He's Just A Friend by Mary B. Morrison

what you’ve told me, seems as though he cares a lot about you,” Mandy said, then scribbled on her pad again.
    â€œDesmond is just my friend. F-R-I-E-N-D,” Fancy enunciated each letter.
    Mandy stood and handed Fancy a rose from the blue vase. “Happy belated birthday, Fancy. Okay, well, that concludes our session for today.”
    Fancy felt the tension in Mandy’s exhale but didn’t hear a sigh. Sniffing the rose, Fancy gathered her coat and purse, and stood. “I’ll call to schedule my next appoint.”
    Fancy strolled past the receptionist, out the door, and trotted across University. She slammed the rose on the concrete, then crushed the red petals beneath her tan suede knee-high boot. Removing the plastic bag from the meter, Fancy hopped in her car and headed to Café Zula in San Leandro. Maybe she’d stop coming to Mandy for a while like she had last year. She hadn’t seen Mandy in almost four months and she was doing fine without her advice. What advice? Fancy thought.
    Fancy parked at a meter behind SaVoy’s platinum-colored sports utility vehicle and made her grand entrance, stepping into the restaurant like she was on time. A host Fancy hadn’t seen before escorted her to the table. He glanced at SaVoy, then stared at Fancy and said, “You were definitely worth the wait if I must say so myself.” Then he turned to SaVoy and said, “Miss, thank you for waiting.”
    SaVoy and Tanya were seated at their usual table in front of the huge Anthony Scott lifelike painting of a black woman in a white dress lounging on green pastures. Fancy always sat with her back toward the woman. The painting was beautiful but the woman felt so real Fancy wanted to order her something to eat.
    â€œGirl, did you see how he was eyeing me like I was on his menu?” Fancy commented, not the least bit interested. He was just a host. Now the owner and chef, Leonard, if he didn’t have a wife and kids, Fancy would’ve invited him over and given him a premier performance of a new dance. Leonard prepared the best Creole jambalaya, gumbo, and catfish. Not to mention the peach cobbler, bread pudding, and homemade pound cake. Leonard even served chitterlings but he wouldn’t have to cook that at home for her because Fancy didn’t eat pork.
    Tanya laughed in agreement with Fancy, then said, “Yeah, yeah. I saw him staring at you, girl.”
    But not SaVoy. She probably liked him and thought Fancy wanted him. Fancy couldn’t help it that men were drawn to her magnetic personality. Fancy decided SaVoy could have him. “SaVoy, you should get his number, girl. Want me to get it for you?”
    â€œYou can get it for me,” Tanya said, laughing again.
    Tanya was short and wide like a Weeble, and she wobbled when she walked. Her fingers were stubby and chunky. And that worn out ponytail she kept attaching to the back of her head was tacky and SaVoy knew it too but wouldn’t admit it. Fancy didn’t mind hanging out with Tanya because any man worth having would never show interest in Tanya. SaVoy was a different kind of competition, but Fancy’s outspoken personality gave her an advantage over SaVoy.
    Fancy shook her head in Tanya’s direction. “Naw, he’s not your type.”
    SaVoy casually asked, “How was your session with Mandy this morning?”
    Fancy smiled because Leonard was greeting a guest at the table next to them. Whenever a man was interested in Fancy, SaVoy always changed the subject.
    â€œIt was cool,” Fancy replied, then gave her girlfriends a synopsis of her New Year’s resolutions.
    â€œWhy do you keep leaving out going to church?” SaVoy asked, but kept talking before Fancy could answer. “Come go with us”—she motioned toward Tanya, then continued—“and my dad this Sunday.”
    Fancy’s eyes darted around the room like a bullet ricocheting off of the