**unedited and subject to change before book is released**
“Can you believe this negro had the nerve to tell me that he’s going to call the police on me for trashing his house?” I asked Simone before taking a sip of my Ameretto sour cocktail.
It’s been a few days since I wrecked havoc on Mike’s crib, and Simone suggested that we go out, to celebrate my ‘almost’ divorce from Mike. We’re sipping on drinks at The Purple Palace jazz club while enjoying music from the house band.
“I told you he was gonna call the cops on you. What did you expect, messing up his stuff like that?”
I waved her comment off with a nonchalant wave. “Girl, I ain’t worried about Mike calling the police on me.”
“You should be.”
“I’m not. I told him that if he calls the police on me, he’ll just be bringing unwanted attention to the little side-hustle he has going on…and he definitely doesn’t want that.”
“What side hustle?”
“Apparently, he’s selling weed, and God only knows what else.”
Simone’s eyes widened. “How do you know he’s selling drugs?”
“Because I found his stash while I was looking for my suitcase in the closet the other day. And it’s not just a little bag or two…there was at least twenty bags of weed in there, along with a scale and about one thousand dollars in cash.”
Simone gasped. “Mike’s a drug dealer?!” she said, a little too loudly.
“Keep your voice down,” I said, while casting a quick glance at the bartender, who was trying to pretend like he wasn’t ear hustling on our conversation.
“I’m just saying, how did you not know your husband…”
“That’s my soon-to-be-ex-husband,” I corrected her.
“Okay, your soon-to-be-ex-husband was selling drugs in your house?”
“Hell, I went to work everyday, and I put in long hours at the salon; I didn’t have time to sit around and watch Mike’s every move.”
“What if he gets caught and he tries to say that you were in on it the whole time? You’ll be going to jail for real.”
“I thought about that. That’s why I didn’t do what I started to do and keep the money. I left everything where it was. So, if he gets caught, he’s on his own…him and that little slut he left me for.”
Before Simone could respond, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to find an older man who looked to be in his fifties, standing there grinning at me.
“Hey, sweet thang…you wanna dance with me?”
I gave him a quick once-over. “No thanks…maybe later,” I told him with my nose turned up in the air.
“I’ma hold you to that,” he winked before sauntering off.
“Why you didn’t wanna dance with him?” Simone asked me after he left.
“Girl, dude is rocking a Al Sharpton press-and-curl and gold chains; he looks like Jerome off Martin. All he’s missing is the gold teeth.”
Simone cracked up laughing. “He doesn’t look that bad.”
“Well let me call him back over here and you can dance with him, then.”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Besides, I don’t want no old man; I like my men young and strong with good stamina…like that cute tenderoni who played Kunta Kinte in the new Roots. Did you see it?”
“I watched some of it…until I started getting mad, then I changed the channel.”
“Girrlll, well I tuned in every night so I could see Kunta. He made my kitty moist looking at him running through those African jungles, all hot and sweaty…” I said while squirming on my barstool and fanning myself. “He could definitely get it.”
Simone just looked at me and rolled her eyes. “Him and any other man under thirty. You better leave those young boys alone.”
“The hell I will. I love me some young men. I can train them just right.”
“Obviously you couldn’t train Mike,” Simone said sarcastically under her breath but loud enough for me to hear.
“Oh, that was such a low blow, bitch. You didn’t even have to go there.”
“That was pretty mean, huh?”
“Hell yeah, it was. You can buy me another drink to make it up to me.”
While Simone called the bartender over, I looked around the room, trying to see if I could find a potential candidate to spend the rest of the night with when we leave here. So far, all I see are men my age and older. I was glad when Simone suggested to come to this lounge because the age requirement to get in is twenty-five and above, which means there are men here young enough to be my type. The only bad part about it is I have to compete with these hot in the tail, twenty-something year old girls walking around with their silicone enhanced booties and tata’s on display, soaking up all the attention from the young cuties I’m hoping to attract.
My eyes landed on two men sitting at the opposite end of the bar. I caught eyes with one of them, who smiled and winked an eye at me, flirting with me. He has a perfect set of pearly whites, and his baby face suggests that he can’t be more than twenty-five. He’s wearing a white t-shirt, the sleeves hugging his bulging bi-ceps and showing off his muscles. He just doesn’t know- winking at me will get his little young ass molested up in here.
Our eyes talked to each other from where we sat. No words were needed…it was clear we both liked what we saw. I’m glad that I wore this low cut, v-neck top- so he can get an eyeful of my cleavage, which he can’t take his eyes off of. My boobies put Tocarra’s from America’s Next Top Model’s to shame, and I loved to show them off. Since he’s watching, I’ll put on a show for him. I took an ice cube from my glass and sucked on it seductively before accidentally-on purpose letting it slip out of my hands and down the front of my shirt. I took my time about digging the ice cube out of my shirt. By the time I removed it, my nipples were standing at attention. I looked up at him and winked.
“You are so thirsty,” Simone said, her voice full of disgust.
“I sure am, and I’m hoping that sexy piece of chocolate will quench my thirst as soon as we get up out of here.”
“After that pathetic show you just put on, I’ll bet his little dick is hard as hell right now.”
“Lawd, I hope so. I’m about to go find out. Excuse me.” I stood up, preparing to make my way over to where the two chocolate God’s were sitting.
“You are not about to go over there?! You don’t even know them,” Simone exclaimed.
I don’t know why she always acts so shocked at how forward I am when it comes to men. When I see something I want, I go for it…I’ve always been this way. “I sure am. I’m about to give him something he can feel, baby…and he’s gonna like it, too,” I laughed, singing the words to Aretha Franklin’s classic song that was remade by En Vogue in the 90’s. I adjusted my girls, making sure they were sitting up just right in my push-up bra. In my mind, Giving Him Something He Can Feel played in the background as I sexily sashayed over to sit down on the stool beside who I hope to be rolling around the bed in the throes of passion with by the end of the night. I’m not looking for a husband to replace Mike…not just yet; but I am not opposed to getting my freak on while I’m waiting on my divorce to be finalized.