So You Call Yourself a Man by Carl Weber Page A

Manor reception hall as Brent and Alison took center stage. I handed the microphone to Brent so he and his bride could say their final good-byes, then slipped into the crowd to check in with my wife. It had been one of the most emotional wedding ceremonies I’d ever been to. I don’t think there was a dry eye in the place after Brent and Alison recited from memory their very personal vows. If that wasn’t enough, the Westbury Manor reception hall looked like something out of a magazine, and the food they served tasted like it came from a five-star restaurant. Add in DJ Smooth, arguably the best old-school DJ in Queens, and you had the best wedding I’d ever been to, including my own. I’m sure the whole affair set Brent and Alison back a pretty penny.
    After maneuvering my way through the crowd now surrounding the Williamses on the dance floor, I found an empty table toward the back of the hall. I sat down, pulled out my cell phone, and dialed my wife. We talked for about fifteen minutes and I told her about the wedding. She was jealous, of course, and wished she was there, but said nothing could tear her away from packing up our belongings so we could move them to New York. Jessica was excited about our move. She probably asked me fifteen times a day when I was coming home to move them out.
    â€œExcuse me, sir. Can I have this dance?” a warm, sexy voice purred just as I hung up the phone.
    I looked up to see the woman who took my virginity, my high school sweetheart, Tiffany Boyd. She was still as pretty as they come, with her smooth bronze skin highlighted by a large dimple on her right cheek. She’d gained a little weight over the years, most of which ended up around her hips, and of course you know I didn’t mind that, being the ass man that I am.
    â€œIt’s been a long time, Tiffany. I heard a rumor that you married crazy-ass Kareem.” I started to laugh but stopped when I saw her expression.
    â€œCrazy is right,” she said as she sat beside me. That man put me through hell before I divorced him.”
    â€œOh, wow, I’m sorry to hear that.”
    â€œSo am I, but he’s out of my life now.” She smiled, changing the subject. “So, speaking of rumors, I heard you were dead.”
    â€œNo, I’m still alive and kicking.” We both laughed.
    It’s funny how you don’t think about a person for years and then they pop up and your mind is flooded with memories. Right now, most of mine had to do with sex and how Tiffany used to put it on me every night in the backseat of my father’s car. Boy, did she have some good damn pussy. My dick was getting hard just thinking about it. I was glad I was sitting down so the table could cover it.
    Tiffany was a year older than me. We started dating in my sophomore year of high school. She was one of those girls who never had any girlfriends and was always hanging around with a bunch of guys. Truth is, she had a reputation for being a slut, and the only reason I started to date her was because I wanted to lose my virginity.
    What I didn’t know was that it wasn’t as easy to get in her pants as everyone said. Oh, she wasn’t a virgin, but you could count the guys she’d been with on one hand. I found out later that many a brother had lied on their dicks when it came to her, including my boy Brent. Let him tell it, all you had to do was buy her an ice-cream sundae or a shake from Baskin-Robbins and take her for a walk down by Roy Wilkins Park, and she’d do all the rest. I must have bought twenty-five sundaes and another thirty shakes before I finally got some, and even then, she didn’t initiate it. Funny thing is, by the time she did give me some, I really liked her and didn’t give a damn what her reputation was. From that point on, we were boyfriend and girlfriend, an inseparable pair. That is, until she graduated and joined the Navy without telling me.
    â€œHow you