Single AF: Social Experiment Series

by Green, Sherelle

  I blinked. “Uh, thanks I think?”

  She nodded, still wiping away tears. “Look at you, all grown up and doin’ the damn thing. Got influential women talking through your television and shit. When this airs, I bet you folks will be making #ManiacMeeka shirts and I’m gonna be the first one in line.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Mom, please don’t make #ManiacMeeka a thing. I don’t want that type of publicity.”

  Ignoring me, she kept on talking. “You’re amazing, Meeka. Ever since you were a baby and used to take off your diaper and run around the house chasing the boys down the block that I used to babysit, I knew your boy-crazy ways would amount to something.”

  I dropped my forehead to my hand. This was getting worse by the second, and Tone, Z, Layla, and Kelani were laughing their asses off. “Mom, can you chill with the childhood memories?”

  She didn’t listen, and for the next five minutes, I let her have the floor because … well, she was my mom and without her there would be no me.

  Eventually, her boyfriend dragged her away from me and I was grateful for him. I loved my mama, but damn, she was so extra at times.

  The party ended a couple hours later and I went from being nervous about what was yet to come, to being extremely excited to enter this new chapter in my life.

  Once we were alone, I wiggled my eyebrows as Tone wrapped his arms around my waist. “Does that mean I’m your boss?”

  “No,” he laughed, shaking his head. “That means you’re my equal. But honestly, you were my equal, my everything, way before your promotion.” His eyes dropped to my lips before holding my gaze again. “I wanted to tell you weeks ago, but I was waiting for tonight. I love you, Timeka Catherine Simmons.”

  I smiled, my entire face aching from the joy I felt. “I love you, too, Anthony … uh, um, Michaels.”

  He frowned. “Why did you hesitate?”

  “Because I don’t remember your middle name,” I admitted, biting my lower lip.

  He laughed, his entire body shaking when he did. “Meeka, you didn’t forget. I never told you my middle name.”

  “Say what? Why wouldn’t you tell me your middle name?”

  “Because it’s a terrible middle name,” he claimed. “Z doesn’t even know it. Only my mom and sister do.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Do Mr. and Mrs. Hart know it?”

  “Well, yeah, but they’ve known me since I was a baby.”

  “And I’m the woman you love!” I yelled. “How can I continue to make up names for our future kids if you don’t tell me your full name? Who does that? I mean, how can I trust you if you don’t tell me your government name, middle and all. You know so much about me, yet you can’t man up and tell me what it—”

  “Okay,” he muttered, cutting me off. “I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to laugh.” I made the motion of zipping my lips and throwing away the key. “My mom had wanted to name me Anthony which isn’t a name that was passed down. So, she decided to also give me my dad’s first name and both the names of my grandfathers as my middle name, so my full government name is Anthony Cleofus Eugene Gunther Michaels.”

  My mouth slightly dropped. “That’s … really something else. I love it.”

  “You love it, huh?” He looked down at me in disbelief. “Then why the hell did your voice get so high just now?”

  “Because I promised you I wouldn’t laugh and that means my voice gets extra high.”

  He shook his head. “My dad’s name was Eugene. Cleofus and Gunther were my grandfathers. So yeah, my name is long as shit.”

  I snorted, still trying to hold back my laugh, when finally, it broke free and ricocheted off the walls.

  Tone smacked his lips and broke apart from me. “See, you ain’t right. I’m going to bed.”

  I followed him to my bedroom, still unable to control my laughter. “But I love you and all your names, Anthony Lil’ Tony Tone Cleofus Eugene Gunther Michaels!”

  “Damn, my whole name and my nicknames, huh? You really trying to make sure you don’t get none tonight.”

  “I already got some tonight,” I reminded him. “Don’t you see the humor in this?”

  He stopped walking and crossed his arms over his chest. “Nah. I don’t.”

  “Really? Maybe after you hear this.” Smiling slyly, I sang, “Little Tony pudding and pie. Name so long he wants to cry. When the teacher called his name. Cleofus held his head in shame. Eugene Gunther she called instead. But he couldn’t take it, so he fled. Yelling as he ran out of class. ‘My name is Anthony, but that’s Tone to your ass’.”

  Tone stared at me in surprise. “No you did not just turn this into one of your little ratchet rhymes.” He raised his hands in the air. “That’s it. My dick is on timeout for the rest of the week.”

  I still didn’t stop laughing, his stance only making me laugh more. He knew I wouldn’t stop anyway. My body had to work all of the humor out of the situation.

  By the end of the night, he was laughing along with me, telling me all about the time he demanded that his mom not use his full name when he got in trouble because the kids from the neighborhood would hear her yelling his name down the street. We talked for hours that night and Tone didn’t make it to work the next day.

  And for the record, he still gave me that D despite his empty threats.

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  The Contingency Bid

  April 2019

  There is nothing barbershop owner, Kadaris Kathan, wouldn’t do for his former foster mother turned babysitter, Mama Peaches. Even if that means participating in the upcoming Southlake Park bachelor auction to raise money for the neighborhood. However, Mama Peaches has one request … Kadaris must work with etiquette coach, Khloe Madison, to polish his thuggish exterior before the auction. Despite their chemistry, he hasn’t gotten along with Khloe in years and he’s ready to send her packing. Imagine his surprise when Khloe makes him an offer he can’t refuse.

  Khloe Madison has never passed up on a challenge and rough-around-the-edges Kadaris is her biggest challenge yet. He’s stubborn, arrogant, and unfortunately, too sexy for his own good. In order to get through this, she has a proposition for him. All she needs is ten days to turn Kadaris into the ideal bachelor and if he isn’t singing her praises after that, she’ll be at his beck and call the week after the auction. However, if this princess of the neighborhood wins, he’ll regret the day he ever called her prim and proper.

  Excerpt: The Contingency Bid

  KADARIS

  “Alright, fellas. I got that Black Panther for ya. Three for ten dollars, and if ya lucky, I’ll throw in a bag of peanuts wit’ it.”

  I shook my head. “Willie, what’d I tell you about soliciting in Kadaris Kuts? My barbershop ain’t a shopping mall.”

  “I’m not doin’ shit, man. You wanna hold a brotha down for tryin’ make a living?”

  Ares, one of my guys who’d only been coming to me for a couple months now, laughed and looked to Willie. “Man, that’s not a deal. Black Panther been out on DVD for a minute, and we can watch that shit for free on Netflix. I’ve already seen it ten times and I haven’t had to pay a dime.”

  “You had to pay when you went to the theater,” Eros, Ares’s older brother, stated.

  Ares shook his head. “Nah, bruh. I seen it three times in the theater. I either got in free each time or the female who asked me out paid for it.”

  Eros smacked his lips. “I mean really, do you hear yourself? Who makes the woman pay for a date?”

  “You didn’t see the women who took me,” he said. “One was about thirty years older than me and needed a distraction after her divorce. Plus, she
got paid bank from her ex. The other had so much Botox she couldn’t stop smiling. Had folks lookin’ at us like we were crazy, but she got a big mouth, so …”

  “We get it,” Eros deadpanned. “What about the third?”

  “Well, the third was fine as hell, so I pulled out my wallet to pay. Then out of nowhere, all these damn kids started poppin’ up asking me if I’m their new daddy. I looked at this chick like she had me confused with another nigga because I counted nine heads. Who the hell goes on a date and brings all nine of her kids? One of them looked young enough to still be on the titty.”

  The other men in the shop laughed like we always did when Ares told a story. Dude was funny as hell, and since we’d gotten cool over the past couple months, I knew his stories were legit. Him and his brothers had opened a tattoo shop not too far from Southlake Park, the south side Chicago neighborhood I lived in.

  “So, what’d you do when all those kids popped up?” I asked.

  “Shit, I did what any other nigga would do.”

  Eros squinted in confusion. “I thought you said she paid?”

  “No. I said I got in free in some cases, and other cases they paid. In this case, I made up some lame excuse and told her I needed to reschedule. Then, I snuck my ass through the back door one of the employees had left open.”

  Eros raised his hands in the air. “Why am I not surprised? So you left her and her kids in front of the theater to buy their own tickets.”

  “I knew that woman wasn’t paying for all her kids to see it, so nah, they never came in. Her oldest boy looked like he was seventeen or so, and he peeped me tryin’ to sneak through the back, so I snuck him in with me. Figured it was the least I could do for leaving his mama and siblings outside the theater.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh along with the rest of the guys because, like I said, this dude was a mess.

  Ares stood from my barber chair even though I wasn’t finished lining him up yet. “Point is, I saw Black Panther too much already.”

  Willie shook his head. “Not that version of Black Panther, fool.” He dug through his big, beige bag that had all types of stains and an old, crusty Obama for President sticker on the outside. “I got the version you can’t get in the movies.” Willie smacked his tongue over his teeth in a way had me questioning why I hadn’t kicked him out yet.

  “Check this shit out.” He passed around his DVDs that had two naked women on the cover. “That’s Nubian Crème and Brown Kitty. Guaranteed to keep you entertained for days. I’m telling you fellas. This Black Panther ain’t like nothing you seen before. Nubian Crème and Brown Kitty will get you right and keep you warm this month.”

  Ares laughed, as did the others in the barbershop. Since we’d just had a huge snowstorm the night before, today was slow for an average March morning at Kadaris Kuts.

  “Willie, I need you to get out my shop with that mess.”

  “Kadaris, man, come on. This is quality shit. Just let me pop it in the DVD player so you can see how Nubian Crème and Brown Kitty got their names.”

  “I think I can use my imagination for this one.” I showed Willie to the door, knowing he’d be back next week, same pitch, different DVD’s. Last week, it was a work out video. The week before it some rap album from a dude he claimed was local.

  Regardless of the fact that Willie was a pain in my ass, I’d never call the cops on him. He was Southlake Park’s own residential crackhead, or hype man, which is what I referred to him as. Willie was always down to help you push your product. And if no one was asking for his help, he was making shit up to earn a dollar like he was today. If I had to guess, he’d probably gotten Coconut and Martha to do a strip tease video. They were always hanging around the corners near the Dan Ryan Expressway waiting for a helpless soul to let them do a little deed for a few bucks.

  I’d lived on the Southside of Chicago all of my life. Grown up in Southlake Park. Gone to high school in Southlake Park. Opened my first barbershop in Southlake Park. The neighborhood wasn’t the best, but it had its good parts and rich history that made it my favorite place in the world. I’d never even thought of leaving the city, so if being a business owner in the neighborhood that raised me meant I’d have to deal with the Willie’s of the world every day, I was happy to do my part.

  I had just finished Ares up when my phone rang.

  “Yo, JB, what’s good?”

  “Kadaris, glad I caught you. Needed to warn you that my mom is headed to your shop.”

  “For what?” I asked with a laugh. “Last time I checked, Mama Peaches wasn’t tryin’ to get lined up. She swears by her curls.”

  “Yeah, you’ll wish that’s what she wanted when she gets there.”

  I frowned. Jeremy was one of my good friends, and everybody knew his mama because Mama Peaches was what we called the mother of the neighborhood. No one slid through without meeting Mama Peaches. But the last time I’d seen her had been a week ago for Senior Citizen Day when I offered discounted haircuts to senior Southlake Park residents.

  “You got me worried.”

  “You should be worried,” he told me. “You about to hate the stuff she asks you, and you know my mama. She won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Ah, nah. What can’t I say no to?”

  “Kadaris Malcolm Kathan, you hang up that phone right now.”

  Oh, shit. “Uh, hey, Mama Peaches.”

  “Don’t hey me. Is that my son? I told him not to call you.”

  “Tell her it ain’t me,” Jeremy said before he hung up on me. The shop got quiet, all of the men knowing better than to say something smart.

  “Can you chat?” she asked, pointing to the back of my shop where my office was.

  “Uh.” I glanced at Eros since I had to cut him next, but he lifted his hands like he didn’t want to touch the situation. “Yeah, I can.”

  We hadn’t even made it to my office before she started telling me the reason for her visit. “Son, you missed the town hall meeting yesterday, so you didn’t get the status of the reconstruction. Southlake Park needs more money if we’re going to rebuild the community. Do you recall the bachelor auction we’re doing?”

  I nodded my head. “Yes, ma’am, I remember.”

  “Good,” she said, when we reached my office. “Because we’re short a few bachelors and we need you to be in the auction.”

  I froze. “You’re kidding, right? Mama Peaches, you know I’m not the type of man to be auctioned off.”

  She walked past me and sat down. “Oh, sweetie, I know. You are the last person I wanted to ask to do this.”

  Damn. “Tell me how you really feel.”

  “Son, I’m not saying anything you don’t already know. You’d be great in the auction, but you’ve never liked the spotlight. Do you remember what happened when you were in that play in grammar school?”

  “How could I forget? I hated that day.”

  “You forgot your lines and spent your entire scene cursing to the audience.”

  I nodded my head. “I remember.”

  “Just disrespectful.” She got quiet, making me feel guilty for something that had happened when I was ten in that way only Mama Peaches could do. “Then in high school, you couldn’t wait to be on the basketball team, but when you got the ball during the last few seconds of the championship game, you froze. The high school ended up losing.”

  “How can I forget?”

  “Oh, and Shirley down the street told me that some folks from the news were recording business owners of Southlake last year, and when they got to you, you spent the whole time saying ‘uhhh’ looking shell-shocked. They had to move onto someone else.”

  I frowned. “I get the picture. And while I’d love to help you out, all of these are valid reasons for why I don’t need to be in the bachelor auction.”

  “We need you,” she pleaded, her eyes softer than they had been a few minutes ago. “Kadaris, we need to have more locals in the auction. Men who not only represent the old Southlake, but have be
en here through all of our trials and tribulations. Someone who represents the true heart of this city. That’s you, son. Always has been. And now, we need you more than ever.”

  I let out a long breath and scratched the back of my neck. This wasn’t the first time I’d been told I represent Southlake Park. In other words, I was the nigga who never left Chicago. Never traveled. Never even lived in a Chicago suburb or another part of the city.

  I’d been in Southlake my whole life, and Mama Peaches was like a mom to me. When folks came back home, they expected to see me here. My love for my community and love for a woman who helped raise me was the only reason I told her, “Okay, I’ll do the auction.”

  She clapped her hands. “That’s my boy. The auction is in twelve days, so we have a lot of work to do if you’re going to be ready to go on stage and be bid on.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean exactly? What type of work?”

  She was already out of her seat and dragging me back down the hall to the front of my shop. “Geraldine, chile, the boy said yes. He said yes, girl. You ready?”

  “I’m ready, Peaches. Bring his ass here.”

  What the hell? Geraldine was Mama Peaches’s best friend. We rarely saw one without the other. However, she was also Mama Peaches’s partner in crime, so hearing them shouting down the hallway to one another set my nerves on edge.

  “I don’t like this.”

  She looked back at me. “Hush now, chile. You already said yes, and I told you, we don’t have a lot of time.”

  The first thing I noticed when I got back to the front of my shop was that all of the guys were focused on something in the corner of the shop in a spot I couldn’t see from where I was standing.

  My guy Tone walked over and placed his hand on my shoulder. “I don’t envy you, bruh. You betta start saying your prayers now because whatever these ladies are up to, you ain’t gonna like it.”