Wives, Fiancées, and Side-Chicks of Hotlanta Read online

  Looking around at mistake number one, AKA her apartment, Sasha didn’t even know if she could trust herself, let alone get her mother to trust her. She made a mental note to exaggerate the beauty and size of the apartment once she called her mother to check in.

  “A thousand dollars a month for this little ole piece of place?” Sasha questioned, standing there with her suitcase at her feet, purse swinging from her arm and a cardboard box in her other arm.

  She walked over to the tiny kitchen where, if two people wanted to share cooking duties, they’d be all on top of each other trying to maneuver. Perhaps Sasha could overlook that, considering she was one person and didn’t plan on having any roommates. It was a one-bedroom apartment and nobody was sleeping on her couch—that is, once she purchased one.

  Taking in the smell that permeated the place of the new beige carpet, Sasha walked back through the living room to the first door on the right. It was a half bath, toilet and sink. Nothing really to complain about there. Had she been the one to design it, she would have chosen a sturdier cabinet base for the sink. “Did they find the cheapest cabinet Home Depot stocks?” She opened the cabinet door and then let it slam shut. She looked down and refused to voice her concerns about the cheap floor tile that was bubbling up and had glue capped up around some of the edges.

  “I should have kept my black tail in Ohio,” Sasha mumbled to herself. She quickly rebuked her own words. That’s probably exactly what all the nay-sayers would want her to do, fail. Yeah, people smiled in her face, complimented her on her fashion sense, and some probably genuinely wanted her to do well . . . just not better than them. Well, Sasha would do better.

  “You’ll be back. You’re too stuck up for the A,” one of Sasha’s so-called friends had told her after Sasha shared the news about her pending move to Atlanta. “Besides, you all bougie and you going down there where there ain’t nothing but black folks.” She shook her head adamantly and shooed her hand. “You’ll never make it there. You’ll be running back home to be with all your friends, because I don’t see you making any new ones down there. You’ll never fit in.”

  Sasha pushed her reserve button two seconds before she reached for ol’ girl’s cheap red-and-blond weave and pulled her close to her face. She’d wanted her to be able to at least read her lips just in case she didn’t hear her clearly when she gave her the read of her life. But instead, she ran on the remaining fumes of dignity she had in her system and simply smiled, batted her eyes, and said sarcastically, “Thank you so much for the vote of confidence.” Needless to say, that heifer didn’t get an invite to the going away party.

  Although her friend’s words were meant to discourage Sasha, they had only encouraged her that much more. If only her critics knew that they were the fuel motivating Sasha. Failing in Atlanta and going back to Ohio was not going to happen. It was not an option. She was Sasha Renea Wellington, a woman with a plan to make it in the ATL, so that is exactly what she was going to do, no matter what it took. Once Sasha made her mind up and put the period at the end of the sentence, that was it. Nothing else needed to be said. She could show a person she was about her business better than she could tell them.

  Sasha had been saving up every dime she’d earned since graduating high school to make this kind of move. She’d worked as a waitress at every restaurant she could while at the same time attending college. She’d even worked in a bookstore and at a call center. She got a headache every time she thought about how much money she owed in student loans for her four years of higher education. But those were all deferred for now. By the time Sasha would have to start making payments, she planned on being the owner of one of the hottest boutiques in Atlanta. That meant she had one year to achieve such, or get an extension on her deferral.

  Closing the bathroom door behind her, Sasha walked into the room right across the hall from the bathroom, which was the only other room left in the apartment. As she looked around the bedroom, all she could do was shake her head. “This isn’t any bigger than the bathroom.” She allowed her head to fall back. Her spirits were darkening by the second, but trying to stay positive, she lifted her head, thankful that at least she had a private attached bathroom. She walked over to one of two doors in the room and opened it. It was a closet. It could only be considered a walk-in closet if a burglar broke into her apartment and she had to walk in it to hide.

  She took a deep breath. Stay positive, Sasha. She opened the other door that led to her private bath. A toilet, a sink, and a shower. Not even a linen closet, but a floor-to-ceiling shelf instead to store her things. It was small. She felt like Snow White invading the seven dwarves’ spot. But she could take the small space. Again, it was just her, but what she couldn’t take was the fact that there was no bathtub. That had always been Sasha’s thing, her way of winding down. A bubble bath and, on rare occasions, a bottle of bubbly. No yoga. No Whoosah. No meditation. She’d tried it all and only one thing put her in a good place after a bad day. “No tub!” This was the deal breaker. “Oh, hell to the no!”

  “I can’t do this,” Sasha told herself. Realizing that can’t was not supposed to be a part of her vocabulary, she took her own words back. “You can and you will.” She paused. “But how?” she asked herself, trying to hold in her tears. How in the world was she going to make this work? She didn’t know, but she knew someone who might. Her one true friend and confidante who had been her biggest cheerleader from day one.

  Sasha pulled out her phone and dialed. She placed the phone to her ear while the phone rang. It barely rang once before the person on the other end picked up.

  “Didn’t I tell you to call me as soon as you got there? What took you so long? You had me scared to death! It wasn’t nothing but a, what, nine-hour drive or so? It’s been ten hours? You know I’m an ID Channel addict.”

  “Ma, please just relax,” Sasha said, now wondering if calling her mother had been such a good idea after all. She wanted her mother to help calm her down and give her some advice on her current situation. Instead, it looked as though her mother was the one who needed calming down. “Why didn’t you just call me if you were that worried?”

  “I dialed your number so much I broke a nail,” her mother admitted.

  “I didn’t hear my phone ringing.”

  “That’s because I always hung up once I got to the last number.” Her mother exhaled. “You’re my baby and you always will be, but you’re not that little girl who I always had to guide. You’re a grown woman now, Sasha, and with you being halfway across the world now, it’s fine time I start treating you like one.”

  “Ma, I’m not halfway across the world. I’m still right here in the United States of America.” Sasha shook her head at her mother’s exaggeration.

  “You know what I meant,” her mother said in a scolding tone. “Anyway, I raised you to be strong and independent. I have to trust my job as a mother and believe that you’ve got this. You don’t need me always telling you what to do. I’ve taught you well. You can figure things out on your own.” Her mother exhaled. “And I sure am glad that you figured out how to get to Atlanta on your own. And that you are safe and sound.” Her mother paused and then said in a worried tone, “You are safe and sound, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Ma,” Sasha said. A smile spread across her lips. Her mother was something else. She always had a way of soothing Sasha, even when she didn’t know that was exactly what she was doing.

  Sasha’s felt that her mother was right; she was on her own now. She couldn’t call her mother up every time she had a problem or had a situation. Well, she could, but she didn’t want to. It was fine time she started handling everything in her life herself, especially the little things. She’d start with handling the tub situation.

  “I am safe and sound,” Sasha told her mother. “And that’s all I was calling to let you know.” Sasha smiled, happy with her decision not to burden her mother with the first thing gone wrong. “I’m going to call you later, once I’m settled and everything
.”

  “Okay, baby. I love you!” Sasha’s mother exclaimed. “And I’m so proud of you. I know I gave you hell about moving away, but that was for my own selfish reasons. It’s been me and you since I can remember.”

  Sasha heard her mother’s voice break. She then heard her take a deep swallow and clear her throat before she spoke again.

  “But like I said, you got this.”

  Sasha nodded while wiping away a tear that had formed in her eye. The confidence her mother had in her was so moving. “Yeah, Ma, I know. I got this. I love you. Good-bye.” Sasha ended the call. She had to take a deep breath and gain her composure. She stared ahead replaying her mother’s words in her head. “Yeah, I got this.”

  Sasha exited the bathroom, stormed out of the bedroom and back into the living room. She snatched up her purse and walked right out of the door intent on heading over to the rental office she’d just left ten minutes ago after signing the lease. The only reason the manager hadn’t come to let Sasha into the place himself was because a prospective resident was there wanting to be shown an available apartment. It was a mother with three kids. She had one in a stroller, one on her hip, and one running around the office getting on both Sasha’s and the manager’s nerves.

  For fear the manager might ask the woman and her children to tag along to the walk-through, Sasha did the nice thing by showing herself to her own place while the manager took care of the woman. Besides, she’d taken a virtual tour of the place back when she first found it online. She knew what to expect and assured the manager if she found any issues and things that might need tending to, she would take pictures and let him know. Nothing needed fixing, but she had an issue that definitely needed tending to: no bathtub.

  After Sasha locked up the apartment door, she abruptly turned around.

  “Uhhgg!” Sasha said as she smashed against the chest of a gentleman who was walking up near her.

  She pulled away to see the print of her lipstick on his crisp, white tee shirt. The groceries in the two brown paper bags he’d been carrying had fallen to the ground, canned goods and a spaghetti jar just rolling around.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Sasha apologized. She covered her mouth, licking her lips to make sure she didn’t taste blood. She’d slammed into him pretty hard. Fortunately, though, she hadn’t cut her lip or anything.

  “It’s okay,” the tall, well-built gentleman said. He wasn’t a bad looking guy by far. He had smooth, golden, clear skin, a nice shaven goatee, and he smelled damn good.

  All of this hunk of man didn’t make Sasha pause at all, though. She was on a mission. Her mission never had and didn’t now include a man. The only thing she was interested in was apologizing, hopefully him accepting, and then going to do what she’d set out to do before the bodily collision.

  “It’s all good,” the nice looking brotha said. He looked down at his groceries. “It doesn’t look like anything broke or busted open.”

  “Sorry about your shirt.” Sasha pointed to her lipstick print on his tee shirt.

  Sasha saw him look down and pull at his shirt.

  “Oh, damn.” A look of terror appeared on his face. “Fuck!”

  Why he was tripping so hard over some lipstick, Sasha had no idea. But she figured it must have been pretty major when she saw sweat beads start to form on his head. Was it really that serious? Sasha carried some Shout wipes in her purse she could use to get rid of the stain almost instantly if it was that big of a deal.

  She gave him the once-over and thought, This big negro better not try to hustle me out of some dry-cleaning money. She was the new girl in a new city, but she was no fool. No one was about to take advantage of her.

  Just then Sasha saw the door across the hall fling open.

  “What the hell is going on out here?”

  Sasha observed the woman who stood in the doorway with hands on hips and foot tapping. She wore a pink wife-beater with denim cut-off shorts. Had it not been for all the fringe at the bottom of her shorts, her coochie hairs might have been showing. She had a tropical look to her, like she might have been mixed with something. Her skin was not a natural bronze. Sasha figured the woman’s complexion was aided by either weekly suntan sessions or a tan in a bottle.

  Her dark hair was in two high ponytails. Her extra-long fake eyelashes fluttered so much, Sasha wondered if the girl had something in her eyes she was trying to blink out. The pink lip gloss on her lips matched the color of her shirt. As far as Sasha was concerned, all she was missing was big hoop earrings and a lollypop. Stereotypical ’round the way girl.

  “Oh, babe, this is . . .” the man had started, fear prevalent in the way he began to stutter at just the sight of this chick. He looked to Sasha, urging her—no, pleading with her—to help him out.

  Sasha obliged. Seeing a big dude like himself act like he was Tina and his girl was Ike was embarrassing even for Sasha. She hated to see a man emasculated. “I’m Sasha.” She extended her hand to the woman. “I’m your new neigh—”

  “Well, Sasha, I’m his woman.” The girl pointed to her man, completely cutting Sasha off. That’s when the girl’s eyes bulged. “What the fuck?” She yoked the dude up by his shirt. “What’s this shit?” She pointed to the lipstick.

  “It’s, uh—”

  Before the poor fella could even get the words out of his mouth, Sasha flinched as she watched his girl slap him in the mouth.

  “I knew your ass didn’t really need to go to no goddamn store,” the ’round the way girl spat. “Who was it this time? Shelia? Wait, let me guess, it was that freak Monique who works at the store, wasn’t it?”

  “Kels, you tripping,” he spoke up. “I told you there is nobody else.”

  Sasha figured this was not his first time at the rodeo based on how exasperated he sounded in making his claim.

  Sasha had heard that in Atlanta there were ten women for every one guy. It looked as though Kels was constantly accusing him of cheating with the other nine allotted to him.

  “Nigga, you take me for a fool or something?” Kels spat.

  It was at that moment Sasha determined that whatever Kels was mixed with, it must have been black. Only black folks were allowed to say the N-word . . . right?

  Sasha couldn’t stand there and watch the poor guy get beat up, literally, for something that she was to blame for. She had to speak up and tell Kels what had actually happened. It wasn’t Shelia’s or Monique’s lipstick. It was hers.

  Sasha flinched once again when she heard a loud whopping sound.

  Once again, Kels slapped her dude, this time on his arm. It sounded like it stung. Sasha grabbed her cheek just thinking how it might feel to have Kels’s hand connect with her face. That’s when she decided now was not the time to confess that it was her lipstick on his shirt. Something told Sasha that Kels was not one to reason with, which could make things go left really quickly, causing Sasha to have to show her butt. But was there ever really a time to act out of pocket? All a person ever ended up doing was embarrassing herself. Sasha wore a lot of things well, but embarrassment was not one of them. Self-control was a characteristic Sasha was glad she possessed. Besides, if Kels could whoop her dude, she might break Sasha’s size-six self in half.

  Sasha knew when she might end up getting the short end of the stick in a fight. Her momma ain’t raised no fool. The last thing she needed was to show up at the temp service looking like she’d been initiated into a gang. So Sasha used wisdom. While Kels continued going off on her man, mugging him in the forehead with her index finger and him trying to get a word in edgewise to continue trying to convince her that he was faithful to her, Sasha tiptoed out of the building and marched over to the rental office.

  If this is how they got down in the ATL and that is what she had to look forward to as far as neighbors, Sasha wanted no part of this place, whether it had a tub or not. Of course her apartment not having the tub that was advertised would be her only legitimate grounds at this point to get out of the lease. She racked
her brain trying to recall whether or not in the virtual tour it showed a bathtub. It had to have, which meant they had falsely advertised the apartment. That alone gave her legal grounds to break that lease without even spending one night in the place.

  Sasha approached the rental office and went to open the door. Unlike the first time she’d turned the knob, entered the office, and introduced herself to the manager, this time the door was locked. She cupped her hands around her face, pressed them against the glass door and looked inside. It was dark. She pulled away. That’s when she noticed the sign that read, “WILL RETURN IN 15 MINUTES.”

  “Ugghh,” Sasha groaned. “This is some bull . . .” Her words trailed off as she tried to get herself together. She rubbed her throbbing temples. She’d stomped so hard over to the rental office that the arches of her feet were throbbing as well. Ironically, she could really use a nice, hot bubble bath right about now.

  Sasha allowed her arms to drop weightlessly down to her sides. She leaned against the rental office door and sighed. Realizing the manager was more than likely still showing the woman and her children around the property, she went and sat on one of the three plastic chairs on the rental office’s mini awning-covered patio. She pulled out her phone. She wanted to have proof positive about the false advertisement when the manager returned, so she decided to pull up the website for the apartment. It was stored as a favorite link, so she was able to go right to it. She clicked through the pictures. After getting to picture nine of eleven, she squirmed a little in her seat. She hadn’t yet come across the picture showing that the one-bedroom apartment had a bathtub.

  “That can’t be right,” she said to herself. “I would have never even considered this place if it didn’t have a bathtub.” Sasha had looked at so many apartments online, was it possible she’d gotten mixed up?