Tara
It was Friday night and I was kicking it at the usual place, Club Haze, the nightclub my boyfriend owned. Said boyfriend was nowhere to be found though, so I was temporarily single and ready to mingle.
That's how I picked out the Terry Crews look alike over at the bar. With an arm leaning against the counter and a shot in hand, he was the picture of perfection. Listen, this man was built like a house, and he looked like if he made any sudden movements, his shirt would rip apart. I bet he could bench press 350, but I knew he could bench press me.
Deciding staring wouldn't be enough, I walked on over, making sure to sway my hips side to side like I was in Ariana Grande's video. "Hi there," I said when I tapped him on the shoulder. "Would you like to buy me a drink?" I hoped he noticed me staring at his ass fitted in some Levi's.
He straightened up once he saw me. "Excuse me?"
God, he had a southern accent too? Blessed be.
"I couldn't help but notice you here all alone. I'd thought I could keep you company," I said, a finger twirling around a kinky curl. I knew I was being sexy as fuck.
He gave me a small smile but shook his head. "Thank you, but I'm good."
I pulled myself closer to him, so that my chest was squished up against his bicep and his back against the counter. "Don't be shy." I get it, I intimidated men. My black halter dress hugged me in all the right places, and I had some cute ass toes that were painted a dusty pink. (Guys don't like ugly feet.)
Surprisingly, he shook me off and put some distance between us. "No, I'm for real. I came out tonight to chill and have a drink after a long day. That's it."
"Well why can't you drink with me?" I asked, pouting. I moved closer to him. "Maybe I can relieve some of that pent-up stress." I don't think I could've batted my fake lashes any faster.
But before I could blink anymore, he threw his drink on me! I was gasping like a fucking fish with alcohol dripping from my hair. I knew my mascara had to be running.
I heard people laughing around the bar and I felt my face get hot. Could've sworn I heard someone in the back yell "Worldstar."
Terry Crews double's nostrils flared as he stared me down. "How dare you? I did not come here tonight to be harassed by some pig! Do you not comprehend the word no? Dumb bitch." With a roll of his eyes, he flipped me the bird before leaving the scene. Rude!
I heard a low whistle behind me. "Damn." When I turned around, Deon was watching my attacker leave, before he busted out laughing.
"It's not funny!" I shouted.
Tonight he was dressed casually, choosing to wear sweats instead of his normal boujee ass suits. His beard, which he always bragged about, was looking jacked up. Dude was a hot mess.
"This is all your fault! You made me wait!" I hollered, already (sexually) frustrated with the night's events.
He sighed before he reached down to pinch my cheek.
"Ow! Deon, stop it!" I said, slapping him away.
"Listen, my girl was giving me shit today, my bad. But I don't wanna hear your mouth either."
Now I understood why he was looking bummy. I calmed down, deciding to be on my best behavior. I didn't want to stress Deon out, like his wife. I was supposed to be his peace. I crossed my arms and pouted. "Fine but get me a steak. And some new clothes." I wasn't tryna be wet all night.
"Sure, fat ass. I ain't getting you clothes though." He said. "You ain't gonna need em."
On second thought, maybe I was.
I smirked up at him. Guess he was really stressed. Rolling his eyes, he started walking away from the bar. "I still got shit to do, so come on."
Quickly, I grabbed his hand as he led us through the crowd of people on the dance floor sweating they asses off. The bouncers standing in front of "VIP" nodded respectfully at us before unhooking the velvet rope in front of the entrance. Smoke lazily came from the behind the sheer curtains, surrounding my feet. It made me think of a horror movie. You know, when the fog meant some shit was gonna go down. It was like I was being warned too, the smoke telling me to turn back from this whole other world that took place behind that curtain. But if this was anything like a horror movie, I was definitely gonna die.
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Tatiana
"Would you like to donate to Saint Jude's?" the cashier asked as she finished bagging my groceries.
Hell no. Your organic honey was $9.00.
"Sure," I said out loud. Reluctantly, I pressed the $1 option on the machine. I could've bought an Arizona with that dollar.
I looked at the total of my purchases on the cashier's screen as we waited for my hard-earned money to be taken away.
Being healthy can be very rewarding. Being healthy is also very expensive. That was evident as I felt a pang in my chest once I got my little bag of purchases. I honestly wanted to return everything.
"Here's your receipt. Thank you!" And thank you for encouraging corporate greed.
"No prob." I didn't know how I felt about the new store Organics. It had just opened about two weeks ago, so I wasn't sure if that explained the lack of customers, but it was probably the prices. Sure, everything was organic and healthy, but who's going to pay for $25 worth of ingredients for a single dinner?
I walked out of the store, shielding my eyes from the bright sun. It was a nice day for a walk or something outdoorsy, but I hate the sun.
While it does give plants the nutrients they need to grow and contributed in making this jar of expensive honey, it makes people happy, so I hate it.
A lady came jogging from up the street wearing some awful bubblegum pink gym outfit. She stopped at the entrance of Organics, trying to catch her breath. "Great day isn't it?" She said smiling at me.
"Oh yeah, totally!" I said with my own fake smile.
I wish I could say 'it's hot and you probably smell like ass' but that's called being rude.
She gave me a thumbs up before walking into Organics. Not surprised.
I started on my way home, wishing it was closer and just giving me another reason to hate the damn sun. The heat was unbearable. My glasses felt disgustingly sticky on my face and I know I smelled cooked. I was practically melting. All my lotion was sweating off and my hair felt so hot on my head.
I felt my phone buzz from my pocket. Shifting my one bag, I pulled it out and answered. "Hello?"
"Why did you take so long to answer?" I heard someone say.
I resisted the urge to sigh loudly in the receiver. My wonderful boyfriend, Leicester Jameson, and I have been with each other for two whole years. It's crazy to me that I even have one, but I guess someone didn't mind when I got excited about calculus or pickled onions. Also, I never saw a problem with his love for collecting figurines. Or as I would call them, action figures.
"I'm carrying groceries." Okay, it was one bag, but still. Get off my back.
"I thought you already went shopping last week. Why would you need to go again?" He asked, sounding doubtful.
Apparently, it's strange if I go to the store every week, but I pushed down feelings of irritation, opting for patience instead. Lately, Les and I have been arguing. Maybe something was in the air, I don't know, but I always felt drained because of it.
"Tara used all the honey for her hair mask, and I needed some for dinner tonight," I explained.
My sister loved to incorporate food into her beauty regime because it saved money when she couldn't purchase her usual expensive hair products. Other times it burned a hole through my wallet because she was using my expensive ass ingredients.
"Oh. What an idiot." I could practically hear him rolling his eyes through the phone.
"Please refrain from calling my sister an idiot," I said. I was always repeating this to him.
"Whatever. Do you wanna come over for dinner tonight? My mom is making green bean casserole."
I really didn't have the heart to tell him that that was the most disgusting thing on Earth. "Yeah sure, I'll be there. Can't wait." Can you hear that fake enthusiasm?
"Oh yeah, my dad will be here, so please don't be late," he laughed awkwardly.
Now I really wanted to decline the generous invitation. There was this one time I was late to dinner at the Jameson household because of my part time job and Mr. Jameson just couldn't help himself from being petty the entire night. It was an awkward dinner, with the constant "ahems" and brief lecture about punctuality.
"Great. I'll see ya then," I said before I hung up.
Besides his towering build and stern upper lip, Mr. Jameson had this aura that made you feel like shit. I just knew he didn't approve of the relationship I had with Les, but Les didn't care and liked me, despite not having a prestigious background like his family. His immense love was the reason why I put up with this shit and why I was putting my stomach in harm's way at tonight's dinner. Just pray I don't end up in the ER.
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