A/N: Great response to this story so far. Thank you to IRENELOVE83, typhoidcandy, nikki1335, xoxo olivia, justkimmy, Alexis Black-Reigns and Guest for the reviews.
Walking through the door into her small apartment, Sasha's heart sank as she picked through her mail. Bill after bill to pay. She tossed them onto the small dining table, in no mood to deal with them. It had been a long, annoying shift at the Grill and she was just glad to be home. T.K. was at basketball practice preparing for his high school's big game, while Mia was on her way to the apartment from elementary school. Sasha made dinner and cleaned up the house to pass the time.
There was a knock on the door and two familiar voices talking and giggling outside. Once Sasha unlocked the door, her eight-year-old daughter barreled into her arms. "Hi Mama!"
"Hey baby," she cooed lovingly, picking her up and ruffling the little girl's afro. "How was school today?"
"Good." Mia grinned, holding up a hand-drawn picture in her hand. "I painted a picture of a butterfly and Miss Ferry gave me a gold star!"
"It looks amazing," Sasha praised, looking over at the toned, petite woman shrugging off her jacket. "Hey girl."
"Hey, Sash." Pamela Winters was Sasha's best friend since middle school. Pam was the Louise to Sasha's Thelma, her sister from another mother. They shared some wild times together over the years and though their lives took different paths, they still remained incredibly close. Sasha honestly didn't know where she would be today without Pam's support.
"Baby, go get cleaned up for dinner, okay?" Sasha said to Mia, watching the little girl bound off into the bedroom. Pam took a seat at the small round kitchen table. "Long ass day," she grumbled.
Sasha reached into the fridge and handed Pam a bottle of water. "What happened? Did you run into another pervert gym goer?" Pam was a personal trainer and dance instructor at a local gym, and both women always had nightmare stories to share about their respective jobs at the end of every day.
"Not this time, thank God. Oh, I forgot to tell you; so I met this guy at the gym a couple of days ago. New customer, only just registered like, a week ago," said Pam. "We had a little chat and I figured he'd be perfect for-"
Sasha rolled her eyes at the mysterious tone of her friend's voice. She met a new guy every day and proceeded to date at least half of them. "Right. Let me know when y'alls wedding's taking place," she interrupted.
"I wasn't checkin' him out for me, smartass," Pam took a sip of her water. "I was checkin' him out for you."
Sasha turned to look at her. "You're kiddin' me, right?" At the look on Pam's face, she nearly choked in realization. "Pamela Winters what have you done?" she demanded.
"Look, I don't expect you to fall instantly in love with the guy. It's just one date."
"Date? Are you serious? You set me up on a date?"
"He's a nice dude. And he ain't exactly shabby neither. His name is Elgin, he's an accountant and he's Ivy League...or so he said."
"Cancel it."
"Aren't you gonna hear me out first?"
"Hell no. His name is Elgin, that's enough to say no. Wouldn't be interested anyway."
Pam threw up her hands. "Now that's just being mean. Discriminating a guy based on his name?"
"You'd do the exact same thing, trick. Cancel it."
"Relax Sash, jeez. Why are you so adamant about it anyway?" Pam asked. Just then, something inside Sasha's open handbag caught her eye. Reaching inside, she plucked out the pink napkin sticking out and looked at it curiously. Her eyes widened. "Who the hell is Joe?"
"Pam!" Sasha cried, horrified. "Give that back!" She snatched at it, but Pam held it out of reach. "Did you get this at work? You been working at the Grill for over a year and not once have you brought back any guy's phone number. I want answers, Morgan! Who's Joe?"
Pam could be stubborn as a mule when she wanted to be. So could she, but right now she was too tired to argue. "Fine. If you must know, Joe is a friend of Reggie's. He's a wrestler apparently. Showed up at the Grill this morning for a visit, to catch up with Reg and stuff."
"Oooh, a wrestler," Pam cooed. She opened up a bowl of chicken salad and stabbed a fork in it. "How hot is he? Them wrestling guys are always hot."
Joe's ash-colored irises and smile flashed before Sasha's eyes. He's beautiful. "He's pretty good-looking," she replied nonchalantly. "He goes by Roman when he's wrestling. Roman something, I can't remember."
Pam nearly fell out of her chair. "Trick, I know you ain't talkin' 'bout Roman Reigns!"
Sasha narrowed her eyes. "I didn't know you watch wrestling."
"Scott, Brandy and Gretchen do," said Pam, referring to her fellow trainers at the gym. "It's all they ever make me friggin' watch at the gym. I seen Roman Reigns, Sash, and that ain't just 'good looking'. That boy is delicious with a capital delish! All them muscles everywhere, that 'all-black-everything' swag, those sexy-ass lips, hair all long and wet..." Pam shivered and fanned herself. "Damn, Sash. I know you got game but you ain't told me you ball like that."
"I ain't got no game," the mother-of-two refuted, though she fought back a smile. "From what I recall, he did all the work."
"Of course, Miss Old-School. So how did it happen? What did he say to you? Details, now!"
Taking a seat at the table, Sasha found herself rehashing the events of the morning, at the supermarket and the Grill. She skipped the part where he'd complimented her as she didn't want to put any weight on it. Pam listened intently, giggling the entire time.
"Girl, you crazy," she laughed. "I'm tellin' you, somebody's gonna beat your ass because of your damn mouth."
"It won't be the first time," she shrugged, "and you know I can handle myself."
Pam nodded. She knew that very well. "Well, the boy was straight-up with you. He obviously knows what he wants," she concluded, clearly impressed by her friend's catch. "So have you called him yet?"
"Nope. Don't wanna."
"Why the hell not? Babe, you saw what he looks like. You tryin' to tell me you turned that fine piece of ass down? Are you gay?"
"That 'fine piece of ass' is a tad too young for me, Pam. He's hot as hell but he's probably like twenty-five," Sasha said flippantly. "Besides, he's probably bored and looking for someone to pass the time with."
"So damn what? That makes things even better for you. Ask any woman; younger men are always an ego boost, not mentioning men that look like that. Like I said, I don't expect you to marry him. If it's just sex he wants, even better. Get in, get off and get out. Simple."
"Pamela. I'm a mom. I'm a little old for one night stands."
"Oh for God's sake." Pam reached for Sasha's phone and started to dial the number until Sasha snatched her phone back. "What the hell are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?" Pam shot back. "This is the first time in forever you've had the chance to inject some adventure back into your life and here you are shittin' all over it. You got a fine-ass man chasing you and you frontin'. So what if you're older than him? That shit don't matter anymore."
"It does to me. I've never been with a younger guy before. It feels weird."
"You shouldn't feel weird. You should be proud. It's not often we old hags catch the eye of the younger types, let alone the sexy ones." Pam exhaled at the look on Sasha's face. "Come on, Sash. The frigid old lady inside you has ruled the roost for long enough. It's time to get that bitch out of you and get something else inside you, if you know what I mean." Pam winked and took a bite of chicken. "Speaking of bitch...where T.K.'s daddy at? You gotten anything from him lately?"
A sound of disgust left Sasha's mouth. The last thing she wanted on her mind was that fool. "You know I don't like askin' him for nothin'."
"You ain't askin' for you. You're asking for your son. His son. It's his duty. You're breaking your back raising his kid on your own while he's off playing happy families with some tramp. Only God knows how much he's owing in child support. You need to meet him, Sash, and settle this. Hell, if you need me to come with you, I will."
The last time those two came face to face, Pam left with a clump of his hair in her fist. "I appreciate it, but I'll handle it myself. Just like I'll handle Joe on my own," said Sasha.
Pam snorted. "Knowing you, the minute I step out that door you'll toss that napkin. You're reading too much into it. When was the last time you had some quality man time? I know it's been a while, and you are overdue." Pushing her salad bowl aside, she leaned back in her seat. "Look girl, it's either Roman or Elgin. Gotta be one. Or you give me Roman's number so I can call him and go tap that ass myself."
"That's not gonna happen."
"Didn't think so. Selfish bitch."
Sasha couldn't help but laugh. No matter what problem she had, Pam never failed to make her feel somewhat better.
Pam pointed her fork at the taller woman. "You better call that man. Have some fun, Sasha. Shiiit. You lucky Brandy's not here. If she knew Roman Reigns is in town and you had his number, she'd slit your throat, take the number and go find him herself."
Sasha's eyes fell back to the pink paper napkin. Pam had always said motherhood had mellowed her. She was right to an extent. Though she still had some spunk left in her, most of it dissipated after Mia was born. So much had changed since high school. So much had changed her, and she wasn't sure the audacious, happy-go-lucky teenager would ever come back. Don't get it wrong, she still liked to have fun, but she was cautious now. Which was why she couldn't bring herself to call Joe. Because there was a probability that somewhere deep inside her, she wanted that caution gone. She craved excitement. Which was ridiculous given that she was a thirty-five-year-old single mother of two children. There was no place for thrills, not when she was her kids' whole world, their only parent, their security.
But maybe Pam and Amber were right. There had to be room for a little plain old fun. Joe seemed like a nice enough guy, and damn if she wasn't attracted to him. She would call him, find out what he wanted, and see where it went from there. No big deal.
Twelve hours had gone by and she still hadn't pulled the trigger. She came to the Grill the next morning and spent the entire time glancing at the door expecting Joe to walk through it. She hated the fact that she was nervous. Ignoring Amber's incessant questioning, she snuck off during her lunch break, staring at the napkin clutched in one hand and her phone in the other. Sasha sighed heavily. Here goes nothing. Punching in the numbers, she listened to the dial tone, one part of her praying he picked up and the other part praying he didn't. She rubbed her sweaty palm over her jeans, willing herself to remain calm.
He picked up on the fourth ring. "Anoa'i." His deep voice reverberated through the phone and through her spine. This is a bad idea.
"Um, hi. Am I speaking to Joe?" she asked
"Who's askin'?"
She understood his apprehension. He probably thought it was a fan. "It's um, Sasha. Reggie's co-worker?" God, she sounded stupid and felt even worse. There was a long pause on the line, and she wondered if the call had been disconnected. Good. Maybe she should hang up and forget it ever happened.
When Joe spoke again, his voice was considerably softer. "I was hoping you would call."
She cleared her throat. She couldn't remember ever being this nervous about anything. "So how are you?"
"Now that I'm talking with you, I'm great."
She couldn't lie; he sure was smooth. And she could tell it came naturally to him; never had to break a sweat with the ladies.
"So how are you Sasha? How's your day been?" he asked.
My God, he sounds even sexier over the phone. "Not bad, actually. The Grill's quiet today, so it's been uneventful," Sasha said aloud. "What about you? Anything exciting happen today?"
"Nah, pretty much the same here. A bit of gym time in the morning, but haven't done much else all day."
Sasha chuckled, and for a moment, it was like chatting with an old friend. "Sounds like a blast."
"It is, trust me," Joe replied with equal humor. Silence fell between them again, and the tension returned. Then he said, "Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?"
Although it had lingered in the back of her mind, the question still came as a shock to her. Play it cool. Play it cool. "Sure," she answered, patting herself on the back for sounding so composed. Thank God she'd switched her shift.
"Great." There was a hint of what sounded like relief in his voice. "I can come pick you up. What time's good for you?"
She couldn't believe it had gotten this far. It was all happening so fast, but all she could say was "Eight sounds good. I won't be at the Grill so I'll have to text you my address."
"Awesome. Eight it is, then."
After another minute or so of idle chit-chat, they hung up, and Sasha stared at her cell phone in a mix of disbelief and excitement. There. She'd done it. Now all she had to do was wait and hope that she hadn't made a mistake.
A/N: Gosh, I hope this chapter didn't seem too lame. I'll make the story more exciting, I promise. Kindly review! And kindly check out my other fic, 'Hounds Undone' if you have the time. Thanks! :)