"Am I…" I mumbled to myself, still holding the candle in the brown bag. I opened the bag and looked inside to see the candle and a card. Pulling it out I saw a name and address next to the Red Light District bar. Not wanting to miss lunch, I continued on to the restaurant to finish eating and called to check up on my mom.
"Hey, Ma," I said when she answered the call.
"Hi, baby."
"What are you doing?"
"Watching your father fix up his car," she replied.
My parents have been married for thirty years. They still acted like teenagers and could never be away from each other for more than a few hours. I'm twenty-eight and loved seeing an example of love that was meaningful and respectful of each other. Something I'd hoped to have in my life one day. I doubted it would ever come with the type of men I'd come across. Being a curvy girl with hips, ass, full breasts, and a stomach had some men thinking I was only right to be used for their pleasure and not held to a high standard.
"Tell him I said I'd come by to get my oil changed this weekend," I spoke, then thanked the waitress for bringing my BLT sandwich and fries. I tossed my salad as soon as I walked inside the cafe. It wasn't too crowded, and I got my favorite booth in the back corner so I could watch the crowd come and go.
"Hey, Scout!" Dad shouted.
I chuckled at his statement. I'm a history fanatic, and I loved watching the history of all things from the early years of Greek mythology, Egypt, animals, and buildings. Scouting the origin of where something came from was one of my favorite things to do since I was a little girl. Eventually, he started calling me scout, and it stuck with me. Victor and Halle Peterson wanted more kids, but it never happened, and then my mom was diagnosed with cancer when I was fifteen, and we thought we had the all-clear, but two years ago, it came back.
"Hi, Dad."
"When are you coming over, little girl?" he asked, taking the phone.
"This weekend. I promise," I stated, taking a bite of the sandwich then wiping my mouth with the napkin.
"Good, we haven't seen you in a month," Dad fussed.
"Really? We FaceTimed a few days ago," I replied, and he grunted through the phone.
"That's FaceTime. I want to see my daughter in person," Dad told me.
"All right, old man. I'll come over on Sunday for dinner," I said, finishing my lunch as we continued talking about their day until it was time for me to head back to the office.
Four hours later, I was home getting dressed in a short black dress that Sandra picked out that showed my figure that I usually kept hidden. She put my hair up in a ponytail with flowy curls and full-on makeup with lashes and red lipstick. I didn't even believe it was me at first. I picked up the gold bracelet and earrings that matched before sliding on my black heels.
"Ready!" Sandra called out, stepping into my bedroom. Having her as a roommate made these moments worth it to an extent. She respected my wishes and didn't go overboard with making me over the top sexy, but I did feel cute. Not enough to bring a man home as she would. But if Jerome was there, I might ask him out on a date.
I nodded, picking up the gold clutch purse and keys. Shutting the lights off in my bedroom, I followed her outside toward her car. We had a beautiful apartment in Chelsea, and having her work in the same building as me was easier for commuting back and forth to work.
"I'm ready."
"Ohhh, you look sexy. You can thank me later."
"Thank you for what?"
"For you getting laid tonight," Sandra taunted, wiggling her tongue out and backing out of the driveway. Snapping my seatbelt, I brushed off her comment.
"I'm not looking forward to getting laid tonight. I might ask Jerome out on a date, though."
"Thank God!" Sandra blurted out.
"Really, Sandra."
"Yes really. He's always flirting with you. He's so far up your ass, and you're oblivious."
"Okay, let's move on from my love life. I'm not that desperate."
"Nothing about being desperate, Kimberly. You're gorgeous and sexy, and you need to gain a little more confidence. Men are always flocking toward you. Plus, you got a big ass that I'd pay for if I had the money," Sandra joked, hitting the left turn signal before driving off. I waved her off, looking out of the window as we drove into the city. Tonight, I just wanted a little conversation, and hopefully, it wasn’t too crowded. Red Light District was usually the hottest place on Friday nights with the younger crowd. Thirty minutes later, we arrived at the bar, and I pulled the visor down to check my makeup one more time. I saw a line of people waiting to get inside. Opening my purse, I shuffled around for my lipstick and came across the card from earlier today that the old woman had in the bag with the candle I bought.