4. Ashari
Run Ashari, run… The nerdy Hulk is closing in on you after leaving the cat lady. Move your feet before you need a flea dip like his ass.
My thoughts are swirling, as my feet feel like weights are anchoring them to the sidewalk. A shiver runs down my spine at the man's intense gaze approaching me. I can appreciate this unknown specimen's smooth, dark skin in the light of daybreak. Unlike our first encounter, he isn’t wearing his glasses, much to my displeasure. It’s crazy because I have never found a glasses-wearing man attractive.
Attractive… girl, bye. This sophisticated nerdy motherfucker would have Tony the Tiger giving two thumbs up with his signature Kool-Aid smile.
The man approaching me has to be over six feet tall with a muscular upper torso and biceps fighting for dominance in his shirt. His beard and plump bottom lip have a vision entering my mind of my nectar moisturizing both as his tongue attempts to catch every ounce. The diamond in his right earlobe is glistening against the sun’s rays. My eyes land on the bulge within the black joggers, which is deliciously covering his lower half. A motion on his thigh has me swallowing while taking an unconscious step backward.
Ooh, no, Pusetta… this nerdy mothafucker could have us out here like Wanda walking that ten-speed.
“He has another round in him if you want to show me which one of these spots is yours.” The deep, silky, and masculine timbre penetrates my ears, causing Pusetta to instantly moisten with her traitorous ass.
Had I known that moving to this complex would result in running into this man, I might have reconsidered and searched for another place of residence. I have only been living here for a couple weeks. Yet, my newly signed lease makes it impossible for me to avoid interactions with the nerdy motherfucker standing before me smiling like he’s said something worth me fawning over.
“Is that the weak ass line you told cat lady to have you leaving her house like one of the fleas with a day pass?”
“Damn. You’re hell,” he says as a low chuckle leaves his mouth, causing his entire face to brighten and my chest to tighten with a tingle of something I can’t identify.
Oh, hell no. Stop that shit, Ashari Weeks. Pusetta already showing her ass. We don’t want you to join her down the trap gate.
“Can you at least tell me what to call you before you start answering to Mine?”
“Oh, baby, you’re still here,” the syrupy sweet voice of the cat lady says, causing me to shake my head as the man in front of me loses his smile instantly.
“That is why my name isn’t something you’ll find out. Trust me, playboy dummy, if I was interested in routine flea dips, I would adopt a set of Siamese kittens of my own. Keep playing in that litter box because your dick could never handle this waterfall.” With that, I give a finger wave and head to my car, kicking myself for the lapse of judgment I had in entertaining the brief conversation.
“Damn. Why did you bring your ass out here, Honesty?” I hear, which causes me to giggle because of the aggressive tone of the man’s question.
When I reach my car and get in, I pause to watch my neighbor attempt to hug the man as he backs away from her with a grimace. The look of defeat on her face has me shaking my head, and a tinge fills my chest from being more invested in a man than he was to me. My ex, Marquan, had me thinking my pussy dripped in gold until three women approached me at my place to let me know about my man. Marquan’s dick roamed more than a cell phone in international waters, and my stupid ass thought the love he lied about having had been real.
Yet, you continue to hit the nigga up for cuddle and back rub sessions.
My conscience echoes the statement as I frown at the reality that Marquan still has an in because being single makes me vulnerable. The nigga also has magical hands that can rub the knots from my body like a trained professional. I can’t explain my need to call him for cuddle sessions, but his ass shows up every time to do my bidding. However, I think that’s because Marquan wants me to take him back and believes every rub and stroke of his leg on mine will grant him access to my heart again.
Talking about that man with fleas like Marquan isn’t hitting the twenty-four-hour clinic for routine injections. Humph, your dumb ass ain’t no better than the cat lady.
“Fuck you.” I grumble inside the quiet interior, pulling my eyes away from the couple to start my car and leave the spot as my mood tanks.
Being single is lonely as hell, and despite knowing Marquan ain’t shit, I still entertain him simply because I have been too afraid to search for someone to fill in the gaps of a man’s presence. I’m not a woman who has to have a man to be happy, but damn it, I’m a woman who loves to be held in a tight manly embrace with a broad shoulder to lean my head on. Desperate for a change in my thoughts, I pull up Pandora and immediately start singing with the song that begins playing.
“Whatever You do for me. However, things turn out to be. As long as He’s in control. I know things will work out for me.” I sing loudly as I turn out of my townhouse community onto the main street heading toward the freeway.
It’s crazy that I cuss like a sailor trapped on a ship for months but listen to mostly gospel music. Mycah calls me a musical hypocrite, while Jordan thinks it's funny. No matter the situation, I crank whatever gospel song playing in my car like I’m at a rap concert. It’s another influence from Papa Ren I’ve been unable to shake, but I don’t mind as much as I let on in his presence.
“As long as You’re in control. I know things will work out for me,” I sing as the song ends, bringing a smile from the light atmosphere surrounding me.
Thirty minutes later…
“Shari and Mari, my favorite god babies,” Papa Ren says, walking up to the table where Amari and I are sitting.
“Unless you have some hidden bastards in your closet, we’re your only god babies, Papa Renny,” Amari says, smirking.
“Language, Amari Weeks,” Papa Ren says while kissing her cheek before moving to me and doing the same, then sitting in the empty seat next to me.
One thing that I love about Lorenzo Reese is that no matter what he has going on with his church or personal life, he has never neglected to spend time with Amari and me. We have a monthly date for the three of us to get together that’s either lunch, brunch, or dinner, depending on his schedule. With the date being every second Saturday of the month, Amari and I are always willing to accommodate Papa Ren with whatever his schedule allows.
“Sorry, Papa Renny, but do you have other godchildren we’re unaware of?” Amari asks with her brows hiking.
“No. God knew you two would be the handfuls I needed to keep me busy, entertained, and loved,” he says, winking.
“Good, because I’ll fight about you,” Amari says.
“No need. Has a waiter come by yet?” he asks.
“Yes. I ordered your apple juice with light ice,” I say, entering the conversation for the first time, causing Papa Ren to set his gaze on me.
Something flashes in his eyes that I can’t read. He stares at me intently, causing me to shift in my seat, and my palms instantly begin perspiring.
Damn. What did I do?
“I’ve been in a mean battle concerning you the last two weeks, Shari,” Papa Ren says after several minutes, causing me to swallow.
I sit motionless while watching Papa Ren as the waiter returns to our table with our drink orders. Amari and I both got strawberry mimosas, and my glass doesn’t touch the table a full second before I snatch it up and take a healthy gulp as my taste buds war with my desperation to quiet the mounting flipping of my stomach. For the most part, the dates with Papa Ren are seamless and bonding experiences, but every now and then, this happens. Papa Ren and his need to share whatever God tells him with Amari and me takes precedence. My nerves are spiraling as Amari begins ordering her meal before the waiter turns to me.
“What can I get for you?” the waiter asks while giving me a lust-filled expression that I’m too overloaded to respond to.
“Chicken and waffles with a side of cheese grits, please,” I say, setting my glass on the table with half of the contents now gone.
Nodding, the waiter moves on to Papa Ren, who smiles politely, causing the tension in my back to ease slightly.
“I’ll also take the chicken and waffles. Can you also bring her a refill of whatever she’s drinking?” Papa Ren says, nodding in my direction.
“Sure thing. I’ll get these orders in, but let me know if you need anything else.” With that, he walks away, granting Papa Ren the floor again.
“Out of curiosity, did you watch the replay of last week’s sermon?” Papa Ren asks me.
“I did, and it was the bomb. You did your big one with that message,” Amari says before I have a chance to reply.
Wordlessly, I nod because, between the lump in my throat and my nerves, I’m unable to formulate words at this moment.
“Good. I thought it was an ordinary message God wanted me to deliver to his people, but that night, you caused me to tussle with the Savior on your behalf. I felt like Jacob because it took me until daybreak to prevail.”
My mind spins with the scripture reference Papa Ren is talking about, because it sounds familiar, yet I’m unable to place the exact passage.
What about my life is causing Papa Ren and God to disagree or come to such extremes?
“While Jacob had been forced to confront his shortcomings and dependence on God, it's not what’s about to happen with you. I didn’t understand why I wrestled with God from Sunday until the break of Monday morning until looking at you just now,” Papa Ren continues.
Heat fills my neck as my right leg bounces under the table, and I rub my hands up and down my pants. My chest tightens as my insides quiver. My eyes continue peering into Papa Ren’s orbs, and I'm unsure where he’s going with this information.
“The man you’ve recently had engagement with will give you the opportunity to release the hard edge you use as an armor over your heart. God said to tell you that though the package is bruised, scuffed up, and frayed in certain areas, it’s the one He made with you in mind. He also told me to tell you that with this one, you can let your guard down because the dawn of a new day comes after midnight. God said you will no longer have to settle for drive-by fulfillment because what’s coming has been tailored to meet all of your desires, needs, and security. You no longer have to wrestle with Him because the blessing has already been won on your behalf.” Papa Ren’s voice is commanding and unmistakably authoritative as his eyes peer into the depths of my soul, leaving me shaken.
“Wow. Let me get my life right before God asks you to wreck me next month,” Amari says, causing Papa Ren to laugh as I attempt to recover from sensory overload.
“You ain’t gotta wait until next month. Sunday is just under twenty-four hours, and the altar is always open and available to you, Mari,” Papa Ren says, smiling.
“What? You just sat here and told Ashari what God said in a restaurant full of people without blinking. Do you want me to come to church tomorrow? Nah. I ain’t about to let your praise team wreck me before you preach me into walking down the center aisle so you and God can challenge me into accepting Him into my life. Nope. I’ll take my chances next month, Papa Renny. I ain’t about to mess with you or Him,” Amari says, shaking her head, causing me to laugh hysterically as my anxiety leaves my body.
I’m not sure which is funnier: Amari’s neck vein beating a visible pulse beneath her skin, her rapid blinking, or the shrill within her voice during her rebuttal. After Papa Ren’s sermon-like spiel with me minutes ago, I can’t blame Amari for her accurate and truthful reaction. I’ve seen people go up for prayer at the altar of Pursuing His Glory Ministries and they either cry uncontrollably or fall out like drunks after a binger.
“You don’t have to fear God, Mari. Trust me. When He’s ready to get your attention, there won’t be a hiding spot capable of keeping Him from reaching you,” Papa Ren says as the waiter returns with our food.
Tell me about it. I was only coming to eat, laugh, and catch up with you, Papa Ren. Now I’m sitting here with my stomach in knots, contemplating your words.
“Let’s pray before we dive into this food,” Papa Ren says, stretching his hands out so Amari and I can join hands with him.
My heart is still thumping like I just finished a five-mile marathon without slowing down to catch my breath or sip a drink of water. My shaky hands connect with Papa Ren and Amari, who squeezed the hand she’s holding as Papa Ren begins praying.
“Father, in the matchless name of Jesus. Thank You for the opportunity to spend time with my girls. Thank You for their lives, oh God. Thank You for Your safety, and thank You for their health and stable minds. God, I ask that You would continue to protect and keep them. Let them know that their safety and security are in You. Now, God, I ask that You would visit both Amari and Ashari in the midnight to let them know that there’s nothing too hard for You. Let them know, God, that whatever battles or storms they face, You are well able to fight on their behalf. Bless this food so that we might find nourishment for our bodies. Bless the hands that prepared it. All these things we do ask in Your name. Amen.”
Now, why did he have to ask God to show up at midnight, knowing I only want to greet the back of my eyelids at that hour? Papa Ren and I are gonna have to discuss his need to put me on God’s radar.
“I have a question,” Amari says, snapping me out of my thoughts as we disconnect our hands before I search my purse for hand sanitizer.
“Go ahead,” Papa Ren urges.
“I’m not trying to be ungrateful, but doesn’t God have more pressing people to deal with than me?”
Laughter shoots from my belly because Amari doesn’t have a lick of sense, which is why she should be sitting her tail in one of the pews tomorrow morning.