Slipped:A Love Story Birthed In Chiraq

By: Cece S



O’mega

(xxx)xxx-xxxx

“He thirsty for you, girl. You should call him.”

“I’ll pass.”

I walked off, bag in hand. All the guys turned to me when I walked up.

“O’mega?”

“I think that Silver dress in there would be perfect for you tonight,” he said as he walked to me. “Those burgundy heels a set it off.”

“Tell your woman to put it together for you, then.” I shoved the bag into his hand.

“I don’t have one.” He tried to give it back. “Would you like to go to dinner tonight?”

Opening my clutch, I dug into my money, making sure him and his guys saw each and every big face hundred I had inside. “I’ll pay you for those shoes and that silver dress. The rest you can take back.” I held out money to him.

“Your money, you can take back, and this bag you can take. It’s for you. Happy Valentine’s Day from me to you. You going out with me tonight?”

“What?” The caramel nigga with the bowl cut snatched the bag from me, and O’mega snatched it from him. He put it all the way on my wrist this time.

Everybody laughed. I couldn’t help but to laugh too.

“Come on now, what you get her? I’m your brother, you didn’t get me shit.”

“Move.” He threw a playful punch at him. “I’m sorry for what he just did.”

“It’s cool.” I crossed my hands together and looked at him. “I don’t accept gifts from strangers, though, so...”

Him and his friends found that so funny for some reason.

“Exactly.” I threw all that shit at his feet and walked off.

“Naw, ma,” I heard behind me.

“It ain’t you,” the fat one squealed, sounding like a damn rat. “It ain’t youuuu.”

They were all still laughing.

O’mega caught up with me. “Don’t do me like that.” He bumped me still with his body. At my stomach, he had the bag and the $100 bill again. “What’s wrong with my gifts?” He frowned at his hand. “This some nice shit.” He held the bag out to me. “Is this bill the insulting part?” He ripped it up. “Where your phone at?”

I looked around like I was looking for somebody.

“Please take this.”

I snatched the bag.

“You mad?” He laughed.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m already irritated!”

He threw his hands up. “I ain’t do it.”

“What’s so funny?”

“Me and my brothers not from here, and since we been here, we think Chicago is full of strange mufuckas. That’s all.”

I walked over to his friends. “Y’all from Chicago?”

“No!”

“Hell naw!”

“Y’all here to see y’all ladies?”

“We ain’t got any ladies,” the fat one said. “Call yours.”

“We here on business.” O’mega walked up behind me, his voice all in my ear.

My clumsy ass almost fell off the curb when I tried to turn and face him. O’mega grabbed me. My face landed in his chest.

Beep! Beep! Parked a few cars over from where I am is Lacy and her date.

“Here I come!” I called. My hands were on his arms and chest, my face all the way up on him. Beneath the loud smell, this man smelled delicious. Probably Gucci or Sean John. “Thank you for catching me.”

I tried to look at him, but I couldn’t. He was too fine.

“See you.” I walked around him.

Next thing I knew, O’mega was trying to hug me.

I stopped him.

“Dayuummmmm.” All his boys laughed at him.

“Ooh,” I moaned, realizing I was embarrassing him. “I’m sorry.” I mouthed as I walked. “I just don’t hug people I don’t know.”

“You do know me. I’m O’mega.”

“Bye, O’mega.” I waved.

“I didn’t get your number.”

“Is all of their phones dead?”

The fat one gave him his cell phone and he walked up to me.

“773…”

“Um hum.”

“608...”

“What else?”

“9876.” I left him there. “Stah’si.”

“I’ma call you.” He waved.

When my butt touched the seat, my cousin’s date sped off and she snatched the bag out my hands.

“I know you haven’t fucking been shopping. We pay rent on the same day, Stah’si. It’s three days away, three days away.”

“I know, Lacy...”

“These are everything.” She had a pair of the shoes out the box. The Ballentino booties to be exact. All leather, six inches, and solid black. I love the point at the toe. When she flipped them over to look at the tag, she screamed, “Stop the car! You have to take these back!”

Her goofy ass boyfriend pressed the brakes so hard my head hit the seat in front of me. My cousin even flew to the dash.

“Come on now,” I screamed. “Drive! Just drive! Drive me home.”

“Okayyyyy,” my cousin cracked up. She looked across at her man and he cracked up too. I realized both of their asses were either tipsy or drunk.

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