Page 5 of After Him, There Was You
“I can’t wear this. This isn’t me.”
“Yes, you can, and you will,” I asserted, handing her the black strappy heels in my hand. “Besides, if it wasn’t you, why was it even in your closet?”
“That’s beside the point,” she chastised. “Eva, look at my hips. They look too wide in this, and my cleavage is out.” Displeasure was evident in her voice, and it was comical,primarily because Tara was the type of person to volunteer for a root canal if it would mean not being forced out of her comfort zone.
“Your dress is giving exactly what it’s supposed to give, and that’s body. People pay for the hips you are sashaying around with, and don’t get me started on your melons, which the president of the itty-bitty titty committee would gladly embrace,” I teased, pointing to myself and the B-cup sized cleavage I only had because I breastfed two greedy babies.
Instead of continuing her failing trope of fighting me on it, Tara laughed and finally put on her shoes, and when she was finished, we walked out of the house all smiles, ready for our night.
Thankfully, it took us little to no time to get to Club Déjà Vu where the birthday party was being held.
“Eva… Eva Jacobs! Is that you?” a vaguely familiar voice called out as we prepared ourselves to get in the VIP line with the other patrons.
Though the voice sounded reminiscent of one belonging to an old high school associate, I didn’t want to get my hopes up too high until my eyes were able to confirm my suspicion. Mentally preparing myself to graciously spin around on my heels to put a face to the intriguing voice, I was ready to do my best to act as if I didn’t know he would be at his cousin’s birthday party which was taking place at his brother’s nightclub.
“Zeke Simmons?” I stated in a questioning tone as if I was unsure of his identity while drinking in all his honey-hued glory.
Zeke was the type of man who defined what fine was. From his freshly twisted dreads which were neatly styled into a manbun, to his perfect sun-kissed skin, chiseled facial features, piercing hazel eyes, tall stature, broad shoulders, and his overall debonair aura, Zeke was a walking fantasy, and he knew it.
“Damn, girl. You still look good enough to eat,” he complimented as he fully stepped into my space, grabbing my hand as if he was claiming me for the night, which I wasn’t completely against.
“Hey, Tarana. It’s been a long time,” he greeted, giving her a side hug.
Tara accepted the hug while looking at me through love blind eyes. I loved how much she wanted love for me, but she was alone in the sentiment. While I longed for love, I’d accepted the fact of never obtaining love aside from the love of my sons, my family, and my small host of friends.
Ironically, I wanted Tara to experience genuine love more than I wanted it for myself. She was such an amazing person and if nothing else, she deserved the love she effortlessly distributed out to the people she came in contact with.
“Y’all, follow me inside. I can’t have y’all waiting outside like you’re regular,” Zeke spoke, pulling me in the direction of the entrance. “Especially you,” he added, low enough for only me to hear.
Following him into the club, I didn’t ask any questions. It was nice to have a man lead me for once, and if only for the night, I was going to enjoy it.
Chapter 3: My Boo- Zane Simmons
Looking around at the boxes decorating the living and dining areas of my new house, I knew I had more than enough on my plate, and I’d made the right decision in declining my little brother’s request for me to step out for the night.
They were celebrating my cousin O’dell’s birthday at Club Déjà Vu,and while I wasn’t in attendance, I made sure the party was sponsored by me as a way to make up for my absence. As the owner of the club, all it took was a phone call to the manager to make it happen.
Aside from me needing to get my space in order so I could stop stepping around boxes every time I made a move, the club scene really didn’t do it for me anymore.
In my younger years, you didn’t have to ask me twice because I stayed in a VIP section, surrounded by bottles and women willing to sell their soul for a dollar. However, as a thirty-five-year-old man with more stamps on my passport than I cared to count, it just wasn’t my preferred scene anymore, nor was it my idea of a good time.
I was at the age where I had done all I wanted to do alone, and I was ready to find a wife, have some kids, spoil them, and let them reap all the rewards from the blood, sweat, and tears I had put in over the years.
As I grabbed a box cutter, prepared to break down a few freshly unpacked boxes, my phone chirped from its place in the pocket of my sweatpants.
Glancing at the notification, I saw it was a text message from my younger brother, Zeke.
Before I had the chance to open the text message, a call was coming through from him.
“She’s looking good, isn’t she?” Zeke questioned as soon as I picked up the call. Considering the time, I knew he hadto have already been at the club, but since his background was quiet, I knew he was more than likely in my office which was soundproof.
“Who is looking good?”
“Man, you didn’t look at the picture I sent you?”
“You must be talking about the text message you didn’t give me time to open.”
“Here I am trying to get you through the door to get another chance with her, and hereyou areblocking your own blessing,” he preached. “You need to move expeditiously, big brother.”
