He's Just A Friend by Mary B. Morrison Page A

chandelier, to the long-stemmed flute in front of her, over to the stem of farm-grown cotton propped in a crystal vase on the adjacent table. Fancy could have looked at the cotton on their own table but it was too close. She wondered, if there truly was a God, why did He let those awful things happen to her as child? She used to pray when she was a child, but after she didn’t get any answers, one night, over twelve years ago, Fancy stopped believing in God. The thought of going to church made Fancy feel the preacher would single her out. Fornication. Fancy, that’s a sin . Adultery. Fancy, that’s a sin . Coveting thy neighbor’s ox or his ass . . . Fancy, that’s a sin, too . Whew! “No thanks. I’ll pass,” Fancy said, because she was certain she’d committed every sex-related sin in the Bible and created a few new ones probably on a list awaiting entry into some revised New Testament.
    â€œWe ain’t playin’ Scrabble, girl. You’ll end up in church sooner or later. God’s only going to let you pass but so many times. Then—”
    Tanya nodded in agreement with SaVoy, then blurted, “I’m hungry.”
    Tanya’s mind always seemed to be off the subject but this time Fancy was glad. Plus, she knew SaVoy was telling the truth but she still didn’t want to hear it. Tanya had recently started going to church with SaVoy.
    Fancy looked at Tanya and said, “Girl, you need to start lifting weights with me and stop arm curling the silverware.” Fancy curled the fork in one hand and the knife in the other and grunted, “Uuuhuh!”
    SaVoy slapped Fancy’s wrist. “Leave Tanya alone, Fancy. She’s beautiful.”
    Tanya smiled at Fancy.
    Yeah? Whatever. Not really. Tanya could look a lot better, but never as good as her. Fancy thought about giving them the lowdown on Desmond but opted not to because SaVoy would probably sprinkle her with the blessed Holy water she kept in her purse. Especially if Fancy had told them that after she slapped a non-spermicidal condom on Desmond’s dick, she let him hit it in the rear. Fancy stopped using those spermicidal condoms after she’d read somewhere that they might promote the contraction of sexually transmitted diseases, including HIV and possibly interfere with her ability to have a baby.
    Why couldn’t Desmond have Byron’s money and charisma? “I’ll have my driver call and get your particulars.” Fancy loved that shit!
    â€œWhat particulars?” Tanya asked, interrupting Fancy’s thoughts.
    â€œOh, I didn’t realize I was talking out loud. But since you asked, I met a new man—Byron—at the gala the other night and he’s having his driver pick me up Friday night.”
    SaVoy frowned and said, “You mean the gala Desmond spent all that money—”
    The host walked over, handed SaVoy his business card and said, “Excuse me for interrupting, but I’m getting ready to leave. Call me. I’d love to take you out sometime.”
    Fancy looked at SaVoy and quickly changed the subject. “I told you I didn’t want him. Girl, I can’t cum off that income. And since you ain’t seeing nobody and all, you should kick it with that brotha. Y’all were made for one another. Besides, what you savin’ yourself for?”
    â€œThat’s because I have something called morals and standards. And did you ever stop to think maybe he was never interested in you?”
    â€œOh, that’s right. You’re saving yourself for Tyronne. Girl, you can forget about him. Tyronne’s allergic to virgins.”
    Miss wanna be perfect. SaVoy wasn’t all that. Just because she looked damn near white with that straight ass hair, her daddy’s was blacker than Wesley Snipes. Her ‘papa’ probably wasn’t her real daddy. And SaVoy had issues, too, not knowing her mother at all.
    Fancy tapped the knife