“That’s great, Kareem. I wish you luck.”
The smile on Sandra’s face gave him hope. “I appreciate that. Not many people understand what I’m trying to do.”
“Maybe you should tell the rest of your family.” Sandra used her chin to motion toward David. “I know David is eager to find out more.”
Not going to happen. If he failed, he didn’t need his family to know about another of his fuck ups. “I’ll think about it.”
She smiled and nodded as if she understood he wasn’t going to say anything to David. If his family knew about the deal Neecie had offered they’d be disappointed. Keeping her brother at bay by pretending to be her man for a weekend was one thing. Going home with her was another. Gaining support for his idea would take weeks—weeks trying and ultimately failing to suppress the urge to completely debauch Neecie. Kareem grabbed the flute and sipped the champagne. What kind of screwed up was he?
Guys with blood on their hands tend to be fucked up.
Kareem’s throat tightened. The sights and sounds of the banquet all slowly faded, and the dank smell of a jail cell filled his nostrils. He ran a sweaty palm over the white tablecloth.
“Hey!” Sandra said.
Kareem flinched and glanced her way. His heart drummed. She smiled and waved at someone across the room. Kareem’s shoulders relaxed. His screwed up response to a bad memory passed without being noticed.
“You and David set a date yet?” he asked. The music and conversation in the room masked the slight tremor in his voice.
“Soon, I think.” A small grin graced her lips, and she swept the bangs out of her face before looking at David on the dance floor. “Sooner than we thought.”
The love in her eyes was like a punch in the gut. He wanted a good woman to look at him like that. “Why so soon?”
Her hazel eyes slid his way. “You got your secrets, so I’ll keep some of David’s.”
The love song ended and the Luther Vandross song “If Only for One Night” came next.
“I love this song,” Sandra said and grinned at him. “Come on and dance with me.”
He hated dancing, but the whisper of old feelings combined with his gratitude for all of her help polishing his business plan had him putting the champagne flute down and holding out a hand. “If you want your feet smashed, I’m your guy.”
They rose, and David and Neecie came back over. David grinned at Sandra before going around the table and pulling her into his arms for a kiss.
“Isn’t this your favorite song?” David asked.
Sandra wrapped her arms around David’s neck. “You remember.”
“I never forgot.” David kissed her again. “Come on, dance with me.”
Sandra grinned, then turned to Kareem. “Looks like you don’t have to dance.” David swept her onto the floor. Where Neecie didn’t fit in his brother’s arms, Sandra looked perfect.
“You were going to dance with her?” Neecie asked.
Kareem shrugged. “Yeah, she asked, so I figured what the hell.”
“Oh.”
He looked away from his brother and Sandra to Neecie. She pressed her lips tight and toyed with one of the napkins on the table. Ah, hell, he’d done that—taken the smile off her face. He didn’t know how to explain his willingness to oblige Sandra. Guilt twisted his midsection. Like he really was her man and she’d caught him doing wrong.
“Let’s get out of here.” Before this feeling that they were real took hold.
She nodded. “Sure.”
“I’ll go tell my family I’m out,” he said.
“I’ll wait for you by the door.”
He considered asking her with him to say goodbye to his family. They were supposed to be together. If he agreed to her plan, and her family came snooping around his, Kareem didn’t want his family to contradict anything. Neecie held his stare for a few seconds before she smiled and walked away. His eyes dropped to her hips, roamed down her legs, then made their way back up. The need to possess her stirred his cock.
Candlelight and soft music. That’s what she deserved. Not his style. He needed to remember that.
Dragging his gaze away from Neecie, Kareem made his way to his parents. They hovered along the edge of the dance floor, watching everyone have a good time. Kareem doubted a queen would look more regal than Loretta Henderson in her silver, off shoulder gown. Roger Henderson, always dressed to impress, complemented his wife’s good looks in the same black tuxedo worn by the wedding party. Another couple that looked perfect together.
Kareem leaned over to kiss his mother’s cheek. “I’m leaving.” He stepped back before she could pull him into a hug.
“So soon?” his mom asked, in a voice that begged him to stay longer.
“Yeah, I’ve got to get Neecie back home.” The excuse sounded lame to his ears. But better to say that than admit he felt suffocated by all the in love couples.
Loretta placed a hand on his forearm and squeezed. “She’s a nice girl. It took you long enough to bring her around. I guess Aaron wasn’t far off when he teased you about her.”
His youngest brother insisted Kareem liked Neecie from the second she’d started working in his shop. To keep his matchmaking mother at bay, Kareem always denied his interest. “We just hooked up. Don’t get too excited” he said, unwilling to offer any more.
There was a tap on his shoulder, and he turned to the exuberant face of his baby sister. Janiyah jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck. He was momentarily smothered by silk and lace before she pulled away with a grin.
“I know you’re leaving. I can tell by the disappointed frown on Mom’s face. I had to hug you before you snuck out.”
“I was coming to say goodbye.”
“I wish you’d stay longer. I know Neecie would like to dance, and that’s something I’d love to see,” Janiyah said teasingly.
Fredrick strolled over, his wire-framed glasses askew from all the dancing, and wrapped his arm around Janiyah’s waist, pulling her against his chest. “Leave your brother alone, and let him go home with his woman.”
Janiyah tried to pout, but it was gone as soon as Fredrick kissed her cheek. His parents chuckled at the display. The love between the two tightened the envy knot in his chest.
Kareem reached over and squeezed Janiyah’s shoulder. “I’m happy for you.”
She got that doe-eyed expression, which meant she was about to cry or hug him. “Enjoy the honeymoon.” He hurried away before she sucked him back into her tight embrace.
David and Sandra were still on the dance floor wrapped in each other’s arms. No need to say his goodbyes to them. His youngest brother, Aaron, stood in a corner with Janiyah’s best friend Liz. The redhead tugged on one of the kinky twists on his brother’s head, and Aaron ran a finger down her arm. Kareem shook his head. Nothing good would come of that.
“Aaron, I’m out.”
Aaron looked up then threw up his hand. “Have a good night.” He winked then pointed toward Neecie waiting at the door.
Kareem waved him off, and Aaron went back to flirting with Liz. Kareem glanced at Neecie. A pull went through his midsection. The rest of his family all had someone to go home with that night. None of them were plagued with memories of the wrong they’d done in the world. If he’d made better decisions, maybe a sweet chick like Neecie would be waiting for him, her cute smile and romantic vibe ready to wrap around him as they made love and fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Kareem snorted. “I’ve got to get away from all this happiness,” he mumbled.
He wanted to take her hand, wrap his arm around her shoulders, pull her close to him and breathe in some of the fresh air that surrounded her.
“You ready?” she asked, still smiling, still tempting him to yearn for things he lost one night years ago with a gun in his hand.
His shoulders tightened. Resentment boiled in his stomach. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” He brushed around her and rushed out the door.
CHAP
TER 4
Patrice entered DiPrato’s Delicatessen on Sunday morning and immediately spotted her brother sitting at one of the tables toward the back of the crowded restaurant. The place boasted a New York-style deli with a southern flair. Patrice stopped at the back of the long line to place her order. Chad saw her, stood, and waved her over. Her brother seemed out of place with the casual brunch crowd in his Coppley suit.
“I’m glad you finally made room for me in your busy schedule,” Chad said. He placed a hand on her elbow and leaned in to touch her cheek with his. Patrice jumped. She’d gone five years without the cheek-touching her family preferred over kissing.
Chad’s eyes filled with disappointment. “I take it you don’t want to touch me now?”
Patrice looked away. “Not when you have me followed.”
She reached for her chair, but Chad pulled it out for her. After she sat, he took his seat. “What was I supposed to do?” He draped a napkin over his lap.
“Trust me.”
“That became rather hard to do when you disappeared without a word. To Africa of all places.” Chad raised his palms and shrugged. “What made you go there?”
“I wanted to go there.”
“We would have taken you.”
“I wanted to go alone.”
A waiter arrived and placed a platter of DiPrato’s popular pimento cheese with flat bread in the center of the table, as well as a plate of Eggs Charleston before Chad and smoked salmon with a toasted bagel for Patrice.
Patrice stared at her favorite brunch menu item and balled her hands into fists on her lap. “Do you know my favorite dish at every restaurant?”
“I would prefer to have learned because you were home with us. Not based off an investigator’s report.” Chad clasped his hands together, closed his eyes, and lowered his head.
Patrice gritted her teeth and mirrored his movement.
“We thank you for this food today. And for the blessing of reconnecting with my sister. Amen,” Chad murmured.
“Amen.” Patrice grabbed her napkin and snapped it open before covering her lap. “I just needed some time to myself.”
Chad picked up his fork and held it over his food as if searching for the perfect place to dig in. “Time is taking a summer away. Five years is running away.”
“Time is however long I need to clear my head.” She cut a small piece of her salmon. Her shoulders relaxed after the first delectable bite. Annoyance with her brother wasn’t enough to overcome five years learning to be okay with enjoying good food.
“Roland asked about you,” Chad said without looking away from his food.
Patrice flinched and closed her eyes. “How is he?” She opened her eyes to Chad’s knowing expression.
“He’s well. Still cares about you.”
“I’m glad to hear he’s doing well. I know it was a shock to him when I broke off our engagement.”
Chad sat back in his seat. “A shock to him. It was a shock to all of us. We thought the two of you were in love.”
“Roland didn’t understand me.”
“How is that possible?” Chad shook his head, his voice filled with disbelief. “You two were together since high school.”
“That’s true.” Patrice took a deep breath then met her brother’s eye. “He also looked the other way every time I forced myself to throw up after meals and complimented my slim figure constantly.”
Chad dropped his fork, which hit his plate with a clang. He leaned forward, rubbing a hand across his brow then jaw. “Don’t joke like that, Patrice.”
“It’s not a joke. I had some real issues going on, and I needed some time.” Patrice sighed and took a sip of water. “I did love Roland, but if I had married him I would have continued hurting myself while he looked the other way. One day I realized couldn’t live like that.”
“Why didn’t you talk to us?” Chad rested his forearm on the table. “We would have gotten you the help you needed.”
Her family’s idea of help was exactly why she needed to go alone. A few weeks with a therapist and they would have assumed she would be cured. “I needed to work some things out for myself, and I needed to do it away from everyone else.”
Chad’s lips pressed together. “Did you stop to think about us? Your family? We worried about you.”
Guilt churned the salmon in her stomach. “Surprising, since you had an investigator following my every move.”
“That’s not the same, Patrice, and you know it. When you went to Africa we figured you were on some journey for enlightenment. But when you came back stateside and started working in beauty salons and barber shops, we wondered if you’d lost your mind.”
“I haven’t lost my mind. I enjoy making other people look good.” After years of forced perfection by her family, helping others find their own beauty, even if it was through a hairstyle or makeup, made her feel better.
“Even still, you shouldn’t be working in a corner barber shop. Dressing like some,” he waved at her flowing red skirt and matching scarf she’d used to tie back her hair, “gypsy, and dating a thug.”
“Kareem is not a thug.”
“Really, is there another word for a man that went to jail for carjacking then got into numerous fights behind bars?”
Patrice gripped her napkin; she’d overheard the talk in the shop and knew Kareem used to be a member of a gang and had gone to prison for carjacking, but not the details. “I see you’ve snooped into his past.”
“As I should. I’ll admit, his family is decent,” Chad said as if even that concession pained him. “But he isn’t good enough for you.”
“You don’t know anything about him.”
“And what do you know about him, Patrice? This guy you’re claiming to marry. Do you know his favorite color?”
Easy. “Black.”
Chad’s lips twisted. “Favorite song.”
“He loves reggae and Bob Marley.”
“His goals,” Chad said, narrowing his eyes.
Patrice smiled and leaned back in her chair. “To grow his shop.”
Chad’s annoyance gave way to a smirk. “Who came to his house last night after he dropped you off?”
Her heart rate sped up. Of course her brother would follow Kareem as well.
“His friend Omar.” In her mind a picture of Kareem’s ex-lover Misty waltzing into his apartment flashed.
Chad glared for several seconds before letting out a breath and looking away. Patrice relaxed. She’d guessed right; otherwise, Chad would gloat.
“I don’t like you with him. He’s bad news.”
“If you want me home next weekend then you’re going to have to get over that. He’s coming with me.”
Once she convinced him. Though he’d been her alibi this weekend, Kareem hadn’t given her a definite answer.
“Why?”
She’d asked herself the same question from the moment the words flew out of her mouth. The same lie wouldn’t have sprung up if it had been Al or Lee in the shop when Chad arrived. Kareem had a way of looking out for the people in his circle. She only hoped after working with him for a year he would be willing to look out for her.
Yeah, he’s really the kind of guy happy to sacrifice his time and pretend to be your man.
“Don’t worry about the why,” Patrice said. She picked up her fork and cut her salmon again. “Just accept that the Patrice who left five years ago isn’t the Patrice who’s coming home. If you want to get to know that Patrice, you’ve got to get to know the man in my life as well.”
• • •
Kareem sat on the balcony of his spacious two bedroom apartment, a cigar in one hand, a pencil in the other. He exhaled a line of smoke then re-worked the shading on the sketch in his notebook. All weekend long the joy in Janiyah’s and Fredrick’s eyes had inspired Kareem to draw them. The picture would make a nice wedding present, but he didn’t share his sketches. Plus, Janiyah would get teary eyed and hug the life out of him. Kareem smiled. His sister didn�
��t do anything halfway.
His cell phone rang on the plastic table next to his chair. Dropping the cigar in an ashtray, Kareem put the notebook on the table.
An unfamiliar number lit the screen. He frowned and answered. “Yeah?”
“What’s up K-rock?” The gravelly voice of Tim Brown, his old cellmate from prison, greeted him.
Kareem pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned the chair back on two legs. Hearing from Tim brought a mixture of wariness and pleasure. “Got a new phone, huh?”
Tim’s rough laughter echoed through the phone. “I had to get rid of the old one. The guard brought in a new shipment of contraband this week.”
“Anything good?”
“Just phones and cigarettes. They’re cracking down after those guys released that video on the web a few months back. Made it hard to get anything.” Tim sounded like someone complaining about the service at a five-star restaurant instead of prison contraband.
Kareem grinned and shook his head. “That’s why you haven’t called in a while.”
“Exactly. So what’s going on? You keeping your nose clean?”
“Every day,” Kareem said solemnly. If not for Tim stepping in and ending a fight—and the life—of the guy trying to make Kareem’s life in prison a living hell, Kareem would still be sharing that jail cell.
“What’s happening with the shop?” Satisfaction filled Tim’s voice. “You got any further on your fancy plans?”
Tim’s comments weren’t mocking. Tim had actually liked Kareem’s idea from the second Kareem confided in him around the third year in.
“Got turned down at the bank yesterday because my idea is too risky.”
“What?” Tim didn’t talk loud, but his disbelief was evident. “You got most of your cash.”
“Apparently that isn’t enough.”
“Bullshit. What are you going to do?”
Kareem dropped his chair back on four legs and leaned forward. He rested one elbow on his knees and rubbed his forehead with his free hand. “Not sure. I think I found a way.”
“What’s the deal?”
Kareem quickly ran through what happened with Patrice and her offer.
Romance in Color Page 4