“Quanie, what on earth are you doing?”
“Hey, Sissy!” I sing with my hand in the air. “How… was your day?” My words sound shady, and I’m sure she sees through my attempts to play it cool.
“Quanesha Rachelle Montgomery, are you drunk?” The squeak in her voice has me relaxing a little and on the verge of laughing.
“Can you get drunk from drinking wine?”
“I wouldn’t know. What’s going on over there? Why are you drinking, and you have work tomorrow? And why didn’t you pick up on FaceTime?”
“Damn, which question do you want me to answer first?”
"All of them, and keep your cussing to yourself."
“Yes, Madea.”
We pause and burst out laughing.
“Quanie, it’s a miracle I don’t have a head full of silver hair messing with you.”
I smile, waiting for her laughter to die down. I don’t need to see her to know she’s laid back.
“You’d look fly with silver hair.”
“Hush. Now, for real, why are you sitting alone with the television muted drinking wine like a wino?
I sit straight up and search the corners of my living room. “Do you have cameras in my house?”
“No, I don’t need them because I know you.”
“You’re starting to sound a lot like Momma Alma.” Her mother has a gaze that can melt the skin off your face. For years I thought the woman hated me. But after spending countless holidays with them and joining them on several family vacations, I realize she’s like Daiya. She’s tough but would give you the shirt off her back. I can call Momma Alma for anything, and she'll chew me out then verify my address—which she already knows.
“Thank you. I take that as a compliment. Stop stalling. Drinking the night before work is unlike you.”
I nod. “I need a break.”
“Why?”
“Because I need room to let my hair down and take stock of what I want. Suddenly, life just feels overwhelming and complicated.”
Daiya doesn’t respond.
I put the phone on speaker. I want to talk with her, but not over the phone. It’s time I look at my life and make some big girl decisions. But I can’t do it here, and I don’t want to do it at home.
“Did I lose you?” I ask.
“No, I’m here. What do you have in mind?”
"What if…" I stare at the TV, and there's snow falling. Must be another Christmas movie. I watch them back-to-back as if I don’t know how they’ll end. How does Hallmark find a million new perfect couples every year?
“Quanie, you’re scaring me. Put me on FaceTime. Now.”
We disconnect and reconnect. I sit on the floor, propping my phone up on the table. The moment I see her face, I have an idea.
“Let’s go to New York City.”
“When?”
“Now.”
“Now?”
“Daiya, please use all of those fancy degrees.”
“And you stop trying to suck me into your crazy plans.”
“Crazy plans? Who? Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“I don’t seem to recall—”
“Skinny dipping…”
“But—”
“Egging…”
“Oh, he deserved it—”
“My Daddy’s tires.”
"Look, you asked for a plan, and I gave you one. And for the record, that shit was legendary."
Her father was suited and booted to follow Daiya on a date. She called me asking for help, and I suggested slashing his tires. And it worked. She didn't have a chaperone because he had two flat tires.
“Quanie, do you how cold it is in New York? My body isn’t used to that type of weather.”
“No, I don’t know. That’s why I want to go besides that old stale body of yours isn’t used to anything, but churching, teaching, and caretaking.”
We laugh, and I'm brushing tears from my eyes. That's another difference between us. Daiya's world is big. Mine consists of Raleigh, Houston, and Los Angeles.
Her family traveled. Mine took road trips between North Carolina and Texas every three to four years. I thought moving to California was like moving to the moon.
“It’s time I expand my world. We can do something we’ve never done before together. Come on.” I whine. “Let’s do Christmas in New York City.”
The more I think about it, the better it sounds. Me. Quanesha Rochelle Montgomery in New York City. Like Sex in the City. Then I catch the vision.
“Girl, say yes?! I can just see myself throwing my cookie all over New York.”
"Your cookie? All right. You can throw that cookie if you want to. You might get something back." We laugh. "If… if I say yes, what the heck are we going to do, Quanie?"
“Whatever and whoever we want.”
“Speak for yourself.”
"Fine. But you will not sit in the hotel like an old lady Daiya. Just leave Professor Prince at home, and let's show New York how we do it."
The line goes silent.
"Please, Daiya. Don't think too much. Say, yes."
“Why do I feel like we’ll need bail money?”
“I don’t know. But if the spirit moves, let the Lord use you.”
“Girl, I can’t with you.” Daiya laughs.
“Book your flight and get your butt there ASAP. I'll find the hotel and book the rooms." I shout. "We're going to New York City, baby!”
Chapter 4
“Excuse me.”
A light tap on my shoulder has me glancing back.
"I'm usually better with things like this, but this place is distractingly beautiful, and now I'm lost."
Her words fill in the gaps where I should breathe. Merrilyn stepped away, and I walked the length of the hallway, completing my last inspection.
“Are you okay?” Her brown eyes round with concern.
“Yes, pardon me. How can I help you?" Before she responds, my body has a few suggestions. Ebony skin, natural hair, bare beautiful face. The hint of laughter lingers on her full lips.
“Can you show me to the business center? How does an assistant leave without her damn laptop?”
I stare.
“I’m sorry, does cussing offend you? I should come with a warning label when I’m stressed.”
“What has you stressed?” I ask.
She rolls her neck back, giving me a quick once over. “Not knowing the location of the business center.”
I guess that was too direct.
“Sure, right this way.” I motion and wait for her to walk. “What brings you to town?”
“Girl’s trip with my best friend.”
"And you're heading to the business center?" I point to the paperwork gathered on her chest.
“Yeah, not by my choice.” She sighs and seems to catch herself. “My B.A.B. is the demanding type. Vacations mean work but from a new location.”
“B.A.B.?”
“Bitch-ass boss.”
I choke and try to hide it with a laugh.
“You said cussing didn’t offend you.”