First I looked past TaShay toward her aunt Paula, who was busy grinning and applauding the speeches being given at the podium. Then I looked across the table to Kim. She caught me dead-eyed again. She smiled and looked away. But it wasn’t an easy smile. It felt like she was a little bit jealous. Even TaShay caught it. So she straightened up and started clapping her hands like nothing happened.

Okay, this is crazy, I told myself. I had one, two, three, four, five women in that room who were all competing for pieces of me. One crossed wire and the whole neighborhood could explode.

I took a drink of water and tried to shake it off. I had been in many situations where several women were vying for my attentions, but it seemed different this time. In my younger years, I would map it all out and put them on a priority list. I told myself to do the same that night.

Stay cordial with TaShay, but let her know you’re not going there. Have a much better talk with Kim about everything as soon as you get a chance. Introduce Victoria to one or two people, and point out others she should meet on her own. Ignore Rachel, because you don’t want to have anything else to do with her. Then make sure you catch up to Andrea to ask her the questions that have been driving you nuts.

I was putting it all together in my mind. So by the time the host asked for the models to stand for recognition as he called out our names, I was back at peace with myself.

“Terrance Mitchell,” the host called. I stood up, smiled, and turned to face the applauding crowd of guests while they flashed our picture individually and as a group on a large projector screen above the podium.

That’ll get Andrea thinking about me again, I told myself after my towering image had been shown on the screen. However, so would the other women in the room.

We ate dinners of chicken or fish with fresh vegetables and potatoes, and they opened an area of the floor for dancing and more mingling. That’s when I became nervous again.

TaShay went right after my hand like an aggressive schoolgirl. “You wanna dance?”

Did I even have a choice? They had an old-school, R&B DJ playing the jams of yesterday, kicking things off with the Philadelphia International Records classic, “Ain’t No Stopping Us Now,” from Gene McFadden and John Whitehead.

I slowed the young woman up with my hand and told her, “Hey, let me digest my food for a minute.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” I told her. “How about right after I make this trip to the bathroom?”

I made a swift exit from our table area, and by the time I had made it halfway to the restrooms, Victoria and Jill were in my face again.

“You really looked good up there,” Victoria told me.