Wifey: Part 2

Jasmine didn’t respond.

“Work your magic,” Gosling added.

Jasmine sighed. “Just one ticket?”

“No, two tickets. Bring somebody with you. Pick the tickets up from the box office window. Both tickets will be under your name.”

“Okay,” Jasmine responded.

Jasmine was reluctant to go, but she had no choice. She had signed up for this role and now she had to live it out or risk being thrown in jail and giving up her monthly stipend, her apartment, and all the perks that came with being a snitch.

She sat down on the couch and thought about how she should play things. She thought about calling Simone, but then she remembered her fourteen–year-old cousin who loved basketball to the point where he ate, drank, and dreamt basketball. She figured she would call him and see if he would want to go.

“Jasmine, you lyin’!”

“No, Corey, I’m serious. Good seats too.”

“Don’t play with me like this, Jasmine.”

Jasmine couldn’t help but laugh. She loved her cousin’s innocence. “You know where Spike Lee sits at, right on the floor?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, we’re two rows behind Spike and all the celebrities.”

“Oh my God! Jasmine, are you serious?”

“Dead-ass.”

“Yo, I love you! I definitely want to go.”

Jasmine laughed. It made her feel good that she could make his day the way she did.

“Just let your mother know that you won’t need no money or anything and that I’ll drop you off at your house after the game. I would come pick you up now, but by the time I get dressed and head to Brooklyn and then drive to Manhattan, we’ll get there too late and miss the start of the game.”

Corey told her that he would let his mother know and that he was going to get dressed and be on the A train in fifteen minutes.

“Just keep your phone on in case we can’t find each other,” Jasmine warned.

Jasmine jumped in the shower, but seeing that she hadn’t had a chance to bring any of her clothes to her new apartment, she put on the same clothes she had been wearing all day long.

She went out for about a half an hour to find a new outfit to wear to the game. She purchased the outfit, and then she ran back to her apartment and got dressed.

By the time J

asmine finished getting dressed, it was close to seven-thirty. So instead of driving her own car, which would have slowed her down and gotten her to the game later than she wanted, she hopped in a yellow cab and got to Madison Square Garden by seven forty-five.

Jasmine linked up with her cousin, and before long the two of them had their tickets and were headed into the world’s most famous arena to see the Knicks play the Lakers.

Thirty

“Jasmine, I can’t believe this!” Corey gushed. “There go Kobe right there, and there’s Carmelo Anthony.”

Jasmine smiled like a supermodel in her black oversized Dior shades, her Gucci signature bag dangling from her wrist as they finally reached their seats. She reached into her bag and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to the usher who had helped them.

“Thank you,” the usher said to her. “Are you familiar with The Ainsworth Prime?”

“No. What is that?”