with Frieda. Hollah.
Love you, Hope.
He set down the packages, pulled the cell phone from his briefcase, and noted a couple of missed calls. Belatedly, he remembered how poor the cell phone reception was in some of the mall stores. Smiling, he hid Hope’s honeymoon package in the closet and decided to fix a protein drink before calling his baby. Yes, Hope was the woman he wanted to be thinking about, the one he wanted on his mind. He hoped Millicent was happy, but she was his past. The woman occupying number one on his speed dial was his future.
2
God, Always with You…
“Look, you know yo ass can’t wait to get some dickage. God created the bone, ain’t nothin’ wrong with saying you want to handle the meat for a minute, damn!”
“Frieda, you have no sense.” Hope laughed as she entered her cousin’s newly decorated apartment near Baldwin Hills, an area of Los Angeles that at one time boasted the city’s most affluent Black residents. A month after Hope had relocated from Kansas City, she’d suggested to Frieda that she do the same. One visit was all it had taken. One trip to Magic Johnson’s theater followed by a stroll through the mall next door and Frieda had agreed that LA was her kind of place. “Umm…thirty-two flavors, just like Baskin-Robbins,” she had commented after seeing the plentiful, multicultural, multiethnic mix of testosterone who shopped there.
Hope couldn’t have been happier. There had not been a moment’s hesitation when Cy had asked her to move in with him shortly after he proposed, but after a couple of weeks she realized that a big city with millions of people could get lonely, especially with Cy’s business and church commitments. When Frieda had called from Kansas City and told her she’d given notice at her job, and to the latest nucka she was seeing, Hope had started things rolling on her end. She’d liquidated one of her “rainy day” CDs so that Frieda could get a place and have rent for a couple months until she got situated. She’d helped Frieda pay for the U-Haul to move her furniture from Kansas City, and they’d had a ball going around to estate sales and swap meets to replace the things Frieda left behind.
It had been a great move for both of them. Frieda had quickly landed a secretarial job and within a month knew her way around LA enough to outrun the fool she’d turned on and then tuned out at a club three weeks after she’d arrived. It was no surprise to Hope that Frieda brought the drama with her. It was her middle name and, Hope guessed, just the way she liked it.
“So, is it good, girl? Fine as his ass is, he better be able to f—”
“We didn’t do it yet,” Hope interrupted. “How many times do I have to tell you that we’re waiting until the wedding night?”
“Girl…tell that lie to somebody who’ll believe you. Ain’t no way you got that lying in bed with you at night and you ain’t hittin’ it. Ain’t…no…way.”
“Whatever, Frieda. Where do you want me to put these?” Hope had never seen any of Frieda’s places look this good and didn’t want to junk it up with their latest purchases.
“Put ’em anywhere, and stop trying to change the subject. You think I tell you all my business and ain’t gonna get into yours? Think again, sistah!”
Hope sighed and shook her head as she placed the bags on Frieda’s bar counter. Was last night’s good time written all over her face? “Okay, we have fooled around, a little bit.”
“That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout, baby. Be real with a sistah. I know’d yo ass wasn’t gonna be able to leave that alone.” Frieda whooped as she plopped down on the couch. “C’mon in here, girl, and spill it…spill it!”
Knowing her cousin wouldn’t let the subject rest, Hope plopped down beside her. “Well, we haven’t had actual intercourse but we’ve, you know, checked each other out.”
“Is he big, girl? You know sometimes those pretty boys carry pistols instead of shotguns.” Frieda was all ears.
Hope paused. “He’s perfect. Not too big, not too little. He’s just right.” She hid a smile, embarrassed yet happy to be sharing her joy with someone else. “And it feels good, nice and thick. It’s been so long since I’d seen one, that at first I didn’t know whether to touch it, suck it, or frame it!”
“Don’t make me hollah!” Frieda said, delighted. “So, did you take care of boyfriend? I know he tasted good, huh?”
“Frieda!”
“Girl, please!”
“I don’t know how he tastes, and I’ll thank you not to be wondering either!”
Frieda rolled her eyes. “Girl, I’ve got enough dick to suck, fuck, and fill a semitruck. I don’t need yo’ shit.”
It was Hope’s turn to laugh. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t want to wait. I figured that since we’re engaged—and speaking for me, even married already in my heart—I was ready to do it. But Cy said we’d waited this long, a couple more months wasn’t going to kill us.”
“And you said speak for yourself, right?”
“I’m glad he said it actually, because he’s right. It will make our wedding night extra special. I know it’s going to be so good. Just from the way he kisses me and holds me; he knows all the right spots to touch. He drives me crazy!”
“Well, all I can say is you’re a better woman than I am. I would have licked that piece of caramel on the first night, within the first couple hours, feel me?”
Hope’s phone rang. She eyed the ID and opened her cell. “Hey, baby, we were just talking about you.”
“Were you saying how much you love me, and how you can’t wait to become my wife?”
“That’s exactly what I was saying, babe, that I can’t wait.” Hope winked at Frieda. “What’s up?”
“Not much. Just got home and got your note. I was at the mall when you called.”
“Out shopping, huh? Anything for me?”
“Not today, baby. I’m sorry, should have thought about you.”
Hope feigned disappointment. “Cy Taylor, nothing called out my name? Nothing had Hope Jones Taylor written all over it?”
You have no idea, he mused. “Next time, okay?”
“Okay. Any plans for dinner?”
“Just you.”
“Good, I’ll stop and get some salmon steaks when Frieda brings me home.”
“What do we need the steaks for? I said ‘just you.’”
“Ooh…you’re such a bad boy. That’s why I love you. I’ll see you soon.” Hope’s pussy tingled as she closed the phone and leaned back on the couch.
“Can you believe it?” she said to Frieda. “Can you believe I’m actually marrying that man? It still feels like a dream. All the years I prayed and believed that my prince would come, and all the nights I cried and argued with God
