fancy like, you know?”
“I could imagine,” Carmelicious said.
“Yeah, well, uh, then,” Andre paused, hesitant, no longer feeling so confident. But he plowed through anyway: “I told her, I said, ‘Girl, you might as well change clothes now. Where we’re going don’t require all that fancy stuff you got on.’ Told her there was a change in plans. I was taking her to the lake for a nice moonlit picnic.”
“And she was okay with that, Andre? The change in plans, I mean?”
“Yeah, she was cool. Got real excited in fact. So we got to the lake and swam for a while. At first she acted all sididy when the lake I took her to didn’t have nobody there. Hell, I thought she’d ’preciate that it was so cozy, with nobody around, just me and her.”
“Maybe she was expecting something a little less…destitute?” Carmelicious piped in, and if the man had had any sense he would have noticed that her smooth voice had a distinctly sharp edge to it.
He didn’t.
Instead, he went on as though he was the wronged party.
“Desti-what? Anyways, I spread out a blanket. It was kind of itchy, was one of my green army blankets, so I made sure I put my T-shirt on top of the spot she was sitting so she wouldn’t get itchy.”
He went on to explain how when the time came for him to make his move, after they’d eaten the authentic Philly steak sandwiches he’d bought back from Austin from the barbeque joint his cousin Melford owned, the young lady refused him.
“Come talkin’ ’bout how she don’t roll like that! I told her ass she better roll like somethin’ cause I didn’t go all the way to Austin for them sammiches for nothing!” The more he got into his story of how she was unappreciative of his moonlit picnic at the abandoned lake, the more animated his voice was, the more boisterous he became, until he became downright indignant.
“Umm, hmmm,” Carmelicious replied.
“I was ’bout ready to take her unappreciating ass home when she stripped out of her clothes. And oooh wee! Girly had it going on! Apple Bottoms all the way, if you know what I’m sayin’!” He chuckled. “Well, you know, I thought it was time to make that move, yanno? I mean, it was time to get down to the dirty, dirty!” Andre’s voice, as he was now fully into his story, was high-pitched. So much so that Leila had to adjust the volume on her radio.
“So after she gets all wet, swimming and whatnot, it’s time for Andre to show baby girl how I make a girl wet. Don’t need no water, no swimmin’, the only strokin’ she’d be gettin’ was from Daddy Long Stroke, if you get what I’m sayin’.” He laughed again at his lame attempt at witticism.
There was a full five second pause after he spoke.
“You still there, Carmelicious?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m here, Boo.”
“Oh. Okay. So what you think about all that?”
“Do you really want to know what I think about you and your Philly steak sammiches, your cheap-ass dating practices, and your Daddy Long Strokes? I think you need to buy a clue, sweetheart. Now. Do not walk. Do not amble. Do not skip. Run. Run to your nearest clue dealer, barefoot and naked if you need to, and buy your ass a clue. If you really want to get a woman nice and wet, treat her with respect. Dignity. Take her to a restaurant where you don’t talk into the head of a big-ass clown to take your order. Pull out her chair. Compliment her if she’s looking fly when you pick her up for a date instead of telling her to change clothes. If she needs you to help her out, not just with the financial, but with whatever, if you call yourself her man, do it. Hell, take out the trash for her without her having to ask your rusty ass. See, Boo, that’s what really gets us women nice and wet.”
With that, a very loud dial tone hummed, before Carmelicious continued. “Maybe I should change the name of the show to Nice and Wet. What do you all think?” the DJ laughed. “Alright now, ladies, after educating the latest booga boo for the day, it’s time for your honey-colored, self-proclaiiimed doctor of love and ’lationships—and yeah, y’all know I stole that line from Babyface—to roll out!”
Leila, still chuckling over the latest “booga boo” that Carmelicious ministered the long hand of justice to, eased over into the next lane. The road had cleared and she was finally able to pick up speed and maneuver out of the early morning rush.
“I’ll catch you all tomorrow. Now it’s time for Mr. Clancy O’Neil to take over and start your workday off right with the R&B that gets your heart thumping, your feet tapping, and your booty moving…on your number one smooth R&B station, from yesterday and today, the one the only KLJS. But I’ll see you here bright and early Monday morning. Now it’s time for Mr. Clancy O’Neil to take over and start your Friday workday. And ladies, if you run across a man with a greasy-assed sack lunch with a Philly steak sammich and a smile…run, do not walk, in the opposite direction from that fool as fast as your two feet will carry you! Your girl is out of here for the day, but remember Carmelicious’s three S’s: always play it sexy, smart, and safe. Y’all be good, but if you can’t be good, be delicious in your naughty!”
When Carmelicious said her trademark closure and a Queen Latifah oldie, “Ladies First,” came pouring out of the speakers, Leila adjusted the volume on her remote, seeing her exit coming up soon.
She quickly swerved in front of the SUV in the next lane with an apologetic wave so she could make the turn, and exited. When a horn blasted her, she glanced over her shoulder and cringed when she saw the oversize vehicle behind her narrowly miss being hit by a much smaller car riding its bumper.
As Leila rode along the exit, she bit her bottom lip in worry when she saw the vehicles trying to avoid a collision. She reached the light and strained her neck to see the two cars, but was unable to.
Sending a silent prayer upward that she hadn’t unintentionally caused a fender bender, she sped through the intersection as soon as the light turned green, checking the time on the dash, her heart racing, hoping she hadn’t missed the appointment with the investor.
2
Leila found a space to park in the underground lot, grabbed her briefcase, jumped out of her car, and wearing three-inch heeled black boots, she sprinted as best she could across the cement floor of the garage. When she came to the elevator, she quickly stabbed a short manicured nail on the elevator button, hoping against hope that with the repeated jabs, the elevator would get there sooner.
No such luck.
Impatiently, she checked her diamond-chip antique watch—one of the pieces of jewelry she’d inherited from her great-aunt and uttered a small curse under her breath.
When the elevator doors finally opened, she briskly walked inside and fumbled in her purse to retrieve the slip of paper with the floor for the offices she needed to go to. Pressing the lobby floor button, she waited as the slumbering elevator rose, thinking she could have simply walked up the flight of stairs and arrived there sooner.
When she’d spoken to Jacob Swabb’s assistant, she’d been told she’d have to get a pass from security before they’d allow her to go to their offices.
Once the laboring elevator reached the lobby, she walked across the tiled floor, the heels on her boots echoing a loud click, click, click across the tiles,
