Do’s:
1. Be completely honest.
2. Compliment her whenever she looks good.
3. Loan her something that will complete her outfit.
4. Tell her if it’s too small or tight.
Don’ts:
1. Hate on her outfit because it’s better than yours.
2. Be close-minded.
3. Lie because you don’t want to hurt her feelings.
4. Ever suggest you two wear matching outfits.
Out with the Girls, L.A. Style
Things got a little crazy after we left the hotel. Well, about as crazy as they could get for a pregnant woman and two law students.
“So who has the first round?” Tasha asked when we finally made our way to a table at Shonda’s. Tamia was right—the place was jumping. The crowd outside was spilling out into the street and if it wasn’t for Tasha seeing one of the Lakers she knew standing outside, we would’ve never gotten in.
“What do you mean, round?” Tamia said, patting Tasha’s stomach.
“I was going to order cranberry juice, Tamia.”
“And vodka,” I added, laughing. “I can’t believe this place is so packed,” I said, looking over the crowd. So far I’d spotted two actors, a washed-up rapper, and a group of huge men I suspected were football players. The L.A. scene was strikingly different from the scene I was used to in New York. People were pretty laid-back in New York, but the L.A. dream girls who looked like they were all on starvation diets and the guys who clearly had paid too much for their clothes because they were sipping on water seemed so super
ficial. Folks were posted up all over the restaurant trying so hard to look important and struggling to look like they were having the time of their lives.
“Yeah, I could’ve saved the time I spent calling to make a reservation. That woman at the door was evil.” Tamia groaned, eyeing the gaunt Asian girl standing by the door. “She doesn’t even have a list in her hand.”
“L.A. is a very selective place,” Tasha said. “Either you’re in or you’re out.”
“Like that outfit Old Girl has on,” Tamia said, pointing to a girl walking by wearing a mini-mini skirt that stopped right below her ass cheeks—well, almost below her ass cheeks.
“Exactly.” Tasha chuckled. “Who let the hoes up in here?” The girl, who had to be at least a size 22, turned and looked at our table. “Nice skirt, girl,” Tasha said, grinning. The girl smiled and kept walking.
“You’re crazy, Tasha.” I looked for my compact in my purse. I spotted a cutie standing by the door. He was absolutely gorgeous. I would’ve thought he was Larenz Tate if it wasn’t for the dreads hanging down his back.
“What are you getting all cute for?” Tamia asked. I could see her looking at me in the side of my compact.
“Four o’clock,” I replied, putting on extra lip gloss. I had only been in L.A. a few hours but the glowing L.A. sun was already affecting my skin. Just riding down La Cienega in the backseat of the drop-top Tamia had rented had turned my skin a deep caramel. It looked radiant, like I had been out sitting on the beach all day.
“Oh, he’s fine,” Tamia said, spotting the Larenz look-alike.
“The one with the dreads?” Tasha turned to get a look at him. “Yeah, he’s cute, but I could do without the dreads. Those things are nasty. You never know what he has hiding up in there.”
“I’m willing to find out what he’s hiding!” Tamia gave me a high five over the table. “I think dreads are sexy.”
He looked toward us and Tamia waved at him.
“He’s mine, heifer.” I grabbed her hand.
“No, he’s his.” Tasha pointed to Larenz. Another man with dreads walked up to him and gave him a hug that lasted a little too long for friends. They locked arms and walked out of the restaurant together.