Later that evening, David and I were cuddled up on his leather sofa watching at CNN special when I told him about work.
“That’s government for you,” he said. “Screw the people and get all of their money.”
“You sound like Sonia.”
“Cities aren’t about building neighborhoods. Especially this city.”
“But. . .”
His cell phone rang interrupting us. When he answered it, I stretched against him and heard a female voice on the other end of the phone.
“You’re downstairs?” he said, and then rose to his feet causing me to tumble from the sofa. What the?
“I’ll come down.” He stuffed his feet into a pair of sneakers as I stood up.
“What the hell?” I asked.
“Sorry about that.”
“I’ll be right back,” he said then headed out the door. Color me curious and slightly salty. Three beats passed before I slipped on my shoes and headed downstairs. This felt fishy. Or maybe I was borrowing drama. Didn’t matter, I wanted to know who sent him scampering outside. My first thought was that it was a family member – that’s what I wanted to believe. I needed to think that someone had an emergency that needed his touch.
Six months. Drama free. I needed things to stay that way.
I reached the lobby and saw David and this rotund, overly made up broad having an animated conversation. At first glance, she looked like Eddie Murphy playing one of the Klumps or a bad imitation of Tyler Perry’s Madea. Maybe she was his auntie? But from the way David’s hands accented his words, I knew this wasn’t a family discussion. What in the hell was this all about?
Now, here was my dilemma. Did I handle this like an adult or fall back into typical Mimi behavior—flying off the handle and acting a pure ass? Turning back to the stairs, I weighed my options with each step. Didn’t the last six months mean I should give him the benefit of the doubt? Should I make him suffer because of all the bad relationships I’ve had? Then again, he was the one in the lobby arguing with some heffa that showed up out of the blue.
If the shoe was on the other foot . . . David and I arrived at his door simultaneously. Turning and looking at him, a wave of calmness washed over me then I asked, “What was that all about?”
He opened the door and looked me in the face. “That’s somebody who wants to be where you are.”
I. Should. Have. Run.