Pamela Yaye - Other People's Business

“No, no, that’s all right. I need to walk off the four slices of cheesecake I had. I’ll call you tomorrow, girl.” With a quick hug to her best friend, and a small wave to L.J., Yvette continued down the driveway and strolled through the open gates.

“Thanks for walking me to my car. It was really thoughtful of you,” Autumn said when they reached her car a half-minute later.

“I should be thanking you.” When her face clouded over, he said, “For saving me from Shante. I’d been trying to shake that woman all night!” They shared a laugh. “Why don’t I show you my deep gratitude by taking you out for a dinner? Say tomorrow night, around eight o’clock?”

Autumn couldn’t hold back her smile. “Very smooth.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “What? You have to eat and I have to eat. So, why can’t we do it together?” Hoping to persuade her, he offered, “You can choose the restaurant. Chinese. Mexican. Italian. Anywhere you want.”

More laughter passed between them. Autumn didn’t know much about L.J., but she liked that he could make her laugh. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but she couldn’t go out with him. It just didn’t seem right. She was fresh out of a relationship and he was, well…visiting. He didn’t call Washington home and before she knew it L.J. would be returning to Atlanta. Why bother? Autumn was set to decline his offer graciously when she saw Shante hustling and bustling down the driveway like an out-of-control wheelbarrow. The woman was dangerously close to toppling over, and Autumn was secretly praying for the fall.

L.J. held open the door for her. “So, what do you say?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Autumn kicked off her sandals and hurled them into the backseat. She gestured with her finger behind him. “Here comes reason number one.”

L.J. didn’t need to turn around to know who was coming. Shante. His chin dropped so low it was sitting on his chest. The woman reminded him of his pet rottweiler, Keys. She was frisky, loved chasing things and was hard to cuddle with. Shante wasn’t his type. In fact, she was the complete opposite of the women he normally dated. He needed to find a polite way to let Shante know he wasn’t interested. As L.J. watched Autumn’s car pull out of the driveway, he wished she was the one hanging all over him instead of Shante.

“The quickest way to get over a man is to find a new one,” Melissa explained, marching in beat to music blaring from the television, “and I know just the man to cure you of the funk that you’ve been in.”

Autumn shot Melissa a leave-me-alone look. She retightened the elastic band in her hair and guzzled down some water. It was Saturday afternoon and the two friends were working out in the Grisbeys’ fitness room. Autumn reset the stationary bike for another thirty minutes, balanced the latest issue of Essence magazine on her lap and started peddling.

“All I’m saying is, get out of your damn apartment. You’ve been holed up in your place like you’re under house arrest and you’ve turned down all my invitations to get together. Shutting yourself away and moping around the house isn’t going to make you feel better, Autumn.”

Autumn continued reading. If she gave Melissa a chance, she knew her best friend would slip into Oprah mode and Autumn wasn’t in the mood for any more advice. Since breaking up with Tyrell, she had been getting plenty of unwanted counsel, and she had finally reached her breaking point. “I’m fine. I just don’t feel like hanging out, that’s all.”

Mimicking Tae Bo instructor Billy Blanks, Melissa set her feet in a defensive stance and raised her balled hands to chin level. Alternating between waist-high kicks and throwing punches that would make Lennox Lewis proud, Melissa grunted along with the ten on-screen participants and the fitness guru. Without breaking her kicking rhythm, Melissa tossed Autumn a look over her left shoulder. “Well, do you at least find him attractive?”

“Who?” she asked, knowing full well who Melissa was referring to.

“Who else?” Melissa replied with a snort. “L.J. Do you think he’s good looking?”

Do I ever, Autumn confessed, but not out loud so Melissa could hear. Autumn hadn’t seen him since the dinner party, more than two weeks ago, but she could remember every detail of his ruggedly handsome face. Wide eyebrows set above deep, slanted eyes with copper specks; a broad, slightly uneven nose and thick, kissable lips. His clean-shaved head appealed to her inner bad girl and his well-sculpted body testified to all the hours he must spend at the gym. The man had some really thick muscles on him.

Autumn wiped her towel across her face and then down her neck. “He’s all right.”

“All right!” Melissa shook her head in disbelief. “Broccoli’s all right. A knock-off Prada purse is all right. Vacationing in Cancun during spring break is all right. But men who look like L.J. are not all right.” She turned her attention away from the fifty-two-inch plasma-screen TV. “Confidence and intensity are unbelievably sexy, and L.J. has both in heaps. He has a gravity about him and he knows it, but not in a way that makes him arrogant, like Tyrell.”

Autumn nodded. “I agree, but it doesn’t really matter what I think of L.J. ’cause I’m not interested in him.”

Throwing a flurry of punches and following them up with back-to-back front kicks, Melissa grunted some more. “That’s your problem right there, Autumn. You play life safe. You do the same thing day in and day out and you take no risks whatsoever.”

Autumn made a face.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s true. You’re too busy planning and organizing your life to actually live it. You go with the flow and don’t ever trouble the waters. What’s so wrong with going out with him or anyone else who asks you out?” When Autumn didn’t respond, she went on. “I should just keep my mouth shut. Do what works for you. You’re a settler. Always have been. Always will be. So, don’t try new things, or meet new people or step out of your comfort zone.”

Autumn didn’t want to exchange verbal blows with Melissa, but when she continued ripping into her, she couldn’t keep the lid on her frustration. “So, what do you suggest I do?” she asked not bothering to look up from the magazine. “Throw myself at L.J.’s feet like your shameless cousin?”

The image of Shante hanging all over L.J. like a praying mantis flashed in Autumn’s mind. She gripped the handlebars and began peddling with renewed energy. God, I couldn’t stand that woman. Shante Patterson was the most self-minded, conniving person Autumn had ever met. She had no respect for herself or the plight of professional women. The daily struggles of career women fighting to be treated equally in a male-dominated work force were foreign to the onetime model. Shante batted her eyelashes, wiggled her hips and flaunted her curves, and when she didn’t get what she wanted, she reminded people who her prominent family was.

Autumn would never dream of using her father’s name to advance her career. When her father had learned that she had accepted the junior accountant position at Monroe, his eyebrows had creased like old linen pants. “I golf on a regular basis with some of the company’s board of directors, you know. One call from me and they’ll see that you get a better position.” Autumn had refused. She had decided long ago that she was going to make a name for herself in the accounting world without her father’s influence or his endless list of connections, and as tempting as the offer was, she had turned it down. She’d had her fair share of crappy, low-paying jobs after graduating from college, but she had never once asked her father for help.