A Project Chick (28 page)

On top, she had on a gray, black and red Calvin Klein T-shirt that she had tied in a knot in the back exposing her flat stomach. She pulled her long ponytail through the buckle on the back of her baseball cap. She couldn't dare leave the house without her lip-gloss neatly painted onto her lips. She threw on some black Reeboks and grabbed her bag to play taxi to her dear friend.

While out, she swung by the barbershop to pick up the boys, they had been hanging out with Gator getting a haircut. He told Tressa to come by later to get them. She was hoping they were ready when she pulled up in front of the shop and blew the horn, but Gator signaled for her to come in. Gator's barbershop was a nice, modern looking barbershop. Just about everything in the spacious barbershop was black. The chairs and counters were black, and the mirror frames were outlined with black and gold.

The back of the shop looked like a bachelor's pad equipped 187

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with a small refrigerator, a black leather sofa and a big screen television.

Tressa always felt so uncomfortable sitting in the barbershop, and especially in her "scrub the floor and toilet" clothes. There was always a bunch of men and she didn't fit in. Most of the guys there she knew, but there was a few she didn't know. There was one particular dude that was sitting over in the corner. He was quiet and the average person would not have noticed but being as attentive as Tressa always had to be, she noticed everything. He especially caught her attention when her son, Ali walked over there to talk to the man, and to her surprise, hyper, energetic with ants in his pants Ali, was listening to him! Being the overprotective mother she was, she called over to Ali. "Ali come here." When Ali dropped his head and walked slowly over to her, she scolded him. "Baby, you know you don't talk to strangers."

"Mommy, he's my friend. He's funny and he helped me draw this picture for you." It was a picture of some flowers. "Hadji was crying when Uncle Gator threw away the flowers we got for you."

She smiled as she looked at the picture. "Ohhh, isn't this beautiful!"

"Yeah, mommy we made it just for you." Ali excitedly said. He was obviously happy that his mother loved the picture they both drew for her.

Gator spoke up while holding the clippers in his hand. "Before you jump to any conclusions, I let them go outside since you keep them exiled from the world." Gator continued as he talked with his hands. "When they were outside, they picked you some flowers. Hadji knocked them on the floor, and the flowers fell apart and I threw them away by mistake. It started raining and I couldn't let him go outside to pick anymore. Hadji threw a tantrum since he wouldn't have the flowers for you when you came. My man Indie calmed him down and helped them draw flowers for you instead."

Tressa gazed at Indie, there was no doubt that he was fine. He had an exotic looking, reddish bronze complexion with high cheekbones. He had a razor sharp chin and a beautiful perfectly shaped nose with a 188

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protrusion in the middle. Although he was sitting down, she could tell that he stood well over six feet. He was slim but with a nice build. His coal black hair was cut close, but the curls were still present. He wore blue jeans, a gray T-shirt and moccasin style shoes. The moccasin shoes he had on threw her off. She didn't care if they were by Polo, they were still moccasins!

He was so handsome and sexy to her that she could have ran over and tongue kissed him. The strangest thing was, as good as he looked to her, he managed to turn her off at the same time. She was certain that he'd be more of a headache than he was worth. Shoot, as fine as he was, she was convinced he had women lined up as long as the free cheese line.

She put on the boys' little windbreaker Nautica jackets and left the shop. Once she was outside, Indie ran out behind her. "Excuse me, miss, you forgot your flowers." He extended his hand to her holding the two pictures with a big Joker smile covering his face, as she walked to meet him halfway to get the pictures.

"Thank you for helping out with my sons. I know they can be a handful at times."

"No problem at all. I like those little dudes." He looked her up and down, and spoke bluntly in his soft voice. "I'd like to take you out." The last part of the comment caught her off guard.

This dagonne moccasin wearing clown think I am
going to go out with him. That's a joke
, she thought, as she looked him up and down.
And he's so sure of himself!

Before she could say no, he cut in. "Look, I see you are a little uncomfortable going out with a stranger and that's OK. Well, at least let me call you then." He looked into her eyes in an aggressive, take control way. When their eyes met, she couldn't refuse his sexy, deep, dark brown eyes. If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn his eyes were black. In the past year, it had never been hard at all for her to reject any man.

She had determined in her mind that they were all full of it.

She wanted to cut Indie down, but somehow she couldn't be as bitter as she had been over the past twelve months.

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"OK. I'm ready for your number." Indie aggressively said in his soft, sexy voice.

"I don't have a pen to write it down."

"Baby, I don't need you to write it down. I can put it up here." Indie responded, by pointing to his forehead but referring to his mind.

She was caught off guard, so she had no choice but to ramble off her number to him.

A week later, Missy and Tressa were up late in Tressa's kitchen eating some Alaskan king crab legs when Tressa's pager went off. She didn't recognize the code 101

behind the number. She called it back.

A man's voice answered. "Peace."

"Hi, did someone call Tressa from this number?"

"Yes, Ms. Tressa, it's Indie.

"Oh, how you doing?"

"I am blessed."

"Likewise." Tressa said.

Missy asked Tressa with a look. "Who is that?" Tressa covered up the phone. "The clown from the barbershop."

Tressa heard a loud noise and could tell something was going on in the background. So, she asked. "What's that loud noise?"

"The game is on."

"What game?"

"The Wildcats verses the Sooners."

Just then Tressa remembered that the game had been on earlier that day, but she didn't mention it. Instead she only made small talk. "Who's winning?"

"The Sooners are up 15 points."

"OK, who you going for?"

"The Sooners, they are my team."

"I'm telling you the Wildcats are going to win." Tressa said. He took it as a general accusation, but he knew the Sooners were going to win.

"No, they are not. Too bad you don't bet." Indie said.

"No, too bad you're going to lose the bet, baby.

"I wouldn't bet you anyway."

"Why?" Tressa wanted to know. Still not really feeling him, but since she was only killing time, she figured she would just play along with him.

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"Because I could never take anything from you.

You're a lady and I don't take away from women's lives, I only add to them." Indie said cockily.

Just then he got another call on his other line.

"Hold on baby." He said, as he clicked over to answer the other call.

Tressa covered the phone and spoke to Missy. "Girl, don't you know this clown got the nerve to try to bet me on a game that I already know the outcome of."

"Really?" Missy said. "All I say is go ahead and make the sucker into what he is, a clown!" They both burst into laughter as Indie came back to the phone. Tressa had the perfect trick for this clown.

"Sugar, I'm back."

"Wait a minute, where did you get the name Sugar from?" She wondered how exactly did he know about her childhood nickname that her brother had called her since she was born, "Sugar Gal".

"Sugar? Because Sugar is the sweetest thing I know, and it seems like under all that hardness and bitterness, you may be the sweetest thing that I have met in a long time."

"Oh, that is very 'sweet' of you to say. The reason I asked is, because that's my childhood nickname that my brother gave me and still calls me by to this day."

"Swoosh." Indie said in excitement. "Damn, that nigga just dunked, no, he slam dunked the ball." Speaking back into the phone. "Sugar, you still up for the bet? I know you don't want to bet.

"Look, I have always believed in the underdog." Tressa assured Indie.

"Me too, but I am betting on my team."

"So, I am rolling with the Wildcats, we are down two touchdowns right?" Tressa asked playing dumb.

"No, Sugar. This is basketball, not football. Ya'll down about 7 baskets."

"Oh, OK. I got it now. So, yes we can bet."

"OK, what do you want to bet? You are clear, that the Sooners are up 15 points, and the second half is about to start now, right?"

"Yes, now it's on you, what do you want to bet." Tressa put the pressure on him.

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"Umm, let me think. I don't want it to be any money. So, if I win, then you go out on a date with me."

"And if I win?" Tressa asked.

"If you win, which your chances are slim to none, but if you win, you just call it, tell me what you want." He easily said.

Without any hesitation, she said "A day's work of hard labor. Since you are a 'Pretty Boy Floyd' type of guy, I know you're not normally required to put in a hard day's work."

"It's a bet." He smiled, laughing to himself, all the while contemplating how he was going to sweep up too tight, need to be screwed real good, Ms. Tressa off of her feet.

They hung up and Missy turned the channel onto the game. At Mr. Moccasin wearing Indie's expense, they were going to have some fun. The Wildcats had come back within four points. "Let's call him and rub it in his face." He answered the phone. "Hello."

"Yeah, your Sooners are soon to lose if we score another touchdown."

He laughed. "This is basketball Sugar, and you ain't out of the woods yet."

"I just thought I'd let you know that we have come back within four, so go ahead and pull the work truck out of the garage because the labor is calling you Boo!" When Tressa was walking Missy to the door, they continued to get their laugh on about how they had just clowned Indie and this was only the beginning. Once the phone rang, they gave each other high fives and Tressa let Missy out before catching the telephone. It was Indie calling.

"Ok, they scored and won by a touchdown, so what do I have to do to pay off my bet?" Indie said laughing.

"No, no, no city slicker, we won by 3 baskets and a free throw, not a touchdown. Sweetheart, this is basketball." She said in an extra proper speaking voice.

"Well, I need to know when and where I need to report for my hard day's work."

"I'll let you know in a couple of days. I want you to sweat since you tried to take advantage of a sweet innocent girl like me."

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"That's cool, but for some reason, I feel like I'm the one that's going to get taken advantage of." Four days passed and Tressa made the call that Indie had been waiting on. He didn't care what Tressa had planned, help her hang pictures, change her furniture around, etc. Shit, he would have even been willing to plant a garden for her. As long as it meant he could spend time with her, he would do it. He just wanted to get to know her.

She instructed him to meet her at the mall at noon.

And he did as he was told. His first thought was she wanted him to take her shopping, but money wasn't an issue. Too bad she didn't know that he was the cash cow, the money bag, the slot machine, the lottery, her voucher to the next level, her way out financially, mentally and physically. The saying, no book can be judged by its cover is a clearly proven fact when one looks at Indie. It was sad to say that he was her Prince Charming and she may not realize it until it is too late.

When they met up, the first thing she looked at was his shoes,
dang, seems like he got all colors of those
Timberland moccasin styled shoes. The other day, he had on
the brown ones, now today, he got on the blue ones. I told
this clown hard labor, not fishing with those dock shoes on.

Tressa didn't even bother to dress up for him because she didn't think anything of him or consider it a date. She just slipped on some tight Guess Stretch jeans and a 2pac T-shirt with some Air max Nikes on. She had her micro braids in a ponytail resting in the middle of the back of her head. It was obvious she wasn't dressed for a date.