“I hear Miley Cyrus has a new CD.”
There was no response. Sharon suspected Liz was ignoring her and scrolling through her social media feed instead. She turned around to look, confirming her suspicions.
“Did you hear me?”
“Wait, we’re really about to have this conversation?” Liz put her phone down.
“Yes, I’m engaging in dialogue, Liz. This is what friends and other civilized human beings do. They don’t sit around on their phones not talking to one another.”
“Au contraire mon frère. Friends discuss things that they are both interested in or have a desire to know more about. What makes you think I care about whatever Miley Cyrus is doing?” Liz twirled her curly braid around her finger and Sharon felt a pang of jealousy.
That had been happening more and more lately. Seeds of unfavorable feelings or thoughts were planted in the recesses of her mind and slowly starting to impede on her thoughts. Jealousy or envy never used to frequent her, but she found them rearing their ugly heads here and there when she was spending time with Liz.
She envied Liz’s uncanny ability to say whatever was on her mind. Who would argue with someone as gorgeous as her? She kept her hair braided in these ornate styles (ornate to Sharon) and the long, braided tendrils literally cascade down her back. She could walk into a library and make the eldest person there blush, be it man or woman. She just had this way about her that made you want to be closer. It was magnetic. You were pulled in by her smile, her intense stare or simply her genuine nature. She made everyone who talked to her feel like the most important person in the room.
Worst yet, she had no idea that she had this superpower.
“Miley Cyrus is pop culture, Liz. You make me listen to what is going on with the housewives of wherever. I thought you would care.”
Liz sat up and glanced around. Her eyes quickly darted back and forth. “Shhhh,” she smushed her forefinger to her lips, “that is my guilty pleasure. No one is s’posed to know I watch trash T.V. I am a writer. I’m s’posed to be deep and intellectual, remember?”
Sharon snorted. “Oh yeah. I forgot. It’s our dirty little secret.” Sharon found it especially annoying that Liz could portray this persona of being an academic intellectual when she didn’t know how to spell fallacious. She always screwed up the i and u.
“Let’s talk more pleasurable things,” Liz transfigured into a yoga pose. “Have you gone out with anyone from Bumble yet?”
How did she get her arm all the way down there? Sharon thought as she tilted her head to the right to watch Liz stretch.
“I’ve gone on dates.”
“Girl, dish the goods!” Liz switched to a different pose and her braids grazed the ground. “Did he look like his photos? Did his breath smell? Did you even get close enough to smell his breath? Did you wish you could disappear halfway through the date? Did he have manly hands? Did he have a mole that you think he should get checked out? Any surprise kids? Surprise baby mommas that came on the scene guns-a-blazin’? Spill it.”
“You can tell you’re a writer because half of those scenarios would have never even occurred to me.” Sharon shook her head and crossed her legs to sit in Liz’s chair. Being only five-foot-one, she could fold up into just about any chair and find comfort.
“He did look like his photos, his breath smelled like chocolate chip cookies. I only know that because we kissed at the end of the night and this was after we shared a cookie dessert at the café.”
“You kissed him on the first date? Aren’t we fast?” Liz was now bent over backward and arching her torso towards the ceiling.
“Excuse you!” Sharon huffed and tried to stick her leg out to tip Liz over, but she was too far away. “You have to remember that we have been messaging one another for weeks and have face-timed each other almost daily. I felt like I already knew him and meeting in person was just a technicality.” Sharon shrugged and checked her phone to see if she had any text messages.
“So why did it take so long to meet?”
“Um, you know,” Sharon shrugged. “Our schedules didn’t really align?”
“People make time for what they want to make time for.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“’ Xactly what I said.”
“So, you’re saying that he’s not really interested in me because he did not break his neck to rearrange his schedule to fly here and meet me in person sooner rather than later?”
“Wait,” Liz stopped stretching and looked directly at Sharon, “did you just say, ‘fly here’? Since when are you open to dating someone long-distance? I thought you hated long-distance relationships. Are you going to move? Are you open to moving? Where does he live”
Sharon blushed. “I need a snack.” She jumped up to go into the kitchen to get away from Liz’s interrogation.
She was keeping the details around where he lived a secret. Actually, she was keeping him a secret and the fact that they had already done more than kiss. Liz, with all her infinite wisdom and open-mindedness, would jump to conclusions and be too dramatic. It’s the artist in her. Therefore, she conveniently left out the fact that they met on her work trip to Vegas last month and Bumble had nothing to do with it.
She was speaking at a conference for HR professionals and he caught her eye from the stage. His brown curly hair and large grin had drawn her in as soon as she saw him sitting in the third row on the aisle. He smiled at her colloquial style of presentation which she used to gain buy-in from her listeners. He laughed when she wanted something to be funny and his eyes softened when she was demonstrating compassion.
After her presentation was complete and she was shaking hands with various people in the crowd, she saw him get in line to greet her and take a picture. When his time to approach came, he almost seemed shy.
“You’re a phenomenal speaker,” he said. He stuck out his hand to greet her. “I feel like I should hug you because you may have single-handedly just saved my career.”
“I’m open to a hug. Less chances of exchanging germs.” Sharon wrapped her arms around him. He smelled woodsy with a hint of coffee and mandarins.
Sharon could still smell his scent when she was up in her room and an email came through. It was a name she hadn’t recognized but the subject line read “still enamored.”
It wasn’t uncommon for her to receive “fan mail” from people who enjoyed her sessions, but the majority of the time, they were asking her to be a mentor or to “pick her brain” about how she transformed her career from an HR generalist to a motivational speaker and people consultant.
She opened the email and it read:
Hi Sharon,
I hope this finds you well. I’ve never done this before, but I just had to reach out to you. I found your email on LinkedIn with your profile picture (which I can’t stop staring at). I would love the chance to get to know you more. Are you open to grabbing coffee tomorrow morning? If you’re still in town, perhaps we could grab lunch during the break? I’m flexible.
Hope to hear from you soon,
JJ
She stared at the email, unsure of how to respond. She was flattered and could really use some male attention and affection. She had extended her stay in Vegas for one more day to catch the J. Lo show. He was really attractive, and she hadn’t been on a date in forever. Not even a simple coffee date.
She responded, agreeing to meet for coffee at 8 a.m. She figured an early morning coffee in Vegas couldn’t hurt.
They met at 8 a.m. but their coffee turned into breakfast which turned into lunch then into dinner which led to cocktails after the show. They talked, laughed and danced the night away. By the end of the night, she was lying in his arms.
“I’ve never done this before?”
“What? Stayed in a hotel in Vegas?” he chuckled.
“No, silly. I’ve, uh, never met someone and spent the entire day with them, then had them in my hotel at night.”
“Oh, uh, well- I can go if this is uncomfortable.”
“No, no,” Sharon sat up. “It’s not uncomfortable at all. I just wanted you to know that this isn’t a norm for me. That’s all.”
“So, you’re saying you’re not a hussy?” He grinned revealing a deep dimple on the right side of his cheek.
“Not purposefully. She winked and turned off the light beside the bed.
—
“Can you bring me a sparkling water when you come back in?” Liz’s voice snapped Sharon out of her daydream. She sat the water on the table beside her couch. All of Liz’s furniture looked like it came from a second-hand shop yet she had paid big money to have everything custom made. It was her gift to herself after she wrote her first book and it made the New York Times bestsellers list. The couch resembled a patchwork quilt because it was upholstered in multiple patterns and fabrics. Liz had the designer use special t-shirts, blankets, jackets and even pieces of her favorite stuffed animal to pepper throughout the pattern and keep it eclectic and meaningful. Her chair was just as unique and but in a deep blue color that somehow complimented the busyness of the couch just right. She was able to add pillows and a variety of end tables that brought the whole look together. Sharon’s apartment was copied from Ikea.
“What did you do last night?” Sharon asked.
“Ugh, I don’t want to even think about it.”
“What happened this time?”
“My mom insisted I meet another eligible bachelor. It was some son of one of her church lady friends. He was apparently in town for a funeral. He was the most uptight man I have ever met. He literally said that he prefers women to wear their natural, God-given hair and not extensions. I just said, ‘thanks for volunteering that information’ and asked for the check. I mean the nerve!” Liz started piling her braids into a bun on the top of her head. “But back to our original conversation. B.T-dubs, nice try in changing the subject, but no Bueno. Tell me more about this date! So, he flew in. Where did he stay? Where did ya’ll go? Were you nervous? What did you wear? Did you wear those dark jeans that flatter your butt? They also make your legs looks longer. How did you wear your hair? Did you put on sexy panties? Why do I feel like I’m having to pull the details out?”
“Because you haven’t stopped asking questions long enough for me to answer.” Sharon rolled her eyes, hoping to buy more time.
“Okay, okay. Tell me what you want me to know.”
“He’s an HR executive for a top retailer in New York. He doesn’t have any kids but has been divorced for three years. He is originally from Chicago and went to Indiana University. He has three older sisters and his mom passed away when he was a senior in college. She never got to see him graduate, so his main motivation is making her proud, so she knows he is doing something with his life.”
Liz had stopped sipping on her water and was staring at Sharon with a weird look on her face.
“Did he used to sing in the church choir as a kid?”
“Yeah . . .”
“Does he hate sweets but loves salty foods and when he does eat sweets must follow it by something salty like potato chips?”
“Uh, yeah? How do you know all of this?”
Liz sat the edge of the couch, massaging her temples with her middle fingers. “Is his name Jerrell Johnson but he goes by ‘JJ’?”
“Yeah. How do you know him?”
“Because I used to be married to him.”
Stay tuned for Part 2!
