The Playa Chronicles Read Online Free Page A

thought better of it. She wasn’t the prettiest woman I’d ever seen, but she was sexy. Very sexy. Her movements were suggestive. That dress fit her and she wore it well. “You look very nice. That color agrees with you, it highlights your beautiful complexion.”
    “I ain’t too dark for you? I know how y’all light-skinned men get sometimes.”
    “I ain’t light skinned, I’m brown skinned.” I hate it when people call me light skinned.
    Yvette laughed. “Anyway. Y’all want a woman to be skinny as a rail, have long, stringy hair and be damn near white.”
    “No, Yvette, that’s not my type.” I paused to contemplate just exactly what my type was. It didn’t take long. I compared her to April. “How tall are you?”
    “Five, five,” Yvette said as the waiter arrived. He introduced himself as Tony and told us he would be our server. We didn’t seem to care. “Who you comparing me to, your woman?”
    “Yes,” I said, glad that I got to this part early on in the conversation.
    “You live with her?”
    “No.”
    “What’s her name?”
    “April.”
    “So how do I rate?”
    “I’d say you stacked up pretty nicely.” I remembered what Victor said about honesty being so liberating. “I think you wear too much makeup, but other than that, I’d say you rate very highly,” I exaggerated, ’cause telling her that April was much prettier than she was, somehow seemed a little inappropriate.
    By this time, Tony was feeling pretty left out of the conversation. He said that he would give us some time to look at the menu and return. Before he left, I ordered a drink. “I’ll have a Cuervo Margarita. On the rocks, no salt.”
    “And for the lady?” Tony asked.
    “The same,” Yvette said, dismissing him with her left hand.
    “So what, you work around here, live around here?”
    “No, I work around here. I stay in the Swats.”
    “Where?” I asked.
    “ Southwest Atlanta .”
    “Oh,” I said, feeling a little old, not being up on the latest slang.
    “Where do you stay?”
    “I live in Decatur .”
    “I’m out that way all the time, whereabouts?”
    “Off Miller Road and Covington Hwy. ”
    “I know where that is. I got a girlfriend that lives in some apartments out past Panola. I’m out there all the time,” Yvette said; then she paused a minute. I could tell she was waiting on the causal invitation to stop by some time. When I didn’t offer one she moved on. “I work down the street at Rivinia . I work for a collector.”
    “What do you do there?”
    “ Dah , I’m a collector.”
    “Have you been here before?” I glanced at the menu.
    “Yeah, I come here all the time.”
    “I always have the Penne Rustica when I come here.”
    “So do I .” Yvette leaned on the table and folded her hands in front of her face. “Maybe it’s true,” she said, peering over her hands.
    “What’s that?” I noted her eyes. Very soft eyes.
    “Great mind’s think alike.”
    “Maybe so.” I was starting to dig her. Pull up, Rick, this is only a test.
    “So you got a woman, huh? That’s too bad.”
    “Oh really. Why do you say that?” Here it comes.
    “’Cause you and I could have done some things.” She set it out. Just like that. Before the drinks came even. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I looked at her and the way she was looking at me. She looked good. Now this was usually the part where I would lay out my program. How we could still do some things as long as she realized what time it was. But that wasn’t what I was here for. “That’s a shame. Guess that’s my loss.”
    “Rick, you just don’t know.”
    “So, what’s up with you, Yvette, you got a man?”
    “No, not really. I mean, I got someone I go out with.”
    “Sounds like a real man to me.”
    “Guess you could call him that,” Yvette said, as Tony returned with our drinks. We informed him of our lunch selection and quickly dismissed him. “Now. What was I saying? Oh yeah, I guess you could call him my