A Plus Size Diva

by Brenda Hampton

Genres: Urban Fantasy

Synopsis

At the age of forty, Desa Rae Jenkins may be classified as over the hill, but with voluptuous curves in all the right places, she attracts Roc Dawson, one of the sexiest men alive, who happens to be almost half her age. He excites her like no other man has, but from Roc’s playa-hating uncle Ronnie to the baby-mama drama that comes to her doorstep, Desa Rae is forced to make a decision that could set her free from the man she’s fallen in love with.

The mere thought of Desa Rae ending their relationship sends Roc packing, and he must reevaluate what he has always known as the street life. If he wants to keep this bona fide diva on his team, he has to make his case for black love and leave the past behind. Then again, so does Desa Rae, especially when her ex-husband, Reggie, jumps back into the picture, causing more secret skeletons to be revealed.

Release date: October 1, 2014

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

I hated my job, but as bad as the economy was, I was pleased to have one. My boss, Mr. Wright, sometimes made me want to splash hot black coffee in his face, but other times he was cool to work for. I’d worked as his administrative assistant for thirteen years, and even though other opportunities at St. Louis Community College became available from time to time, I had somehow got complacent. Maybe because I knew the grass wasn’t always greener in another department. I’d heard complaints from other administrative assistants who despised their bosses, so dealing with Mr. Wright just had to do.

Then again, maybe it was just me. I turned forty last month; my son, Latrel, left for college this year; I’d been packing on the pounds; and my divorce from Reggie was recently finalized. Needless to say, things were tough. Never in my wildest dreams had I predicted our marriage would end up as it had. We were high school sweethearts and had planned a life together forever. When Latrel was born, I was the happiest woman in the world. He and his father were very close, and over the years, they’d gotten even closer. So close that when Reggie started seeing another woman, Latrel knew about it but didn’t say a word. I suspected that something was up, and when I would look Latrel in the eyes, I could tell he was hiding something.

He was so anxious to go away to college, and moving away from home had become his priority. I hated to put him in the middle of what was transpiring between me and his father, but I couldn’t help but feel betrayed by both of them. Reggie’s and my marriage was on shaky ground for at least the last four years we were together. His late nights at the office and constant trips out of town always brought about many arguments. It wasn’t until I saw the infamous lipstick on the collar that I suspected something was up. I finally questioned him about my suspicions, and his response was quite surprising. He came clean, admitting that he had fallen out of love with me and wanted his freedom.

To this day, I have flashbacks of that dreadful day, and even though it went down as one of the worst days of my life, I appreciated his honesty. No doubt, it was time to call it quits. We hung in there for another three months, but as soon as Latrel left for college, Reggie went his way and I went mine. I still loved my ex-husband, but for him to renege on our vows as he did, I lost a lot of respect for him.

I was sitting at my desk, eating M&M’S, daydreaming about my failed marriage, and attempting to type a letter for Mr. Wright that had to get distributed today. My fingers weren’t moving fast enough for him. When I heard him yell my name, my eyes rolled to the back of my head. I picked up my cup of coffee, and instead of taking it into his office with me, I sipped from the cup, smiling about my devious thoughts of tossing the coffee at him. I then placed the cup on my desk and straightened my gray fitted skirt, which was glued to my healthy curves. I flattened the wrinkles on the front and made sure that the silver buttons were buttoned on my rosy red blouse, which squeezed my size forty double Ds. Sometimes Mr. Wright complained about my attire. To him, as a full-figured woman, I dressed too sexily, bringing unwarranted attention. And if anyone stopped at my desk to pay me a compliment, that was a distraction.

I considered myself a beautiful forty-year-old woman. I was confident about myself, and even though my breasts weren’t as perky as they’d been before and some cellulite was visible on my thighs, there wasn’t much for me to complain about. The problem was I had an addiction to sweets! Sweet addiction or not, my body was well proportioned, and what kind of man didn’t want a woman with meat on her bones? Reggie had never had any complaints, but I had a feeling he traded me in for a woman who was half my size and age.

I slid my feet into the gray, three-inch stilettos underneath my desk and made my way into Mr. Wright’s office. He rubbed his wrinkled face up and down, massaging it with pressure. His cold blue eyes looked me over, and a deep sigh followed as he extended his hand.

“Have a seat, Desa Rae.”

I took a seat in the leather chair that sat in front of his messy desk. Papers were scattered everywhere, and his phone was buried somewhere underneath. I had attempted to organize Mr. Wright’s office for him, but he was a serious pack rat. He hated to throw away anything, and consequently, some of the papers on his desk had started to turn yellow. I turned my eyes to the six smashed cigarettes in his ashtray. His office had a smoky smell, which someone had tried to cover with cheap Glade garden spray. I figured that since he’d been under pressure, I was about to get an earful. I then looked at the round clock on his wall and saw that I was ten minutes away from taking my lunch. Obviously, he needed to hurry up with whatever he wanted to discuss.

Mr. Wright peeled the black-framed glasses away from his face and then combed his fingers through his layered salt-and-pepper hair. “I need a vacation,” he said, then yawned. “And when I get back, maybe my secretary . . . uh . . . administrative assistant will have all my letters typed for me, my office will be spotless, and I’ll never be late for an appointment, because she remembered to tell me.”

I had been through enough in my personal life. Mr. Wright adding to my misery wasn’t going to benefit him in any way. No, I hadn’t been giving this job my all, but he knew about my divorce from Reggie. He knew that my son had gone away to college. Yet it seemed as if Mr. Wright wasn’t willing to cut me any slack.

I repositioned myself in the chair and crossed one of my moisturized legs over the other. It was best that I kept quiet. If I didn’t have anything nice to say, I wasn’t going to say anything at all. I turned my attention to my chipped fingernail and thought about how badly I needed a manicure.

“Desa Rae,” Mr. Wright said with a high-pitched voice. “are you with me, or is your mind floating somewhere else?”

With a blank expression on my face, I gave Mr. Wright my attention. “You asked me to take a seat, so I did. You haven’t required anything else of me, so I assumed my job was to just listen.”

He threw his hand back and looked at his watch. “It’s almost lunchtime. Would you mind bringing me a bagel sandwich with turkey, ham, and cheese? The deli shop on the corner has awesome sandwiches. You should get you one too.”

“My car really needs to be washed, so I planned to stop by a car wash. If you allow me a bit more time, I’ll stop by the deli to get our sandwiches.”

“I’ll allow you an extra fifteen minutes,” he said, then handed me a Post-it notepad. “Here’s a list of things I need you to take care of before the day ends. It’s not much, but if you have any questions about my requests, you can reach me by cell phone. After lunch, I’m leaving to spend the day with my wife. Today is our thirty-first anniversary, and I’ve made special plans for us. Before you go to lunch, if you could call the florist and have some flowers delivered to my house, I would appreciate it.”

I skimmed the Post-it note, which specified a minimal number of things for me to do, including finishing the letter I’d been working on already. Mr. Wright had even drawn a smiley face on the Post-it, encouraging me to have a great day. I smiled and held out my hand. He looked at it inquisitively.

“What is it?” he asked. “You want more work to do?”

“Happy anniversary, but I need money for your bagel sandwich. You don’t think I can walk in there and get it for free, do you?”

He chuckled and reached in his back pocket. “You’re a fly young woman who should be able to get whatever you want for free.” He pulled a ten-dollar bill out of his busted wallet, and as he did so, his credit cards fell out and so did his driver’s license. I reached for the license, holding it in my hand.

“At your age, Mr. Wright, what do you know about a woman being fly? Your grandkids aren’t encouraging you to be hip, are they?”

“My grandkids are all a mess. They say I’m too old-fashioned, but I’m set in my ways. I’m appalled that they listen to rap music, and they drink and smoke too much pot. I can’t tell you the last time I saw any of them read a book, and my youngest grandchild, Katie, she’s adapted a new Goth look. What’s going on with these kids today, Desa Rae? It wasn’t like that when I was growing up.”

I stood up, wiggling my hips a bit so my skirt could drop to knee-length level. “Those days are long gone. Things have changed. The best thing we can do for our children is be there for them.”

He stood up too. His black slacks squeezed his waistline, and his pot belly hung over his leather belt, which was there to keep everything intact.

“Well, I’m not quite ready to accept this change yet. I’d love people to get back to their conservative values and start doing what’s right for this country.”

I felt our conversation turning political, so I kept my mouth shut and followed behind him as he made his way to the door.

“I’m going to the men’s room. Don’t forget about my wife’s flowers, and I’ll see you when you get back with lunch.”

Mr. Wright flat-footedly walked away, and I sat at my desk to call the florist. After I had a dozen roses sent to Mrs. Wright, I called to wish her a happy anniversary. She was one of the nicest women I’d ever met. I hated to admit it, but her husband was pretty darn nice too. Coming clean, I admitted to myself that I was the one with an attitude problem.

The long line at the car wash made me very impatient. The workers were engaged in horseplay and seemed so darn unprofessional. One worker was on his cell phone, cussing at his girlfriend, and another was arguing with a white man about some spots the worker had missed inside his car. Lil Wayne’s “Lollipop” was thumping through the loudspeakers, and when I saw two females who had climbed out of their cars and were twerking, I was in disbelief. The attention they got delayed the workers even more. And after seeing numerous people waiting in line too, I was embarrassed. The hot sun was baking my body, and my wet silk blouse was starting to stick to my skin. I stood close to my car and reached inside for my glasses to protect my eyes from the sun’s bright glare. As soon as I covered my eyes, my cell phone buzzed. I looked to see who it was, and it was Reggie. The last thing I needed was to hear his voice, so I let the call go straight to voice mail.

“Sucker,” I mumbled, tossing the phone inside my tiny purse. I tucked it underneath my arm, then abruptly walked inside the car wash waiting room to speak to a manager.

“Can I help you?” asked the man behind the counter.

“May I speak to the manager?”

“Can I ask what for?”

I forced a fake smile. “I prefer to speak to the manager about my concerns, if you don’t mind.”

The man twisted his thick, crusty lips and walked away from the counter. Moments later, he returned and asked me to take a seat.

“The manager ain’t here, but I got somebody else you can talk to.”

I cut my eyes at him and wouldn’t dare take a seat in any of the blue chairs, which had stains all over them. I could have easily gone somewhere else, but this place was close to my job. My Lincoln MKS needed a cleaning right here and now. Time definitely wasn’t on my side. I knew that Mr. Wright was eagerly awaiting his bagel sandwich.

I gazed out the smudged window at four black men and two white men in dark blue jumpsuits, sitting around, doing nothing. The line with people waiting had gotten longer, and some people were starting to leave. I shook my head at one of the workers who had the audacity to look inside the waiting room and blow me a kiss. My middle finger trembled by my side. I surely thought about lifting it so he could see it. My “Don’t mess with me” expression said it all, but it wasn’t enough to keep the man from coming inside.

“Is there somethin’ I can help you wit’?” he asked as he walked through the door.

I looked at the name stitched on his jumpsuit. “Bud, I don’t think so. You look as if you’re too busy to help anyone.”

“I’m on my break, but for a scrumptious-lookin’ cookie like you, I’ll—”

“Please don’t do me any favors,” I snapped. “There are people out there who’ve been waiting and waiting on your services. This is ridiculous. I can’t believe I’m standing here, trying to coach you about doing your job.”

Bud’s eyes damn near popped out of his head. “Another angry black woman,” he spat. “Y’all need to cut us some slack. I offered to help, but you don’t want it. You’d rather stand there wit’ yo’ sexy, bitter self and attack me.”

My brows quickly shot up. This man didn’t know anything about me to call me bitter. And his “angry black woman” comment had hit a major nerve. My index finger rose. I was about to tell Bud to kiss me where the sun didn’t shine. Instead, I was interrupted by someone clearing his throat. My head snapped to the side, and I saw an extremely attractive young man standing close to me. He immediately reminded me of Lance Gross, and all that dark chocolate was quite breathtaking. Due to the dirty blue jumpsuit he had on, he wasn’t as clean-cut as Lance Gross, but his smooth skin and “Lure me into your bedroom” hooded brown eyes nearly swept my feet out from underneath me. His thin mustache was trimmed to perfection, and so was the minimal hair that adorned his chin. I hurried to gather myself, and when he turned toward Bud, I listened in.

“Are you finished with yo’ break yet?” he asked.

“Almost. I just came inside to see if I could help this lady. She seems upset about somethin’, but I’m not sure what’s up.”

I looked at the name stitched on Mr. Sexy’s jumpsuit. “Roc, are you the manager?”

Roc shrugged, as if he didn’t give a damn about my concerns. “Not. But I’m in charge of things around here right now. What’s up?”

I rolled my eyes and released a sigh of frustration. All I wanted was a car wash. Instead, I had yummy and dummy standing there as if I’d done something wrong. I tightened my lips to keep quiet and made my way to the door. Roc rushed up behind me.

“Did I say somethin’ wrong?” he asked.

I kept on moving. My long hair was bouncing, and my brisk walk implied that I would never, ever visit this place again. When I got to my car, I got inside and slammed the door. Roc stood there, with a confused expression on his face, and while rubbing his coal-black, neatly lined waves, he squinted from the bright sun. I put my car in reverse but couldn’t go anywhere, because another car was behind me. I hit the horn with my hand and couldn’t believe how upset I was.

“Damn it!” I yelled.

Roc stepped up to my car and squatted as he looked at me through the lowered window.

“Are you havin’ a postal moment or what? Maybe I should back away from the car, in case I get shot. You too dope to be as angry as you are. If I’ve done anything to upset you, hey, my bad.”

I took a deep breath to calm myself. I’d been overreacting to a lot of things lately, but that was to be expected. I zeroed in on his straight, pearly white teeth.

“Look,” I said with frustration in my eyes. “All I want is my car washed. Is that asking too much? I’m on my lunch break, and I have thirty-five minutes left.”

Roc backed away from the door. “Come on. Get out of the car. I’ll personally take care of you.”

That was music to my ears, so I exited the car and let Roc get in.

“No offense,” I said. “But your jumpsuit is kind of dirty. My seats are off-white and I’d hate for them to get any dirtier.”

Roc pointed to his chest. “I thought that’s why you were here. Ain’t it my job to clean the outside and inside of yo’ car?”

“True. But you have grease on your jumpsuit. Right at your midsection.”

Roc looked down, but it wasn’t at his midsection. “Thanks for noticin’,” he said, then winked.

He got out of my car, standing tall in front of me. He reached for his jumpsuit zipper, and our eyes were in a deadlock as he slid the zipper down, past the hump I’d already noticed. I felt so ashamed for getting myself worked up over a young man like him, but his sexiness was hard to ignore. He kicked off his black steel-toe boots, and the jumpsuit came off next. Underneath, he sported a white wife beater and jeans that hung low on his nicely cut midsection. His arms were muscle packed, and he had tattoos on both of them. How dare I stand there, gazing at him as if I hadn’t eaten any chocolate all day?

“If you don’t mind, I’m going inside to suck up the air conditioner. Please come get me when you’re finished.”

Roc nodded. I made my way back inside, swaying my noticeable hips from side to side. I got a few whistles, and even though they were from Bud, I didn’t mind.

As Roc detailed the heck out of my car, I watched his every move through the window. His body was now dripping with beads of sweat, causing the thoughts in my head to become downright nasty. I visualized my light-skinned legs resting comfortably on his shoulders as he pumped hard inside of me. I gave him head, while he tongue tortured my tunnel in the sixty-nine position. Even Reggie couldn’t do it like that. I smiled . . . Roc smiled. I assumed he liked it rough, but then again, his voice had a romantic pitch to it.

Yeah, he was a thug, but . . . how old was he? I thought about his age while biting my already chipped nail, trying to take back my outrageous thoughts. He had to be at least my son, Latrel’s age or maybe a tad bit older. I couldn’t quite understand my immediate attraction to him, but maybe it was due to me feeling so alone. I chalked it up to the fact that he was a handsome young man, one who was probably dating several attractive young women. Like the one with the petite figure who stood close by as he wiped my windshield. She wasn’t giving him much breathing room. By the evil stares she gave him, I could tell there was an involvement. No doubt, the competition looked steep. If he was interested in women that small, I was way out of his league.

Roc tucked the dry wash rag into his front pocket and reached in his back pocket for his wallet. I saw him hand over several bills to the young woman, and afterward, she walked away. Once she sped off in her car, he looked inside the waiting room, focusing his eyes in my direction. I grinned, then took a glance at my watch. Time was not on my side, so I left the building and walked over to my car.

“I’m just about finished,” Roc said, removing the rag from his pocket and turning it in circles on my windshield. “Feel free to inspect it.”

I walked around my car, silently admitting that he had done a pretty good job. When I noticed a tiny speck of dried water on the trunk, I called him out on it.

“Oops,” I said. “You forgot something.”

He turned his attention to the trunk and looked at the dry water speck. “Are you serious?” He smiled and rubbed the tiny spot with a towel. “If you look hard enough, you might find more of those.”

“I hope not. Besides, how much is this going to cost me? If there are spots on my car, then maybe you should consider offering me a discount.”

He faced me and leaned his backside against the trunk. His arms were folded in front of him, and his bulging muscles were clearly on display.

“I usually don’t offer people discounts, especially if the Roc personally takes care of them. But in this case, I got a better idea.”

My hand went up to my hip. I felt the bullshit about to go down. “I’m almost afraid to ask about your idea.”

“It’s simple, Ma. What’s yo’ name?”

“Desa Rae. Why?”

“Because my real name is Rocky Dawson, Dez. Let me get yo’ sevens so I can hit you up and take you to dinner. How about that?”

My eyes shifted to the ground, then connected with his. “Just for the hell of it, Mr. Rocky Dawson, how old are you? And by the way, my name is Desa Rae Jenkins, not Dez.”

In slow motion, I watched his thick lips spit out the number. “Twenty-four.” He stared at me. “How old are you?” he asked.

He was only five years older than my son! There was no way I could go there. “You know what? My age doesn’t even matter. How much do I owe you?” I opened my purse, reaching for my wallet.

“The wash was on me. Now, to be fair, can you answer my question, or did you just realize that this young man may be too much for you to handle?”

I moved my bangs away from my sweaty forehead with my finger. Then I hurried to wrap up this conversation, which was going nowhere. “I’m forty, Roc. Thanks for the free wash, and you’re right. You are too much for me to handle.”

I headed to the driver’s door and opened it. Once inside the car, I reached for my seat belt to strap myself in. Roc bent down to look in the window.

“Somehow I feel as if I got snubbed.” He pulled the wet wife beater away from his chest and wiped some of the sweat from his face. “I’ve been out here sweatin’ and slavin’ like a Hebrew slave for you, and this is how you treat me? I see you got ghost when I told you my age, but if I told you I was thirty-one, would you believe me? Better yet, would it make a difference?”

I couldn’t help but smile at his attempt. “No, it wouldn’t make a difference.”

“Why? Because you lied about yo’ age? You know damn well you ain’t forty. Thirty, maybe. Not forty.”

“I have no reason to lie to you, and if I had time, I’d show you my driver’s license. I don’t, so you’ll have to take my word for it. Now, if you don’t mind, I really need to get going.”

“Can’t say I didn’t try.”

Roc shrugged and backed away from the car so I could drive off. I did just that, but I couldn’t help but take another look at him in my rearview mirror. I licked my bottom lip, biting into it.

Damn, I thought. If he were only ten . . . fifteen years older.

Latrel was coming home for the weekend, and as usual, Reggie and I had been arguing over where Latrel would stay. After our divorce, Reggie had to give up our three-bedroom, two-bathroom ranch-style home, which we’d lived in for years. I kept the house. Latrel had a decked-out bedroom in the basement, so it only made sense that he would agree to stay with me. The decision was his, but when he opted to stay with his father at his condo in Lake Saint Louis, I got upset.

“You don’t love me, do you?” I asked with the phone pushed up to my ear.

“Mama, you know that ain’t fair. I love you a lot. But I want to check out Dad’s new place by the lake. You and I gon’ hook up. Besides, I want you to meet my new girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend? That was quick. Shouldn’t you be focusing on school and your basketball career?”

“Trust me, I am. I get lonely sometimes, Mama. Tracie kind of been there for me.”

My heart softened at the thought of him feeling alone. I definitely knew how that felt. “What time will you be here, and where is Tracie going to stay?”

“I’ll be there around noon. Tracie is staying with me. I already talked to Dad about it, and he said it was cool.”

“Oh, really? No wonder you don’t want to stay with me. You knew darn well I wasn’t going for it. If Tracie is coming with you, during the night, she can either stay with me or get a room at a hotel.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. I already told you I talked to Dad about it and he’s cool. Why you over there trippin’?”

I was at work, so I definitely had to keep my cool. Latrel and Reggie were always going behind my back, making risky decisions. It drove me crazy. “I’m calling your father tonight, and we’re going to discuss this. In the meantime, you’d better start making reservations at a hotel, or leave Tracie in her dorm room.”

“This is crazy, Mama. Are you saying that you don’t trust me?”

I slammed my hand on my desk and pulled the phone slightly away from my ear. After I was calm, I continued the conversation. “Tell me something, Latrel. Are you a virgin?”

“No. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“Strike one. Do you always use condoms?”

“S-s-sometimes. Mostly—”

“Strike two. Does Tracie take birth control pills?”

“I . . . I guess. I assume—”

“Strike three, my dear, and you’re out! No, I do not trust you, and . . . and at what age did you lose your virginity? This is something completely new to me, but I’m sure your father knows all about it.”

I could hear Latrel sigh over the phone.

“Huff and puff all you want to,” I said. My feelings were hurt, and my eyes started to water. I felt so excluded from his life. “I have to go. Mr. Wright is calling me.”

“Mama, please don’t be upset with me. I can tell you’re upset, but just know that I do my best. I’m not perfect, all right? I didn’t tell you about my first time, because I was confused about what I was going through. I thought I was in love.”

“But you felt comfortable enough to tell your father?”

“I didn’t tell him until much, much later. And that’s because he asked me. You never asked me until today. Today is when I told you the truth.”

I swallowed hard, wiping a tear that had fallen down my cheek. I hadn’t had those kinds of conversations with Latrel, and shame on me for putting all the blame on him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I love you, and I look forward to meeting your girlfriend.”

“Love you too, Mama. See you tomorrow.”

I slowly laid the phone on the receiver and got back to work. Thank God it was Friday.

It was almost noon, and I was making lunch in the kitchen while running my mouth on the phone with my girlfriend Monica. We’d been friends for as long as I could remember. Monica had never been married, and she loved to live the single life. She had two children, a son, who was in his second year of college, and a daughter, who recently moved to California to pursue an acting career. Monica had done a good job raising her children as a single parent, but she was never pleased with their choices. I sat at the kitchen table, cracking up when she called her daughter, Jade, a joke.

“That’s not nice, Monica. That girl is doing her best, and you should be proud of her.”

“Oh, I’m very proud. But that doesn’t mean she hasn’t been working my nerves. That girl is rotten to the core. I don’t know how she thinks she’s going to gain her independence by moving to California.”

“Well, it’s a start. And you have no one but yourself to blame for spoiling those kids as much as you have.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more. Some parents are crushed when their children leave the nest, but me, girl, I’ve been on cloud nine. You know I’ve been traveling a lot. Getting out of this house, which I’ve been cooped up in for so long, makes me feel like a new woman. You should get your butt out of the house sometimes too. Life is too short, and you’ve got to let your hair down and cut loose.”

“Eventually, I will. I’m just so out of touch. Being with Reggie for all those years was all I knew.”

“I understand that, but Reggie isn’t coming back anytime soon. You need to go out and meet people. Every time you go somewhere, you got men flocking all around you, but it’s as if you look straight through them.”

“I know, and at times, I’m a little confused by that. I’m not what society considers a fit woman, and even though Reggie never complained about my weight, I do think he wanted me to lose weight.”

“Are you crazy? To hell with society. There is no doubt in my mind that Reggie was satisfied with your looks. Y’all just had other issues. You are blessed with curves that every woman should have, especially black women. I envy you, and don’t you be over there trying to cut back on nothing. If you lose one single pound, I’ll hurt you.”

I laughed, knowing my best friend was right. My divorce from Reggie was about him not being able to get it together, not me.

“Okay, Monica, you got a point. I’m cool with my looks, but sometimes surprised by the attention I get.”

“I’m glad you got my point, and as long as you keep that big ole booty in shape and that waistline perfected, you shouldn’t have any problems meeting men.”

“So, to hell with my brains, huh? Forget that I’m a wonderful woman who—”

“Yes, to hell with that for now. Most men aren’t interested in those kinds of things until they get to know you. Just make sure the inside, though, looks just as good as the outside.”

We laughed but agreed. Monica continued on, trying to convince me to stop staying cooped up in the house. I told her I would think about going to a nightclub with her. Just as I was taking a homemade pepperoni pizza out of the oven, I heard the front door open. I stood with a big bright smile plastered on my face and waited for Latrel to follow the Italian aroma into the kitchen. When he stepped into the kitchen, as I expected, he was not alone. Reggie was with him, and so was a young white girl. I was frozen in time. My smile vanished, and my body felt as if cement had been poured over it. Monica was still running her mouth, and when she yelled my name, I snapped out of it.

“Girl, what’s wrong with you?” she yelled. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“I . . . I got to go. I think I’ve seen a ghost.”

I hung up on Monica and wiped my saucy hands on my apron.