The Night Before Thirty Read Free

her.
    “Welcome! We have over twenty-five ales and the best steak north of the Ohio!” she said.
    “Hi,” Catara said calmly as she pulled off her gloves and unbuttoned her coat. “I'm meeting a friend here.”
    “I bet you're talking about Rondell. He told me to keep an eye out for you. Nice guy. He's over in the corner booth.”
    “Thank you,” Catara responded, and then rubbed her sweaty hands together. “Would you happen to have a napkin?”
    “Sure!” the hostess replied. She walked over to the bar and grabbed a few, then bounced back over and handed them to Catara.
    “Thanks,” Catara said, then patted her nose.
    “By the way, the ladies' room is to your right. You can stop in and freshen up if you'd like before you go over to meet Rondell.”
    “Thank you,” Catara responded, grateful the hostess had keyed in on her need. She walked into the ladies' room and stood in front of the mirror, checking to make sure her face was still made up. Usually when she wore makeup, she applied it lightly, and when it wore off, she didn't fuss about reapplying, but tonight was different; she wanted to make a good impression.
    After touching up her makeup she still felt musty, so she unbuttoned her shirt, got a paper towel, wet it, and patted under her arms. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and couldn't help but find humor in her actions.
The things we do for men!
She laughed, then reached in her purse and pulled out a trial-size deodorant and body spray.
    She put everything back into place and went out to get her man. As she approached Rondell, she reminded herself again just how special she was:
I am big and beautiful, my hair is fly and my breasts are luscious. I am a fashion designer, and even if Rondell doesn't see my beauty, the world soon will through my clothing line.
    “Catara. Hey lady, you made it,” he said, and got up from his seat, waiting for her to come close. He stood six-foot-one and was thin and lanky, with a wild, unkempt sandy-brown Afro, and he had on his signature black pants and white tank top. His leather jacket was draped over the back of the chair.
    She walked up to him and smiled wide. “Rondell, it's been too long!”
    “I agree,” he said and reached out to hug her. She had forgotten how he towered over her. Instead of reaching around his neck to hug him, she opted to squeeze his waist.
    “I've missed you,” she said while in his embrace.
    “Let's sit down,” he said as they pulled away. They took their seats.“I'm starved,” he said, and flipped through his menu. “I already know what I want.”
    “I'm really not hungry,” she replied. A combination of being with Rondell again, worrying about what events the evening would bring, and wanting to seem appealing had taken away her appetite.
    “You mean to tell me you're not hungry?” he said, sounding surprised and just a tiny bit frustrated.
    “Positive,” Catara replied with confidence. “But I'll get a side salad and soda.”
    “Salad?” he shook his head and frowned. “Dig it. Well, it's on you. When the waitress comes you can order for both of us. I want the artichoke and spinach dip appetizer and the rib and fries for the entrée. I'll be back. I need to take a leak.” Rondell shoved his fingers in his mane, picked through it, and slid out of the booth.
    As she watched him walk away, she remembered just why, when he'd stopped calling, she didn't try to contact him.
Why should he be any different tonight?
she thought. She went ahead and ordered for the both of them when the waiter came. She asked if she could have a side salad as her entrée. The waiter rolled his eyes and said, “A side salad must accompany a meal. Only garden salads can be purchased as entrées.”
    “Well, I only want a Coke!” she replied matter-of-factly. “Add a side salad to my date's meal.”
    “Whatever you say,” he responded, grabbing the menus from the edge of the table and walking away.
    Several minutes passed, and the