Part 1 HERE.
Tuesday at 10:30 am and not a second later, I received a text.
“Wake up handsome. 😘 meet me at Thumbs Up in the city at 11:30.”
Sidebar, thumbs up has some of the best non pork breakfast food in Atlanta.
I hopped my black ass up and headed that way. I remember it being a cold winter day and having to let my car warm up. In that instance, everything ran through my head. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what this woman did. But the mystery intrigued me. Even on the ride to the restaurant, I was in the car with the Malcolm X look on my face.
I pulled up and parked on the street over by La Fonda and I saw her standing in front of the spot. Not only was she on time, but she looked good. Damn good. Hoodie, down vest, leggings and Ugg boots. The ass looked like it was so comfortable, warm and cozy in those leggings. Like it had just been placed in there with so much care. Like she put the ass in the leggings then her legs. She has the type of ass that’s perfect for her size, you know? The type of ass that… Roxy Reynolds. Simply put. A group of savages even scurried out of the restaurant and each tried to shoot their shot at her. She was waiting for me. She saw me turn the corner and ran and jumped on me. Kissed me all in the mouth then buried her head in my neck and said “King, I missed you so much.” The niggas couldn’t even hate. You know that look of hate and admiration where a dude lifts his chin up to the side, glares at you and smiles? Yeah. 3 of those. It was warm and welcoming inside the restaurant. Attractive scents of breakfast food sizzling filled the air. She sat with her back to the door and the sun was shining in over her. I was so gone, I’m still not sure if that was her or the sun. She played footies with me under the table, fed me my food. Put jelly on my biscuit, even slapped the salt out my hand when I went to put it on my potatoes. “Too many black men are dying of hypertension. You won’t leave me alone to raise a family.”
Nigga, did I just get scolded? Thought I was in love in that moment. As we ate, I cracked open the can of worms. I’m not one to be toyed with, so I asked what I wanted to know. “Jamila, why did you choose me in the club that night? If this is nothing more than a fling, let me know so I can properly prepare.” I said.
She looked at me with those big, brown almond eyes and said “Love is serious and I don’t play. I watched you turn down girl after girl that night and they all came back to the locker room and complained. Interestingly enough, every one of the women you turned down had shitty character. Once I came out and saw you sitting there all proud and stern, I had to see what that was about, and I’m happy I did.”
My mood after that statement
Whether she was stroking my ego or not, I was fucking sold. I reached to pay when the food came and she pushed my hand away. Paid in cash, left a hefty tip, and mentioned how she used to wait tables, so she always shows love. Considerate, another plus. I walked her down to her car, palming her ass and whispering sweet somethings to her. We get to the lot and I’m looking for the Honda as she gets in a white M3 BMW. “Oh honey, the Honda is my “trap car”. Nigga, I almost passed out. A million thoughts ran through my head in a half second. NFL Baby daddy car? She’s a drug lord. She gotta be. Scammer?
As cool as I usually play it, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to know what the fuck was going on for my own safety. I couldn’t be running around with fucking Kissin Kate Barlow without knowing. Like, fill me in! I asked about everything. The behavior, the Beamer, the money. Everything.
“This is why I don’t date men my age. It’s impossible for me to be well off without a man, huh? You’re just another victim of patriarchy Malcolm. You’re so much smarter than this, just fucking trust me. I trust you enough to let you inside my body and you can’t trust me enough to not worry about how I got nice things? I’m disappointed. Fuck you Malcolm.”
She slammed the door and got ready to speed off. She hopped back out and kissed me, then shoved a Dillard’s bag into my chest. “Here.” It was a navy blue, Ralph Lauren, Shawl neck sweater. Retail $225. I felt like the biggest asshole in the world. She sped off and the niggas who she turned down earlier were standing against an adjacent wall. They had a fucking field day.
Above you see a dramatization of those Hoe ass niggas laughing at my pain
I had fucked up something good for sure. I thought I would have to eat that and always wonder what could’ve been.
Until I got a call from her a few minutes later.
“Hey King, let’s talk about a few things. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
Conclusion next week. Bye guys.