13. Mahasin
Mahasin
T he ride to Gage’s penthouse felt longer than it should have. Sitting in the passenger seat, I twisted my phone in my hand, wondering if popping up at this man’s home on a Thursday morning, talking about “Hey Gage, I’m pregnant and you my baby daddy,” was actually a good idea.
Hell, if I didn’t question sleeping with a man I hardly knew— unprotected, at that—then this ghetto-ass pop-up should be a breeze. But what if he told me to get the hell on? Ain’t like he had to work hard to get the pussy. He probably thinks I’m a whole hoe.
Well, Mahasin, I thought to myself, you play pussy, you get fucked.
Amber’s loud singing of Jazmine Sullivan’s Bust Your Windows yanked me out of my spiral.
?? "I must admit it helped a little bit... to think of how you’d feel when you saw it..." ??
She turned toward me mid-verse, singing obnoxiously and off-key, as usual. Somehow, she still managed to pull out a laugh I didn’t want to expose. Sighing and canceling my join request to this Facebook group called Successful Single Muva’s, I gave in and sang along with her crazy ass.
?? "I didn’t know that I had that much strength. But I’m glad you see what happens when..." ??
Amber clapped her hands in excitement, either because I joined in or because she was delighted, she managed to pull a smile out of me. “ Yasss , bestie! Sing that shit! Jaz gonna get the girls right every time.”
She hit the gas, accelerating with a little too much excitement.
“And if that nigga tries it and show his ass—oooh weeee.” She glanced over at me. “What did you say he drove again? When you followed him home and his virgin ass took you down?”
“Amber! My gosh. Am I ever going to live down the fact that a virgin had some of the best dick I ever had?” I paused, knowing she was waiting. “I ain’t telling your ass nothing else.”
I could feel her stare crawling over my skin.
“A Ferrari, bitch,” I finally huffed, rolling my eyes.
Amber’s whole face lit up like she’d won a prize. “Well, if he doesn’t talk to you nicely, that Ferrari gonna look like an Atari once me and my bat get through with it.”
I burst out laughing. “You’d do it too.”
“Absolutely. It’s been a while since a bitch got a mugshot.”
We pulled into the parking garage for Gage’s building.
It was even more stunning in the daytime.
The all-glass windows and doors sparkled against the morning sun.
Inside the lobby, the marble and gold interior blended perfectly with the antique mahogany wood furniture.
If bourbon, vanilla, and bitch-we-made-it was a scent, this high-rise would be wearing it as its signature fragrance.
We approached a doorwoman behind a sleek counter. Her name tag read Ashley Moore.
“Hello, Ashley. My name is Mahasin St. James. I need to see Mr. Gage Blaque. Could you call him and let him know I wish to speak with him? It’s an emergency,” I said, politely but firmly.
“What kind of emergency?” she asked, rolling her eyes like I’d just told her I was applying for a job I had no business getting.
“I beg your pardon?” I asked, blinking slowly.
“Oh lord, a slow one has found her way to the king’s palace,” she muttered.
“Look, honey, this building houses only millionaires, from doctors to baseball players and actors. I see women all day and all night come up in here all with the same motive: to get sponsored. Hell, even the old ones with saggy balls have some of the prettiest sugar babies on their payroll. But I can tell you right now—Mr. Blaque, although fine, rich, and successful, ain’t that type of man.
He’s classy, barely has company, and runs a tight ship.
You’d come off better attending that party that famous football player is throwing at Max’s and catching your lick there. ”
Her little ignorant ass just kept going.
“Why, you little—” I started, but Amber stepped in front of me and cut me off, pushing me gently to the side.
“Moore, is it? As in Ashley Moore, Pastor Moore down on 12th and Maddox’s granddaughter? The same Ashley Moore who’s had more kids sucked out of her than a nigga at a low-budget strip club?” Amber fired off, eyes sharp and voice sharper.
Ashley’s mouth dropped open so wide, I was tempted to toss one of the free mints on the desk into it.
“Now, I’m going to say this one time and one time only,” Amber continued, adjusting Ashley’s collar with a tight grip.
“Get your using-someone-else’s-Medicaid-card ass on the phone, call Mr. Blaque, and tell him Dr. Mahasin St. James needs to see him—and it’s non-negotiable.
And if you say one more out-of-pocket thing to my friend, I swear I’m going to your granddaddy’s church and publicly testify on your behalf…
after I beat your ass. You get me, bitch? ”
Ashley’s voice came out in a shaky whisper. “Um… yes. Please forgive me. I meant no harm.” She quickly picked up the phone to dial.
I turned to face the opposite direction, partly to mask my laughter, and partly to grab Amber by the arm and whisper, “ Bitch, that’s against HIPAA laws—you can’t be bringing up that girl's abortions! ”
Amber rolled her eyes. “Oh, calm down. She ain’t never been to our office. I got my info from the streets—it ain’t credible in a court of law no way.”
“Amber!” I hissed, still trying not to laugh.
Before I could dig into her messy ass further, Ashley interrupted our whisper-fest. “Um… Mr. Blaque doesn’t appear to be home now. Can I leave a message for him?”
“No, little bitch,” Amber snapped. “But do me a favor and stop talking recklessly to women you don’t know. This time, it only costs you your pride. Next time, it’s going to cost you your teeth. Feel me?”
“Let’s go, Rocky ,” I said, tugging Amber away and out of the building. Once we were outside, I let out a breath. “Well, we tried. If we leave now, I can send the OB on call home and see the rest of my patients.” I started walking toward the parking garage.
“Hold on, Miss Thang,” Amber said, stopping in her tracks. “What’s the info for the film studio he’s working at?”
“Oh, come on, Ambs. Let’s call it a day. I’m hungry and tired of being a damn detective,” I whined, stomping my feet for dramatic effect.
“ ‘Come on,’ my ass. Cumming on is what got your ass in this situation in the first place,” she clapped back, already unlocking her phone.
“You know what? I don’t need you to tell me a damn thing.
Google is a bitch’s best friend, and I know damn well this city doesn’t have more than one production studio. ”
A few quick taps later, she held up her phone proudly. “Boom. Blue Glass Productions. Only five miles away. Now get your ass in the car. We gon’ stop and get you some fries and a chicken sandwich and then go jack up your baby daddy.”
I didn’t rebut. I just got my ass in the car.
Blue Glass Productions resembled the Apple Store—but without the counters, instead featuring moving green walls and high-end equipment.
I’d never seen so many people multitasking in one space.
One girl looked like she was prepping wardrobe, ordering lunch, and valeting cars all at once.
I adjusted my sunglasses as Amber walked beside me.
We didn't blend in at all, and I just knew security would be on us in no time.
“Here comes trouble,” Amber whispered. A guard started toward us—you know that quick, high-pitched walk security gets when they’ve been sitting on their asses all day but finally get a little action?
That walk. I instinctively reached for the mace on my keychain.
I’d seen too many Piksta videos of guards rough-handling women, and if Top Flight of the World thought he was going to have a moment on my behalf, he had another thing coming.
Just as I took off my sunglasses and prepared to light his ass up like a Christmas tree, recognition lit up his face before my mace could.
“Dr. St. James?” he asked, looking genuinely starstruck.
“You sure, Gage, the only nigga we here for?” Amber muttered.
“Shut up, bitch,” I said, nudging her lightly.
“Yes, I’m Dr. St. James,” I responded cautiously.
“I know you don’t remember me—it’s been about five years—but you saved my wife’s life.
You weren’t her delivery doctor, but when the nurses ignored her complaints of chills and pain, I ran out into the hall and you were the first doctor I saw.
” His eyes filled as he started to tear up.
“When I begged you to check on her, you didn’t hesitate.
You rushed to help, and she ended up needing emergency surgery because she had—”
“Pre-eclampsia,” I cut in softly. He nodded.
“Yes, that’s it. I prayed the whole time during her procedure.”
“I remember,” I said. “I prayed, too.”
“Well, I never got to thank you. But look.” He pulled out his phone and showed me his lock screen: a picture of his wife and a beautiful little girl. “We named her Mahasin Semaj. Semaj is James spelled backward. My wife wanted to name her after the woman who saved her life.”
Tears welled in my eyes. “Oh wow. I’m honored.”
Amber, now misty-eyed herself, snatched a tissue off a passing makeup cart and handed it to me. “Here,” she sniffed.
“Take my card,” I said, pulling one from my bag. “Please have lunch with me and my staff one day, and bring the family. My treat.”
“We’d love to,” he said with a proud smile. “I don’t want to hold you up—but can I guide you somewhere specific?”
I was so caught up in the moment, I almost forgot why I was there. “Yes. Is Gage Blaque here?”
“He is,” the guard confirmed, “but does he know you’re coming? Mr. Blaque is a cool guy, but surprises throw him off. He likes routine and avoids disruptions.”
“How about this?” I said, smiling. “Just nod in the direction I might accidentally bump into him.”
With a chuckle, he placed guest passes around Amber’s and my necks. Before I could even say thank you, Amber was already skipping toward the area he’d pointed out.