I cannot let my neighbors see me like this. I grabbed the long faux fur coat that Iesha let me borrow last month.
I walked slowly toward the car, tripping twice in such ridiculous shoes, hoping that no one was outside that I knew. Still, I couldn’t believe I was doing this—and to think, she’s only met this guy once. I thought she’d hooked me up with a prospect, not a stranger.
Dear God, I just hope he’s cute . . . and not expecting to get any.
• • •
The GPS directions were perfect and as I neared the exit, my stomach started doing somersaults. Exiting, I decided to pull over and collect myself before turning onto his street. I parked the car in an empty lot.
Where are her tissues, towels—something. I scoured quickly underneath the passenger-side seat and pulled out a silver flask.
“Please, God, forgive me.” I took a swig of the vile-tasting substance, but it didn’t help.
“Vodka!” I chuckled. I pulled down the driver’s-side mirror and patted away beads of sweat from my forehead.
I pulled back onto the road when my purse started buzzing. “What the hell?”
Turning onto General Drive, I stopped at the entrance of the gated community and checked my phone. Iesha had sent a text message.
“Hey, sis. Hope you’re close. I txt James and said you were running late. Remember to have fun!”
“Okay,” I responded.
The gate code was already programmed into the GPS and his home was barely two minutes away. I pulled into his circular driveway, admiring the white stucco, two-story home. James’s lawn was well manicured with gorgeous oak trees scattered throughout.
“I can do this . . . I need to pray.”
My silent two-minute prayer turned into a long, ten-minute one. I swallowed hard, taking one last gulp from the flask, and carefully placed it back underneath the seat. I grabbed the duffel bag and opened the car door.
“Amen.”
I approached the front door and tried not to wince as my stomach started turning again. My nerves were getting the best of me.
I’m stronger than this. Just eat and go home, Yana. And no more sisterly bets. Ever. I rang the doorbell and waited. After getting no response, I went to knock and mistakenly pushed the door open.
“Hello, is anyone home?”
I looked past the entryway and noticed that there was a portrait of a couple hung on the wall over the fireplace to my right. She was scantily clad in white lingerie and they were both holding glasses of wine—ready to kiss. Candle sconces framed the portrait. I looked down to see a small round table covered in a red cloth. In the center of the table were a long-stemmed red rose, a glass of white wine, and a note:
Good evening, my love. Please leave your indiscretions at the door. This glass of wine will assist you. Your instructions are down the hall.
My Love? Instructions? Indiscretions? I was flabbergasted—and confused.
I picked up the glass of wine and started down the hall, taking small sips, remembering I’d just had a little vodka. I entered the next room—a small sitting room. James was obviously a lover of art because the walls had more artwork of men and women in different sexual situations. Candlelight danced everywhere and I was starting to wonder if I would be eating dinner at all. I spotted another table, this time with a purple tablecloth, another glass of wine, and a second note:
Indulge me with another glass of wine. I promise this will be the best night of your life. Prepare to have fun and we will do everything we talked about.
What does he mean, “Everything we talked about”? Oh, my God! Does he think I’m—No, she wouldn’t do that to me. I’d never spoken to him and Esha said that they’ve talked and texted and that she told him about me.
My heart was beating hard in my chest, and I thought about leaving before I got in too deep.
No, I’ll simply greet him, thank him for the wine, and leave.
I sat on a white plush sofa and continued to sip. After I’d finished half the glass, I wasn’t as nervous but still slightly apprehensive.
Where is he?
The candlelight had me in a trance as I ran my fingers across the sofa with my eyes closed, feeling the softness of the fabric . . .