I grabbed my camera and drink then strolled to the colorful vendor stands next door. While taking pictures a voice called out to me to come inside. The strong rum’s tone was louder and told me I was hearing thangs so I continued taking pictures. The voice, now getting closer, again invites me to come take a look in the shop. Meeting me at the entrance was a thick (but way too young fe me) cutie. He calls himself G-Man. Blessed with equal and very generous portions of Jamaican and Indian nature, he is adorably blended. Reminds me of my younger son. I follow G-Man in to take a look at his table full of wares.
It was hot in there so I knew I had to scan quickly then leave before the heat makes me impatient. .
I think G-Man is flirting with me as I table shop. Didn’t want to assume he was so the rum told me to ask.
“Lawd child, are you flirting with me??”
“CHILD!” followed by a giggle that made his belly jiggle. “What, you won’t go out with me?” he takes a hold of my right-hand pinky. “To party and dance?? What’s your name?” he asks with a boyish smile that almost made this grown woman weak.
“Party…dance…ok…where??? Um wait!” (Geee now I’m giggling and jiggling.) “It’s not that you aren’t a handsome man, you are. It’s just that you remind me of my son and it would feel like I’m doing something morally wrong with you if we dance the way I like to dance.”
He smiled and I just wanted to pinch his cheek. He’s looking more and more like my Kenny the longer I stare at him. I turn my attention back to the table and see something I really wanted.
“How much is that crab?”
“1,000J. You like that?”
“Yeah I do, but I don’t have that much on me. It’s my last day so the dollars are low. All I have on me is 300. But I promise I will look for you on my next reach.”
“Promise?”
“Absolutely.”
“Respect Sista…Respect”
I’m sweating buckets so I said my goodbyes and made my exit.
