Page 3 of Paranormal Love From an Immortal Thug
“So,” Lenora said, taking the center seat and pulling her knees up, “the TokTick girl said to write down what you want in a man. Physically, emotionally, sexually, all of it. Be specific as hell.”
Kadie handed me a notepad and a gel pen. “Go ‘head. Be delusional.”
I sucked my teeth but started writing.
By the time I looked up, they were all watching me with raised eyebrows. “What?” I said.
Chia whistled. “You sure you don’t want to just call an escort?”
Kadie leaned over to peek at the list. “You forgot emotional availability, but this is giving demon dick energy. We approve.”
Lenora passed me the candle. “Read your list out loud while we light this.”
I laughed. “This is giving Love & Hip Hop séance, but okay.”
We lit the candle. I read my list aloud, even the nasty parts. We passed the wine around like it was a sacrament. Kadie poured a salt circle around the table using pink Himalayan salt because she claimed it was more aesthetic. And then Lenora had us chant some Latin phrase she swore was from the Book of Shadows, but I was 99% sure she’d pulled it from a Pinterest post.
“Da mihi virum qui me sustinere potest…”
“Translation?” I asked.
“Bring me the man who can handle me,” she said with a wink.
We repeated it three times. I felt stupid, a little drunk, and surprisingly warm. The candle flickered hard after the last chant, and we all paused.
“I felt that,” Chia whispered.
Kadie squinted. “Y’all got the windows open or something?”
I shook my head slowly. “No.”
For a second, the room felt tight, like the air got thicker and almost humid. The flickering candle turned solid. The light didn’t dance anymore. It stood still like it was listening. We all stared.
Lenora was the first to stand up, stretching like an old lady and grabbing her coat. “Alright, witches. I’m out before we start summoning more than good dick and end up with a poltergeist.”
“Girl, stay for one movie,” Chia said through a yawn. “We bouta order food anyway.”
I glanced up from the Uber Eats app. “Y’all want Chinese or halal?”
Kadie raised a brow. “What time is it?”
“Almost twelve-thirty.”
“Then Chinese. Ain’t no good halal food after midnight in your area.”
“Facts,” Chia agreed.
Forty minutes later, we were gathered on the sectional again, passing around styrofoam containers full of fried rice, chicken teriyaki, salt and pepper shrimp, and lobster sauce. We started grubbing, and of course, I got sauce on my tank top with zero regrets. The Sixth Sense was playing in the background, but none of us were really watching. We were mid-story about Chia’s situationship with the TSA agent who swore he wasn’t toxic but checked her location every time she posted a thirst trap.
“So let me get this straight,” I said, mouth full. “He got a key to your place, but y’all not together?”
Chia rolled her eyes. “He said he’s emotionally monogamous but physically curious.”
“Girl,” Kadie groaned. “If you don’t change the locks and change your life.”
“I know, I know,” Chia mumbled. “That’s why I’m in therapy.”
We cracked up, the room thick with laughter, wine breath, and sisterhood.
