by Tina Martin
“Tell me something—how is chasing down Savannah’s friend, Jemisha, to buy a house considered, laying low?”
A chuckle escaped his lips as he stretched. “Let me set the record straight—I didn’t chase anybody down.”
“Really, because I thought it was interesting that y’all both ended up visiting me and Savannah on the same weekend and now I hear you’re suddenly in the market for a house.”
“There’s nothing sudden about it. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. Zoya told me Jemisha was a real estate agent, and I thought I’d reach out to her.”
“You’re in the market for a home?”
“I am. My business is here. I think it’s time to plant some roots. This townhome has served me well over the years, but I need a house. A big house.”
Harding chuckled. “Enough with the games, Mordecai. What are you really up to?”
“Why do I have to be up to something? I’ve always wanted a house.”
“Since when?”
“Maybe since my big brother and little sister got hitched and I’m still here doing nothing—well nothing in the way of personal growth, that is. Bulging muscles don’t count.”
“Don’t say you’ve done nothing. You’ve been working on the business. You’re a legit business owner. You’re a personal trainer who trains other personal trainers after you’ve opened two of the most profitable gyms in Wilmington. You should be very proud of your accomplishments.”
“Trust me, I am proud but lately, I’ve been feeling like something’s missing. I want more. I want a home. A family.”
Harding chuckled again. “I don’t recall ever hearing you talk about wanting a family. I remember you saying you liked your freedom—that you didn’t want to be tied down.”
He had said that, hadn’t he? That was before he saw how good marriage could be. It was working for Harding. Zoya and Tennyson were happy and in love. In the back of his mind, he’d always wanted marriage but when he discovered his father wasn’t one-hundred percent committed to their mother, he shunned marriage. If a man as amazing as his father wasn’t satisfied with one woman, how could he be? For his entire life, he thought he’d inherited that gene from his father. Maybe he had. The time had come to fight against it – to not let that hold him back any longer.
“I do like my freedom,” Mordecai answered. “I’m sure at some level, you do as well, but that didn’t stop you from marrying Savannah.”
“Of course not. Being married doesn’t take away your freedom. It just makes you committed to one woman, and actually it shouldn’t make you committed to the woman. You should already be committed. That’s what you need to be sure you can handle—the commitment part.”
“I can handle it.”
“Sure about that?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
“Then why did your voice just rise two pitches?”
Mordecai laughed. “Okay—look—it’ll be a new concept for me, but the right woman will make me forget all about my old ways. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?”
“Nah, bruh. Your old ways should be ancient history before you go looking for your forever woman. She’ll have her own set of standards. Women know when a man is serious about settling down or when he’s just a playboy looking to waste their time. My advice to you is, take a few weeks to think this over. Don’t rush to settle down, buy a house and all that just because two members of the family have gotten married. Buying a house is a major commitment and it won’t change your personality or make you see women in a new light. And it’s a lot of work—just like marriage.”
“It seems to be working for you.”
“It is because I was prepared for it. That’s what I’m suggesting you do—prepare for it.”
“You’re right. I think I’ll schedule some time with Jemisha to discuss it.”
“That’s what you got from everything I just said?”
“Yeah.”
“Jemisha’s a real estate agent, Mordecai, not a therapist.”
“She’ll be whatever I need her to be…with her beautiful self.”
Harding grinned. “See, that’s your problem. You can’t be that flirtatious with a woman up front, especially one you’re interested in.”
“Who said I was interested in Jemisha?”
“It’s obvious. When you two were here visiting this past weekend, I saw you catching glimpses here and there.”
He cracked a smile. He could deny it, but Harding would be even more suspicious if he did because it was the truth. He was having a hard time taking his eyes off of her.
“A’ight. I gotta run. I got some paperwork to fill out.”
Mordecai looked at the three-page form he was supposed to fill out. Nothing about reading and filling out the form interested him. Why couldn’t he just email her?
Actually, why couldn’t he email her?
A sly smile touched his lips. He stood up from the table, removed the business card she’d given him from his wallet then opened his laptop to begin an email correspondence to her.
Chapter 5
Friday…
Yeah, it was Friday. So what?
After painfully slothing through a long week of nothingness, Friday was no reward for Jemisha. It was just another day – another twenty-four hours of sitting at her computer, staring at the screen, hoping, wishing and praying for one client. Just one!
But at least she’d have the weekend to strategize and figure out how she was going to start making some money, right? She had to. Quitting wasn’t an option. She had to think about all the things that were going good instead of what was going wrong. And the good: she had her own business, she wasn’t out on her tail just yet. Being optimistic, she was certain she’d score that client who would waltz into Rayford Real Estate to buy a million-dollar home where she’d make enough commission to live off of for the next few months. Hey, it could happen, but optimism these days were sounding more and more like wishful thinking.
Sipping on a latte and eating a bagel like it was the first meal she’d had in a few days, that optimism disappeared the moment she stepped into her office for another day of the same ol’, same ol’. She placed the latte and what was left of the bagel on her desk and diverted her attention to the laptop. She checked her email for new listings, printed them out and after retrieving the documents from the printer, she saw an email from Mordecai Champion.
Her eyes instantly rolled. What does this fool want now?
Annoyance wouldn’t fend off her curiosity. She double-clicked to open the message and began reading:
From: Mordecai Champion
To: Rayford Real Estate
Subject: house…
I was looking over the paperwork. I haven’t filled out anything. It looks too time-consuming. I can tell you this – I want a two-story home with at least four bedrooms; maybe even five. I want one of those huge, vintage, century-type homes near the waterfront but not a waterfront property. Meet me for lunch at Rebellion so we can discuss. Call me if you have any questions. 910-555-3566
Thanks.
__________
“Lunch? You want me to meet you for lunch, hunh, buster?” she said aloud, throwing a pen across the office in angst. “Where’s my freakin’ phone?” she asked, steadily talking to herself, searching through her purse like she’d gone mad. When she finally found it, she slung the purse back to the floor and inadvertently knocked over her latte. Her desk was now enjoying her morning treat, all courtesy of Mordecai.
“Ugh,” she grunted, running to the bathroom to grab paper towels. When she returned, she noticed the drink had soaked her desk calendar and her index card of rules.
“No, no, no,” she called out. It was a sign as far as she was concerned. Her rules were now washed up and blurred. She’d have to write them over.
No, she wouldn’t do that. She’d do something more beneficial – more grown-up – like call Mordecai and turn him down. Why did he think he had special privileges? Because he was fin
e as all get-out?
She punched his number into her phone: 910-555-3566.
“Mordecai Champion. How can I help you?” he answered.
“Hi. It’s Jemisha. I—”
“Ah…Jemisha. I take it you got my email.”
“I did, and—”
“Meeting me at noon for lunch won’t be a problem, will it? Isn’t that what you real estate agents do to woo your clients.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know…going above and beyond, doing whatever it takes to close a deal.”
That is what agents do, but not where you’re concerned…
“I do my job and I do it well, and let me just say, if you’re not interested in buying a house, please don’t waste my time.”
“I’m in the market. I thought I made that clear. I can give my business to you, Jemisha, or I can take it elsewhere.”
Ugh. She sighed. Now, he’s trying to get all serious.
“Are you down to meet me or not?”
“I usually don’t meet with a client until the initial paperwork is done. I need to know exactly what it is you’re looking for.”
“I sent that in the email.”
“A home purchase involves more details than the number of bedrooms.”
“What can I say? I’m a simple guy.”
“If that’s the case, stay where you’re at.”
“Nah. It’s time for me to move on up like George so I can find my Weezy. We can discuss the details over lunch. I’ll see you at noon. Do you need directions to Rebellion?”
“No,” she answered stubbornly. “I’ll put it in my GPS.”
“Good. Enjoy the rest of your morning.”
She hung up the phone. How was she going to enjoy the morning after spilling her latte and messing up her rules? And now her stomach was in knots since, in a few hours she’d have to sit across from Mordecai for at least an hour or two, avoiding eye contact with him. She didn’t want him as a client. Not at all.
But a sista was broke, and a check was a check! Surely she could endure her lunch hour with the man.
* * *
When Jemisha arrived at the restaurant, Mordecai was already there, standing in the lobby, waiting for her to arrive. Leave it up to Mordecai to go to a restaurant called Rebellion. Her eyes immediately found his tall, athletic frame standing near the hostess table. He was wearing a black button-up shirt and a pair of jeans, talking it up with the hostess like he’d known her forever. He was probably flirting with the girl.
“I see your GPS didn’t fail you,” he said when Jemisha walked up.
I wish it would have, Jemisha thought. “No, it usually doesn’t. I rely on it a lot, especially when I’m riding around looking for listings.”
When they were seated, Mordecai ordered a Coke. Jemisha went with water. She kept her eyes focused on the menu when she said, “Do you frequent this place?”
“I do. It’s one of my favorite spots.”
“What’s good here?”
“Everything, but if I could make a suggestion, I’d say go with The Rebellion.”
She scanned the menu until she found it. The Rebellion, a specialty burger for this place, was made with bacon and bourbon barbecue sauce. Sensing her appetite would fail her today – especially since she couldn’t remember the last time she had a meal with a man sitting across from her – she went with his suggestion.
Ten minutes later, they were already eating. She took small bites, focusing more on her fries than the burger. Her stomach was still a little off and she could feel Mordecai staring at her every time she dipped a fry into the glob of ketchup on her plate.
“You’re quiet,” Mordecai said. “I thought you were supposed to be asking me questions.”
Right. She was, wasn’t she?
“Um, it’ll be hard to take notes and eat at the same time, but I’ll try.”
“No, let’s eat and get acquainted with each other,” Mordecai suggested. “Afterward, we’ll discuss the house.”
Jemisha wasn’t having any of his smooth talk. She said, “Being that the house is the only reason we’re here, I say we get right down to business.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He drank Coke.
She dabbed her mouth with a napkin and after taking a sip of water, she asked, “Why do you want to buy a house?”
He grinned. “I need a reason?”
“You don’t need a reason, but everyone has one. What’s yours?”
She resumed eating while he thought of a response.
He said, “I’m thinking about settling down—gotta have somewhere for my future wife and kids to live.”
She coughed – coughed so much, she needed some water to help clear her passageways. Did he really say something about a wife and some kids? Really? Mordecai Champion?
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” she said clearing her throat.
“Are you sure? I know the Heimlich maneuver.”
She bet he knew all kinds of maneuvers, but if he thought he was about to stand behind her with his pelvis cradled to her backside, and strong, bionic arms wrapped around her while making a thrusting, upward motion, he was dead wrong. She’d die first. “I’m fine. I’m not choking. I’m fine.” She sipped water.
With a smirk on his face, he asked, “Was it something I said that has you all choked up?”
She looked up at him – one of the few times she’d done so since they’ve been eating together. Why did he have to be looking directly at her with that smirk and cute dimple sunk deep into his jaw? Why did his eyes look like golden honey with green drizzles sprinkled in them? She could see why he was a ladies’ man. He had every physical attribute it took to rock the title, and the charm to go along with it.
Jemisha cleared her throat once more. “I, uh—okay, that caught me off guard.”
“What did?”
“Your comment about a wife and kids. You don’t come across as the settling down type.”
“I don’t?” he asked.
“No.”
“And just how does one come across as the settling down type?”
“Okay—I’m not sure if I want to go down this road.”
“Nah, you opened the door. Walk through it.”
She wiped her mouth then drank more water. “In my opinion, some men are more on the playful, bachelor side of life. The serious man who doesn’t have time for games works hard to be the man a woman needs and desires while some men are busy playing around, settling for being something temporary for whoever comes along because they’re not serious about life. Settling down isn’t something they’re interested in. You come across as that type—the bachelor type.”
He smiled, unfazed by her synopsis. “Why would you think that about me?”
“I’ve seen you operate.”
“Oh, have you really? Enlighten me,” he said sitting up tall, giving her his full attention.
“It’s nothing. We’re off topic.”
“No. I like this topic.”
Jemisha hid a smile and glanced around the busy restaurant. With her attention back to him, she said, “I shouldn’t have to explain to you what you do and who you are. You know what kind of man you are.”
“That’s a given, but I don’t know what kind of man you think I am. That’s what I’m asking.”
“You’re a ladies’ man. A player.”
Mordecai chuckled loudly. “Did Savannah tell you that?”
Distracted by his dimple, her brain had a slight delay in hearing his question. When it caught up to her, she finally answered, “No. I don’t need Savannah to tell me something I can see with my own two eyes.”
“Two pretty eyes, I might add,” he told her, watching her cheeks turn a shade. He could get lost in those dark eyes if she’d look at him long enough, but every time he tried to hold her gaze, she turned away. “So you’ve been watching me from a distance, huh?”
“I don’t watch you. I’ve just seen things. I know stuff.”
“In
teresting.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why’s that interesting?”
“Because women clamor to get my attention. You’re carrying on like I’m ordinary—like ya boy ain’t the shiznit.”
“I don’t know how to respond to that,” she replied truthfully, bursting at the seams trying to withhold laughter. She wasn’t supposed to like this guy but his sense of humor was wearing her down. She pushed her plate aside and said, “Let’s talk about this house you want. Are you one-hundred percent certain you want to settle down in Wilmington?”
“I am. I grew up here. My mother is still here and so is one of my sisters. With my business being rooted here and all, it would be ideal for me to remain in the city. Starting over somewhere else would be a headache.”
“Tell me about it.”
Awareness showed in his eyes. “That’s right. You’ve done that. You moved here from Charleston.”
“I did.” Jemisha took a sip of water.
“Why did you make the move?”
“It was all about economics for me. Granted, I didn’t move a company here. I moved first then started the company. Still, I think it would’ve been more beneficial if I’d started Rayford Real Estate in Charleston. My family’s there. I know plenty of people and it’s where my love of real estate began. Unfortunately, the market is saturated and the people I worked for only wanted certain agents to work with certain clients if you know what I mean.”
“Wow. That’s too bad.”
“It is. But, I dusted off my sandals and set up shop here in Wilmington. I’m hoping I’ll have a different experience here.”
“To new experiences,” Mordecai said holding up his glass of soda – well, more like a glass full of ice – then slurped the remaining soda. Either he had no manners or he was being intentionally silly – probably a combination of both.
The waitress rolled up just in time with another glass of soda for him and a refill of water for Jemisha.
“So, the house…”
“Yes. The house,” he said with a mouthful as he resumed eating. He washed it back with more soda. “All you need to know is, the house has to be more than four bedrooms since I will need to convert one of them into an office.”