Another Time, Another Place

“Like everything else we did today wasn’t enough? You gonna hurt a brother.”

Strength and stamina, I love it. Bishop holds my hand as he drives me to my dropoff at the Sandy Springs Marta. He pulls up to the curb and a few other late commuters are returning to their cars.

“Connie, I’ll meet you here seven-thirty a.m. sharp tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. See you then.”

We give a quick peck and go our separate ways. I feel like I’ve been horseback riding all damn day. My pussy is worn out and I’m glad. It’s an excellent accomplishment for our last encounter.

I look up to see someone staring at me. No, it’s not George, but Quincy Perkins, one of Keith’s boyz.

“Whatz up, Connie?”

Oh shit, here we go. “Nothing. How are you, Quincy?”

“I’m fine. Looks like you doing fine, too.”

Shit, he knows. I look in the direction of Bishop’s car and can see the taillights at the traffic light before he turns the corner.

“It’s not what you think, Q. I’m carpooling. That’s all.”

“Out here? Seems like you’d be at the North Springs station.”

“Look, Quincy, this is the station that’s most convenient for everyone. It’s that simple.” I hope his dumb ass believes me. What does he know about corporate America, anyway? What I don’t need is for him to alarm Keith. So, I have to go along with this bullshit until he’s satisfied with my answers.

“So, that brotha works at your job?”

“Yes, Q. He’s the director of accounting and has been there for a number of years. What’s your point?”

“My point? My point is, does Keith know you’re carpooling with this brotha?”

Damn! Now he’s got me. Do I lie or tell the truth? Lie, of course. I’ll make this right with Keith when I get home.

“Yeah, he knows and is cool with it.” I pray this suffices.

“Uh-huh, aight. I’ll see you two at my BBQ on Saturday.”

“Okay. Tell Daphne ‘hi’ for me.” I hope I sound sincere.

“Yeah, aight.”

I call Keith the moment Quincy is out of my sight. I know his ass is going to call him regardless of my explanations. I toss my laptop and purse in the SUV and dial Keith.

“Hello,” he answers. His cool-sounding voice is music to my ears.

“Hey, sweetie. How are you?”

“Hey, Connie. Whatz up?”

“Nothing much. Just calling to say I’ll be home soon.”

“Yeah, aight. Well, look, I got Q on the other line right now. Let me call you right back.”

“Okay. I’ll chat with you soon.”

Shit, shit, shit! I pound the steering wheel and drive like a bat out of hell to fix whatever damage Q causes.

Quincy is cool and all, but he and his girlfriend, Daphne Raquelle, are nosey as hell. Whenever I’m around them, they get on my nerves cause they always argue like two Chihuahua on steroids. She constantly yaps after him, and he barks at her. I don’t know how they stand each other. They are too much alike. They are both control freaks and power hungry. They each have to be right all the damn time. Maybe that’s the source of their problems. You don’t have to be Oprah or Dr. Phil to figure that shit out. I can only imagine what sex must be like between them—“No, you get on top.” “No, damn it, you get on top.” “Give me some head.” “No. You eat my