While strategically placing hors d’ oeuvres on the table Shamon sings along with the music. 

Mherri unknowingly pushed reggae music into her spirit. Its uplifting qualities are unlike any other music. For her not listening to anything other than gospel was a big step. Gospel helps her praise. But reggae does something to her soul that’s unexplainable.

This month’s club meeting is in her home. Girlz Do It Better, or G.D.I.B. as they refer to it, started in high school. She and some close friends required help to cope with their teen year issues. They didn’t want to discuss them with their parents. Coming from open-minded parents Shamon is the exception. The girlz are all from wealthy backgrounds with extremely busy parents who didn’t have the time to listen to their kids’ mediocre problems while dealing with corporate take overs, stock plummets and the like. It was she who came up with the idea of the club. At the encouragement of her mother who was always there to guide her daughter in the mentality of giving. Over the years they were maturing into intellectual women. Well, excluding Ida. They talk about everything from relationships to personal hygiene. She extended a membership to Mherri when she became her permanent hair stylist. Kia eventually worked herself into the group.

The doorbell rings once, twice, and three times simultaneously before she could get to it. Without opening the door, she already knows who is on the other side.

“I hope your ass gets electrocuted doing that shit,” Kia jokes just as the door is opening.

“What’s up yo?” Mherri says in her B-boy tone customarily going straight to the food table.

They’ve all grown to have a special dish they would make for the meeting. Mherri places her club famous baked curry chicken and macaroni and cheese pans on the table. “I’m hungry!” she exclaims.

“We’re shocked!” Kia replies, crutching it as she makes her way over to the couch.

The kids go running off to their designated playroom. Ida enters a few minutes later announcing she has forgotten napkins. She can’t cook without a supervisor. Whenever she tried the fire department usually showed up, so they elected her to be the condiments and the like person. But of course, that too proves to be challenging because every month she forgets something.

The meeting goes on as usual. Mherri picks on everybody. Shamon compares everything to her relationship with Shean. Kia cries. This has become her norm since the Rodney incident. Ida spends most of the night saying “huh” or “what,” Shamon heads straight for her jetted tub when they’re all gone. These meetings are beginning to sometimes wear hard on her. Mostly because of all the relationship crap she has to listen to. A bath is usually the only thing to unwind her.

Shamon Black is only twenty-two years old. But since the friends she has are mostly a few years older she sometimes mentally steps outside of her age bracket. Being seven months away from college graduation and heading to law school is another contributor to her growing weariness. This has already been her most difficult year. She decided to take a part time job as a paralegal assistant to get some on the job experience. She spends most of the day at school and three days out of the week at the office. She hardly has time for Shean. She regretted taking the job only for that reason. She wants to quit but Shean insists she work through it. “I don’t want to get in between you and your career,” she hears his voice say. She can’t understand why he doesn’t seem to miss being with her as much. The bubbles hug her curves while she feels the hands of the water massage her muscles to the point of relaxation.

“What’s up baby?” Shean greets her walking through her condo’s bedroom door.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“No, but I am trying to give you a sex attack,” he gets off his chest referring to her naked status.

“Shean, I just got out the bathtub. I don’t want to get sweaty.”

“So, are you telling me no?” he wonders then places kisses on her slippery back.

She decides to retract her previous statement.

“Well, we can always shower together,” she states turning to help him undress while he slides his tongue over her body curves.

She thinks of all the great sex they’ve experienced. She knows she’s whipped. She’s not ashamed of it. He’s hanging pretty low. Plus, he’s established his own wealth but managed to be down to earth. Shamon wasn’t used to that.

She was raised in Palos Verdes. Her dad owns a chain of medical supplies stores. Her mother is a District Attorney. The only kind of people, men and women, she ever attracted were those who wanted to use her for her financial advantages. Or those who had money but had their noses so far up in the air they were causing air traffic concerns. She didn’t have many friends per her choice. Questions are beginning to stir regarding her feelings towards some members in the club. Mherri is her favorite hair dresser when she isn’t busy being a business owner. They have a solid relationship. She admires Mherri for her inner strength and forwardness. But she is a little too much too swallow sometimes. Shamon grew to realize that Mherri is Mherri, nothing more. Kia is the whore of the group. Even though her current crutches situation should stall activities she still manages to be quite whorish.

Shamon feels she’s way too conservative to deal with Kia’s type. Naturally they don’t have the best relationship in the group. Ida is perhaps her best friend in the crew. They met one day Ida was lost on campus during their freshman year. She isn’t the smartest person on earth, but she has such a generous heart that you can’t help but like her. Shamon probably considers Shean her truest best friend. Even though he sometimes is inconsiderate of her feelings and usually didn’t want to hear her “female shit,” as he refers to it. He has been there through all she’s gone through since meeting adult life as a college student. She senses he’s in a good mood, so she decides to get some G.D.I.B. stuff off her chest.

“I think Kia needs to see a therapist,” she reveals as Shean positions his arms to form a blanket around her in an after-sex position. “I mean she’s been saying some really outlandish things lately. I think that head trauma is affecting her more than they said it would.”

“Yeah?” he asks dosing off.

“Granted she’s had a rough life and this whole Rodney thing hasn’t exactly taken her down a better road. I don’t know. I guess I was blessed being raised by parents who love me and wanted the best life for me. I can’t imagine what’s she thinking but I do know she’s changed.”

“Well, maybe she’ll learn a lesson from that ass whipping.”

“Shean, that’s not nice,” she scolds.

“Come on bun you can’t front,” he says with his thick New York accent.

“I’m not trying to front,” she properly replies. “But he didn’t have any right beating her like that. Regardless of what type of person she is.”

“So, why don’t you talk to her?”

“You know we don’t have a great relationship. I feel for what she’s going through. I just miss the old Kia. Not the stripper slutty Kia. But the funny happy chic she used to be.”

Shamon pictures Kia’s reaction to her, of all people, saying something personal to her. Shamon actually feels the blow to her cheek from the bottom of the crutch she is sure Kia would hit her with. She immediately decides no is the best answer to that question. Kia makes no secret she is no fan of Shamon’s well-to-do lifestyle and “white” black girlfriends. In Kia’s mind any black chick that doesn’t sound ghetto is fake and trying to be white. Shamon grew tired of defending herself to Kia. That mentality surfaced from the productivity of ignorance. Shamon attempted to educate Kia on the intellect of black folks. However, Kia’s bus hasn’t come to that stop yet…

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