Free The Cheating Curve by Paula T Renfroe

comfortable right now. As she crossed the street, instinct told her to glance back again. This time she spotted Dante. But he wasn’t alone. He was with another woman, and they were both laughing as they sat at one of the Blue Water Grill’s outdoor tables. Lang couldn’t stop watching as the woman reached over and touched Dante’s hand.
    “Well, don’t they look all cozy and happy,” Lang said out loud, flipping open her tiny Motorola. “I should call Aminah right now and tell her what this motherfucker has the nerve to be doing.” She paused. “Aw, damn. She’s the last person who’d want to hear about this. Damn. Damn. Damn.”
    She called Dante instead. Lang stood across the street with her arms folded and blatantly stared at the laughing couple from behind her gold-studded Dolce&Gabbana frames.
    “Whassup?” he asked, answering the phone in a rather short manner. Lang sensed she was interrupting something.
    “Oh. Hey, you sound busy.” Lang mustered up all the casualness in her tone that she could fake.
    “Actually, I am. Can I call you back later?”
    “Yeah, sure, sure….” She paused.
    “You all right?” Dante asked, knowing she wasn’t.
    “Yes, of course, of course, can I ask you something though?”
    “Yeah, but make it quick.”
    “Are you with somebody right now?”
    “Yeah,” he admitted casually.
    “Are you on a date?” Lang asked with more than a little attitude.
    “What’s with all the questions?” he asked, more amused than annoyed.
    Lang sighed. “Fine, Dante, fine.”
    “You’re so full of shit, Lang,” Dante said, chuckling.
    “How you figure?” she asked.
    “You’re callin’ me, frontin’ like everything’s lovely, when really you’re pissed to hear that I’m not available and at your service. You’re heated that I’m with someone else. Admit it.”
    “What-the-fuck-ever, Dante.”
    “I know you didn’t think you were the only woman—I mean, chick—I was dealing with,” he said, correcting himself. “My bad, I used to think I was dealing with a grown-ass woman, but now you got me wondering. Listen, Lang, I’ma talk to you later.”
    “How are you going to say all that to me and then get off the phone?” Lang asked, perturbed. “What’s your rush, Dante?”
    “Oh, so you wanna play games?” Dante asked, chuckling. “That’s cool. Because like I said, I am with someone right now, and I don’t want to be rude.”
    “So it is a date then?” Lang asked, hoping that maybe he was just showing his cute cousin from out of town around New York or something.
    “You know what? I’m not exactly sure. If you wanna know so badly, hold up and lemme me ask my friend.”
    Dante asked the nice-looking young lady sitting across from him if they were on a date.
    “My friend says yes.”
    “I don’t believe you, Dante,” Lang said.
    “You don’t?” Dante responded, deliberately misunderstanding and handing his phone to his date. “Lisa, do me a favor and say hi to my friend Lang.”
    “Hi, Lang,” Lisa purred into the phone.
    “Put Dante back on the phone!” Lang barked.
    “I don’t think she wants to talk me,” Lang could hear Lisa say as she handed Dante back his phone.
    “Hello.”
    “Fuck you, Dante,” Lang said, snapping the phone shut, turning on her heels, and rushing toward the salon.
    “Soon, baby, soon,” Dante said, smiling and watching Lang power walk down the street.

Chapter 8
    “I think you get off on making me wait.”
    L ang arrived for her appointment at Excellent and Innovative about seventeen minutes late, aggravated but by no means surprised that the salon was packed. There was no way she could start the workweek off with stray brow hairs. Not to mention she had The Fabulous Life of Beyoncé to shoot for VH1 on Monday.
    Guadalupe, her favorite Columbian aesthetician, waxed and tweezed her brows into the cleanest natural arch without fail, and she’d been doing so for the past ten years, back when the salon was over on