3. Tahli #3
Every single time I did something illegal, I got the urge to throw up. Committing crimes didn’t give me an adrenaline rush like it did some criminals. In my opinion, that was a for sure sign that I didn’t need to be doing anything illegal, but I kept playing with fire.
“I might be able to come up with the money,” I told my mother. Standing, I didn’t wait for a response as I climbed the stairs.
I had to come up with a plan for my life because I didn’t want to be my mother’s age still making terrible ass choices. I wanted something better for myself, and it didn’t involve the inside of a prison cell either.
Five days later, I stood inside the bank using every ounce of restraint I had not to throw up while the teller ran the money, I had requested through the money counting machine.
Despite the fact that I was panicking on the inside, I appeared cool as a cucumber on the outside.
The last thing I wanted to do was appear nervous.
The check had come from an insurance company, so the amount of the check wasn’t anything too concerning.
It was also normal for people to get large lump sums of money and withdraw all of it.
Maybe I wanted to buy a car or put a cash down payment on a home.
It was really none of the bank’s business why I was taking out money that belonged to me.
During the hold, they were waiting to see if the insurance company would cancel the check or if it would bounce back for any reason.
It hadn’t. Unless they wanted me to come in and think I was getting the money, so the police could come arrest me.
A thin layer of sweat formed over my brow.
Attempting to keep my breathing even and steady, I promised myself to never put myself in this position again.
Finally, the teller stuffed the money in an envelope and walked over to me with a smile plastered on her face.
“Here you are, Ms. Jenkins. Since it is a large amount, I can walk you to one of our vacant offices, so you can count the money and verify it’s all there.
Once you leave the bank, we wouldn’t be able to do anything if you discover the count is off. ”
Fuck no, I wasn’t going in any vacant rooms. “I trust you,” I gave her a wide grin as she passed me the envelope. “Thank you so much. Have a nice day.”
I damn near broke my neck pivoting. My eyes darted all over the bank as I walked hurriedly to the exit.
I kept waiting for a police officer to step in and stop me.
Inside my car, I still couldn’t bring myself to relax.
I pulled out of the parking lot almost burning rubber.
Once I was away from the bank, I screamed.
I had actually gotten away with it. My heart finally returned to a regular rhythm as I breathed a sigh of relief.
I almost thanked God, but I was sure He didn’t play any part in getting me through my scam.
The very first thing I did was take Mack his money.
My next stop was the mall. Later in the evening, I was going on my second date with Khalif, and I wanted to be super cute.
The money I had just risked my freedom for was going toward paying off debt and a moving into my own place fund, but I didn’t think it would hurt to blow a thousand or two in the mall.
I had a few pairs of designer shoes and bags that I purchased when I was cracking cards.
The great thing about high end fashion was the classics were timeless and never went out of style.
For two and half hours, I tore the mall down.
I ended up getting quite a few outfits, a few bottles of perfume, and some new panties and bras.
As I was getting in the car, I got an email from a wig company asking me how much I would charge to promote a wig.
My followers grew by the day, so I changed my prices by the month.
My fee was cheaper when I had ten thousand followers versus fifteen thousand.
I was getting at least three wigs a week, and it was almost becoming overwhelming, but I wasn’t turning that money down.
If I had to change hairstyles every four to five days, that’s what it was.
For the wigs that I didn’t plan to wear for more than a week, I didn’t use glue.
I didn’t need my edges coming out because I was constantly changing my wigs.
When I got home, my mother wasn’t home which was rare.
Mack had come through and loaned me the money, so she was able to save the house.
In my opinion her taking out a loan on the house was stupid, especially when the money benefited a person that didn’t even live in the house.
But it was only right that I help with the mortgage if I was living there.
However, when I moved out that would be between her and Earl.
Since I was getting so many inquiries from wig companies, I was starting to put the money I earned from that into my savings.
Between my latest scam and the money, I was getting for promo, I could possibly move out before getting a full-time position at the bank.
I would have to see what my next few social media payouts would look like before I jumped out the window.
For our second date, I allowed Khalif to pick me up.
When I opened the door, his gaze poured over my frame as I stood there blushing.
I knew I was cute dressed in tight denim jeans, a red corset, and red satin heels that looked like ballerina shoes, but they had a six-inch stiletto heel and tied around the ankles.
I was still rocking my curly wig, but I had a blonde one that I needed to install the next day.
“Damn.” When Khalif’s eyes finally met mine, they were filled with appreciation. “You look. Wow.”
His compliment made my grin grow wider. “I’m glad you like.”
“I actually love it.”
I stepped out of the house and locked the door behind me.
My nerves were on ten because I knew if Khalif made a move, I would more than likely give in.
It had been over a year since I’d had sex and while abstaining wasn’t super hard when I didn’t like anyone, denying myself pleasure when there was a man I was feeling in my life wasn’t the easiest. So far, Khalif checked all the boxes.
He opened the car door for me, and I smiled as I eased past him and settled into the vehicle.
“How has it been going with your daughter being picked up from school on time?” I asked.
Khalif had explained his dilemma with his daughter’s mother and how he was going to be responsible for either getting her himself or arranging for someone else to get her.
A woman that couldn’t pick her daughter up from school on time when she didn’t even work was trifling in my opinion, but nobody asked me.
It damn sure wasn’t like my mother was Mary Poppins.
“It’s been going pretty good. When I’m working one of my parents or her other grandmother picks her up. Her mother texted me today and told me she would start picking her up on time, but I didn’t even respond. I really don’t have anything to say to her.”
For all I knew, Khalif was only showing me what he wanted me to see. No one was perfect, and I wasn’t sure yet what his flaws were, but I was wondering how his baby mama fumbled a man like him.
Khalif glanced over at me. “I don’t think I ever asked you. Have you ever dated a man with kids before?”
“Yeah, but it didn’t get deep. I went out on one date with a guy that had three kids.”
“One date?” Khalif chuckled, and I rolled my eyes.
“One date too many. It was a bust.”
“Do you think you could seriously date a man with kids?”
“I don’t see why not. As long as the baby mama has a little sense. I wasn’t a bad kid, but I’m far from a punk. Meaning I had a few fights between middle school and high school. In my mid-twenties, I’m not fighting, but I’m not tolerating disrespect either.”
“There’s not too much good I can say about Gina, but she doesn’t bother me.
Granted, I haven’t had a girlfriend since we broke up, but she doesn’t even know where I live.
We don’t get involved in one another’s personal lives.
As long as she doesn’t have my child around anyone that mistreats her, I don’t care what she does. ”
“Seriously dating?” I shifted in the seat to get a better look at him. “That’s where you see this going?”
Khalif was approaching a red light. When the car came to a complete stop, he looked over at me.
“I’d say so unless you feel differently.
I’ll be thirty before you know it. If I do have any more kids, I want it or them to be with the woman that I’m married to.
And I’m not trying to run the streets and play games until I’m forty.
So, I guess I’m dating with intention. Is that a lame thing to say? ”
His question made me giggle. “I don’t think a man dating with intention is lame.
Men these days are way too comfortable being hoes and swearing they’re emotionally unavailable.
I wish niggas would get therapy instead of normalizing being assholes to women and acting as if it’s normal to spend most of their lives being womanizers and spreading their seeds around.
As the daughter of a man with ten kids, I speak from experience. ”
“Ten kids is crazy,” Khalif chuckled.
“And not taking care of any of them is crazier.”
At the restaurant, Khalif pulled in front of the valet stand, and the attendant walked around to open his door.
Khalif told the attendant that he had my door, and he walked around the car to open it.
Khalif had a thing for grabbing my hand, and I wasn’t opposed to it.
He locked his fingers in mine, and we walked toward the entrance.
The restaurant was full, but we had reservations, so we didn’t have to wait.
The hostess led us through the dimly lit restaurant to a table near the back.