Page 65 of Hellcat Barbies: Imani
“I’m glad to hear that because I love you too.”
“Then, we have two things to celebrate. What are we going to do?”
“You’ll see. Now, tell me about your new job.”
With a smile etched on my face, I grab my phone and two of my 7Days soft vanilla croissants from the pantry then walk to my living room. While eating my sweet treat, I get comfortable on my loveseat, then lean back and talk to the man I love about CVOR surgeries.
“What’s the weather like there?” my mom asks and I look at my weather app.
“Forty-seven now but the high is going to be fifty-eight. It’s going to be a nice day. What about there?”
“About the same but everyone says that this isn’t normal. They say it’s usually a little warmer this time of the year. The cold normally doesn’t set in until November. I have the window open in the kitchen and it feels good. I don’t need an AC or heater. But why are you calling so early? Are you at the hospital?”
“No. I’m off today,” I say, telling a half truth.
My parents still don’t know that I was fired because I really didn’t want them worrying about me. But now, I don’t have to tell them at all. Yesterday, Karen called me back and I received and signed my written offer for the CVOR Surgical Tech position. I’m returning to Mount Sinai in January with an eight thousand dollar a year raise.
“So, what’s on your agenda for the day?” she asks.
“Nothing but laundry for now,” I tell her. Hopefully, I’m seeing Daymir later. He has some business to take care of at the warehouse this morning so laundry will occupy my time while he’s working. “Where’s daddy?”
“At Publix, getting us some fresh fruit. Those moon and cotton candy grapes he likes are in season and I’m going to make a fruit salad.”
“Well, tell him to call me when he gets back.”
“I will, baby. Get some rest. You work too much.”
“I’m resting a lot. I love you,” I say.
“Love you, too.”
When I end the call, I sit up in my bed then turn on my television. My mom is right; it’s still kind of early. It’s not even nine yet so I’m in no hurry to wash my clothes. I’m still basking in the aftermath of last night. Daymir and DJ came over for dinner and afterwards, Daymir put me to sleep in the most beautiful and nastiest way. When they left around six, I didn’t bother to move and I don’t want to move now. As I scroll through my apps to see what I want to watch, my cell vibrates. It’s Hazel texting.
Hazel:gm. Are you going to the track today?
Me: gm. Not today. Chilling until Daymir is off. Are you?
Hazel:No. Working too but we need to link up this week sometime. I think we need to start a car club here in CF.
At her last text, I sit all the way up because I’ve been actually thinking the same thing. When I first moved here, I talked to Breezy about maybe starting a Hellcat Barbies here. She founded and started ours in Diamond Cove and I didn’t want to branch off without her permission. That vision has changed since I’ve been racing at the tracks. I love it there and I love the diversity of vehicles. I still want a car club but it can’t be the Hellcat Barbies. The name has to be more representative of the diversity of the ladies.
Me: I’ve been thinking the same. We can definitely link up and talk about it.
Hazel:Cool. I’ll hit you up in a few days after I know my schedule.
Me: Perfect
I slide off my bed and enter my bathroom. Thanks to my mom, I’ve been up an hour and my bladder is now begging to be relieved. After I use it, I decide to go ahead and hop in my shower to officially start my day. So, I brush my teeth, gargle, wash my face, then pull my locs up into a high bun. I step into my shower and take my time washing. When I get out, I moisturize my body with my favorite cocoa butter body oil gel and throw on one of my comfy hoodie dresses.
When I make it downstairs, I pop a pecan dark roast cup in my Keurig, doctor up a mug with a half a pack of instant mocha cappuccino, one packet of raw sugar, and a splash of heavy whipping cream, then start it. While my coffee drips, Iplace a cinnamon crunch bagel in my toaster and take my honey pecan cream cheese out of the fridge.
A few minutes later, I’m sitting in my living room, enjoying my bagel and coffee, and watching the latest season of my favorite cooking competition show. As soon as the main chef challenge is described, there are light taps on my front door followed by the ring of my video bell. I open my app and see a woman holding a big ass bouquet of flowers.
“How can I help you?” I ask through my doorbell app.
“I have a delivery for Imani Marks,” she says.
“One second please.”
