her face.
“Yo, do they still got that game where you connect the dots?” Sasha says loudly enough for everyone to hear.
“You’re wrong, bitch,” I say laughing. The cashier looks up at us in disgust and continues to take our orders. She looks like she doesn’t want to be here. Me, personally, I could never take a job at McDonald’s and get paid minimum wage.
“I don’t wanna see any foreign skin floating in my Pepsi,” Sasha goes on, causing me to laugh again. We’re so wrong, not much caring that we’re probably hurting her feelings. But she never says anything back to us; she just keeps on being polite and filling our orders. A few people on line with us think we’re funny, while others look on with disapproval and shame.
We receive our food and go and look for a table. “Yo, shorty, let me holla,” I hear someone whisper. I know which one of the three guys is trying to call me out, but I don’t answer. I just sit down at a table and look the other way.
“Yo, Shana, look at them three sorry bums over there clocking us.”
“Yeah, I already saw ‘em.” We continue to eat, laugh and make fun of the three guys who’ve finished their meals a while ago but remain at their table, probably trying to cough up enough courage to approach us.
“It’s a damn shame how some men can be so soft when they see pussy. A scared man can never get none,” I say.
Sasha is dying laughing, almost choking on her drink. She gobbles down her last bit of fries and we’re ready to leave. We get up and head out the door, still ignoring the three guys. They follow us out into the parking lot, and one of them finally gets the courage to shout out, “Yo, shorty, come here. Can I chat with you for a minute?” And it’s not the cute one. It’s the black, monkey-lookin’ muthafucka!
I just keep walking to the car. He should’ve been figured it out, but he keeps coming toward us, thinking he’s going to get some play. As I’m about to get in the car, he grabs a hold of the passenger door, preventing me from closing it.
“Excuse me!” I yell.
“I’m sayin, though, a brotha can’t get no love from y’all?” he asks.
Seeing him up close is even worse. His lips are dry and cracked. His skin is so black it looks purple. His clothes are wack and dirty, and his hair is nappy. Shit, I could go on with so many things that are wrong with him. “Ee-ill, niggah,” I say looking up at him in disgust. “Did I look like I was interested?”
“Blackie, please don’t touch my car,” Sasha adds. He looks over at her for a second and then focuses his attention back on me. I don’t even want him near me, and he has the nerve to be trying to talk to me as his two friends stand by and watch.
“I’m sayin’ though, you look too good, boo. I can’t get your number and call you sometime?”
“Hell, no, muthafucka. Please get away from me,” I say.
“Oh, it’s like that, boo?”
“Yeah, it’s like that, ugly—leave,” Sasha chimes in.
His two boys laugh, seeing him get dissed. I guess he was trying to impress them or something. He tries to play it off. “Fuck y’all bitches!” he says.
“You wish you could!” I reply.
I know he feels stupid. We drive off laughing. Ee-ill… me and him— never in this fuckin’ lifetime. “Next time, we’re going though the drive-thru,” Sasha says glancing over at me. I can’t argue.
We shop for the rest of the day on Jamaica Avenue. I buy a few outfits, including something to wear for tonight. Sasha buys a pair of fly, three-hundred-dollar, Donna Karan shoes, and they break her pockets. It’s going on seven, and it’s time to leave and get ready for the party Sasha was talking about. The only reason I’m really going is to get my mind off of Jakim. I’m not stressing him like that, but I still have feelings for the man. Sasha drops me off at my front door and promises to pick me up around nine, nine-thirty.
I don’t rush to get dressed. I talk to a few people on the phone, take a shower and do my nails. I’m home alone, so I walk around the house butt naked. It feels good to just let my body breathe every once in a while. I stop and look at myself in the hallway mirror. “Damn, bitch, you got the perfect body,” I say, posing and admiring every aspect of my figure. Noticing the time, I run to my room to get dressed. I already know what outfit to sport tonight—my black leather mini skirt, my slate blue, stretch silk shirt and my open toe heels. I let my hair fall down past my shoulders and comb it out briskly. I put on just the right make-up and spray on some Michael Kors fragrance.
It’s twenty past nine when Sasha comes to pick me up. Latish and Naja are in the car with her. Naja’s already riding shotgun, so I climb into the backseat and greet everybody. I’ve only known Latish for two years, but Naja and I go back to the sixth grade. She’s one of my closest friends. Latish and I had our little feuds back in the day, because she always tried to talk to Jakim when the bitch knew he was my man. She said they just talked, and that it wasn’t intimate. But deep down I know she fucked him; they just aren’t telling. I’ve kept it cool with her so far, and I try not to have any beef wit’ her.
We arrive to the club at a little past ten. There’s already thirty to forty people lined up outside. Sasha parks the car two blocks down, around the corner from the club. We all step out of the car and straighten out our clothes, make-up and hair. I know I’m looking good, so I don’t stress too much.
“Fuck this!” Sasha blurts out.
“What’s wrong, girl?” I ask.
“This fucking line, that what’s wrong.” She steps out of her place in line and heads for the front entrance. “I’ll be right back.”
About ten minutes later, Sasha makes her way back to us. “C’mon, y’all, we’re getting in,” she says.
We all look at each other, thinking, what is this bitch talking about? But we follow her to the front of the club anyway, causing many who are still standing in line to hate and begin to bitch and moan. I hope this bitch don’t embarrass us—we get to the entrance and get sent back to the end of the line—not tonight in front of all of these people. We get to the entrance and to my surprise, we’re easily escorted in by a 6’2”, dark and muscular man. We pay the ten-dollar admission and strut our way into the party. I look at Sasha in amazement. “What did you do? Who hooked you up?” I ask.
“I gave the main bouncer my phone number and promised to suck his dick before I leave tonight,” she says smiling at me.
“You serious?”
“Hells yeah. We got in, didn’t we?” I have no other words for her. She’s definitely bugging the fuck out. I’d rather have waited on line for two hours. But it’s all good. We step into the dimly lit club. The music, the crowd and the scenery is bumping. The deejay has everybody hyped. He plays that new jam by Ja Rule and Ashanti. I glance around the place, checking out the cuties. And I look around for a familiar face, but I don’t see one.
“I’ll be back,” Latish says. She goes straight to the bar. It figures. She always has to get her drink on before she can get her party on.
I’m standing alone, and this chubby niggah walks
