Page 4 of Hooked on Loving Him

The shoes are effervescent green with a metallic lace and bottom with my name etched on the sole to give them a unique imprint. They are similar to Pumas due to their low top shaping and style, so my shoes have my imprint to distinguish their difference. Most of my designs have bright and bold colors that I know will speak to a certain age and demographic.

“The color. They won’t match anything I have in my closet, yet I can’t not cop them to stand out in every place I walk through.”

Nodding my head, I push my glasses on my face, which always causes irritation while wearing them. I should have left my contacts in after getting dressed for work, but for some reason, I think the glasses give me a more intellectual persona.

Now you know you wear them because women seem to gush more when you have them on at work.

The statement ringing in my mind has a low chuckle slipping from my lips before I cut it off and focus on the customer.

“Is this all, or do you need something else?”

“Nah, these are it. Hell, you’re about to bust my head as it is. I need to beg Moms for more money before I can come back,” he says, following me to the register where my employee, Chez, is waiting.

“He’s ready,” I say to Chez as he nods wordlessly, allowing me to return to my office where I had been before Chez called me to the front.

Chez is relatively new and gets nervous whenever a customer inquires about one of my shoes. I will have to get him up to speed because while I’m here daily, I don’t want to hold his hand whenever I’m here.

*bzz*

Entering my office, I hear my phone vibrate, alerting me of a text message. I walk to my desk and sit while picking up my phone.

Big Bro:

Why did Jawaan call me crying about you falling following Alice down the hole? What’s going on?

Shaking my head, I begin typing a response to Kyce while pondering ways to kick Jawaan’s ass when I see him.

Me:

Instead of pressing me about going to see Letitia, you should have been telling his clingy ass to go. The nigga had just climbed out of some pussy, so I’m not sure why he didn’t let whoever she was hold his needy ass.

Big Bro:

I did send him Letitia’s info. His stupid ass acted like her business card had gonorrhea. In fact, that’s what he told me while jumping back like the card had shit on it.

“This nigga,” I say, shaking my head because Jawaan acted like he didn’t know who Letitia was when I mentioned her name while proceeding to be dramatic.

Me:

Maybe he’ll go if we hold his bitch ass hand after dragging him to her couch.

Big Bro:

LOL. That might work. We can tell him we’re going on a brother’s trip to a brothel.

Me:

Now you know sis ain’t going for that, and I ain’t got time for her to put me on the prayer list at y’all church. We’re gonna have to find another lie or something for Jawaan’s ass.

Big Bro:

What you mean y’all church?

Laughing, I set my phone down and move my mouse to bring my computer to life while letting Kyce stew a little bit. His wife Masani has him attending church and bible study, but he pretends he’s not a regular church attendee. Knowing what all he’s been through since we lived in the same fucked up house, I love to see him happy and thriving. Also, seeing him as a husband and father makes me slightly envious. While unorthodox, Kyce met his wife in a way that makes fairytales come to life. Yet, I don’t see myself having the same outcome because Kyce’s background is sweet compared to mine.

*bzz*

Big Bro:

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