SUN OF A QUEEN
“I ain’t no sonofabitch but I am a Sun of a Queen from Flint.”
Teffarra had texted her girls. She was supposed to meet fake b-ball playing ass Tyrell at Vernita’s new Soul You restaurant and bar that just opened on the North side of Flint’s downtown bridge.
Her girl’s being the sneaky nosey caring sorority sistas that they were, they had pulled an Insecure episodic like sneak attack. They showed up uninvited and 30-minutes late to what they had decided was a present or future booty call business dinner date.
Of course, it was Tynee of the fast rising Tynee Talks who had coined that dinner date phrase.
Now they were four fine ass women sitting in an elegant restaurant and instead of surreptitiously vetting Teffarra’s date they were comforting a friend who been stood up. Afterall, Tyrell was supposed to have been there an hour ago and his chicken ass wasn’t answering his phone either.
Louise P. Mannie had put together an art show that called for all sorts of artists & talents to take over the Flint Cultural Center for a night by Turning Up for Flint.
That meant teaming up with Director Cathye Johnson, Linnell Jones-McKenney, NaTasha Breed, Jiquanda Johnson, Dr. Dawn Demps, William A. Carrington, Mary McGee-Gray, and others who were directly connected to Flint’s return from the murderous rage of the former and still un-indicted Michigan Governor Snyder who was also a recently dumped guest of Harvard’s racist promotions.
Still, the view at the event was an ocean of Black people being supported by a wide river of White people who were reliving the patronage acts of the Harlem Renaissance but this time in Flint.
Anyway, it was at Turn Up for Flint that Teffarra had met Tyrell.
He had fed her some line from She’s Gotta Have It.
“Although I love the art you have on display here I would love to see and buy some of your private pieces.”
They talked more and Teffarra liked how his eyes lit up when he spoke about his mother.
Now here she was at a nice restaurant with her always dependable girls and the elephant in the room which was the private art pieces in a zipped-up art case leaning on a table nearby.
“He probably saw you were serious about your business and got scared that he wasn’t gonna get any of your goody goody.”
“Oh, he was gonna get it.”
“Forget all three of you…”
“You better not call us heffas.”
“Anyways, it’s mine to give or not give.”
That was pretty much the entire dinner theme.
“Girl, it’s gonna be all right. We ain’t gonna let no sonofa…”
Had they not been in a venting huddle they would have seen Tyrell approaching.
“Excuse me ladies I ain’t no sonofabitch but I am a Sun of Queen.”
The normally high energy ladies were shocked into silence. More so because Tynee was the first one to recognize the unspoken opportunity.
“Mr. Iman Shumpert,” Tynee jumped from the table and said with an extended hand while getting a side-eye from Teffarra for almost knocking over her art bag.
“Mr. Shumpert, I follow you and Teyana Me Shay Jacqueli Taylor,” yep she said his wife’s full name “on Instagram and I just want you to know…”
“That I’m late because of Mr. Shumpert,” Tyrell interrupted with a smile and then hug from Tynee after he whispered in her ear, “I’ll do my best to get you a sit down.”
Tynee’s thought-look was a silent, “Wait. What. How did you even know that was my angle?”
“Teffarra, Iman was the one who anonymously donated 50K to Turn Up for Flint and who bought your art pieces #21, 33, and #54.”
Iman shot Tyrell a man you just can’t keep a secret can you look.
Teffarra’s smile widened. That was a 35K purchase, some of which she was gonna spend on her girls but the steady drinks and food had already been paid for, according to the waitress.
Turned out the waitress was Tyrell’s cousin and her job was to keep the girls seated.
“Still I do apologize for my tardiness Teffarra.” He said it with that look that she had told her girls about and which resulted in the vetting scenario and booty call reference.”
“My boy just got in from New York and after we finish breaking bread with you ladies, we both would like to look your private pieces.”
All eyes were on Teffarra now as she softly cried and could barely whisper, “Thank you, thank you, thank you” to her girls, Tyrell, and Iman.
