Passion by the Book. Pamela YayeЧитать онлайн книгу.
“Simone, girl, get over here and give me a hug, you pretty heifer!”
Startled by the shrill, high-pitched sound, Simone flinched. Placing a hand on her chest didn’t steady her raging heartbeat, and when Simone saw Tameika Brewster sashaying toward her in all her K-Mart glory, she groaned inwardly. Oh, no, I spoke too soon!
“You haven’t been by the salon in weeks!” Tameika shrieked, her plump lips flared into a pout. “You’re not cheating on me with a rival stylist, are you?”
Simone laughed and shook her head incredulously at the brash Detroit native. Tameika had been her hairstylist for years, and even though she got off on teasing her, Simone considered her a good friend. Her hazel contacts were eye-catching, and so was her tight, leopard-print blouse. “I’ve been too busy to make it to the salon, but I’ll stop in soon,” Simone promised. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the salon doing something crazy to someone’s hair?”
“I came down here to get a gift for Angela. Can you believe her crazy ass created a gift registry for her housewarming party?” Pointing a finger at her chest, she made a loud clicking sound with her teeth. “And you guys like to call me a diva. Ha! I’m not the only high-maintenance one in the group!”
The women laughed.
“I better round up the boys. I still have a few more errands to do today.” Simone was about to return the little pink book to its rightful spot when Tameika ripped it out of her hands. “A Sista’s Guide to Seduction?” Squealing, she tapped an acrylic nail on the glossy, heart-shaped cover. “Oohh, I heard this book was off the chain!”
Shooting her a be-quiet look, Simone retrieved her basket and smiled weakly at the slim, Asian man staring at them. Simone loved Tameika’s zeal, her wild ride-or-die-chick vibe, but she was too damn loud for her own good. It was bad enough she was wearing an attention-grabbing outfit and a whole bottle of perfume, but did she have to talk loud enough for people in the parking lot to hear her, too?
Picking up her basket, which was weighed down with discounted books, magazines and stationery, she moved swiftly toward the beanbag chair Jayden and Jordan were sitting on.
“We discussed A Sista’s Guide to Seduction at the salon just last night, and all the stylists and clients were raving about it!”
Simone slowed, in part to hear what Tameika was about to say and in the hopes that she’d decrease her volume. If there was one thing Simone hated, it was loud, obnoxious people chatting in quiet, confined spaces. The bookstore was not the place for Tameika to let herself go, and Simone prayed to God that her outspoken friend would keep her comments PG.
“You remember Peaches, right? That’s the girl who did your hair when I was getting my boobs done.” She patted her breasts, smiled prouder than a parent whose child was on the honor roll. “Well, Peaches said the book saved her marriage. Said Dwight was acting funny until she implemented the rules and quit waiting on him hand and foot. Now the man practically worships the ground her stilettos walk on.”
Simone drew her eyebrows together. “Really?”
“Uh-huh, and my sister said the same thing. Her baby daddy has been helping out around the house, buying her gifts for no reason and spending more time at home, too.”
“Seriously?”
“For real, sisterfriend. I ain’t kiddin’!” she hollered, flicking her hair over her shoulders.
Closing her eyes, she envisioned Marcus greeting her at the door, kissing her passionately and sweeping her up into his arms. Simone shook the fantasy from her mind. Right, like that would ever happen in this lifetime, she thought, rolling her eyes. Marcus used to put her needs ahead of his own. Used to make time to do the things she wanted. Used to set aside time every day just for her. But over the past year, her needs had taken a backseat to his business, and Simone was sick of being ignored and neglected. Maybe she needed to stir things up a bit. Rock the boat. Remind him of just how spontaneous and fun she was.
“Buy the book, sisterfriend.” Tameika tossed it into Simone’s basket. “You need it.”
Simone shook her head and raised her chin defiantly. “No, I don’t.” Okay, she did, but she didn’t need Ms. Ghetto Fabulous pointing it out. And not in front of the group of women who had gathered around the pink book display.
“Oh, yes, you do,” she countered, swiveling her neck. “You’re forever complaining that Marcus doesn’t pay attention to you, that he’d rather work or hang out with the guys than take you out, that he...”
Ouch. The heat that crawled up her neck burned her cheeks. When did I say all that? Simone wondered, trying to recall the last time she’d been at Glamour Girlz Beauty Salon. She vaguely remembered watching an episode of Millionaire Matchmaker and drinking a couple glasses of merlot while waiting in the reception lounge, but that was about it. Next time, I’ll lay off the wine and keep my big mouth shut.
“Dayum! Super tall, super dark and super handsome at three o’clock.”
“Where?”
Tameika motioned to the café. “Leather jacket. Rolex watch. Kenneth Cole shoes.”
Simone shook her head, stunned at how acute her friend’s eyesight was. Tamieka didn’t miss anything. It didn’t matter if it was a fifty-percent-off sign, a to-die-for man cruising down the street or a crumpled ten-dollar bill underneath a pile of leaves, she found it. The beautician had eyes like a lynx and the fearless personality to match.
“I’m lactose intolerant, but that’s one tall glass of chocolate milk I’d like to taste...”
Simone followed her friend’s gaze. The guy was cute, slim with dark eyes and skin, but he had nothing on Marcus. Not only did her husband have an A+ body; he had lips made for pleasing and a pair of long, slender hands that stroked her just right.
Shivering, she struck the thought from her mind before she got carried away. Back to Tameika’s latest find. The guy looked responsible, smart, like the kind of brother who read the newspaper from front to back. He was just the type of man her wayward friend needed, but before Simone could offer her opinion, Tameika said, “I’m going to go talk to him. You don’t mind, do you, sisterfriend?”
Simone gave her a hearty shove forward. “Take as long as you need.” Hopefully, he’ll keep her occupied long enough for me to grab the boys and escape through the side door.
“I’ll be right back,” Tameika called over her shoulder, switching her wide, bountiful hips. One by one, men of all ages turned and stared. Simone couldn’t blame them. Tameika did more than just flaunt what the good Lord gave her; she put the whole kit and caboodle on display. Her plunging V-neck blouse served up two cups of cleavage, her leggings clung to every curve and her outfit screamed, “Come and get me!” Thick, honey-blond hair flowed over her shoulders, and the more it swayed across her back, the more the men drooled. Tameika Brewster had it going on, and unfortunately for her next victim, she knew it.
Deciding she didn’t need the little pink book and that it was a waste of good money, Simone dropped it in an abandoned shopping cart and slid into line. While she waited, she admired all the young, fashionable women flowing in and out of the store. I haven’t changed my look in years, Simone thought, fingering the ends of her long, black hair. It wouldn’t hurt to do something different, something wild. Coloring it a rich, vibrant hue like burgundy red was sure to catch Marcus’s eye and give her a fresh, modern look. Simone loved the idea of shaking things up, but getting a breast lift was too drastic, and besides, her husband would never go for it.
Another thought sprang in her mind. What in the world am I going to wear to Angela’s party? Just that morning she’d hunted around in her closet for something that looked good and fit right. It turned out to be forty-five minutes of pure torment. Her predilection for sweets had resulted in her gaining fifteen pounds over the summer, but dusting off the treadmill and eliminating junk food from her diet were at the top of her to-do list.
Opening