Hotlanta by Mitzi Miller Page A

case you haven’t noticed, I don’t really give a crap whether Keisha likes what I’m doing or not—even if she thinks I do. Fact of the matter is, he’s back in town, and I need to figure out if I want to see what he’s talking about now, or if I want him to go away. That’s my decision, not my mom’s, not Sydney’s.”
    â€œFine,” Donald said, slightly annoyed. “But you know she’ll be in that ass if she finds out you was talkin’ to Dice.”
    â€œWhatever…” Lauren said, turning her attention to her reflection in the mirror. She adjusted her choir robe so that her diamond-encrusted cross fell perfectly between her breasts. As she began to run her fingers through her silky hair, Donald elbowed her out of the way. What the hell ?
    â€œWhatever, whatever,” Donald whispered over his shoulder as he struck his own GQ poses directly in front of Lauren. “Obviously, you got a mouth on you, but Keisha ain’t no joke…”
    â€œUm, what the hell are you doing?” Lauren said, going from annoyed to pissed in seconds flat. She put her hands onher hips and was just about to go off on Donald for blocking her view when the choral director, a white guy named Ron Sheff who just loved the Lord, chamber music, and choir boys (in that order), cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “People! Hello!” Ron said with a clap of his hands. “It’s time. Soloists first, choir en masse second!”
    â€œOkay, darling. Gotta run,” Donald said, turning to reach toward Lauren to give her a peck on the lips. His face met with her fistful of Altoids instead.
    â€œMint?” she said in disgust, unable to contain herself. “’Cause your ass needs it. Ever get around to having that checked out?” It was all she could do not to remind Donald for the hundredth time that he needed to make an appointment with someone to see if everything on his insides was right, because his chronic halitosis made it extremely difficult for her to even have a conversation with him, much less fake-tongue him down to keep up their PDA charades.
    â€œWhatever, bitch,” Donald said, pushing the Altoids away and awkwardly taking Lauren’s shoulders into his hands to pull her closer. He stuck his tongue into her mouth and wiggled it and his head around, throwing in a few “mm-MM’s” for emphasis. Lauren fell out laughing at his dramatics, which left a few of the other choir members shaking their heads.
    â€œYou’re the one,” he said, twirling out the door.
    Lauren shook her head; just as she was about to follow the choir out of the room, her Sidekick rang. She snatched itout of her purse, pounded the answer button, and practically yelled a much-annoyed “Hello?”
    â€œYeah, Lauren? This is Hal Workman, down at Paintless Dent Removal. Calling you about your Saab.”
    â€œOh, yeah, hey,” Lauren said, adjusting her voice. She’d been anxious to hear from him and hoping he’d have some good news about the repairs to her car. As usual, she needed him to be quick about it because she hadn’t exactly told her parents she was in a car accident in the first place. She’d talked Will, one of the sales guys at Altimus’s Conyers dealership, to let her “borrow” a loaner identical to her Saab while she got Baby fixed, and she needed to get that loaner back to Conyers before Altimus noticed it was missing, or worse, before he noticed that the car parked in his driveway wasn’t really Lauren’s.
    â€œHow’s it going, Hal? Did you fix my baby? Can I come pick it up today?”
    â€œI’m sorry, Lauren, but Mr. Duke came down to the shop earlier on some business and saw your Saab here. He asked me to put it in storage. I just thought I’d give you a head’s up and let you know I won’t be at Paintless anymore,” Hal said, his voice