“And you shouldn’t feel guilty about wearing a certain type of underwear under your clothes. If you know you’re not wearing it for a sinful purpose then you shouldn’t be ashamed to put it on.”
“G–strings and thongs aren’t about anything sexual Col.” Abby continues. “It’s about function.”
“Look, if you were out one night and you had to wear an evening gown that fit close to the body you wouldn’t want people to see panty lines and bra straps.” Marcy says.
“No, it’d look sloppy.”
“Right, because that kind of stuff leaves a bad first impression on people.” Abby replies. “It says you don’t take care of yourself.”
“And when you’re representing your company and you look like you don’t take care of your business you don’t get business from other clients.” Marcy says.
I never thought about it that way. Who knew that I’d be judged by the underwear I wore. But as Daddy always tells me it’s the little things that have the biggest impact on people. “So I guess I better get used to a bald crotch, stickers on my breasts, and strings up my butt.”
“You’re not even going to feel them.” Abby persuades.
That’s what scares me. I’m going to feel like I have no underwear on.
I’m pondering how I’m going to make that new lingerie work when we pause in front of Hanna’s. It’s a quaint little restaurant with an Afrocentric theme. As Marcy opens the door and lets us in, we step into a dining room decorated with Kente cloth tablecloths and photographs of Black historical figures. The place seems to be busy; customers from the lunch rush are enjoying their meals in between pleasant conversations and soft jazz music. The aromas from the soul food wafting in the air are so delicious I can’t wait to place an order.
We find a booth in the back and have seats. As soon as we get comfortable, the waitress approaches our table with water and menus.
“Good Afternoon. Welcome to Hanna’s. I’m Chiarra.” The waitress greets. “Today’s specials are the whiting platter, two–piece chicken with potatoes and a biscuit, and salad, and the deluxe cheeseburger with fries. I’ll give you a moment to decide what you want.”
Yes! A cheeseburger. I know what I’m ordering. But I’ll check out the rest of the menu. Maybe they have a milkshake.
The waitress heads over to another table. Her mannerisms remind me a lot of Dean Mother Carver’s. I have to wonder if the owner is another Theta Sister.
“Is this another Theta business?”I ask.
“Yes, both of the owners are Sisters.” Marcy replies.
“I guess she trains the waitresses on diction and poise.”
“Our training does stay with you long after you pledge.” Marcy says.
“Are all the businesses in town owned by Thetas?”I inquire.
“Not all of them, but a good majority of the businesses in town are owned by Thetas or their husbands.” Abby replies.
“Why do so many sisters stay in town?”
“Some of us like it here.” Marcia says. “It’s to our advantage to have a Sister as a neighbor–”
I’ve got to admit it is a nice perk. And it seems like a pretty nice place to live, wherever this is.
Our conversation is interrupted as a heavyset chocolate colored woman with her hair in cornrows turns around and peers over her booth seat and scowls at us.
“Yo, listen to these bitches. Sound like White girls.”
The woman jumps out of her seat followed by her two obese friends wearing blouses two sizes too small, tight fitting jeans that look like they’re painted on, and brightly colored sneakers. They surround our booth giving us contemptuous glares as they look us up and down. “It ain’t Sunday, what ya’ll dressed up for?” One of her friends barks.
“Dressed up? We always dress like this.” Marcia replies.
“We always dress like this.” The second husky voiced woman mocks knocking up her voice several octaves. “What Black girls dress like you?”
“Damn. Look at these skinny bitches. Look like White girls dipped in chocolate.” The third woman laughs.
“Look like some chocolate Barbies.” The woman in cornrows snarls.
“Nah, Nah, they too light to be chocolate Barbies.” The second one laughs. “More like BougieTan Malibu Barbies.”
When I hear the harshness of her tone regarding how she feels about us I feel guilty about how I acted last night. The pink polyester dress and plastic shoes I put on Marcy and Abby do fit on me. And they’re not making me comfortable right now.
The women get a laugh at our expense. My Theta sisters and I shrug it off by reading through the menu. I spot the milkshake I wanted for dessert in the listings. But it doesn’t seem the woman with the cornrows is through with ridiculing us.
“Look at these fake heifers reading menus.” Her friend snarls. “Probably gonna order salads and shit.”
“This a soul food restaurant.” The woman in cornrows barks snatching the menu out of my hand. “They don’t sell salads here skinny bitches.” She growls glaring at me.
Turn the other cheek Col. All it takes is one nigger to ruin things for all the Sisters. Don’t let her goad you into acting like one.
All eyes are on us as the confrontation escalates. A tension builds as she keeps her eyes on mine. I bite my tongue to keep the insult I have on the back side of my mind from coming across my lips.
“What skinny bitch? What?”
The manager storms over to our table and snatches the menu out of her hand. “Excuse me, is there a problem here?” She barks.
The women back away upon being challenged by authority of the older woman. “Nah, ain’t no problem.”
“Then I suggest you pay for your meal and leave and stop harassing my customers.”
One of the women drops a twenty on the table behind us. “Cool. Let’s be out. I don’t want to be no place where they serve salad eating bitches anyway.”
Two of the ladies storm towards the exit. But the woman in cornrows isn’t through with me. Before she goes, she snatches a glass of water off our table and throws it in my face. I wince as it drizzles down over the front of my suit. When she still doesn’t get a rise out of me, she storms towards the door, kicks it open and rushes out of the restaurant followed by her two friends shouting profanities.
Marcia reaches into her purse and hands me her handkerchief. I dab my face as the manager attends to me.
“Are you okay Pledge?” The manager asks.
Pledge? Does everyone know I’m here? “Yeah, I’m fine.” I answer wiping my face. “Initiation with this sorority is something else.”
“Being assaulted is not part of our initiation.” Marcia says.
“I’m sorry you had to deal with that. But you handled it gracefully like a true Theta Sister would.”
The vote of confidence makes me feel better. “I didn’t want to embarrass the Sisterhood by causing a disturbance.”
“If you ask me you meet the Theta standard for courage. Let me get the meal Sisters.”
Chapter 23
In between bites of our meal I learn more about Hanna’s from Yvette Marie, one of its owners. It turns out the restaurant is a partnership between two Theta Sisters started out just four years ago after they graduated college. It also turns out they own a few dozen restaurants all over the east coast. Man, I wish we had one of these in New York. The cheeseburgers are so good I had to stop myself from ordering a second one.
I slurp down the last remnants of my vanilla milkshake wondering how deep the Theta network is in these parts. I have to wonder if every Theta in town knows I’m here. Yvette smiles at me as I peer up at her to ask my question.
“I take it you enjoyed your meal Colleen.” She says.
Enjoyed is an understatement. That cheeseburger was better than sex. “I loved it Yvette.” I reply. “I just have a question. Does every Theta Sister know I’m here?”
“Pretty much every Sister in the New York area.”Yvette replies.
; “Wow. Word gets around fast in your network. I just got here yesterday–”
“We make it a point to be aware of each other so we can look out for each other in the area.”
“Is that why you guys steered me to Theta businesses today?” I say looking at Marcia and Abigail.
“The salon isn’t owned by Thetas.” Abigail says. “But Lin Tokuda is a close personal friend of Grand Mother Flowers.”
Yvette smiles at me and takes the heat off her sisters. “Colleen, it’s important that Sisters invest our money in Theta businesses.” Yvette continues. “If we don’t look out for ourselves first, no one else will.”
“Besides, all the money the Sisters have invested in Anderson Financial over the years, you should be eager to give back some of it to your fellow Thetas.” Marcy retorts.
I know Daddy hires Thetas, but I didn’t know they also invested in us too. The little money I’ve spent today is probably peanuts to the money they’ve invested with Daddy over the years. “I had no idea all of you looked out for my family’s business.”
“I was surprised when I found out how much of our money was invested in my family’s business.” Abby replies. “But now that we know we have to continue supporting each other to keep the money in our community.”
“I guess I won’t take for granted where my money comes from anymore.”
Rumsfeld walks into the restaurant in his driving uniform and puts his hands behind his back as he approaches our table to address us. “Ladies, are you ready to return to the house?”
Marcy checks her watch. “It’s about that time Col. We’ve got to get back to the house.”
We ease out of the booth and head for the door. “Thanks for lunch Yvette.”
“Anytime Colleen.” Yvette replies. “I’ll see you on Slipdress Sunday.”
We leave Hanna’s and file into the backseat of the Rolls. I turn around and the blindfold is tied around my eyes. As the car pulls away Abby pats my hand.
“You were pretty brave staring down that roughneck chick.” Abby praises.
“I don’t know if it was a chick.” I joke. “But it could only make a scene if I allowed it to.”
“And you handled her beautifully.”Marcy says.
“…Up to the part where I got splashed with water.”
“Hey, at least it’s not grape juice.” Abby comforts. “The cleaners will have your suit looking brand new in a few days.”
I hope so. I really like this suit. “It was scary though. I didn’t know what she was going to do–”
“But you knew what you were going to do. You kept your power. If you had gotten up to confront her she would have won by getting that rise out of you she wanted.”
“Now I guess you understand why we stay so secretive.” Abby says.
“Unfortunately, I do.”
“Imagine if chicks like that pledged us.” Abby continues.
“Women like that could ruin things for everyone.” I say. “Including themselves.”
“Sadly, women like them don’t see the work BougieTan Malibu Barbies like us do behind the scenes to keep them from being in a worse situation than they’re already in.” Marcy says.
“But they’re considered “real” Black women by the rest of the world.” Abby pouts.
“What’s real is relative.” I say. “If we took any one of them and gave them the background and experiences we had growing up, they’d be just like us.”
“Too bad they can’t see that.” Marcia replies.
“I just wish we didn’t have to separate ourselves from other Black people.” I say. “In some ways we’re just doing what Willie Lynch wanted us to do. “Allowing ourselves to be divided so today’s racists can conquer us.”
“I wish we didn’t have to separate ourselves either.” Abby replies. “But they don’t appreciate the value of sisterhood. To them our organization would be a joke.”
“They’d twist our mission and pervert our traditions into parties, orgies, and step shows to entertain the public instead of educating each other on what it means to be a woman.”
“And all the good work of the Theta Sisterhood would be lost. My aunt says all it takes is one nigger to ruin things for everyone.”
“The damage that one person could do our network is pretty systemic.”Marcy replies. “It would take decades to fix it if we could at all.”
“Worse, we might not be able to fix it.” Abby replies. “And we may never get another chance to build another network of sisters like this again.”
“Still, I wish there was a way to help other Black women like that–”
“Unfortunately, you can’t present pearls to swine Col.” Abby sighs. “They’ve been poor and ignorant for so long they wouldn’t understand the value of what we’re presenting to them.”
“Lest they stomp them under your feet and then turn to rend you.” I sigh. “Which is what almost happened today.”
“Besides, if push came to shove, we wouldn’t have let them rend you.” Marcia says.
“You guys would have had my back?”
“Definitely.” Abby says. “I want to borrow that suit next week.”
Abby’s joke lightens the mood as I hear the car coming to a stop at the top of the hill. Looks like we’re back at the house.
Chapter 24
Rosa greets us as we enter the vestibule of the Theta House. “Good afternoon sisters, how was your trip?”
“It was a lot of fun.” I reply. “Got a dress for Slipdress Sunday.”
“Great. Dinner will be at seven.” Rosa says.
Abby checks her watch. It’s five thirty. “All About Nikki is on!”
As much as I’d like to watch reruns of my favorite show in syndication, I’ve got other stuff to do. “Guys, I need to unpack. Can I be excused?”
Abby smiles at me. “Sure. You’ve got the two bottom drawers in the dresser and the bottom rod and shelves in the closet.”
Figures the Pledge would get the lowest rungs. “If you want to hang out with us later, we’ll be in the lounge.” Marcia says. “You just walk down the hall and make a right.”
“Cool.”
Rosa, Marcia, and Abigail head down the hall. I hurry back upstairs to the suite, grab my bags off the bed and rush into the walk in closet. I find my name written on tape of the bottom rods and shelves, turn around and unzip my garment bag and start hanging up my suits, dresses, blouses and skirts on the rods. Then I open up my trunk and get my heels and sandals out of the shoeboxes arranging them by color. Black, white, taupe, red, navy, cordovan, bone, then the pastels like rose, lavender and lemon. Once I put my hats on the lowest shelf my space looks like a self–serve women’s shop where everything is my size.
After I finish packing out the dress clothes, I check out my sisters’ wardrobes. Man, Marcy and Abby have some nice outfits. I may have to rethink letting them borrow my stuff. Abby has a red dress I think I’d look good in and Marcy has a double–breasted plum purple suit I’d love to try on.
I look over their wardrobes again and not a single pair of jeans or shorts. Not even a Polo shirt or a pair of khakis. I guess it’s real formal around here; Thetas must wear suits and heels everywhere. And Aunt Margaret didn’t buy me any gym clothes. I have to wonder if they’re going to have me working out in this stuff. It’s going to be real awkward lifting weights in Chanel and Armani.
I grab the suitcase with my lingerie and pajamas in it and head out of the closet over to the dresser. I put my underwear and swimwear in the left drawer and my pajamas and nightgowns in the right one. I notice Marcy and Abby have their perfume and lotion on trays on top of the dresser, but I think I’ll leave mine in the case in the bathroom. Less mess.
After I put my suitcase back in the closet I check my watch. Five–fifty–five. Wow. I’m done faster than I thought I’d be. I could join Marcy and Abbby and catch that second episode of All About Nikki…
Or I could check to see how smooth it is down there.
I give into tha
t naughty thought as I peer out of the door. Everyone must be downstairs watching Nikki or getting ready for dinner. So it looks like I have a little time to check out Lin’s handiwork.
I peel out of my suit, hat, heels and underwear and fold them up neatly next to my peaches and crème ensemble at the foot of the bed. Then I streak over to the full–length mirror and look down at the reflection of my hairless pubic area. I’m impressed with the work Lin did on me. I can’t even tell that I ever had any hair down there yesterday.
I wonder what it feels like. A wicked grin sprouts on my face as I run a hand down my stomach and across my pubic mound. Mmmmmm….The skin down there feels as smooth as silk. As my fingertips brush against my mound and slip between my legs my body tingles. Brazilian is definitely something I’m going to work into my African–American beauty routine.
I want to let my fingers explore my newly hairless intimate areas further, but stop myself when heat surges throughout my body and I feel a slickness between my legs. There’s a time and a place for loving myself, and two days into pledging isn’t it. Even though I confessed to masturbating, I don’t want to leave a bad impression on the other sisters by letting them actually catch me doing it. They may find me touching myself inappropriate in their house.
While I won’t touch just yet, I can still take a look. And I have to admit, being bald down there does make the lines of my body look leaner. I actually think I look a little taller without the pubes breaking up all the skin.
Checking myself out, I have to admit I still am one hot chick. Yeah, I’m a couple of pounds heavier than I was in high school, but a little meat on my bones does add some curves to my figure. “Colleen, you are one sexy woman–”
“Am I interrupting something Pledge?”
“AAAAAAHHHHH!” I scream as I catch Grand Mother Flowers reflection in the mirror behind me.
Chapter 25
Upon seeing Grand Mother Flower’s reflection in the mirror behind me, I quickly grab a pillow off one of the beds to cover myself. Grand Mother Flowers isn’t fazed by my startled shriek or the sight of me naked. The old woman smiles at me as she puts a bundle of clothes and a book on my bed and smiles at me.
“They told me you were getting unpacked, but don’t you think this is taking it a little too far?” she jokes. “This isn’t a nudist camp.”