Preseason Love by Ahyiana Angel

the whole scene was now feeling a little too dramatic for me to remain calm.
    â€œOkay,” I responded.
    â€œI want to see you and only you from now on,” Kari announced, with a look that was now as serious as a Catholic priest at confession. “We have only been casually dating up until now. But you are the only one that I think about, dream about, and crave. You are the only person I want to spend time with every day.”
    All that I could manage to utter was, “Wow.”
    â€œSo what do you think? Can it be me and you? You and I? Us?” Kari asked. “Can we agree to only kick it with each other?”
    I was happy with where the conversation was going. I liked Kari a lot, but I was also a little shocked at the timing.
    â€œOkay,” I said after a moment. “Me and you. I like it.”
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    Prior to my move from Los Angeles, I had been growing out my hair. Ivan would fawn over women with long hair so he begged me to let my hair grow. My grandmother always teased that I had hair like Pop Malveaux, dark and beautiful. I liked my natural soft curl pattern, and my hair was manageable so I didn’t mind the length. However, after everything that had transpired since my move to New York, I needed a change. I got a pair of scissors from the hall closet and I walked into my bathroom and started snipping. My hair had grown well past my shoulders, essentially to the middle of my back. So once I made the first cut, I had to commit. I started cutting more and more chunks, and big, brown curls fell all over my shoulders and covered the bathroom floor. Normally, a neat freak, I felt like fuck it, I’m doing me and I love it! It was freedom.
    Once I finished trimming a little more on the sides, I swept up all of the hair from the floor and hopped in the shower to finishwashing my troubles away, along with any stray hairs. I felt so light and free. I had never in life had hair that was less than seven inches long. It was a foreign feeling yet just what I needed. It was springtime and this was my way of spring cleaning and refreshing my spirit. I hoped that my new boyfriend would like my new Halle Berry-inspired look.

Chapter 9
Back in the Saddle
    I received an unexpected call to go back to work for one night. One of my PR friends from Los Angeles needed me to cover her client, Romero, at a Jay-Z and Diddy party. Naturally, I jumped at the chance.
    I arrived at the party early to check out the scene and tackle any unforeseen circumstances. Romero was a Brazilian model and pretty low-key. I was relieved that I would not have to deal with a crazy entourage. I called his assistant to make sure that they were en route and on schedule. As I figured, they were not. People think that the role of a publicist is expensive lifestyles and glamorous friends. No, that’s the role of the star or celebrity. One aspect of my job, especially when dealing with “talent,” was usually glorified babysitting.
    The red carpet was set to shut down in less than ten minutes. Romero’s tardiness had me on edge. The plan for having him attend the party was branding and building his profile as a man on the scene. He needed to be photographed partying at the right places with the right people.
    I introduced myself to the frumpy young lady in all black running the carpet. I asked if Jay-Z and Diddy had arrived. Sometimes it was like a crap shot with girls like her. I towered over herwith my four-inch, metallic heels asking questions on her red carpet. She could have easily thrown shade and not offered any assistance. Lucky for me, she was cool and dished that she was expecting the music moguls at any moment.
    Everyone knew that Jay-Z did not really do a lot of media, so I wasn’t expecting him to hang out on the carpet long. Best-case scenario, Romero would arrive around the same time as Jay and Diddy, which would make for the perfect photo opportunity. The photo would get