Chapter Seven #3
Shaking my head, I unplugged my iMac, and sauntered towards the bathroom, so I could disinfect the chair then take a steamy hot shower.
Hopefully it would calm me down. My stomach growled when I eased into a negligee, so I sauntered into the kitchen to whip me up something quick—some Cajun chicken pasta with a side of garlic knots.
Getting on my level, I turned some music on, poured a glass of red wine and began to vibe.
Midway through vibing, my FaceTime chimed causing my music to pause and I glanced over at my phone.
I rolled my eyes seeing that it was Nya.
I hadn't heard from her ass in days, since the release party.
"Hoe, I should've put an Amber Alert out on yo ass, if it wasn't for your close friends," I giggled, putting my face in the camera.
She giggled too. "Girl fuck you. You seen what I been on."
Nodding my head, I scoped around her background and roamed my eyes over the gray accent wall. She was in her shop.
"Yeah, hopping dick!"
Nya cackled, as she sat the phone down and gave me a glance over her heart-shaped ass and wide hips for a second before she disappeared into the room. I could still hear her, so that meant she had her Beats earphones in her ear.
"You could be hoppin' dick too, if you weren't so damn stubborn," she snapped.
"I care too much about STDs and stuff!"
"And I don't," she shrieked.
Laughing, I walked back over to my counter so I could continue seasoning my chicken before adding it to the pan. I already added water and a dash of salt and a capful of oil to my noodles so they wouldn't take long to boil and so they wouldn't stick together.
"I didn't say that, but it sure as hell don't seem like it," I joked.
"Bitch, the first thing I ask when I meet a nigga is to see his MyChart, you know I never played Russian Roulette with my life like that!"
"I know I'm just messing with you. You still doing hair?"
"Nah, I just finished my last client. I'm just cleaning up my suite so I can get out of here. We need to book us a spa day or something," she mentioned.
"Yeah," I agreed, "It'd be fun."
"I been seeing people talk about this place for a while now. I need to check it out and reserve us something."
"I don't have anything planned," I retorted, as I placed my chicken in a pan. "I thought you was calling me to tell me about how your boo had you fucked up by now, unless you done switched a nigga out and ain't tell me."
"Nope, me and my boo still going steady! Don't be throwing shade either, bitch. Brother on my arm, no brother on your arm," she laughed, mocking the infamous line from the movie Hairshow.
"Girl fuck you, save me the headache."
"I take it you and Dose still haven't knocked boots yet."
"Bitch please, get the fuck off my phone! That reminds me to go cuss your ass out for giving him my address. I don't give a fuck how much he paid you. You'll never give a nigga that you ain't interested in your number!" I snapped.
"Oh my god, Sia! Who are you trying to fool? I can see right through you. I wouldn't have given it to him had I felt that you weren't feeling him. What is it? He ain't done nothing foul to you?"
I sighed, as the knife clinked against the marble countertop and stared at the blank wall in deep thought.
That was the question I was running away from because I couldn't seem to answer it.
Truth is, I didn't have a blatant reason besides his playboy actions that made him feel like women would fall at his feet and in a snap they'd do anything for him.
I wanted to be chased and exist in a different role that was new to him.
Truth is, Dose checked off all the categories in my book, and I had to make him settle that maybe, for an inkling that I was no match to him.
For once, I wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine.
"It's not that, Nya. Dose is the kind of nigga who's used to women falling for his bullshit.
I need that nigga to know that I'm not like them.
How many bitches do you know would've fell head over heels when he started calling me out on live?
That's a bold-ass move, especially if he has bitches he's fucking on already. I don't care about shit like that."
"That's what I'm trying to preach to you, Sia. You know how many hoes he had pressed? You know how many bitches went to your shit, lurked and dropped their jaw when they saw how fine as shit you are. That's the difference between them and you."
"Exactly! Yet he hasn't changed his moves and the way he approaches me." I said, as I flipped my chicken over then began to prepare my Alfredo sauce from scratch.
"Sia I don't know a handful of niggas who's willing to pay for an address, babe. That nigga ain't paying for no Kingsgate, Walker Homes or a Ten-Mile address. Girl, get a grip. That nigga want you bad!"
"I don't know," I shrugged.
"Give him a try and see where it goes."
"I'll have to think about it long and hard."
"It's really simple, Sia."
We talked shit a little while longer until I ended the call only for her to send me a message. I read it over and over knowing it was from Dose and she was relaying the message.
Be ready tomorrow at 6:30. Wear pink like I said. I'll send a black car to come get you. I done booked for you to get your hair, nails and toes done too. I know your people. Come dripped in fine shit, wearing that Jimmy Choo perfume that make my dick hard. I can't wait to see you, love.
My fingers touched my mouth trying to conceal the blush that was in the corner of my mouth, then it faded in the blink of an eye.