Romance in Color

by Synithia Williams

  He took her usual answer with a shrug then waved to the rest of the guys before leaving. She didn’t have anyone waiting for her, so she sorted the cash he’d plopped in her hand and grinned at the ten-dollar tip.

  Lee snickered from the other side of the room. “Dang, Neecie, when you gonna give that guy a chance?”

  She raised a brow. “Not gonna happen,” she said, sliding her money in the pocket of her apron. “You think I’m going to give any of my clients some play, just so they can come back and tell you guys all the details?”

  Al stopped cutting his client’s hair and raised his hands. “Well, hell, that’s why we want you to go out with them.” His client agreed, and they dapped each other up.

  Patrice tossed a towel at Al and hit him in the face. “Aww, Al, are you so hard up for some play that you got to get it second hand from Mr. Wayne?”

  Rico let loose the grin that, combined with his nicely faded curly hair, made most women melt, smirked at Lee. “You just want to hear Neecie’s story because you don’t have any stories of your own.”

  Al pulled on the collar of his shirt. “Man, I have to beat the ladies off.”

  Lee shook his head. “What ladies, because I sure haven’t seen any ladies.”

  Patrice grabbed a broom and swept around her station. “All his ladies are on his computer’s hard drive.”

  The guys in the shop laughed, and Lee and Rico took over with the taunts to Al. Al’s teasing didn’t offend her. Once she’d proved she could give just as good as they could, the fellas opened the floodgates and just let the conversation flow, including her in any jokes, discussions, or debates. The easy camaraderie in the shop was the reason she preferred cutting men’s hair to working in a beauty salon with women. Less pressure to always be on point when she hung with a bunch of men.

  She glanced around at each of the guys. Al, Lee, Rico, and Kareem. She didn’t know every one of their stories, but in the past year she’d gathered they all were former members of the Runners. And once they walked away they came to work for Kareem. That was as far as the revelations went. Whatever they’d done in the gang they didn’t discuss in the shop. Not in front of her at least.

  “What’s got you so quiet?” Kareem asked.

  Patrice increased her previously lazy efforts to sweep the floor. “Nothing. Hungry. I’m going to go next door and get something for lunch.”

  She finished cleaning her area and untied her apron. She slid a few of the bills into the front pocket of her sweater and reached for her white leather jacket on the rack.

  Kareem stood. “I’ll go with you.”

  She lifted her shoulder as if it were no big deal and smiled, even though her heart thudded. Guess he was ready to give her an answer. “Sure.”

  Outside, the drizzling rain from earlier left a wet cold in the late October afternoon. They walked in silence to the soul food restaurant next door. Inside the warm space, the aromatic fragrance of good food filled the place. They placed a take out order then sat in the two small chairs near the door.

  Kareem shifted in the seat to face her and examined her from head to toe. She didn’t want to squirm, but the heat in his gaze made her feel as if she were dancing barefoot on a hot plate. Fantasizing about Kareem giving her hot looks was one thing—quite another thing to actually have him do just that.

  “You really want to use your family’s connections to help me with my business plan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I like your idea.” When he frowned she grinned. “I think you can make it work.”

  More long seconds of Kareem examination. “You really think that, don’t you?”

  Patrice relaxed and nodded. “I do. Look at how hard you work to make Fresh Cutz successful. You’re there first thing in the morning every day. You try to pretend like the kids who come in get on your nerves, but you always give them good advice. You gave every one of us that work for you a second chance. And you’re always looking out for me and everyone else in the shop.”

  “I’m not a good guy,” he said again, with enough seriousness to make her want to reach out and hug him. Something that would surely have Kareem pulling away.

  “Hey, you bought my lunch. That’s a good guy in my book,” she said with a grin.

  The corner of his mouth quirked, and he turned away from her. “It’ll take more than me buying you a fish sandwich to make me a good guy.”

  “Okay, how about playing my loving fiancé for a while?”

  That earned her the semblance of a smile—enough to turn his handsome face into a serious threat to the stability of her knees.

  Kareem shook his head. “I don’t know about loving.” His dark eyes slid her way, and a seductive twist softened the hard line of his lips. “But I can convince them you’re mine.”

  Patrice’s heart did a fluttery jig in her chest. “That should work.” Her voice quivered, and she cleared her throat. “Any other questions?”

  “Have you considered what’s going to happen when your family learns about my past?”

  “I did.” She couldn’t help but think of that after Chad threw Kareem’s past in her face.

  “Is that going to make things harder? I mean, I imagine they’ll be pissed we’re together. Do you really think they’ll help?”

  “I left five years ago for my own reasons; it doesn’t change the fact that the Baldwins are loyal. If I ask, they’ll help.”

  He nodded and leaned back in his chair. “You sure?”

  “I am.” She ran her hands over her pants and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Do you want to tell me more about your past?”

  Kareem’s body tightened, and he stared forward. “All you need to know is I was in the Runners. We ran guns up and down the East Coast. I was twenty-two when I went to prison for carjacking. Spent five years there and been out another five.”

  “That’s a Cliff’s Notes version,” she said, frowning.

  “This is a Cliff’s Notes engagement. Just an overview of what a relationship should look like, none of the specifics.”

  She’d do well to remember that. Unfortunately her fascination with him made her want to know more. “So, is that a yes?”

  The lady at the counter called out that their food was ready. “It’s a yes.” Kareem stood and walked with his sexy swagger to grab the bag. Patrice’s eyes strayed to his wonderfully curved backside then jumped to his face when he turned around.

  Kareem cocked his head in a silent motion for her to get up. She stood, and his dark, tantalizing stare stole her breath away. I can convince them you’re mine. Heaven help her, because she wanted to be his.

  • • •

  That weekend, Kareem’s eyes slid to Neecie in the passenger seat of his Nissan Maxima as they made their way to Charlotte for the “big charade.” Her natural curls framed her face like a halo, and she tapped her hands to the beat of the song. Torn jeans clung to her curvy hips, and an oversized tan sweater draped her tits to perfection.

  Kareem gripped the steering wheel. I’m going to sleep with her.

  Despite her confession that she saw the good in him, he decided to ignore the good part that said leave her alone and keep their ruse up only in public. Privately, he was going to make Neecie every bit his woman.

  Neecie slid her seat back and put her bare feet on the dashboard, revealing pink toenails and a cross tattoo on the top of her right foot. A chain of roses weaved from the top of the cross around her ankle.

  “Your feet on my dash, for real?” Kareem said.

  She turned to him with a bright smile. “Yes, for real. I promise not to put toeprints on your windshield.”

  Kareem leaned on the armrest between them. “You’ll be cleaning the windshield if you do.”

  Her chuckle sent various levels of pleasure through his body.

  “Can we change the music now?”

  “My car my music,” he said.

  “Aha, throwing my words back at me. It’s l
ike that now.”

  He glanced her way. The cute smile on her face brought up the corner of his mouth. “It’s like that. Besides, how can you get tired of reggae?”

  “How can you not like love songs?”

  “Love songs are just a flowery way of telling a woman you want to have sex. I’d rather just come out and let her know what I’m after.”

  He rubbed his chin and stole a glimpse her way. Patrice’s right foot shook back and forth on the dash.

  “All men don’t think that way.

  “All men don’t tell you they think that way.”

  Admitting he wanted to have lots of sex with her sat on the tip of his tongue. “Tell me about your family,” he said instead.

  She blew out a heavy breath and pressed her right hand to her forehead. “My family is perfect.” A tinge of disappointment clouded her voice.

  “You sound like that’s a bad thing.”

  “It’s not. It’s great … for them. My dad, Milton, comes from a long line of politicians and lawyers going back to Reconstruction. During the civil rights movement my great-grandfather made a name for himself in politics, and my grandfather made his way to the state senate, but my dad chose to pursue law. He believes he can make more of a difference sitting on the bench. He was known for giving teens who’d made a mistake the chance to right their wrongs. But if they showed up in his courtroom again, he didn’t hold back.”

  Kareem pursed his lips and nodded. Wonder what Milton Baldwin, III, would have said if Kareem had shown up in his courtroom. Hanging with a gang of gun runners and participating in a carjacking. Kareem’s body tensed. The guy would’ve thrown the book at him.

  “My brother took over my grandfather’s senate seat right before I left. He’s ten years older than me. He and his wife, Melanie, have an adopted son. Joshua. He’s—” She paused and pursed her lips. “Fifteen now. Wow. I’ve been gone a long time.”

  “What about the rest of the family?”

  “My mom, Janice, is the youngest daughter of the Corley family. Made their money through a home healthcare business they started in the seventies that is now Journey’s Healthcare. Melanie’s family made their money in agriculture.”

  A family of moneybags. He sat up and gripped the wheel with both hands. “That’s all?”

  “No. Then there’s my baby sister Elizabeth. We call her Beth.” She stopped talking. Kareem’s gaze shifted her way. She wasn’t quite smiling, nor was she frowning. Her lips were pursed like she was holding in her thoughts.

  “You and Beth aren’t cool.”

  She waved a hand and shook her head. “No … I mean, yes, we are cool. It’s hard not to be cool with Beth. She’s perfect. Polite, sweet, talented. She plays the violin and speaks fluent French and Spanish … all by the time she graduated from high school. And beautiful.” A heavy sigh escaped her lips. “Beth could be a model if she wanted, but she doesn’t let it go to her head.”

  Kareem frowned. “If your family is so perfect, why did you leave them behind?”

  She wiggled her toes, coming dangerously close to putting prints on his windshield, and pulled on one of the frayed edges on her jeans. “You’ve heard the square peg, round hole analogy before.” She looked at him, and he nodded. “I’m that square peg. I tried, really tried, to be the wonderful, ladylike, graceful daughter they deserved.” Her brows came together. “Too hard. I didn’t want to do that anymore. I had to just be me.”

  Kareem’s heart thudded. “Did they make you feel bad for who you were?” How could anyone not see how perfect Neecie was already? Overly romantic maybe. But he’d yet to witness the woman have a bad day.

  “No, they never intentionally did. It’s just part of living the high-profile life that comes with being well known in the community. I put more pressure on myself than they ever did.”

  He half grunted, half laughed.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing really. Just, I kind of know what you mean.”

  Her brown-eyed stare zeroed in, an obvious sign she wanted to know more about him.

  Kareem pointed to the radio. “Go ahead and change the music.”

  She did, and soon Miguel’s “Adorn” filled the car. He hated that song.

  “Are you going to elaborate now?” Neecie asked.

  “Elaborate how?”

  “You know. The putting more pressure on yourself thing.”

  He’d walked right into the hey, let’s talk situation. “Nothing to elaborate on.”

  Her bright chuckle accompanied the happy love song playing. “Usually when people say I know what you mean, they follow the phrase with a story. You know, a way to open up a bit and demonstrate how we’re relatable.”

  “We’re relatable?” he said.

  Neecie’s foot leaned closer to his windshield. “I swear I’ll leave toeprints for days if you don’t answer.”

  “Neecie.”

  A millimeter of space separated her foot from the glass. His heart rate accelerated—not because of fear of toeprints on his windshield, but from the discomfort of knowing he’d opened himself up to some sort of explanation.

  “Get your foot away from my windshield, woman. There’s nothing much to explain. I want to make sure I get things right with my lounge. Fix some of the BS I smeared on my family’s good name.”

  She didn’t immediately respond. He couldn’t look her direction. Slowly, her foot eased back until she rested it on the dashboard.

  “I’m confused. Your family name will get you almost anything you want in Columbia. Why not use it?”

  “Because I don’t deserve to use it.” His gaze slid toward Neecie, haloed by the bright sun filtering through the windows. “I don’t deserve to use your family name either.”

  “You’re not using their name; you’re using our connections. Besides, you’re coming to do me a favor.” Neecie sighed and leaned her head against the headrest.

  Miguel sang about letting his love adorn a woman. Code for let me in your pants. Kareem’s eyes drifted to Neecie. Hell, Kareem could almost relate to the song because his hands itched to touch Neecie’s soft skin.

  Her head turned and her eyes met his. “And even if you don’t think you deserve to use your family’s name, you do deserve to use every resource you have to make your dream a reality. There’s nothing wrong with that. Succeeding despite your history will only prove you’re just as smart and determined as your father and brother.”

  She closed her eyes and hummed along to the music. Kareem leaned back in his seat. Here he was thinking about getting his hands on her, and she contemplated all of the reasons why a decent guy like him should use all resources available to succeed. The true definition of a decent woman, she was smart, supportive, probably more down for her man’s needs than any female he’d dealt with since getting out five years ago.

  Neecie sang along with the song, holding her hands out and waving her head from side to side, her eyes closed and a sexy smile on her face.

  Kareem smiled. A real, long-term thing wouldn’t work, but he would make the most of the short time he got to have a good woman on his side.

  CHAPTER 7

  When the large, two-story, white colonial home came into view down the long drive, Kareem let out a low whistle. He knew that Neecie’s family was rich. He just hadn’t expected to feel like the Fresh Prince of Bel Air coming here. He would be the out of place guy thrown in the middle of a lifestyle he didn’t quite understand.

  “Just park next to the fountain for now,” Neecie said.

  She pointed to a line of cars next to the fountain in the circular drive. Maserati, BMW, Jaguar. The place looked like a high-end car lot.

  “Your parents expecting company?”

  “No, they belong to my family.”

  Kareem turned off the car and twisted in his seat to face Neecie. For the first time since agreeing to come, he second-guessed his decision. If he didn’t feel comfortable with his own family there was no way he’d feel comfortable with hers,
much less convince them that he was, as she said, the loving fiancé.

  He cleared his throat and twisted his head from side to side. If he was going to get the connections he needed to expand his business he’d have to make this work.

  “Nice house.”

  “Thanks.” Her normally light voice was tight, and she ran her hands across her torn jeans. With her lower lip pulled between her teeth, she didn’t appear to be breathing.

  “Are you okay?”

  She cleared her throat. “Yeah, sure, I’m great.” Her hands rubbed faster.

  That didn’t look like great. He held out his hand, hesitated, and then finally placed his over hers. Her fingers were like ice.

  “Are you scared?”

  “Nervous. Which is silly, I know. It’s just … I haven’t seen them in so long. I’m not the same person I was when I left. I don’t know if I’m walking into a house with the same people I left behind.”

  “Five years is a long time. Believe me, I know.”

  She cringed. “I’m sorry. I’m sitting here freaking out about being away for five years after traveling around finding myself. You left for five years for a completely different reason.”

  The words were like a punch to the gut. He didn’t talk to people about his time in prison. Except for the occasional unwanted memory attack he tried not to relive the time he spent there. But he understood the scary feeling of walking back into the fold of a family that loves you after being away for so long.

  “Everyone changes over time. You can’t do anything about that. The question is …” He tapped her shoulder lightly with his finger. “Did you miss them?”

  She took a deep breath. “I did.”

  “Then go with that. The rest will work itself out.”

  She gave him her sunshine smile, and he felt something a whole lot deeper than lust going on inside his chest.

  “Thanks, Kareem. For coming and everything,” she said.

  “I’m getting something out of this as well.”

  “I know. We’ll make it work.” She took a deep breath then nodded. “Let’s go in.”

  They got out of his car. She told him not to worry about the bags for now. They made their way up the stairs and rang the bell. A few minutes later a woman in her late fifties or early sixties, with brown skin, a face creased with laugh lines, and a simple, light blue dress answered the door. The woman’s light brown eyes widened before a large grin came across her face.