Page 6 of Lovetown, USA

Lane

I’m power-walking through the hotel lobby when Ravi calls me over to the front desk with an earnest smile on his face.

“Ms. Washington? You have some items here.”

Frowning, I bang a right and head over to the desk. He hands over two envelopes and small casserole dish.

I give him a look, which earns me an even bigger smile.

The first card is a pink glittery mess with a message inside:

“ Hey. I noticed you at the Velvet Note. I’d love to take you to dinner. My treat. Eric .”

I roll my eyes at my treat , because that’s supposed to go without saying, and because there weren’t exactly a gaggle of single men at the lounge that night. This better not be a husband hitting on me.

The second card is plain white with a red heart on the front.

“ Hi there! I’m Yolanda, and my brother Lance is a great catch. He has a steady job, a car, his own house, and a Labradoodle. Call me so I can set you two up!”

Her number is scrawled at the bottom.

And on top of the casserole is foil with writing scrawled across in black marker:

My son’s cell: 555-256-8399. XO Mama Whitney

I blink up at Ravi, who’s smiling sheepishly.

“Did somebody put up a billboard out there that says ‘single woman available, apply within?’”

Ravi shrugs. “It’s not a small town, but it operates like one. A determined one. Folks around here are serious about love, Ms. Washington.”

“Ugh.” I shake my head and push the casserole across the countertop. “Whatever’s in there is all yours.”

His eyes light up. “I appreciate it. I didn’t wanna ask.”

My Uber is waiting at the curb. I hop in and greet Tamika, my driver, complimenting her boho braids as I buckle.

“You’re new,” she says, pulling off. “How are you liking it so far?”

I chuckle. “It’s different.”

“That it is,” she laughs. “What brings you here?”

“Research.” I stare out the window. “I’m like a war correspondent, but for love.”

“I see.”

“Are you married?”

She smiles. “I am. Four years next month.”

“Congratulations. Was it the town that did it, or are y’all normal?”

She cackles. “I thought you asked for a quiet ride.”

I laugh with her. “I did, but now I need the tea.”

She turns the radio down. “Well…it’s not magic or anything. There’s just…a lot of emphasis on pairing off. They make it as easy as possible.” She gestures toward her GPS. “You’ll see in a minute. You’re going to bingo, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, defeated.

I cracked open the Visitor’s Guide this morning and saw that they were having Singles Bingo tonight. I’m only going for research purposes, but in the spirit of keeping an open mind for Nadia, I dressed up for it. Black wrap dress, plunging neckline, red strappy sandals, and a red lip to match.

As if she read my mind, Tamika says, “Looking that fly, you’ll be engaged by the end of the month.”

I let that hang in the air as I watch the trees whiz by the window. Looking at the street we’re on from inside the car, you’d almost think it was normal around here.

And then you step inside the Lovetown Multipurpose Hall for Singles Bingo Night and you’re reminded how fucking warped this city is.

I step inside and immediately overdose on the tacky decor. It’s chock full of whatever was leftover from Valentine’s Day at the local CVS. Heart-shaped balloons, cupid cutouts, pink garland and even a photo booth with Swipe Right on the sign.

A nice volunteer hands me a bingo packet. Inside are four cards, three drink tickets, and a baggie full of heart candies as markers.

Gag .

At least there’s a bar.

I grab a seat, and at least I’m getting glances this time. I settle in, adjust my cleavage, then signal to the guy in the novelty tux so I can go ahead and start drinking.

The crowd is mixed, just like Mayor Daphne said about the town. The ratio of men to women is about equal, too. I’ll give them their tens for that alone.

You damn sure never see that in Atlanta.

Best of all, no rings glinting on fingers. Everybody here is on the prowl. The stakes are low, and the hopes are high. Not mine, but everyone else’s. You can feel it in the air.

Tuxedo man brings me my martini.

The hum of chatter dies down as a silver-haired doll of a black woman makes her way to the stage. She’s wearing a pink dress and rhinestone heart spectacles, grinning adorably as she thunders into the mic. “Good evening! As always, I’m your host, Miss Milly. Are y’all ready to play?”

The crowd, minus me, cheers wildly.

“And remember, the jackpot is love !”

Everyone else in the room chimed in on the word love, and I resist the urge to projectile vomit. This is insane. Truly.

“Eyes down, hearts open!” she finishes, and then the game begins.

To my utter shock, I don’t hate it. Numbers and letters. Competition. Buzz sets in. More numbers and letters. By the time I get to the bottom of my martini, I’m yelling out, “B-14!” like the rent is due.

I signal for another, my eyes locking on a slightly older gentleman a few tables over. He’s not bad looking at all. Not at all.

But I have a game to win.

A different man wins the first card. We all cheer because we’re all tipsy at this point. Second card, second drink, and mama’s on a roll.

“G-54!”

I scramble to get a heart candy out of the baggy, setting it on top of my card with a gleeful giggle. I’m almost there.

Then I see him.

Dr. Handsome.

He strolls in looking like money in dark blue jeans and a button down with the sleeves rolled up. His forearms alone are enough to melt my panties, but his smile—at Miss Milly—makes me shiver. It feels like the room tilts a few degrees.

He spots me.

I greet him with a smile over my glass, then glue my eyes back to my card before I get myself into trouble.

“N-31!”

Oh shit.

“Bingo!” I yell, shooting to my feet as wild applause breaks out.

I sit back down and finish my martini, signaling for a third as a volunteer comes over to pick up my card.

I avoid another glance at Dr. Trey, feeling his eyes on me.

I’m a little embarrassed I got so into the game, but fuck it.

I’m not a woman who bends her will to other peoples’ expectations.

I do what I want. Who cares what that man thinks?

I do, apparently.

Ten minutes later, I win again. Card four is won by the same gentleman who won card one. Strange, and lowkey feels like a setup, but I’m too buzzed to work out the logistics of that. Miss Milly calls us to the stage, and I saunter up there, fully aware that all eyes are on me. Where they belong.

“As is the grand tradition,” Miss Milly says, “here are your prizes.”

She hands over two gigantic plastic diamond rings. They’re comically big, but in the spirit of the game, I smile.

“Time to seal the deal!”

The crowd goes wild, and it’s the corniest thing ever. But when I lock eyes with Dr. Trey, he’s not cheering at all. In fact, he looks irritated.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Startled, I turn my attention back to Miss Milly. “Lane.”

“Lane, this is Deacon. It’s tradition that the winners place the rings on each other’s fingers.”

Deacon is a tall drink of chocolate milk with a perfect white smile. He slides the ring on my finger with ease, then I return the favor, letting my hand linger on his for a second too long. Just a little something for the plot.

He smirks like he’s enjoying the story I’m writing.

“And here is your certificate.” She hands Deacon an envelope. “This can only be used by the two of you together. Any restaurant within the city limits. Enjoy!”

Well, fuck. I gotta go out with this negro?

I swallow my irritation, because there are worse things in the world than a free dinner with a handsome man. I pull out my card and slide it to Deacon.

“Call me,” I say.

“Oh, I will.”

Yeah, he’s cute. Face, sittable. But my mind is already elsewhere. On my exposé, to be exact. I don’t care how much I drink; if there’s work to be done, I’m doing it.

I tap Miss Milly on the shoulder. “Excuse me. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

“What would have happened if two women won the prize? Or two men?”

She frowns. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Would they still have gotten the certificate for dinner?”

“Of course!” she says. “Why wouldn’t they?”

I’m searching for the words when she grabs my hand. “Are you uncomfortable, dear?” She lowers her voice to a near whisper. “We have a queer bingo night if that’s more your speed.”

“Oh, I’m straight,” I say with a laugh. “I’m just interested in the logistics, that’s all.”

Her face is still a little pinched. “You have women friends, right? And you go to dinner, I’m assuming. The dinner is for two people to enjoy each others’ company.” She squeezes my hand. “There’s more than one kind of love. sweetheart.”

Well, that’s nice. And unexpected. I’m at a loss, which usually happens to me when I’m proven wrong.

“And the queer bingo night…how did that come about?”

“Some of our participants asked for it, and we obliged, of course.”

I nod. Another point for Miss Milly. I was all ready to write about them pushing marginalized bingo players to the fringes, but that’s not what this is at all.

“Well I have to tell you, I had a ball,” I say truthfully. “I expected the worst, but this was actually kinda cool.”

She grins. “So then you’ll be back?”

“We’ll see how the date goes. Stay tuned.”

She sends me off with a chuckle. I head back to my table to finish off my free drink, then I collect my things to head out. On the way, I brush past Dr. Trey. We lock eyes, just for a second, and my body buzzes like a live wire. But I keep moving, smiling to myself when he falls in step behind me.

The night air is cool around me as I order my ride. I feel his presence hovering next to me, patient and expectant, but I mind my black ass business.

“Damn. I guess I’m too late.”

I look up. “What do you mean?”

He grabs my hand and holds it out. “You’re a married woman now.”

I smile and wiggle my ringed finger at him. “Snooze you lose, or whatever SZA said.”

He chuckles. “She definitely didn’t say that .”

“Let me find out we have the same taste in music.”

“I love SZA,” he says, staring into my eyes. “You know what just hit me?”

“What’s that?”

“Every time I see you, you’re either drinking or drunk.”

Ouch.

I stiffen as a frown spreads across my face. “And every time I see you , you’re too much of a pussy to make your move.”

He rears back. “Damn. It’s like that?”

“Yep. Apparently, it is.”

My car pulls up.

“Is that you?”

I walk toward it and away from him. “Don’t worry about it,” I say. “I don’t need a chaperone. Now, you go and have the night you deserve.”

I slide in and resist the urge to slam this man’s door. My pulse is roaring. Eyes burning. How dare he?

And when I hop out five minutes later, heels clicking against the pavement, there’s the doctor again, idling behind the Uber in his blue BMW.

My anger flares again as the Uber pulls off. I wait for him to leave, but he just sits there staring at me.

I march up to his window and knock twice. He lowers it.

“Why are you stalking me?”

His smile is small and apologetic. “Making sure you got home safe, that’s all.”

I blink slowly. “Why do you care?”

“I really don’t know.”

I take a deep breath. “Fine. Then finish the job.” I incline my head toward the hotel. “Walk me inside, Prince Charming.”

He nods. “Let me park.”

I step back as he pulls off, smirking to myself. He didn’t need to park to walk me in. This negro actually thinks he’s staying for a while.

Good.

Because I think I’m gonna treat myself to some dick tonight. I know I swore it off a few mornings ago, but these are special circumstances.

I’m in Lovetown.

With an open mind.

Open legs are thus inevitable.

Two minutes later, the handsome doctor jogs over, and I pivot, hips swaying a little more than necessary as I lead him inside.

In the lobby, I turn, staring up at him as he towers over me, eyes sharp, attention on me. I didn’t realize he was so tall.

Yeah, I’m about to climb this man and turn him every which way but loose.