Stormy Knight

by J. D. Mason

  Lance’s words hit home. He could see it in Brown’s eyes.

  “How long have you been in business?” Lance asked.

  The old man looked thoughtful. “Ten years.”

  “Are you ready to retire?”

  He shook his head and sighed heavily. “What’s your point?”

  Lance hadn’t had a point when he first walked into this place, but suddenly, he saw an opportunity. “Is staying here in your best interest, Mr. Brown?”

  The man glared at him. “I got nowhere else to go,” he snapped. “I can’t afford to go no place else.”

  It was a wicked cycle, and Lance felt sorry for him. He needed money to afford to relocate his business, and he wasn’t making any money.

  “Hey, Mr. Brown,” a young black woman said, walking into his store, looking at Lance. “Lola been in today?”

  Lance had the distinct feeling that this young woman knew the answer to that question already. He extended his hand to her. “I’m Lance Whitman from Star Industries.”

  “Ciara,” she said simply, staring suspiciously at him.

  “He was just looking for Lola,” Brown offered. “Ciara and her brother lease the space next door.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Lance said. “You folks sell coffee next door. Right?”

  She nodded. “Coffee. Tea.”

  “Mind if I follow you over? I really could use a cup right now.”

  Both of these people had something else in common besides being tenants of Green Groves strip mall. They both had hopelessness in their eyes.

  Unlike Brown, Ciara wasn’t shy with expressing her feelings. “Lola is one of those people who leads with her heart and not always her head,” Ciara explained. “And I get it. She worked hard for this place and she doesn’t want you people coming in here trying to make her do something she doesn’t want to do.”

  “She stands to make more money selling this place to us than she’s making now.”

  “For some people, it’s not about money.”

  “What’s it about for you, Ciara?”

  She held his gaze. “I’m practical. This place was never meant to make me and my brother rich. It was always just supposed to be a stepping stone to help us move on to bigger and better things.”

  “And is it doing that for you?”

  She smirked. “What do you think?”

  He thought a lot of things. He thought that Mr. Brown was the kind of man who would ultimately go down with the ship, and then say that it was God’s will. He thought that Lola Knight was fighting a losing battle. And he thought that Ciara was probably smarter than anyone else in this whole damn town.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  One week ago, she’d said a silent prayer for Omar Reid to catch a nonfatal, but miserable disease, along the lines of hemorrhoids or something. Now here she was, standing on East Beach in Galveston, Texas, at sunrise, gazing out over the ocean with the man standing behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist, and Lola resting her head back against his broad chest.

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into driving half the night to get here,” she said lazily, caught up in the serenity of this euphoric moment.

  They’d left Blink at around eleven and had driven the six hours to Galveston just in time to see the sun start to come up.

  “I can’t believe you said yes.” He lowered his head and kissed the side of her neck.

  She’d learned several things about Mr. Reid in the six days she’d allowed him to spend time with her. One, he was tall and lean, but certainly not skinny. Omar had a rock-hard body, a result from spending two hours a day in the weight room at the gym. Two, he had some of the softest lips she’d ever come in contact with, and he must’ve studied kissing in college since he was so skilled in that area. Three, he was good at keeping promises. He’d told her that he wouldn’t bring up the subject of the strip mall, and after that first night, he hadn’t even mentioned it. And four, he was almost impulsive. Omar was an impulsive planner. So, even though something like driving to Galveston after dinner the night before might have seemed impulsive, Lola had a feeling that it was well-thought-out with all the necessary arrangements made well in advance. Still, she had reaped the benefits, like standing out on the beach this morning with a good-looking man watching the sun come up over the ocean.

  She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and listened to the sounds of gulls flying overhead, to the waves lapping against the shore, and let the breeze carry away all her worries, at least for the time being.

  “Let’s walk,” he said, carrying his shoes in his hand.

  Lola slipped off her sandals and started to stroll alongside him. Omar held out his hand and waited patiently for her to decide to finally take hold of it.

  “You sure know how to chip away at a girl’s resolve,” she told him.

  “Are you saying this is working?” he asked. “Oh, wait.” He looked at her. “I think I see a chip. Bout time.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You like the challenge and you know it.”

  He grinned.

  Since the first night at Belle’s, he’d taken her to dinner three times and sent her flowers, once at the store and once at her house. He was working hard and she had to admit, she appreciated the effort. Omar was giving her a good, old-fashioned courting, the likes of which she hadn’t seen since— well, shit. Probably never.

  The sand was cool and soft under her feet. His hand, wrapped around hers, was warm and strong. Moments like this made her not want to think about everything going on back home and every time a hint of a thought crept in, Lola pushed it away, and focused on what was happening right here and right now.

  He stopped walking and turned to face her. “Thank you for coming with me.”

  Lola blushed a little. “You’re welcome,” she said softly.

  Omar leaned in and kissed her slowly. It was impossible not to get all weak-kneed at one of his kisses. Lola planted her feet, rested her weight in her heels, and pretended that she wasn’t nearly as affected by them as she really was. But she was always a little light-headed at the end of his kiss.

  “What are we going to do the rest of the day?” she asked, composing herself as orange and gold streaked across the blue sky.

  “How about a nap and then brunch?”

  Lola pondered that question for a few moments and all the ramifications that came with napping with a man who’d kissed her the way he’d just done. “Where?”

  He motioned to his left at a large building of condos. That building was one of his well-planned, impulsive whims. Knowing him, he’d already made a reservation.

  “Separate rooms?” she probed cautiously.

  “Separate beds,” he countered.

  “Clothes on?”

  Omar took his time answering. “Me? Or you?”

  “Ocean view?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay.”

  * * *

  He really was a beautiful man in an understated and cautious kind of way. Lola had slept on the drive down, so she wasn’t sleepy, but she watched him while he slept and really took in those things about him that she found herself surprisingly attracted to, like his hands. Omar had strong and yet elegant hands. The line of his jaw, that thick vein running down the side of his neck, his broad shoulders. But it was his nature that pulled everything else together in a way that made her stare sometimes. He was patient, observant, and considerate. He laughed easily and told bad jokes. Omar Reid did not have one cool gene in his body. The only things missing were a bow tie and pocket protector. But he owned who he was, embraced it, and didn’t apologize for it.

  “Can’t sleep?” he asked.

  Lola hadn’t even realized that he was staring back at her. She shook her head. “No.”

  He stretched out his arm and offered his hand, inviting her into the bed with him. “I won’t bite,” he said. “Not unless you ask.”

  She hesitated at first, but then thought, Why the hell not? I’m grown.
Lola crawled out of her bed and into his. Omar pulled her close, and she rested her head on his chest, sighed, and relaxed into him. When was the last time she’d curled up next to a man? It had been a long time. Too long, and she’d forgotten how good it felt. Omar put his hand under her chin, raised her lips to his, and gave her a delicious and languid kiss. Lola moaned. It had been awhile, longer than awhile since she’d made love. Lola could’ve lied to herself and said that she really wasn’t interested in him like that, but how could she not be interested in him like that?

  He rolled over on top of her and nestled between her thighs. This wasn’t supposed to happen, but she wanted it to happen. At least, she wanted to want it to happen. As his erection became more pronounced and pressed against her, a wave of panic began to wash over her, and that little devil sitting on her shoulder whispered in her ear, Don’t fall for it! It’s a trick! He wants you to sell. That’s all he wants. He wants you to hand over your property so that they can build that superstore and run you out of business.

  Omar moaned and trailed hot kisses down the side of her neck. Her neck! Dammit!

  Lola squirmed. “Omar,” she said, breathless, her eyes rolling in the back of her head.

  He pushed his hips against hers, and Lola sighed.

  His lips left her neck and he found the mounds of her breasts, full and just waiting for someone to pay some attention to them.

  It’s a trick! He’s setting you up, Lola! Hand over that property, girl. You might as well.

  He cupped her breast with one hand and pressed his face against it.

  Yes! she wanted to say. Lola imagined what it would feel like if he freed it from her bra and actually wrapped his lips around her nipple.

  No! Stop him before it’s too late! Stop him before you go too far! that little bastard warned her.

  “Omar,” she said again, this time pushing him away. He raised himself up and stared, confused, into her eyes. “No,” she said simply, painfully.

  He nodded, rolled off of her, and lay next to her, catching his breath, and wishing away an impressive hard-on.

  Lola lay still for a few moments as well, staring up at the ceiling and on the verge of some very frustrated tears. Why couldn’t things be different between them? Why’d they have to be at this crossroads and not just two people who were free to explore each other without the burden of this mess surrounding them? She liked him. She liked everything about him, even the stuff she didn’t like, she liked. Maybe he liked her, too, genuinely liked her. He seemed to, but …

  “Too much too soon?” he asked.

  She nodded without looking at him. “Just a little.”

  They lay silently beside each other for several moments.

  “You hungry?” he suddenly asked, sitting up on the side of the bed.

  Lola sat up, too. “I could use some coffee.”

  “Me too,” he said, slipping into his shoes.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “The Blink, Texas, rumor mill is churning so hard and fast it’s making butter,” Randall Brewer said, grinning at Omar. “I hear you and Lola Knight have been spending quite a bit of time together,” he said, sitting next to Omar at the counter in a Tex-Mex restaurant called La Loma’s near the city and county building.

  Omar knew better than to deny it, and he saw no reason to. “We have been.” He nodded casually in agreement.

  “Working all the angles, I see.” Brewer chuckled.

  Omar was offended by that offhanded statement, but decided to ignore it.

  “She’s got less than a week to accept that offer or they’re pulling it off the table,” Brewer explained.

  Obviously, the man hadn’t spoken to the company representative in the last week, because if he had he’d know that wasn’t true.

  “Actually, I got them to extend the offer for another month,” Omar volunteered.

  Brewer’s friendly expression turned dark. “You pushed this shit for another month?”

  As the city’s chief planner, it was Omar’s job to promote growth and development and to look for opportunities to make that happen. When he’d found this one, the mayor had damn near turned somersaults with excitement and he’d been pushing Omar to get it off the ground in a way he’d never pushed him before.

  “She needs it,” he said simply.

  “Fuck what she needs, Omar,” Brewer shot back. “Lola Knight’s been fucking around on this thing for too damn long. The project should’ve been started and nearly completed by now. And it would’ve been if it wasn’t for her.”

  “We can’t force the woman to sell, Randall,” he argued. “And since she’s keeping up with the property taxes, you can’t take it from her. So, all you can do is hope she decides to sell her property and she needs time to make that decision.”

  Brewer sat back in his chair huffing like a train and turning a deep shade of red. “And they agreed to this?”

  “Reluctantly, but yeah.”

  “And what happens in a month, Omar? What happens if a month from now, Ms. Knight is still sitting her ass in that strip mall trying to sell soap to a community who could give a shit about her? They don’t want her there. You know that and I know that. The people want this superstore. They need it, and she’s holding up fucking progress because of pride.”

  “They’re not offering her much, Randall,” he said. “Even at double the price, she’s going to walk away from this place on the losing end.”

  “It’s not worth shit, man. That place barely passed inspection by the last examiner. I wish to hell that place had fallen out of code. If it had fallen out of code, which it nearly did the last time we checked, I’d snatch it right out from under her ass.”

  “Well you can’t snatch it, so be fucking patient,” he said, starting to give in to his own frustration.

  Brewer obviously didn’t care for Omar’s tone. “You brought this project to me, Reid,” he said coolly. “You brought these people in here, this big corporate monster, talking fancy and looking shiny and new, promising to make Blink, Texas, the crown jewel of northeast Texas. Got me salivating over this shit, puffing my chest and telling anyone who’d listen, how fucking glorious this superstore was going to be for all of us here in this town. Jobs. Money. The only obstruction has been Lola Knight, and just when I know that woman is close to cracking under the weight of this whole thing bearing down on her, you go and buy her some time, because why? Because you’re fucking her?”

  “You watch your fucking mouth,” Omar shot back.

  “No, you watch yours. You may have brought this prospect to me, Reid, but I don’t need you to close this deal.”

  “Who’s going to close it? You? I’m the one who brokered it, Mayor. I know all the ins and outs of that contract and I know all the loopholes, some they don’t even know about. So if you’re threatening to get rid of me and find someone else to close this out, I’d like to see you try.” Omar leaned back in his seat and waited for the man to toss out another threat.

  Brewer was all hot air and shallow promises. The title of mayor in this town really didn’t account for much. He was a figurehead, the kind who cut ribbons and sat in as grand master at parades. Everyone knew that it was the city council who really had the power in this town, and Omar’s position fell under their jurisdiction, so Brewer was powerless to take any action against Omar on this issue.

  The two men sat in tense silence for several minutes before continuing this discussion. Brewer spoke first.

  “Has she given you any indication that she is even considering their offer?”

  “She hasn’t said anything to me and I haven’t pressed her on the issue.”

  “What? Are you in love or something?” he asked sarcastically.

  Omar didn’t even bother to justify that dumb-ass question with an answer. Of course he was in love, but that was none of this sonofabitch’s business.

  “Just so you know, her tenants aren’t happy about the situation,” Brewer offered.

  “She’s only got two. Which
one?”

  “Neither one of them,” he said. “They’re locked into leases with her, but both of them are worried that if Lola walks away from this deal and ends up losing the store, they’re going to end up ass up and broke and out on the streets.”

  “I’m sure she won’t let that happen,” he said, sounding more certain than he actually was.

  “Are you?” Brewer asked. “I don’t think they’re so convinced. Especially that poetry-reading kid. Tito? Is that his name?”

  “So, what are you getting at?”

  Brewer was implying something or leading up to something, but he was being pretty damn coy about it. Omar didn’t know where this was going, but he knew instinctively that it was probably not a good place.

  “All it’s going to take is for her to miss one property tax payment, Omar,” he reminded him. “Just one. And Lola’s out on her ass. She’s a payment away from being broke. If you’re not in her ear now, man, while you’re whispering in it, you’d better get in it and remind her that the wagons are circling.”

  “She knows that.”

  He rocked his head. “Then let’s hope she heeds the warning and does the right thing, the only thing, that makes sense.”

  Brewer had made a solid point but it was one that was already deeply imbedded in Omar. He’d made and kept his promise to Lola about not bringing up the issue of her selling her property, but that wasn’t necessarily a good promise. He’d brokered another month for her to take this offer, but a month would be up just like that, and Lola, on the surface, didn’t seem to be any closer to making the decision that he and everyone else believed she needed to make, at all.

  “I’ll talk to her,” he reluctantly said.

  He tossed back what was left of his beer, looked across the room, and saw Lola glance over at him, seconds before walking out the door.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later and Omar was in his car, driving on the highway. He’d tried calling her twice, but she wasn’t answering, so he drove to the boutique, hoping to find her there. Her place was closed, but Tito’s door was open.

  “Hey, man,” Omar said to Tito sitting behind the counter, playing video games on a television he had mounted on the wall.