Meechy drove Andie back to his apartment where Clareese, waited patiently, like the wife she would never become. Clareese knew two things. She knew how to love Meechy and she knew how to use his gun. Meechy knew she would do anything for him after he said he had a crush on the television character Marsha Brady and she dyed her red hair blond.

Clareese anxiously listened as they walked up the creaking steps to his third floor, one-room apartment overlooking a street with no visible street sign. Each time there was silence, she knew Meechy was all over her. Kissing. squeezing , smelling her. She boiled inside at the thought of it, pacing back and forth in her Jimmy Choo spiked high-heels barely missing the uncovered mattress in the middle of the floor. When Meechy and Andie entered the darkroom, Clareese slammed the door behind them firing two shots. One for each of them. She missed Meechy.

Two days later, a story about Andie was in a different section of the paper. The obituary column. Apparently, no-last-name Meechy had an ex-girlfriend who didn’t know that she was an ex-girlfriend.

It had been several years since she cried about Andie. The painful memory was never far enough away.

   “I believe they are waiting for you inside, Miss Taylor, are you alright?” The limousine driver asked.

“I’m fine.”  She said as she entered the hotel lobby.

” Ladies and Gentlemen our guest of honor has arrived. The National Association of  Publishers is proud to present this year’s service award to Christina Marie Taylor owner and publisher of  SHE SAID, a magazine that has  uplifted and directed young women of color for over 12 years now.” The announcer said.

 As the spotlight followed Christina to the podium, the audience stood up and applauded her.

“On behalf of my Father, Charles Taylor, and my writing partner, Andrea Russell, I Thank You all very much. I will do my best to continue serving women in all walks of life who go unrecognized and unreported in the trials and victories of their daily lives.” She said gracefully. I thank GOD for the journey.

 The camera flashes were blinding and the extended hugs were welcomed but it did not stop her from scanning the room. She searched for a  silver tuxedo with a yellow rose in the lapel. Brad promised to be seated at table 7 with her father.

BEEN DETAINED. BUT WILL MEET YOU AT THE CEREMONY. was the message on her voicemail.

Charles Taylor was a distinguished man in his late sixties. Tall, confident, had a killer smile, and had a face you enjoyed looking at. He kissed his daughter on the cheek with pride.

“I’m proud of you baby. You deserve this. On the other hand, how does it feel to be engaged to a man who didn’t even show up tonight”?  Charles asked.

“Not now, Dad. Maybe something happened to him”.

“Something should happen to make you come to your senses.”  He said. “You might as well get use to the idea. In thirty days, like it or not, with or without your permission, I am going to become Brad’s wife.”

“You mean his third mistake,” He said.  Christina looked at her watch, as she thought of the many places Brad could be. Across town, at the Chicago Hyatt Regency, there was another celebration going on.

  “Surprise. Surprise, don’t close your eyes,” whispered the beauty with the endless legs  in the french cut bikini. Most of the guests were asleep or too drunk to notice, but she danced anyway.

A slightly intoxicated Brad rolled over and smashed the last rose pedal on his lapel. His focus was not as clear, but he was at least staring in her direction.  Bare breast with a sheer top around the neck, a black laced fishnet slip, and extra-long lean legs. Who was this exotic beauty?

She moved around the room in a slow, enticing, motion. The music was inviting but Brad could not respond. He raised up and looked closer with both eyes. There it was, a small birthmark in the shape of a tiny grape, right beneath her left breast.

He only knew one other person who had such a mark. Jasmine “The Whip” Harrington. Voted “Miss Sizzle” her freshman year. She was five feet seven, voluptuous and exotic.

In college, Jasmine was a confirmed 3″M” major. Men. Money. Marriage. 

For two years she was a “write in” candidate for Homecoming Queen and never officially promoted herself. She didn’t have to. While everyone else fought to stay on endless diets, complained about their imperfections, insecurities with legs, hair, skin, knobby knees, or body oppression, the men in their lives, or the lack of men in their lives, Jasmine often complained that men only wanted her because of the way she looked.

    Jasmine and Brad flirted harmlessly with each other throughout College.  No one took the other seriously or dare make an attempt to move in closer. Not until one breezy fall evening before a playoff game.

   Jasmine was in the washroom drying her best-fitting skin tight jeans. Brad was returning from a work out with the rest of the team in the weight room.

The clinging sound of the zipper bouncing around in the dryer caught his attention, as the smell of her tigress perfume drifted in the almost-dusk evening air. 

  Jasmine was seated with her legs folded on top of the second washer in the third row. She pretended to read her Shakespeare assignment as her wide green eyes gazed at Brad.  When the dryer rolled over one last time and stopped, it became so quiet the only sound you heard was Brad’s heart beating.  Brad was sure he was reading her signals correctly this time.   Jasmine, was sending a green light tonight.  But why?  Brad walked over to her and placed his left hand gently over her shoulder.

” I think your jeans are ready” Brad whispered to Jasmine.

“What about you,are you ready”? Jasmine smiled, kissing him seductively on the corner of his lips.

” Oh sure, I’m ready… for the game tomorrow” Brad answered as if he didn’t really know

what her eyes were suggesting. He was engaged for the first time, and hoping for an NFL contract. Jasmine was the reigning campus queen who was currently involved with another law student.

They were both very much aware of the body fires that screamed to be put out.

“Jasmine”, Brad hesitated, if I ask you something will you say “yes”?

“No”, she smiled but if I show you something, will you promise not to tell?

“Yes” he said.

“Look at this”, Jasmine said as she removed her halter top and turned her left shoulder towards Brad.

“Does it look like a grape to you or a… “cherry”. ?

  Brad moved in closer and slowly licked her back. Jasmine welcomed his arms completely around her and found his lips hot, wet, and inviting. They kissed as if it was their very first time. It was.