“Tempest, you have to learn to leave the past in the past. Granted, a lot of nuccas in D.C. are up to no damn good, but Geren seems like he has it going on,” Janessa stated convincingly. “He’s attractive, successful, and currently unattached. You’re attractive, successful, and currently unattached. You would be doing yourself a serious injustice not to at least give the brotha a chance.”
“How do you know so much about Geren?” Tempest asked with mild but amused irritation, the corners of her mouth clearly fighting back a smile.
“I quizzed Dvontè about him, of course. He and I both agree. You and Geren look mad cute together.”
Tempest giggled and turned her back to Janessa, trying to hide the fact she was blushing. “Speaking of Dvontè, I’m extremely proud of you for not leaving the club with him tonight.”
How dare she? “Oh, so now I’m a hoe, huh?”
Tempest came over and gave Janessa a love-slap on her shoulder. “Of course not. That’s not how I meant it.”
“How many different ways are there for you to mean it, heifer?” Janessa was pissed, and not even trying to fake the funk about it. Tempest gave her a blank stare, trying to think of an answer. They both knew she couldn’t. “My one-night stand days are over, Tempest! They have been for a long-ass time! I thought you, of all people, understood that! You’re supposed to be my gurl and shit!”
>
“I am your gurl, you silly goose,” Tempest chuckled, pinching Janessa’s left cheek before heading to the bathroom. “Don’t even get loud up in here with me, sistahgurl. I might have to open a can of whup-ass and beat you down with that pillow.”
“Yeah, right tramp.” Janessa laughed, feeling the tension breaking. “I know you think you’re my second mother, but I can handle my bizness. You just handle yours.”
Tempest poked her head back around the corner. “Just be careful with Dvontè. He has playa written all over him.” Janessa didn’t reply. She just wanted the whole thing to be squashed. “I’ll be out in a few. Make yourself at home, but you know that drill already. Want me to help you pull out the sofa bed?”
“Naw, I got it!” Once Janessa heard the showerhead come on, she searched Tempest’s computer desk for a notepad and pen. By the time Tempest finished doing whatever da hell it was she did to her freakin’ hair three or four times a week, Janessa was ass out.
Some things never change, Tempest thought to herself. When she came out of the bathroom, feeling fresh and rejuvenated, Janessa was sprawled out on the sofa bed, and the covers were on the floor.
When they were in junior high, they would have sleepovers and share Tempest’s twin bed. Janessa used to sleep so damn wild, Tempest nicknamed her Scissorlegs. Janessa would spread her legs wide like a pair of scissors and knock her off the bed onto the floor half the night. Tempest couldn’t count the number of times she had woken up with a backache and bruised thighs, not to mention Janessa’s toe prints all over her.
The ability to do splits in bed probably comes in handy with the brothas, but not in my bed, Tempest thought. That’s why she bought a sofa bed in the first place; when Janessa stayed over, Tempest would still be able to walk in the morning.
Tempest covered her up—an exercise in futility, since everything was destined to hit the floor again five minutes later—and went back in the bathroom to wrap her damp hair up in a silk scarf. She left the television on; Janessa was used to sleeping with noise. There was a crack house right across the street from her parents, with people running in and out every two minutes. Tempest’s neighbors were extremely quiet, so cable had to suffice.
By the time Tempest set her digital alarm clock for ten and threw her I Just Can’t Stand a Broke-Ass Man tee back on, it was damn near 5 A.M. She was exhausted and couldn’t wait to call the hogs. She pulled the comforter back on her queen-size canopy bed and laughed when she spotted a note on her pillow.
She snuggled into her warm bed, propped herself up, and read it:
Tempest,
I know you think this shit is funny because I always write you letters whenever I’m scared to tell you something face-to-face. Well, here goes!
I kind of, sort of, did something tonight that will more than likely piss you off.
You know Marquita is getting married next weekend? I thought it would be a good thing if we took some dates, so . . . Geren and Dvontè will be here to pick us up at three.
It’s time for you to start living again. I’m worried sick about you, and I owe you everything that I am. Let me repay you.
So make sure you get the bomb-ass outfit, preferably something low-cut that shows a lot of leg, and get that freakin’ hair straight. You have a date next week, whether you like it or not!
Love and Kisses,
Janessa
P.S. Don’t even think about waking my ass up for your dumb aerobics class tomorrow! That’s a sorry substitution for fucking, and you know it!
Tempest fell out laughing. She had every intention of waking her ass up. So she made me a date behind my back? The nerve of the huzzy! Little did Janessa know, she had made Tempest’s night. She dozed off with a grin, dreaming about Geren Kincaid. She couldn’t wait to lay her eyes on his fine ass again.
• • •
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this!” Janessa exclaimed, limping into the locker room of the Sports & Health Club. She flung herself down on a wooden bench by a set of lockers and rubbed the small of her back. “I hope you’re happy. Thanks to you, I won’t be able to stand up straight for three days.”