The Lawyers Redemption: Redeeming Honor

Honor I twirled around in the dress I had completed. Who knew I could be so talented? Certainly not me. The dress was a copper color that I thought looked good against my dark caramel skin. It was a summer dress with thin spaghetti straps that criss-crossed at the back, leaving it sort of open. The skirt flared at the hips and ended just below the mid-thigh. It was cute and flirty. The front had a sweetheart neckline with a cute heart cutout that showed a little bit of cleavage. It had taken me a week to make it. I was going to make two more. One in red and the other in light yellow. The dress complimented me perfectly. I had a swan neck, something Greg loved. He loved to kiss it, lick it, and suck it when we made out or made love. My black hair was a short, pixie cut. Long and curly on top, short, shaved with a fade on the sides and back. My face was thin, and I had big almond-shaped eyes the color of honey. My black eyelashes were thick and long, and my friends often accused me of putting falsies on, but they were 100% real. My thin eyebrows had that perfect arch on the outside of the eye. I had a slim nose that flared a bit at the tip and a full kissable mouth. My dad was African American. He came from South Africa with my grandparents when he was five, and my mother was half Chinese and half Mexican. They had met in college when she was eighteen, and he was twenty. Married right after he graduated, and five years later, they had me. My father was one of the best defense lawyers in Florida, and my mother was his secretary even when she was pregnant with me. He had opened his own practice, and it turned into a prestigious firm within five years. Twenty-three years later, and he’s still sought after. He is a shark in the courtroom. I used to come watch him when I was a teenager. He had a commanding presence and a charm that no one could deny. And he fought tooth and nail for his clients if they were innocent. If they weren’t, he got them the best plea deal that he could. I picked up my phone, took a picture of myself, and sent it to my boyfriend of three years, Greg. What do you think? I just finished it, isn’t it pretty? Would you like me to come for a visit? Missed you this morning. I waited to see if he would read it, but he must be busy in court. Greg was a lawyer too, at Smith, Hayes, and Georde New Horizons LLP. Soon, the sign on the building will have Anders attached, I just know it. He was a divorce lawyer. He’s been working his way up at the firm and is now a junior partner. He came home last month and said he was in the running with two others for a senior partner role. We celebrated by going out to eat and dancing. Then we came home and had hot s*x. But in the last month, he’s been so busy, so it didn't bother me that he didn’t look at my text right away. I posted the picture on my F*ceb*ok, and instantly my friends liked it or commented on how awesome the dress was and how beautiful I looked. I took it off, hung it in my closet, and got dressed in shorts and a tank top. I had a pear-shaped body. My breasts were a full C. I had a small, nipped-in waist, but my hips and ass were rounded and full, and my thighs were thick. My friend CeeCee said she loved to watch my cake, that’s why she always walked behind me. Nothing like your lesbian friend to make you feel good about your own body. Every time she said something like that, it put an extra pep in my step. Too bad I wasn’t a lesbian, she’d make the best partner. I looked at the clock and decided to make an egg salad sandwich with a side of cucumbers and Tajin. I checked my phone and saw that Greg had read my text. Babe: Dress is nice… No, sorry, swamped. But I will be home on time, hopefully. I felt a little disappointed. I really would have liked to see him. He wasn’t home by the time I went to bed last night and was gone by the time I woke up. I knew he had come home because the suit he had worn yesterday was in the dirty clothes basket, and his side of the bed was messed up. There still had been a faint head imprint on his pillow, too. I noticed it when I fluffed the pillows while making the bed. Oh, well, I'll see him tonight when he gets home. I didn’t have any work tonight, so maybe I’d make his favorite enchilada casserole. I checked my calendar. Tomorrow I have a party for thirty. I did paint parties. People hired me for work bonding parties, bachelorette parties, baby showers, birthdays, or girls' night-in parties. It was a pretty lucrative business. I charge $40 per person, and I need at least 10 people to host a party. I normally host three to four parties a week, with twenty or more people at each. I mean, this is Miami, there’s always a reason to throw a party. Greg calls it a scam. He can’t believe I make anywhere between eight and ten, sometimes twelve grand a month doing paint parties. It kind of hurts my feelings like my job isn’t real to him. But he doesn’t complain when combined with his paychecks, we’re living pretty well. After I ate, I decided to go to the store to get the ingredients I needed for the casserole. I also grabbed the makings for the fried chicken and potato salad that I could make and put in Greg’s lunch tomorrow. I loved making him food. I made it with love, and I know he appreciates eating a home-cooked meal instead of takeout because his lunchbox was always empty when he brought it home. And I would leave little notes about how much I appreciated and loved him. I often wondered what he did with those notes, but when he got home, he would always thank me with a kiss and a hug. Though lately he hasn’t mentioned them. It had to be because he was under so much stress at work. His firm picked up a high-end client who wanted to divorce his wife with minimal financial fallout. “Damn, girl, you have no right being out in the streets looking that fine,” a voice said behind me. I smiled and turned around. “Oh, really, and why is that? I mean, I have the goods. They should be appreciated.” “b***h, you’re such a hoe.” I laughed and hugged CeeCee. We were the same height at 5’10”. We grew up next door to each other and went to the same schools our whole lives. Her black braided hair, with streaks of crimson, was piled high in a chunky bun, and her brown eyes sparkled with her usual mischievousness. She was with Josh, and I hugged him too. Josh was CeeCee’s brother’s best friend and our friend too, who happened to be bi. If I were into sharing or that poly lifestyle, Josh would be a great f**k buddy. He was a tattoo artist, and he rode a Harley. He was 6’3”, muscular, and had full sleeves of tattoos on both arms. His light brown hair and eyes the color of a frozen blue lake made him look menacing, but he was the sweetest guy. “What are you two doing here?” I asked as I resumed walking. “Saw your car in the parking lot as we drove by,” CeeCee said. “Yeah, and she was going the opposite direction, so she went over four lanes and jumped a curb, thought I was going to s**t myself,” Josh said. “But did you die?” CeeCee teased, batting her eyelashes. He rolled his eyes. “You are lucky I love you, Cee. If I tell your brother, he’s going to kick your ass.” “Snitches get stitches,” she retorted. I loved these too. CeeCee may be my best friend, but Josh was a close second. He always had our backs, and he came in a clutch when we hung out, and some douche tried to hit on us. Greg didn’t like him that much. He didn’t believe Josh was into guys and girls. He thought he hung out with CeeCee to get to me. I just told him he was wrong. But he brings it up when we go out as a group, and Josh never has a date. It’s one of the only things we argue about. “What are you doing? Ohhh, from your basket, it looks like you’re making enchilada casserole, or fried chicken.” “Both actually. The casserole is for tonight, and the fried chicken is for Greg’s and my lunch tomorrow.” “He’s a lucky ass. I wish I had a good woman to cook for me,” CeeCee said. “You do, me. Come over at one tomorrow. I’ll have the chicken and potato salad ready and waiting. You too, Josh.” “Can’t tomorrow, I have three clients.” “Ouch. Well, I can bring you some before I go to work. You can have it for dinner.” “That would be great, thanks, Honor.” I nodded. We talked for a little while longer, and then after checking out and putting my groceries in the car, I bid them goodbye.