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“Ooh. This has the potential to get messy,” Dreama says.
“Not for me. I’m good. However, my hands don’t have a problem getting active in the event I need to cage a flighty bird.”
“What’s good, Shari? How was your day?” Kayshon’s voice is lower and deeper than usual, causing my lips to part slightly as a puff of air slips out.
Damn, Kayshon.
A flush fills my face as I start fanning from the sudden rise in temperature in my bedroom.
“It was all right until an hour or so ago,” I say, trying to regulate my breathing while attempting to contain the uptick in my body’s reaction to simple questions from him.
“What happened?” The question comes out demanding and authoritative as I run my tongue along my lips to moisten them.
“Nothing other than the fact that you need to do a better job keeping your strays in the house lest they find themselves being euthanized.”
“Dumb this shit down, Shari. I don’t speak woman,” Kayshon says with a low chuckle.
“Honesty. I?—”
“Oh. That shit is a wrap. I ain’t about to waste a second on that topic. As a matter of fact, let’s talk about you being on theclock because our first date is gonna be this Saturday,” Kayshon says dismissively.
“Are you asking or telling me?” I snap with a roll of my neck, but he’s unable to see unless he can see through the phone.
“My asking you happened after that sham of a drink exchange when I told you to start preparing for the real date I was planning.”
This man is gonna keep me on my damn toes.
“What time should I be ready?” At this point, there’s no need to go back and forth with Kayshon about details or anything else.
“Seven should work.”
“Okay.” A warm glow flows through me as I ponder his plan for our first date, but I refuse to ask because I would rather wait to see firsthand how he’s coming straight out the gate.
The date…
Ashari P:
How am I supposed to dress for this date? You didn’t give me any details and women have to know.
“Why doy’all women have to ask so many questions?” I ask.
“Well, that depends on the subject matter. Give me a little more context so I can provide a more thorough answer,” Ms. Aretha says.
“Instead of allowing me to lead like a man, Ms. Ashari wants details on our date.”
Ashari is unlike any woman I have messed with, which says a lot because I’m not big on dating. Fucking is my best friend because it means I can leave my feelings out of my interactions. While Ashari isn’t my first girlfriend or anything like that, it has been a few years since I’ve taken a woman seriously in that aspect.
“I’m not understanding. What details does she want to know?” She gives me an inquisitive look with a wooden spoon in her hand.
“What to wear,” I say.
“Oh, my misguided baby. That’s a necessary detail unless you want her to be dressed like who shot John. Provide those details and let the rest be a mystery,” Ms. Aretha says, smiling and resuming preparing the meal for tonight’s date.
While Ms. Aretha is the reason I know how to cook, she also told me that securing my wife would start with her food versus whatever I threw together. After spending most of the day overseeing the preparations for tonight, I didn’t argue with her. Sighing, I typed out a response to Ashari’s text. I'm thankful she didn’t send a follow-up during my brief conversation with Ms. Aretha.
Me:
My bad, Shari. Dress comfortably but better than you would if lounging at your crib.
