Page 22 of Curvy Girl Summer

“Are these all the customers you’re waiting on?” I asked sarcastically.

“Yep,” he replied with a smirk. “And it doesn’t look like either of them is the date you’re waiting on.”

I sucked my teeth. “Asshole,” I muttered under my breath.

Digging into my bag, I grabbed my wallet. When I saw that I never broke the hundred-dollar bill that I’d gotten from the ATM, I was even more frustrated. I wanted to throw my money on thebar and storm out. But I refused to give that man an eighty-dollar tip.

I watched him at the other end of the bar as he took the drink orders of the two women who had just entered. Shifting my gaze away from him, I stared at my reflection in the mirror that covered the wall in front of me.

What am I doing?

I’d spent two and a half hours finger coiling my thick hair. I wore a mauve dress that fit my full figure like a glove and complemented my rich mocha complexion. I wore black strappy heels that pinched my pinky toe but made my ass look incredible. I moved up my appointments, so my wax, nails, and eyebrows were fresh. All for a man that never even bothered to show up.

My phone vibrated and I startled. Seeing Nina’s name dance across the screen immediately relaxed me.

“Hello?” I answered.

“What do you mean he hasn’t shown up yet?” she shouted, replying to the text I sent her a few minutes prior.

“My coworker’s friend hasn’t shown up, and I’m about to leave,” I told her. “This was a waste of time, energy, makeup, and an outfit.”

“I’m sorry. Screw him. And honestly, screw your coworker, too.”

“Yeah, I should’ve never agreed to go.” I sighed, closing my eyes again. “I just wanted to meet someone, hit it off, and ring in my birthday with a man.”

“And you still can. One man’s fuckup is another man’s opportunity. Write that down. That’s quotable.”

“Oh my God.” I let out an amused groan. “I’m serious.”

“I’m serious, too! Do you want a boyfriend, or do you just want a man for your birthday to prove your family wrong?” Nina asked.

“Both,” I answered. “I mean, I don’t want just anyone. And I don’t want my first or second date with the guy to be my birthday party. I’m turning thirty. I’m trying to celebrate and then go to the house and get my back blown out.”

I opened my eyes to find the bartender staring at me. I wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there or if he had heard me, butit didn’t matter. After he called me out on being stood up, I had already decided that I was never setting foot in that establishment again.

“You don’t need a boyfriend to do that,” she pointed out.

“The way I’m trying to do it, it would be best if he was my man,” I replied as I watched Ahmad walk over to help another customer.

She laughed. “I feel you. Well, listen, forget tonight. There’s a lot that can happen in eight weeks.”

“Technically seven because my party is on the eighth week.”

“There’s a lot that can happen in seven weeks,” she corrected.

“I haven’t had a boyfriend in almost three years, so the idea of me finding one this summer feels like a bit of a reach.”

“Yeah, but now you’re actually willing to try. All year, all you did was complain that you hate dating and refuse to go out.”

“Idohate dating. And tonight is a perfect example of why.”

“Being stood up sucks, so let’s forget tonight. Go somewhere else and regroup. I already know you look good. Go to a new spot and let the men come to you. This could be a blessing in disguise. Maybe he was a troll and that’s why your coworker didn’t want to show you a picture. Maybe he saw you and left because he knew you were out of his league. Maybe he doesn’t know how to parallel park and couldn’t find a spot. Whatever the case, you look good and you’re already out! I’m proud of you. And I’m glad you’re back. I need you in these streets with me to take some of these men off my hands. So we’ll go out when I get back and we’ll meet some guys. Hell, if all goes well, I’ll get back early enough for us to go out tomorrow night and Sunday night. We could end the weekend right.”

I laughed lightly. “Thanks, Nina. I hope I’m not interrupting your hair appointment. I didn’t text you so you’d call. I just wanted you to know I’d been publicly humiliated. You okay? How’s the hair looking?”

She laughed. “You haven’t been publicly humiliated. No one knows what happened tonight but us. And for all that asshole knows, you didn’t show up for the date either. It’ll be like it never happened.”

“Thank you, girl. I needed that.”

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