Careful What You Click For

by Mary B. Morrison

  “I’m hot. Let’s get ice cream,” Shanita suggested. “What’s your favorite flavor?”

  “I’ll give you one guess.” Chancelor stopped. Faced Shanita. Slid his finger from the bridge to the tip of her nose.

  “Strawberry.” She gave a quick kiss on his lips. “That’s like black people’s red Kool-Aid.”

  “Nope. Guess again,” he said, hoping for a second kiss.

  “Butter pecan. All black people love butter pecan,” Shanita said.

  “No. That’s your ghetto-booty favorite,” he said. Walking beside her, Chancelor held Shanita’s hand. “I am the luckiest guy ever. I found a woman who isn’t my type and I like her.”

  “Well, I cannot say the same about you because I don’t have a type. I like what I like, and I don’t go out with guys that are liars and cheaters.” Shanita’s head moved side to side.

  Maybe he’d spoken too soon. “No more guessing. What kind of ice cream do you want?” Chancelor asked, looking at all of the flavors.

  “Surprise me,” Shanita said. “I’m in an adventurous mood.”

  She tickled him again, but this time he didn’t laugh. Everybody has a type. Why the fuck aren’t I her type?

  While he was deciding, Shanita snapped a few selfies, then took a few us-ies. “I’m going to put this on my page. We make a good-looking couple. And I’ma change my status from ‘single’ to ‘in a relationship.’ You do the same.”

  What in the world was this girl thinking? Chancelor couldn’t have his corporate people seeing him online getting ice cream with her. Her braids were nice. Nails were neat. He liked Shanita’s infectious personality. But he had to move on his relationship schedule. Not hers.

  Was Shanita so anxious to have him as her man that she claimed him before he claimed her? If it was Tracy or Elite, he’d be okay with that. But they’d never claim a man even if he gave them thousands of dollars.

  Shanita flashed her fingers in front of his face. “Fine, if you don’t want me to post your picture, I won’t. But I am going to change my status.”

  It was a battle not worth arguing over. She was grown and could do whatever she wanted with her status. Wait. Could I snag Elite as my girl? Nah. Forget her.

  Shanita focused on her phone. Chancelor stared at her to see how long it was going to take for her to put the phone back in her back pocket.

  A text registered from Elite: Want to hang out today? There’s an all-white invitation-only party happening in a few hours at this new spot. You can be my plus one.

  After how she disrespected him? ATL females had amnesia.

  No thanks, he replied, then added, I’m with my new girlfriend.

  Chancelor couldn’t lie; he didn’t know which one felt better: rejecting Elite or claiming Shanita. But that shit felt good.

  Let me know if you change your mind, Elite messaged.

  “Man, let me have two Cherry Garcias. One in a waffle bowl. And my baby’s in a chocolate-dipped cone.” Chancelor’s patience with Shanita’s obsession with social was wearing.

  Signing into his social page and going to hers, Chancelor noticed Shanita had changed her status, but she also identified him as the person she was in a relationship with. Whatever. Might as well let her have her way. He realized he was fighting a good cause. Where had his single status gotten him? Females always seemed to be more interested when a guy was booed-up. If things didn’t work out, Shanita had probably done him a favor.

  Chancelor logged in to the ChristianFornicators app to deactivate his account. “What kind of shit is this?” he asked, then showed Shanita her active profile.

  “Here you go, sir,” the guy said, handing him the waffle and the chocolate-dipped cone.

  “That looks delicious.” Shanita reached for the chocolate-dipped.

  “Nah, you ain’t getting none of this. Fuck it, let’s go.” Chancelor tossed both ice creams in the trash, handed the guy a twenty, then started walking away.

  Shanita followed him.

  “Why is your profile still active on ChristianFornicators? Answer the damn question, Shanita.”

  “If you know my profile is still there, that means your profile is still there. Why were you on the app?” She answered his question with one, too.

  “I’m not on it. You’re the one posting we’re in a relationship. I was getting ready to delete mine for you.” Women, he thought. Always trying to do the Jedi.

  “Well, when you stop checking, I’ll delete my profile,” Shanita lamented.

  Shaking his head, Chancelor conceded. “It’s cool. Keep your profile. See if the other men do for you what I’ve done.”

  “Stop acting like you own me. I don’t have as much as you, but I’m not your property, Chancelor.”

  This time he waved his hand. “You should’ve said that before I paid your car note, your rent, got your hair and your nails done, took you shopping, and put money in your pocket. You didn’t have an attitude then—what’s up with your attitude now?”

  “Like I said, you don’t own me.”

  Walking faster ahead of Shanita, he texted Elite, Still got that plus one?

  Shanita grabbed his arm. “I didn’t mean to speak to you like that. Let’s go back and get our ice cream. My treat. And we can sit under a tree and talk. I want this relationship between us to work.”

  Her crazy was irresistible.

  “Why are you always so uptight?” Shanita asked. “Soon as we start having a great time, you do something to spoil it. It’s almost as though you don’t believe that you deserve my love. But you are a lovable guy.”

  No woman had said that to him before. He wanted to believe what she was saying was true and stop finding a reason to catch and release.

  “Two Cherry Garcias,” Chancelor ordered.

  The guy said, “One waffle cup. One chocolate-dipped cone coming up. Or I can just keep the ice cream and you give me twenty dollars again. Are you really going to eat them this time?” Dude handed Chancelor two Cherry Garcias, then said, “On the house.”

  Sitting on the lawn under a tree, Shanita told him, “You know you’re my man, right?”

  Chancelor texted Elite, Cancel that plus one. Got my baby back.

  CHAPTER 60

  Jordan

  “Has the jury reached a decision?” Judge Goodwin asked.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” the foreman stated, then read, “ ‘We the jury find the defendant, Anne Whitehall, guilty of murder in the first degree.’ ”

  Donovan fell into Jordan’s arms and wept like a baby.

  Cries of “Yay!” and “Yes!” in the courtroom were deafening.

  Judge Goodwin shouted, “Order in the court!”

  People ran into the hallway. Exiting the courthouse with her client, Jordan knew justice was served. Microphones were shoved in their faces.

  Jordan advised Donovan, “Keep moving.”

  Reporters trailed them. “How do you feel about the judge’s decision?”

  “Are you satisfied with the outcome? Will there be a civil suit?”

  Anticipating journalists swarming her client, Jordan had prearranged for transportation. “Get in the car,” she told Donovan.

  “I hope you do as well or better with your civil suit.” She was relieved the hardest part was over, happy for Donovan and for the big win for her firm.

  “What are you going to do next?” Donovan asked her.

  “Take a much-needed vacation.” Jordan removed her shoes.

  Massaging her foot, Donovan said, “Let me take you. Anywhere in the world you’d like to go. I promise you won’t touch your purse from the minute you leave your home until the minute I get you back to your doorstep.”

  The offer was tempting. Oh, God. The massage feels divine.

  He pressed deep into the ball. “I owe you an apology for acting an ass. I lost my mind, for real. Forgive me.”

  “How about we start with a celebratory adult beverage?” Jordan said, then moaned, “Damn, that feels good.” As imperfect as Donovan was,
he was her familiar.

  “Your favorite place?” he asked.

  Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever again would she step foot into Bar Purgatory. The good memories outweighed the bad, but the bad ones were horrible. Jordan still couldn’t believe that Langston was an evil, complicated, and depressed man. But she was relieved that he was dead.

  “Come closer. Let me return the kindness and hold you.” Donovan leaned her onto his chest, wrapped his arms around her.

  Jordan desperately craved this kind of affection every day, but for now, this would have to do. “I’m never online dating or using a dating app again.”

  “Don’t say that.” Donovan kissed the back of her head. “Don’t forget, that’s how we met. Give me a second chance, Jordan, Ms. Jackson. And let me prove myself worthy of making you Mrs. Donovan Bradley. I think DJ would like that.”

  Jordan smiled. “I think DJ would like us together, too.”

  The worst day in America will be if all black women give up on

  all black men.

  Men don’t miss the love they have until she’s gone.

  Discussion Questions

  1. Do you believe people are born with an attraction to the same sex?

  2. Does molestation or sexual assault make a person promiscuous?

  3. How many of the characters do you feel suffer from mental illness? Who and why?

  4. What are the characters in search of when it comes to relationships?

  5. Who’s using whom? For what? Why?

  6. What are the dangers of lying to a spouse about lying and cheating?

  7. Which character is your favorite?

  8. What character/characters would you classify as a womanizer /womanizers?

  9. Do you believe Monet was justified in her affair?

  10. Can a person be in love with more than one person?

  11. What would you do if your mother knew your husband was gay/bisexual and didn’t tell you until your husband was missing?

  12. Georgia is the first state to develop a task force (of six) at the state level to prosecute traffickers. Why do you think it’s taken the state this long?

  13. Most people aren’t aware, but why do you think 1.5 million black men are missing in America? And why isn’t the conversation being had?

  14. Have you ever lived your life being what others expected of you? Why or why not?

  15. Are you okay with the term “she shack”? What would (or do) you call your home hideaway? Fantasize and create your space. What’s in it? Where is it located in your house?

  16. Have you met or do you know a man like Chancelor? Is Chancelor the type of guy women like?