I picked a fantastic hotel. Tonight, they have live music. The front desk gave me an itinerary for the week, and it even included ornament making. I rush to the lounge and spot Daiya.
She opens her mouth to complain, then a smile spreads across her face. “I like that.”
I wiggle my bare shoulder at her, and we laugh.
"Dr. Prince, your table is ready." The server steps forward, and we follow.
"Right on time," Daiya sings. The moment we sit, she asks, "Where have you been?"
"The business center. Girl, in my rush to leave out of town, I left my laptop." I talk around a piece of bread. "I still can't believe I did that. Anyway, I'm working and trying to write a little. But it's hard to think with people popping in and out."
“You can use mine.”
“No, I’ll make it work.”
I search the menu, and my stomach grumbles. Between stressing over my job and completing my work tasks on vacation, I forgot to eat.
“Wasn’t the point of doing something different to get away from work?” Daiya asks.
I roll my eyes, but she’s right. I’m ignoring calls from the office, text messages from Denzel, and I flew across the country to work twelve-hour days. And those fancy chairs in that center are cute but not comfortable.
“Yeah, but I sort of left without permission.”
“You what?”
“I had approval from HR but not Mr. Graves.”
“Are you insane?”
“Maybe. Anyway, I’d rather push that man from my mind.”
“Then why are you still working on vacation?”
“Because I want a job when I get back. But… that’s not what I want to talk about. I want to eat and kick it with my girl.” I don’t want to bother Daiya with my work drama, my career drama, or that I met a man that ghosted me on the first day.
I pick the biggest steak on the menu. This is the most frivolous I’ve ever been with money. But why come all the way to New York to eat off the McDonalds dollar menu?
The server takes our menus, and I stare at Daiya. "So, what's up with you having a little date?"
“Girl, what, that mess I met down here earlier?”
“And he had you out here dressing like that?” I look around the room and back at her. “Is he here?”
“Honey, I prayed the nut would be asleep by now. I ain’t got time for that.”
“Dang, did you at least give the man a shot? We’re supposed to be trying something new. Open yourself up a little.”
“Quanie, if I opened myself to that nut, I’d be somewhere praising Buddha drinking Bud Light. It ain’t happening.”
I roll my eyes. “How about I pick your next date?”
“Here we go. I feel one of your college stunts coming on.”
"Feel what you like. I'm about to help you get out of your own way." I sit up taller, searching the room, and see the man that almost ran me over in the elevator earlier. For a second, I wonder if he's staring at me, but it's not me. It's Daiya.
Hum...
I smile, continuing. "How about I pick him, and you go out at least once, a full date, and you give him a real shot?”
"Okay, if we're gonna play the game like that, I'll pick for you, and you have to do the same thing you're asking of me."
Her little messy smirk has my skin crawling because she’s never picked a date for me. Hell, I can’t recall her picking her own date.
“Hold up.” I wave my hands. “I don’t have a problem with going out. Remember, I’m the one here to share my cookie and get over this drought.”
“There you go with that cookie mess. Keep on, those chocolate chips gonna get your tail in some deep stuff.”
If only she knew. I take a long drag of my wine. "They need to bring your damn food because you're getting on my nerves already."
“Quanie, your nerves must be already on ten because I’m not doing anything I haven’t always done. Now, suck that wine up so you can leave me alone.” She’s huffing, and this is getting serious.
I got her suck that wine. Sugar daddy in the corner has his eyes glued on her like she's water and he's thirsty. "Okay. You said I get to pick your date, and you get to pick mine?" I roll my tongue over my lips, ready for the showdown.
“What’s up, Quanie? Come on with it, Boo.”
Ahhhh shyte!
"You ain't ready. But I got you." I smile, and the thought of this little dare sends my heart racing. "Sister to sister, my word is my bond.”
It’s a thing we do. It’s a way we issue challenges that leave the other no room to weasel out. We don’t throw them around, so when we do, it’s real. And now I have to contend with knowing I’ll have to go out with her pick and really try.
I groan. She'll have me on a date with some bible-thumping pastor. My cookie's going to dry up, and I'll return home still celibate—and not by choice. But I'm down to take one for the team. I'll do whatever it takes to get my sister from under her parents' control and to experience life in NYC.
“Sister to sister, my word is my bond,” she repeats. “Okay, who’s going first?”
“I have my pick.” I look over, hoping sugar daddy doesn’t make me check him about my sister. Then I smile and tip my head to the side. “The gentleman over there in the booth. Expensive suit. Salt-and-pepper hair. Fine wine.”
“Quanie, are you serious?” Her eyes pop out of her head like a cartoon character. “That dude looks old enough to be my father.”
“Yes! Professor, can I please state the facts of your situation?” I sit forward, holding up a finger. “Number one. Your daddy is a can short of a six-pack. His crazy tail will charter a plane and fly to wherever you are and drag your butt back to Louisiana. And you’re grown. So, you need a man with a backbone.” I look over at my choice, hoping he’s ready.
I continue, “Number two. You’re a college professor, homeowner, own bank account, etcetera, etcetera. We don’t need no broke ninjas either.”
She wags her head, and I think my case sounds pretty good.
“And number three. You need something different, and well, he’s about as different as you’re going to get.”
She opens her mouth to respond, but I cut her off. “And… He’s my pick. You have to go.”
“You heifer,” she huffs. “Quanie, but the man is white. Are you serious?”
“Heifer?” I laugh. “This is going to be gooooood. And for the record, he’s white and old. So, yes, I’m serious.”
Dead-ass serious!
The shocked look on her face is hysterical. I would take a picture if I thought she wouldn't slap the taste out of my mouth. "Okay, I'm ready."
I scan, knowing payback is a bitch. Visually, I spot a couple of gag picks and pray she doesn't pick the one with the shiny bald spot. Her gaze lands over my shoulder, and I know the moment she finds my future date.
"Okay, PawPaw, it is," she concedes. "Now you, Ms. Thang, see that guy standing over there by the bar looking around like he's casing the joint. That's your cookie monster right there."