Made to Love Ya

1. Talia Rachè “Chè” Campbell

TALIA RACHè “CHè” CAMPBELL

FIVE MONTHS EARLIER

Fendi, Cartier, Versace, Tiffany & Co, Tom Ford, Saint Laurent—Those are just a few of the names emblazoned on the sleek, elegant chrome and glass buildings at Phipps Plaza located in the heart of Atlanta’s prestigious Buckhead.

Get ready to add to that impressive list the name Nafsi because it aligns itself with an image of luxury, elegance, and class just as the stores mentioned above do. But there’s a major difference. It’s not just a store but the restaurant equivalent of those stores.

Nafsi translated loosely as “soul” or “spirit” in Swahili, is the perfect name for the restaurant. Because it spoke to, fed, and nourished my soul. From the welcome of the greeters who made you feel like family to the attentive servers focused on every detail, to the elegant but homey ambiance and friendly patrons, my experience was exceptional.

The food was by far the showstopper. The beef in the Nyama Choma was succulent and hearty. It was paired with a side of fragrant rice with aromatic sauces and flavorful, tender kidney beans. From the beginning to the end, everything was outstanding.

It is pricier, but that is to be expected in that neighborhood. I promise you it is well worth every dollar spent. The food is prepared, cooked, and served with passion and is quickly becoming the crown jewel of Phipps Plaza. For me, it rates five silver chef spoons.

Chef’s Kiss,

T.

“Seriously. Is it good?”

“Girl, come on. Are you kidding me? Any time your ass lays something down in the kitchen, it’s good. You can burn, ma,” Roshanda replied.

“Thanks. I just want Ricky to like it,” I explained, spooning the mushroom sauce over the chicken.

Roshanda hopped on the counter.

“Just make sure you save me some,” she stated as the doorbell rang, and she jumped off the counter. “I got it.”

“Ro, wait. That might be him.”

“Okay, so? I got it, sis,” she replied, turning her lips down, widening her eyes, and stretching her hands out at her sides.

“Aren’t you going to put on a little something…”

“A little something like what?” Roshanda asked, standing on the threshold between the kitchen and the living room.

She wore the tiniest cotton shorts with her ass cheeks literally hanging out. Not just the cuff of her cheeks but the whole apple bottom.

“More.” I finished my statement, holding the spoon aloft.

“Girl, please. Ricky done seen my ass more times than you can count.”

“That’s the problem, Ro!” I hollered as I set the spoon on the platter, wiped my hands, and ran behind her.

“He’s like a brother to me. You ain’t got shit to worry about, sis. That man loves your dirty drawers,” she quipped as she pulled the front door open.

“Hey. Both of y’all greeting me? Makes a nigga feel special. What’s going on?” Ricky asked as he stepped inside the doorway.

“Just telling your girl that you and I are like brother and sister. Ain’t that right, Ricky?”

My boyfriend shrugged and said, “I mean, yeah. Might wanna go throw clothes on, though, Ro.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled.

She looked at me, stuck out her tongue, and rolled her eyes before she marched away.

“Hey, baby. How’re you feeling?” I asked Ricky as he pulled me in for a hug.

“Tired. Hungry. What you got to eat?” he asked as he cupped my ass.

I tipped up and kissed him, but I noticed he never closed his eyes. I sighed with exasperation when I turned around and noticed that he’d been staring at Roshanda’s ass cheeks as she headed into her bedroom.

“Do you have to do that?”

“What?”

“Stare at her ass like that. You know she only does that because she loves being the center of attention.”

“And I’m a man. It’s natural. I’m gonna look. I ain’t fucking her or nothing.”

“Yeah. Because she’s like a sister, right?” I replied and headed into the kitchen.

“Come on, ma. Chill with all that. I’m tired. I don’t want to fight tonight, thickness.”

Ricky always called me that when he was trying to butter me up.

“Wash your hands. And what do you want?” I asked him.

“What’chu mean what I want?”

“The only time you call me thickness is when you want something from me or you’re guilty of doing something that you had no business doing.”

“Listen, neither is true in this instance. But if you want a nigga to head home, then say that shit. I’m tired. Told you that. We gonna argue, or we gonna eat and fuck later?”

“We can eat,” I replied, smiling brightly at him.

“That’s what I’m talking ’bout. Fix a nigga a plate,” he stated, swatting my ass.

“Go wash your hands.”

“I’m going.” Ricky groaned as he left the kitchen.

I took a moment to grip the edges of the counter. I closed my eyes and breathed in and out several times to regain control. By the time Ricky returned with washed hands and Roshanda with a little more clothing but not much, I had a grip on my emotions.

We ate, drank, talked about everything under the sun, and laughed. It was a chill evening until later.

“Girl, I’m slumped,” Roshanda stated as she sprawled across the loveseat.

Ricky and I were seated on the couch. I had my feet pulled up on the couch with my head resting on his shoulder. He was relaxed against the couch and had one arm wrapped around me.

“Go to bed,” I replied.

“It’s too early to go to sleep, but I swear all that good food you cooked got me tired as hell.”

“Compliments to the chef,” Ricky muttered and kissed the side of my head.

“Yeah, but if the chef keeps cooking the way she does, she’s gonna have me as big as a house. Chè tryna make me a big girl like her ass,” Roshanda stated and laughed.

Ricky squeezed my thighs and remarked, “Yeah, baby. You gotta cook some healthier shit. You don’t slow down, your ass ain’t gonna be able to get out the house.”

I pulled back and mugged him, offended as hell by his words.

“Excuse me? If you have a problem with my weight, Ricky, then say that shit.”

“Ain’t no problems over here. I just be worried ’bout you sometimes. That’s all.”

“Worried about what?” I asked as Roshanda propped up on her elbow and turned sideways to stare at us.

I saw the smirk on her lips as if we were her entertainment. Roshanda was always starting shit and then being the first to dip out.

“Your health. You know…diabetes, heart issues, all that shit.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, Ricky. I’m on top of my health, and I do cook healthy shit all the time. So, miss me with that.”

“Yeah. You do, but you could cut back on your portions. I mean, you know, what you fix for yourself.”

“Well, excuse me, because I didn’t know that I stepped into a Jenny Craig or a Weight Watchers meeting tonight. I could have sworn that I was at 252 Abbott Trail, apartment E.”

“Man, chill with all that shit. People tryna care about you, and you over here tripping and shit.”

“Care about me? Is that what you call this?”

He sucked his teeth. “Call what, Chè?”

“The way that you and Ro are jumping on me and making slick comments about my weight.”

“Nobody jumped on you, Chè. Why you being all sensitive and shit?” Roshanda decided to speak up.

“You know what? Fuck this. I don’t need this shit,” I stated and stood.

“Girl, sit your ass down and quit tripping,” Ricky stated and grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me back onto his lap. “I’m just saying. It would be nice if I could pick your ass up sometimes or if my legs didn’t go numb when you sat on my lap.”

“Get your weight up, nigga,” I replied, and he shut up.

I fought the tears that stung my eyes because, yes, I was a curvy girl, but damn. Why did they have to be so cruel?

“Ro, turn those lights off over there so we can finish watching the movie.”

She hopped up to do as he asked, and I couldn’t help but notice that she put a little more twitch in her hips with those tight-ass, short shorts that she wore. A little longer than the previous ones, but you could still see the curve of her ass cheeks. The T-shirt that she wore was so thin you could almost see the brown coloring of her areolas.

She returned to the loveseat, plopped down again, and turned to watch TV. Through it all, I knew my man’s eyes were on her. I felt his shit brick up the moment she stood, and I knew it wasn’t because of me.

* * *

I rocked my shoulders side to side and sang to Latto’s “Sugar Honey Iced Tea” while I drove down the street. It had been a long day at the warehouse, and I was tired. Things had been going great with my blog. My readership was growing by leaps and bounds, and I had to put sponsor requests on a waiting list. Since I started it three years ago, I had over one million subscribers, and people relied on my opinion. I was truly an influencer in the food industry.

Roshanda had plans, and she told me she wouldn’t be home tonight. I was going to prepare a special meal for Ricky and me so that we could enjoy a nice, quiet evening at home. She usually spent most nights at the clubs and bars, but lately, she had been sticking closer to home. I was thankful that she wouldn’t be there tonight.

I wasn’t sure what was going on with her, but I wished she would find a man or find another life away from the apartment. Truthfully, I needed to move out, but I couldn't afford to do it on my own just yet. I still needed a roommate, and Ricky had been clear about not being ready to live together. We had only been together for a year and a half, and he felt that we would be ready by the two-year mark.

I came to a stop at the traffic light and looked around at my surroundings. There were several other cars around, but it was the headlights of a steel gray Tahoe that caught my attention. Ricky’s truck had headlights that reminded me of a pair of eyes.

“I know the fuck you lying,” I said as I noticed that it was him, and he had Roshanda in the car with him.

Why the hell was he giving that ho a ride anywhere? I was fuming mad and hit the buttons on my steering wheel to call and ask him that exact question when he leaned across the seat. She said something and giggled, and then he covered her mouth and kissed her. That bitch had the nerve to place her hand on the back of his head and pull him closer.

I could tell from the way they kissed that this wasn’t something out of the blue. No, their asses were too familiar and comfortable with that kiss to act like it was something that just happened.

I pressed the button on the steering wheel, and after I said, “Dial Ricky,” I waited. He pulled back from the kiss, glared at his phone, and then shook his head. Roshanda said something, and she looked as if she were upset as he held up a finger, telling her to wait.

“Yo. Wassup?” he asked as the light changed for those who were in the turning lane. I wasn’t, and neither was he.

“Where you at?”

“Uhm…over my boy’s house chilling. What’s up?”

“I thought you might want to come over tonight.”

“Nah, I ain’t gon’ even be able to do it. Yo, let me hit you up later, Chè,” he stated as we both drove into the intersection.

I rolled my window down, blew my horn, and turned to stare at him as we drove by one another.

“No. How ’bout you don’t hit me up at all anymore, you lying, no good muthafucka.” I ended the call and instantly made another one.

“Hey, baby girl. What’s up?”

“Tahj, you still in Atlanta?”

“Yeah. Wassup?”

“Come get me, and get some bail money ready in case I need it.”

“The fuck? I’m on my way. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Thanks,” I replied and ended the call. That was when I broke down crying.

I floored the gas pedal all the way home and broke every traffic law known to man. But it didn’t matter because Ricky was in the apartment a few minutes later.

“Chè! The fuck is wrong with you!” he shouted as he stormed into my bedroom behind me where I was throwing my clothes out of the closet.

I threw my hand out to stop his questions. “Don’t say a muthafuckin’ word to me, you cheating, lying, no good bastard!”

“Baby!”

“I’m a grown ass woman. That’s where you went wrong in the first place, thinking you was gon’ keep playing in my face, and I was gonna lie down and take that shit. You and that bitch can have each other. Ain’t no telling how long y’all been fucking behind my back!”

“Bitch? I got yo’ bitch, bitch! Hell yeah, I’ve been fucking him. Because you didn’t know how to take care of and appreciate a good man. Somebody had to do it! And I’ve been on that dick for the last four months!” Roshanda shouted.

I threw a sweater dress on my bed and walked in her direction. Ricky jumped in front of me and pushed her out of my room.

“Ro, shut the fuck up. Yo’ dumb ass ain’t helping shit!”

“I ain’t dumb, muthafucka. You weren’t calling me dumb when I was bouncing on your dick this morning or when you had your face buried in my pussy! That’s right, bitch… Every time you kissed that nigga, you was eating my pussy!”

I clocked Ricky upside the head so hard he staggered sideways.

“Yo! What the fuck?”

Next, I was on Roshanda’s ass like braces on teeth, like naps in the kitchen, like white on rice. I was tagging her ass.

Ricky finally managed to pull me off her, dragging my damn T-shirt up until my breasts spilled out of my bra. I elbowed his ass, and he released. I turned around and punched him in the nose before I ran into my room and grabbed my gun.

“Damn, Chè!” Ricky hollered. “You hit like a nigga.”

“I want that bitch outta my house!” she shouted through swollen lips that looked like Professor Klump.

“Say something else, and I’ma bust a cap in that ass. Try me,” I challenged as I returned to the living room.

“Talia RaChè Campbell.” I stopped in my tracks.

When I turned around, I saw my big brother standing in the doorway.

His arms opened, and I ran into them. He held me tight and rocked me side to side.

“The fuck y’all do to my little sister?” Tahj asked.

Everyone remained silent.

“Y’all got five muthafuckin seconds to start talking!” Another voice boomed from behind Tahj.

I opened my eyes and saw the source—my brother’s best friend and my first and only love: Izael “Zae” Ellis.