Wifey: Part 2

Jasmine knew she had the power to press her distress button on the special BlackBerry phone that Gosling had given her, and within minutes she would have cops and federal agents coming to aid her. Although Gosling had stressed to her that she should only use the distress button in literal life-or-death situations, Jasmine was ready to press the button just to check the sassy black stewardess, if she had to.

“Miss, please, can you watch your language? There’s children on the plane,” one of the passengers yelled out to the relief of the white guy sitting in front of Jasmine.

Another passenger screamed, “Yeah, sit down and shut up, so we can take off!”

“Fuck all of y’all!” Jasmine shouted back before taking her window seat.

Just as other stewardesses were coming to the aid of their coworker, the black stewardess realized that Jasmine was backing down, so she retreated and held them off, telling them that everything was under control.

The six-hour flight was the most miserable flight that Jasmine had ever been on in her life, and when the plane landed at twelve thirty in the morning, she couldn’t wait to get off. It seemed like it took forever for the rows of passengers to exit the plane, and to make matters worse, Jasmine was all the way in the back.

Finally she retrieved her bag from overhead,

and her hand hurt like all hell as she got it without any assistance. She made her way to the front of the plane. “Tighten up your weave, bitch!” she said to the stewardess who had confronted her before the plane took off.

“Oh, please. This is all natural, baby girl!” The stewardess pulled on her hair to prove it. The stewardess was originally from Newark, New Jersey, so she knew how to handle herself. She would have fought Jasmine in a heartbeat had Jasmine taken it there.

“Whatever. Enjoy your little job,” Jasmine said and she kept it moving.

Jasmine was beyond stressed out. She needed a drink in the worst way, just to calm her nerves. As she made her way through the terminal she saw Las Vegas Sports Lounge and decided to go in and have a drink. The Sports Lounge was still inside the terminal, so it was perfect for her because she didn’t have to leave the airport or get in a cab or wait until she got to the hotel to get a drink.

Jasmine thought the Lounge was fairly crowded and somewhat poppin’ for that time of night. She made her way to the bar, trying to figure out where she was going to sit. She looked around and noticed a bunch of cute guys in the bar. Before she could finish figuring out where she was going to attempt to sit down, a light-skinned black dude, about six foot three and buff, with a thin beard, good hair, and diamond-studded chain that looked like it cost more than the average house, stood up from his seat at the bar and offered it to her.

“Thank you,” Jasmine said with a smile. She sat down at the bar and positioned her small suitcase next to her.

“I couldn’t have you standing there like that,” the gentleman said to her as he held out his right hand and introduced himself. “I’m Derek McGee,” he said.

Jasmine extended her hand to his for a gentle handshake. “Hi, Derek. I’m Jasmine,”

Jasmine figured she would cut right to the chase and try and determine if Derek was fronting with fake jewels on, or if he was really ’bout it. From his swagger she could tell that he wasn’t a hustler, because he came off way too polite—like he had manners from a two-parent household. And only good dudes with an education would introduce themselves with their full government name.

“Your hands are so soft. Either you don’t work too hard, or you have a bunch of women pampering you,” Jasmine said, blinded by his diamond-studded Audemars watch.

Derek smiled, and Jasmine noticed that all thirty-two of his Chiclet-looking teeth were perfectly aligned and bright white, another sign that he wasn’t a street dude.

“So you stereotyping me based on my hands?” Derek chuckled. “That’s a first,” he added and then asked Jasmine what did she want to drink.

Jasmine told him, and Derek ordered her a coco-loco, and for himself he ordered a Bacardi and Red Bull.

“So you don’t work hard, but you look very successful, you have a ton of women, and you look like a model, and you’re at a bar at one in the morning. That could be a dangerous recipe,” Jasmine said as soon as their drinks arrived.

Derek drank some of his drink and talked into Jasmine’s ear over all the noise and he explained to her that he was a professional football player.

“Okay, so now I have to leave, but thank you for the drink.” Jasmine smiled and pretended to be leaving.

Derek stopped her. “What?”

“You’re a liar, and if you aren’t lying, then that means you’re trouble, because all athletes are trouble.”

Derek smiled. And then he held out his right hand and showed Jasmine his Super Bowl championship ring from the Green Bay Packers.

“Okay, so you’re not a liar; let’s cross that off the list.” Jasmine closely examined the ring. Then she reached for his left hand to see if he had on a wedding ring. “You married?”

Derek shook his head and told her that he was having way too much fun and wasn’t even close to thinking about settling down.

“Yeah, I bet.” Jasmine downed her drink because she wanted to get buzzed.

Derek ordered her another drink. “So let me stereotype you now,” he said to her as her drink arrived. “You don’t work hard, but you look very successful, you have a ton of men, you look like a model, and you’re at a bar at one in the morning. That could be a dangerous recipe.”