Slipped:A Love Story Birthed In Chiraq

By: Cece S

All of them were dressed in designer and shining. Big time pieces, and the bigger pieced chains looked five times my beamer car note.

Strutting to the other side of the store to the mirror, I felt them watching me.

“I like these. Box these.”

“I like them too,” one of them said.

In the mirror, I twisted and turned—my eyes really on the fye ass heels on my feet. The burgundy heels were suede in texture with a pointed toe. A decent sized heel, it got me from my small 4’9” to a good 5’3”.

“Damn,” the fat one appeared behind me in the mirror. “Happy Valentine’s Day, gorgeous. I’m buying those for her.”

“No, thank you.”

With my finger, I called the boss and he helped me out further.

“Can I get some leather skinnies for these?” My mind was making outfits. “Or better yet, a leather skirt.”

He sized me up, the fat man next to him studied me like he was a Saks Fifth Avenue worker too.

“Since these are dark, maybe you could get something light colored, blush, pink…”

The boss was looking at me like I was speaking Spanish to him.

“Fuck it!” I looked over at the racks. “I got it.”

“I-I’m sorry, ma’am.” He laughed. “It’s been a long day. When she’s done with them—”

“No problem,” I assured him.

Going to the racks, I picked out some outfits and accessories like it was nothing. One by one, I tried them on and modeled them for myself in the mirror.

“You a stylist?” the fat one reappeared.


“A model?”

“Nope.” As I walked back to the dressing room, he said something else to me but I didn’t go back out to respond. Instead, I put my clothes on and sent a text to my cousin.

“I’m ready!” I texted.

I was stepping back into my own heels when my phone dinged.

A few more minutes, she texted back.

When I walked back out, all the men were gone and both of the clerks were handling two sets of couples who had walked in. Both couples were young, fly, and looked so happy. One white and one Arab. My mind went to me and Scotty. Usually, on Valentine’s Day, we'd be in here just like them, buying everything up just because these rich motherfuckers never expect us to.

“If you could give me one minute,” the blonde told me when she saw me putting my things down on the counter. “I’ll be right with you.”

“Take your time.” I walked over to the purses and started picking through those. “I could use a new bag or two.”

When my hand touched a bag similar to the one Scotty got for me and Taya, I irritably stormed to a jacket rack in the back.

I had a red leather motorcycle jacket in front of my face when the bell at the front door rang.

“Welcome to Saks,” I heard the female welcome more guests.

“Can I speak to her real fast?”

When I pulled the jacket down, the man with the double cup was coming up on me. As he got closer, he pulled his pants up and licked his thick lips, double cup gone.

“What’s your name? “

“What you need it for? Do I know you?”

“I'm O'mega.” He stuck his hand out.

“Stah'si.” I shook his hand. His grip on my hand was firm.

“I like you, I think you’re really beautiful and tasteful. I would like to take you out.”

Behind his back, the blonde was giving me thumbs up like a little girl.

From out of his pocket fell crumbled bills and coins as he searched for something.

“My phone is dead, but I could write it down.”

“I’m sorry.” I shook my head. “I can’t take numbers or give mine. I’m on the job.”

Yes, if you can’t tell by now. I’m a liar!

“Wait.” he tried to stop me as I walked away.

I walked to the register. “Can I have the bathroom key please? Where is it?”

“Down the hall, to the right.”

When she handed me the key, I bumped past him to get to the bathroom.

“You have a happy Valentine’s Day,” I said.

When I made it around the counter I ran to the bathroom.

“It would be better with you!” he yelled.

I stayed in the bathroom until I heard them leaving. Before I came out, I freshened up. All of the guys were still hanging around out front, talking in front of their cars. Two of the boys had a 3 series like me—one black and one white. The other two had dark colored Porsche trucks.

“Here.” The lady held a one-hundred-dollar bill out to me along with my bag.

“I didn’t pay, and this is not my money.” I tried to give it back, but she shoved it to me. If I hadn’t grabbed it, it would’ve fallen.

“It’s his.” She nodded outside. Double cup waved at me. “He paid for all of your outfits too.”

In total, I had over 20K worth of clothes on the counter, and I had them all there to pick only one last minute item.

“He did...” my voice trailed off as I snatched the bags open.

He bought everything.

“O’mega,” she annunciated in a funny voice, holding the one hundred dollar bill out to show me his penmanship.

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