by Donna Hill
Traci pursed her polished lips to the side. “You twisted my arm.”
* * *
They walked over to the CoffeeMate just as it began to sprinkle. When they stepped inside, they were immediately welcomed with warmth and the delicious aromas.
“Is he here?” Cara asked without moving her lips.
Traci nudged her in the rib. “Can we at least get inside first?” She casually took a quick look around and her stomach did that dance thing when she spotted Noah emerging from the back.
Noah seemed to sense her presence and his gaze landed right on her. His smile lit his eyes.
“You don’t even have to tell me. That’s him.” Cara hummed in appreciation.
“Yeah,” Traci said under her breath. “You want something?” she asked, heading toward the line of customers.
“I’ll have what you’re having,” she teased.
Traci snickered. “Cara, you’re a married woman.”
“But I ain’t blind.” She chuckled and gave Traci a light shove in the back to move her along the line.
Traci was finally in front of Noah and she felt like a giddy teenager.
“Hey,” she said softly.
“Hey, yourself. The usual?”
Traci nodded. “And the same for my friend Cara.”
Noah’s gaze shifted to the woman standing next to Traci. “Hello, welcome to CoffeeMate. Nice to meet you.”
“Thanks, and you as well. Oh, and I’ll take a blueberry muffin to go along with whatever she’s having.” Cara grinned.
“You can pick your purchases up at the end of the line.” When no one was looking, he gave Traci a wink. Her insides curled in response.
“I usually sit at that table in the back,” Traci said once they had gotten what they’d paid for. She led the way.
“Girrrrl,” Cara said under her breath the instant they sat down. “That is one fine brother—that skin and those eyes and those locs. Humph.” She peeked around a few tables to scope Noah out again. “Not to mention that he’s got your back. You hit the jackpot, my sister.”
Traci knew she’d had a thing for Noah months ago when she’d come in and watch him and long for their brief moments of banal conversation. She’d imagined them being together, but the reality was better than anything she could think up on her own. But every time she felt herself getting close, lowering the walls of fear and doubt, she found herself backing off. If where they were now was any indication of where their relationship could go, she should be ready to jump on for the ride. She wasn’t.
“What’s wrong?”
Traci blinked Cara into focus. She shifted a bit, reached for a napkin, and shrugged off the question. “Nothing. Why?”
“Because I’ve known you for a zillion years and I know when something is bothering you, and worse when you’re lying to me.”
Traci wrapped her fingers around her cup of mocha latte.
Cara tipped her head to the side. “Well, talk to me. What is it?”
“Noah is a great guy. He’s smart, and funny, and well traveled, and sexy. He’s easy to be with.”
“But . . .”
“So was Jason in the beginning.”
Cara’s expression softened. “T, I know Jason did a number on you, but every man is not like Jason.”
“My rational self knows that, but my spirit says something else.”
“This guy, Noah, is the first man that you’ve dealt with in the past two years that actually makes you smile, makes you feel good. I hear it in your voice and see it in the light in your eyes. Since Jason you haven’t had any significant relationship with a man.”
Traci lowered her head, then shook it slowly. “I’ve tried,” she said softly. She looked up into Cara’s understanding eyes. “I’m scared.”
Cara reached across the table and covered Traci’s hand with her own. “Say it. Say it to me. What are you scared of, sweetie?”
“That he’ll hurt me. That he will be this wonderful man that I can trust and believe in and then he will hurt me, mentally and physically.” She pushed out a breath, and flashes of her nightmare marriage played in her mind. “There, I’ve said it. I’m afraid. Nothing is as it appears. Nothing and no one.”
“You really believe that, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. I’m a product of it.” She shook her head. “If I give in, I mean really give in and let Noah into my heart and he hurts me . . . I don’t think I could recover from that, not again.”
“So what are you going to do for the rest of your life? Live in fear and doubt and . . . alone?”
“I have my work, my students.” She offered up a feeble smile. “My best friend.”
“You deserve that and more, but it will never happen if you don’t give yourself a chance to experience it. Just because you’ve been knocked down doesn’t mean that you don’t get back up, T. You’re a survivor. You’ve proven that.”
Traci sighed heavily, then took a long swallow of her latte. “I don’t know.”
“And you never will if you don’t give it a shot.”
Chapter Seven
By the time Traci and Cara left CoffeeMate, and returned to their apartments, the rain was coming down hard and fast.
Traci peered out the window and wondered if she and Noah were still on for the art show opening. When she was with Jason, the slightest change in the weather, the people, or the time, which might shift their plans, would set him off, and somehow, no matter what the external cause, it became her fault. She shuddered and turned away from the window, but she didn’t have much time to dwell on it because her cell phone rang.
She picked the phone up from the table and her heart banged when she saw Noah’s name on the screen. She pressed the TALK icon and held her breath, waiting for the inevitable.
“Hey,” she greeted.
“Hey, yourself. It’s a mess out there.”
She swallowed. “I know.”
“So I’ll be there to pick you up at seven. Dress comfortable. It’s a real casual event. Then I figured, once we left the City, we could drive back to Brooklyn to Open End afterward for a late dinner and some music.”
She was so relieved that she almost cried. “Okay,” she squeaked. “I’ll be ready.”
His voice lowered. “I’m looking forward to seeing you, Traci.”
“Me too,” she murmured.
“Cool. See you soon, babe.”
Traci held the phone to her chest long after the call disconnected. Give him a chance, she repeated over and over as she prepared for her evening.
She painstakingly chose her simple but classy outfit: a starched white shirt, her fitted black jeans with short ankle boots, a simple silver cuff bracelet, small silver hoop earrings, and dabs of her favorite scent behind her ears and on the insides of her wrists. She twisted and pinned her spiral curls up into a loose topknot, which gave it the look of slightly unkempt on purpose.
Traci faced the full-length mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door, appraised herself from every angle, and had to admit that she was satisfied with what she saw. She added several coats of mascara to her lashes and swipes of tinted lip gloss to her lips and she was ready just as her doorbell rang.
Suddenly the confidence that she’d just had began to crumble. When was the last time she was out on a date? She couldn’t remember. Did she even know how to act? Don’t be silly, her inner voice warned. It’s no different than the other times that you’ve spent with him. But it was. This was an official date.
The bell rang again and she flinched. She drew in a breath, took a last look at herself, grabbed her coat and purse, and trotted downstairs.
She pulled the front door open and there he was, just like the knight in shining armor, equipped with not a lance and a horse but holding a huge umbrella. And the delighted smile on his lips upon seeing her said more than words ever could.
Traci shut the door behind her and Noah wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her close and kissed her under the dome of t
he umbrella. For several moments, as his tongue gently explored her mouth, they were the only people in the world.
“Hey,” he whispered against her mouth as he broke the kiss.
“Hey, yourself,” she managed.
“Ready?”
She nodded.
He held her hand and shielded her from the cold, whipping rain. When they got to the bottom of the stairs, he pointed out his Navigator and they made a dash for it.
“You okay?” Noah asked while he shook out the umbrella before tossing it into the backseat. He slammed the door shut.
“Yeah,” she said with laughter in her voice. “Didn’t expect all that.”
“Chance of showers,” he quipped.
Traci fastened her seat belt and settled back. His car smelled like him, deep and sexy. It was nothing overpowering, just present. Inwardly she smiled.
Noah put on his signals and pulled out. “I heard a lot of good things about this exhibit. Hope it lives up to the hype.”
“Do you go to exhibits often?”
“Hmmm, when something strikes me. I’m not into ‘the greats,’ as they say, more of the locals and up-and-comings artists. They take chances. Make you think.” He snatched a look at her. “What about you?”
“I haven’t been to an exhibit in ages. But I do agree, I am not all that moved by ‘the greats,’ either. Don’t get me wrong. I think Rembrandt, Van Gogh, Da Vinci, are great and set the stage for all those that followed, but the new artists have taken the foundation and built it to another level with the incorporation of a variety of media.”
“Exactly! That’s the thing about art. It’s not monolithic but a reflection, a disturbance in the everydayness.”
Traci looked at him in admiration. “I feel the same way. Whether the art is literature or music or drama or visual arts, it should stir something, upset the status quo in a way that makes the viewer take a step back and say ‘wow.’”
“Couldn’t have said it better.” He turned to her and smiled as they pulled up to a red light.
“Hey, see that building over there. The Chadwick?”
“Yeah, been closed for a few years.”
“I saw a couple of local plays there before it closed. Fell in love with it. That’s where I’ve been envisioning staging my play. Right there.” She pushed out a sigh. “Can’t get around the reality of the cost of getting it opened and refurbished, but . . . a girl can dream.”
Noah started to say something, but held his tongue. Nothing was set in stone yet and he wasn’t about to rock the boat. Instead he said, “No bright lights of Broadway?”
Traci laughed. “No. I want to bring it to the community, have it accessible. I remember years ago, seeing For Colored Girls . . . right at the Billie Holiday Theatre in Restoration Plaza on Fulton Street. I thought that was the greatest thing. I want to do the same.”
“I remember that. I went to one of the last showings.”
“How crazy is that? Two ships passing in the night.”
Noah glanced at her just before pulling off. “That finally came ashore . . . together.”
Traci’s heart raced. She fiddled with her purse. Careful, Traci, Noah is too easy to fall really hard for.
* * *
The art exhibit called “Blurred: A Search for Humanity” was an eclectic blend of black-and-white photos, mixed media, and live art—people who were part of the exhibit that spoke to the audience—all of which addressed the idea of identity and the notion that with the blurring of lines, humanity would soon be one universal color and their sex interchangeable.
The gallery was packed with the curious and the art enthusiast, along with the media who all wanted a piece of this avant-garde new artist, Dweli.
When Traci and Noah emerged from the showing, they both looked at each other and simultaneously uttered “wow,” in utter awe of what they’d seen.
“That’s some powerful stuff,” Noah said as he got behind the wheel of the car.
“I’m at a loss for words, to be truthful. I mean the entire exhibit speaks to the changing times and the impact of the decisions we make regarding us as humans and individuals.”
“A lot to think about.”
“If the world actually became the homogenous utopia that Dweli envisions, it would certainly relieve us of a lot of problems as a society.”
“Hmm, true, but I think what was the most telling were the few holdouts, the ones who maintained their identities and struggled to reclaim the old order.”
“Modern version of a brave new world.”
Traci nodded in agreement. “A lot to think about.”
“Yep. I hope you’re hungry. I’m starved and I know the music tonight will be on point. The band is crazy phenomenal.”
Traci grinned. “I’m with the driver.”
* * *
When they returned to Brooklyn from SoHo and arrived at Open End, the classy bar was jumping. The large entry had a line of people waiting to check their damp coats. Beyond the check-in, to the left, the long bar began and was lined from end to end with customers. Opposite the bar was the wide-open space filled with rectangular and round tables and several banquettes. There was a midsized raised stage that faced the bar and seating area. The band and a well-known local singer named Dawne were at the end of a set. When she ended her signature song “Love,” the crowd went crazy.
“I’ve heard about her,” Traci said, pleasantly surprised that she was the featured artist. “Cara is always talking about this indie artist named Dawne. Loves her music. I think I’m a fan.”
“I’ll introduce you a little later.”
“Say what?”
He grinned. “I know people who know people,” he teased.
They finished checking their coats and were greeted by one of the hostesses.
“Good evening, Mr. Jefferson. Your table is ready.”
Traci gave him an “excuse me” look of amusement.
He held her hand as they walked behind the hostess, who led them around the maze of tables and people, until they reached the reserved table in the center of the seating area. The hostess plucked the reserve card from the table.
“I’ll send your waiter right over.”
“Thanks,” Noah said.
Did he always get treated this way, or was he trying to impress her? Her guard went up. When she and Jason first got together and he was courting her hard, he always did things like this to impress her, try to make her feel special. It was all part of his sick game plan.
Noah placed his hand on hers and she jumped. “You okay?”
She blinked rapidly and forced a smile. “Yes, fine. Sorry. My mind was wandering for a minute.” She turned her full attention on him.
His eyes squinted. “Sure?”
“Positive.”
“All right.” He picked up his menu and leaned back in his seat. “You want a drink?”
“Since I’m not driving,” she teased, “I’d like an apple martini.”
“Not a problem.”
Before he could look around, the harried waiter stopped at their table and quickly took their orders for drinks and crab cakes for appetizers.
“This is a really nice spot,” Traci said, looking around. “I can’t believe I haven’t been here before.”
“I’ll let you in on a secret.”
“What?” she said, lowering her voice.
“My best friend owns it.” He winked.
Traci twisted her lips. “That’s what’s up with all the fancy treatment.”
“Kinda. He wants to meet you.”
“You told him about me?”
“Of course.”
Her heart began to skip, then run. “Oh.” She lowered her gaze.
“Should you be a secret?”
“No . . . I mean . . .” She shrugged. She never met any of Jason’s friends and over time he’d weaned her away from her friends until she was isolated and alone. He always used the excuse that they were busy or that she didn’t have the right out
fit—or whatever justification he could concoct.
Noah took his index finger, placed it under her chin, and lifted it to compel her to look at him. “I want everyone to know about you and me—about us. I want them to see that I’m crazy about you and getting crazier by the day.”
Traci could hardly breathe.
Noah smiled at her, then leaned over and lightly kissed her lips. “Us,” he whispered, “for as long as you’ll have us.”
The waiter returned with their drinks and appetizer, saving Traci from having to respond.
“To a great evening, with many more to come,” Noah said, raising his glass of scotch.
Traci tapped her glass to his and took a tiny sip. Her eyes closed in delight. “Delish,” she murmured.
Noah winked.
The waiter returned to take their order just before Anthony wound his way around the tables and stopped at theirs. He clapped Noah on the back.
“Hey, man, glad you could make it.”
Noah stood and they exchanged the black handshake of the day. “Have a seat for a minute.”
Anthony pulled up a chair.
“Anthony Fields, this is Traci Long. T, this here is my main man from back in my college days. Frat brothers. And he’s the owner of this wonderful establishment,” he added in admiration.
“I pay him to say all that good stuff,” Anthony teased as he turned all of his attention onto Traci. He extended his hand. “Good to finally meet you. Noah bends my ear about you all the time,” he half-joked.
Traci felt her face flush with embarrassment. She swallowed and then her smile bloomed. “Nice to meet you, too. Your spot is incredible. Congrats.”
“Thanks. Looking to expand. Soon, hopefully. But I won’t bore you with all that. Enjoy your evening and whatever you want is on the house.” He pushed up out of his chair and turned to Noah. “You sitting in tonight?”
“Naw. Think I’m going to stay in customer mode tonight.”
“Cool. If you change your mind, let me know.”
Noah nodded and Anthony walked off.
“So this is where you come to play?”
“Mostly. Every now and then I hook up with a small band in Harlem and play up there.”