LITMIR.BIZ

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at her computer screen to see that the new e-mail was from Born2Write, whom she now knew to be Lynox. She shook her head, smiling at his refusal to give up his pursuit of her.

      For a minute she thought to just delete the e-mail, but for some reason, that curious spirit had been guiding her decision-making process. A part of her knew that if she cracked open that e-mail, she was as good as cracking open an icky, sticky can of worms. But with that final thought, she opened and read the e-mail anyway. After doing so, she typed a reply. The reply sat on her computer screen for ten minutes before she built up her nerve to hit the send button.

      She’d done it. She’d taken one of the worms from the opened can; she’d baited her hook and cast her pole. Now she sat back in anticipation, waiting on a bite.

      “What am I getting myself into?”

      Chapter Eight

      “You did what?” Tamarra shouted as she and Paige sat on Paige’s living room sofa.

      They’d had many talks on that sofa in the past couple of years. Even though the couch now sat in Blake’s premarital home instead of Paige’s, nothing had changed. They still enjoyed their sista-girlfriend talks all the same.

      Paige and Blake had decided to get rid of Paige’s premarital dwelling and reside at his since it was bigger. But this was just temporary until they could get their dream house built. That was one of the reasons Blake was working exceptionally hard. He wanted to make sure that they could afford the house they desired. He didn’t want to end up like so many couples who had bitten off more house than they could afford. The two agreed that they wanted to enjoy their residence and not be so burdened by paying the note on it that they couldn’t appreciate it. Blake, especially, had been adamant about that.

      As a very small child, after his father was seriously injured on the job and confined to a wheelchair, his mother grew weary of taking care of him. She grew weary and tired of taking care of them—her husband and her only son. As quiet as it was kept, she’d grown weary of taking care of her only daughter too; but because she was a female, Blake had supposed, his mother felt forced to continue to care for her. So, that’s what she did: one day while his father was in the television room and little Blake was napping, his mother scooped up his sister and left. Before doing so, she’d served his father a tuna sandwich, potato chips, applesauce, and grape Kool-Aid. She’d left Blake’s in the refrigerator; then she vanished as if she’d never been there.

      Blake’s father never tried to locate her, and he never divorced her. To this day, Blake hadn’t tried to find her either. He’d been only three years old when she left. He only vaguely remembered her or his slightly older sister. He didn’t miss what he never recalled having—or so he had convinced himself.

      He and his father lived off of his dad’s social security benefits for a while. Then eventually, after years of fighting in court, a jury finally awarded his father a huge settlement from the job in which he’d been injured. With that money, his father moved them from their house into a nice little, affordable condo. Nurses and home health aides came in weekly to assist them, but Blake had learned to care for his father and insisted on doing the bulk of the care.

      By the time Blake was eighteen, he’d been awarded a partial scholarship to Bowling Green College. His father paid all of his remaining expenses, including room and board. Despite the many challenges Blake’s father had suffered in his life, he saw to it that he and his son had the best they could possibly have. They never lived above their means, but always had enough and then some. Blake was truly inspired by his father, who died shortly after Blake graduated college. Blake vowed that he’d walk in his father’s footsteps and persevere in life. His dedication and perseverance were just some of the things Paige admired about Blake.

      The couch was one of the few things he’d allowed her to keep, vowing their new life together called for new things, including furniture. After a week of going back and forth, the couch stayed. Blake had only given in because it had been a gift to Paige from her parents.

      Paige hugged one of the throw pillows on the couch. “I kissed Norman,” she confessed again to Tamarra. She sat giggling and looking all starry-eyed like she didn’t have the sense that the good Lord had given her. “Well, actually he kissed me. Come to think of it, we kinda sorta kissed each other. On second thought—”

      “Blah, blah, blah,” Tamarra interrupted. “All I want to know is, was there a kiss?”

      Paige paused and then screeched, “Yes.” She buried her face in the pillow in giddy embarrassment. “But it was an accident. All he really meant to do was kiss me on the cheek, but then I turned to say something to him and our lips just met.”

      Tamarra sat back and relaxed. “Oh, thank God.” She let out a deep breath. “I thought you were talking about a real kiss. Girl, you had my heart racing.” She playfully swatted Paige’s hand, but then got serious, sitting up straight. “But do you mind me asking why you seem to be all in La-La Land about this?”

      “I’m not really in La-La Land,” Paige said. “I just thought it was cute. I mean, it was like a scene out of a movie. I mean, who would have thought it? Me, attracting a white boy?”

      “What are you talking about? You said you’ve dated a couple of Caucasian men before.”

      “I know, but it’s different with Norman. In all the years I’ve known him, he’s never once showed the slightest interest in me. Besides that, he usually goes for the small, model type girls.” Paige chuckled and observed her body. “And trust me, I’m nobody’s model.”

      Tamarra sat staring at Paige for a moment.

      “What?” Paige asked when Tamarra didn’t speak, but only stared at her.

      Tamarra was wondering if Paige was for real, if she’d been for real all this time about who she was—about being happy with her size. Was she always making it a point to mention her weight, make light of it or express how confident she was in the skin she was in because she really meant it? Was she doing it because she wanted to believe it herself? Tamarra had always been led to believe that Paige was cool with being a member of the “Big Girls’ Club.” Everyone around her had. She never gave them a reason to believe otherwise. But now, at this very moment, Tamarra thought she was starting to see a crack in Paige’s exterior, allowing her real feelings to seep through. She wanted to speak on it, but the Holy Spirit had seasoned her lips, silencing her.

      “I can tell you’re thinking something,” Paige told Tamarra. “Come on. What gives?”

      Tamarra thought about going against that voice inside of her. “Oh, nothing,” she replied, opting for obedience.

      “Like I was saying, because you know me, I’m not only a member of the ‘Big Girls’ Club,’ I’m the president, honey.” Paige stood up and did a peacock walk. “And proud of it.”

      “Are you really?” Those words slipped out of both Tamarra’s thoughts and mouth.

      Paige stopped in her tracks. “And what do you mean by that?”

      “Nothing,” Tamarra perked up with a jolly tone. “I just meant are you really serious about…you know…this whole Norman thing.” What a nice save.

      “Oh, girl, I’m just messing with you.” Paige swooshed her hand and flopped back down on the couch, grabbing the throw pillow she’d been toying with. “I just thought it was…cute, that’s all. But anyway—” Before Paige could finish her sentence, her cell phone rang. She retrieved it and looked down at the caller ID. “Hmm, speak of the devil.” She smiled before answering it.

      “And the devil appears,” Tamarra whispered under her breath, knowing that something serious was brewing. But who was she kidding? She had her own fires to put out, and with the inferno she envisioned about to consume Paige’s life, she didn’t know if there was enough water to go around.

      Chapter Nine

      “Mother, I don’t know what kind of game

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