“Not really. Most of the guys who’ve contacted me are not black.”
“Have you contacted any men yourself?”
“What? Of course not!”
“Well, if they don’t contact you, you need to contact them.”
“Girl, please. You know that’s not me.”
“Well at least women aren’t contacting you,” laughed Kendra.
“Um, that’s not funny. I’ve had a few sign my guestbook.”
The laughter in Kendra’s voice quieted. “See, that’s what I’m talking about. How are we ever supposed to survive if the men won’t date us, but the women will?”
“Kendra, it’s not that bad. There are a lot of good men out there...if you’re patient enough to find one.”
“What do you mean? Of course it is. All you have to do is read any of the books today. You’ve got down low brothers, brothers in jail, gay brothers, and its beginning to affect the women. Either you’re by yourself, with someone of another race, or dating another woman.”
“Yeah, I read some articles in Ebony and Essence about college girls choosing to date other women instead of dating outside of the race. Don’t you think that’s extreme?”
“Of course, but what are we supposed to do as black women.”
“You act like there are no good black men.”
“Have you found one in Harrisburg?”
It wasn’t really a fair question. The only guy she’d really noticed was Chance, and he wasn’t black. Irish. “I haven’t really been looking. That is…unless you count laughing at, and then deleting the messages from guys on Blackpeoplemeet.com. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many shirtless men in showers outside of Playgirl.” Sinclair laughed at her own words. “I don’t have time for the whole dating thing, but speaking of dates; did I tell you I ran into that guy who asked me out a few weeks ago in a club?”
“Which one?”
“The one that worked for the Mayor’s office.”
“Oh, yeah, the chocolate hottie.”
“He was with his girlfriend. A white girl. He didn’t even speak. He just kind of stood there with this stupid look on his face.”
“What! He had some nerve. I hope you told him you wouldn’t be second to anybody...white, black or anything in between.”
“What for? He’d asked me out, but that was it. He’s her problem, not mine. I left the club; went home, and popped in a DVD.”
“You’re getting soft down there. I’m going to have to grab our girl, and we’re coming to Harrisburg.”
Oh no. “That’s all I need.”
“What? You think we won’t fit in Harrisburg? You’re the one with the dreadlocks, baby,” joked Kendra.
Sinclair tugged at the tip of one of her locs. “Yeah, but they’re blonde,” she uttered through broken laughter.
“So, what’s up with Colin Farrell?”
Aside from his ocean blue eyes, Chance looked remarkably like a six-foot two inch Colin Farrell. SEXY. Several nights her sleep had been cut short by dreams of Chance followed by cold showers or warm bubble baths, a glass of wine, and daydreams.
But her father’s mantra sounded in her mind. “If he can’t use your comb...don’t bring him home.” How would her family react if she decided to date Chance O’Malley?
“What do you mean what’s up with Colin Farrell?”
“You’ve been there almost six months. A woman has needs, and yours haven’t been taken care of in a while.”
“You know for a Black Panther wannabe why are you trying to put me with Chance?”
“Like I said needs, baby, needs.” Laughter rang out from the other end of the phone.
Whatever. “Girl, I’m not like you. I can control myself.” Sinclair grabbed the edge of the bed comforter, and covered her feet.
She could picture Kendra’s smile as she said, “Hey, I can’t help it if I have a healthy sexual appetite.”
Sinclair could barely control her laughter. “Healthy.”
Kendra disregarded her laughter. “Anyway as I was saying...Colin Farrell might be fun.”
“His name is Chance.”
“Hmm...protective...okay, okay Chance might be fun.”
“He’s the only person I know here who can look me in the eye and have a conversation longer than five minutes about something other than work. That’s all I’d need is to start up something with him. Could you imagine the rumors?”
“True, true. And then you wouldn’t have any reason to stay. Although when I think about it like that I don’t see the downside. You should’ve moved here to New York or even DC.”
“And how was I going to finish my last year of grad school. This job will count for the credits I need to fulfill the requirements for my Masters in Business Administration. Since Mom and Dad spent everything from the store on me and Grandma before she passed away...this program is my only chance to finish my degree without loans.”
“With your first degree, and scholarships you could’ve done something.”
“Maybe, but it took me a while to find this program. I won’t have any debt when it’s over. I can go back to Georgia take over my parents’ restaurant and get things together. They can’t keep going at the pace they’re going. They should be retired by now. They take care of everyone, but themselves.”
“I know. I know. When will it be your turn?”
“By the end of year, I’ll have my degree, a bonus check big enough to choke a cow, and I’ll be back in Georgia. When I’m there I can think about the next step.”
“But in the meantime, what are you going to do for fun in PA?”
“Not sure, yet. But I’m getting a little tired. I need to crash if I’m going to be ready for tomorrow. I’ve got a week of nothing but meetings ahead of me. Tomorrow my first meeting’s at 8:00 a.m.”
“God girl. That’s why I love my life. I work on my designs when I want to.”
“Well, we can’t all design jewelry and live in SoHo. New York. But, I’ll give you a call when I get back to Pennsylvania.”
“Peace, girl.”
“Bye.”
Chance checked his wristwatch again and thought twice about knocking on the door. It was 8:30 p.m., not too late, and they were in Vegas. Who’d be sleeping so early their first night in Vegas? The muffled voice on the other side of the door said, “Coming.”
He took all of her in at once. The puffy oversized robe she wore matched her slippers. Her locs were tied by a piece of white fabric into an intricate design resting on the top of her head. What did she do go straight from the plane to her bed?
“Chance.” Her eyebrows pinched together behind her glasses.
“I woke you. I wasn’t trying to wake you. Honestly, it’s Vegas, Sinclair. Were you really sleeping? I thought you might want to go for a walk on the strip or something.”
“I’m sorry. I was so tired, and my plane ride was awful. Maybe tomorrow.” Slowly, she began to close the door.
Slight pressure against the door stopped it from closing. “Hey, the only good thing about having to come here was that you’d be here. I thought we could hang out.” He threw up three fingers, and held down his pinky with his thumb. The best version of the Boy Scout’s Honor he knew. How many times had he practiced that gesture, and salute with his father? “I won’t keep you out long. I promise.” The longer he stood there with that salute, the more he remembered. Part of the meaning behind that gesture: to help others at all times was why he didn’t have a father.
“Chance.”
Sinclair stood silently.
His hand fell to his side. “I’ll bring you back before midnight, Cinderella.”
Sinclair sighed in defeat as she turned back into the interior of the room. “Okay, just give me a minute to put something on. Come on in.”
Chance couldn’t stop himself from wondering what she was wearing underneath the robe. Whatever it was he couldn’t see any of it. The cotton robe touched her bronzed skin everywhere his eyes could see.
He
followed her inside. “No problem.”
Sinclair pointed to a brass settee upholstered with mahogany colored velvet. “Have a seat, I’ll be back.” She vanished into the bathroom after grabbing a small bag.
Chance dropped into the settee; his mind was racing. He didn’t know what he should do next. For him, coming to Vegas had one purpose, but he knew how to read caution signs, and Sinclair had flashing yellow signs all around her.
Time spent with Sinclair, away from work, might get her to loosen up. The key would be to avoid Raquel. He swore the woman had him low-jacked. He could barely make a move without her showing up.
Sinclair emerged from the bathroom. “I’m ready.”
Golden dreadlocks crinkled into big twists cascaded down around her shoulders. Although not revealing, her tangerine blouse hugged her full bosom then lay over the top of the waistband of her jeans. Jeans that hugged the curves of her hips and thighs. DAMN. Immediately, his body reacted to hers. It took him a moment to rise from the chair.
“I’m ready,” repeated Sinclair.
“Okay, so what do you want to do first? Casino downstairs or maybe walk under the lights on Fremont?”
Her eyes twinkled as she spoke. “Lights.”
“Okay, lights it is. Let’s go grab a taxi.”
The cab ride to Fremont Street was the longest ride of his life. With her eyes closed, she rested her head on his shoulder the entire trip. Each rub of her cheek against his shoulder matched the caress of her breasts against his arm as she found the right spot to doze. Touch after touch increased his ache. His need and desire. His khaki pants pulled tighter against his body with each stroke. Before the taxi dropped them at their destination, he hoped he’d regain control. When the taxi pulled up to the curb, he grew anxious, but he had to wake her in order to reach his wallet. After quickly counting to ten, he opened the door and they hopped out.
“Sinclair you seem really tired. Maybe we should head back.”
“No, I’ll be fine,” she yawned and stretched.
Chance draped his arm around her and they walked. “Okay, Cinderella, we’ll have you home before midnight.”
“So, if I’m Cinderella, are you my Prince Charming?”
“Maybe not Prince Charming, but the Frog Prince.”
“Hmm. Frog Prince. So, I have to kiss you to break the curse?”
Chance stopped; backed Sinclair up against a brick wall, and paused. He wanted to kiss her. For about six months, he’d wanted it. “You have to kiss me to break the spell. That’s true.”
Her breathing sped up to match his. “What spell?”
He couldn’t play the game any longer. “Sinclair, will you stop me?”
“Stop you…Chance, I—” Her words stopped.
Chance’s hands explored Sinclair’s body. Slowly, he dragged them up and down her butt, thighs, and back. He placed his hands on either side of her head, and he intertwined his fingers in her locs. “Sinclair. Yes or no.”
“Ye—”
Chance didn’t wait for her to finish. Her mouth opened to his. The warmth of her tongue increased his desire. This time, he didn’t count to ten or hide it. He pressed his body into hers, and hers into the stone behind her. Petite hands pressed into his back. The pull of her arms held his body in place.
“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” said a male voice passing by.
Chance realized where they were, and he pulled away. “Sinclair let’s go back.”
“Huh.” Her eyes were as wide as saucers.
“When we get there, if you want me to leave it’s okay.”
The same taxi driver dropped them back at their hotel.
Chance held Sinclair against his side on the elevator ride up. He held her hand as they walked down the hallway. He didn’t let her go until they were inside her room, and then only to lock the door, and put her back against it.
Their two clothed bodies stumbled from the door past the two metal settees toward the bed where they fell.
“Chance.” Sinclair’s voice hinted at a question. “Chance.”
Chance’s mind was foggy, but he heard her. “Yes.” His hand cupped her breast.
Sinclair’s hand rested softly on top of his. “Not tonight. I mean…we shouldn’t.”
He sat up, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His elbows rested on his thighs, and his hands covered his face. For a moment, he sat in silence. Then, he asked, “Did I do something? I can tell you want me, too.”
Sinclair rose, and positioned her body next to his. She lowered his hands from his face, and held them in hers. “No. What would I do without you at work? I don’t want anything to change between us.” She released his hands, and rubbed her palms up and down her thighs. “This would change things.” Her voice was not steady.
He didn’t want to stop. He wanted to be inside of her, but he needed to think about her words, and about what she wanted. What he wanted.
“Sinclair, whatever you want is what I’ll do. I want you, but if you don’t want me or know what you want then I should leave.” He stood, and straightened his jostled clothing. Part of him protested his attempt to leave. No matter how much he tugged at his pants, he couldn’t hide his desire.
Sinclair jumped from the bed behind him. “No, Chance, I just want you as a friend.”
“Oh, okay, friends only.” He took a step back, and began to turn. “I thought you were attracted to me, too. I wasn’t by myself on the bed.”
She grabbed his arm with one hand, and stared into his eyes. “No, I mean. I want you in both ways. But we can’t hide this at work. Somebody could’ve seen us on Fremont or walking in here tonight.”
“So what?” He knew work was a caution flag with Sinclair, but he thought Vegas might change some things. “Sinclair, it’s just the two of us in here. I’m not going to run back to Carni’s bragging about what we do here tonight.” He felt like she didn’t know him. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course I trust you. But, I’m not stupid. I see the way people act around me. I walk into a room, and people start whispering. Why? People in my department asking around about my salary, and how’d I get my job. I don’t want or need more grief at work.”
He stared into her watery eyes. As he stepped back, her grip tightened on his arm. The hurt reflected on her face tore at his gut, but he was upset, too. “I get it. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be careful leaving, and you don’t have to worry about bumping into me while we are here or anything.” The door, a mile away, beckoned his exit. When did they even go into the bedroom?
“Are you going to just walk out?”
The distance between the door and the bedroom faded as he answered. “I understand what you are saying. Right now, I’m just not in the best position to talk about all of this. It’s probably best if I leave. We can talk later.”
The door clicked softly behind him.
The elevator door chimed, but before he hit the button for his floor, Raquel jumped onto the elevator. “So, where are you headed?”
“Raquel, go to your room. I’m not in the mood tonight.”
“Not in the mood.” She dragged her skirt up over her thighs.
“Find yourself another sucker tonight.”
Emerald eyes blazed at him. “Why did you come to Vegas, if it wasn’t to be with me? Why do you think daddy invited you?”
“I don’t know why he invited me, but maybe I should leave.”
“No.” She grabbed his arm.
The elevator jerked to a halt, and the doors opened.
“Raquel go to your daddy, that’s a man you can handle.”
Chance dragged himself down the hallway. He was going to bed alone, but for once, it wasn’t because he wanted it.
Chapter Two
Sinclair swung the door open, and ran after Chance. What was she thinking? An invisible wall smacked her in the face when she turned the corner. Raquel slinked into the elevator behind Chance.
Raquel would not make the same mistake she had.
A warbled image that looked like her stared at Sinclair from the mirror behind the hotel bar. Two whole days, forty-eight hours, two thousand eight-hundred and eighty minutes had passed since she’d spoken to Chance. What had he and Raquel been doing with all of that time? The only reason she knew he was still in town was because he’d attended a few sessions with her, but he always showed up late; sat far from her, and left before she could get out of her seat. He gave her exactly what she wanted. Just work.
She was so used to seeing him every day that she couldn’t stand him ignoring her. Using her straw as a stirrer, she blended the white pina colada and strawberry daiquiri halves of her drink together. In that moment, she decided the next time she saw him, she’d tell him he was acting like a child. Or punch him. She sucked on the straw until she got brain freeze. How many drinks did she have anyway? It didn’t matter.
“Sinclair.”
She didn’t turn to face Chance. His reflection in the mirror muddled by bottles of gin, vodka, and tequila was enough. “What?”
“Can I join you?”
“Why? Are you through ignoring me?”
“Can we go somewhere and talk?”
“No.” She spun around on her stool to face him. “If you want to talk, we can do it here.” Maybe the rum in her drink was doing the talking.
He reached for her glass. “What are you drinking? How many have you had?” He pushed it away, and signaled the bartender.
Grabbing for her drink, she asked, “What are you doing?”
“I think we should talk, but I don’t want you drunk.”
The bartender interrupted. “What can I get you?”
“Nothing, but can I get her bill. We’d like to close out.”
Sinclair wanted to protest, but she didn’t. Why? Because this was what she wanted.
The bartender returned with the bill. Chance paid, and they walked out. He placed his hand in the small of her back to steady her as he guided her toward the elevators.
“Where are we going?”
“Your room.”
“What?” her body stiffened.
“We can sit on the balcony, and talk.”
Love's Chance Page 2
