Page 17 of False Start
Zina snorts from over my shoulder. “Bryant is so going to break Leslie’s heart.”
I move my phone from her view to keep her out of my business.
Zhanna: Bryant needs to find a new woman of the house, because it ain’t me.
Leslie: Be careful what you wish for, Suga.
He sends a picture of an ivory fabric I’m sure he could write a thesis on.
Leslie: I’m thinking this is the one.
I roll my eyes, choose to ignore it, and get back to focusing on all the players, except one. My phone must buzz a thousand times in my back pocket during the morning. Leslie is persistent when he’s got a bone to chew on, but I’m not going to play into Bryant’s hand.
When we break for lunch, my ex follows me down the hall to my office. I can’t wait to throw every swear word in the book at him for telling my own friend to refer to me as the lady of the house. I turn the corner to my office and come to face Leslie seated in my chair with his smoothly -shaved legs crossed and his feet on the desk.
Before I can ask him what the hell he’s doing here, he twirls a perfect dreadlock around his finger and bats his eyes at the man behind me. “Ooooo, look at all those mus-cles.” And then he mumbles unintelligible words under his breath that are very likely X-rated.
“Hey, Leslie,” Bryant greets, and then he averts his attention to me. “Tell me what’s wrong, baby.”
Zina skids to a halt behind my ex and looks around him. “Par-tay!”
“Why in the hell are you ignoring my beautiful ass?” Leslie demands.
“Zhanna, we need to talk.” Bryant adds.
And then Coach Jed Jones sticks his head in the office. “I had no idea you were married to Hudson. Huh. Go figure.” And then he pops back out and goes on his way.
My office phone rings, and for some reason it sounds shriller than usual. I walk past my neighbor to answer, but Leslie beats me to it. “Zhanna Hale’s office.”
We wrestle over the phone, although it’s really more like he’s holding one of his large tree trunks of an arm out with his hand on my forehead. No matter how hard I push I can’t reach him. So I switch tactics and start swinging my arms to grasp at anything that will give me purchase against the giant.
“Give me the phone.”
“No, I’m sorry, Fletcher, Mrs. Hale-Hudson is no longer interested in your services.”
“I’m going to kill you in your sleep,” I threaten.
Fletcher is my real estate agent. I’ve been waiting for his phone call all morning, and now, I’m going to look like a crazy person if I call back and make up an elaborate story to explain Leslie’s mistake.
“Is that Fletcher Carson from school?” Bryant asks, jealousy laced in his voice.
Zina volunteers entirely too much information. “Yep. Fletcher has been trying to get in your wife’s panties since he found out she was available and back in New Orleans.”
“Isn’t he a real estate agent now?” my ex asks. How does he know shit like this about our college peers? “Why do you need a real estate agent?”
“Well, I guess my plan to sell my house under the shade of night and sneak out of the country is blown to shit now,” I quip.
Otto walks into my office and stops in his tracks when he sees Leslie. “Does he work here now?”
Leslie returns the receiver to the cradle without a goodbye. “You wish I’d bring my fairy godmother ass in here and bring this place to life. I’d decorate the shit out of this place. Can I get an amen?”
“Amen,” Zina sing-songs.
I feel pressure in my chest, my head begins to pound, and pure hot anger wraps around the base of my spine. I don’t know who to yell at first.
“Enough!” I yell. “Out.”
“Baby,” Bryant protests.
