“That’s because yo’ ass ain’t worth shit, trifling-ass nigga,” I declared, speaking up for the first time in a while.
Everyone laughed.
“Man, I feel hit by that. I thought we were brothers,” JC stated.
“We are. I’m just saying that you don’t treat women right, so I don’t know how you expect to get anyone that treats you right.”
“What’s your definition of a good woman, Harlem?” Mia asked.
“I don’t think there’s a particular definition. Every woman is good in her own way and her own time, and there’s a perfect woman for every man. It’s just up to him and her to decide if they’re the right match and how they’ll work it out. For me, that woman would be someone who allows me to pamper her, take the world off her shoulders, lets me protect her from the world, and can hold it down in the streets when needed.
“She’ll understand that my silence in times of difficulty isn’t me blocking her out, but it’s my way of strategizing how we overcome and conquer whatever is in front of us. She will help me make my home that safe space that I can return to at the day’s end. She’s someone who trusts me with her heart, and I can safely trust her with mine. She’ll have poured enough into me that if I see a crazy situation arise, I know that my baby has an explanation for it, and that it’s nothing she should be caught up in.
“She keeps my secrets close, and she knows how to strengthen me when I’m starting to feel weak. She will never hold me back from pursuing my dreams, and she’s okay with me having the freedom to pursue them without me having to hold her hand and reassure her every second of the day. This woman would be independent, not because she has to be, but because she wants to be; a woman on top of her game, handling her business and her money. She’s confident in her role in my life because I’ve made her secure, and she appreciates all that I’ve done for her.”
“Damn, that’s deep, brother. You single, you say?” a girl named Xhania who was sitting in Raque’s chair asked.
Everyone laughed.
“Now that’s a good woman right there,” Isaac stated, pointing out the window with the comb in his hand. He was doing a retwist on a client.
I looked out the window to where he was pointing, and I saw a gorgeous little shorty grabbing some bags from the trunk of a silver Audi Q7. Although she was at a distance, I could tell that she was roughly a foot shorter than me, with flawless chestnut-brown skin. She was what I called slim-thick with that curvy, hourglass figure.
The white jeans she wore looked to have been painted on, especially when she stepped up onto the curb. Those ass cheeks moved one at a time like they had minds of their own.
“Damn, she looks like she’s in a marching band,” Monte declared, moving to the window.
“Nigga, what?” Josiah asked.
“Them ass cheeks lifting high as hell like a drum major’s knees.”
Everyone turned and stared at him crazy-like.
“She’s fine as fuck.” JC joined Monte at the window.
“Who is she?” I asked.
“The new bakery owner,” Josiah, Mia, Raque, and Alicia replied at the same time.
“Baby Got Buns,” Isaac, Monte, and JC all muttered simultaneously as they tilted their head to watch her walk inside of her shop.
“I hadn’t seen her before,” I declared.
“That’s because you’re seldom at the shop anymore. I’m not sure if you’re a realtor or a barber,” Raque declared. She smiled and winked at me.
I chuckled. “Gotta make that money, lady.”
“Yeah, well, she’s been coming and going for the last few months, and this is the reaction that she gets every time she comes and goes,” Raque explained before she pointed at the three amigos standing at the window with their faces glued to it.
I shook my head at all three of them. “Niggas, none of you can handle that. Get ya asses back to work,” I demanded.
“I need to cut out early and go check on my future baby mama,” Monte stated.
“Shiiid. If I don’t get to her first,” JC countered.
“Y’all have had more than enough time to step to her, but you didn’t. Now that Harlem has seen her, y’all wanna put on ya big boy draws. She ain’t checking for y’all because she knows like I know, them draws full of shit,” Mia declared.
Our clientele snickered, and Raque spoke up. “Y’all broke asses can’t handle a woman like her. She’s an independent businesswoman who doesn’t need a bunch of broke, ratchet-ass niggas stepping to her with nothing to offer.”
