Another Woman's Man

by Shelly Ellis

  “Will you all just give her a chance to respond?” Herb exclaimed. “You may have feelers out there, Xavier, but Dawn is—”

  Then suddenly they all started talking at once.

  “I know, but I don’t think it’s—”

  “No one wants to impugn on—”

  “Xavier, why can’t you—”

  “I’ll do it!” Dawn blurted out, throwing up her hands. “I’ll volunteer to be the art teacher.”

  Herb beamed while Constance, Raquel, and Xavier stared at her like she had just sprouted another head.

  Dawn was somewhat surprised herself that she had said those words. She wasn’t a bleeding heart by any means. Volunteering at a community center wasn’t one of the activities at the top of her list. And after the little conversation she and Xavier had in the corridor, he wasn’t one of her favorite people right now. But she was tired of everyone at the dinner table going around and around in circles, and irritated that everyone was making assumptions about what she would and wouldn’t do even though they didn’t know a damn thing about her.

  “So where and when should I be there?” she asked before eating another scoop of her brûlée.

  Chapter 8

  Dawn opened the glass door to the industrial-looking concrete building, giving one last wary look over her shoulder at her Mercedes. She wondered if it would be okay in a sketchy neighborhood like this. She had no idea that the community center would be nestled in a city block filled almost exclusively with liquor stores and run-down buildings. She also wondered for the fifth time that morning what the hell she was doing up this early on a Saturday and why she had agreed to teach an art class to a group of pimple-faced teenagers. What drug had she been smoking when she agreed to do a favor for the likes of Xavier Hughes, the same man who acted like he had to protect Herb from her?

  I must have been out of my damn mind, she thought ruefully, drinking some of her cappuccino from her oversized paper cup.

  “Oh, suck it up,” a voice in her head chastised. “Drink your coffee. Maybe you’ll wake up a little and it’ll brighten that surly mood of yours!”

  She pushed her sunglasses to the crown of her head and walked across the rainbow-colored linoleum tiles, which had seen better days. A woman sat at the community center’s reception desk and a few teenage boys lingered near the counter, laughing as they chugged bottles of Gatorade and dribbled a basketball between them.

  There was a reason Dawn’s mother had never trusted her to babysit any of her younger siblings. Dawn never would have drowned her sisters Stephanie or Lauren in the bathtub or left them alone on the side of the road, but she was not considered the “nurturer” of the Gibbons family—not by a long shot. Kids simply weren’t her thing, and yet here she was with her chalks, pencils, and an oversized sketch pad tucked under her arm, prepared to teach Art 101 to a class full of kids.

  I’m doing this for Herb, she told herself. Her father—not Xavier—had asked her a favor and she was granting it. That’s all.

  She sat her supplies and her coffee cup on the counter. “Morning.”

  “Good morning! How can I . . .” The receptionist paused to glare at the boys standing near her desk. “OK, Delonte and Eddy, if you guys are going to bounce that ball, do it in the gym!” She turned back to Dawn and gave an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about that. How can I help you?”

  “I’m supposed to teach an art class here today.”

  The Hispanic woman’s smile faltered. “Art class? I’m not aware of any art class.” She began to flip through a binder on her desk and scanned a column on one of the pages. “Are you sure it’s today?”

  Oh, good job, Xavier, Dawn thought. They don’t even know that I’m supposed to be here!

  “I think so. At least that’s what I was told. Umm . . .” Dawn riffled through her purse in search of Xavier’s business card where he had written the information on the back. “I think it was scheduled for ten-thirty. Xavier Hughes invited me to—”

  “You lookin’ for Professor X?” one of the teenage boys piped.

  Dawn turned and stared over her shoulder to find a towering, rail-thin teen standing behind her. His mahogany-hued face was covered with acne and blackheads and he had a little peach fuzz over his lip that passed for a thin mustache. He wore a tank top, basketball shorts, and a baseball hat turned to the back. He twirled a basketball on his index finger and grinned.

  “Huh?” she asked.

  “You lookin’ for Professor X?”

  When she continued to stare at him blankly, he rolled his eyes. “Professor X . . . Mr. Hughes? That’s who you lookin’ for, right?”

  First pumpkin, now Professor X? Dawn almost snorted with laughter. The kids at the center called Xavier by the same nickname as a superhero?

  She turned away from the counter and faced the teenager. “Uh, yes, I’m . . . I’m looking for, umm, Professor X.”

  The boy jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “He’s down at the basketball court. I can show you where he’s at.”

  Dawn turned back to the receptionist, who nodded. “Go right ahead. Delonte and Eddy can take you there. Just sign in and take a badge with you.”

  A few minutes later, Dawn trailed behind her two teenage escorts down a long hallway bordered by orange-and-gray-colored lockers and decorated with posters and construction-paper artwork.

  “I’m Delonte,” the one with the peach fuzz said.

  “I’m Dawn.”

  “You the new art teacher?” He turned around, walking backward as he spoke to her. “I see you got all that stuff.” He gestured to her supplies, then began to spin the basketball on his finger again.

  “I guess you can say that. I’m the art teacher at least for today.”

  He smiled. “Then I’ma be sure to show up to art class from now on.” He then gave her a wink and turned back around.

  Dawn shook her head in exasperation. Teenage boys were a lot bolder than she remembered. She wondered if he realized she was old enough to have a son his age.

  Delonte shoved one of the two heavy steel doors open and the trio stepped into the community center’s indoor basketball court. The heavy thud of the bouncing basketballs, the squeak of sneakers over parquet floors, and the shouts and laughter echoed off the ceilings and cement walls, making Dawn instantly want to slap her hands over her ears to block out the sound.

  It looked like she had walked in during the middle of a boisterous basketball game. A few boys and girls stood near the bleachers, either cheering on the players or barking taunts from the sidelines. Half of the twelve players were wearing T-shirts. The others were bare-chested. The boys raced up and down the court, passing the ball and attempting slam dunks.

  Dawn smirked. You’d think they were playing in the NBA finals, with this type of enthusiasm.

  “We can tell Professor X that you’re here,” Delonte volunteered. “He’s playing right now, though.”

  “No, that’s OK.” She pointed toward a row of nearby bleachers. “I’ll wait over here for him until he’s finished.”

  Delonte and Eddy nodded before strolling off. Dawn walked toward the bleachers, climbed a few steps, then sat down with her sketch pad on her lap. She finished the rest of her cappuccino and watched the game.

  It took a while for her to spot Xavier. She barely recognized him now that he wasn’t wearing a business suit and tie. His shirt must have been among the pile of clothes on the other side of the gym because all he had on now was a pair of black drawstring basketball shorts and black sneakers. Standing there among the other players, he looked almost as young as they did.

  He doesn’t look bad, either, she admitted, admiring his physique as he dribbled the ball and shouted to his teammates.

  Not bad at all.

  He was lanky, but he also had sinewy cords of muscle along his arms and legs and an enticing set of washboard abs that glistened with sweat. A triangle of light, curly hair ran down his chest to his stomach, growing slightly denser at the waistband of h
is shorts. He had the swimmer-like build that Dawn had always admired, that she had always lusted after.

  Xavier landed a jump shot and his teammates went wild.

  I wonder if he’s as good in bed as he is on the court, she thought as she watched him being given a series of high fives and fist bumps.

  “OK, where the hell did that come from?” a voice in her head asked.

  Not sure.

  She thought that she had resolved that Xavier wasn’t her type, that he left a nasty taste in her mouth whenever she was around him. And she knew lusting after her future brother-in-law was wrong in so many ways. But as she watched the basketball game draw to a close, Dawn’s shameless thoughts didn’t disappear. She imagined for a few fleeting minutes what it would be like to roll around naked with Xavier Hughes.

  The boys dispersed and Xavier walked across the court to grab his T-shirt, a towel to wipe his face, and a bottle of water. He looked up and finally spotted her sitting on one of the bleachers. When he did, her heart fluttered a little.

  Shit, she thought. That was worse than sex fantasies! This nonsense has to stop!

  She didn’t know what had gotten into her today.

  “Hey!” he called out. “So you made it!”

  “I told you I would, didn’t I?” She pointed to the stack of supplies sitting on the bench beside her. “And I came prepared, but it looks like you forgot what time I was supposed to teach your class. You told me to be here by ten thirty.” She pulled up the sleeve of her top and glanced down at her watch. “It’s now ten forty-five.”

  Xavier climbed the bleachers, his long legs allowing him to take the stairs two at a time. He plopped down on the bench beside her. Unfortunately for her, he still didn’t have his shirt on. Now the physique she admired from a distance was only inches away from her.

  Damn, he even smells sexy.

  “Stop that!” the voice in her head chastised. “He’s your sister’s fiancé!”

  The world might think the Gibbons girls were wanton women, but in reality they operated by their own strict code of ethics. One of those rules meant that they never, ever competed for men. They certainly would never steal another sister’s man! Constance hadn’t grown up with Dawn, but she was still her sister by blood, and the same rules applied in this situation, in Dawn’s mind.

  To demonstrate her sincerity, she scooted to her right, putting even more distance between her and temptation. She pretended not to notice his sweat-slicked body and willed her disobedient hormones to get the hell under control.

  Xavier wiped the perspiration from his face then tossed his towel around his neck, unaware of the inner battle she was waging.

  “I didn’t forget the time,” he explained. “I told you that it was at ten-thirty, but the class isn’t really scheduled until eleven-thirty.”

  “Why would you tell me the class started an hour earlier?”

  “Well, I figured if I gave you a fake time to show up, you’d definitely make it to the class when I needed you to be there.”

  “Excuse me? You thought you needed to trick me into being on time today?”

  “In my defense, you did show up late to Herb’s get-together last week.”

  “By fifteen minutes!” she shouted with mock outrage, making him laugh. “And you were late too!”

  “I had a good reason, though.”

  “Oh, and I didn’t?”

  He shrugged and gave a knowing smile before drinking from his water bottle.

  “Are you always going to be this easy to work with?” she asked sarcastically. “You’re just hell-bent on being a pain in the ass, aren’t you?”

  He looked legitimately surprised by those words. “How am I a pain in the ass?”

  “Well, let’s start with you trying to trick me into being on time . . . also, you warning me not to take advantage of my father. You’ve been more than just a little off-putting, shall we say.”

  His smile disappeared. “I’m sorry about that. I just had to be sure that both you and Herb were going into this with the same good intentions.”

  “And do you feel sure about it now?”

  His gazed at her, assessing her silently for several seconds. “Yeah, I think I am.”

  Their eyes met and an odd sensation passed over her. The cacophony of sound in the gym around them seemed to fade. Dawn could feel a flush of heat in her cheeks. He licked his lips and her fantasies shifted from what it would be like to roll around naked with him to what it would be like to lean forward and kiss him right there in the gym.

  Dawn looked away, breaking their mutual gaze. “So,” she said, “how’d you end up working with kids at a community center anyway? You don’t seem like the type to me.”

  He furrowed his brows and took another sip. “And what type would that be, exactly?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I guess . . .” She shrugged. “Not you. You’re pretty conservative. Straitlaced. You know what I mean. I would imagine this is more a gig for a dreadlocked brothah who does spoken word at Poetry Jam Fridays or walks around with a dog-eared copy of The Autobiography of Malcolm X in his back pocket.”

  Xavier lowered his bottle and grinned. “Well, as you can see, I don’t have dreads. I don’t think I could successfully write a haiku, let alone recite poetry onstage but”—he stood from the bleachers and she followed suit—“I do have a copy of The Autobiography of Malcolm X. It’s not dog-eared, but I’ve read it a couple of times.”

  They slowly walked down the bleacher steps, back to the basketball court.

  “I guess the real reason I like coming here is because I like being around kids,” he explained. “They’ve got a good energy. It’s a helluva lot better than what you find in the corporate world every day, that’s for damn sure. I started volunteering here about nine years ago for a sociology project during my junior year in college. I’ve been coming back ever since.”

  Dawn paused as she climbed down the final step. She stared at him in shock. “Wait, you were a junior in college nine years ago? Exactly how old are you, Xavier?”

  “Twenty-nine,” he answered, casually taking another drink from his bottle. “I hit the big three-oh next month, though.”

  Twenty-nine? Dawn gaped. He was eight years younger than her! No wonder he had looked so young on the basketball court. She was lusting after an infant! But it made sense. He and Constance had practically grown up together. They had to be around the same age.

  Damn, Dawn thought. Well, that was certainly the bucket of cold water she needed. He was off-limits not only because he was engaged to her sister, but because she didn’t date younger men. A cougar-in-training she was not.

  “So how old are you?” he countered.

  “Too damn old for you to ask me that question.”

  “Fair enough.” He started walking again and she followed him. “Look, I’m going to take a quick shower and change clothes. I’ll definitely be back in enough time to show you where we’re holding the art class, though.”

  “OK, I guess I’ll wander around for a bit to kill some time.” She looked around the gym. “I’ll go exploring and meet you back here in thirty minutes, if that works.”

  He looked her up and down. “You know, I can show you where the women’s locker room is too if you need to change clothes.”

  Change clothes? Dawn looked down at herself. She was wearing a plum-colored, fitted V-neck cashmere sweater, dark-wash skinny jeans, and high-heeled black calfskin boots. Compared to what she usually wore, her current ensemble was pretty boring. It had been an inner battle not to throw on more accessories or a more eye-catching top.

  “What’s wrong with my clothes?” she asked.

  “That’s what you wear to paint?”

  “We’re sketching, not painting!” She dropped her hand to her hip. “Besides, don’t tell me you’re going to be anal about this too! If I had to clear my wardrobe with you before I came here, you should have told me, Professor X!”

  He shook his head and raised his hand in de
fense. “Hey, wear what you want. It doesn’t make a difference to me.” He turned around and headed toward another set of steel double doors. “But if the guys in the class are more focused on you than on their sketches and no one gets any art done, then we know who to blame, don’t we?”

  “All right, quiet down! Quiet!” Xavier closed his eyes and sighed as the noise continued.

  Dawn leaned against the steel desk behind her and fought back a smile. It looked like Xavier was having no luck calming down the room of thirty or so kids ranging in age from eleven to sixteen. They continued to laugh and shout at one another. One was dancing in the corner. Another was loudly reciting a popular hip-hop tune. Two were shooting spitballs across the room through bendy straws, using their sketch pads and easels as protective shields.

  Finally, Xavier raised his fingers to his lips and let out an ear-piercing whistle that made everyone stop in their tracks. Dawn flinched at the harsh sound, but it worked. The clamor finally died down and all the kids looked toward the front of the room.

  “Thank you.” He then pointed to Dawn. “All right, I want you all to say hi to Miss Gibbons.”

  She waved to everyone. “Hello.”

  “Hi!”

  “Hey!”

  “What’s poppin’, cutie?” one boy yelled, making a few in the class erupt into a chorus of laughter.

  Xavier gave the stare-of-death to the wannabe Casanova before he continued.

  “Miss Gibbons was nice enough to fill in for Mr. Monroe. She’ll be teaching today’s class. So I’m going to hand things over to her for now. Tell them a little bit about yourself.”

  All eyes in the room suddenly focused on her.

  Dawn was accustomed to hobnobbing at gallery openings and shaking hands at benefits, but she had never experienced the same level of nervousness that she felt now with more than two dozen teenagers staring at her.

  She stepped forward. “Well, my name’s Dawn Gibbons. I’m not a teacher, but I’m an artist and the director for Templeton Gallery in Northwest, so I think I know enough to get us through today’s lesson.” She laughed anxiously and looked around the room. “I heard your last lesson was sketching still life. I thought it might be a fun exercise to move on to portraiture.”