Page 30 of Hellcat Barbies: Imani
“I don’t know. I never heard her say anything about it. Why?”
“Her ride and the tires.”
We are about to have Sunday dinner with his family. When he asked, I didn’t hesitate to say yes. After Friday night, the race, breakfast, and some fye ass sex, I’ll say yes to anything he asks, anything. He brought back an important missing piece from my life and I adore him for that so dinner with his cousins is light work.
He kills the engine then we get out. He grabs the sweet potato pound cake from the backseat before we walk to the door. I was raised to never go to someone’s house empty handed so I had him stop at this cute bakery in town, Seasonal Sweets. It’s fall and they had so many autumn theme desserts. I sampled the sweet potato pound cake and was instantly sold. It’s so sweet, rich, delicious and moist. I’m pretty sure someone’s Big Momma has to be in that kitchen baking.
When he reaches to ring the doorbell, the door opens and a pretty sistah with long, sandy brown and black boho braids down to her waist is standing here smiling.
“You didn’t even let me ring the damn bell, Presha,” he says.
“Hush, I saw you on the camera,” she says to him dismissively before looking at me, all smiles. “Imani, I’m glad you came. I’m Presha, Dodge’s wife.”
“Let the people in, love,” a deep, husky voice booms from behind.
“And that loud but loving voice belongs to my husband. Come in.”
Her eyes playfully roll as she steps back to allow us into their beautiful home. Daymir motions for me to walk in first so I do and he follows. As he walks in, a man who I assume is Dodge approaches. His height and size mirrors Daymir. They also have the same nose and eyes but Daymir’s complexion is a rich, deep chocolate and Dodge’s is more latte.
When we are both inside the foyer, Presha hugs me. Dodge does next then smiles. He turns to Daymir and his smile morphs into a smirk.
“Ok. Corn bread with a little dressing,” he says and Daymir shakes his head while smiling.
“I know that pink box. Seasonal Sweets?” Presha asks.
“Yes, and it’s a delicious sweet potato pound cake,” I tell her.
“Oh, thank you, girl,” she says before looking at Dodge. “Baby, take him to the kitchen and put that on the counter.” She takes me by the hand then says, “Let’s leave them. Hazel is here, waiting to meet you.”
“You have a beautiful home,” I compliment as we walk through it.
“Thank you. We built it last year and just moved in six months ago. I still need to add a few more touches but I love it.”
She leads me pass a large living room furnished with those new cloth oversized sofas and loveseats. The colors are beige and a light, light blue. We pass a dining room, bedroom, and bath before bending the corner and walking into an entertainment room.
Just like the other spacious rooms in the home, this entertainment room is massive. There are two brown leather sectionals, a bar, a pool table, two old school arcade games, a digital juke box, and theater size TV on the wall. A tall beautiful sister is standing at the bar. When we walk in, she turns and looks my way.
“Okay, Locs! I love your hair,” she says as she walks over to us. She has a cute, curly mohawk cut with one side shaved and I love it. “I’m Hazel and I work with Daymir. I’ve been wanting to meet the lady that has his mean ass smiling,” she says with a smirk.
“I don’t know about all of that but I’m Imani. Nice to meet you.”
“Well, I do. You cured our grumpy gansta,” she says and both her and Presha laugh. “You drink?” she asks.
“I do.”
“Good cause we do too,” Presha says. “Hazel is our self-proclaimed bartender. She’s a beast with it and heavy handed.”
“Bitch, I drink to feel tipsy not to look cute.”
“This drink looks cutesy,” I comment on the drink in her hand.
“Don’t let the fruit slices fool you. It’s my Sinful Sangria with bourbon, red wine, a little pomegranate juice, apple and orange slices, and star anise,” Hazel says.
“It’s good too,” Presha co-signs.
Hazel walks to the bar and we follow. After she pours me and Presha a drink, we journey to the sectional to talk. Our conversation is comfortable, easy, and hilarious. They both are a trip in their own way but they are both right about this Sangria. It’s good with a helluva kick. I feel a buzz off this one glass.
“I saw your ride out there,” I tell Hazel.
