He's Just A Friend Read Free Page A

for finding the right man. I am going to get married and I am going to have a baby.”
    Twenty minutes later, Fancy drew herself from the comfort of her bath and toweled off. Carefully she styled her hair, smoothing each layer of every track, then tossed the soft jet-black tresses behind her neck. The layered edges dangled below her shoulder blades. Sparkles shimmered in the silky platinum of a deep V-cut halter gown that delicately clung to the shapely curves of her breasts, hips, and thighs. Fancy turned around, admired herself in the full-length mirror, and smiled. “Now that’s a fabulous ass if I must say so myself.” Adding the finishing touch, she brushed on her M.A.C. Chai lip gloss.
    The cordless phone rang again. This time exactly at ten. The programmed number from the building’s call box registered so Fancy buzzed Desmond in and grabbed her full-length white mink.
    â€œHey, you look great!” Desmond said, stepping inside.
    Fancy closed her eyes and enjoyed Desmond’s warm embrace. Careful not to snag her diamond earrings on her coat, she tilted her head and whispered in his ear, “Thanks, baby.” She meant thanks for being her friend. And thanks for taking her out again this New Year’s Eve.
    â€œYou look extra handsome tonight, baby. I’mma hafta claw those desperate divas off my man.” Fancy placed her fingertips on Desmond’s forehead. Slowly she traced over his temples, along his jawbone, down his neck, and tugged his tuxedo lapel. Fancy smiled, because in order to take her out, Desmond had canceled plans with his so-called girlfriend Carlita.
    Fancy hated being alone on New Year’s Eve and harbored no remorse that Carlita wasn’t the one going out with Desmond. Fancy also hated blue. Blue jeans. Blue sherbet. Blue nail polish. Contacts. Robin eggs. Bubble-gum. She especially disliked dating blue-collar workers, which was the main reason why Desmond could never be more than just a friend.

    â€œWhat’s your boy Tyronne up to tonight?” Fancy asked, focusing on the beautiful holiday lights outlining the buildings along San Francisco’s skyline. Tyronne was another man with big dreams and no money. As long as the cola company kept producing beverages, Tyronne would continue delivering sodas. Fancy’s stomach growled, disrupting her thoughts. Damn, the oysters. Oh, well, she’d put them in the refrigerator so she could eat them for breakfast. It was probably best she hadn’t eaten them because she definitely would’ve ended her platonic relationship with Desmond and fucked him real good after the gala if she had.
    â€œYou know Tyronne. Probably the life of the party at somebody’s house,” Desmond said, holding Fancy’s hand tighter while driving with his other hand on top of the steering wheel.
    In a special way, Fancy admired Desmond. He was tall and good-looking. Desmond’s innocent brown eyes shone under his long curly lashes. Whenever his thin mustache stretched across his face, Fancy saw the dimple in his right cheek. The seat belt was tailored to his flat stomach. Desmond was one of five men Fancy kept on her carry-over list for next year. She couldn’t imagine life without Desmond yet she couldn’t envision being his wife. Was money and prestige really that important? More significant than a man’s character? Or his willingness to love?
    Breaking the silence, Desmond asked, “What’re SaVoy and Tanya doing tonight?”
    â€œSaVoy, church. Tanya—she’s going out with some guy she just met named William.” Fancy smiled at Desmond and reverted back to her thoughts.
    The men who were fortunate to be on her regular dating schedule were now Fancy’s sponsors. Adam sponsored her rent, Tony sponsored her Top Notch hair weaves, manicures, and pedicures, and Steven sponsored her wardrobe. That’s how Fancy balanced her budget. She determined what needed to be