“Hold up! No need to get feisty.” Geren sensed their date was heading down the wrong path. “I said, if I didn’t know any better. You don’t strike me as the materialistic type. Not in the least.”
“That’s because I’m not. Everything I have, I obtained through my own sweat and tears. I’ve never come out of my mouth and asked a man for money. In fact, I’ve halfway supported most of the brothas I’ve had dealings with.”
“Why are you getting so defens
ive all of a sudden?” Geren asked, becoming increasingly irritated. “I was just joking, Tempest. Damn!”
Tempest sat down in one of the wing chairs facing his desk. “Well, you have a sick sense of humor. I’m tired of men always assuming sistahs are after their money. This is nineteen-ninety-nine. Sistahs are doing it for themselves.”
Geren chuckled. “I couldn’t agree with you more.” Geren got up and walked over to Tempest, sitting in the chair beside her and rubbing her on the knee. “Now I see where you get your name from. You have quite a temper on you, gurl.”
That really agitated Tempest. “I got my name from my momma! A baby can’t be born with a nasty attitude, dufus!”
“Oh, so now I’m a dufus?”
Tempest rolled her eyes in his direction again, but he still held on to her knee because it felt good to him.
“At least you admit you have a nasty attitude. I guess I should be grateful for that.”
Tempest slapped Geren’s hand away and then crossed her arms in front of her. “I’m ready to go home.”
Geren couldn’t believe his ears. “You’ve got to be kidding. What about the rest of our date?”
Tempest got up and picked up the handset of the phone on his desk. “Do you mind driving me, or should I call a cab?”
“Uh-uh-uh, now I get it!” Geren waved his index finger in front of her face. “This is your useless attempt to lure me into a full-blown altercation so you won’t have to go blading.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! I’m just not in the mood to do anything now. At least, not with you. Your gold-digger comment spoiled it for me.”
“What about lunch?”
“We can still do that, I suppose. As long as we go dutch. Better yet, lunch is on me.”
“Just admit it, Tempest.”
“Admit what?”
“That you don’t know nada about in-line skating. You’re afraid I’m going to show you up.”
“This is ludicrous.”
“I tell you what. I promise to take it easy on you. Scout’s honor.”
“Geren, the topic of this conversation has gone way past some freakin’ skating.”
“Okay, fine. Why don’t you tell me where the conversation has gone? Clarify it for me, please.”
“You want to know what my real problem is?”
“Most definitely!”
“Men who always come out of their mouths with derogatory comments about sistahs.”
“For the tenth time, I was just joking.”
“Okay, whatever. Can we just leave now?”
“Let me just send some data files to my home computer, and we can head on out.” Geren grew tired of trying to reason with Tempest. “I still say you’re trying to get out of blading.”