by Shelly Ellis
“Don’t call it nonsense! You did exactly what I asked you to do. If you have any concerns about the kids, I’d want to know. That’s what I’m here for.”
“I know and thanks, Derrick,” she said with a nod.
He watched as she rose to her feet and walked toward his door. She paused in the doorway and turned back to look at him. “Hey, I’ve got some extra tickets to a Wizards game tomorrow. A couple of my friends had to back out. You think you might wanna go?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“I mean . . . you can invite your girl, too!” she rushed out. “I wasn’t asking that you . . . well, I wasn’t asking you go with me. I . . . I know you’re engaged and everything.”
“I’d love to, but Melissa and I have plans for tomorrow night,” he lied. “And to be honest, basketball isn’t really her thing. Never has been.”
“Oh, well . . . I figured I should ask. Maybe I’ll find someone else who can use them.”
“Maybe.”
Though part of him did want to tell her yes. He resented having to reject Morgan’s invitation out of respect for a fiancée with whom he couldn’t even carry on a phone conversation without arguing. But Derrick had to say no. It was the only responsible thing to do.
Morgan waved. “Well, let me know if you guys change your mind. See you later, Derrick.”
“Bye, Morgan,” he said.
Chapter 18
Jamal
Jamal could barely sit still in his bistro chair as he peered out the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking for one woman in particular among the many faces of people who walked by. He reached absently for his latte and nearly knocked over the cup, sending it flying across the table’s metal surface and spilling onto his pant leg. He shouted in surprise and grabbed it before any real catastrophe could happen. Only a dime-sized spot landed on his knee.
A white-haired old woman in a thick, cable-knit sweater sitting at one of the tables next to him gave him an indulgent smile. “Good save,” she said with a smoker’s laugh, folding over the newspaper she had been reading.
He nodded and glanced down at the paper coffee cup he now held. “I’m all thumbs today.”
“Anxious about something?” she asked, raising her gray brows.
He nodded. “I’m . . . umm . . . I’m meeting someone special today, and I’m kind of nervous. I don’t want to screw this up.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be fine, honey,” she said, waving off his fears. She then returned her attention to her broadsheet.
He nodded again and glanced at his wristwatch. Melissa should be arriving any minute now. He had come early to grab a perfect table toward the back where they’d have a relative amount of privacy for their coffee date.
It’s not a date, he silently corrected himself, though it certainly felt like one. His palms were sweating. His heart was racing. The collar of his dress shirt felt too tight so he kept reaching up to undo a button or two and then redoing it when he worried that he had undone too many.
It felt like he was about to go on his first date with Melissa after all these years.
Of course, he reminded himself that Melissa was still engaged to Derrick and he was living with Bridget so anything romantic happening between them was almost impossible, but it couldn’t keep a man from dreaming or hoping. And it was nice to finally be looking forward to something for once. At that moment, Mayor Johnson and all the drama that surrounded the shady politician was pushed to the back of his mind. For now, his sole focus was Melissa.
Finally, Jamal spotted her walking through the opened glass door. She made a quick glance around the shop before her eyes landed on him. When they did, her face brightened.
This time, he didn’t just feel like he had been nudged in the stomach. He also felt a sharp tug in his groin like a compass needle being magnetically pulled due north.
He watched as she removed her peacoat and walked toward him, excusing her way past a woman pushing a stroller. She was wearing skinny jeans, a red V-neck sweater, and high-heeled boots.
Melissa wasn’t slim like Bridget. She certainly wasn’t petite either. Bridget barely reached his height, even wearing four-inch heels, whereas Melissa was probably taller than him today thanks to her boots. But Jamal didn’t mind. Just watching that tall, curvy body sway and bounce as she sauntered toward him like some sexy Amazon was a reward in itself. He wondered what she looked like with all her clothes off. What would it be like to have that curvy body pressed naked against his?‘
“Hey, Jay!” she said, holding her arms out wide for a hug. “What’s up?”
He shot to his feet and embraced her. He couldn’t feel her naked body against him, so he’d have to settle for a clothed one instead.
She stepped out of his hug and glanced down at his coffee cup. “Aww! You started without me?” she asked, poking out her bottom lip playfully. “I told you I would treat you!”
“I got here early and needed some caffeine. Don’t worry. Go ahead and make your order. I won’t have another sip until you get back.”
She laughed. “I’ll hold you to that,” she said before walking to the coffee counter.
“Is that the special someone you were waiting for?” the old woman beside him asked in a stage whisper, lowering her newspaper and leaning across the aisle toward him.
He whipped his head around to face her. He had forgotten she was still sitting there. He nodded. “Yeah,” he answered quietly.
“She’s a cutie,” the old woman said and gave him a wink. “Good luck!”
* * *
A half hour later, he and Melissa sat facing each other, laughing and talking. The old woman had left, granting the coffee shop corner entirely to the couple.
“So he squirted poop all over me—my T-shirt, my jeans! It even got on my shoes!” she exclaimed, throwing her head back as she laughed. She was telling him the story of the first time she’d changed her infant godson’s diaper. “It had to have shot out about a good three feet!”
“That sounds disgusting,” he muttered, slowly shaking his head and laughing too.
“It was! I asked my girl Bina why she didn’t warn me that her son had projectile poops. She told me it even catches her off guard some days too. Oh, well.” Melissa shrugged and drank from her venti cup. “I just know I’ll never wear that outfit again.”
Their laughter tapered off and Melissa inclined her head.
“I feel like I’ve been doing most of the talking, Jay. Talk to me! Tell me what’s going on with you. How’s work, Mr. Deputy Mayor?”
His smile faded. He pursed his lips. “Work is . . . uh . . . good. I’m busy.”
“I would imagine! Handling economic development for a big city like D.C. can’t be easy! It’s gotta be pretty complicated.”
It’s more complicated than you think, he reflected, remembering again the dirty deals he had discovered Mayor Johnson had been engaging in for the past decade. The envelope he had planned to mail the day Melissa had shown up at the Wilson Building still sat in the locked bottom drawer of his desk.
“And how are you and Bridget? You guys planning to do anything exciting for the holidays? Are you eating Thanksgiving with her family or with yours?” she asked before taking another sip from her cup.
And here was another topic he’d rather avoid entirely. He was enjoying his time with Melissa; he really didn’t want to talk about his girlfriend right now, or be reminded that he was avoiding thinking about Bridget.
“We’ll probably eat with her family,” he said with a shrug. “My mom usually heads to North Carolina to have Thanksgiving, and Bridget’s family is really serious about spending the holidays together. It’s a big thing for them.”
“You don’t sound excited at the idea though.” She eyed him. “What? You don’t like her family?”
He rolled his eyes. “They’re fine. They just take . . . effort, you know? Being the one black dude in the house and probably one of five black dudes in whole town of Avon for three straight days can
get a little tiring.”
“Let me guess,” she said, peering up at the ceiling, “you get asked lots of questions about ‘that hip hop music’ and whether you prefer to be called African American or black.”
He chuckled. “Last Christmas, Bridge’s mom asked me to explain Kaepernick’s NFL protests. ‘What’s with all the kneeling, Jamal? Can’t he find another way to do it?’ It dragged on for a good hour.”
“Oh, man!” Melissa giggled. “I can only imagine. I’ve never had to deal with that when Derrick and I eat with the fam during the holidays, but we have our own brand of awkwardness now.” She went somber. “My dad was much more into celebrating Thanksgiving and Christmas than Mama. And now that I don’t talk to him anymore . . . well, the holidays aren’t what they used to be. I can’t get excited like I used to.”
Jamal lowered his coffee cup. “I’m sorry, Lissa.”
“Don’t be sorry!” She shrugged again. “What’s done is done. Dad chose to trade his old life with us for a new one. Now if Derrick could just accept that fact, I’d be a lot better off.”
Their coffee date ended soon after. Jamal walked her to the coffee shop door and onto the sidewalk. By now she was wearing her coat again and had draped a scarf around her neck. Jamal exhaled, seeing mist sprout in the air. It had been almost seventy degrees outside a week ago. Now the fall weather was officially announcing itself, bringing a heavy chill with it.
“That was nice,” Melissa said, turning to him and smiling. “We should do it more often.”
“Whenever you want. I’m here,” he replied—and he meant it.
“You know, every time we talk, I realize just how much I don’t know about you,” she began. “I mean . . . I know surface details. I know your mom and your girlfriend’s name. I know where you grew up and what school you went to. But I never realized how much I don’t know you, Jay, and you and I have chilled together so many times it’s not even funny. Does that sound crazy?”
He slowly shook his head, gazing into her eyes. “No, it doesn’t,” he answered softly.
“It’s so messed up!” She tossed her braids over her shoulder. “I’m glad I’m finally getting to know you though. It took too damn long!”
They stared at one another for another few seconds. His eyes involuntarily dropped to her full lips. He wanted to kiss her goodbye. He wanted to kiss her so bad he could almost taste it.
The whole time they’d sat in the coffee shop, Jamal could feel a chemistry erupting between them, an almost magnetic pull that surely she could feel, too. But he reminded himself once again that they were both in relationships. Just because he felt an attraction didn’t mean he could or should act on it. So instead of kissing her, he leaned forward, and wrapped a brotherly arm around her in a half hug.
“I should get back to the office. It was good seeing you, Lissa.”
“It was good seeing you too, Jay!”
And he wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn he felt her lips brush his cheek, making the skin tingle there. He leaned back and stared at her.
“Talk to you soon,” she said, before turning and walking back to her car.
Meanwhile, Jamal stood mutely on the sidewalk, feeling like his twelve-year-old self would at that moment.
Melissa Stone just kissed me goodbye.
He wiped his cheek and gazed down at his fingertips to prove it to himself, amazed to find red lipstick there.
Chapter 19
Derrick
“Drinkin’ the usual tonight, fellas, or are y’all switchin’ it up?” Ray asked as he walked up to the table where Derrick and Ricky sat.
He had to shout to be heard over the music and the couples on the dance floor.
“Imma switch it up. A glass of Hennessey White sounds good,” Ricky said, slumping back against the booth’s leather padding.
“Give me a shot of Tennessee Honey, Ray,” Derrick mumbled.
This was one of the few nights that more than a dozen people were at Ray’s Bar and Lounge. It looked like someone had decided to throw a birthday party there, filling the space with balloons and forty- and fifty-somethings who danced to eighties and nineties hits.
Ricky was currently staring wide eyed at a man in a red pleather suit doing the cabbage patch to Bobby Brown’s “Prerogative.”
Though the partygoers seemed to be having a good time, Derrick was starting to feel claustrophobic. He wasn’t sure if it was all the people, or the anxiety that seemed to plague him today—hell, that seemed to plague him for the past few days—but he felt the overwhelming urge to escape. He just wanted to get out of here, to be any place but this smoke-filled lounge.
But I damn sure don’t wanna go home, he thought.
Melissa was at their apartment at that very moment grading papers with Brownie nestled in her lap. But he didn’t feel at peace when he was with her anymore. Their apartment was a place of tension, filled with unspoken words and barely repressed anger. Hell, according to the vet, even Brownie felt it. He was probably grooming himself like crazy at that very moment.
Derrick wondered what Morgan was doing right now. She had mentioned she had tickets to the Wizards game for tonight. Though he had turned her down, he now wished he hadn’t. It certainly would have made for a more enjoyable evening than this.
“So you gonna talk, or just keep staring into your drink?” Ricky asked after they had been sitting silently at their table for almost ten minutes. “You’re the one who told me you wanted to meet up.”
“Sorry,” Derrick said. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
“When do you not?” Ricky asked with a chuckle before raising his glass to his lips and taking a sip. “You and Lissa still arguing?”
“That shit is like . . . constant. I can’t even ask her a simple question anymore. Yesterday, I just asked her who she was meeting with for coffee and she got all defensive. Turned it around on me and it turned into another damn argument! And when we aren’t arguing, it’s these strained silences. I hate it!”
“But y’all have been through this before, Dee. It’ll level out. It always does.”
Derrick slowly shook his head. “Nah, this feels different. I don’t know what it is about this time around, but it feels like we keep hitting a wall with each other.”
“Again, I’ve heard this shit from you before. But every time you—”
“I know what I’m talking about, Ricky. Lissa and I have known each other for damn near forever, but it’s like . . . like we can’t communicate anymore. People grow up, and sometimes . . . sometimes they grow apart. Maybe that’s what we’ve been doing all along. It’s hard to accept it, but that shit is the truth.”
“What are you trying to say? You ready to call it quits with Melissa?”
Derrick rested his elbows on the tabletop. “Shit, I don’t know! I don’t know if I’m ready to call it quits, but sometimes I wonder if this whole thing could be easier.”
“Easier than what, nigga?”
“I wonder whether it would be . . . you know . . . easier with someone else, with a woman who gets the man I am today, and doesn’t keep reminding me of the man I used to be.”
“And you know for sure that this woman exists . . . that some mess wouldn’t come up with her too?”
“No, I don’t know that for sure, but I’m starting to wonder if it would at least be worth a try to look . . . to see what else is out there.”
He wondered what type of girlfriend Morgan would be. He doubted she would see him working at the Institute as a burden or a pointless waste of time. And she didn’t carry the same baggage about his work that Melissa did because of her father. He wouldn’t have to explain to Morgan on a daily basis why he’d chosen his career path and why he could never walk away from the Institute. And he liked how laidback Morgan was.
Like how Lissa used to be, he thought forlornly.
Morgan was a chill, funny chick he could easily see snuggling with on the couch on the weekends. But she had the beauty and the body that m
ade a guy want to take it from a couch to the bedroom to do a lot more than snuggle.
Oh, man. This was the second time he had thought about Morgan tonight. This was starting to become a habit.
Ricky squinted at him and lowered the glass from his mouth. “You’re not . . . you’re not thinking about stepping out on Lissa, are you?” Ricky asked, like he was reading Derrick’s mind.
“No! Hell, no!” Derrick shouted over the Boyz II Men ballad that now had the couples slow dancing on Ray’s parquet dance floor. “I would never cheat on my girl, man. You know that’s not in me!”
“People say that all the time, Dee. There’s a lot of things they claim they would never do until they’re faced with a hard decision—and then they do it.” He took another drink from his glass. “Believe me. I know that shit.”
Derrick inclined his head. “And just what have you done lately that you thought you would never do?”
“It ain’t just one thing. That’s the problem. It’s a lot of stuff that has me thinking, ‘Ricky, what the hell are you doing, man? Have you lost your damn mind?’”
“So don’t be all cryptic. Tell me what it is.”
Ricky sucked his teeth. “It’s stupid. I feel dumb even saying the shit out loud.”
“Come on! If you can’t tell me then who the hell else can you tell? It’s me—Dee. I’m not gonna judge you.”
“Well,” Ricky began tentatively, rubbing his thumb over the lip of his glass, “I’ve been . . . I’ve been helping out a cop.”
Derrick’s eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline. “You’ve been helping out a cop? Like . . . a police officer?”
“What other cops do you know who aren’t police officers, Dee?” he asked sarcastically.
“But you hate cops!”
“I know. I know! But her sister went missing and she needed help finding her—”
“She?” Derrick grinned slyly at his friend. “Okay, now it’s starting to make sense. I guess this cop is fine too, right?”