that. Is that enough for you? But then again he does work hard at that club,” Mercedes reminded her.
“It’s mighty funny that he seems to manage to spend time with his boy Kyle, or wining and dining all those high rollers that comein night after night.” Colette was distracted. “Did you just see that young teenager wink at me?” she asked, turning her head as a young man walked by breaking his neck.
Mercedes didn’t even bother looking back. “That’s a good sign, girl, please. He was probably looking at your ass.”
“Why is it the only asset men see is our ass?”
“Probably because we’re always showing it.” Colette was wearing a pair of J. Crew stretch jeans that looked like they were spread on with a knife.
“I’m sick of being defined by my butt.”
“It’s just a black woman thang. Enjoy it while you can before that rear starts dragging to the back of your knees.”
“Oh, hell no. Never.”
Mercedes asked, “Anyway, what is that like for you just walking into the club, hanging out while you know he’s at work, charming the patrons and working the room?”
“I’m used to it by now. But every now and then we get into it when I spy some chick sniffing up behind him. He thinks I don’t know that he has this system where I’ll be in the VIP area, yet he might have some little honey on the other side, just behind the bar,” Colette said while frowning.
“Oh, is that how he does it?”
“Mercedes, please, like you don’t know.”
Mercedes stopped again. “No, Colette, I don’t. Usually when I go in there I sit my butt down and run my mouth with Mason until it’s time to go. Maybe I would notice if I were in your shoes.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t even notice all of the groupies hovering around Mason.”
“And?”
“And, doesn’t that make you feel, I don’t know, territorial?”
“I don’t think a situation can make you feel territorial. I think you either are, or you’re not. And I’m not. I can’t afford to be, being the wife of a famous athlete. Groupies will always be out there. It’s how your man reacts to them that matters. And that’s something you can’t control.” They started walking back along the other side of the mall. “I trust Mason. Don’t you trust Torino?”
Colette blew a forced breath from her nose. “Not really. I wouldn’t put it past any man to stick his finger in some woman’s coochie under the same table you’re sitting at and not miss a beat.”
“Dang. It sounds like you just don’t trust men in general.”
Colette explained her position. “Oh please, my last boyfriend had two cell phones. One for me and one for his hoochies. I busted his tired butt and slapped the hell out of him and moved on. And these freaks out here don’t even care if a man’s taken or not. They just make it easier for men to play their game. They’d just like to get their hooks in the men we’ve got.”
“Look, you’re not going to get very far without trust, Colette. That goes with the territory because we have some hot ones, the Wilson brothers. I will say that.”
“Well, I plan on keeping mine, thank you very much.”
“Don’t try too hard with your emotional self. That’s usually the very attitude that makes them run away—you know, holding on too tight,” Mercedes said as they stopped at the window of a shoe store.
“Those are nice,” Colette said, pointing to a pair of Matori black spiked pumps. “Not holding on tight enough causes there to be enough room for infiltrators. That’s not about to happen,” Colette said, sounding very serious.
“Okay, Colette. Sounds like you’ve made it your job to keep up with him.”
“Speaking of jobs and to change the subject because you are definitely getting on my nerves, what is my assignment for tomorrow?”
“You didn’t get a call from Vicky yet?”
“No. And I’ve been checking my cell all day.”
“Call her in the morning. I don’t think you have anything until