Wives, Fiancées, and Side-Chicks of Hotlanta

by Shereé Whitfield

  “For drama. To bring the ratchet or hood out of you, I don’t know, something.” Norman threw his hands in the air and let them drop to his sides. “You said it yourself that you never hook up with just Paris, that Casey is always there.” Norman began looking around the room. “Well, where she at now? Where the hell Miss Casey Baby at now?” Norman went looking behind the couch for Casey. He then went and checked under the lamp on the end table. “Casey, where are you and your ladle at?”

  “Actually, she’s on her way here,” Sasha interrupted Norman’s shenanigans. “Or at least she should be here any minute.” Sasha looked down at her watch. “I called her when I left the restaurant, but she didn’t answer. She sent me a text that she was at some silent auction or something. I hit her back with a 911 followed by ‘Paris’s and my lunch didn’t go so well.’ She then texted me back and said she’d be right over after her event was over.”

  Sasha’s cell phone began to ring. She scooped it up from the end table and looked at it. “Speak of the devil.” She showed Norman her caller ID screen with Casey’s name and picture displaying.

  “And the devil appears,” Norman said, raising an eyebrow.

  Sasha sucked her teeth. “Hello,” she spoke into the phone as she put the call on speaker.

  “Girl, I’m on my way,” Casey said. “I stopped and got us some wine.”

  Norman snapped his neck. “Bitch know she had that shit on chill since last night, knowing some ish was ’bout to go down,” he whispered.

  Sasha put her index finger over her lips to shush Norman. “Okay, well, I’m here waiting on you.”

  “Okay, chick. I’ll be there in five.”

  Sasha ended the call. She leaned back on the couch and could feel Norman’s eyes burning a hole into her. “What?” Sasha said, shrugging her shoulders.

  “What?” Norman mocked Sasha, her gesture and all. “So you ’bout to just sit over here and have wine with a rat, huh? Well, don’t forget the cheese, a rat’s favorite delicacy.”

  “Norman, for real, you really need to stop,” Sasha said. “The least we can do is hear what Casey has to say about this.”

  “Un, un, you can sit here and listen to what Casey has to say.” Norman swooped up his purse. “I’m going to get my dick sucked, or suck a dick or something. This pond is just not big enough for me to swim around with you two fishes. And mark my words, Casey is a fish that if you keep around too long, she gon’ stink some stuff up real bad, and don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Drama queen,” Sasha said to Norman.

  “Yes, I am a drama queen, and I make it damn clear that I’m a drama queen,” Norman said. “And as much as it pains me to say this, I can appreciate Paris, too. Bitch is a snake and she lets you know she’s a snake, so if you get bit and injected with her venom, shame on you. But that Casey . . .” Norman shook his head. “I’m not so sure.”

  “Right, and because you’re not sure is why you shouldn’t judge her and jump to conclusions about her.”

  “Why you going so hard for that girl?” Norman asked.

  “I’d go hard for any of my friends.”

  Norman paused. “Friend, huh? If you say so.” He flung his purse onto his shoulder. “I guess there’s just one more thing I should warn you about the ATL.” Norman paused for drama.

  Feeding into it and curious as well, Sasha asked, “And what’s that?”

  “Be careful of that word ‘friend.’ It’s often used interchangeably with the word ‘enemy.’”

  Norman exited Sasha’s apartment, the brisk closing of the door leaving a chill behind. Or perhaps it was his words.

  “When you talked about her son, you hit below the belt,” Casey said. “Kids are off limits.” She picked up her glass of the red wine she’d brought over to Sasha’s place and took a sip.

  Casey had only repeated what Sasha already knew. It was like pouring salt into a wound. But it wasn’t Sasha’s wounds that needed to be tended to right now. Sasha had to figure out how Paris had gotten wounded in the first place. Apparently, Sasha’s little comment about not knowing Paris was somebody’s momma had stung her deep. But when Sasha had voiced her feelings, Paris had been well out of earshot. So how had the words grown legs and traveled to her ears?

  “I know what I said about Paris’s son and the whole making it rain comment was all wrong,” Sasha had no problem admitting. “But what I’m trying to wrap my mind around is how it even got to this point.” Sasha picked up her own glass and took a sip of wine as well. “Paris is under the impression that I’ve been running around Atlanta calling her a bad mother.”

  Casey set her glass down. “Well, you did make reference to the fact that you were clueless about the fact that Paris was even a parent. Like she’d been running rampant around Atlanta, when she should have been at a PTA meeting somewhere.”

  Sasha’s mouth dropped open. If Sasha wasn’t mistaken, Casey was sounding defensive of Paris, like she had a problem with something Sasha had said as well. But on top of that, the words Casey had just spoken had unequivocally not come out of Sasha’s mouth.

  “Wait a minute here.” Sasha held her hand up for Casey to pump her brakes. “All I spoke was my truth. I didn’t say anything outside of that. So I don’t know where you got all that extra stuff from.” Sure, Sasha had thought a whole lot of things about Paris having a child, but she hadn’t dared let those things fall from her mouth. “Funny thing is about all of this, though,” Sasha said, “is that the only person I even shared my thought with was you. So what I’d like to know is how it got carried back to Paris in the first place.”

  Casey shrugged and picked her glass back up. Sasha watched her sip her wine all nonchalantly.

  Casey cupped her wine in her hand. “Well, you know, all I said to Paris was that you said you didn’t peg her to be a mother.”

  Sasha snapped her neck back. “But that’s not what I said.”

  “Well, kinda-sorta you did,” Casey said in a singsong voice while tilting her head to the side.

  “There is no kinda-sorta,” Sasha snapped. “I said exactly what I said, which was that I had no idea that Paris had a child. That’s black and white, baby. If I say something, then take my words at face value. There is no reading between the lines. So what it sounds like to me is that you relayed to Paris what you chose to hear and not what I actually said.”

  Casey seemed a little taken aback. “Look, I did not come over here prepared to have to defend myself. After all, this is a dispute between you and Paris. I’m just trying to get you two back on track. How the hell did I end up in the middle of it?”

  “How did you end up in the middle of it?” Sasha repeated mockingly.

  “What? Are you trying to say that I was on some he-said, she-said stuff when I mentioned that to Paris?” Casey seemed hurt and confused by the fact that Sasha would think she was that kind of person. “I promise you, Sasha, that is not who I am.” Her eyes became moist. “You can ask anybody, I’ve never had to defend my character, and it really hurts me to think that I might have to now, because I really like you. I love having you as a friend.” Casey put her glass down and wiped the tear that escaped from her eye.

  “Oh, Casey.” Sasha put her wineglass down and scooted closer to Casey on the couch so that she could comfort her. First Sasha had cracked Paris over the head with her harsh words, and now she’d punctured Casey’s heart. Things were going from bad to worse. A tiny part of Sasha was starting to believe some of the folks in Ohio again; that she wasn’t going to make any friends . . . that she wasn’t even worthy of friends. That she should probably get her country ass out of the big city and haul it back home just as soon as her lease was up.

  Sasha couldn’t let that happen. She had to make it right, starting with Casey. “I know you wouldn’t do something like that on purpose.” Sasha put her arm around Casey. “But you have this funny way of communicating and saying things. And not just you. I’m learning that you Georgia peaches communicate on a whole other l
evel than what I’m used to. Some of the fresh stuff that comes out of y’all’s mouths would be fighting words back home, but you all don’t seem to be fazed by it. Ya let it roll right down y’all’s back. So maybe I should just learn to relax and not be fazed either,” Sasha surmised.

  “So are you trying to say that we throw shade at each other?” Casey asked, not the least bit comforted by Sasha’s words.

  “Well, yes,” Sasha said, not hesitating to share another one of her truths.

  “Wow!” Casey said, sounding even more hurt. “It’s nice to know you feel that way about me, when all along here I thought I was cool with you.” She guzzled down her wine and then refilled her glass with the bottle that was chilling in a Selene on the table.

  Sasha put her hands up in defense, closed her eyes, took a breather, and then opened them again. “Okay, look, maybe I’m saying things all wrong, but I don’t know how else to say them. All I did with both you and Paris was tell the truth.” Exasperated and frustrated, Sasha added, “Is that how it works in Atlanta? People get mad at the truth?” Sasha shook her head and then took another sip of wine.

  “I hear you,” Casey said, sniffing. “I guess you are just keeping it real, but at the end of the day, that’s what we are doing, too.”

  Sasha allowed Casey’s words to sink in for a moment. “Keeping it real.”

  That pricked at Sasha’s soul just a bit. She was never a fan of keeping it real if it involved hurting someone’s feelings, and clearly that’s exactly what she’d done, first to Paris and now to Casey. Was it possible that Sasha was changing and not even recognizing the change within herself?

  The fact that Casey had even gone back and told Paris anything was now the furthest thing down the totem pole as far as Sash was concerned. Sasha was now focused on her own behavior, words, and actions. Sasha was slowly but surely coming to the conclusion that maybe this wasn’t about Paris or Casey, but instead about her and who she was as a person. Perhaps they were right where they needed to fit, and Sasha was the square peg trying to fit into a circle.

  Sasha put her wineglass down, then removed Casey’s from her hand and sat it down, too. Casey shot Sasha a strange look for doing so.

  “Look,” Sasha turned to Casey and said, taking her by the hands. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for trying to flip this and put it on you. I said something, it got back to Paris, and she found it hurtful. If I hadn’t wanted it to get back to her, then I shouldn’t have said it, period, point blank. And even though I hadn’t intended for it to hurt Paris, it did. For that, I owe her an apology as well. When you hurt someone, whether you mean to or not, you apologize with no ifs before it or buts after it. So, I’m sorry. Thank you for coming over to sit with me to hear my side of things. That alone shows you are a friend. You could have easily jumped to Paris’s defense to go see about her, but you didn’t. You’re here, so in my mind that counts for something.”

  Casey nodded and smiled. “I accept your apology. Thank you for that. That really means a lot to me, because God knows good friends are hard to come by. And not only do I want you to be a good friend to me, but I truly do want to be a good friend to you, so if I’ve done anything—”

  Sasha cut her off. “Remember, no ifs before an apology.”

  Casey nodded her understanding. “Yes, you’re right.” She cleared her throat. “I apologize for anything I’ve ever said or done to you that hurt you, that you felt was shade or whatever. I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted,” Sasha said with a smile. The two friends hugged each other. “Whew, that was a lot,” Sasha said, pulling out of the hug and picking up her drink. “I have been doing a whole lot more drinking than ever since I’ve moved to Atlanta.”

  “It be like that sometimes,” Casey said, picking up her own glass. “This place is known to change a person.”

  That was exactly what was happening to Sasha. And since it went without saying, she didn’t say it . . . out loud. But Lord knows she was thinking it . . . and feeling it, too. Somehow, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Casey’s tears had been a move to get Sasha to feel sorry for her.

  Chapter 15

  “Pardon me,” Sasha said as she entered her apartment building. There were movers lugging in a bad-ass leather couch. The deep rich brown color was like a pool of chocolate. Sasha could smell the leather without even inhaling deeply. The “new” smell emanated from the furniture like incense. It wasn’t even up for debate whether this was real or faux leather. Sasha was surprised she couldn’t hear the cow still mooing. The men wore gloves so as not to get their fingerprints on the couch. There were pieces of cloth on the arms of the couch to protect it as well.

  Furniture like this belonged in a house with a two-car garage, not some Craigslist apartment complex. Fools, Sasha thought. Who else but a fool would waste their money going into debt on that kind of expensive furniture for this glorified college dorm?

  It was safe to say that Sasha was hating and full of envy. The honest side of her could envision that set in her own living room. She could imagine sitting there flipping through fashion magazines and being inspired. Only in her vision, the furniture was in her home in Buckhead somewhere. She exhaled. A girl could dream, couldn’t she? Perhaps someday her dream would come true. For now, she knew better than to purchase the best bottle of Champagne on the menu and drink it out of a beer mug, when beer is what she should have ordered in the first place. But due to her sixth sense for fashion and good taste, she made sure she always looked like fine wine.

  “No problem,” said the mover holding the front end of the couch. “You’re okay.” He looked to his coworker carrying the other end of the couch. “Yo, Karl, hold up and let the lady by.”

  When the men paused, Sasha squeezed by them through the doorway, and up the steps that led to her apartment. As she arrived at the top landing, she saw a third mover coming down the hall. He nodded a hello and then went to help his coworkers.

  “We got it. This is it,” Sasha heard one of the movers say.

  In the meantime, Sasha was really hating now. Not only had somebody in her building been able to afford such luxury furnishings, but they actually lived on her floor. Now not only would Sasha be able to smell the aroma of her neighbor’s dinner drifting through the hall, she’d be able to smell their living room suite, too!

  Sasha gave herself a quick pep talk and reminder to stay focused on her own life, not to covet what her neighbor has. Speaking of neighbors, just then Kels and her live-in boyfriend, whom Sasha had literally run into her first day in Atlanta, walked out of their apartment. Kels eyeballed Sasha while her boyfriend locked their apartment door behind them.

  Well, at least the furniture didn’t belong to Angela and Marcus, Sasha’s nickname for the couple, as they reminded her of the couple from Tyler Perry’s Why Did I Get Married. She could hear them arguing on the regular. Kels would probably cut Sasha if she thought for one second that Sasha was trying to covet both her man and her furniture. Sasha chuckled softly to herself at the thought.

  “Howdy, neighbors,” Sasha said in a kill-’em-with-kindness tone. Even though Kels looked at Sasha like she’d stolen something from her, namely her man, Sasha refused to reciprocate the attitude.

  “Umm, hmm,” Kels said, twisting up her lips and rolling her eyes.

  Kels’s boyfriend opened his mouth to speak. Kels snapped her neck toward him. She made him bleed, she’d cut him so deep with her eyes. Those daggers she’d shot at him were no joke. He was bleeding sweat. He quickly closed his mouth and balled his fist. Sasha could see in his eyes just how torn he was. He didn’t want to be rude. His mother had probably always taught him to speak to someone when spoken to. He lifted his hand, but then he looked over at his woman and more than likely thought better of it.

  This time Sasha had to chuckle out loud. Kels had her man in check.

  Kels stopped in her tracks. “Did I miss something? What’s so funny?” She looked from Sasha to her man, then back to Sasha again. “You
two got some kind of inside joke I need to be let in on or something?”

  Sasha stopped and stared at Kels for a minute. This girl could not be serious. But when Sasha saw her nose flaring, she knew it was safe to say she was beyond serious.

  “No inside jokes here,” Sasha said as she exhaled, hoping to put her feisty neighbor’s mind at ease. “Have a good evening, you two.” Sasha shook her head as she made her way to her own place, making a mental note that she would never allow a man to make her feel so unconfident and deranged. Because even though Kels might have thought she was a boss chick for having her man on a short leash, she looked more like an insecure, crazy chick.

  Sasha looked down at her key ring for her front door key. Once she had it between her index finger and thumb, she looked up. Once again Sasha stopped in her tracks, but this time it was out of fear. She noticed that her apartment door was wide open.

  “What the . . .” Her heart rate tripled. All sorts of crazy thoughts ran through her mind. Had someone broken into her apartment? Were they still there . . . waiting to rob, rape, and beat her? Had they taken everything she owned? She breathed in and then out. Maybe there was a problem with the water pipes; they’d burst and the maintenance man was in there fixing them. There was a plethora of things rushing through Sasha’s mind like crashing tidal waves.

  “Pardon us, ma’am.”

  “Ahhhhh!” Sasha jumped and grabbed her chest. She turned around to see the movers behind her, still carrying the couch.

  “I’m so sorry,” the mover carrying the front of the couch said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” Sasha said, catching her breath. She had a sudden thought. “Can you do me a favor and check out my apartment for me? I think someone might be in there.”

  “Sure,” the man said with concern. “Let us go set this down first and we’ll be right there.”

  “Thank you so much,” Sasha said, feeling much more at ease.

  “Uhhh, can you step to the side?” the mover asked her. “So we can, uhhh . . .” He nodded to the couch.