla.
I’m not supposed to let the engine idle. Ace told me that. I don’t know shit about cars, and that was on a list he gave me of things to do and not do. I’m also not supposed to let my tank get below half-full without telling him so he can fill it for me, but here I am, idling with a quarter tank.
Across the parking lot sits Twinkle Toes, the dance studio Aniya attends for her ballet classes. I hate that I can’t see in the windows at the front of the studio. They have pink curtains hanging there to deter the weirdos, I guess.
So I have to wait for her to come out to see her. She always looks so adorable in her little leotard and tights. That stank ass attitude still ain’t cute, but that’s just who she is.
