, but he didn’t need to know all of that.
I held up my index and middle fingers. “I, Jemistry Daniels, do solemnly swear that I will not unjustly discriminate against Tevin Harris for the simple fact that he is a man.”
Finally, I got a bona fide laugh out of him.
“Cool beans. Let’s grab a table.”
Chapter Three
“The only abnormality is the incapacity to love.”
—Anaïs Nin
I pulled into the building garage for the condo that Winsome and I shared on Sixteenth Street in Adams Morgan about two AM. Getting to know Tevin had been an enlightening experience. Turns out that he was a vascular surgeon at Sibley Memorial, which made him smart as shit. I was about to be in serious trouble because I loved an ambitious and smart man, not to mention smooth, which he definitely was.
We had shared a late dinner and amazing conversation. Gazing into his eyes over the candlelight and being serenaded by his deep, sensual voice was too much for me. Even the way that he ate sushi turned me on.
I sat in my 2011 Nissan Rogue for a moment and digested it all.
“This is how it always begins,” I said aloud. “You fall for a man too soon and then the proverbial shit hits the fan.”
I had agreed to see Tevin again, but did not commit to a specific day or time. I told him to call me the next day at work. I could not believe that I had stayed out so late on a Wednesday when I had to be in my office by eight. Being a high school principal was not an easy feat, but it was a rewarding one. Teens had a bad rap overall; most of my students were simply trying to get an education amidst the pandemonium created by the five percent of students who had been failed by their parents and believed that making a spectacle of themselves would be their claim to fame. I was not having it, not at Medgar Evers High School.
Tevin said that he was thirty-four, and I was thirty-seven. Not a big deal, but I preferred to date men at least my age or older. Then again, I didn’t want to actually date him. I only wanted to fuck him, so it didn’t matter. As long as I kept repeating those intentions to myself, I would be fine.
When I walked into the front door of our condo, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Then again, I shouldn’t have been the least bit astonished by anything Winsome did. After all, she worked as a fake-review writer from home. Yes, it was actually a paid position. Companies such as hotels, restaurants, and retail chains paid her to post positive comments on all the major review websites like Yelp, TripAdvisor, and Zagat. She made her own schedule and only had to send in a weekly list of all the reviews that she had posted in order to get paid. That was one of the reasons why I never paid attention to reviews—at least not the positive ones. A lot of those were fabricated. I was sure that Winsome was not the only one working those sites on the regular. The sites were not at fault since they were simply offering consumers the opportunity to vent about their experiences and to make recommendations.
I was planning to kick off my shoes, sit on the sofa, and watch the latest episode of Paternity Court on the DVR after I’d tossed my purse and keys on the small table in the foyer and walked into the living room. When I first heard that they were making a show with that title, I talked major shit. It was mind-boggling to me that the paternity of so many children could be in question that it warranted an entire show on the topic. Maury already covered that topic about three days a week on the regular. But the thing that fascinated me the most about Paternity Court was Judge Lauren Lake’s hair. It was always flawless. Half the time I could not even concentrate on the cases since I was staring at her hair. I kept meaning to ask my stylist if she thought it was her real hair, a wig, or a weave. Whatever it was, it was banging, and it made me want to step up my game.
As much as I proclaimed that I would never watch a show like that, I was all into it. I would often get emotional over some of the guests and when they showed the little kids playing in the toy area on the screen, I would want to pick them up and embrace them one at a time. Then they had adults who would make an appearance in order to finally discover whom their biological fathers were for once and for all.
Part of my issue with men was that my father had died before I was even born. The one man that I should have been able to count on to love and protect me never even got to meet me. He was a Metropolitan Police officer and he died in a high-speed car chase at the infamous intersection of Minnesota Avenue and Benning Road. My mother was never the same. Well, I can’t say if she was the same or not, but that was how everyone else in the family described her. Never the same. All I know is that she was depressed for my entire childhood, sedated by all kinds of medications, and never loved another man up until she died of breast cancer when she was fifty-two.
* * *
I heard the moaning before I saw the action. Then I saw nothing but tits, asses, and one big-ass dick. Winsome was having a threesome with a man and another woman. I had never laid eyes on either one of them before. She was in the middle and enjoying her own little slice of heaven, lying on her back as the man fed her his dick and the woman ate out her pussy.
I kicked off one of my black boots and threw it at Winsome’s tits. “What the fuck are you doing? I can’t freaking believe this!”
The chick stopped eating her out immediately and looked petrified. I was betting she thought that I was Winsome’s woman coming home, catching her in the act. That exact scenario had happened before and I had to make it clear that I had zero interest in Winsome’s coochie. I simply didn’t care to see it under any circumstances. The man could not have cared less and probably thought that after a few seconds of bitching, I would want to join in since his dick was so big. Nope. Wasn’t happening. He was still trying to shove more of his mandingaling down her throat, trying to get his.
Winsome pushed his dick away from her and sat up. “Damn, Jemistry! Why you throwing boots and all of that? It’s not that serious!”
“Not that serious?” I rolled my eyes. “It’s two in the damn morning and you have strangers up in here fucking you on the sofa that I bought. The one that I sit on to eat my oatmeal every morning and watch my favorite shows on at night. The one that my company sits on to chill. You got musty dick and pussy juice drizzling all over it and you don’t think it’s serious?”
Winsome stood up, tits swinging. “First of all, they’re—”
“Don’t first of all me like I’ve done something trifling. I spoke to you a few hours ago and you said that you were here chilling and working.” I looked the guy in the eyes and then the broad. “You a call girl now? Did they find you on Craigslist or some shit?”
“No, I’m not no call girl and you know it. All I was trying to say is that they’re not strangers. I’ve known them for a minute.” She ran her fingers through the woman’s reddish-brown hair. “This is Kay Kay.”
“What’s up?” Kay Kay said nervously, still probably shocked that I walked in.
Winsome ran the fingers of her other hand down the man’s chest. “And this fine thing right here is Dominic.”
Dominic stared at me, up and down, and licked his lips. “What’s good, cutie?”
Winsome folded her arms in defiance. “See, they’re definitely not strangers.”