She slapped her blond friend's arm and they both pretended not to be interested in me. I kept catching one or the other glance over at me when they thought I wasn't looking.
When my future woman got up and headed towards the restroom, I took this as my opportunity. I caught up with her right before she reached the door of the restroom. I stepped in front of her, blocking her path and wearing my charming grin.
Her face would tell me everything I needed to know. If she seemed irritated, I didn't stand a chance. Instead, her lips pursed into a smile. She liked me. All I had to do was not saying anything stupid and I'd probably be able to get her number.
"Hi, I'm Channing. What's your name?"
"Kemara."
"Kemara." I tested the name on my lips, and I liked it. "That's a lovely name."
"Thank you. Channing isn't bad either."
She was so cute, I wanted to lean in and kiss her then and there, but that would definitely screw up any momentum I had. So, I only fantasized about her thick ruby lips against mine as I asked, "So, I was just thinking maybe we could hang some time. Think I could get your number?"
When she opened her purse, I thought she was looking for a pen, business card, even her cell, but instead she pulled out her lipstick. My arm was against the wall, because I had used it to block her path. She used her lipstick to write her number on my extended arm.
"I could have just put it in my cell." I pointed out.
"True. But this way you'll call me before your next shower." She stepped around me and dipped into the bathroom before I could say anything else.
I just stood there with my mouth hanging open. Phenomenal. I wanted to wrap her up in my arms more than I'd ever wanted any woman in my life, after her lipstick stunt, and I was determined to make it happen.
I paid my tab and headed out. When I got to my car, I saved her number in my phone in case it smudged on my arm. I'd gone through too much to get it to be taken down by a t-shirt.
I headed back to work. Me and two other guys, Tony and Dave, were laying the foundation for a house. I'd barely gotten out the car before Tony pointed to my arm. "How? You've been gone forty minutes. Do women climb over each other to give you pussy?"
I chuckled. My workers had decided I was some sort of Romeo, and I wasn’t inclined to correct them. While I won't lie, I got a lot of female attention. I was also incredibly picky, which meant I was getting a lot less pussy than they were imagining.
"We'd seen each other before, and I asked for her number. That's all. She didn't do me in the parking lot or anything like that," I said.
Dave jabbed Tony in the side as he walked past carrying a bucket of premixed cement. "Might not have ridden his dick at lunch, but I bet he'll have her on her hands and knees before midnight."
That time, I didn't smile. I didn't like the way they were talking about Kemara, even though they knew nothing about her. To them, she was just some hypothetical bimbo who wrote her number on my arm. If they'd met her, even for one second, they wouldn't talk about her that way. One of the very first things I noticed about her was how damn classy she was.
But the guys didn't know, and if I tried to explain they'd just chalk it up to me being pussy whipped. I just directed the conversation to our heavy load of work and soon enough, they'd forgotten all about The Lipstick Lady.
We worked for the rest of the day putting down the foundation for the site. By the time I got home, I was dirty and exhausted. I just wanted to hop in the shower and chill. Then, I remembered what she said. I looked at my arm and pulled out my cell.
Chapter Five
Kemara
When I got home from work, I threw my purse down on the plush sofa and checked my cell to see if I had a missing call. In the ten minutes it took me to drive home from work, no one had called me. I stretched and headed into the bedroom. Pulling off my dress suit and slipping into a nightgown felt great. I was so wound up. I needed to relax. I checked my phone again, noting only five minutes had passed since I last looked. What was wrong with me? I was like a girl in high school. I was far too old to be carrying on like this. If he called, he called, if he didn't, he didn't and that was the end of it.
To distract myself, I grabbed a book and curled up on the couch. I couldn't make it a sentence before my mind started to wander. He reminded me of a pro wrestler with memorable, gorgeous eyes and a strong jawline that gave way to a sexy grin. What did he do for a living? Judging from his soiled clothes, good-looking tan and the bulge of his biceps, he probably worked outside. Something with a lot of heavy lifting.
I bit my bottom lip and my legs crossed as I thought about him. What if he wasn't interested? What if he just wanted to see if he could get my number? I was a black girl, and he did hang out with some questionable white supremacy looking characters at a gas stop straight out of a 1960s movie about Alabama segregation.
I shook my head and tried to focus on my novel. Too many thoughts. I was always overthinking, and this was such a silly thing to worry about. I was several pages into the book before I realized I'd picked up a romance novel. I sighed as I read about a maiden with a heaving bosom in the hands of a pirate and tried not to picture Channing and me in those roles.
When the phone started to buzz, I leapt up off the couch. So determined to block the possibility of a call from my thoughts, I wasn't ready when it happened.
I took a deep breath and cleared my throat before answering, "Hello."
"Hey Kemara, it's me Channing." His voice was smooth and deep like liquid sex.
"Ya’ don't say."
He chuckled, and it was melodic. "So, what have you been up to tonight?"
"Not much, just reading. What about you?"
"Just thinking about you." He said it so sweet and casually, I couldn't help but blush.
"So, what were you thinking about me doing?" I regretted the question the moment it slipped past my lips. My tone didn't help either. My voice was high and flirty.
I opened the perfect seg-way into phone sex, when that wasn't what I meant to do at all. Even though the two times I’d been in his presence I wanted to lick him, I didn't want to turn our relationship sexual from the start. I wanted to give him a chance to get to know me, and I wanted to get to know him. That’s if we even took a chance at all.
"I was imagining you..." he left a long and taunting pause in the middle of his sentence, "having dinner with me this weekend."
I exhaled in relief. "Dinner? This weekend? Well, I'm busy this Sunday," I planned to go home and have dinner with my parents, "but I'm free Saturday."
"Saturday is good for me. Just text me your address."
With a date scheduled with this yummy man, I would be a wreck for the rest of the week. Not to mention, I needed to go shopping. I had no idea what I'd wear, especially since I didn't know where he was taking me. I didn't want to get too dressed up and seem high maintenance, but if I dressed down and he took me somewhere nice...see, the panic was already setting in.
"Kemara?"
Oh yeah, when people are talking to me on the phone, the sane thing to do is respond back. "Sorry, I'm still here."
"So, what area are you in? It must not be near here since I've only run into you those two times."
"Yeah, I only go to Lafayette to visit a friend from high school. We usually have lunch together a couple of times a month. I'm actually from--" The doorbell rang. "Hold on a minute, someone is at the door."
"I'll be waiting with bated breath."
What kind of idiot would be coming over this late? One of my biggest pet peeves was people showing up at my place unannounced. Whoever it was would be getting chewed out. I hit hold on my cell, so Channing wouldn't get a glimpse of my anger and think I was like that all the time.
My battle-resolve drained from me when I opened the door to find my sister on the stoop, her eyes red and puffy from crying.
I unmuted the phone. "I'm sorry Channing, I need to go. Family emergency." I didn't even hear his reply before hanging up. I r
ushed to my sister's side. "Tameka, are you okay? What happened?"
She sniffled. "The same thing that always happens. Rodney's dumb ass. Can I come in?"
I stepped back and let her in. "Of course. What did he do?" My voice got low. "Did that man lay his hands on you?" If he touched one hair on my baby sister's head, his life was forfeit. I didn't care if they threw me in prison, it'd be time well-served.
She shook her head wiping her nose on the back of her hand. "I told you, he'd never do that."
"So, why are you crying so hard?"
"We got into a huge fight in front of the kids. They were crying, begging to stay at the house, but he wouldn't let them. Since it's his weekend, I just had to stand there and watch him drive off with my babies as they cried. It broke my heart. Then, I was stuck in that big, empty house, feeling like crap, so I came over here."
I gestured for her to take a seat on the couch. "Do you want some tea?"
She nodded as she sat down on the couch, folding herself up into a little ball. When she divorced her husband, the custody battle was brutal. Even though the two of them couldn't agree on anything, the judge gave them joint custody, and if either of them refused to hand over the kids for any reason when it was the other parent's turn, they'd be arrested.
I never wanted to find myself in the nightmare my sister was in. It was so strange. Only six years earlier, I was at their wedding and they seemed so in love. Now, they hated each other just as deeply as they loved each other back then.
I handed her a cup of earl grey with extra sugar, just the way she liked it and took a seat on the couch next to her. "What did you two fight about?"
"I bought Kevin a baby doll. He kept stealing his sister's dolls and they were fighting over it all the time, so I got him one of his own, so he'd leave hers alone. He wanted to take it with him over to Rodney's. So, we ended up in this big fight. Rodney feels like I'm trying to make our son gay. I never encouraged him to play with dolls, but if he wants one, I don't see the issue. He's only five."
I didn't see the issue either. My nephew liked trucks and football too. Making such a big deal over one doll was probably traumatizing him. "Your ex is a damn fool."
"I know, but I just don't want to think about it anymore. Let's talk about something else. Like who is Channing?"
I swallowed. "What?"
"I heard you talking to him in that voice five octaves higher than your normal voice. Be careful, these black men act like fools nowadays."
I took another sip of my tea. "He's not black."
My sister's demeanor changed from playful to annoyed. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Please tell me, you are not fucking around with no white man."
I didn't know what to say. "You just said black men act like fools."
"Yeah, they do. But they’re our fools. When a white man dates a black woman you don’t know if it’s real or if he just wants to knock boots. You ain't got time for that. You're getting older, and you need to be looking for a serious relationship, a man that will marry you."
"You don't know anything about him other than his name. How can you say what he will and won't do?"
"Because I know men and I'm telling you, white men just use us. You’re too smart and too pretty to allow yourself to be used, Kemara. Didn’t Mama teach you anything!"
"Don’t go there with me, Tameka. What do you know about men? You're already divorced and your ex makes you miserable!"
Her neck snapped back as if I'd slapped her across the face. I would have given anything to take back my words. Her tone was low and flat, "We fight so much because we both love our kids. If that white man gives two shits about any black babies he makes with you, then count yourself damn lucky." I knew she was only spewing bitterness because of the sad state of her own marriage and divorce.
She sat her coffee cup on the table and got up off the couch.
"Where are you going?"
"Home," was all she said before walking out the front door, leaving me in unshakable doubt.
I sat there shaking my head. Tameka tended to get all dramatic when someone tried to point out her unperfect life to her, and yet she was never one to shy away from telling you like it was in your life. Like in this case with Channing. She wanted to put him down, knowing full well her own relationship, or lack of one, was in shambles. I wasn’t going to allow her the satisfaction of spoiling my mood. From what I knew, Channing was a good man and there was nothing Tameka could say to me that would leave me doubting that. I was still excited about our upcoming date.
Chapter Six
Channing
The most gorgeous woman I'd ever seen had just agreed to go out with me. There were no words to describe how excited I was, but my enthusiasm was soon deflated. Where was I going to take her? A classy chick like her wouldn't be down with warm beer and a few rounds of pool. Not to mention if I took her to the tavern on a weekend night, we'd definitely run into someone I knew and then depending on who it was the situation would either become bad or very bad.
I had to think outside of the box. Come up with a date that would truly sweep her off her feet, or our first date might be our last. I went to my computer and looked up the best restaurants within an hour of us. I found a Mexican place that looked good, but when I looked at the prices on the menu the blood drained from my face. Dinner, drinks and tip would cost me almost an entire week's pay.
I looked for something else, but I kept going back to the page for that restaurant. I really wanted to impress her. I'd been putting some money aside; it was time to spend it. Though I hoped taking her there wouldn't mean she'd expect to go to places like that every time. If she did, I wouldn't be able to afford it. But I wanted to make our first date special.
My cell buzzed with a text. I looked down and spotted my brother, Damon’s name.
Damon: Hey, Chan! Don’t forget about the meeting coming up. You better be there.
I read through the message and thought about it. How could I forget about the meeting? No matter how hard I tried, ever since I met Kemara, that damn meeting had been drilled into my mind. I put the phone down, giving it a few minutes, before shooting him a message back.
My great grandfather, Charles, was a high-ranking soldier in the Confederate Army. People that were under him respected him. He was someone that got the job done and everyone looked up to him, but living the life that he did, he had some ideas about the way the world should be and those ideals were passed down by him to his family. So, generation by generation, we were forced to believe the same as him.
My father passed down everything he learned from my great grandfather, just as Damon and I were told we needed to pass this down to our own children. That included his white pride and nationalism. They believed wholeheartedly in the Bible belt. They believed the South belonged to the whites and that once the first black president was elected, our rights were endangered.
That’s why Damon stayed on top of me about coming to the meetings. He wanted as much support as possible to hold steady our beliefs, or the beliefs they wanted us to have. Damon was one that stood by everything we’d been taught, and because the group believed that our rights were in jeopardy, there had been more and more meetings being put into place.
They wanted to head up some kind of takeover, where they could plan an overturning of the government and ultimately protect our second amendment rights and solidify our place as the true leaders of America. The problem that I faced was I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to believe those rights belonged solely to us…and us alone. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to attend the meetings, knowing how badly it could turn out if we kept down a path of superiority in a country where our majority was shrinking. Contrary to all that I was raised to believe, I had eyes and ears. I could see that the country was becoming a melting pot of races, cultures and religions. I was in a good place in my life and sometimes I just felt that maybe fighting for superiority wasn’t as important as my great grandfather, grandfather, and father, had always led me to beli
eve. When I heard another text message come through, I just assumed it was another message from Damon, to make sure I got the first one.
Instead, when I looked down, I discovered that Kemara’s name was on my phone. That brought a smile to my face and suddenly responding to Damon didn’t seem so important.
Kemara: Sorry about that. My sister needed me, but she's fine now. Here's my address...
The fact that family meant so much to her was yet another reason I sensed Kemara was everything I’d been waiting for in a woman. I typed back my reply, after jotting down her address, just in case it got lost through our mountains of texts.
Me: Thanks. I can't wait for our date. And you're such a sweetheart, the way you look after your sister.
Kemara: You just keep thinking that, stud.
I laughed. It was cute how she called me a stud, and it had me anxious to see her again and see her cute smile quirk up at the edges. Then thinking about her sexy lips on mine had me forgetting that I was in the middle of a text message.
Me: So you think I'm a stud? Huh?
Kemara: Shoosh, unless you want to get hammered.
I chuckled, already trying to come up with a good comeback, when my phone buzzed again.
Kemara: Can we please keep pretending half the stuff I say isn't a bad innuendo?
God, she was adorable. No woman had ever made me smile the way she did.
Me: Sure can.
The back and forth between Kemara and myself went on for another hour after that, until we both admitted that we needed to get some sleep, so we could get up and get ready for work the next day.
However, on my end…I wanted nothing more than to talk with her for another hour or two. I wanted to talk to her all night if she could sustain that, but lying in bed that night, I had a moment in silence where I could just think about her and that satisfied my needs for a little while.
Going through the rest of the week was something that wasn’t all that easy. We talked on the phone several times during the week and we texted one another every day. Finally, Saturday came around and it was time to pick her up. I wasn’t nervous to get on with this date, because in the past week of communicating as much as we could, she put me at ease. Kemara was a sweetheart, and I was lucky she agreed to go out with me.
Dangerous Bonds Page 2
