Page 43 of Crash: Love in Scrubs
“Bro, am I dreaming? You asking about safety ratings? Since when you care about anything but horsepower and leather seats? Baby? What baby?”
“Thursday after work,” I said, disconnecting before he could psychoanalyze my whole damn life.
Bobby had been a solid friend since I arrived in Silverrun five years ago. Making friends wasn’t easy for me. I was busy a lot and didn’t need a bunch of people around. I liked my peace and quiet. But when his wife Alicia got that paralysis diagnosis, he came to me desperate for my help. We both decided we weren’t accepting that bullshit. Six months later, Alicia was walking again, slowly, but walking on her own. He promised I’d always have access to anything on his lot after that.
I hoped Sametra would love it, but even more than that, I hope she accepts it. I settled back into bed, careful not to wake her. I pulled the covers over her shoulder and placed a soft kiss on it. Tonight was going to be torture, but I could wait for her. She’d tell me when she was ready.
I let out a yawn as my mind drifted to Thursday night. Dinner with her people, I prayed I didn't fuck it up. I could be arrogant; I couldn't lie about that. But with Sametra, I tucked all that away until it was necessary. My mind drifted to that smile I couldn’t wait to see when she realized I’d been listening to everything she’d told me about needing reliable transportation. She was going to either love it or hate it. Either way, she was going to fight me on it at first, that was just who she was. Independent to a fault. But eventually, she’d see it for what it was: me taking careof what I considered important to me. Like I’d promised from day one.
The thought of Sametra’s reaction made me smile as I closed my eyes. Thursday couldn’t come fast enough.
THURSDAY NIGHT DINNER
Me: I hate that bum ass nigga FR. Who the fuck did he think he was popping up at my house. And how did he get my damn address?
Winnie: What did Dr. Big Daddy say?
Me: Is that sticking? We not doing funny nicknames now, fake asses.
Halo: Girl, ain’t a muthafuckin thing funny about that man. It’s all big dick energy. Sorry, he’s perfect Meechie.
Me: Ain’t that about a bitch. LOL!
I laughed at my friends, especially Halo pulling out the nickname she gave me when we first met. I slipped my phone back in my purse before checking my makeup in my compact mirror. I’d been worked up about Ashe all week. His audacity was beyond me. I was baffled that he thought he still had access to me like that. And the way Malik handled him, was still making my pussy leak every time I thought about it. I was struggling to hold off on letting him get a taste.
His ass needed to stay off social media before it got his ass shot. The advice and funny jokes about baby mama’s and baby daddy’s was funny until it wasn’t. I wasn't interested in Ashe, and he damn sure couldn’t just pop up on me. I didn’t find anything funny.
Tonight wasn’t about Ashe, though. It was about Malik.
My nerves were louder than the patrons in the dining area, and Sheena’s somehow felt smaller than usual. Lorana made sure that Sheena’s had a vibe that made you want to sit back and get comfortable. She’d always say the more they enjoyed themselves, the longer they stayed and the more money they spent. Sheena’s had become a lot of people’s favorite place. Normally, the restaurant felt spacious and welcoming, not so much tonight. Someone new would be in our mix
I grew up helping Lorana, learning how to cook and run a business. This place was my second home. But tonight, being here was driving me crazy, and I couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t the food, I knew my southern boy would love Lorana’s pot roast, fried cabbage, and jalapeno honey cornbread.
My southern boy? I caught myself smiling. That sounded possessive as hell, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. He felt like mine already. I was starting to sound like him.
That feeling was exactly why tonight mattered so much. Malik was meeting with the family tonight. Not as Dr. Holloway, Samaj’s physical therapist, not even as the fine man who happened to be around when I needed a ride. He was coming as Malik, the man who kissed me breathless in my foyer before leaving on Sunday, whose lap I fit in perfectly, and who made it entirely too easy to fall for him.
I was falling for him.
“You alright, baby?” Lorana asked, smoothing the white tablecloth like it hadn’t already been smoothed three times. I could tell she was nervous too but trying to hide it behind her usual fussing over things being perfect. I hadn’t brought a man around in years. This was also her baby, and she never half assed it. It was homage to her sister Sheena, who died from breast cancer. Sheena loved cooking, loved the art of food and feeding people to show love. After she passed, Lorana left her state job and opened this southern soul food cafe in her memory. It was the neighborhood spot because of the live music and poetry nights.
“I’m good,” I lied, adjusting the strap on my peach wrap sundress for the fourth time. It accentuated my hips, and the subtle v shaped neckline showed a little cleavage, enough to entice him but not enough to have my dad judging me. It was just right and made my skin glow. My nerves and I had gone to war over what to wear. I’d changed into and out of it twice before deciding it was perfect for tonight. Honestly, he probably wouldn’t care what I had on. That was the energy he gave me any time he was around me. I was beautiful in everything. “Just hungry.”
Which wasn’t entirely a lie. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, mostly because I’d been too busy pacing my damn kitchen and pretending I wasn’t second-guessing everything about this evening. Not the dinner, this was our standing tradition, sacredand unbreakable. But bringing Malik into it felt... different. Permanent. It felt like a statement. I hadn’t even gotten the dick yet. The thought made me snort-laugh, earning a side-eye from Lorana.
“I'm fine. And you stop fussing. He’s so laid back, you’ll love him.”
“Mhhm, you need laid back.”
“I do, but he knows how to turn it up if need be. It’s so sexy, Lorana.”
“I bet it is, girl. I love a little roughneck in my man.”
“Lorana, please,” I laughed squeezing her hand because she got it. I needed ease. I was always wrestling with something, whether it be fires, fears, emotions, with Samaj, or just with my own doubt. The fight had never stopped, only slowed down.
“He’s so serious,” Lorana mentioned pointing to my dad who was already seated at our usual corner booth, thumbing through the laminated menu like he didn’t already know he was getting the fried pork chops with mac and cheese and green beans. He’d been surprisingly calm about tonight ever since our talk on Saturday, just asking what time to expect him and reminding me that first impressions went both ways.
Samaj wheeled himself up to the table, looking surprisingly put-together in a Polo I’d ironed for him this morning. “Ma, you look nervous. It’s just Dr. Holloway.”
