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Yolonda D Coleman

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Cat Chasing: An Excerpt from Sugar Rush: Love’s Liberation
By Yolonda D Coleman
Saturday, June 09, 2007

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Cat Chasing: An Excerpt from Sugar Rush: Love’s Liberation

I’m such a tease. I should have stayed to chat with Sax. The thrill of the chase is exciting. I felt that if he really wanted to get in touch with me, he’d find another way to convince me to give up my phone number.


“You’re no good, Darlene Hunter. Half the women in Blackplatinum would have killed for Sax to dedicate a song to them and here you are playin’ games. How old will you be next week?” Cita shook her head with closed fists on her imagination.


“Twenty-nine, thank you,” I retorted while doing the colored girl neck roll.


“Actin’ like a twelve year old.”


“Forget you!” I hit Erica on the shoulder.


“Obviously you’ve been doing a lot of forgetting tonight,” a male voice interjected. Sax stood behind me with his arms folded across his chest. I wondered how much of our conversation he heard. Clearly I was caught, but I had to play off my guilt.


“Whatever do you mean?” I covered my mouth with fingers spread out in a fan. Smoothing out his mustache between his thumb and index finger Sax said, “Well, you’re breaching a contract.”


“Oh yeah? How so?” I bit my bottom lip while waiting for his response.


“We had a verbal agreement and you failed to hold up your end of the deal. I played my soul for you and I was left with remnants of your lovely fragrance lingering on a slip of purple paper.” He waved my note in the air. I smiled and raised my eyebrow. “I can either have you sued or you can meet me for

lunch tomorrow, Miss Lady.”


Cita and Erica snickered. I was apprehensive about taking the bait until I looked into Gerald’s eyes. They told a story of triumph, power, and passion. It was as though he beckoned for me to take a stroll through his soul. The energy between us was something else but I had to maintain my composure. I stayed the course.


“I don’t even know your true identity. How about an introduction?”


“My name is Gerald. Gerald A. Washington is my real name,” he said with confidence while extending his hand to shake mine.


“Darlene Hunter.”


The girls were getting restless. “Okay Doll, we’re outta here, gal,” Cita remarked.


“Oh, I’m sorry guys. Gerald, this is Cita and Erica.”


They gave me the whatever stare but smiled at Gerald and shook his hand.


“I’ll see you two tomorrow?”


“Mmmm hmmm. Don’t be late. We have an appointment at the boutique at four,” Erica said with a smirk.


“Do you ladies need me to walk you to your cars?” Gerald started towards them.


“I think we’ll be okay. Thanks anyway,” Cita replied.


“Well, goodnight, ladies.”


“Byyyyyyyye,” Cita and Erica sang in unison while waving and walking away.


There was an awkward stillness between us. The Georgia Avenue traffic was our background music as our eyes met again on some unexplainable cosmic wave. What seemed to be an eternity was actually more like a quickie first thing in the morning, brief but satisfying. Gerald made the first move to break our silence.


“So where’s your car?” Gerald asked while blowing warm air into his fists.


“The Silver Bullet is right there,” I answered and pointed to my Mustang parked near the corners of Georgia and Florida Avenues. We slowly walked in the direction of my ride.


“Thanks for my song. It was nice,” sincere gratitude came from my lips. It really was a beautiful song. The sexiest instrument was played by the sexiest man in Blackplatinum that night, and I was the recipient of his love notes.


“If it was so nice, why’d you leave?”


“I don’t know. I was ready to go home?” I shrugged my shoulders as if to seem uncertain. A smirk appeared on my face. I knew he didn’t buy my excuse.


“You didn’t seem ready to go home a few minutes ago.”


“Oh…well…I guess I was just catching my second wind.”


“Okay. I’ll let you slide with that one. For now. But you have to make it up to me. Lunch. Tomorrow.”


“I have to work.”


“What kinda work do you do on a Saturday, lady?”


“I’m sorry Gerald, I don’t know you well enough to share my personal affairs.”


“Well let me ask you this…”


“I’m listening.”


“Do ordinary people see you enter your place of employment?”




“If I was a tourist taking pictures in your general direction and you showed up in my shots would you sue me?”




“Then sweetheart, what you do is not personal. It’s business and that makes it a public affair, not private.”


“Clever, but I’m still not telling you my line of business.”


We finally reached my vehicle and he leaned against the passenger’s side with folded arms.


“Can you handle all this?” he asked.


I was sure he wasn’t talking about the car. I fed into his innuendo since he needed the satisfaction.


“I can hold my own, Mr. Washington. Don’t let my femininity fool you. Besides, it only has the power of a horse. I can handle the ride,” I said slyly and winked at him.


With a grin, he said, “In that case, let me open the door to your chariot, my lady.” I used my electronic key to unlock the doors, and Gerald rushed to the driver’s side to help me in.


A few ladies who had just exited the café crossed the street. They looked our way. Gerald got the smiles and I got the cutting eyes and whispers. I expected nothing less. I couldn’t help it if I caught his attention. Well, sure I could. If I had come into Blackplatinum with bumper rollers and slippers on all the girls would greet me with laughs. I dress to impress when I cross the threshold of the palace I call home. I

never wanted to miss an opportunity to look good for business or pleasure.


My midnight dream was coming to an end. I wanted to give him my phone number but thought it would be wise to wait. After suffering from a series of tumultuous relationships, I usually give guys a couple of chances to pursue me for a first date. Mr. Washington needed an adventure. I wanted an

orchestrated chase.


The Silver Bullet hummed and I drove off. Dawn was soon to come and I was anxious to see how big the sun would smile if Gerald and I pranced under its rays. Our song didn’t play on this night. I was confident we would have another chance to meet.


Yet, I was patient enough to wait until I put on the right dancing shoes. I only prayed that Gerald was able to keep up with the beat.


Copyright © 2005 by Yolonda D. Coleman.

All Rights reserved.



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