Sharp Curves Ahead

by Allison Hobbs

  Chapter 6

  Jayla was too emotionally drained to be furious with Chance and Tone for running their big mouths. The bartender’s accusation didn’t really matter. She wouldn’t recognize him or his dick if they ever had another encounter.

  Nowadays, she didn’t get involved with people she knew personally. She limited her hoe-ism to random dudes she met through dating apps. But after the disastrous encounter with disgusting Niles…

  Feeling herself getting worked up, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. There was no point in reliving that night, crying about it, and beating herself up over what happened. She had to learn from the mistake and move on.

  In the midst of getting ready for work, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. To her dismay, it was a collection agency calling at seven-thirty in the morning. It was shameful the way the representatives for the company had grown bolder and more demanding with every passing week. Jayla blocked the number, refusing to be bullied so early in the morning. Irritated, she postponed putting on makeup and stomped to the kitchen, where she stuck two fast-food sausage biscuits in the microwave. She’d bought four of them along with other items at the drive-thru late last night after Sadeeq had stood her up, yet again.

  While waiting for the food to heat, she sent Sadeeq a text, asking if he was going to be able to keep his promise and come through tonight.

  She had to do something about her weight, she thought, as she bit into the first greasy sandwich. Her clothes were getting too tight and she’d soon have to either shop for clothes in a larger size or make an earnest attempt to reduce her caloric intake.

  Depressed about her finances and her married-man situation, she removed the wrapping from the second sandwich and ate it so quickly, it was as if she’d inhaled it. After swallowing the last bite of doughy goodness, she closed her eyes blissfully. She yearned for a third sandwich, but she’d eaten the other two last night, along with fries and a double burger.

  Trying to fill an intangible void, she swung open the fridge and grabbed a withered-looking egg roll from earlier in the week. After nibbling on it and deriving no satisfaction, she tossed it in the trash.

  Starting tomorrow, she’d cut back on eating. She had to if she wanted to look hot at Bailee’s anniversary party. She had a month to slim down. If she didn’t, she’d end up having to wear a tent, and that would not be cute. Plus, she wanted to look as good as possible while showing off Sadeeq at such an elegant affair.

  Hopefully, Chance and Tone wouldn’t be there, giving her hungry looks. She’d have to give them both the finger if they had the audacity to try to lure her away from handsome Sadeeq.

  Besides, she didn’t get down like that anymore.

  * * *

  The one day of the week that Jayla was required to be in the office was long and exhausting. She lost a new and prestigious listing to a skinny, blond real estate agent named Isabelle. Isabelle wasn’t the least bit pretty with her long, horse face, but all the men at the agency acted as if her skinniness, pale skin, and hair color made her the second coming of Princess Di.

  Ordinarily, when Jayla felt she had been treated unfairly at work, she’d jump in her car and drive to a fast-food joint to get a quick, emotional boost. Unfortunately, the big boss, Griffin, called a last-minute meeting, which was scheduled to commence in fifteen minutes.

  Thwarted from dulling her pain with a food run, Jayla did the next best thing. She logged into her fake Instagram account and felt an adrenaline rush when she tapped on Radiance’s page, where she hoped to find indisputable signs that the bitch’s marriage was falling apart.

  Disappointment couldn’t begin to describe Jayla’s reaction to the most recent photos that she’d posted, photos that depicted marital bliss instead of strife. In one picture, Radiance and Sadeeq posed with Lux, who was grinning while holding up the new iPhone that Jayla had paid for.

  In another picture, Lux sat on a new bike that had celebratory white balloons tied to the handlebars. There was a photo of an elaborate birthday cake that was a replica of a pink Chanel bag. The child’s awful name, Luxurious, was spelled out in full and in sparkly letters on the edible cake platter.

  And if all that ghetto-style braggadocio behavior wasn’t enough to make Jayla’s blood boil, there was a recent family portrait posted on Radiance’s page that nearly pushed Jayla over the edge. In the picture, Sadeeq stood with an arm around Luxurious and the other arm around his wife, while the little boy, Nafeese, stood in front of his mother with a wide grin.

  Jayla glared at the family photo, noting that Sadeeq’s son had acquired his good looks while Lux was a smaller version of her unattractive mother.

  Fuming with anger, Jayla entered the meeting. She was usually the most vocal participant at the company meetings. It was normal for her to rage, snarl, and sulk about unfair company policies and the subpar listings that she was saddled with. Her colleagues had grown accustomed to her behaving like the stereotypical, angry black woman, but today they all exchanged puzzled looks when Jayla sat quietly without a word of complaint.

  Uncharacteristically quiet, she kept her head down as she sent Sadeeq a barrage of angry texts. She couldn’t tell him that she was upset after spying on his wife’s Instagram page, so she blamed her displeasure on his lack of remorse for standing her up last night.

  His only response was: At the barbershop. I’ll hit you back later.

  She wondered if another family emergency would prevent him from spending time with her. The idea of not seeing him sent her into a panic. She was weary of her empty existence and was anxious for her and Sadeeq to start building a life together.

  She could never reveal to Bailee how much she’d done for him. Bailee would think she was a fool, and who could blame her?

  Times like now when Sadeeq was treating her like a total piece of shit, it seemed apparent that he was using her, taking her to the cleaners for all she was worth.

  Shame on her for presenting Sadeeq as a single man who was devoted to her. She deserved to get busted for her lies. Maybe now she would gain some self-respect, cut her losses, and tell Sadeeq to do her a favor and lose her number.

  On the other hand, the constant worrisome thoughts of the enormous debt she had incurred brought her to the conclusion that she couldn’t end the relationship with Sadeeq until he paid her back all the money she was owed.

  But who was she kidding? She was hooked on the good dick, mesmerized by his gorgeous eyes, and blinded by his sculpted physique. She couldn’t walk away from that pretty muthafucka, even if she tried.

  Jayla barely listened to what was being said during the meeting. When Griffin mentioned that a delegation of Japanese engineers was arriving next week and looking for apartments to rent, she immediately began to tune him out. The commission in rental property wasn’t anything to get excited about.

  While her colleagues paid rapt attention and scribbled notes, Jayla’s fingers were busy sending Sadeeq more texts, which he ignored.

  She was deeply offended and thought about making up an excuse to get out of the meeting. She wanted so badly to pull up on the bastard while he was sitting in the barbershop. It would be all his fault if she went inside the barbershop and showed her natural ass, and it would teach him to stop playing with her all the damn time.

  Imagining herself as the kind of bitch who didn’t take any shit off a nigga felt good in her mind. But in reality, if she actually had the heart to roll up on Sadeeq, she’d probably say something weak like, Sorry to pop up on you, but I got worried when I didn’t hear from you.

  The boring meeting dragged on and on. The droning sound of Griffin’s voice was causing Jayla’s eyes to grow heavy, but she immediately became alert and sat up straighter when he announced that a new client was putting his million-dollar Jersey beach home up for sale.

  She was instantly deflated when, in the next breath, he said that the client had specifically asked that Isabelle handle the sale.

  If that’s the case, why the fuck did yo
u even bring it up? She blinked rapidly and then slumped in her seat and scowled down at her phone. She tapped an icon, deciding that a game of Angry Birds would match her mood. Putting all her energy into pulling back the slingshot on the screen with the pad of her finger, she concentrated on her aim, refusing to listen to anything else Griffin had to say.

  Playing the mildly violent action game didn’t take her mind off her troubles. If anything, wielding a digital slingshot heightened her annoyance. Made her feel more aggressive. Isabelle, with her upper-middle-class background and her huge network of well-to-do friends, always got the high-end properties. Even when rich clients didn’t request the skinny bitch, she was still given much better listings than Jayla.

  Griffin automatically assumed that Isabelle was more at ease dealing with wealthy clients than Jayla was.

  The token African American in the office, the majority of Jayla’s clientele were African American, buying and selling homes for well under two hundred thousand. Occasionally, she sold more expensive real estate, but it was rare. To keep up with her colleagues, she had to sell five or six houses to their one. Life was so fucking unfair!

  After the meeting, the male real estate agents concealed their envy and congratulated Isabelle. Their disingenuousness was enough to make Jayla want to puke. Refusing to play their game, she didn’t utter a word as she pushed past the group of phonies that huddled around Isabelle.

  Jayla’s cold silence informed them all that she was pissed off at being overlooked.

  Acting chivalrous, a tall, reedy agent named Tom drew Isabelle close, in case Jayla became unruly and elbowed Blondie.

  Glaring at her coworkers, Jayla yanked up her briefcase and stormed toward the exit sign.

  With the collar of her coat turned up, she cut across the company parking lot. When she reached her car, she pulled out her phone and stared glumly at the screen.

  No messages from Sadeeq. Nada! Not a damn word!

  Every aspect of her life was shitty: her money, her love life, her career, even her friendship with Bailee seemed tenuous. She deserved better than her crappy life and it was her responsibility to start treating herself like a queen.

  On a quest to feel better, she got in her car and steered the vehicle toward a small, grungy-looking takeout place that had excellent seafood. She didn’t have to ponder what she wanted; the spot had the best fried catfish she’d ever tasted.

  Merely imagining herself pouring hot sauce on top of the golden-brown-crusted fried fish made her feel warm and fuzzy.

  While driving, she called ahead and placed an order for three fish platters with sides of potato salad, collards, cornbread, and peach cobbler for dessert. She told herself she’d eat one platter when she got home and save the other two for later, to be shared with Sadeeq when he came over.

  If he didn’t show up, she’d end up devouring all three platters, and would hate herself in the morning when she awakened with a queasy stomach.

  The way she consumed food was a vicious cycle of misery. She ate when she was anxious, she ate when she was bored, she ate when she felt celebratory, she ate, ate, ate whether she was hungry or not. And she was helpless to control herself.

  A tiny baby, Jayla had weighed only three pounds at birth, and it became Lorraine, her mother’s life mission to fatten her up. Lorraine Carpenter doted on her baby girl, and even when the pediatrician warned her that her toddler daughter’s weight was not in a healthy range, she continued to overfeed Jayla.

  During her elementary years, she always carried a large, insulated lunch bag to school. The bag was so thoroughly stuffed with Jayla’s favorite foods that it bulged on all sides. It seemed perfectly normal for Jayla to unzip her bag and find a turkey and cheese hoagie, cut in halves, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, two cans of grape soda, a bag of cheese curls, a bag of barbecue chips, a pack of Tastykake Krimpets, two candy bars, and several packs of apple-flavored Now & Laters.

  Whenever she came home from school complaining that the kids had taunted her over her weight, fat-shaming her with names like: Blubber Butt, Crisco Kid, Roly-Poly, and Fat Mama Cheeseburger, Lorraine soothed Jayla, telling her that her classmates were envious of her beauty.

  She would cheer Jayla up with an extra helping of mac and cheese at dinnertime, followed by a double-serving of dessert.

  With her mother insisting she was beautiful the way she was and promising that one day in the future, so many boys would be chasing after her, she’d have to beat them off with a stick, Jayla tried her best to let the taunts roll off her back.

  But as she grew older, she discovered that Lorraine had not been truthful. Teenage boys were not fans of fat girls and Jayla had to give them extra favors if she wanted to get their attention. And to this day, she continued to go the extra mile for the men in her life.

  To this day, whenever she felt sorry for herself, she turned her thoughts to food and the anticipation of steaming French fries or a juicy cheesesteak would cause her heart to flutter with joy.

  Since birth she’d been taught that food equaled love, she didn’t know any other way to deal with life’s many disappointments other than to stuff her face.

  Although she planned to eventually switch to a healthier diet, until the day came that Sadeeq was secured in her clutches, she realized that her frazzled nerves would only get worse if she had nothing to look forward to except a diet of rabbit food.

  Jayla arrived at the seafood spot feeling like Sadeeq’s silence was justification to gorge herself. Inside the place, an assortment of enticing aromas enveloped her, and she added a dozen fried shrimp to her fried catfish order.

  Feeling somewhat content, she sat on a chair near the window and waited for her food.

  Chapter 7

  Snuggled together on the couch, Bailee and Trent watched The Blacklist. They were both TV addicts, one of many things they had in common. Riveted, they watched with their bodies pressed together, Bailee’s head resting on Trent’s shoulder. While the star of the show bantered humorously and remained inexplicably calm during an edge-of-your seat moment, Trent anxiously twirled one of Bailee’s locs around his finger. As the main character and his sidekick smoothly took out the bad guys in a hail of bullets, Trent released Bailee’s hair and his hand slid to the side of her neck, gently massaging until she was practically purring.

  A commercial filled the TV screen and when Trent’s hand fell away from her neck, Bailee whined, “Don’t stop,” in a childlike voice that usually persuaded him to indulge her whims.

  But this time he stubbornly folded his hands together. “I’ve been thinking,” he began, the three words hanging in the air, hot and heavy.

  Uh-oh. Bailee felt herself stiffen. After ten years of marriage and four years of being college sweethearts, Bailee had developed the remarkable ability to translate Trent’s tones. Sensing that he was about to bring up an unpleasant subject, she steeled for the discussion he was leading into.

  The discussion of their childlessness, a subject he’d recently started bringing up with increasing regularity.

  She turned and faced Trent. “What’s up?” she asked, chewing her bottom lip.

  “We’re not getting any younger, honey. It’s time to start working on a family,” he said in a tone that apologized for bringing up a touchy subject.

  As much as she loved Trent, she had to repress the urge to punch him. Why would he ruin their peaceful evening with this discussion?

  “We’ve been over this before,” she said with evident exasperation.

  “I know, but I can’t help it if I don’t want to end up being a fifty-year-old dad, trying to toss a football to my kid,” Trent said tersely.

  “It’s so unfair for you to put this on me. It not fair for you to make me out as the bad guy when we both agreed before getting married that having kids would cramp our lifestyle.”

  “We made that decision back in college, when we were still kids ourselves. At that age, how could we make a critical decision when we didn’t even know wha
t life was all about?”

  “I was very much aware of what I did and didn’t want. I assumed you were equally certain about your plans for the future.”

  He clasped her hand. “The future is now, Bailee. It’s not normal for two healthy people to choose to remain childless. Don’t you realize that society will view us as cold and selfish if we don’t have at least one child?”

  “Will society help us teach a black son why he might get shot by cops even if he follows their orders?” Bailee asked derisively. “Will society tell our black daughter that her dark skin and kinky hair are positive characteristics? Or will she get the message that she needs to adopt a more European look?”

  “We don’t have to rely on society to validate our children. As their parents we’ll be the ones to ensure they have high self-esteem and—”

  “But the images they’ll get from the media will destroy all our hard work,” Bailee said with a sigh. “Our daughter will want to be stick-thin with a disproportionate butt and wear a long, silky weave. Our son will be singled out by the cops, suffering the indignity of being stopped and frisked for merely walking the streets while black.” Bailee shook her head. “It’s irresponsible and reckless to bring black children into this messed-up world we live in.”

  “You’re making excuses. It’s absurd to refuse to reproduce due to social injustice.”

  “It makes good sense to me and there was a time when you and I were in agreement.” Bailee rose from the couch, indicating the discussion was over. Trent turned toward the TV and flicked the channel to a cable news station.

  After she’d exited the living room, Bailee expected Trent to trail behind her, saddened by their discussion but easily mollified with a blowjob. But when she came out of the shower and discovered he hadn’t come to bed yet, she worriedly nibbled on her lower lip.

  The TV had been turned off in the living room, but she could hear the CNN anchor’s voice emanating from the guest room.