Roster Part II

1 year later…

“If we move the buffet to this wall, the space will open up. The rest of the design doesn’t need adjustments, but I think that small change will give you a little more room and make the flow better. If people line up on both sides here, there is less obstruction from the rest of the reception,” I explained to Rae and her entourage of her mother, sister, best friend, and future mother-in-law.

“Oh Naomi, that’s a wonderful idea! You are right…it does open up the space better!”

Compared to some of the other brides I’ve worked with, Rae was so easygoing. A lot of brides were concerned about the aesthetics of the wedding, what the pictures would look like, what their guests would think, and what the court of public opinion would decide. Which of course mattered, but not more than the purpose of the wedding, for two people to pledge their lives to each other.

I loved brides like Rae who left the details to the wedding coordinator and focused on the big picture. The wedding I was helping to coordinate this weekend was the complete opposite. In the hour I’d been at the reception venue with Rae and her support system, Sienna called me four times. No matter how many times I told her I had other clients or that calling me multiple times was not necessary, she still did. Her wedding was more for show than love and I was not looking forward to it all.

I was chit-chatting with Rae’s mom about the seating chart. In addition to marrying off her youngest child, she was also plotting to put single people together in the hopes of creating a love match. Rae cared nothing about the people her mama was trying to hook up. She was smiling into her phone, and I imagined she and Derrick were having a private, sexy conversation. It reminded me of my dismal love life. I missed having someone to love. Even though the relationship with Tez was toxic with a capital T, I did miss the moments of companionship, having someone to come home to, to cater to, to love.

An event coordinator with an affinity for weddings was a difficult job for someone who desperately craved love.

After leaving Tez, I searched for jobs, never liking anything that kept me chained to an office. I knew my brother was doing well for himself, but I never imagined he was doing well enough for me to have a basement apartment in his home. We didn’t have to see each other unless we wanted to. It was good to have an opportunity to strengthen our relationship, but my one gripe about my brother was that he refused to settle down. He was closest to me in age and at 31, he was dedicated to the bachelor life. I was not against him remaining single for life, but what I was against was him not being honest with the women he dated. Once or twice I got caught up in the drama because they thought by befriending me, I would tell them who was around when they weren’t, even though I didn’t know what Nate did upstairs. One chick, Amber was cool and we hung out on occasion. Yet, when she and Nate were on the outs, so was I. I wasn’t mad; I figured it was karma for the way I treated Kita.

The one benefit to Amber was her talking me up to her friend Terryn who hired me as her assistant for T. Hendricks Events.

Working for Terryn showed me a hidden talent I didn’t realize I possessed; I was good at putting on amazing events. I was her assistant for about six months when Miranda, her planner who specialized in weddings had a family emergency that took her back to Jamaica and I had to fill in with some projects. With Terryn’s assistance, I learned the ins and outs of putting an event together, working out the details, and bringing my client’s ideas to life. Miranda never made it back to the States so the job was mine permanently. It was brides like Rae that made me love the profession that found me.

On the way back to the office, I called Sienna, and as I suspected, what she deemed an emergency was not. I spent my entire drive from Conyers to Midtown convincing my bride, who was four days away from her wedding, that medium shrimp would be perfectly fine in the salad. Of all the things she could be worried about, this woman blew my phone up about shrimp.

“Were you able to talk Sienna down off the ledge?” my assistant/partner in crime Devon asked, greeting me at the door. If he was waiting for me to pull up, I knew it was because Sienna pissed him off. I was sure he tried to talk her down, but she was a bridezilla to the nth power. Devon was my right hand in every sense of the word. I could not do what I do without him. “I really cannot believe she is going on a tangent about the size of some damn shrimp!”

“Tell me about it,” I sighed. “I talked her down today, but a lot can happen between today and Saturday. I cannot wait for this weekend so she can stop worrying me.” Some brides realized the benefit of having a wedding coordinator was to handle the details. Some brides, like Sienna, were overly invested in the most minute details. I wasn’t even sure why shrimp worried her so much, but it did.

“Have we heard back from the venues for the Abrams wedding?” We moved from the entrance to towards my office. We had a quaint little office space that was mostly storage for the countless items we needed for an event and a meeting space for clients. My office was small but functional. I loved it because my window had a view of the hustle and bustle of Midtown. Sometimes getting lost in the cars and people was what I needed to relax and get my creative juices flowing. I snagged a donut from the snacks from our breakroom that was really our conference room even though I didn’t need it.

“Yes, two have availability for their date, but neither is the one she wants.”

“I’ll do some mockups for the two spaces and see if we can’t get her to go with one of those. She’s holding out for the Magnolia House, but we need to lock down a venue like yesterday. Oh, and we got another complaint about Townsend Limos. Terryn is livid. Let’s see if there are other options just in case.” I sat at my desk, placing my donut on a napkin while Devon sat in the chair facing me.

“Got it. I put a bug in Trina’s ear, but I’ll send an email, too. We’ve had some inquiries…two retirement parties and a Sweet 16 that will be extra and over the top. I don’t get dropping that much money on a Sweet 16, but if these folks want to contribute to my Prada and Gucci habit, I won’t complain.”

I chuckled at Devon because even though it was stereotypical as hell, he was a gay man with an impeccable style. If I went anywhere where I needed to look runway-ready, Devon was my go-to. I hadn’t dressed myself since I met him.

“Speaking of clothes,” Devon continued. “You have dinner with Jerrell tonight. Are you going home to change or…”

Devon’s tone and the blank look on his face told me he did not approve of what I had on.

“What’s wrong with this?” I asked, gesturing down my green wide-leg linen pants and matching blazer over a white cami. It was my royal blue wedges that gave my outfit a bit of flare or so I thought. I thought I was cute.

“Oh, it’s cute, just not date cute. We need to show off that bawdy, Nay,” Devon winked.

I took in his compliment and he was right. After settling into my new life in Atlanta, I joined a gym as a form of stress relief. Losing weight wasn’t my end goal, even though I did. I was healthier, more proportioned, and most importantly, I felt better about myself. My dress size still had two numbers, but mentally, I felt amazing.

“I’m not sure if I’ll have time to change, because-“

“I’ll make you have time,” my assistant interrupted.

“Yeah I bet you will,” I laughed.

Even though Devon was my assistant, he was also someone I would consider a friend. After the way I lost Kita, I worked on being a better person so that I didn’t drag anyone else down. I apologized to her sincerely, but as I suspected the damage was done. I couldn’t go back and change that; all I could do was be better.

Devon and I hit it off on his first day. As a matter of fact, he was the second of my four interviews and I knew I wanted him as my assistant after five minutes. I was looking for a me, the type of assistant I was to Terryn and he was it. His personality was suited for this type of work and he was the most organized person I ever met. Two weeks after he started, we ended up talking about relationships and I told him all about my weakness when it came to Tez. It’s been a year and while I was over him, I could admit that situation still stung.

“I don’t need to change,” I said unenthusiastically. Even though Devon would clear my schedule to make sure I had time to get ready for dinner with Jarrell, I wasn’t looking forward to this date. I wanted to cancel.

“Ok, what’s wrong with Jarrell?” Devon asked, his tone full of frustration and doubt.

“What’s right with him?”

“Girl,” Devon began, his face contorted into disbelief. “You find something wrong with everyone. Everyone!”

“Cause,” I whined, “they all suck!”

I took a little time to get over Tez, then jumped right back out into the dating world. I wasn’t meant to be single; I was wife-material. I just had to wade through these trash ass men to find my husband. There were 50 times more men in the Atlanta/Metro Atlanta area than in Albany, but I seemed to only meet the worse of the worse.

“Girl, your dramatic ass is just picky. Cause name one thing this man does that is a turn-off. You ain’t even known him long enough to know him.”

He wasn’t wrong about that part. I’d only been talking to Jarrell for five or six days. But in that short amount of time, I already knew he wasn’t someone I wanted to deal with exclusively.

“He’s trying to take me to some sushi place. I bet he didn’t even read the reviews. That place looks shady.”

“Did you tell him you’d prefer to go somewhere else?”

“Why do I have to tell him what to do? If he can’t do something as simple as plan a date, what good is he to me?”

Devon stared at me, his eyes a mixture of confusion and pity. I know that look well because he always makes that face when I tell him about my dating woes. His boyish charm disappears and he becomes an old man, a great uncle sharing wisdom with his wayward niece.

“How do you expect a man to know what you want if you don’t tell him? He’s not a mind reader.”

“Checking the reviews should be common sense though.”

Me and Devon stared at each other, neither of us needing to continue this conversation because we’d had it a million times. He was the one to break first.

“You got it, babes. If you want to keep getting the same result, just keep doing the same thing. You find something wrong with everyone because as much as you say you want a man and a relationship, you are scared. And that’s ok. You don’t have to be ready to date. But,” he said standing to leave my office, “you’re wasting your time and theirs if you aren’t going to be honest with yourself.”

With that, Devon blew me a kiss and slipped out of my office back to his desk, leaving me to wrestle with what I already knew: Devon was right; I was not ready. That was evident in all of the disastrous dates I’d been on and all the trash men I’d met.

If truth be told, it was me, not them.

If anything rubbed me the wrong way, if something felt off, if something seemed like a lie, if something sounded too good to be true, I picked it apart, finding fault in any and everything.

It took him too long to text back? He’s not single.

He hasn’t planned a date? He’s broke.

He has more than one baby mama? He’s a man whore.

He misspells words? He’s uneducated.

He has an apostrophe in his name? He’s a mama’s boy.

He has over ten tattoos? He’s been to jail.

He gets pedicures? He’s probably on the down low.

If my relationship with Tez didn’t teach me anything, it’s that I need to be observant and cut bullshit off before I’m still dealing with it years down the road. That was my biggest mistake with Tez…I didn’t check the disrespect soon enough. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.

But…Devon may have had a point. Maybe I was too hasty in cutting these men off. I barely made it a month before finding some reason to end things. It wasn’t a great loss to me because I barely knew these men, but it was draining to have to constantly play 21 questions with different men. I don’t know how many more ‘so what’s your favorite food’ I had left in me.

So far Jarrell hadn’t given me any complaints outside of this sushi spot he wanted to take me to. I decided to take Devon’s advice and tell him I had concerns about this restaurant.

                                    Me: Hey there. You busy?

                                    404-555-5858: At work, but I can take a few minutes. How’s your day?

                                    404-555-5858: Also, looking forward to our date tonight *smiling emoji*

                                    Me: It’s pretty good. A little busy. And about our date…

                                    404-555-5858: Are you canceling? *sad face*

Me: No…I just don’t think I am comfortable with that place. The reviews weren’t that great

404-555-5858: whew gif

404-555-5858: Is there anywhere in particular you want to go? I picked that place because I’ve eaten there before, but it’s been a while so maybe they’ve gone downhill. Plus, it’s closer to you…don’t want you to have to go too far

Me: I know a place, I’ll send the address

404-555-5858: Alright beautiful. I’ll see you later *winking*

I leaned back in my chair, almost amazed at how easy that was. Maybe Devon knows what he’s talking about, I smirked.

******

“You ready, bae?”

I gave myself a once-over in the mirror, enamored with my reflection. My makeup looked flawless on my honey-colored skin, my eyeshadow complimenting my almond eyes. The red lipstick accentuated my full lips and my braids in a top bun showed off my high cheekbones. The weight I’d lost and kept off for the past year looked good on me. Shedding the pounds and Tez’s dead weight has made me more comfortable in my skin. The red halter dress fit me, my curves more toned and proportioned. 

Not only did I look good physically, I was in a much better place than I was a year ago. The move to Atlanta, a job I loved, a better relationship with my brother, and more recently, finding happiness with Jarrell proved that leaving Albany and Tez was my best move.

“Yes, I’m ready,” I said joining Jarrell in the bedroom of our hotel suite. “Don’t you look handsome?”

Jarrell’s red, grey, and black short set clung to his muscular arms and toned legs. Even if I hadn’t met him at the gym, it would be apparent that he worked out. “Just matching your fly, babe.”

Jarrell posed for pictures with me before heading to dinner. Once I stopped nitpicking the men I met, I saw that Jarrell was the type of man I wanted Tez to be. We went on dates and he showered me with gifts, like this baecation to Destin. Tonight was our last night here and I was not looking forward to going back to the real world. For the past two days, we spent time on the beach, talked, ate and drank, and made love. It was a perfect weekend getaway. Jarrell showed me why my relationship with Tez ended the way it did; I appreciated the effort Jarrell put into me and my happiness.

“Thank you for this,” I gushed, seated on the patio at Mimmo’s, an Italian restaurant I picked because of the rave reviews. Even though the inside décor was even more impressive in person than in the pictures online, I wanted to sit outside because why waste any opportunity to experience Destin in September?

“No problem babe. You deserve it after the way you worked for wedding season,” Jarrell gushed, taking a sip of his Jack and Coke.

“I still have one more to go. I can’t wait to see how it turns out.” I was still pretty new to wedding coordinating, but most of my weddings have been the traditional spring/summer weddings. In December, I’d be coordinating my first winter wedding. Georgia winters really didn’t start until January, but the elegant winter wonderland-themed nuptials would capture the essence of the season.

“I know you’ll knock it out of the park, babe. You always do,” Jarrell said, smiling encouragingly.

Having a supportive partner was something I had to get used to. Jarrell was genuinely interested in my profession, letting me rant and vent about my day and sharing my excitement about a successful event. This was one of the few weekends I had free during wedding season and I was ecstatic that Jarrell listened when I said I needed to unwind after months of back-to-back events.

“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?”

The loud, high-pitched shrill behind me scared me, but not as much as feeling something wet hitting my face. My brain was in shambles trying to figure out what was going on. I smelled Jerrell’s drink on my skin as I dabbed my face with a napkin. I couldn’t piece together why he spit his drink all over me.

“YOU’RE UP HERE CHILLING WITH THIS BITCH WHILE I’M AT HOME TAKING CARE OF OUR FUCKING KIDS?”

My eyes followed the horror on Jarrell’s face to the loud, crying, and very pregnant woman yelling behind me. The other patrons on the patio were staring at us and just like them, I was confused.

“Jarrell, what’s going on?” I asked cautiously, hoping this was just a case of mistaken identity. It wasn’t lost on me that she called me a bitch, but that wasn’t something I needed to address right now.

“Jarrell?” the woman chuckled. “Can’t even tell the truth about your name.”

Jarrell looked like he was in a trance, his eyes fixed on the woman who was now standing beside him, her pregnant belly right in his face. Without warning, she smacked him upside his head. Jarrell just sat there, not reacting.

“Say something, dummy!” the woman commanded. Jarrell huffed and stood, cowering over the woman who was not going to back down. Nervously, I glanced around, seeing all eyes on us.

“Chan, why you gotta do all this?”

“WHY I GOTTA DO ALL THIS?” she yelled, her finger in his face. “You’re on a fucking date and you’re asking me why I’m doing all this? Because you ain’t shit! I can’t believe I married your dumb ass!”

“Married?” I croaked in disbelief. “You’re married?”

Jarrell wore no ring. He answered when I called. He took me on dates. Nothing about this man gave me any indication he was married.

The woman spun around, flashing her ring in my face. “Married for five years and 2.5 kids.”

“And you have kids?” This man told me he was single and had no children. I was flabbergasted.

“Wow!” Chan chortled. “You aren’t just out here making a mockery out of our marriage, but you are telling these hoes you don’t have kids? Like Solomon, Jr. and Saveah aren’t your damn twins?”

I winced at her calling me a hoe, but what was even more pressing was that he lied about everything. Including his name. “Your name is Solomon?”

“Naomi, not now,” Jarrell, or whatever his name was pleaded.

Solomon Jerrell Shelton, Senior,” Chan answered for him since he didn’t want to answer my question.

I stood, locking eyes with Chan who looked like she would cry or commit murder in the next few seconds. “I didn’t know he was married. He told me he was single and had no children. I am so sorry. Had I known, I promise I wouldn’t have given him the time of day.”

What Chan didn’t know was that I was her about a year ago, finding out Tez was lying to that other girl about me. She also didn’t know he was in a relationship and I was grateful she let me know he was being grimy behind my back.

This situation may have been worse because they were married, with kids and she was pregnant. He left his pregnant wife at home with their kids to spend the weekend in Destin with me. I was appalled. I was disgusted. I was hurt. I was embarrassed.

I picked up my glass of wine, throwing the contents in his direction. The red liquid landed on his face and shoulder, some splashing on his wife as well. “My bad,” I apologized, handing her a napkin. “But Jarrell, Solomon, whoever you are…fuck you!”

I searched around for the exit needing to get away from being a spectacle for complete strangers. Outside of the restaurant, it dawned on me that I was essentially stranded. We Ubered over here, but Jarrell drove us to Destin. I was five, almost six hours away from home. Asking anyone to come get me would not only be embarrassing, it would be such a long drive. Reluctantly, I searched for flights to get me out of this hell hole.

*****

“Bitch, I know you are lying! Please tell me you are lying! The bastard is married? With kids?” Devon asked incredulously.

“Married with fucking kids!”

“Chile…Khia said it best. ‘Don’t trust no nigga’. I swear these men ain’t shit out here, you hear me?”

 “That woman could have killed us both, thinking I was a willing side chick.” Being safely back in Atlanta with Jarrell/Solomon blocked on everything, I could breathe a little easier. No one had to tell me that situation could have gone left quickly. I was pissed that he lied to me, but even more pissed that he put me in harm's way and had his very pregnant wife drive almost 6 hours to confront him. I didn’t even know how she knew exactly where we were.

“Girl, I didn’t even think about that!” Devon said, his eyes going wide. “That nigga would have had me in all-black Gucci mourning my bestie! I would have run his ass over for making me put together a funeral ensemble!”

I didn’t mean to laugh, because it wasn’t funny, but Devon was such a drama queen. “Save the all-black Gucci ensemble for something else…ain’t no funerals happening anytime soon. Nothing will be happening at all.”

Devon leaned back on the sofa, his eyes on the ceiling. My brother didn’t come down here often so he didn’t object to me replacing his ugly brown sofa and blue loveseat with a light grey sectional sofa with yellow and blue accent pillows. Just taking out the mismatched furniture changed the space dramatically.

“I’m sorry,” Devon began, not looking in my direction, but with guilt in his voice. “I pushed you to take a chance and it could have ended badly. Worse than it did.”

I patted Devon on his leg. “No blame, friend. I’m an adult and I can make my own decisions.” Devon smiled weakly and I could tell he felt a little responsible for what transpired in Florida.

“How the hell did he hide a wife and kids for four to five months?”

“Honey if you know, I know,” I sighed, mimicking Devon’s posture. I was tense the entire flight and Uber ride home. I took a long, hot shower, but still felt the soreness from my clinched muscles. It wasn’t until Devon came over that I was able to relax, the tension in my neck and head subsiding. Devon’s presence and the joint we smoked on the patio were kicking in.

Devon and I went through my conversations with him, our dates, even when I went to his ‘house’…nothing about our interactions hinted that he was married or had kids. It was pretty sad that he not only denied his wife but his kids as well. We deduced that the apartment he claimed was his was either where he cheated or didn’t belong to him. Either way, he went through a lot to hide his other life.

“Well that’s that,” I announced with finality.

“Nothing to do now but move on. Next time, we need to…”

“There won’t be a next time,” I interrupted.

“What do you mean there won’t be a next time? You joining a convent?”

I giggled at Devon’s question. “Do women still go to convents? Are there nuns in 2022?” I couldn’t imagine a woman giving up her life and the touch of a man to serve God. I didn’t know anyone who had that much willpower, but I was about to be one of them-minus exclusively devoting my life to the service of God.

Devon ignored my question and asked me again what I meant. “I’m just saying…I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Do what Nay?” Devon asked impatiently. “You don’t want to date men? You wanna be a lesbian? Honey, there’s coochie drama, too.”

“Devon,” I cackled, unable to take him seriously. “No…I mean this. Dating, trying to make a connection, finding my life partner.”

“Basically, you’re about to go through your hoe phase,” Devon surmised.

“Call it what you want,” I shrugged. “But I promise I am not going to go through anything like this again.”