I'd Rather Be Single Page 2

  “So where do you go to attract them, athletes don’t just hang anywhere?” I asked interrupting her.

  “Okay, going back to what I was saying, niggas love a fly bitch.” She stood up, her hour glass shape was shown through her outfit and she stood directly in front of me. I noticed her and I were shaped similar but my hips were more shapely and my ass was naturally fatter.

  “Look at my outfit,” she said pointing at herself and then she turned and pulled on the end of her long jet black curls. “This is 20 inches of human hair, this isn’t my real hair but I keep the shit looking fresh like it is, my nails are always done and I stay rocking a new bag and some shoes that just hit the shelves. Don’t you get it? Money attracts money. So when they see me at a celebrity party, they seek me out like they are my groupies.”

  “I could never attract one of them; I don’t have money like that. Girl I work as a receptionist at a dental office,” I informed her.

  She sat down closer to me and shook her head. “Girl, you are beautiful, you just don’t know how much power you have between them legs of yours.” She wrinkled her face and thought about what I told her about Rodney’s broke ass. “Too much power to be with a deadbeat, that’s for sure,” she said.

  Rosslyn smiled while checking me out. “I’m going to take you under my wing. I’m going to show you what I did when I first started out. Don’t worry about not having money to fund this lifestyle, I’m gonna put you on.”

  I pulled out my phone to take Rossyln’s phone number. She frowned gazing at my old black flip phone and took it out of my hand. “First things first, let’s get rid of this flip phone; it is 2011, no one rocks flip phones anymore, honey. You have to carry yourself with class; you have to purchase a Blackberry, Android or an iPhone ASAP,” she said holding my phone as if it had the cooties.

  Putting me on was indeed what Rosslyn did. Being as though I never had a mother figure, I kind of looked up to Rosslyn. We were clearly the same age but her life just seemed so much more together than mine. I never had guidance growing up, I just lived day by day, but Rosslyn’s life was structured, she was focused, she knew what she wanted and how she was going to get it. She made sure money stayed in her account and her bills were being paid off some baller’s dime. I almost envied her, she was like the sister that I never had. Her personality was so dominant, she wasn’t flaky nor did she play dumb, she was always up front and spoke her mind. Eventually it rubbed off on me and I became aggressive and outspoken. I always had thick skin because I always had to defend myself from being judged but I was never the one to be confrontational. But now, I said and did what the fuck I wanted to do.

  A month later, I kicked Rodney’s broke ass out and began my path to finding me a rich man. Since I had no funds to purchase the expensive threads that Rosslyn rocked, she taught me how to fake it till I made it. Now, in my hood, they say there ain’t no future in fronting, well, I certainly proved that shit wrong. See when Rosslyn started out, she couldn’t afford none of that expensive shit she rocked either. So she went to the little bodegas in Brooklyn and purchased $50 knock off Louis Vuitton bags and bootleg Gucci shoes and shit. I remembered seeing shops on Blue Hill Avenue in Boston that sold fake shit so I slid in to buy some items on the low and they were almost identical to the authentic bags that Rosslyn rocked. I purchased long synthetic weave instead of expensive human hair and I was on a roll. I bought about five good outfits, Rosslyn told me that they were all that I needed to hit some of the NBA parties that Terry Lamont had coming up in the City and judging from my make over, she knew that it wouldn’t take long to snag me a baller. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, after being with Rodney and struggling to pay the bills, all I thought about was how good the money was going to be, but I didn’t know the cost I would soon pay to live lavish.

  ********

  A long ribbon of people stood outside the popular Opulant night club downtown Boston. The line was filled with groupies with little to no clothes on and men dressed in high fashion clothes who came hoping to scoop up the women who couldn’t land them a baller at the end of the night. Rosslyn led me straight to the front of the line and once she mentioned Terry Lamont’s name they let us in without a fuss. I kept pulling down my black fitted dress because my ass kept making the back rise. Rosslyn kept reminding me that we needed to appear classy not trashy. She said that ballers would only smash trashy women, but the classy women, they would consider not only spending their time with them, but their money as well.

  I can’t front, I felt like a million bucks in my black Bebe dress, I had 18 inches of bone straight jet black hair weave and a fresh cut China doll bang. Rosslyn had made up my face using her Sephora collection and decorated my face Beyonce inspired.

  Rosslyn wore a short light gray form fitting dress that hugged her curves and her long tresses sprung down her back. And although Rosslyn’s gold accessories were actually real gold and mine were plastic, the two of us looked photo shoot ready. We looked like the black girl version of Kim and Kourtney Khardasian.

  I always knew that I was a pretty girl, it was clear when I looked in the mirror, but after growing up the way that I did, I felt ugly on the inside for all of the mistakes that I made so it was hard to keep my self esteem high. Rosslyn was molding me to walk proud and hold my confidence and she often reminded me that I was too pretty to feel ugly.

  “There is Terry over there,” Rosslyn said once she spotted him.

  We walked straight to VIP. Meeting Terry Lamont for the very first time, I tried not to act like a groupie but I was nervous. This was actually the first nightclub that I’ve ever been to never mind my first time being around a celebrity.

  Terry was almost seven feet tall; I categorized him as super tall and lanky but he had a cute baby face. He was dressed in a white button up shirt with black Rocking Republic jeans.

  “Terry this is, Tyra, Tyra, Terry,” Rosslyn said introducing us.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said extending my hand to greet him.

  He disregarded my hand and pulled me in for a hug. I noticed a slight hint of jealousy on Rosslyn’s face, almost a crazed look; but she dismissed it. I didn’t think that Terry was being disrespectful; he was actually being a gentleman. He said that he didn’t believe in shaking a woman’s hand and that women should be greeted with a hug.

  “Come sit down and get something to drink,” he said gesturing for us to sit beside him on the red leather VIP couches. Rosslyn squat down next to Terry and planted a kiss on his lips as I sat down beside her. I don’t know if the kiss was to show me that he was hers or to show the other women who were idling around the velvet VIP ropes, but she kissed him overly affectionate. It was strange because she always talked about how she never got her feelings wrapped up in any of the relationships with these rich men, but judging from that kiss, she coulda fooled me.

  Immediately Terry’s friends flocked around the couch. “Mmm, who is this?” one of his friends asked Terry as he stood in front of me like I was a piece of food and he was hungry because he was drooling.

  Terry introduced us over the loud hip-hop music. Wiz Khalifa’s Black and Yellow song was playing in the background. “Tyra this is my boy, Steven, Steven this is Rossyln’s friend Tyra.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said hoping he could hear me.

  He was tall, dark and handsome and I thought, damn this was easy. He sat down next to me, the Dolce and Gabanna cologne lingered making me even more attracted to him. But when I looked over at Rosslyn, I noticed a sour expression on her face.

  She pulled me over to whisper in my ear. “Girl he plays for the Patriots but he’s undrafted.”

  I scrunched up my face; I had no clue what she meant.

  “Okay, what does that mean?” I asked innocently.

  “That means he didn’t really officially make the team yet, he could either make the practice squad or get cut at any time,” she informed me.

  “So I shouldn’t talk to him?” I asked seeking advice l
ike she was my mom.

  “Girl, if his pockets can’t talk to you, neither can he!” she exclaimed.

  I pouted. “But he’s so cute.”

  “Can ‘cute’ pay your bills?” she asked sternly.

  Steven tapped my shoulder. “So how are you, Miss Tyra?” he asked. His dark brown eyes were so appealing; I wanted to faint into his arms. But Rosslyn was right, being undrafted meant that he could get cut from the NFL at anytime which could leave him jobless. The little money that the undrafted players got would run out quickly and he would have to get a regular job and if I wanted to deal with that I could have just stayed with Rodney until he landed something.

  “I’m doing well but I’m actually not interested,” I told him. I had no problem turning him down; my thick skin came in handy often.

  “Damn,” he replied, shocked at my blunt answer.

  That was the first time I learned how cocky ballers were. They weren’t as persistent as regular dudes who usually still tried to holler once you’ve turned them down. Ballers felt that if you thought you were too good to talk to them knowing that they played in the league then it was your loss. They possessed an extreme sense of cockiness.

  “Okay, well it was nice meeting you,” he said shaking my hand and raising up off the couch as if I just missed out.

  Rosslyn smiled. “Girl please, he better get his short money ass out of here,” she joked. She handed me a glass of Ciroc mixed with cranberry and I was feeling tipsy right away since I wasn’t much of a drinker. I sat back watching everyone having a good time in the crowded club and then peeped the groupies giving the ballers seductive looks, it was quite pathetic. Rosslyn and Terry were grooving to the music on the couch beside me and we were all having fun.

  Terry was very laid back; he wasn’t feeding into the scene. He lounged back on the couch and seemed to enjoy Rosslyn’s company because truth be told; we were the baddest bitches in the building. When the DJ played Trey Songz and Nicki Minaj’s Bottoms up song, Rossyln and I stood up and began to two-step. We smiled and swayed our hips to the rhythm. I totally appreciated Rosslyn’s friendship. I have never had that much fun with a girlfriend ever and it was even more beneficial being in the presence of millionaires.

  A tall gentleman approached me and took my hand gesturing to dance. It wasn’t hard to tell that he was in the NBA because he was just as tall as Terry Lamont. I took my hand away and stepped over to consent with Rosslyn; I knew she knew the scoop on him. He resumed in front of me, bobbing his head to the music and waited for me to finish.

  “Okay, what about him?” I whispered to Rosslyn discretely.

  “Uh uh! No. He’s married. Understand this; I do got rules to this shit. I don’t date them if they are married, I ain’t trying to break up happy homes; only thing I’m trying to break is bread, honey.”

  That was all that she had to tell me. I turned back to the tall married man and said, “No thank you.” I scoped for his wedding band and there it was shimmering on his left ring finger. The nerve of him, I thought. He hunched his shoulders and walked away like it was my loss.

  I was beginning to become annoyed at the losers that approached me so I decided to step away from the couch for a bit.

  “I’ll be back, Rosslyn,” I said after I spotted the red fluorescent bathroom sign toward the back of the packed club.

  I stood and pulled down the bottom of my dress and began to walk through the crowd. I had all the men’s heads turning and I was loving all the attention. I had almost reached the bathroom when I spotted some girls who knew me from the projects; these were the same girls who pegged me as a project hoe and I quickly turned deciding against going to the bathroom. They had their faces screwed up just like old times. Clearly they still carried the same resentment toward me for sleeping with some of their boyfriends as a teen. Instead of using the ladies room, I went to the bar and ordered a shot of patron. Seeing their faces took me back to a place that I tried hard to forget so I tried to drown the memory in the bitter, yet strong shot of patron silver. I took a deep breath and waited for my heart to stop beating as fast as it was; I tried to convince myself that I was a new Tyra and that my past didn’t define me.

  I managed to calm my nerves and began prepping myself to walk through the crowd. I made sure my dress intact and then emerged back toward the VIP section. In mid step a gentlemen tugged on my hand and again, he was over six feet tall so I knew that he was a basketball player.

  “How you doing?” he asked pulling me toward him. I was thinking to myself, Rosslyn was right; these men were definitely groupies for pretty women.

  “I’m good,” I said before indulging in his light brown eyes. He was handsome as shit. He had the deepest dimple in his left cheek and his skin was light brown and flawless. His waves were jet black and matched his dark sharp trimmed sideburns that touched his light goatee.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said gazing into my eyes.

  “Thanks,” I said accepting the compliment.

  Shit I wanted to tell him how handsome I thought he was too. Then I snapped back into reality. Rosslyn wasn’t around to give me the scoop on him but honestly, I really didn’t care. He was too cute to let go and besides, his ring finger was bare.

  “I’m actually about to get out of here, but when I saw you walk by I didn’t want to leave without at least exchanging numbers,” he said trying to talk over the loud music.

  I was quickly distracted as I felt my phone vibrate in my purse. I scurried inside my small black clutch to pull it out. It was Rosslyn texting to see where I was.

  “What? I couldn’t hear what you said,” I asked him after I quickly text Rosslyn back to tell her I was making my way back over to her.

  He boldly took my new blackberry out of my hand and dialed his number. He reached in his jean pocket for his phone to see if it rung and when it did, he pressed the end button on my phone. “Okay, there. Now I got your number and you got mine,” he said handing me my phone back and kissing me on the cheek, “I’ll call you tomorrow, beautiful.”

  I just stood there for a second, what the fuck just happened? I wondered. He dialed his phone number from my phone and he now had my phone number without my consent, where the fuck they do that at? I didn’t even get his name. But I was feeling too tipsy to sit there and continue to ponder on what just happened.

  “Girl where were you?” Rosslyn asked as I crept back in VIP.

  “I was going to the bathroom but got a shot instead,” I said sitting beside her.

  “Uh uh, girl, all this money in the building; don’t ever buy your own drink,” she said disgusted.

  “Girl, trust me, I needed one at the moment,” I explained while looking into the crowd hoping that the old project neighborhood girls weren’t around.

  “Well you see him right there?” Rosslyn said pointing to a semi-handsome muscular dude who had on a platinum chain with a diamond cross standing in our VIP area.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “He’s the starting quarterback for the Patriots, he’s good money. He came over here to greet Terry and I told him that I had a friend that I wanted him to meet.”

  “Rosslynnn?” I whined tapping her on the shoulder. I was embarrassed that she tried to blindly hook me up.

  “Girl, please, you need to have him on deck,” she insisted.

  Once the muscular hard bodied football player turned and saw the both of us looking at him, I shifted on the couch to look in another direction out of sheer embarrassment. He cut his conversation short with the gentlemen he was speaking with and headed our way taking a seat next to me.

  “How you doing, Ma?” he asked.

  Judging from his accent, and his swag, it was clear that he was from New York. He had on a white Polo shirt with a Yankee fitted hat and white and blue Gucci sneakers.

  “I’m good. How are you?” I asked.

  “I’m doing well now,” he said exploring me with his eyes.

  Rosslyn was showing grins of approval as she play
ed with the straw in her glass of ciroc with her lips.

  “Your girl is trying to play match maker over there,” he said, gesturing to Rosslyn.

  “Do you think she made a match?” I asked trying to be flirty.

  He rubbed his hands together and licked his thick lips. “I mean shorty you fly as shit, I definitely would like to get to know you.”

  “I’d like that too,” I said with a smile.

  “My name is Teddy Pento. What’s yours?” he asked.

  “I’m Tyra,” I said meeting his handshake halfway.

  “Alright, Miss Tyra, put my number in your phone,” he ordered confidently.

  I entered his digits into my blackberry and he did the same and then he gave me a snug hug before walking off.

  Rosslyn and I left the club shortly after, we felt like we executed the plan of finding me a baller. Rosslyn left with Terry and I drove myself home.

  When I got home, I wrapped up my hair and tied my pink silk scarf into a bold knot. I then scuffled through my bathroom linen cabinet to find my lemon scented febreze because it still seemed like I wasn’t able to kill the cigarette smell in the house ever since Rodney moved out. Suddenly my phone began to vibrate on the bathroom sink and I placed the febreze can down to see who it was.

  It was a text from Teddy with a picture attached. I squint my eyes to get a better look once I opened it. This nigga had the nerve to send a picture of himself taken with his phone in front of a mirror with his shirt off.

  “Thinking about how beautiful you looked tonight, send me a pic back,” he wrote in the message. I glanced at myself in my oval bathroom mirror, my hair scarf was on and I had already washed off my make up. Then I remembered what Rosslyn said about leaving the athlete intrigued and not doing too much too soon.