by Love Belvin
“I’m telling you, Lex, you gotta come! It’s right in Harlem; you don’t even have to get a car!” Anushka slammed her palm into the glass counter with each syllable. “The brothers in there were hand-carved by the gods! Do you hear me?” Her eyes lit up inside the dark circular melanin around them. She combed her long raven silky mane with her fingers as she smiled brightly. “Okay. Don’t believe me. While I gag on the anaconda down my throat, which I brought home from the club, I’ll be thinking about you, naysayer.”
I cackled hard at that. Leave it to Anushka to have me entertained at my part time job at Saks Fifth Avenue. I’d been working there for six years. The money was good for a part time gig. My commissions helped me take on a few expenses. It was slow paced and allowed me a balance between interfacing with the impoverished of the inner city and some of the wealthiest in the tri-state area. Anushka started about two years ago and attached herself to me without invitation. She was a woman of Indian descent, who defied every moral fiber of her culture. You could call her the proverbial rebel. She abandoned her four year track at Columbia to pursue her dreams as a yoga instructor and freelance painter. Anushka created beautiful acrylic pieces; I’d purchased two since knowing her. Needless to say, she remained at war with her parents about her life choices. Her passions didn’t fully pay her bills so her time here—entertaining me—supplemented her income.
“Do you date Indian men?” I asked curiously.
Since meeting her, all Anushka ever talked about were men and sexual ventures, specifically with black men.
“I’ve never had an Indian dick up in me. Ever,” she annunciated with a subtle accent.
I gasped. “You’re shitting me!”
“I swear on a stack of Bibles.” She raised her operable left hand: I’d always envied left-handers. “I wasn’t born to take an Indian cock. Those motherfuckers are too selfish. They’re taught to get off, not to get their lovers off. I like to be handled by a Mandingo.” She wound her hips in the air to emphasize the point. “In my culture, people can’t fuck until they’re married and don’t usually marry until they’re financially established. That could be in their late twenties! Ain’t nobody got time for that!” She swung her left arm in the air. It was clear Anushka had acclimated to western culture quite seamlessly. “You know how many orgasms I’ve had since high school? They’re a crucial part of my existence. Fuck out of here!” she almost enunciated correctly but for the lack of blending words.
“You know,” I was able to utter, trying to break from my laughing fit. “Your parents knew what they were doing when they named you because yo’ ass is definitely endearing!” My lower arms gripped my belly. She’d once shared with me the meaning of her name.
Without skipping a beat, Anushka winked. “And damn good in bed.” I couldn’t stop laughing. “Oh, shit,” she breathed out softly. “And what do we have here?”
I slowly straightened so I could appear professional before I turned to see what had arrested her attention. When I did, all traces of humor had been knocked completely from my face. The beard. That was the first thing that struck me. His eyes perused the white carerra marble surfaces lined with designer garb with dedicated examination. There were two others with him. One of the two men’s rapt attention was invested in the phone in his palms. And the third was Thaddeus, whose eyes caught mine and he tapped his ‘baron’ on the arm, in an attempt to ‘subtly’ call his attention. Ezra’s eyes slowly appeared on me with smooth precision as though he’d known my exact physical location all along.
What the hell is he doing here?
My chest rose as my lungs vacuumed all the air from the room. As soon as the suctioning stopped I was able to swallow, hard. Anxiety prickled my skin and goose bumps covered my entire frame. In seconds, nervous excitement wrapped around my spine and snaked up to the back of my skull.
“Which one?” Anushka gritted impatiently as though it was not her first time asking.
“Wh-what?” my words fumbled.
She wouldn’t look at me. Like an idiot, I peeked over to her for answers and she spoke without moving her lips, like a puppeteer, while facing forward. My mouth tasted of a citrusy mix from acute stress and…fear.
Fear? Why was I afraid?
“Which one do you want? I can’t decide between the one in the short tweed and the one with the wool nautico—Shit!” she gasped then sang, still mouth unmoving. “Is that Cucinelli?”
Cucinelli? How could she make out a designer when I couldn’t move to breathe? I could smell him…that visceral scent again. My lids fluttered. Damn it! I was aroused. It wasn’t something I was accustomed to experiencing, and so randomly, but definitely a sensation I was familiar with and would address…alone….in my damn bed!
“Honey, I’d take the fat one with the browline frames just because he’s a member of the swag gang!” she whispered even lower as the trio approached us. And when they arrived, she spoke up first. “Looking for anything in particular today, fellas?” extreme professionalism suddenly reared.
There was no response. No one spoke for what seemed like forever. Picking up the oddity in it, Anushka finally glanced my way. I met her eyes then we went back to the men.
She tried again. “You look like fashionistos,” she dragged the word salaciously. I cut my eyes over to her and caught the lustful trail of her gaze down Carmichael’s body. I then noticed how his eyes narrowed and were fixated on her face. “You’re probably already aware, but we carry stalwart labels such as Armani, Burberry, and Versace including sportswear, work attire, and formalwear—”
“Gujarat or one of the Union Territories of Dadar?” Carmichael asked softly underneath that beard, his strong tenor hidden beneath his breath, the v between his bushy brows was in place. I had no idea what the hell he was asking, wasn’t familiar with those designers. He quickly amended, “Or one in Nagar Haveli?” He regarded her expectantly.
For once, I experienced my friend stammered and muted. “Uhhhh…” Anushka wet her lips nervously. Is she feeling the same buzzing feeling I am? Her fingertips brushed over her collar bone before retreating down and behind her. “My dad, a boy from Khadoli, fell for a girl from right off the beach…Mahim Bay.” She coughed nervously.
“Ah,” Carmichael expressed the confirmation. “Dadar and Nagar Haveli.” His full lips twitched and I could tell he was fighting a smug grin.
Arrogant fucker…
Right after a deep audible swallow, Anushka murmured, sans her typical confidence, “Ho-how did you know?” She shook her head and rolled her eyes with sudden revelation and snorted, “My accent? But how could you narrow it down like that? You grew up around lots of Indians?”
He shook his head, then a full on satisfied smirk appeared on Carmichael’s face. “Your obvious monophthongs and their clusters. You still have the vowel breaking in your enunciation. It’s unique in the various Indian dialects.” Then his eyes transferred over to me at a faster speed than I could process. “Alexis, can you assist my friends and me? I’ll meet you by the shoes.” He casually walked off after that edict.
Carmichael’s friends fell in step behind him, making their way to shoes. I shot Anushka a questioning glare. She returned it and mouthed, Do you know him? Like a complete dunce, I shrugged my shoulders and followed the men. The department was outfitted like a gallery, displaying eye-catching and popular names to attract attention. I noted several floor models out of place and committed to fixing them once I got rid of Carmichael. He was seated on a bench, opening his coat while waiting for me as I gaited toward him. His friends dispersed, observing the wall display.
I bent down near his feet to grab a stocking someone must have left behind and asked, “How can I help you, Brother Carmic—?”
“Ezra,” he quickly asserted evenly.
That response locked my knees and I was frozen on my haunches. “Pardon?”
“My name is Ezra.”
“You told Lillian to call you Brother Carmichael,” I reminded him.
&
nbsp; He lowered his forehead and hiked his brows. “To you, Alexis, my name is just Ezra.”
I never told him my name. “How do you know my name?” I felt my temper escalating.
“You told Miranda—”
“My name is Lex.” I cut him off this time.
There was silence. Our eyes warred, communicating stubborn spirits that refused to concede. Already I was over Carmichael’s arrogance. But doing this gave me full vantage of his warm brown face. Tonight, there was a magnetic cloud of thick hair over his lip and on his chin and jaw. The last time I couldn’t appreciate his facial features because I was stretched out at his damn feet. All I could recall, and so vividly, was him not helping me to my feet. Again, I was over him already!
But his eyes…
Below the thick messy bush of his brows were lochs of chocolate that were like vaulted doors, even more so than the bottom of his face hidden by hair. They were intense and piercing. I could feel something weighty…powerful behind them. I could also recognize they were purposely closed to me. His nose was modest in size, neatly trimmed to his face. His lips, I’d already witnessed their full nature, but now I wanted to see them against his teeth to fully examine them. He sat with his spine upright, his shoulders stretched wide and masculine thighs spread apart, giving off an imperious air. Even so, Carmichael was undeniably handsome. His attractiveness wasn’t in pretty boy fashion like a Shemar Moore or Boris Kodjoe. No. There was a bit of ruggedness to his splendor, yet his individual features could rival theirs any day. He was extremely attractive and I already knew he was fully aware. What I didn’t understand was my irrefutable draw to him. My damn breasts were heavy, my nipples prickled against the cloth of my thin bra.
“It would do you well to never cut me off again when I’m speaking to you, Alexis.” With hard eyes, and a creased forehead Carmichael held my glare.
My mouth dropped to the floor at his fucking audacity. I would’ve never guessed he’d be so bold as to speak to me that way. Hard air pushed through my nostrils when I forcefully pursed my lips because if I hadn’t, I knew I’d be fired for cussing the pastor the fuck out by the end of the night. Who did this asshole think he was? We were not in Redeeming Souls for Abundant Living in Christ church tonight. We were in the real world, my job!
Then his eyes fell below my nose, then moved lower. I followed the trail and in no time found the source of his captivated attention. My nipples were protruding like hard pebbles through my thin silk blouse that was tucked into my black slacks. This was for sure strange! It’d never happened to me before. I only had three blouses and slacks—our uniform—to go between for Saks and my bra wasn’t new. So why in the hell were my breasts pushing through?
In a brief moment of clarity, realizing what was being exposed to this minister, my head shot up to him. Quickly his eyes found mine again, but this time Ezra’s mouth hung agape. That shot my levels of ‘pissivity’ off the damn Richter scale.
“And it would do you well to do unto others as you’d have them do unto you,” I grated through clenched teeth. “If you don’t want to be cut off, don’t cut me off. Now, how can I help you, Ezra?”
I wanted to call him by his first name now. He’d lost the little remnants of respect I’d had for him after leaving me on the floor then speaking to me as though I was the nimrod I portrayed that evening at his feet.
Slowly, his face expanded, relaxing the muscles he’d used to intimidate me with a scowl. And I’d be damned… His features transfixed into an impressed smile. It was an unexpected smile for him. I could tell because his brows were still narrowed. However, I was awarded a smile that included his lips and many of his teeth. Damn, it was beautiful. My eyes must have been fixated on that area of his face because I saw the moment his tongue pushed out and swiped the front of his teeth, moving from his right molars, passing his canine, going over his incisors and on to the other side before retreating back into his mouth. That one racy performance sent me tumbling back on my ass.
“Shiiiit!” I shrilled all the way down to the floor before hitting my head on a low display table behind me.
In the next beat, I saw his friends approaching me. This time, Ezra didn’t leave me on the floor. In fact, he jumped to his feet and stretched out his arms on either side, demanding they stay away, and then he took me at the wrists, rubbing gently between his thumb and index finger as he inspected them for seconds long before helping me to my feet. That was…strange, and erotic in some form, but I couldn’t focus on that. I immediately smoothed down my clothes, refusing to meet his gaze.
“What can I do for you?” I asked again, successfully masking my humiliation.
“The new StentRo Elegantes, do you have them in stock?” he asked softly.
I had to take a moment to consider his request. NBA star, Stenton Rogers, recently released, not one, but two lines of footwear. One was an athletic shoe, designed in low and high top, reasonably priced for the droves of impressionable kids to consume. The other was a hybrid shoe, which was a cross between a running shoe and formal footwear. According to the write-up we received here from the Nike headquarters where they were manufactured, our pitch should include that they can be worn both casually and athletically. This particular design, the Elegantes were at a higher price point. They ran between $700 to $1,100 depending on the leather or calf-skin finishing.
Recalling the product, I asked, still unable to meet his gaze, “Sure. What size can I grab for you?”
“Give me the courtesy of your eyes when you speak to me, Alexis,” he asserted firmly. That diminished any feelings of embarrassment at this point. But before I could ask him again about knowing my first name, he continued, “Sizes 8 and a half, 11, two 12s, and one 13 and a half.”
I hadn’t been expecting such a range. Carmichael didn’t know his size?
“Do you need to be fitted?” I asked sincerely.
He chuckled softly. “No. I am fully aware of the size of my feet.”
What the hell ever…
“What color?”
“I believe the calf skin comes in just one color, yet.”
“Those aren’t available now and definitely not in stores. I’m sure we have the leathers in black and hunter, though.”
His brows narrowed smugly as he stood with his hands clasped at his pelvis. Damn, he’s really taller than me. Between that fact and his scent, I was at a fucking disadvantage. “I’m sure the ecru calf skin has arrived at the stores and are in stock.”
I’d just done inventory a few days ago on my last shift. I knew the calf skin ecrus were not in this store. However, as was our policy, we never argued with customers. We entertained their impossible demands and made recommendations based off their original requests. I’d do just that.
“Fine. I’ll go take a look. In the meantime, would you like to see those sizes in leather? If so, which colors?”
Ezra shook his head as he snorted softly. “No. Only the calf skin, please, Alexis.”
In that instance, I decided to save the question of how he knew my name until I proved him wrong and sent him running out of here from the cost of all the shoes he requested.
“Okay. I’ll be back in a moment.”
I made my way to the back, knowing exactly where to go for this caliber of shoe. I immediately went to the leather Elegantes where I knew they’d be. Just as I reached for a size 8 and a half, I snickered to myself how this must be Carmichael’s size and how it might be indicative of his dick size. That’s when I noticed the filled area. The carpeted shelf was occupied by shoe boxes the same color and size as the leather shoes.
Damn it!
The fucker was right.
“Jim!” I called out to our back room staff.
“Yeah, Lex?” he shouted from a few rows ahead.
“When did the new StentRos come in?”
“Ahhh…” he hesitated for a moment. “The leathers were shipped last week. The calf skins came in yesterday.”
Fuck!
I quickly d
ecided to not dwell on being wrong. The longer I took collecting his order, the longer I’d have to endure his agonizing presence here. I balanced five boxes in my hands and padded out to the floor.
“Whoa!” I shrieked when one of the boxes tumbled over onto the floor. I’d lost my balance the moment his scent hit my nostrils. “Which would you like to try on first?” I refused to give Ezra even half a glance.
“None, though I’ll be ready to check out as soon as you admit you were wrong and I was right,” he uttered with heavy vocals.
My eyes shot up to him. I wanted to say, ‘Instead of acting like you’ve won money in a major bet you should be prepared for the five grand tab I’m about to ring.’ But instead I forced a polite smile and uttered, “I was wrong. They came in yesterday on my night off.” Then I bent to grab the boxes.
“Don’t worry about the boxes,” he informed in a commanding tone that had me halt my movements right away, involuntarily.
Just then, Thaddeus and the other guy jumped into action, scooping the shoes in their hands. We all took off to the register and when I rang up the shoes, I paused before bagging them.
“That’ll be $5,522, sir.” I fought to keep my smugness from my tone and face.
Within a span of seconds, my roguishness dissolved at the intense sight of Carmichael’s hand halting midair behind him as he reached for his wallet and his eyes narrowed and darkened into black beads. I’d pushed a sensitive button. But what? My brain and body wouldn’t liaise to even move, much less be able to cognize what had just taken place. I could hear my pulse pound in my damn head.
“Come again, please?” he murmured with his chin to the floor, his eyes keenly stapled to my mouth.
Fighting for aplomb, I cleared my throat nervously and repeated, “That’ll be $5,522, sir.” My brows hiked, confused by his request.
For seconds long, no one moved, not even his entourage. Then Ezra brought his thumb up to his mouth and edged the seam of his bottom lip, contemplatively.
“Very well,” he uttered before handing me his American Express.