Just Say The Word

by Tiffany Patterson

  “Not yet but we’ve still got another day ahead of us.”

  “That you do.”

  “Your case is picking up steam, huh?”

  She sighed. “Thankfully, yes. Two more waitresses have come forward and admitted to being victims of the same type of sexual harassment our first client told us about. But these things take a lot of time and man hours. Luckily, our previous case ended in a settlement so we can dedicate most of our working hours to this one.”

  “There’s no one better for the job,” I stated with total assurance.

  There was a short pause before Sandra spoke again. “I’m not the one trying the case.”

  “You might as well be. I know damn well the lawyers you work for at the firm couldn’t function as well as they do without you.”

  I didn’t hear anything at the other end of the phone but I pictured her dipping her head low and biting her lower lip, the way she did when she was at a loss for words. Or embarrassed. Or both.

  “Don’t say things like that if you don’t really mean them.”

  I sat up in the bed. “What?”

  “Please don’t fill my head with nice compliments if you’re just looking to—”

  “Before you finish that sentence let’s make a few things clear. One, if I say it then I mean it. Two, I don’t know who it was in your past that filled your head with lies and betrayed you but he ain’t me. And third, don’t forget the first two.”

  There was silence on the other end but I knew she was still there. I could hear her breathing.

  “I have to go back to work.”

  “All right, just don’t forget what I said. And say hey to short stuff for me, when you get home.”

  “Bye, Damon.” She hung up.

  I pulled the phone from my ear, staring at it. I wondered what the hell had gotten me so riled up. The notion that she was either subconsciously or consciously comparing me to some dude in her past. Likely, the same one that’d gotten her pregnant and left her to fend for herself. That shit pissed me off, so much so, that I couldn’t get to sleep. And since I wasn’t home and unable to do what I normally did when I couldn’t sleep, which was fight, I chose to workout instead. The hotel we were staying at had a twenty-four hour fitness center.

  I hopped out of bed, threw on a pair of black sweatpants, a T-shirt, and sneakers, and exited my room, taking the stairs to the floor above my suite where the gym was housed. I started with a short warm up before working my way into a grueling ninety minute workout. By the time I was finished with my workout, I was too wired to get back to sleep, and my instincts had me wanting to call Sandra again, which was ridiculous. It was Friday, our date was the following Monday. I could go a few days without talking to the woman … right?

  As I stared at my phone on the bed, I decided against picking it up and calling the woman who was beginning to drive most of my waking thoughts. I opted, instead, to sit my ass down at the desk in the main area of my suite, laptop in hand, and get some work done. I had a ton of emails to send out, notices on some properties that were for sale, including an abandoned building on Lakefront Drive in Williamsport, which I’d been finagling and trying to get ahold of for years. That plus a few documents Charlotte had sent me that needed my signature. Work kept me occupied enough over the next few hours, long enough that I found myself fighting to keep my eyes open. At nearly four in the morning, I made my way to bed to sleep for a few hours before I needed to get up for another long day. But even though I enjoyed my work and various business ventures, as I drifted off to sleep, I remembered thinking that I couldn’t wait to get back home on Monday.

  Chapter Nine

  Sandra

  “Are you sure about this?” I questioned as I cast yet another dubious glance from my phone screen to the full-length mirror in my bedroom. When I looked back to the phone Kayla was frowning at me. Obviously frustrated with my uncertainty.

  “Sandra, look at yourself in that mirror.”

  Sighing, I rolled my eyes, feeling silly as if she was going to have me do one of those daily mirror mantras people seemed to like. I’d tried doing those years ago and just felt like a fool talking to myself in the mirror.

  “Go ahead and look,” Kayla insisted.

  “Fine!” I blurted out but did as I was told and rose my gaze to the mirror in front of me.

  “You cannot tell me you don’t see how gorgeous you look. That burgundy peplum top fits you perfectly, and the black skinny jeans hug your hips nicely, thanks to your own tailoring. You look hot! If I swung that way and if I weren’t already taken, I might try to get a piece of that.”

  “What?” I burst out laughing. Kayla said the craziest things sometimes.

  Kayla giggled. “See, all you need is to hold that smile and Damon will fall all over himself for you … if he hasn’t already. And that’s a big if.”

  I frowned. “I’m sure he hasn’t.” I bit my lower lip.

  “Stop that!” Kayla demanded. I was sure if she were standing in front of me she would’ve pulled my lip from between my teeth herself.

  “I can’t help it. I chew my lip when I’m nervous.” I twisted around again in the mirror, this time admiring the curvature of my lower back and hips as they rounded out to a plump but toned backside. For the second time in as many weeks I started to admit I liked what I saw in the mirror. “You don’t think it’s too much?” I asked Kayla again, just for some reassurance.

  “It’s just enough. Damon will be eating out of the palm of your hand and begging to get between your thighs.”

  I gasped, my eyes shooting back to the phone in my hands. I started to shake a little bit. Just the idea of a man like Damon Richmond and sex was … I don’t know.

  “Sandra, please tell me you’ve thought about you and Damon and sex before?”

  My eyes bulged. Why did I suddenly feel like a teenager whose mother was questioning her about the birds and the bees?

  “I’ve thought about it,” I hesitantly answered.

  “You know it’s a normal activity between two consenting adults, right?”

  I swallowed.

  Consenting.

  There was a loaded word if any.

  “Have you two talked about it?”

  “Talked?” I asked, my voice rising to a near shriek.

  “Yes. Two people who are attracted to one another and dating will often, or at least should talk about their expectations.”

  Running my hand over the high bun I’d decided to wear my hair in, I sighed. I even let a few loose curls fall down to frame my face. A departure from the typical tight, low bun I usually wore.

  “I don’t think that conversation will be happening tonight.” I sure as hell hoped it wouldn’t be. I didn’t know if I was ready to go there.

  “You’ll be having it soon enough. I’d bet my medical license on it.”

  Pushing out a breath, I lifted my gaze to the mirror, staring at myself. I’d actually done a smokey eye rather than the usual plain makeup I wore to the office. A smile blossomed on my lips that were glossed with a nude color. I started to realize the idea of sex with Damon didn’t put the fear of God into me like the idea had in the past. I’d dated a little here and there since Monique was born, but whenever it came time to take that next step I just couldn’t do it. Most men weren’t satisfied with just a few kisses here and there, so they eventually moved on. It was no real loss to me. And a few years earlier I’d decided to even give up dating entirely, or at least until Monique was eighteen.

  And then in walked Damon Richmond.

  The man had me reconsidering things I swore I had nailed down in my mind.

  “That’s him!” I blurted into the phone when a knock at the door sounded. “I gotta go.”

  “Bye. Have fun!” Kayla urged as she blew a kiss into the screen before disconnecting.

  “Coming!” I called up the hallway to let him know I wasn’t ignoring him. I slipped my feet into the burgundy stilettos I’d chosen, which matched my shirt perfectly, and
quickly put the diamond studs into my ears to complete my outfit for the night. Glancing one more time in the mirror, I smiled wide at the woman staring back at me.

  I hurried out of my bedroom, shutting off the light and making my way to the front door. I pulled it open just as Damon’s large hand lifted to knock again.

  “Sorry,” I stated, breathless.

  He didn’t respond at first. Instead, those two different colored brown eyes trailed down my petite body, slowly, taking in every inch. His gaze was almost like a caress against my skin as it scanned the totality of my frame. I watched the Adam’s apple in his neck bob up and down when his eyes reached my face again.

  “Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe how damn good you look.” There was such a guttural tone that emanated from deep in his throat, I had no choice but to believe the words he’d said. And again, I found myself realizing there was no fear on my part.

  “These are for you.”

  My eyelids rose, and for the first time, I saw the beautiful multi-colored roses he held in his hands. How I’d missed the bouquet of a dozen rainbow roses was beyond me. The only explanation I could muster was that Damon himself had me transfixed.

  “Thank you.” I cleared my throat of the hoarseness. “Please, come in while I put these in water.”

  I stood back as he entered and then shut the door behind him. I moved around him, noting again how small my place felt with him standing inside of it. He followed me through the living room and stopped at the kitchen entrance, watching me as I dug under the sink for the glass vase I kept there.

  “I half expected short stuff to come running to the door.”

  I stood up and glanced over my shoulder while filling the vase with water. “You do know she has a name right?” I joked.

  My thighs tightened when a smirk broke through his thick, full lips. “I do but I like the name short stuff. It doesn’t bother her, right?” He suddenly seemed concerned.

  That had my chest tightening.

  I shook my head. “She actually likes that you call her short stuff. She loves it when people give her nicknames. Joshua and Kayla call her Nique-Nique.”

  I had to look away when Damon chuckled. The deep sound caused my insides to quake. I busied myself with cutting parts of the stems of the roses off before placing them in the water. I felt him move in closer.

  “It doesn’t bother you, does it?”

  I shook my head. “Of course not.”

  “Cool. Anyway, where is she?” he asked, reaching over my shoulder and turning the water off.

  Somehow, I’d forgotten to do that. And when the trembling of my fingers, due to his nearness, almost caused me to drop the vase, Damon wrapped his arms around my arm from behind, helping me to steady the vase with his hands covering mine.

  “Th-thank you,” I stated once I placed the vase on the counter and turned to Damon. He was less than a foot away. “She’s out with her sitter and my grandmother.”

  He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Both of them.”

  I nodded. “Monique’s just getting to know my grandmother, and my grandmother wanted to take her out to dinner while you and I went out. I agreed but only if Oralia attended. She’s a former pediatric nurse so I feel comfortable leaving Monique with her, in case something happens, with her diabetes.”

  He nodded and reached up, his hand grasping one of the curls that hung freely. “That makes sense. Your hair has specs of gold in it. Did you dye it.”

  I shook my head. It was a familiar question. It usually wasn’t obvious because of my always keeping my hair tied up in a tight bun, but if I wore it down, the naturally gold or blonde streaks throughout my medium brown mane were more apparent.

  “So if I kissed you no one’s going to walk in on us?”

  I shook my head. “Not a soul.” Even if they did, I wouldn’t give an iota of a damn, either.

  When Damon dropped his head, I instinctively lifted my chin to meet his incoming lips. A moan broke free from my mouth as soon as our lips met. I sighed into his mouth, feeling an ease in tension release from my body that I hadn’t even realized was there. The hairs of his beard tickled my chin but that only served to increase the sensational feelings that began coursing through me.

  Damon’s hands were at my hips, pulling me into him. I reached up to clutch his shoulders, clinging him to me like a thirsty cat clinging to her milk. My hands moved to the back of his head, and I reached up, fully pressing my body against his, seeking the safety of his kiss. I moved from his head to his beard, feeling its softness.

  Just when I thought I would burst into flames he pulled back.

  “We need to go.” His voice was eerily calm, although I noticed he was breathing heavily as well.

  I nodded. “Let’s.”

  And a minute later, we were exiting my apartment for our date.

  ****

  Damon

  Damn, she smelled good. Yeah, most women smelled good when going out on a date, but Sandra smelled like cotton candy and innocence. I don’t know how to describe it. All I knew was that every time she got in my car, or she brushed past me, or we fucking kissed that particular smell lingered, reminding me of her presence even after she was gone.

  “The African-American Museum?” she questioned as we pulled up to the parking lot.

  I nodded. “I thought it’d be something you’d like to see. You said you wanted to study sociology in college. What better location to learn about groups of people than a museum?”

  The fucking smile that spread over those damn lips was enough to have me gripping my chest with my hand. She made me ache in ways no one ever had.

  “I haven’t been here in years. Thank you.” She squeezed my right wrist as she glanced out the window.

  We’d just come from having dinner at a little Italian spot I loved, and thankfully, she had enjoyed it, too. Once I parked, I got out of the car, and circled the front to hold the door open for her, taking her right hand in my left to help her up.

  She batted her lashes coyly, but I could tell the move came naturally. It wasn’t an act.

  “When was the last time you were here?” I inquired as I wrapped my arm around the small of her back. It was an instinctive move, one that she melted into.

  “Uh, I think Monique was about four or five. I tried to take her on trips to museums when she was younger but I often worked so much or would pick up extra shifts as a waitress just to be able to afford what we needed, those trips became less and less frequent. And then when she got sick, we were in and out of the hospital and doctors’ offices a lot. I became scared, too often opting to keep us home instead of going out on weekends, as a means to keep her safe, or so I thought.”

  I looked down at her as I held the door open. My eyes dropped to the sway of her hips while she walked over the threshold. My hand tightened into a fist.

  “I bet that was tough. Seeing your daughter so sick,” I responded, getting back to the conversation at hand and off my musings of all of the ways I wanted to feel those hips.

  She nodded. “It was. It still is. I had to be told I don’t know how many times by the doctors that her diabetes wasn’t my fault or due to anything I did or didn’t do. As parents we often blame ourselves for anything that goes wrong with our kids.”

  I nodded. “The good ones do, at least.”

  She gave me a look.

  I jutted my head to the directory at the center of the main lobby. “Third floor has the information on pre-colonial Africa and Transatlantic Slave Trade, second floor goes into the abolition movement here in Williamsport up to the Civil Rights Movement—”

  “And the first floor features artwork from the Civil Rights Movement until present,” Sandra finished.

  “Want to start on the third floor?”

  She nodded.

  Again, I placed my hand at the small of her back as we made our way up the stairs to the third floor.

  “Monique’s out with your grandmother? You didn’t want to go?”

  S
andra glanced up at me as we came to a stop in front of the first exhibit. It was a relic from pre-colonial West Africa.

  “Well, she invited Monique and I out to dinner, and when I told her I was going out, she asked if Monique could still go. I agreed. I’m where I want to be.” Her lips curled into a small smile.

  Dammit. I both loved and wanted to strip her of all that damn shyness. Didn’t she know that was the exact type of shit that called to a man like me?

  “But you didn’t feel comfortable leaving Monique alone with her?” That was odd and something I probably should’ve minded my business about but I was starting to conclude that anything concerning Sandra was my business. Weird.

  “Not yet. Monique just met her a week ago. Plus—”

  “The diabetes.”

  She nodded. “I felt better having Oralia there just in case Monique’s blood sugar dropped or something else happened.” She shrugged.

  “And how come she’s just meeting your grandmother?”

  Sandra looked up at me, her feet stopped. We had been moving toward another exhibit on the third floor.

  “I told you it was a long story …” She paused.

  “I’ve got nothing but time.”

  I watched as her chest rose in her intake of air. Slowly she let it out. She glanced around before her eyes returned to me and she began talking. “My grandmother raised me. My mother was sixteen when she had me but wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. She handed me to my grandmother, and once she was discharged from the hospital, she left. I’ve met her twice since then and those encounters were brief. I don’t even know who my biological father is. My grandfather died well before I was born. So my grandmother was all of the family I had. When I, uh, got pregnant …” She cleared her throat and averted her gaze.

  There was something strange about the expression that covered her face. Was it shame?

  “My grandmother wasn’t too happy about it, as you could imagine.”

  I nodded. “History repeating itself.”

  “Or so she thought. I decided to keep my child and she became angrier than I’d ever seen her. She kicked me out and that was the last time I saw her until a few weeks ago when Monique was in the emergency department.”