Naughty or Nice Read Online Free PDF Page A

of a nervous laugh. “You just said that.”
    Our hair let us know how long it had been since we’d seen each other. Last time I saw him his hair was in twisties and my hair was in a bob. Since then, I’ve cut it all damn near to the bone and it’s grown back, framed my face and hung down my back and over my shoulders, colored deep brown with golden tips. Back then his hair was longer, hip and bohemian, and now he was clean cut.
    I said, “I see a wedding ring.”
    He smiled.
    I asked, “Nicole?”
    â€œNah.” The spark in his eyes dwindled, then came back. “Somebody else.”
    â€œSomebody else?”
    Back then, his whole world was about this girl Nicole. Always Nick and Nicole.
    He got off the subject, asked me how my sisters were doing, yada, yada.
    I went back to what was on my mind. “So you and Nicole finally parted ways.”
    â€œWe did.”
    There was a moment of silence between us, a slice of quiet so small, yet it was louder than the clatter in this joint. In that silence I thought about that night he was having so many problems. The night he was coming unglued. His family was tripping, his preacher-man father didn’t like his work. Nicole was driving him insane. And he called me, needed to talk.
    We met for drinks.
    Conversation.
    Back to my place.
    More drinks.
    The fourth glass of Riesling kicked in and I jumped bold, told him to snap the fuck out of it, that confused, selfish bitch doesn’t care about you, then kissed him and risked rejection. Bold enough to kick off my shoes, slap my titty in his mouth, put my hands in his pants, and lead him into my bed. I straight up offered my body as a salve for his anguish. Or took his to salve my own.
    Penetration changed everything, especially amongst friends.
    Back then I had a boyfriend. A decent brother that I just couldn’t get into, not on the level that I wanted, especially when I wanted somebody else. And I knew Nick was hooked on Nicole. So, Nick probably saw me as . . . Never mind, I’m not even going to go there.
    And now he was wearing a wedding ring and I was surfing for prospects out on the Internet.
    He asked, “What happened to your book?”
    â€œWell, lots of rejections. Then I got into buying property. Had to help Livvy with her wedding. And Tommie . . .” I shrugged. That simple question about my book, especially coming from him, taunted me. “Did some traveling. Brazil. Amsterdam. Other places. Got sidetracked.”
    This brother in a black suit appeared down near the end of the bar. He smiled at me. I perked up and changed my body language, moved away from Nick, told him that I thought I saw my date. But when the black suit got closer, he tapped Nick on the shoulder. Both of them laughed then did that one-arm-man-hug thing that men do so people will know they’re friends, but won’t think they have sugar in their tanks, then they did a handshake, the kind that let you know they were fraternity brothers.
    Nick introduced me to his homie, a guy named André. Told me he was a comedian. In Hollywood, actors, comedians, and singers came a dime a dozen, half-priced on Wednesday. Everybody was working on a screenplay or a one-person show in between waiting tables.
    André said, “I was in the back chilling out at the bar. Lot of talent back there.”
    I said, “Oh, really?”
    Talent meant eye candy that was somewhere between an eight and a dime piece.
    André said, “And you working that dress like a Jamaican with ten jobs. I saw your fine ass walking around here giving brothers whiplash. You got a walk that could put Viagra out of bid’ness.”
    â€œOut of bid’ness?” I repeated, mocking him.
    â€œOut of motherfucking bid’ness. I was about to slide you my damn number, fo’ sheezy.”
    We all laughed. And just like that, I thought André was the coolest of the cool.
    Nick apologized.