Too Close for Comfort by La Jill Hunt

loafers, Travis Thorne strolled in and gave Yaya a fake smile. “Hey, Yaya. Nice spot.”
    â€œThanks.” Yaya gave him a dirty look. She was still pissed about his letting that hag drive her car.
    He walked over and stood in front of Taryn, staring at her cleavage as he normally did. “Two tons of fun, nice to see you again.”
    â€œAlways an asshole, huh, Travis.” Taryn folded her arms across her chest.
    â€œWhy it’s gotta be like that, Taryn? I thought we were better than that.”
    â€œYou thought wrong, Travis.” She brushed by him.
    â€œI swear, if I dated big girls, Taryn, you and I would probably be married by now. And I see you even got pretty Monya in on your little nail shop.” He grinned.
    Monya rolled her eyes at him.
    â€œYo, you ready to roll?”
    â€œGive me a sec, Trav,” Jason told him; “I’ll be right there.”
    â€œHe’s such a jerk. I can’t believe you really hang with him,” Yaya said after he left.
    â€œJust ignore him. Is there somewhere we can talk?”
    â€œSure. We can go back in my office.” She led him to the small office she was proud to call her own. It was just large enough to hold a desk for her computer and two chairs. “It’s not all that big, but it works for me.”
    â€œIt’s nice. Check out the picture—Is that a Cathy Parker?” He peered at the painting hanging on the wall.
    â€œYeah, it’s The French Connection .” Yaya was pleased he noticed the original painting by one of her favorite artists. The framed picture of a man and a woman about to French-kiss was erotic, yet tasteful.
    â€œNice touch.” He nodded.
    â€œI miss you.”
    â€œI miss you too.” He reached out and took her hand. “I’m so proud of you.”
    â€œI couldn’t have done any of this without you, Jason. You were the one who told me to make my plan and work my plan, remember?” She stepped closer to him.
    â€œBut you were the one who did it, and very well, I might add.” He touched her cheek. “Pretty Girl.”
    She closed her eyes and savored the moment. Pretty Girl was the name he had given her when they first met. He said she looked like an innocent Janet Jackson, during her years on Fame when Janet was a pretty girl and not a nasty girl. She even had Janet’s body; he always told her she was his fantasy woman.
    â€œJason—”
    His cell phone ringing interrupted her. He took it out of his pocket, “A’ight, man, I’m coming out now.” He closed it and told her, “I gotta run, but I will see you tomorrow at the reception. And tomorrow night, we’ll have a celebration of our own, a’ight?”
    â€œA’ight.”
    He put his hand under her chin and tilted her head up.
    She closed her eyes, as his lips met hers and kissed her softly.
    â€œBye, Pretty Girl,” he said and walked out.
    Finally, things were looking better. Jason had come to his senses, and things were back to normal. She couldn’t wait until tomorrow night. Having him come and tell her how proud he was of her validated Yaya’s feeling of accomplishment. She knew that opening the salon was a risk, but having his vote of approval gave her just the vote of confidence she needed. She floated out of her office and back into the salon.
    â€œI take it the break is over?” Taryn asked.
    â€œBreak is over.” She smiled.
    â€œThank God . . . because I couldn’t take another day of your moping.” Taryn walked over and gave her a hug.
    â€œOkay. Break open a bottle of champagne. Forget waiting ’til tomorrow!” Yaya declared.
    â€œNow that’s what I’m talking ’bout.” Monya ran to the back and returned with a bottle and three plastic glasses.
    â€œWhere is the music? We ’bout to get this party started now !”
    The boom box was now replaced by an iPod, which they docked on