he, now?”
“Yes, but he didn’t mention that you were so beautiful and had a sexy accent. Where are you from?”
“Bahamas.”
“Nice,” said Melvin. “Now, if you’ll just have a seat in the customer waiting area, I’ll get you squared away.”
“Actually, my girlfriend just pulled up. We’re going to run out for a bit, and I’ll just come back in a little while.”
Melvin squinted to get a better look at Kenya as she pulled into the parking lot. “She look like you?” He smiled.
“She’s engaged.” Whitney smiled and began to walk out of the shop.
“Engaged, but not married, right?” he called as she walked away.
“They’re just about there.” Whitney laughed, giving Melvin a wave as she exited. She hopped into the passenger’s seat of Kenya’s sedan.
Kenya lowered the volume on the Rihanna song she was blasting. “Who’s the nosy guy?”
“Melvin.” Whitney wrapped the seat belt around her. “Lane’s friend.”
“Oh, Lane.” Kenya grinned. “Now you’re on a first-name basis.”
“What? His name is Lane. You want me to keep calling him the guy whose truck I plunged into?”
“I guess not.” Kenya gave her a side-eye. “Now, where around here can we go for that drink? I don’t know anything about this neighborhood.”
“Right,” said Whitney, pulling her cell phone out of her purse. “I’ll just check Yelp.”
“Okay.”
“It says there’s a bar just around the corner. They have great reviews and even have a happy hour,” said Whitney. “Make a left here at the corner.”
* * *
They stepped into the quaint bar, snagged a small table in the corner of the dimly lit room. Soulful music played casually, and some people swayed to it, while others engaged in loud conversations. Whitney ordered her signature rum and pineapple juice, while Kenya sipped on a glass of Merlot.
“Can we have an order of the hot wings, too?” Whitney asked the half-naked server.
“Sure,” said the young woman. “You want mild or hot?”
“What do you think?” she asked Kenya.
“I’m not eating any hot wings. Girl, I’ve got to fit all of this into that wedding dress in a few weeks.”
Kenya was always watching her weight. Always on some diet or taking a supplement for this or that. And since getting engaged, she’d been on a mission to maintain her weight at her current size because she was not buying another dress.
“I’ll take the hot ones,” said Whitney, and as soon as the server walked away, she leaned toward Kenya to talk over the music. “A few hot wings never hurt anybody.”
“I’m not like you, with your perfect figure that you never have to work for!”
“Oh, I work for it. But I cheat sometimes,” said Whitney. “I hit the gym, too.”
“When, Whit?” asked Kenya. “When was the last time you were committed to a workout?”
“Last night.”
“But before that, how long?”
“It had been...” Whitney thought for a moment, took a sip of her drink. “Okay, it had been a while. But I’m back now. I’m sore right now, but I’m back.”
“Why do you bother?” asked Kenya. “Look at you. You’ve got it in all the right places.”
Whitney’s five-foot-four physique was coveted by many. Her 152 pounds seemed to fall in all the right places. In her mind, though, she needed work. She needed her butt lifted and her stomach flatter.
“So do you. You just need to tone a bit,” said Whitney. She knew that weight had been a long-standing and touchy subject for Kenya, so she changed the subject. “I found the perfect shoes for my dress.”
“Really? Where?”
“DSW.” Whitney pulled her cell phone out, sorted through her photos and showed Kenya. “Look at these beauties.”
“Oh, they are beautiful!” Kenya grabbed the phone. “I need to send this to all of the bridesmaids.”
Whitney snatched her phone back. Her Bahamian accent was stronger at times. “No, honey. I’m the maid of honor. My dress and shoes will be different.”
“You’re right,” Kenya resolved. “It’s just that these women are dragging their feet. I don’t even think that Tasha has gone to get fitted for her dress!”
“She will.” Whitney laughed. “You know she’s late for everything. She’ll be late for her own funeral.”
“Why can’t she ever be on time?” Kenya took a sip of her wine and made room on the table for the piping-hot wings that the server placed on the table. “Thanks, honey. Can we get some extra napkins, please?”
The server walked away, but not before rolling her eyes at Kenya.
“Did she just roll her damn eyes at me?” Kenya asked.
Whitney chuckled. “I think she did.”
“See, that’s why I don’t come over here.”
“It’s okay.” Whitney was already tearing into a hot wing and licking sauce from her fingertips. “Some of the best places have the worst customer service. Try these wings, girl. You’ll forget all about what’s-her-name.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t see it.” Kenya grabbed a wing, her pinkie finger in the air.
Whitney shook her head and grabbed another wing.
* * *
Just as they pulled up at the body shop, Melvin was pulling Whitney’s car out of the bay.
“You’re all set.” He stepped out of the car, grinned and dangled the keys in the air.
“Thank you.” Whitney gave him a smile and grabbed her keys. She took a long look at her bumper. It was like new. “Looks good!”
“Damn right!” he boasted. “Now, tell my friend Lane that I took good care of you.”
“I certainly will.” She walked around to the side of her car. Melvin opened the door for her and she sank into the driver’s seat. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He slammed her door shut.
She
