I made a mad dash for the door before someone else could ask me about finances.
I was almost to my car, a 2000 Toyota Camry that was nearly paid for, when Boom came out the salon to yell down the street at me. “Rayne, don’t forget to call Conquesto!”
“I won’t!” I yelled back at her.
“Cool! I’ll tell him to expect your call tonight!”
Tonight? Did it have to be tonight? Calgon, aromatherapy candles, and a glass of White Zinfandel were all calling my name.
I did call Conquesto as soon as I got home since “Momz” didn’t appreciate calls late at night. Much to my surprise, he possessed a greater command of the English language than his older sister. I told him I wouldn’t be able to stay on the phone long. He said he was on the way out the door anyway. We made plans to check out a movie Saturday night and left it at that.
“Come on, Rayne, you’ve got to hang out tonight!”
Chance was riding me hard at nine the next morning about hanging out at Passion, a Latin club down on the waterfront that featured “the sexiest club atmosphere in Washington, D.C.” according to them.
Chance had hopped on the bus with me when I broke camp out of Birmingham, Alabama. She said there was no way I was leaving her behind. We grew up together and went to the University of Alabama together. It was only natural that we should take that next giant step together and we did. Now we worked together at the First Community Bank. The only thing we didn’t do was live together. That was where I drew the line.
I loved Chance to death, but she wasn’t the greatest housekeeper. Therefore, I had a one-bedroom in Georgetown and Chance had an efficiency in Adams Morgan. Our salaries were comparable. But we had different priorities and I managed my money better. Chance was a jewelry fanatic. I told her all the time that she could build one hell of an investment portfolio with the money she threw away on earrings alone every month. How she could work at a bank and not take advantage of certificates of deposit and money market accounts was beyond me. I took advantage of everything. You’d never find me flipping burgers at Burger King when I was seventy.
“Rayne, you hanging with me tonight or not?” Chance asked from her desk, about five feet away from my own. The bank had recently opened and there was a long line at the teller booths. No one needed special assistance as of yet so we were engaged in our normal morning banter.
“Not,” I replied, answering the same question for the fifth time in a row. “I have a date tomorrow so I want to rest up tonight.”
“Date?” Chance’s eyes lit up like moonbeams. “With who?”
“Boom’s brother.”
Chance broke out in laughter. “That hoochie momma hairdresser of yours?”
I was insulted. I’m not certain why, but I was. “Yes, Boom does my hair. What of it?”
“It’s just that I’ve seen her and how ghetto she acts. If her brother’s anything like her, I can’t imagine you’d be feeling him.”
“Actually, Conquesto was extremely nice on the phone. We only spoke briefly, but he seems interesting enough.”
“Conquesto?” Chance folded her arms over her chest, cupping her elbows, and shaking her head. “This only gets better. Where are you going?”
“To a movie. We’ll probably check out The Fighting Temptations.”
“Ricky and I saw that last weekend. It was hilarious.”
Ricky was Chance’s part-time boyfriend, part-time sparring partner. They hated each other one day and were madly in love the next. I personally thought the situation was unhealthy and never hesitated to express my opinion. Chance, of course, never wanted to hear it.
“Well, you and Ricky have fun at Passion tonight. I’m definitely passing.”
“You’ll never meet someone by staying to yourself, Rayne.”
I felt another lecture coming on and started shuffling through some papers on my desk. I had this obsession with being organized and hated it when one thing was out of place, either on top of my desk or in my drawers.
Chance was still sitting there glaring at me, like my love life, or lack thereof, had a direct effect on hers. I said, “I told you I have a date tomorrow.”
“So it’s basically a blind date? You only talked over the phone, right?”
“Yes, so what of it?”
She shook her head. “I know absolutely nothing about the brother, but I seriously doubt he’s your type.” Chance got up, walked over, and sat on the edge of my desk. “Now he’s your type,” she whispered, pointing a finely manicured index finger toward the teller windows.
Sure enough, there he was. I’d seen him in the bank on several occasions, but didn’t know his name. He was tall enough to be a professional basketball player and he obviously worked out. However, his tailored suits gave off a more professional air. I assumed he worked somewhere downtown near the bank. He had a strikingly handsome face, smooth chocolate skin, and wore his hair shaped close to his scalp. I couldn’t imagine anything making him look sexier, with the exception of maybe going bald altogether. He looked about my age and he always walked like he was a man of power. Yes, he was the kind of man I needed in my life, but it was impossible for a man that fine to be single. Not in D.C. where women outnumber men by an eight to one ratio. Besides, I assumed he was probably one of those shallow brothers who preferred stick women to show off on their arms.