by J. D. Mason
Was he serious? Lola watched fascinated and mesmerized by Omar wearing his stark white button-up tucked in and belted inside expensive jeans, and leather shoes, looking like a chaperone in this place.
“It’s by Amiri Baraka and called ‘Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note.’”
Silence fell across the room in homage to the mention of the name Amiri Baraka, and Omar stuffed his hands in his pockets and started reciting the poem from memory.
Lately, I’ve become accustomed to the way
The ground opens up and envelopes me
He finished the whole damn thing without missing a beat, graciously thanked everyone for they applause, took a sip from his beer, and made his way through the crowd back to Lola. Moments later a young sistah slayed the mic using words that made it hard for him not to cringe. She threw around words such as pussy, blunts, revolution, and empowerment like rocks, every one of them pinging him upside the head. It was hard not to laugh, and hard not to feel like it was Lola’s turn to rescue him.
He leaned in close to Lola. “What did she just say?”
Lola took hold of his arm and led him to the door. “C’mon, Omar. Let’s get you out of here.”
He weakly resisted. “I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”
“It only gets more graphic as the night goes on,” she explained, finally getting him outside. “By midnight your ears will be bleeding.”
“Then let me repay you for saving my life,” he said. “Let me buy you a drink.”
“You need to let that go.”
She had to admit, he was handsome, in that conservative, strong, grown man kind of way. Handsome, and so not her type.
“I can’t,” he said simply. “I’ve tried and I can’t.”
She waited for a punch line or something, but he looked completely serious. “What’s this really about, Omar?” she asked seriously. “What are you trying to do here?”
“I’m trying to get a date.”
“You can’t possibly believe that I would want to date you with everything going on,” she argued.
“I know that I shouldn’t,” he calmly explained. “But I’m not one to walk away from a challenge, Lola.”
“This isn’t a challenge,” she snapped. “This is absolutely not going to happen. I don’t like you. I think I’ve made that clear.”
“No,” he corrected her, “you don’t like what I’m doing. There’s a difference.”
“That’s plenty for me.”
“You’re a beautiful woman, Lola,” he said.
His admission caught her off guard, but Lola was quick. “Thank you, but trust me, my personality is horrible.”
He smiled. She’d never seen him smile before. “Your personality is challenging, but I wouldn’t call it horrible.”
“Because you really have no idea who I am.”
“Then let me find out.”
He was as persistent on this issue as he was in business. She had to give him credit. At least he was consistent.
“My conviction is at stake,” she eventually said. “If I give in to going on a date with you, then what’s next?” she asked solemnly. “I sign over my property to Star Industries?”
His expression turned serious. “One’s got nothing to do with the other. I promise.”
“And I should trust your promise?”
“My word is everything, Lola,” he said confidently. “You might not like what I do, but I do it honestly and I do it with only the best intentions.”
She took her time considering the situation. There was no real good reason to go out with Omar Reid. Yes, he was attractive and he smelled good, but those things meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. So, why was she even considering it? It could’ve had something to do with the way he was looking at her, or the fact that he stood at least six-two, maybe six-three, and she had always had a thing for tall guys. It could’ve been the fact that the two of them were complete and total opposites and she was intrigued.
“If nothing comes of it, nothing comes of it,” he said. “We go back to business as usual.”
She stared into his eyes. “And if something does come of it?” Not that anything would, but she was curious about his response.
“Then we figure it out.”
Again, she took her time answering, and her answer surprised her even more than him.
“One time. One drink. And after that, you leave me alone.” Those were her terms. He could take them or leave them.
“I only get one shot at this?”
This? She still had no idea what “this” was that he was referring to.
“I’ll meet you at Belle’s.”
“Or we could ride together,” he offered.
“Don’t push it,” she said, brushing past him and walking toward her car. He followed her and opened the door for her before she could reach for it.
He smiled again. “Old school. Remember?”
CHAPTER SIX
Omar ordered another beer at Belle’s, and Lola settled on a white wine.
“So, how long have you been an Amiri Baraka fan?” Lola asked, sitting across from him.
Omar thought for a moment. “Who?”
She laughed. “The poem you performed tonight? It was written by Amiri…”
“Oh,” he said, suddenly remembering. “Baraka. Yeah.” Omar nodded. “About four hours.”
“Yeah, that’s about three hours longer than I would’ve guessed,” she said sarcastically.
He laughed. “Was it that bad?”
Lola nodded. “But courageous. You learned that poem just to try to get a date with me?”
He scratched his cheek. “Yeah. I figured I’d have to get creative in order to get your attention.”
She stared at him for several moments before responding. “And you really expect me to believe that this has nothing to do with my property?”
“Tell me how you think this is supposed to work, Lola?” he probed.
She shrugged. “You ask me out. Get me on your good side. Next thing I know, I’m signing over the deed to my property.”
“Sounds easy. And I must be one hell of an attractive and charming man to get you on my good side.”
She shifted in her seat, sighed, and rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying nothing else makes sense.”
“I can’t just be attracted to you?”
“Sure you can. But under these circumstances, I’m just hard-pressed to believe that’s all it is.”
“But that is all it is,” he assured her, holding her gaze. “That’s what it’s been from the moment I first saw you, Lola. Unfortunately, everything else got in the way.”
The first time he’d laid eyes on Lola Knight was when he’d met with one of Star Industries’ surveyors. Omar spotted her pulling her car up in the parking lot of the strip mall and watched her walk inside her boutique. He was absolutely mesmerized by the woman, and he had no idea that she owned that piece of property that he would undoubtedly try to convince her to sell.
Lola looked a little caught off guard by his candidness. “But even if everything else hadn’t ‘gotten in the way,’ Omar, you and I are two very different kinds of people and I don’t think we have anything in common.”
“Hence this date.”
“It’s not a date,” she responded coolly.
He smiled. “Meeting?”
Again with the head shake and eye roll. “I just agreed to come because you were nice enough to help me with my car, and to get you to stop asking me out.”
“You’re welcome.”
Lola sort of chuckled. “You’d hate me,” she said, resting here elbows on the table. “I’m unorganized. I’m impulsive. I’m emotional, Omar. Overly emotional. You’ve seen me. I’m stubborn. I don’t even iron. And look at you.” She waved her hand at him. “Nice pressed shirt. Starched?”
“Lightly.”
She nodded. “Polished shoes. They’re always polished. You’re disciplined and methodical and controlled.”
“And neat. Have you seen the inside of my car?” she asked.
“As a matter of fact…”
“Horrible! But that’s indicative of the kind of person I am. Really.” She leaned back in her chair. “I am not your type.”
“Is that your argument?” he countered. “That because you feel we’re opposites, that we couldn’t possibly sustain a relationship?”
“That’s it. I think it’s a pretty solid argument.”
“Weak, Lola,” he shot back, again catching her by surprise. “I expected better.” He leaned on the table this time. “I’m a grown man, Lola. I’ve been married, divorced, and helped raise a kid into a grown man. I have lived all over the world, with all sorts of people. I’ve been shot at. Slept in deserts. Saved lives. Had my life saved. Even ate bugs to survive.” That last part was a lie, but he needed it for effect. “And after all of that, I think I can handle having a relationship with an impulsive, unorganized, emotional woman who doesn’t like to iron.”
“Did I mention that I was militant?” she said, raising her chin in defiance.
He raised his, too. “Good.”
She tried so hard not to smile, but in the end, she failed. “Don’t think you’re making any headway, here.”
He took another sip of his beer. “Oh, I’m feeling pretty confident.”
And he was. Omar had broken through that stone wall of hers, which he had been butting his head up against for the last six months. She was so pretty when she smiled. All that stress of these months disappeared from her face and she looked like the weight of the world was lifted off her shoulders.
The two of them quipped back and forth like that through another round of drinks.
“Okay, so I don’t dislike you as much as I did before I sat down here at this table,” Lola cautiously informed him.
“Then I’d say we made progress.”
“But to what end?” she asked, slowly becoming serious again. “There’s still an elephant in the room, Omar. And I don’t think he’s budging anytime soon.”
She was right about that. Lola wasn’t any closer to taking that offer now than she was before they sat down. And he wasn’t any less convinced that she needed to take the money and run.
“What was supposed to happen here tonight?” she asked solemnly. “Were you supposed to change my mind?” She shrugged. “Was I supposed to change yours?”
“Maybe you were just supposed to dislike me a little bit less than you did before you sat down at this table,” he concluded. “And that’s all.”
Lola’s mood darkened and heavy tears glistened in her eyes. “If I take that offer then I lose,” she said sadly.
“Winning? Losing? Is that how you see it? They’ll pay you for your property, Lola. You can start over.”
“I’ve worked too hard to start over. It’s simple for you and Brewer,” she explained, less combatively this time. “To you it’s just about money. I take their money, close down my shop, and open it up someplace else. Done.”
“Maybe it is that simple. Maybe you’re overthinking things.”
She took a deep breath. “I don’t make a lot of money from that shop. Barely enough to keep it open. Even if I take that offer, Omar, it’s not enough. I’d end up paying somebody to rent space because I couldn’t buy it outright. Look around. You’ll see that I’m right.”
Omar hadn’t bothered to look around. He’d just assumed that some money was better than none.
“How much longer can you afford to stay where you are?”
“A few months maybe.”
“And then?”
She didn’t have an answer.
“If the city takes the property, you walk away with nothing, Lola. And all those years you’ve put into that place mean nothing. They’re biding their time hovering like vultures. Don’t just give it to them.”
Lola slipped the strap of her purse over her shoulder and stood up to leave. Omar stood up, too.
“I am a dreamer, Omar. That’s not going to change, and I still think that a miracle is going to sneak up and surprise the hell out of me.” Lola sighed. “I had a nice time.” She smiled. “Thank you.”
Omar followed her out, walked her to her car, and held the door open for her. “Lola,” he said before she climbed inside.
She stopped and turned. Omar leaned in, half expecting for her to back away, but she didn’t. When his lips met hers, Lola let her eyes close and accepted his kiss. Omar wanted to taste her, though. He placed one hand on her waist, pulled her into him, and gently parted her lips with his tongue. She tasted like wine, and smelled like lemons, and he didn’t want to stop. She moaned, and the sound of it must’ve caught her by surprise, because just that quickly, Lola pulled away from him, stared up at him like she couldn’t believe what he’d just done, and turned to get into the car.
“Good night,” she said abruptly.
He closed her door, then leaned down by the window. “I want to see you again, Lola,” he said.
She started her car. “I don’t think so, Omar.” She looked at him.
He was stubborn, too. That kiss was the beginning, not the end. He wouldn’t let it be the end. “Have dinner with me tomorrow.”
“Omar,” she said, frustrated.
“I’m just going to keep asking.”
Lola paused, pursed her lips together, and then nodded. “Seven?”
“Seven. I’ll pick you up.”
“I can meet you.”
“No. I want to pick you up.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lance Whitman had worked hard to broker this deal between Star Industries and the city planner Omar Reid for Blink, Texas. This location was prime for a superstore. Sitting centrally in the northeast region of Texas, it offered the best income revenue in this location, outside of Dallas. As the youngest and newest business development manager in the corporation, he saw this as an opportunity to truly make his mark and to solidify his position in this company if he could just close on this deal. Only one thing stood between him and victory, however, and that was Green Groves, a relic from the seventies that should’ve been torn down a decade ago.
Lance had flown in for another meeting with the mayor and Reid. The three men sat in a conference room of the small city and county building. The politics here were strange. The mayor, in this case, was basically nothing more than a figurehead. Reid was the main player in this game, and he’d been the one tasked with getting that woman to sell off her property so that they could finally move forward and break ground on a project already months behind schedule.
“Our offer is more than generous,” Lance reminded them. “I don’t understand what the holdup is.”
His irritation was starting to filter through, but Lance caught himself and reined it in. He was still representing Star Industries, and he had to keep his cool and not give in to the frustration of dealing with these ignorant-ass people.
“Lola is … sentimental,” Brewer offered. “Too sentimental for her own good, or the good of the community.”
“With good reason,” Reid offered in the woman’s defense. “She’s been there a long time, worked hard to achieve her goal and so, yeah. She’s reluctant. But I believe, in time, she’ll come around.”
“Time is what we’re quickly running out of, Omar,” Lance said, locking gazes with the man. Apparently, he had some sentimentality of his own to contend with. “The head of our development group is not willing to budge on our offer. Either she accepts it or we walk and we take this project over to Clark City.”
That location wasn’t as ideal as this one, but it would suffice, and he could salvage some of his budding reputation.
“That won’t be necessary.” The mayor shot a compelling glare at Reid.
“Perhaps I should speak to Ms. Knight myself,” Lance offered.
Reid sighed. “No. She won’t talk to you. I’ll continue working with her,” he assured both men.
Reid excused himself at the conc
lusion of the meeting, but Lance lingered with Brewer. “Do you think he can convince her to sell?” he asked Blink’s mayor.
“I doubt it. She’s holding off because she can, but she can’t maintain that place for much longer.”
“Longer than I’d like, Mr. Mayor,” he said, getting ready to leave.
* * *
Lance had several hours before his flight left and he decided to visit the planned site for the next mega-mart. Green Groves sat smack dab in the middle of the development, perfectly situated off the highway that connected three counties. The parking lot was empty, of course, except for a few cars of the remaining tenants. He spotted an older gentleman sitting inside Brown’s Tailoring and Alterations and decided to pay the man a visit.
“Mr. Brown, I presume,” he said, entering the store, smiling and extending his hand to shake.
The man smiled back and looked hungry for business. “Yes, sir. What can I help you with today?”
“I was hoping you could tell me where I could find Lola Knight.”
Disappointment shadowed Mr. Brown’s once enthusiastic smile. “If she’s not in the boutique, then I’d assume that she’s gone to lunch.”
He nodded casually, but decided not to leave just yet. “I’m actually a representative from Star Industries.”
“The people who want to build that new store?” the old man probed.
“Yes, sir,” Lance said, staring curiously at the older gentleman. “I’d be interested to hear how you feel about the project, Mr. Brown.”
Brown looked surprised to be asked the question. “Me?”
“Yes. Most people in the community are looking forward to the convenience of a mega-mart. Are you?”
All of a sudden, Brown put up his guard. “Lola should be back in an hour.”
“It’s okay to have an opinion,” Lance said stiffly.
“I have an opinion that unless you need that nice suit of yours altered, you should leave.”
“You’re losing money, Mr. Brown. It doesn’t take a genius to see that. And for what? Loyalty?” Lance honestly felt sorry for this man, sacrificing his dream for an old strip mall. “When it’s all said and done, do you really believe that this place will be standing in six months?”