Playing Hard To Get

“Someone who wants to be Queen Bee,” Tasha explained. “I’m a woman of action. A woman of power. Now, I told you I wanted my old life back and here I am…back on track. My old things, and soon my new body. And later, my old business.”

Tamia exhaled. She couldn’t even respond to her friend’s craze.

“How much did this cost? Like $10K?” Tamia asked, noticing that Troy was quiet.

Hearing about surgery and thinking of how much it must have cost her friend, Troy, who once lived a life where thinking of price was passé, was busy thinking of how and when she could pay the church’s credit card off without Kyle knowing about it. It had been on her mind constantly since she’d used the card in the store, and while one side of her believed if she returned the money quickly, everything would be okay, the other side knew better.

“Who cares how much it cost,” Tasha said. “I won. I won and I won and I won.” Though she was still a little weak, Tasha did a little dance in the bed before aggravating her stomach muscle again and hollering in pain.

“So what are you supposed to do now? How long are you going to be in bed eating bad food?” Tamia asked.

“Just a few days. Miller’s surgical methods come with little to no swelling. He said I should be back on my feet in two days. In the gym in three weeks.”

“Well, that’s good news,” Troy said, though her mind was still far away.

“So, after I get up and can get my skinny jeans back over this quarter-pounder24—because you know I had him leave that alone,” Tasha said, “I will be expecting you chicks to take me out to celebrate my winning. And I will take cash and checks instead of gifts. Well, a new Louis Vuitton boyfriend will do too.”

“Sure,” Troy said, looking at Tamia and not sure what exactly Tasha thought she was winning. This was a mess.

“Now, enough about me and mine.” Tasha paused and opened her eyes wide. “Ts, I have dispatch!”25

“What?” Tamia asked, afraid of what Tasha might say.

“One of us is about to get married…And I am not at liberty to say who…but two of us already are….”

Troy looked at Tamia.

“What?” Troy shrieked. “Charleston? He came around?!”

“Wait…wait…wait,” Tamia stopped her. “What are you talking about, Tasha? Are you taking too many Percocet?”

“I saw him the other day at Dr. Miller’s office and he told me that he is about to pop the question,” Tasha said. “Now, I know he probably wants it to be a surprise, but the Ts have a wedding to plan and that takes time. Everything in the city has to be booked for the fall by now.”

“A winter wedding,” Troy chimed in, oozing with delight. “White…white everywhere. We can pray for snow! We can have a snow machine.”

“And horses,” Tasha added. “Clydesdales to bring Ms. Lovebird in!”

“And doves!” Troy cried and then she and Tasha sang, “This is w

hat it sounds like when doves cry.”

They laughed at their merriment and went on until the guest list was complete with the Obamas and the Clintons.

“I can get the Met,” Tasha said. “We can have the entire museum!”

Troy noticed that during this entire exchange, Tamia hadn’t said a word. In fact, she’d gotten up from the bed and gone to the window.

“Mia,” Troy called to her old roommate, “aren’t you excited? Don’t you want to help us plan?”

“Sure,” Tamia said flatly, like she was agreeing to see an action movie.

“‘Sure’?” Tasha frowned and looked at Troy. “Wait a minute…one day you’re locking me up in a bathroom talking about a delicious and his alien fiancée and crying about how no one’s going to marry you, and now after I tell you one of the richest men in the city is about to buy you that $55K Jean Schlumberger Bud Ring all you can say is, ‘sure’?”

Tamia continued looking out at the people walking by in the street and shrugged her shoulders.

“Ms. Lovesong?” Tasha called Troy.

“Yes, Ms. Lovestrong?”