Carter sighed. He was not looking forward to this trip for many reasons, but the primary being how the warmth of her hand covering his made him feel. It was unsettling yet weirdly comforting.
Chapter 11
Two year’s prior
It had been some time since Harlem had been home long enough to catch up with her girlfriends. This weekend was a special occasion. Her childhood bestie was getting married in a few weeks, and Harlem was one of her bridesmaids. Mesha was the first in their group to take the plunge into matrimony.
They sat in her living room with another friend, drinking wine and reminiscing about the past. Mesha pointed her wineglass at Harlem. “I always thought between the three of us that you would be the first to get married.”
“Why me?” Harlem pointed at herself.
Both Mesha and their other friend Charisma Jones stared at her as if she had two heads. It was a ridiculous question which was why the room erupted with hysterical laughter.
“C’mon, Harlem. You’ve been planning your wedding since you were fourteen.” Mesha said through her fit of laughter.
Charisma corrected her. “Thirteen.” The chorus of laughter grew even louder.
“That’s not exactly true.” Harlem hedged as she held back her own giggle. “I just like being prepared, so I might have jotted down a few notes.”
“Notes?!” Mesha howled in laughter. “More like lists, and those damn things were long.”
Charisma nodded in agreement. “Don’t forget the vision boards. Harlem, you had one for every damn thing.”
She knew her friends were teasing, but it kind of hit a nerve. “Not everything.”
“No. Just the important stuff.” Mesha began to tick them off her fingers. “You had a board for college.”
Charisma co-signed. “You followed big head Michael Matthews to U of I.”
“She graduated. He didn’t and got involved with illegal shit.” Mesha said. “He was a loser. I think that’s when Harlem came up with her boyfriend vision board.”
“I thought the Architect vision board was first.”
“Wait…it was. We were sophomores in high school when Harlem did that one.”
“Now, my girl is one of the baddest in the Chicagoland area.” Charisma said proudly.
Mesha continued to go down the list. “Let’s get back to the boyfriend . . . what was on that thing again?”
“Everything opposite of Michael’s ass. Let’s see, the dude had to be taller than Harlem. He had to be Morris Chestnut chocolate. Why Morris Chestnut chocolate?”
“You know Harlem. She wanted the fairytale. She wanted her strong black king.”
Harlem nodded and smiled cheekily. “Yep. Just like my daddy.”
They couldn’t lie. Harlem’s dad was well into his early seventies and was still a dark chocolate snack. All the girls had crushes on him when they were young. Charisma shook her head slightly, thinking about how attractive Mr. Thomas was. “Where were we? Oh. Her guy had to be ambitious. He had to have clear goals. He couldn’t do drugs or have any bad habits. He had to be wealthy and funny. Is Damian funny?” Charisma turned to Mesha.
“I think he’s more relaxed and laid back. Harlem’s hyper-ass needed that. It wasn’t on the list, but glad she figured it out.” Mesha added.
“Are y’all done?” Harlem said after her friends read her like a book.
“I do have one more question. Mesha is getting married. You have Damian. Why haven’t you hooked me up with Damian’s friend, Carter?” Charisma asked.
Harlem accidentally snorted. “Because we’re friends. If I set you up with him, we wouldn’t be. Carter is a H-O-E.”
“That might be but lordy, he’s fine! He own’s that Sports Agency right? The one that signs all the top athletes.” Charisma asked.
Harlem nodded. “Yep. His family comes from money. I think Carter runs that business just for the groupies.”
“I can certainly understand why women would throw themselves at him. I’m mean, Carter is taller than Damian, isn’t he? He’s like at least six-foot-three and built like an Adonis. He looks like one too with that sun-kissed blonde hair and blue eyes.” Charisma’s eyes rolled into the back of her head.
Mesha laughed, “Don’t have an orgasm on my couch.”
“Girl, I know. I certainly could. Carter could get it. A man in a suit, and he does that George Michael thing with his beard. And Carter’s lips . . . gaaawd they look like they can–“
“Okay. Okay!” Harlem put up her hands. Charisma was giving her a visual that might burn her retinas. “Please. I get it. You’re going to make me vomit over here.”
“I’m just saying. You should hook a sista up!” Charisma was only half-joking.
“You know Harlem. She ain’t going to introduce you to Carter because he’s white.” Mesha took a sip of her drink.
Harlem couldn’t believe that. “What? Are you serious? Y’all know Carter has the worst reputation. If he were black I still wouldn’t try to set you up.”
“I don’t know, Harlem. You’re not the most flexible person. I’ve never known you to entertain the idea of dating outside of your race.” Charisma also took a sip of her drink.
“First, Carter would date anyone wearing a dress. I’m not sure he has a type. I think his only criteria is that the woman is hot. Both you and Charisma fall in that category.” Her friends were very attractive women. Drop-dead gorgeous in Harlem’s estimation. Although Mesha was the shortie out of the trio, standing only at five-foot-two, she was the curviest. But what she lacked in stature, she more than made up in sass and style. Mesha wore her hair opposite Harlem.
