thicker jacket instead of these Adidas and this thin ass sweater.
“Thank you,” I tell the guy who’s holding the door for me.
“No problem beautiful lady,” he responds with a gold-toothed smile.
He continues to hold the door as I make my way past him and through the threshold, not even bothering to cover the fact that he’s staring at my ass. I sigh and roll my eyes when I see that he still has that goofy ass grin on his face, because I already know that he’s about to get on my damn nerves. I make an about face and I put my weight on the door while I shake my umbrella, and release the latch to pull it down.
“I got it,” I tell him, wondering why he’s still standing in my face with that same goofball ass grin.
“Take ya time baby girl, take ya time,” he tells me, licking his large lips with his head cocked to the side.
The move lets me know that he thinks he’s sexy, and I’m hoping like hell that he doesn’t try to play his hand, because I really don’t want to be bothered right now. I don’t say anything in response, because I know that if I do, he’ll take that as an invite to keep the conversation going. He’s a cutie, but he’s not my type. I’ve never been a fan of gold toothed, pants sagging, dread headed, unlaced Timberland wearing boys who thought they were grown, and that’s exactly what he his. He looks like he was in his early twenties and after dealing with Terry at the age of twenty-three, I’ve already vowed to never mess with another guy that young. Just thinking of me turning thirty in two years, having a twenty-five year old boyfriend is embarrassing enough.
Once my umbrella is finally down, I give the guy a weak smile and turn to walk away. I only make it a few steps when I hear him clear his throat.
“Yes?” My head whips around and there’s a clear amount of annoyance dripping from my voice. “What can I help you with?”
“Where yo’ man at?” he asks, stepping back into the building.
“At home,” I tell him flatly.
“Baby girl, you don’t need a man who’s at home,” he licks his lips again. “Nah, you need somebody who’s at work right now making money for your pretty chocolate ass to spend.”
“First off, my chocolate ass can make my own money.” I’m now completely turned around, and taking a step back into his direction before I continue. “Second, you can’t possibly be that man who’s at work, because it doesn’t look like you’re on the clock either. So my question is, will you be asking for my number for someone else?”
A frown covers his face and he chuckles nervously.
“Baby girl, I don’t punch no clocks. I’m a muthafuckin’ boss.” I watch him as he pulls a knot of money from his pocket, before he fans it in the air.
“Is that right?” I ask. “What do you do?”
“I’m a businessman.”
“In what kind of business?”
“I do all kinds of work sweetheart,” he tells me, never fully answering my question.
“Exactly what I thought. You can’t even give me a real answer,” I snort. “I got things to do and you’ve wasted enough of my time.
“Damn, well excuse me!” he exclaims with his hands thrown up in surrender.
“You’re excused,” is all I reply before I turn around and make my way to my destination.
I can hear him mumble something behind me, but I ignore him as I continue my stride, laughing to myself at how some men just can’t seem to deal with rejection. As I make my way closer to the front desk, I put my thoughts aside and give the receptionist a smile. Her name is Daisy, and she’s a young black female who has been working at the nursing home since my mother has been admitted.
“Good morning Miss Bishop, how are you?” Daisy asks returning my smile.
“Good morning, I’m alright. A little under the weather, but alright,” I reply. “How is she?”
“She was doing pretty well these last few days.” Daisy sighs and looks at me sympathetically before she continues.
“Thank you,” I tell the guy who’s holding the door for me.
“No problem beautiful lady,” he responds with a gold-toothed smile.
He continues to hold the door as I make my way past him and through the threshold, not even bothering to cover the fact that he’s staring at my ass. I sigh and roll my eyes when I see that he still has that goofy ass grin on his face, because I already know that he’s about to get on my damn nerves. I make an about face and I put my weight on the door while I shake my umbrella, and release the latch to pull it down.
“I got it,” I tell him, wondering why he’s still standing in my face with that same goofball ass grin.
“Take ya time baby girl, take ya time,” he tells me, licking his large lips with his head cocked to the side.
The move lets me know that he thinks he’s sexy, and I’m hoping like hell that he doesn’t try to play his hand, because I really don’t want to be bothered right now. I don’t say anything in response, because I know that if I do, he’ll take that as an invite to keep the conversation going. He’s a cutie, but he’s not my type. I’ve never been a fan of gold toothed, pants sagging, dread headed, unlaced Timberland wearing boys who thought they were grown, and that’s exactly what he his. He looks like he was in his early twenties and after dealing with Terry at the age of twenty-three, I’ve already vowed to never mess with another guy that young. Just thinking of me turning thirty in two years, having a twenty-five year old boyfriend is embarrassing enough.
Once my umbrella is finally down, I give the guy a weak smile and turn to walk away. I only make it a few steps when I hear him clear his throat.
“Yes?” My head whips around and there’s a clear amount of annoyance dripping from my voice. “What can I help you with?”
“Where yo’ man at?” he asks, stepping back into the building.
“At home,” I tell him flatly.
“Baby girl, you don’t need a man who’s at home,” he licks his lips again. “Nah, you need somebody who’s at work right now making money for your pretty chocolate ass to spend.”
“First off, my chocolate ass can make my own money.” I’m now completely turned around, and taking a step back into his direction before I continue. “Second, you can’t possibly be that man who’s at work, because it doesn’t look like you’re on the clock either. So my question is, will you be asking for my number for someone else?”
A frown covers his face and he chuckles nervously.
“Baby girl, I don’t punch no clocks. I’m a muthafuckin’ boss.” I watch him as he pulls a knot of money from his pocket, before he fans it in the air.
“Is that right?” I ask. “What do you do?”
“I’m a businessman.”
“In what kind of business?”
“I do all kinds of work sweetheart,” he tells me, never fully answering my question.
“Exactly what I thought. You can’t even give me a real answer,” I snort. “I got things to do and you’ve wasted enough of my time.
“Damn, well excuse me!” he exclaims with his hands thrown up in surrender.
“You’re excused,” is all I reply before I turn around and make my way to my destination.
I can hear him mumble something behind me, but I ignore him as I continue my stride, laughing to myself at how some men just can’t seem to deal with rejection. As I make my way closer to the front desk, I put my thoughts aside and give the receptionist a smile. Her name is Daisy, and she’s a young black female who has been working at the nursing home since my mother has been admitted.
“Good morning Miss Bishop, how are you?” Daisy asks returning my smile.
“Good morning, I’m alright. A little under the weather, but alright,” I reply. “How is she?”
“She was doing pretty well these last few days.” Daisy sighs and looks at me sympathetically before she continues.
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