Real Love

by Alexandria House

  “All right.”

  I followed him into the dark shop, sticking by the door until he turned the lights on. As light filled the place, my eyes widened, and I whispered, “Wow,” as I took in my surroundings. Colorful framed artwork crowded the black-painted walls, everything from tribal symbols to naked black women. There were four stations set up with chairs he explained were adjustable and reclined, and a counter, kind of similar to the stations in a beauty salon or a barber shop, only instead of hair products, the counters were equipped with the tools of the tattoo trade—tattoo guns, bottles of ink, and packages of disposable needles and tubing.

  “‘Wow,’ as in you like it?”

  I nodded. “Yes, it looks fantastic! And the art? Where in the world did you find it? It’s so colorful and vibrant. I’d love to hang some of it on my wall!”

  “Oh, I did the artwork,” he said matter-of-factly.

  My mouth dropped open. “What? You did all of this?”

  “Yeah…they’re replicas of tattoos I’ve done.”

  “Shit, you should be selling your art instead of doing tattoos. You’re phenomenal!”

  He chuckled. “Well, believe it or not, people are more willing to pay for a tattoo than a piece of artwork. Being a tattoo artist is a much more lucrative career.”

  “Really? Well, I’d be willing to pay top dollar for any one of these pieces.”

  “Seriously?” he asked.

  “Yeah!”

  “Pick one. I’ll give it to you.”

  My eyes met his. “For real?”

  “Yeah…pick one, Ms. Buhari. I really want you to have one. After all, I wouldn’t have this place if not for you.”

  I felt my cheeks begin to heat up. “Um, you can call me Denise.”

  “And you can call me Hasaan.”

  “Hasaan, I can’t take your art from you. Name a price and I’ll pay it.”

  “No. I’m giving you a gift. Pick one.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah. Positive. I want you to have one, any one you’d like.”

  I sighed. “Okay…”

  I slowly walked around the shop, trying to choose my favorite piece of artwork, and finally settled on a picture of a brown fist held up in the air with the colors red, white, and blue oozing between the fingers against a black background. I pointed to it, and said, “That one.”

  He grinned and stepped over to the piece, lifting it from the wall. “You can have the frame and everything.”

  I took it from him and smiled. “Thank you. I really love it.”

  He stared at me, and said, “I wish I could get my hands on your skin.”

  I frowned. “What?”

  “Shit, I’m sorry. I mean for a tattoo. Your skin is so…I don’t know. It glows, you know? Some black ink would look crazy good on you.”

  “Oh…doesn’t that hurt, though?”

  He shrugged. “It depends on where on your body you get it done and how high or low your tolerance for pain is.”

  “Well. I can’t stand being in pain. A damn splinter puts me down.”

  He laughed. “I hear you, but I think some ink would look fire on you. Just saying.”

  I eyed the tattoo on his neck that was now plainly visible to me over the collar of his t-shirt. It was a very elaborate letter H. I lifted my hand and pointed to it. “Like this? Now this is fire.”

  “Thanks. The guy that I apprenticed under did this for me.”

  “He did a great job.”

  “Yeah, he’s the best, but I have something different in mind for you.”

  I gazed up at him. “Like what?”

  He walked over to one of the stations and grabbed a notebook. As he made his way back to me, he flipped through the notebook, finally finding what he wanted to show me and turning it around for me to see. “Now this is what I see for you. I call her Sister Africa.”

  I stared at the drawing of a woman with thick, dark lips, huge hoop earrings, and a huge afro that happened to be in the shape of the continent of Africa. “I love that,” I said softly. “But that looks big as hell. Where would you put it?”

  “On your back. Right in the middle.”

  “Hmm, sounds gorgeous…and painful. I’ll pass.”

  He grinned. “You scared of a little pain, Denise?”

  “Yep. Allergic to it.”

  He shook his head and nodded toward the tray of food that was now sitting on a chair next to the door. “Well, thanks for the food.”

  “No problem. Like I said, just keep it between us. My mom is the only one allowed to give her food away.”

  “Gotcha. You heading home now? Gotta be at the bank in the morning?”

  “Uh, no…they fired me.”

  “What?!”

  “Yep. So, I’m basically unemployed now. Helping my mom out until I figure out what I wanna do with my life.”

  “Well, this might not be what you want to hear, but I think it’s good they fired you. With the knowledge you have, now you can spend your time helping people like you helped me.”

  “Yeah, well, how do I make a living doing that? I need an income.”

  He shrugged. “Be a consultant or something. Charge a fee to help people set up crowdfunding accounts or to tell them what they need to do to get approved for a loan. It can be a small fee or whatever.”

  Shit, that was actually a good idea, and I told him so.

  “I won’t even charge you for it,” he quipped.

  I giggled. “Well, thanks for the freebie.” I held the picture up. “Both of the freebies.”

  “Anytime, Denise. Let me walk you to your car.”

  Once I was safely in the driver’s seat, I said, “Thanks, again.”

  “No problem. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.”

  13

  From: H_Peterson@rmail.com

  Hey, Denise:

  Haven’t seen you around in a while. Just wanted to invite you to Elite Ink’s grand opening on tomorrow. It’s an all-day thing, so feel free to drop in anytime so I can introduce you to the crew. Hopefully, I’ll see you there.

  Hasaan

  I was smiling as I read the email for the third time, unsure why it made me feel so good to read it. Okay, so I was really, really feeling Hasaan. But besides that, I think I was just in a good place in my life. I had taken his advice and begun to set up a consultation business. I had spent the last few days setting up a website, ordering business cards, and looking for a small, affordable office space. I was really feeling like there was a sense of purpose to my life for the first time in a long time.

  I let my fingers hover over the keyboard of my computer for a moment before typing my response:

  From: MsBuhariIfYoureNasty@ktmail.com

  Hi! You’ve been missing seeing my lovely face, huh? Lol. Well, I’ve been working hard on a special project. I’ll tell you about it when I come to your grand opening, because I’ll definitely be there. Congratulations, Hasaan.

  Denise

  *****

  “Girl, where did you get that painting?!” Greer shrieked as I stepped aside to let her into my—formerly her—apartment.

  “From the guy who has the tattoo shop right next door to my mom’s restaurant. He painted it.”

  “The asshole from the bank?”

  “He’s actually not an asshole,” I said as I closed the door and crossed the room to the sofa. “He’s really nice. He was just upset about being turned down for a loan that day.”

  Greer shifted her eyes from the painting hanging over my TV to me. Inching closer to me, she leaned forward and looked me in the eye. “He must be fine.”

  I tried to keep a straight face, but a smile broke through anyway. “As hell.”

  “Hmm, is he why you dumped Christian?”

  I sighed and threw up my hands. “For the one-millionth time, I didn’t dump him, or at least it’s not as bad as you’re making it sound. He ain’t no damn victim. And no, there’s nothing between me and Hasaan.”

 
; “You wanna screw him, though, don’t you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Lying ass. Anyway, that painting is hot! He’s talented! And he does tattoos, too?”

  I nodded. “His shop’s grand opening is today. I was planning on dropping by to check it out.”

  “Oh, did me popping up mess up your plans? I was missing you and Trevia and Dallas,” she whined.

  “Girl, you ain’t stopped shit. I’ma just take your ass with me. He might even sell you one of his paintings.”

  “Oh, I hope so!”

  “Let me call and see if Trevia is available so she can go with us.”

  “She in town? I haven’t talked to her in a couple of days, and you never know when she and Nyles are on the road.”

  “I know,” I agreed. “His schedule is crazy since the TV special, but they’re in town this week. Us three together? It’ll be like old times.”

  “I know! And girl, you know Kennedy and Derek are my world, but I’m glad for this little bit of me time. I’ve missed us three kicking it.”

  “Me, too.”

  Thirty minutes later, Greer and I had scooped Trevia up, and I was pulling into a parking spot on the packed lot.

  “Damn! All these people at the tattoo shop?” Greer asked as she climbed out of the backseat of my SUV.

  “Or Ms. Jenny’s, because she got the air lit out here! I’ve got to get me a plate,” Trevia said as she hopped out of the passenger seat.

  “Yeah, you know we’ve got to stop by there. She’ll be glad to see y’all.”

  Greer and Trevia were still chattering away when we entered Elite Ink. The place was packed, which told me most of the cars on the lot belonged to the people crowding the tattoo shop which smelled strongly of cherry incense instead of paint, as it had on my first visit. My eyes perused the place as I searched for Hasaan. Every station was occupied with a customer in the chair and someone tattooing them except for the one that still held the notebook Hasaan had shown me, the one closest to the door. I assumed that station was his.

  “This is really nice!” Trevia gushed. “I don’t know what I expected, but not this.”

  I glanced down at the pristine white floor. “Yeah. The tattoo shops on TV and in the movies always look so skanky.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Greer agreed. “Hey, Trevia. Check out the artwork on the walls. I’ve got to have one of them.”

  “Oh, that artwork is bomb! Nyles would love one of those!”

  “You made it!”

  His voice made my stomach rumble. Damn, did he sound good. I spun around to see him standing directly behind me with a huge grin on his face. “You recognized me from behind?” I asked, giving him a grin of my own.

  A look of embarrassment shadowed his handsome face. “Yeah...well, it was the hair. Um...so, you brought some friends?”

  I nodded, and before I could finish introducing Trevia and Greer to him, they both started going on and on about the artwork, and before I knew it, had convinced him to sell both of them a piece.

  “Charge them a lot. They both have rich husbands,” I said.

  “Nyles isn’t rich!” Trevia protested. “Poets are starving artists as a rule.”

  I gave her a smirk. “Yeah, right.”

  “Wait, Nyles as in Nyles Adams? That poet?” Hasaan asked.

  Trevia smiled. “Yes, that’s my husband.”

  “I can’t charge you. I love his work! I saw him perform at Delta’s Place a couple of years ago. Great show. Pick whatever painting you want. For free.”

  “Okay!” Trevia nearly shouted.

  “And hey, tell your husband to come see me if he wants to get some ink. I’ll hook him up.”

  “I sure will,” Trevia responded.

  “I’m willing to pay. I love supporting artists,” Greer said.

  I looked up at Hasaan, and said, “See, I told you. Rich, rich as hell.”

  Hasaan shot me a grin before returning his attention to Greer. “Whatever you wanna give me is cool with me. Denise’s friends are my friends.”

  He stood next to me as Greer and Trevia went about the business of choosing their paintings. “Hey,” he said, “don’t you and your friends forget to get one of those raffle tickets from Lola before you go. One lucky person is gonna win a free tattoo. Might just be you.” He pointed to a petite woman with tattoos up and down both of her arms working on tattooing something on a huge man’s neck. She was at a station on the other side of the room.

  I shook my head. “Shit, I hope it’s not. I told you I’m allergic to pain...unless I’m inflicting it.”

  With raised brows, he asked, “You like causing pain?”

  “Only when necessary.”

  “I bet you can kick ass, too. I could see it at the bank that day. You wanted to slap the shit outta me, didn’t you?”

  I chuckled. “No...”

  “You’re lying. Because you had the same look in your eyes when I had to change your tire. I really pissed you off.”

  “Well, you were a bit of an asshole that day in my office. You have to admit that.”

  “Maybe...but that job wasn’t right for you and you know it. You were wasting your talents there.”

  “Talents?”

  “Yeah...all that knowledge you have, that degree I saw hanging on the wall in your office, that smile...”

  Was this fine motherfucker flirting with me? Because if he was—

  “H!” a voice called, interrupting our conversation.

  Hasaan looked past me with a frown that quickly morphed into a smile. “What you doing out here? You’re supposed to be working in the back.”

  “It’s called a break, man. Damn!” the voice replied.

  I spun around to see who he was talking to, and my eyes beheld a man the same height as Hasaan who could’ve passed for his lighter-skinned, less muscular twin—same strong nose, defined cheek bones, thick, kissable lips, and hooded eyes—but where Hasaan’s closely-cropped hair was thick and wavy, this man’s was fine and curly. Shit, there were two of them? Two?

  Damn!

  “Hey, Rafiq, this is Denise, the lady that helped me get the money for this place. Remember, I told you about her? Denise, this is my baby brother, Rafiq,” Hasaan said.

  Rafiq grinned down at me as we shook hands. “Pleased to meet you, Denise.”

  “Same here, and your brother is exaggerating. I didn’t do that much. I just shared some information with him.”

  “Yeah...you single?” Rafiq asked.

  My eyes widened. Damn, he was forward as hell.

  Before I could answer, Hasaan said, “Man, go somewhere with that. Stop tryna get with every woman who steps through the door.”

  “Damn, you a hater! How you gon’ play me like that?” Rafiq asked.

  “You’re playing your damn self, bro,” Hasaan advised.

  As Greer and Trevia approached us, Rafiq yelled, “Damn! Who are y’all?”

  “My friends,” I explained. “Greer Hill and Trevia Adams.”

  “And they’re both married,” Hasaan informed him.

  “And fine as hell! Y’all a bad crew!” Rafiq said.

  The three of us glanced at each other, and said, “Uh...thanks,” in unison.

  “Man, get back to work. You supposed to be organizing the stock room for me,” Hasaan said.

  “All right, all right. Nice to meet y’all,” Rafiq said before spinning around and disappearing through a door.

  Hasaan shook his head. “He’s supposed to be apprenticing under me. It’s truly a damn struggle.”

  I laughed. “He definitely makes an impression.”

  After Greer and Trevia got their paintings and we all got our raffle tickets, we headed next door for some of my crazy-ass mother’s good cooking.

  14

  “I’ll never find it,” I mumbled to myself as I stared at the pile of paper on my desk. What am I doing?

  Before I could answer myself, the door to my office flew open and my little brother breezed in with a grin on his fa
ce that quickly disappeared when he saw the raffle ticket stubs cluttering my desk. “Damn, H! I already called the winner like you asked. You don’t trust me to do shit, do you?”

  I sighed. “Rafiq, everything ain’t about you. I’m looking for something.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Looking for some chick’s number?”

  I frowned. “What?”

  “Shit, I was gonna do the same thing, but I couldn’t remember that short chick’s name. You know, the one with the huge ass and the little waist. The thick one who came in with her fine friends? You know who I’m talking about. Real pretty, thicker than a Snickers, kinda light-skinned but darker than me, had that long black hair, cute little nose, Kerry Washington lips, and—”

  “I know who you’re talking about...”

  “Why you sounding like that?”

  I sighed again. My brother worried the hell out of me on a daily basis. “Like what, Rafiq?”

  “Like I’m irritating you or—wait, you feeling little thick-ums or something?”

  “Her name is Denise.”

  “Aw, shit! You like her, huh? You gonna give up being a priest now?”

  “I ain’t no priest. I just don’t believe in screwing every woman I meet like you do.”

  He raised his hands. “I heard back in the day you was getting pussy left and right.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Shit, everybody! They said they used to call you ‘Hasaan the Don!’”

  “Yeah, well, I grew up. You should try it.”

  “There you go with that shit again. So anyway...she off limits, then?”

  I looked him in the eye. “Yeah.”

  “All right, I got you, but if she happens to see me out and approaches me or something since I’m the better-looking brother, I ain’t gonna reject her. You know light skin is in again.”

  “Man, that’s a grown woman you talking about. She ain’t gonna approach your childish ass.”

  “A’ight, we’ll see...”

  After he left, I continued my search. It took me another hour, but I found it. I smiled down at the raffle ticket stub, got up and locked my office door, and then fell back into my chair and dialed her number. It went straight to voicemail, so I left her a message. It had been a while since the opening, and if she had been to her mom’s place, I hadn’t seen her. And well, I missed her. It was crazy to think that because I didn’t really even know her, but there was something about Denise that I couldn’t shake. Yeah, she was fine as hell—little waist, curves in all the right places, an ass that damn near made me drool—but it was her personality, her fire, that made her stay on my mind. I couldn’t remember the last time I wanted a woman the way I wanted her. Damn, I needed to see her.