Page 15 of Call Me Mrs. Taylor

I squint into the sun. “How you know?”

He shrugs, trying to play it cool, but we all know that’s a front. Dayton is head over heels in love with that girl. Been like that for three years.

“Nah, for real. No bullshit,” I say. “You ain’t gotta front for us.”

“I’m saying,” Titus agrees.

Dayton rubs his chin. “Aight. Well…I don’t know. I guess I got to the point where I felt like, if I wake up tomorrow and she ain’t there, could I go on like normal? And when the answer was no, I knew.”

We sit in silence, ruminating on that. I think we all wanna clown him, because that’s what we do when shit feels too deep or too heavy, but what can we really say? The rest of us are sitting around with no hoes, nobody to love us, nobody to give a fuck if we live or die. Niggas don’t say it out loud, but that shit doesn’t feel good.

“Congratulations,” I finally say, and I mean it. “I’m happy for you.”

Dayton looks skeptical, but he relaxes when the other guys chime in with their well wishes.

“When?” Jovan asks.

“I gotta pick out a ring, first. Her sister’s supposed to be helping me.”

I shake my head. When Dayton notices, he laughs. “Yo, I forgot you and Shayenne messed around.”

“Yeah, that wedding gon’ be interesting, bruh.”

Jovan frowns. “Remind me, what happened?”

“I mean, nothing, really.” I shake my head. “We went out a couple of times, fucked, then I started slow fading because I wasn’t feeling her. The bitch slashed my fuckin’ tires.”

“I remember that shit,” Bron laughs. “I thought y’all both agreed it was just sex.”

“We did! She knew what it was. Day knows.”

Dayton nods vigorously. “Shara was on my ass about that, too. I told her I can’t be responsible for the shit you do, but she was pissed. So thanks for that, bitch ass nigga.”

“It ain’t my fault these hoes get attached,” I say. “Like this one I went out with the other night. She been blowin’ up my phone ever since.”

Titus is interested now. He leans toward me. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“I mean…nothing I can put my finger on. You know sometimes they just feel off.”

“Aww, shit.” Bron shakes his head knowingly. “The crazy ones be havin’ the best pussy, though.”

I incline my head in agreement. “Flames, my nigga.”

“Shit, call her ass back,” Titus says. “I’m in a fuckin’ drought right now. Shit is dryin’ up out there. These hoes want you to wine and dine and pay bills and shit. I don’t know what happened in these last few years, but I think I’m off American women.”

“Hereyougo.” Day points a finger at Titus. “Don’t get caught up. They be killin’ these passport bros. Ya mama ain’t finna be cryin’ on my shoulder about bringing your body back from Colombia.”

“Shit’s stupid anyway,” I say. “Wherever you go, there you are. If you a lame in America, you gon’ be lame as fuck down there. Get your weight up.”

Titus waves a hand at me. “Easy for you to say. You got ‘em throwin’ it at you.”

It’s a claim I can’t deny.

But see, Titus’ problem is the elephant in the room. He’s a good five inches shorter than he needs to be to get the women he wants. We tell his ass all the time to manage his expectations, but he stays trying to get at the baddest women.

“Anyway, I think old girl is a chop,” I say about Raya. “I gotta focus.”

What I don’t say is that she turned me down after the date.

---