laughed. “You know you’re enjoying every minute of this pregnancy and I’m sure you haven’t been that hard on Allan at all. That husband of yours is golden the way he fawns all over you.”
Johanna smiled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Listen to your father. Go find yourself a really good man. Just don’t pay too much for him. A bargain is always better than full price any day of the week.”
Chapter 3
The morning sun peeked through the blinds of her bedroom, the rising warmth summoning Talisa awake. As she stretched the length of her body against the padded mattress top, she suddenly remembered that her work week had ended well and that she actually had something to do to get the weekend off to a promising start. She smiled.
Although she professed to not be interested in the evening’s auction, she was overly excited at the prospect of being in a room with so many eligible, employed, socially promising men. It was an ideal way to celebrate her twenty-fifth birthday—and her best friends had promised her an exceptional birthday party. She stretched again, yawning as she shifted from sleep mode to wide-eyed and awake.
She had already lifted herself from beneath the covers and was returning from the adjoining bathroom when her mother and father knocked on the bedroom door.
“Happy birthday to you…happy birthday to you…happy birthday, Pumpkin Pie…happy birthday to you!” they both sang, one more out of tune than the other.
“Happy birthday, pumpkin,” Herman London said, leaning to kiss his only child on the cheek.
Her mother reached for the covers on the unmade bed, instinctively smoothing out the rumpled sheets and blankets.
“Stop, Mom! I can make up my own bed,” Talisa said, reaching to pull the covers from her mother’s grasp. She rolled her eyes in annoyance.
Mary flipped her hand at her daughter. “I know what you can do. I was just helping out.” She smiled widely at the young woman, nodding approval in her daughter’s direction.
Herman shook his head from side to side. “So, what do you have planned for the day, baby girl? Anything special?”
Talisa grinned. “Going out with the girls tonight, Daddy.”
The man nodded. “Do you need some money?” he asked, reaching for the wallet in his rear pocket.
Talisa shook her head. “No, sir. I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
“Give her the present, Herman,” Mary said, clapping her hands together as she hopped in place. “What are you waiting for, Daddy?”
The man winked, reaching for an envelope in the pocket of his work shirt. “Child ain’t even dressed yet and you rushing folks.” He passed the envelope to Talisa who looked at them both curiously.
“What’s this?” she said, pulling at the sealed container.
Her parents stood beside her, beaming in her direction.
“Your daddy and I thought this was the best present for you. Hurry up and open it now!” her mother said excitedly.
Opening the envelope, Talisa’s eyes widened as she pulled a set of silver keys and the title to a new car from inside. Her mother had tied a red ribbon around the document that said the vehicle belonged exclusively to her. Talisa stared at the set of keys, her mouth ajar as the engraved Ford logo and inscription stared up at her. “You bought me a car?” she asked hesitantly, looking from one to the other.
Mary’s excitement burst out in glee as she pulled her daughter into a warm hug. “Daddy picked out a pretty new car for you. It’s blue with gray seats. It’s in the driveway. Go look,” the woman said in one big breath, gasping for air as she finished.
Her father nodded. “Happy birthday, pumpkin!” he exclaimed for a second time.
Talisa stood shocked, her limbs tied to the floor. “I don’t believe this. Daddy, why would you buy me a car? You and Mommy can’t afford this!”
Her mother bristled. “Don’t tell us what we can afford. Your daddy and I know what we can afford and what we can’t.” The woman’s tone was suddenly hostile.
Her father defused the moment quickly, resting a large hand against his wife’s forearm. “Your mama and I been saving up for this since you turned eighteen, Talisa. We’ve been putting a little away every month. I thought we’d have been able to do it when you graduated college, but that’s when I lost my job at the plant. After I started driving buses for the city, we just kept on saving. We wanted you to have something special and since turning twenty-five is a special time, today was as good as any other.”
Talisa’s hair swayed from side to side as she shook her head. She reached to hug her father and then her mother. “I love you both so much.”
“Well, don’t just stand there,” her mother admonished, the smile returning to her face. “Get dressed. I gots to go to the store and I want to ride in that nice new car.”
Talisa pulled her new car into the parking lot of the Crowne Plaza Atlanta hotel, Mya Taft, one of her closest friends, riding shotgun beside her. The two women were laughing heartily as they exited the vehicle, one just as excited as the other.
“I plan to bid on every tall, Mandingo brother with big feet and an even bigger bankbook,” Mya said as they made their way toward the front of the building.
Talisa laughed. “Why does he have to be big?”
“Small men make me nervous. I want a man who eats well, eats often, and isn’t afraid to give me a taste when the moment moves me. And you know if his feet are large, then the rest of him won’t be a disappointment.”
“You are a sick woman,” Talisa said with a chuckle as the two women gave each other a high five.
“Where’d you get that dress?” Mya asked as Talisa removed her jacket, admiring the turquoise, floral-printed, silk sundress her friend wore. “’Cause that dress is wearing you, girl!” she exclaimed.
“The new Bloomingdale’s in Lenox Square.”
“I never find anything at that store. You make me sick.”
“Like you don’t look good in that size-two slip you have on.”
Mya laughed, doing a fashion model strut and spin in the middle of the hotel lobby, flipping the jacket she’d just removed over her shoulder. “Okay. I do look good, don’t I?”
Talisa clasped her arm through the other woman’s. “We both look good. Now let’s just hope these men tonight are worth all the trouble.”
As the duo entered the ballroom, stopping first to register at the reception table, they were instantly in awe of the elaborate decorations. Playing with a New Orleans masked ball theme, the decorating committee had outdone themselves. The décor was exotic and sensual. The tables were dressed in white linens with gold and black accented table runners. A large runway had been built room center, the massive structure skirted in a coordinating harlequin print, and miniature white lights sparkled against the high ceilings. With
