“Hello, Geren.”
“Hey, Tempest!” He pushed the cushion back into place and turned around to look at her. The first thing he noticed were her breasts about to bust out of the dress she had on. “You look great!”
“You don’t have to lie.” Tempest rolled her eyes and came farther into the living room.
“I’m not lying,” Geren replied, hoping the eye rolling didn’t pertain to him messing through her sofa. “I think you’re gorgeous.”
“Not in this dress, I’m not.” Tempest sat down on the arm of the sofa and put her right hand on her hip. “I look like a hooker.”
Geren cleared his throat, trying to think of an appropriate response and keep his eyes off her breasts at the same time. He wasn’t an expert on streetwalkers, but she didn’t look like one to him. The dress wasn’t the most tasteful, but it was the same one Janessa had on when she greeted him at the door. Janessa’s boobs were fully covered, though.
“I didn’t realize both you and Janessa were in the wedding party. Dvontè mentioned that Janessa was, but—”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t realize it either until a couple of hours ago,” Tempest muttered, clucking her tongue in disgust. “Believe me, if I had seen this coming, I would have left town for the weekend.”
Geren could tell Tempest was really disturbed by the recent turn of events and didn’t know quite what to say, so he fell silent.
“Janessa’s cousin Chiquita had a freak accident last night, so I’m her last-minute substitute.”
“I see.” Geren was curious to know what “a freak accident” entailed, and was about to ask when Tempest preempted his question.
“Where’s Dvontè?” she inquired, an edge of suspicion in her voice.
“He’s down in the car.”
“Oh.” He is so trifling, Tempest thought to herself. She wasn’t surprised Dvontè had waited in the car. She knew his type and just hoped Janessa wouldn’t fall for his playa ass too hard.
Geren debated about whether or not to try to feed Tempest the same fabricated explanation he gave Janessa. He decided against it. “By the way, I bought you some—”
“Bomb-ass roses!” Janessa exclaimed as she came bouncing back into the room holding a cobalt-blue glass vase with the flowers inside.
Tempest got up off the arm of the sofa, took the vase, and smelled the fragrant roses. “They’re lovely,” she said, trying to hold back a blush. “Thanks!”
Geren grinned at her, glad to finally see her mood improving. “You’re more than welcome.”
Tempest kind of felt bad for Janessa, since she knew Dvontè hadn’t bought her any flowers.
Janessa seemed to read Tempest’s mind. “Ya’ll ready to bounce, sis?”
Tempest placed the roses on her glass coffee table and then intertwined her arm with Geren’s. He placed his hand over hers and realized she was trembling slightly. She surely couldn’t have been cold, so an “uh-oh” started running track through his mind.
The “uh-oh” turned to an “oh-hell-no” when Tempest made her next statement.
“Janessa, do you mind going on ahead? I’d like to talk to Geren alone for a second.”
“Cool with me, but don’t take too long.” Janessa smacked her lips, pushed the strap of her small handbag farther up on her shoulder, and headed for the door. “If we’re late, Marquita will throw another hissy fit and start in with that crying madness.”
“We’ll be right down,” Tempest assured her, pulling away from Geren and practically pushing Janessa out of the door. She closed it behind her and just stood there, staring at the door frame.
“Is there something wrong, Tempest?”
“Not exactly.” Tempest turned around to face him. He was so close to her, she could feel his minty-fresh breath on her cheek. “I just feel the need to clarify something.”
“And what might that be?” Geren asked, with obvious concern in his voice.
“My appearance,” Tempest blurted out with obvious embarrassment. “Normally, I wouldn’t be caught dead in a get-up like this.”
Geren fought to suppress a laugh. He thought she was so cute, standing there trying to justify the outfit.