Romance in Color

by Synithia Williams

  Her anger faded. “There’s nothing to make up. Please understand, I can’t let my ex hang around offering to make my dreams come true.”

  Roland raised a brow and a spark went off in his eye. “If Kareem were secure in your relationship, he wouldn’t feel threatened by my offer to help.” His smug tone irritated her.

  “I didn’t say he’s threatened.”

  Roland nodded. “I know you didn’t.” The smug tone remained, and Patrice felt ill.

  Wade walked back over. “Sorry about that, but I had to speak with him. Patrice, be sure to let me know when your salon opens.”

  Pushing aside her unease, she gave Wade a small smile. “It’s my fiancé’s place, and I’ll be sure to include you on the invitations for our soft opening in a few weeks.”

  Kareem walked up and slid his arm around her waist. He wore a pleasant expression, but the muscles in his body were tight.

  “Kareem, meet Wade Livingston. He’s new on the city council.”

  Kareem shook Wade’s hand. “I noticed your ads. Nice to meet you.”

  “Same here. Roland was telling me about the salon you’re opening. Good luck.”

  “Thank you.”

  Wade then pointed to Patrice and Roland. “With partners like these, this place is bound to be successful.”

  Kareem’s hand on her hip tightened. “That’s what I hear,” Kareem said.

  Wade looked at his watch. “I’m going to do another round before the auction starts. Again, nice meeting you two.”

  “I should get back to Felicia,” Roland said. “Patrice, Kareem, we’ll talk soon.” Roland threw a knowing glance Patrice’s way before leaving with Wade.

  Kareem ushered her to the side of the room and faced her with angry eyes. “Since when did we become partners with Roland?”

  “We’re not. He came over talking partnership with the new councilman on his arm. I tried to say something when Wade walked away, but I don’t think he took it very well.”

  “Why not? What’s hard to understand about we’re not partners?”

  “He just says he wants to help.”

  “Then help, but don’t tell everyone we’re partners. I don’t like the guy.”

  After Roland jumped to insinuate Kareem was insecure, she questioned his friendliness. “I understand, and we’ll both make it very clear that he’s not a partner. He just wants—”

  “If you say he wants to help one more time I might punch a hole in the wall.” His voice was sharp and angry. “Quit making excuses for him.”

  Patrice placed her hands on her hips. “I am not making excuses, and we’re not having this argument again.” She tugged on the lapels of his jacket. “Seriously, let’s not go there. Let’s go back to where we were before—when you talked about dragging me off into some secluded corner.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked, but his eyes went flat. “Maybe later. Come on, let’s go back into the ballroom.” He turned and walked away, leaving her behind.

  CHAPTER 23

  Kareem sat at the newly-constructed bar in his lounge and stared at the brushed nickel fixtures Neecie picked out for the hair wash areas. The sound of music from his phone echoed in the empty space. The construction workers were long gone, as he should have been. He wasn’t ready to go back to Neecie’s parents.

  He stared at the new walls and remodeled floors. Just a couple more weeks and the place would open. This was his dream. His lounge. Opening this place and revamping his life was what he should be focused on. Not untying the knots Neecie created in his stomach.

  Instead, his chest ached and his stomach clenched when he thought about letting her go once the place opened. He wanted to keep her in his life. But could he really make her happy? Could he really trust her? Roland had backed off after the auction, but the entire partner thing still stunk to him. And as if they already didn’t have a butt load of crap to overcome, she’d started looking at him with that let’s fall in love expression of hers.

  Damn if he didn’t like it every time she did.

  A loud knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Frowning, Kareem checked the time on his phone. Nearly ten, and too late for someone to knock on the door of this place.

  He slid his hand into his book bag and pulled out a Glock .45. Rising from the bar, he held the gun behind his back and cracked open the door. The tension in his shoulders dissipated when he met Chad’s disdainful gaze.

  “What do you want?” Kareem’s attempts at being charming didn’t apply to Neecie’s pompous brother.

  “I was in the area and saw the light on. I figured I’d check out this place you and my sister have worked so hard on,” Chad said in his stuck up tone of voice.

  Kareem stepped back and opened the door. “Coming by to add your two cents about what we should do?”

  Chad stepped through the door and inspected the place. “No, I’m just coming to satisfy my curiosity.”

  Kareem closed the door; when he turned around Chad’s eyes were on the gun.

  “Planning on shooting me?” Chad asked in a cool voice.

  The corner of Kareem’s lip lifted. “I don’t like you, but I don’t want to shoot you.” He made his way back to the bar and slipped the gun in the backpack. “Unexpected knocks on a door at this time of night usually mean bad news.”

  “Thieves don’t typically announce themselves by knocking.” Chad followed him over.

  Kareem leaned a hand on the bar and faced Chad. “Best way to surprise someone is by catching them off guard. Knocking gives the impression it’s someone you know.”

  Chad raised a brow. “I forgot you were a thug.”

  Kareem’s shoulders tightened. “Came to check out the place and insult me?”

  “No, insulting you is just an added perk,” Chad said with a half-smile.

  Kareem let out a dry laugh and shook his head. If the guy weren’t such an asshole, he might actually like him.

  “Why are you really here, Chad? We both know you don’t give a damn about this place.” Kareem held out his hand to indicate the rest of the room.

  “I may not give a damn about it, but I do care about Patrice. She’s spent all of her free time working with you on this.” Chad crossed the room and inspected the contractor’s work. “I’m even hearing some positive interest in a few of my circles. I need to know what they’re talking about when they ask me what my sister and her fiancé are up to.”

  “Last time I checked, you had a kid. Maybe you should concentrate on watching him instead of playing overprotective parent to Neecie.” Kareem leaned his back on the bar and watched Chad. “And while you’re at it, stop calling me her fiancé as if it weren’t real.”

  “It isn’t. I’ve known that from the start,” Chad said with a flippant wave of the hand.

  The dismissal irked Kareem. “You’re using that as an excuse. We’re together. There should be no doubts by anyone about that.”

  Chad slowly spun on his heels to face Kareem. His polished loafers left a trail in the construction dust. “And you made damn sure to stake your claim on her. You treat my sister like a tramp, not like your fiancée.”

  Kareem pushed away from the bar. “I don’t treat your sister like a tramp.”

  “Yes, you do. You handle her. And make sure everyone knows you’ve put your filthy stamp on her.” Chad sneered, his body rigid. “Do you think we don’t know about where you took her at my parents’ anniversary? Or that the staff isn’t buzzing about the little peep show you two had on the balcony?”

  “That wasn’t about making a show for anyone.” It was just to see if his sweet Neecie would really get naked for him on a balcony. Disgust warped his stomach.

  “Save that crap for the next guy. You paw at her, lead her around like she’s your personal Playboy bunny. Never once have I seen you show my sister the least bit of affection.”

  Mentally he ran through all of his interactions with Neecie. “I’ve shown your sister more affection than any woman I’ve ever known.”
>
  “You’re using my sister for your own sick, twisted games. It sickens me to see her falling in love with you. And you treat her like a whore.”

  Kareem’s expression didn’t change, but his stomach flinched. Hadn’t his sick fantasy been to watch her sweetness give way to his desires?

  Kareem took a step toward Chad. “Neecie isn’t a whore.”

  Chad didn’t back down. “Then stop treating her like one. For some reason Patrice loves you. But it’s very clear you don’t feel the same. You’re in lust, and when this is all said and done you’ll move on and she’ll be heartbroken.”

  That was the plan they’d agreed to. The plan that had his stomach in knots. “The last thing I want to do is break your sister’s heart.”

  Chad appeared dazed for a second and then his gaze sharpened. “If that’s true, then go ahead and call off this farce of a relationship. She deserves better. She deserves a man who’ll love and cherish her. You’re not the man to do that. I ignored her problems the last time, but not this time around.”

  “I care about your sister.” Kareem couldn’t control the need that came through his voice.

  Something flickered in Chad’s gaze, but he blinked and hardened his stance. “But she deserves to be loved.”

  Chad strolled to the door. When he turned around his gaze did one last sweep of the place. “I can see the potential. This place may actually turn out successful. I don’t hate on any man for having dreams.” He met Kareem’s eye with a serious expression. “Unless he uses my sister to get there. You don’t deserve her, Kareem.” He jerked open the door. “Let her go.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Kareem burst through the door of the bedroom he shared with Neecie. She lay on the bed, asleep, her e-reader resting on the pillow next to her head. The sense of purpose that had driven him from his lounge back to their bedroom seeped out of him. He slowly crossed the room and stared down at her. Sleep enhanced her sweetness. Loose, curly hair framed her face, the strap of the white camisole hung off her shoulder, and she clutched a pillow to her chest. Every night he watched her sleep, afraid to lie beside her and possibly awaken her with a nightmare if she snuggled too close, forcing him to reveal his issues.

  Easing down on the side of the bed, Kareem ran his hand along her cinnamon brown thigh.

  He gave her a little shake. “Neecie, wake up.”

  She turned over onto her back and opened her eyes. Once the remnants of sleep cleared, she glanced at the clock then back at him. “Kareem, what’s up?”

  “I need to ask you something.”

  Her sunshine smile brightened his heart. “You couldn’t wait until morning?”

  He shook his head and tugged on one of the curls in her hair. His gaze traced across her features, down her neck, to one of the marks he’d left the night before. Disgust twisted his stomach. “Do I treat you like a whore?”

  Her brows drew together, and she pushed the hair from her face. “What are you talking about?”

  “Answer me. Do you think I treat you like a whore?”

  Neecie pushed herself up on the bed and leaned against the headboard. She scratched the side of her head and frowned. “Of course not. You’re not that bad.”

  Kareem fought not to flinch. “How bad am I?”

  “I know what to expect from you. You told me how you were, and I understand.”

  “But do you want more?”

  Hope flashed in her eyes before her lashes lowered. She plucked at the green and white comforter on the bed. “I’m not expecting you to give more.”

  Kareem licked dry lips. His heart thrummed like a hundred hair clippers. “What if I want to give you more?”

  Her eyes jumped to his. He saw her excitement, her hope, but he also saw wariness. “Kareem, I’m not asking you to change. I understand.”

  “No, you don’t.” He jumped up from the bed. The band around his dreads pulled his scalp tight. Kareem jerked at the elastic until it snapped, and his hair fell loose around his shoulders. Pressure built in his chest, pushing against his ribcage with so much force he felt ready to pop. He’d have to tell her.

  Patrice drew her knee up to her chest. Wide, understanding eyes pleaded for him to talk. “Help me understand.”

  The pulse in his temple pounded. His dry mouth suddenly flooded with saliva, and bile rolled in his throat. Closing his eyes, Kareem sucked in a deep breath. Then another. And another. He withdrew from the feelings, the disgust, the loathing.

  Warm hands closed around his forearm. He jerked away and opened his eyes to the wary expression on Neecie’s face.

  “I’m sorry,” he said in a strained voice.

  She crossed her arms and shook her head. “You were blanking out again. What happened? Trust me.”

  “Sit down,” he said, pointing to the bed. “This will be easier if you sit and I … pace.”

  Neecie sat and Kareem paced from one end of the bed to the other.

  “I went to jail because I lost control.” He swallowed hard then continued. “It wasn’t until the judge made his decision that I realized all of the so-called freedom I thought I had was actually me giving the Runners control over my life. I told you what happened, and I don’t want to talk about that again. Not right now anyway.”

  He looked around the room, thought about grabbing a cigar to ease his nerves, then changed his mind. Fran would light him on fire if she came in to clean and the smell of smoke clung to her precious fabrics.

  “For five years I had absolutely no control over anything. I was told when to eat. When to sleep. When to shower. I hated it. I was scared, but I covered it with resentment and anger, letting them both consume me.” He paused; the fear that once clenched him hovered at the edge of his mind. Kareem shook his head. “I couldn’t let anyone know how scared I was, so I talked a lot of shit. Bragged about what I did with the Runners. All to hide how terrified and hopeless I felt every damn day I sat in that prison.”

  “Then one day, in the middle of my daily shit talking, this guy laughed. They called him Cide. Short for homicide because he’d killed close to a dozen people … some young kids.” The sound of Cide’s mocking laughter played in Kareem’s head, making his skin itch. “He called me a bitch. So what did I do? Told him ‘I got your bitch.’ Got ready to fight the meanest asshole in there when I should’ve kept my mouth shut. The corrections officers came and broke things up before they could get bad.”

  Neecie shifted on the bed. He spared a glance her way, saw the frown on her face, the question in her eye. Kareem breathed deep, noting the fresh smell of the plug in air freshener, Neecie’s fruity perfume, anything to block out the rank memory of the smell of that jail cell.

  “Later, Cide caught me in the showers.” He let out a dry laugh. “Typical. That don’t drop the soap bullshit is real. One second I’m showering, the next Cide has me pinned to the shower. Said he was ready for me to be his little…” He lost sight of the room. He smelled the cloying scent of the jail soap, felt the clammy mildew on the wall. His heart pounded with the fear he’d had that night.

  “I fought, hard. But all I could hear was him calling me a bitch … telling me he’d show me what a real man could do.”

  Neeice gasped. He couldn’t bear to look at her. “He slammed my face into the sink then pulled out the knife he’d made. That’s how I got this.” He ran a finger over the scar above his lip. “Things went fuzzy after that. I knew for sure it was over.”

  “Stop,” she said.

  But he couldn’t. “Cide had me, but Tim, my cellmate, came in. He jerked Cide away and nearly knocked him out. All I could think was how much I wanted to kill him. Wanted to make him suffer. I grabbed the knife off the floor.”

  “You killed him?” her horrified voice asked.

  He shook his head. “Tim held him up. Told me to do it. Real quick, two stabs right in the chest.” Kareem slapped his chest. “Puncture the lungs. Hate, embarrassment, anger, they all filled me. But I froze. Cide called me a punk. Tim snapped his n
eck. Just like that; it was over, and a man was dead. The corrections officer decided to show his face. ­­Tim took the blame for everything. Said he caught Cide attacking me and did what needed to be done. My parents hired a lawyer who prevented my part in the fight from adding to my sentence. Tim is still serving life.”

  “Do your parents know?”

  Kareem shook his head. “No. Just that there was a fight and a prisoner died. I didn’t need their pity.” He met her eye. “I don’t need anyone’s pity.”

  • • •

  Patrice stared at the stiff wall of Kareem’s shoulders. The pounding of her heart was the only reaction adequate enough for what he’d revealed. Pain filled her chest for the young man he’d been—the adult he’d become.

  He watched her, uncertainty and anger in his eyes. The hard line of his jaw dared her to cry. To feel sorry. Though her heart hurt, she refused to let the emotion overwhelm her or overshadow him taking this step.

  Standing, she crossed the room and placed her hands on the hard lines of his chest. “I’m proud of you.”

  Kareem’s lips parted and his head tilted slightly to the side. “Because I went to prison? Wanted to kill a man, but instead froze and let another man do what I was too scared to do?”

  She ran her hands across his shoulders stiff as granite. The light scratch of his dreads on her skin sent a shiver across her body.

  “Because you overcame everything life threw at you. Gangs, prison, assault. You could have chosen to let those decisions ruin your life. Instead, you created your gang of misfits. Help kids when they’re in trouble, and you’re taking your business to another level.”

  He didn’t speak, just studied her intently, a crinkle between his thick brows.

  “You deserve to be happy, Kareem,” she said. “You didn’t kill that guy; Tim did.”

  “But I should’ve done something. I should have protected myself.” Anguish filled his voice. “Not let Tim take the fall.”

  “Not taking a life, even after what he did, doesn’t mean you’re weak. Tim saved your life and sacrificed so that you could live. You don’t have to punish yourself or mourn the life you lost.”