Diamond Playgirls. Miasha

“On MySpace.”

      “Girl, please. Don’t be embarrassed about that. I’ve met many men on MySpace who checked out. I love it!”

      Dior grew excited. “Really? Well, let me pull up my page real quick and read these messages of his that I saved. Tell me what you think and tell me what I should write back.”

      Gordon walked behind Dior’s chair while she logged on to her MySpace page on her computer. The two of them read all of the messages between Dior and Mr. Good Black Man from the first to the last.

      “Um, um, um, he sounds spicy!” Gordon said.

      “Does that mean gay?” Dior worried.

      “No! Oh, God no. I would have said tangy if I meant that. He’s straight—definitely straight. Now, everything else, like how white his teeth are and the size of his penis, those are all up for grabs, you know what I mean. But it’s worth a chat and chew,” Gordon instructed.

      “So you think I should pursue him?” Dior asked.

      “Uh-huh. If you don’t, I will,” Gordon teased.

      Dior gave Gordon the look. “You know that’s a sensitive subject.”

      “I’m just playing.” Gordon laughed. “Okay, back to business,” he said, getting serious again. “When he writes you back, no matter what he says, you reply by asking him out tomorrow for Valentine’s Day. Now, don’t say Valentine’s Day in the message. Just say Thursday. You don’t wanna sound too mushy asking him to be your Valentine. Plus, this will be a clear sign of whether or not he’s taken. Because if he says I have something to do and asks to make it for another day, then the truth of the matter is, he is spending V-day with his primary. And I’m not talkin’ ’bout a doctor. You keepin’ up?” he asked, looking up at Dior.

      Dior nodded her head.

      “Now, if he accepts the date for Thursday, then you propose to meet him at MoBay—”

      “You know about MoBay?” Dior cut in. “That’s one of his favorite clubs.”

      “I know, I just read all his info, remember?” Gordon began writing something on a Post-it note. “It’s a nice little spot in Harlem and they have jazz musicians play there on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. But you don’t want to go on Friday or Saturday, why?” He turned to Dior.

      “Because I specifically want to spend Valentine’s Day with him.”

      “Because why?” Gordon further tested.

      “Because that’ll tell me that he’s single.”

      “Right! Ooh, Ms. Dior, you learn so quickly. I can do this with you all the time.”

      Dior hugged him enthusiastically. “You know, you’re my first real friend here in New York. And I’ve been here over a month.”

      “Really? You haven’t made any girlfriends yet?” Gordon asked in surprise.

      Dior shook her head. “I’ve got three women my age who live in my building, but they all seem very busy and maybe not too friendly.”

      Gordon waved his hand. “Well, child, don’t even worry about it. Every girl needs a male gay friend and now you got one. Now go ahead and handle your business.”

      Dior grinned and took the neon-pink Post-it note that Gordon had given her. She glanced over it and saw that it had the name and address of MoBay on it. It also had Good Luck written on it with a smiley face beside it.

      Gordon gave Dior a hug and headed back to his office. “Don’t let one monkey stop ya show, girl!”

      Dior glanced down when her cell started vibrating. When she saw it was Chris’s number she turned the phone off without hesitation.

      After that, she went on Gucci.com. She knew she had work to do and she had every intention on getting to it, but first she had to clear her head. And even though Gordon’s talk did her some good, a new Gucci pocketbook would top it off. That would make her forget all about Chris. And in order for her to get back into her work, that was exactly what she needed. Besides, if everything went according to Gordon’s plan, she would have a hot date the next day for which she would need something new to wear, and every woman knew that the pocketbook was the staple to any wardrobe. So let’s start there, she thought.

      After work Dior went inside a quaint boutique that had caught her attention a few weeks before. There were two women in there, one behind the counter and the other greeted her at the door.

      “Hello, welcome to Chell-C’s. If you need help with anything please let me know,” the medium-height, skinny, pale woman said.

      “I’d like to see that dress in the window,” Dior told the woman.

      “Oh, let me get it for you. Would you like to try it on?”

      “What size is it?”

      “It’s a zero,” the woman responded.

      “Yes, please.”

      The woman took the dress off the mannequin and carried it to the dressing room in the back of the store. She neatly laid it across the plush lounge chair inside the dressing room and held the curtain up allowing Dior inside.

      “Let me know if you need help putting it on,” the woman said as she exited the dressing room.

      Dior stripped down to her stockings, panties, and bra. She slowly stepped into the knee-length long-sleeved dress that seemed to sit perfectly on every inch of her body. The fabric felt good against Dior’s skin and the deep floral print looked rich and made a statement. The dress was surely a one-of-a-kind. It was just right for Valentine’s Day at MoBay, sexy and bold, yet classy and sophisticated. Dior looked at herself in the mirror, turning to see her back and each side to make sure the dress looked good from every angle. Then she looked at the tag to see just how much it would set her back. Five hundred and fifty dollars, she read. Then her thinking cap went on as she rationalized spending that kind of money on a dress when she had a world of other priorities.

      This is the dress that I could be meeting my future husband in. It has to be something that stands out from the rest and it has to say all the right words. Now, I could easily go to Bebe or BCBG and get a cute dress for half the money, but I’d be risking walking into MoBay dressed like somebody else or two other people for that matter. Everybody shops at those stores. This is a first impression and it must be a lasting one, Dior thought.

      She gave herself one last look and one last justification before she decided to take the dress. Before paying for it, though, she asked what the store’s return policy was. She wanted to make sure she could get a refund if Mr. Good Black Man didn’t accept her invitation. Everything worked in her favor and she paid for the dress with her American Express card and left the store. I’ll pay the bill off as soon as it comes in, she thought as she took a deep breath. Outside the boutique, she raised her new dress slightly in the air, in part because it was her only means of getting the attention of a cab driver, but more so as a salute to her efforts. Here’s to giving love one more chance, she thought as she stepped up to a taxi and got inside.

      Dior couldn’t wait to get home to see if Mr. Good Black Man would say yes to meeting her in person at MoBay. And it wasn’t really about going on a date, either. She was more eager to read through his response. It became about the challenge at that point. She wanted to see if he would fall through or if he really was what he cracked himself up to be. Lord knew she didn’t need any more impersonators. She wanted the real deal, and if a man was not that he need not apply. Her time was too valuable for pretenders.

      “Mr. Good Black Man said yes,” Dior boasted.

      “Goodie!” Gordon cheered, clapping his hands. “So that’s one worry down.”

      “Yeah, one down and one hundred to go,” Dior replied.

      Gordon flagged Dior playfully and jumped right into the interrogation. “Are you excited? What are you going to