"This has been my dream since I went on that historically black college tour!" The girl on the side of me practically beamed. I sighed and lugged my suitcases down the hall to my new apartment. I hoped she wasn't my new roommate. Her constantly cheeriness could work a nerve that I didn't really have right now, still she was nice enough but the high school daze was over for me and I don't really want to room with a girl who was going to join every club and organization that she could. Damn, already here for five minutes and already I had pegged one person as the type. I sighed again and looked at her. She was pretty in that 'I'm almost perfect.' type. Perfect hair, perfect teeth, all of that was almost acceptable in small dosages but annoying in large quantities. I smiled thinly at her to let her know that conversation on her part was not appreciated. Either she saw it and ignored me or she didn't hear me at all and kept chattering away. I thought it was perhaps the sound of her voice was drowning out all other sounds.
Since she didn't get the message, I turned my head and began looking for my apartment number, 723. Shit, I forget to ask Danny? Candy? (What the hell was her name?) What her room number was. I refuse to let her be my roommate or neighbor. "Say, what room are you in?"
She looked puzzled for a second, as if the thought of other people talking to her was a strange concept. "Oh girl, its 701, I'm glad you caught that or I would have missed my room."
Couldn't have that now could we? I thought, but what I said was, "Hey, girl no problem. I'm more then willing to help out when I can." She turned into her room and shut the door in one fell swoop and I was left to lug my case down what seemed to be isle after isle of carpeted floor until I came face to face with my room; face to face with the last college I'll ever go to (I had transferred from University of Houston) . I really just assumed since so many black girls had aspirations to go to one of these (black colleges) , that the apartments would be a lot more glamorous then this (I sort of expected electronic keys computers in every room, you know more modern) . Still, like they say you got to take what you get.
I still hadn't unlocked the door so I had no idea what the hell laid behind the thing. I sat down the case I had under my arm and fished for the key in my pocket. Just as soon as I locate my pocket. Damn these modern clothes. I grinned when I found the little gold flecked key and inserted it into the lock.
My luck was not with me I still ended up getting the type. I saw a museum to Greek letters and I winced. I really don't want to be here. I went to the opened door saw that it was empty of Geek, er, uh; Greek paraphernalia and I decided this was my room. Full size bed, a great view of a brick wall and lots of white walls, my own private sanction. I looked at the full length mirror that the university provided. I had dropped my luggage long ago and checked my self out in the looking glass.
I was a track star (I run the fifty and the hundred) and had a great body. I was five ten without my heeled boots. I have a curly black afro (I have great hair I just don't know what to do with it.) , currently put up in a ponytail. My eyes are deep brown and my brows are arched. I have a deep hazel nutty brown skin color and I am generally described as very beautiful. Beautiful not pretty. I heard the door open and close. It was probably my room mate, I gathered this since she felt it imperative to come in my room. She was cute and quirky and emitted the Sigma pride. I gave an involuntary wince and shook her hand. Debra was sweet but annoying also. This is when the thought struck me. If I am to tolerate this (Greeks and this damn college) I know I am going to have to get rip roarin' drunk.
I got down to the business of planning who to get royally drunk tonight. I had made a great move from Texas to Georgia and lost all my friends and was going to be replaced by Greek Geek androids. I could not take this, so I asked Debra where a local bar was. She told me there was one up the street. Since it was Saturday and I had no problem with waking up with a hang-over on Sunday, I figured what the hell.
It was six o'clock when I decided to get dress. I pulled on my Luis Vutton black dress that had only one strap that crossed my left shoulder. It connected to the other side but left my whole back bare. No bra, this dress wouldn't allow it. Thankfully I was a 34-B or I couldn't have gotten away without a bra, a pair of green and black thongs, damn things gave me a wedgie but you cannot wear ordinary undies with this damn dress. It started to cover my behind but just barely. It stopped a hairs breath away from being illegal. I took my Gucci shoes that are more strap then shoe and shucked then suckers on too. I applied lip gloss, eye shadow, a few twists to my hair and spritz of Happy and I was on my way.
After getting lost twice I found a club that is typically known as a hole in the wall. I had turned down a few offers and I sat down across the bar from a white man that looked like the white guy from Pink's 'There You Go' Video, you know the one she hooks up with at the end. Tall, bald headed with a goatee and so good looking that he makes you doubt his sexuality. I could tell by his arms that he worked out. Black shirt, jeans, mmm, a workin' man. He smiled and his deep dimples flashed across his cheeks. He had a great smile. "Hey, sweetheart wanna drink?"
I was stone sober and trying to rectify that. I smiled back at him "Sure."
"So sweetheart what are ya having." God, I loved that good ol' boy twang. It was almost gone in Texas, being steadily replaced by the sophisticated eastern talk.
He was smiling again at me and I realized I hadn't answered his question. "Uh a beer." I hate beer, its tastes some where between dirty water and bitter fruit juice. He was grinning entirely too much, like he knew something about me. He leaned over and I could smell his cologne it was crisp and spicy, "You don't drink do you?" It was then that I noticed the way that he pronounced his words so correct that he could have been from the East. That kind of caught me off guard that I looked at him again. He was young, year or two older then my twenty. He had blue eyes and judging from his eyebrows, black hair. He also had a black cowboy hat on the stool next to him. He put it on and looked at me. He looked great with it on. He touched my cheek. I pulled back and blushed. Obviously his touching me was an attention getter. I guess I was looking at him to hard. "I know you don't want a beer. Hey dude you gotta a soda? What kind do you drink."
"Nothing carbonated."
"How 'bout a glass of lemonade?"
I smiled I liked it when a man shows initiative. "I would love one."
As he placed the orders for one beer and one cranberry (there wasn't any lemonade) I asked his name. He tipped back his hat and smiled "My name is Clay."
"Great a good old fashioned white name."
He laughed "So what are you doing here? No offense but you don't look the bar type." The orders came and I took a sip of the juice.
I smiled back. "I'm not but I'm new here so I figured I might as well get a hunt. Why are you here?"
"Uh, to which question? Why am I here or why am I in the bar?"
