by Dyanne Davis
“Too much for you to answer in one night. I have a proposition for you. I need a tutor and I can pay well. Would you be willing to teach me your culture? Perhaps I could even teach you about mine.”
“I didn’t ask to learn about yours.”
“Do you know about my culture?”
“Why should I?”
Hamid stared at Heaven. “I didn’t know Americans chose to be ignorant. I thought it was an accident.”
Oh no, he didn’t just call me ignorant. “I know we might have a language barrier, Hamid, but you just insulted me. Was that your intent?”
“Is the truth considered an insult in America?”
Not again. Heaven walked away from Hamid and toward the driver’s side of her truck. This conversation was over.
“Will you teach me?” Hamid asked, following behind her.
She thought it over for a second. If she didn’t, someone was going to kick his ass for the way he went about things.
“How long have you been in this country?” Heaven asked without giving him a direct answer.
“Long enough to know women can repair cars and that you get insulted easily and that you have no knowledge of how what you eat can kill you. Either that or you’re deliberately trying to commit suicide.”
Heaven climbed in her truck wondering if she should just do Hamid a favor and smack him in the head with the door of her truck, leave him senseless. Perhaps when he woke he would have gained some knowledge.
“Will you help me?” he asked again.
She turned the key in the ignition, snatched the door from his hand and hit the lock. But Heaven couldn’t drive away because Hamid stood in the path of her truck. So she stayed as she was, because Hamid stayed as he was. “I’ll call you,” she said at last. His eyes took on that mischievous look again and he did not move. He didn’t believe her and that was a good thing, because she’d been lying.
Heaven tried again. “Okay, seriously, I’ll call you.”
“Why can’t you give me your number and let me call you?”
So Hamid isn’t as dumb as I first thought. “I don’t have any cards,” she answered.
“And you don’t know your number?” His lips turned up in a smile. “Where are you going now, Heaven?”
“To a club, my friends are waiting for me.”
“Mind if Sassa and I come?”
“This is a dance club.”
“I dance.”
“This is a blues club.”
“I like blues.”
“It’s a mostly black club.”
“Would I not be welcomed there?”
“There’s a lot of smoking and drinking that goes on there.”
“Would I be required to smoke and drink in order to go inside?” He looked innocently at her. “Do you smoke and drink? A person with the name of Heaven? Surely not.”
Heaven rolled her eyes. This was nonsense. It was harder explaining to him than keeping him out. “Just follow me,” she said. When she saw he still didn’t trust her, she smiled in spite of her annoyance. “I will not leave until you and Sassa get in your car. I give you my word.”
And she kept it, but the moment he was in his car Heaven took off as fast as the law allowed, hoping she’d lose him, but not surprised when she didn’t.
When they reached the club, Heaven parked and waited for Hamid to pull into the spot beside her. He grinned at her as he walked next to her. Sassa followed behind them, muttering the entire time.
“You attempted to lose me,” Hamid said.
“But I didn’t.”
“I’m a very good driver.”
“I see,” Heaven answered and pointed to the club across the street. “Ready?”
He took her arm and walked her across the street. She started to tell him she didn’t need his assistance to cross the street but didn’t. Nor did she speak again until they were inside the club and Hamid was bringing out his wallet.
“I’ll pay,” she said, taking out her own wallet.
“Why?”
“Because this isn’t a date.”
“I thought we were going to be friends. Can’t I treat a friend?”
Heaven stared at Hamid for a moment and was almost undone by the intensity in his dark eyes. “I’ll tell you what,” she compromised. “You pay for yourself and Sassa and I’ll pay for myself. This way there is no obligation on either of our parts.”
“Are you worried that I will expect something for ten dollars?”
“You’re a man,” Heaven answered and held out her hand to get it stamped. She looked around, spotted her friends and walked toward them without asking Hamid or Sassa to follow, but knowing they would. She ignored the looks cast her way by her friends and pulled two more chairs from the table next to them for Hamid and Sassa, then sat.
Hamid was eyeing her strangely and her conscience pricked her. She’d brought them; it was up to her to make sure they were comfortable, or as comfortable as they could be if they didn’t know anything about the blues. Well, Hamid couldn’t blame her; he’d said that he did, and apparently, he must have thought Sassa understood the blues. She wouldn’t worry about Hamid’s cousin. It was Hamid who’d brought him.
“Hamid wanted to come.” She pointed toward each of her friends and introduced them. “Hamid wanted to learn some American culture.” She looked toward Sassa. “His cousin Sassa, I think, is just along for the ride.”
Her friends started laughing. “I’m serious,” Heaven said, raising her voice to be heard over the music. “He’s going to pay me to tutor him.”
“In what exactly?” Ongela made it sound dirty. She looked at Hamid as though he were a tasty treat.
“Like I said, the culture. We haven’t worked out the details.” Heaven would have blushed if she could. She knew what this sounded like, and if one of them had just announced something so preposterous, she would have laughed.
“Look, we’re not dating,” she announced harshly. “Hamid understands that I date only black men.”
The music had stopped and Heaven’s voice carried across the room. She glanced in Hamid’s direction. If his feelings were hurt, his eyes, as black as midnight, hid it. She’d not intended that; she was only shouting to be heard over the music.
“Of course, Heaven has failed to mention that I have not asked her for a date and I have no intention of it. My only interest in her is as a teacher. Heaven is not my type.” Hamid held Heaven’s gaze, “as I am not hers,” he continued, putting her in her place.
Neither would drop their gaze. Heaven scowled, trying to look as ferocious as she could. She knew the look on her face. Brandon had told her often enough when she’d done it that she looked evil. Right now, she wanted Hamid to feel the same way, but he wouldn’t budge and neither would she.
“Dang, would you two cut it out?” Peaches interrupted. “Hamid, can you dance?” she said, pulling his sleeve to make him move.
Heaven continued glaring at Hamid, noticing that even as he went to the dance floor he positioned himself to return her glare. Only he wasn’t glaring. He was looking at her with confusion and amusement. A second or two passed and Latanya had Sassa out on the dance floor.
“Heaven, why are you staring at that man like that?” Ongela whispered in her ear, teasing her. “Have you tired of Bob?” she asked, laughing softly.
“I’m staring at him because he’s staring at me.”
“Do you think if you stopped staring at him he might stop staring at you?”
Heaven rolled her eyes and finally looked away from Hamid to glare at Ongela. “He’s weird and someone needs to put him in his place. He let the air out of my tire so he could put it back in.”
Ongela laughed, “Did you let him, or did you do it yourself?”
“What do you think?”
“Are you really planning on hanging out with him to teach him?”
“Of course. I’ve always wanted to be a teacher, and I can’t think of anybody who needs to learn a few things more than H
amid does.”
Ongela looked toward the dance floor at Hamid, who was still staring at Heaven. “I get it,” she said. “You want to teach him a lesson.”
“You got it, a lesson he will never forget. When I’m done with Hamid he’ll run screaming back to Pakistan.” The women clapped hands and laughed.
Then Ongela said in a more serious tone, “Just be careful that he doesn’t teach you a lesson. He’s good looking, and he’s intelligent and funny.”
Ongela glanced again toward the dance floor. “He has moves, I’ll give him that. I think you may have met your match. He can take it as well as dish it out. You should have seen your face when he said he didn’t want to date you. I wish I’d had a camera.”
* * *
Heaven spent most of the evening watching her friends flirt with Hamid or dance with him. She wondered what had happened to their pact to nourish and protect the brothers. She glanced quickly toward Ongela as the high-pitched sound of her laughter carried over the strains of the blues. She’d undoubtedly hit it off with Hamid.
Why not? Heaven thought. He was tall, dark, and handsome to the max, and his silky looking beard gave him a certain something. One more look and Heaven closed her eyes. Damn Brandon anyway. They should have been married by now. If so, she wouldn’t have to keep looking away from Hamid every time their eyes met.
* * *
With no luck, Hamid kept trying to keep his eyes from drifting in Heaven’s direction. Fate, he thought again, and smiled at one of Heaven’s friends. The women were flirting with him, and while they were attractive, he didn’t desire them. He must be a glutton for punishment for preferring the tiny woman whose words were as deadly as snake venom, but he did.
When he’d held her arm to cross the street, he’d felt an electrical surge that had gone from the crown of his head to his groin. This sensation was what Hamid had been searching for his entire adult life. But fate or not, he would not pursue a woman who’d made it plain she considered him incompetent in more ways than just his lack of mechanical knowledge.
Hamid thought of their agreement for her to teach him about American culture. He had a surprise for her. When he was done teaching her, they’d both see just how competent he really was. Even if he didn’t pursue her, he wanted her respect.
Chapter Five
Heaven stared in the mirror, trying hard not to picture Hamid in her mind, the way he’d been in her dreams. Suddenly she had an urge to see his hair loosed from the rubber band. It was jet black and curly. His beard was well groomed and trimmed in the same style that many black men wore.
Try as she might to shake his image from her mind, Hamid’s face refused to return to the mist that shrouded her dream. His aura was too potent. Asleep or awake, Hamid’s face invaded her thoughts. She knew without a doubt that he would definitely make her friends forget their pact. There was something about him, a gentlemanly quality to go along with his arrogant and somewhat chauvinistic attitude.
His eyes…She hadn’t decided if they were a cocoa brown or black; they seemed to shift color. Heaven had no intention to admit it to anyone, but the way his eyes fastened on her as if he could pierce the way to her soul with but a glance had her backing even farther away.
Her friends were right. It had been way too long since she’d had anyone she cared for in her life. She didn’t intend to do anything stupid with Hamid simply because he was now in her line of vision. Her pact still stood, whether the others honored it or not. The ringing of her bell startled her out of her reverie. Showtime, she thought and headed for the door.
“Hi,” she said to Hamid’s grinning face, “what do you want to start on first?”
“I’d like to see your apartment.”
“That’s not what you’re paying me for.”
Hamid shrugged his shoulders.
“Why do you need to see my apartment?” Heaven asked suspiciously.
“I don’t need to see it, I want to see it.”
Heaven hesitated; she still didn’t really know anything about this man. She peered up at him, his size not intimidating her. She was a brown belt; she could kick his butt easily. “Come on,” she said over her shoulder, determined to not let his charm or sex appeal get to her. God, but he did look good.
It was the shortest tour of her apartment in history. Heaven barely paused as she led him through the various rooms and headed back to the living room.
“You’ve seen my apartment. Now do you want to get started?”
“Do you own this apartment?” Hamid asked.
“You’re awfully nosy.”
“It was just a question. Are you embarrassed by it?”
“Yes, I own this apartment. Now if you’ve finished interviewing me, suppose you tell me exactly what you want to learn about American culture.” She tilted her head and slanted her eyes. “Or is it African-American culture you’re interested in?”
“Are you not American?”
“Yes, of course I am,” Heaven stumbled.
“Then why do you qualify yourself as African-American instead of just plain American? In my country we refer to you all as Americans.”
Heaven shrugged her shoulder, wondering herself. “Hamid, to be honest with you, I have no idea.”
“Do you just do as others do without having a good reason?”
For a moment she wondered if he were being sarcastic, then saw from the curious look on his face that he really didn’t understand. Well, join the club, she thought, neither do I.
“Hamid, you’ve been in this country long enough to know that everyone is separated into groups: American Indians, Italian Americans, Mexican Americans, Polish Americans, Iranian Americans.” She shrugged her shoulders again. “See what I mean?”
“I see, but it is a lot of trouble.”
“I know in Pakistan and other parts of the Middle East there are different sects, so why are you judging what we do?”
“Now you speak as though you’re a part of all the groups. Did I just offend you or your entire country?”
For a moment, Heaven didn’t answer. Then she twisted her mouth to the side and decided to ignore Hamid’s question for now. “Hamid, what is it you want to know?”
“I want to know what you call yourself so that I won’t make any mistakes with you.”
“You mean you want to be politically correct?” She gave him a look, then shook her head and shrugged. “We’ve been colored, Negro, black, and now African-American. Personally, I prefer black. As for being politically correct, I’ve had other black people correct me if I didn’t say African-American.”
“So what do you want me to call you?”
“Call me Heaven, that’s my name.”
He smiled and Heaven felt pulled by the brilliance of it. She had to get back on an even keel. “Do you want to discuss books, music, food or,” she grinned, “how to repair a car?” That lightened the moment. Hamid returned her grin.
“I think I know a bit about car repair,” he responded, “and I know something about your taste in music.”
Heaven opened her mouth to object but Hamid held her gaze and continued.
“Based on the fact that you attended a blues club, I find it safe to say you like the blues. Is that a fair statement?”
Heaven blinked. She looked at the way his dark lashes fell over his eyes even when they were open. She was held captive by the intensity of his gaze framed by his black curly hair. She wanted to ask…she had to know. “Hamid, are there any African-Americans living in Pakistan?” The words were out before she could think.
“There are Africans living in my country and there are Americans. Whether they are African Americans?” He shrugged his shoulders. “How long have you been a nurse?” he asked, picking up a photograph of her and Brandon from the table.
Heaven leaned over and took the picture from him. “Seven years,” she answered.
“Is he a nurse?”
“No.”
“A doctor?”
Heaven sighed, “
Yes.”
“You have feelings for him?”
Again Heaven sighed, but this time she also rolled her eyes. “You could say that.” She shot daggers at the picture and only stopped when Hamid laughed.
“I see, you don’t like him anymore.”
“Hamid, what does my personal life have to do with teaching you?” She watched as he shifted on the couch and shrugged. She shook her head, feeling heat from his nearness. She tossed the picture into the chair on the opposite side of the room.
“Look, Hamid, I’m charging you by the hour so I would suggest you pick a subject.” For a long, intense moment, he stared at her before speaking. Heaven watched the way his lips opened slightly. He closed his eyes and was smiling when he reopened them.
“I want to know the difference you find between Middle Eastern men and black men.”
“Are you paying for this question?”
Hamid glanced at his watch. “Of course.”
“Well, number one, I can’t imagine a brother paying anyone to answer that question.” She smiled when she caught the slight flaring of Hamid’s nose.
“Muslim men believe all men are brothers.”
“Are you teaching this class or am I?” Heaven asked.
“I was only making an observation and trying to educate you at the same time.”
“I didn’t ask to be educated.”
“As you wish.” He shrugged carelessly.
“For another thing, the brothers eat pork.” Heaven smiled at Hamid, but when he didn’t return the smile she looked away and, for the life of her, couldn’t think of another thing to say.
“Are you saying the only difference in the men of my country and yours is what they eat?”
“Of course not, don’t be” Heaven stopped herself. She’d decided if she were going to teach Hamid, she would not be rude.
“What were you going to say?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Are you certain?”
“Hamid, you’re annoying.” Heaven turned back to him. “Don’t get me wrong. There is something about you that is different and appealing, but the way you turn everything I say into a question really gets on my nerves.”
“And you would prefer I didn’t do it?”
