I chuckled and shook my head. Making a mental note to tell her ass no for the next fifteen things she asked me to do.
“Who would have thought that I would have the homebody getting ready to come to the club?” she laughed, finally facing me, versus looking at me through the mirror.
“Let’s get this shit over with,” I laughed.
“You spend all day listening to people’s problems. Then you come into the house and barricade yourself in work for those same people. That has to be bad for your own mental health. I’m glad that you’re going out tonight. You need to be outside. Get a woman, travel the world, and put that damn notepad down. You’re playing, but you might not look good all your life. You’rebasing your future on Daddy, but you might have Uncle Quincy’s genes. That negro looks like a dachshund. You don’t want to be in your wedding pictures looking like a dachshund,” she warned as we both fell into laughter.
Quiana is my spoiled ass little sister. I appreciated that she stayed out of my personal life for the most part, but the one thing that would never change was the way she argued with me for working too much. Every time she stopped by the office or called late when I was still working, she gave me the same lecture.
“Qui, let’s go before I change my damn mind,” I said as I put on my watch and then walked over to my dresser and sprayed myself with my cologne.
Tomorrow was Quiana’s 28th birthday, and she was having a party at the strip club to bring it in. Qui was outgoing, and her husband was in the league; this was their normal. I wasn’t the party type of nigga, but for Qui, I would show up.
We walked down the stairs and out of my front door to see a black truck waiting at the curb.
“What’s up, bruh?” Her husband Corey, asked as he stepped out and shook my hand. I embraced him as we dapped each other up, and I tapped his back.
“What’s good?” I asked as we parted ways. “I’ll meet you there, Qui,” I yelled over my shoulder as I got into my own truck and then started the engine. I hadn’t even made it to the club, and I was already ready for the night to be over with.
I rode in silence for the most part, trying to mentally prepare myself for the shit that Quiana was about to take me through.
As soon as the GPS said to get off at the next exit, a light on my dashboard flashed. The gas light had come on. I shook my head and exhaled at the realization that maybe I did work too much. There was no way that I should have been that distracted that I didn’t notice I was low on gas the three or four times that I had been in my truck today.
Once I got off the interstate, I saw a gas station in the distance and decided to pull in to fill up. It was late, and the parking lot was empty except for one vehicle that was parked near the front door. I parked at the pump, going inside to pay and grab some mints.
As soon as I turned to go down the aisle with the candy and gum, there was a woman standing there. I can’t lie; she had my attention immediately; her body was fire. But it was once she turned toward me that she confirmed that she was as pretty as she was thick. Her fair skin made her piercing, light brown eyes stand out. I scanned her body: loose curls flowing to her waist, a loose-fitting t-shirt dress, and designer slippers. She was nice. But if I had to put it in simpler terms, she looked like trouble. Like she could fuck your life up.
It was after ten p.m., but she had a bunch of snacks cradled in her arms.
We made eye contact for a second before she bit her lip and then looked away. Taking the packs of Jolly Ranchers and placing them alongside the other snacks that she had, then doing the same with the Sour Trolli and the Peach Rings.
“You gone have diabetes, ma. Excuse me,” I said as I chuckled and reached around her to grab the pack of mints.
She fell into laughter, “These are for frozen drinks,” she said as she held up a case of Cut Water that I had been too distracted to notice. “But don’t act like you’ve never wanted anything sweet in the middle of the night.”
“All the time,” I admitted. She blushed.
She looked up at me with those eyes, “Then you understand. Excuse me.” She was about to walk to the back of the store.
“You live here?” I asked, stopping her.
“I’m from here. I just moved back from California. They always say it’s no place like home,” She smiled.
“I’m not going to hold you up. You single? Can I have your number?” I asked without much more conversation. I had to get going; I could hear Quiana cursing me out now, thinking I turned around and went back home.
“Sure,” she said as I unlocked my phone and extended it to her. She dialed her number and hung up when her phone rang.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Mercedes, I prefer Cedes, though. Mr.…?” she smiled and waited for me to tell her mine.
“Quentin, or Q,” I said as I extended my hand, and she took it.
“When you’re done getting the things you need, come to the register and let me pay for your stuff,” I said, turning around and walking back toward the register, then waiting. After I paid for our things, I held the door open for her.
“Thank you, Quentin. Goodnight,” She said over her shoulder.
“No problem,” I said as I walked over to the pump and filled the truck before I got on the road.
