Angela Nicole Parker

“So tell me Jilly, how do I look?”

Jillian bit down on her lip so hard that she thought she was going to draw blood. For as long as she had known William, five- and- one half very dramatic years, he had been what Jillian playfully referred to as fashionably challenged, although she thought her best friend Selma was closer to the mark when she said that: “the poor Chico was just color blind.” Still, she had to admire his bravery. She would never leave the house in a loud orange jumper, complete with a thick, silver chain “belt” around the waist.

“Fabulous as usual,” she lied, smiling a little brighter as William did a little bow.

“It’s a Cara Morton original. It’s supposed to evoke the limitless of the sun.”

Jillian smirked. What it evoked was a long prison sentence and a day attached to the chain gang.

“Do, you think he’ll be impressed?” he asked, straightening his collar.

“Who?”

“Fox Williams. I wore this especially for him.”

Jillian couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t laugh Jilly. I think I’m in love.”

“You’re kidding right?” Jillian responded, barely able to hide her disgust.

“Look Jilly, I know you hate him…”

“Hate him?” Jilly asked, her voice now a high pitch squeal. “I don’t hate him.” 

And she didn’t. Hate was too mild a word for what she felt for that arrogant, self important, barely literate hack.

William smiled as he slithered towards her, his arm making his way around her shoulder. “Come now Jilly. How can you not hate him after what happened at the Krystal Gayle Awards last year?”

“Like I can remember back that far,” Jilly replied, her right eye twitching like mad.

William let out a deep breath. “Well let me remind you. He humiliated you in front of your friends and peers.”

 “Sorry,” said William, staring at her with     

“But, as much as you detest him, you can’t deny that he is ridiculously attractive.”

“Well, you got the first part right.”

So, what if he looked like a cross between Boris Kodjoe and Morris Chestnut, everybody knew that the devil took pleasing shapes.

Jillian sighed. “You know he’s straight right?” She waved her hand dramatically up and down his outfit. “You’re wearing the proof.”

William huffed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah he and Cara Morton are the city’s “it” couple, I know. Have you ever heard of the down low?”

Jillian looked away. She wasn’t in the mood for this, in fact, she wasn’t in the mood for anything except crawling back into bed and pulling the cover over her face. Today was going to be a bad day, she could feel it, and the sooner it was over the better she would feel.  Her mother had called her at 6:00 a.m. solely for the purpose of insulting her taste in gifts, never mind the fact it had taken her a year to find the younger sister for her damn “Sassy Girls” doll collection; her boyfriend of four years Corey, kept yammering on about needing to talk, yet he was avoiding her calls; and worst of all her editor/ pimp Sasha Kirks had booked her on The Owen Williams show, the fastest growing African American talk show in syndication. Jillian dreaded her impending appearance. It had nothing to do with being shy or anything. She was a minor celebrity thanks to her very popular advice column that ran in the Los Angeles Metropolitan. She had even managed to make it in the tabloids once in a while. But Owen had also invited his brother, a.k.a the sexist piggy, as a guest, which meant she was going to have to get ready to rumble.   

 “God,” said William loudly and in his typical dramatic fashion as two crewmen. “The eyes never stop.”   

Jillian smiled politely and didn’t say a word as William, like most gay men that she know, assumed that all men were a little bit gay and on some level wanted him.

“ How do you know that they weren’t looking at me?” She asked, teasingly

William laughed. Jillian didn’t.

“Oh come on Jilly,” William said, noticing her souring mood. “We all know that you are nice to look at, but never underestimate the magnetic power of William Rand.”

Jillian knew she was beat.

“Oh my God,” squealed William pointing in front of them. “Here comes Finer and Finest of them all.”

 Jillian looked ahead, and sure enough Owen and Fox Williams were headed in her direction. She automatically began to stand straighter and clumsily ran her hand

through her medium length boob while  tugging on her black, pencil-shaped skirt.

 “Sasha was right,” said Owen Williams, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. “You are gorgeous.”

Jillian let out a girly laugh that made herself sick. But she couldn’t help it. With his tall, lean build, bald head and mocha chocolate skin Owen Williams was the type of guy that was destined to make your heart pound and your knees weak, then there was his brother.

  “Anderson,” said Fox smugly. “Long time no see.”

“Not long enough,” Jillian replied, folding her arms across her chest.

Fox smiled. “Don’t tell me that you are still mad about The Diamond Awards?”

Jillian’s lips tightened. “Of course not. I can’t tell you how much I appreciated your efforts. You were a true gentlemen.”

Fox’s eyes met hers, his brown eyes revealing that he understood the full meaning of her words.  If he had expected time to lessen her anger at him, he was wrong.

Jillian still cringed at the memory.

 “I’m William Rand, gossip columnist and Fox Williams fan.”

William’s ass kissing brought Jillian back to the present. William was doing a little courtesy and Fox shot William an amused glance. “Thanks Will.”

“It’s William.”

Fox just walked away.

“Some Prince Charming.”