One Night: A BWWM Interracial Romance

by Camilla Stevens

  “What do you take me for? There’s no girl, my ass,” she finished.

  Jake laughed into the phone. “Okay, you got me,” he confessed, leaning back into his chair and looking out at the lake. “But honestly, it was nothing special. I mean it wasn’t not nothing special, it was nice. It’s just, I don’t know her. She was just visiting here and now she’s gone and—”

  “And she’s got you all tongue tied,” Martha said, knowingly. “I just hope this book isn’t as scrambled as she’s got your head.”

  “No,” he said, “the book is perfect.”

  “Mmm, that confident, huh?” she said. He could hear the smile in her voice. “So what’s she like, this girl?”

  Jake paused, thinking about last night. “Nice.”

  “Nice?” she asked. “Nice? That’s all I get? Nice?”

  “Well, it was short lived,” he responded.

  “Short lived enough to change an entire series,” she replied. “I’d say that’s something more than nice.”

  “Well, read the draft,” he said, changing the subject. “The character is all her.”

  “Now you’ve got me really curious. About the girl, not the book.”

  “As usual, you get first dibs,” he said, changing the subject. “I’ll send it to you as soon as we hang up. You can deal with Wright.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she conceded. “Any chance you’ll see this girl again?”

  “You don’t give up, do you?” he smiled into the phone. “Sorry, Martha. All I’ve got is a name and occupation. Librarian, if you can believe that.”

  “Cute,” she said “Did you tell her who you are, or did you keep up the whole anonymous schtick?”

  “I gave her my real name. She has no clue who I am,” he said.

  “So she says,” she respond. “One day we’re going to get that gorgeous face of yours on the cover. Sales will go through the roof, mostly to lonely housewives.”

  “Never happening, Martha,” Jake said.

  “That’s my commission your playing with there, sonny,” she said teasingly.

  “Based on the last book, I don’t see what you’re complaining about,” he replied. “I think this one is going to be the best yet….even if she did break my ritual.”

  “No!” Martha said with surprise. “Now you’ve got me worried. If this book tanks, I’m blaming that meddling cock of yours.”

  “If this book takes off, I’ve got a far more enjoyable ritual to practice,” he said in response.

  That actually got a laugh out of her. “I guess then we’d have to find her.”

  “I guess we would,” he said, looking out at the lake. “I guess we would.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  TWO MONTHS LATER

  NATALIE

  Natalie looked at the menu in front of her, debating what to order.

  She was on yet another first date on a Saturday night. Her preference would have been Netflix with chips and homemade salsa. Thanks to Malcolm, she was “out there” again. At 28 years old she couldn’t afford to veg out in front of her laptop and stuff her face.

  It didn’t help that she had spent the morning with Denise and Mia helping the former pick out a wedding dress. Sitting there for hours while Denise walked out in dress after dress of white lace and satin. The strapless or the long-sleeved? The sweetheart neckline or the Queen Ann? It was exciting…and overwhelmingly depressing at the same time. Obviously she was thrilled to participate in her friend’s Big Day, but it only served to point out the complete and utter mess that was her own love life.

  She thought of Malcolm. She promised herself she wouldn’t while she was on a date, worried that her bitterness might come across to the man sitting across from her. Just this morning she had found a pen with the logo of the company he worked at. It was a small thing, but it stung. She had immediately thrown it in the trash, then fell in a heap on the kitchen floor crying. Pathetic.

  She shook her head. All men weren’t bad. She had to remind herself of that. Especially while on a date. Good men. She instantly thought of Jake Cavanaugh. She involuntarily squeezed her legs together remembering him and that night in Lake Tahoe. She could feel herself breathing heavier and getting wet just thinking about it. It had been so…wrong. On the other hand, it was just what she had needed at the time. Still, he crept into her consciousness more often than she would like to admit.

  Jake was a good guy. Sure, it had been a one time fling, but for what it was, he had certainly gone above and beyond. She wondered what he was up to. Probably neck deep in a group of hot women at some club or something. Or maybe already getting serious with someone who didn’t order kiddie drinks. She smiled at that, then sighed. Guys like Jake got snapped up pretty quickly.

  All negative thoughts erased, she turned back to the man across the table from her. Tonight it was Derek, a high school teacher. His stats on OkCupid had earned him a date: 33 years old (acceptable); divorced (minor red flag); likes dogs (bonus point); enjoys golf (negative point); 6 feet (sorry, but bonus point); not into playing games (so cliché that she had almost given him a pass). He had been an 82% match on the dating site. She was giving anyone over 75% a fair shot.

  In person he seemed decent enough. He was definitely not 6 feet tall, more like 5’9, if her own 5’7 was any judge. She was willing to over look that. After all, Denise was a good two inches taller than Ross and they were perfect together. Besides, beggars can’t be choosy, and in the City of Angels, Natalie was a definite beggar.

  She wasn’t one of those women to put down her own looks. She kept in shape and could handily fill out a pair of jeans the way God intended. She had been told her face was everything from “cute” (her friend Mia) to “beautiful” (mom, which didn’t really count) to “sexy” (Malcolm, fucking Malcolm). Still, his was probably the most objective, so she’d go with it.

  If the messages on OkCupid were any indication, she definitely had it going on. It was a literal embarrassment of riches. Sifting through almost a hundred messages of ‘Hey cutie!’ and ‘Want to fuck?’ in order to find an actual gem was pretty much a job in and of itself. It had become all consuming. That damned bio-clock of hers was a huge pain in the ass.

  Curse Malcolm for putting her through this! She was probably more upset at having to date all over again than she was at catching him cheating on her. He was most likely spending his Saturday Netflix-and-chilling with the blonde tart—

  Stop it Natalie! She scolded herself.

  She looked across the table at Derek while he studied the menu. No spark of excitement ran through her. Perhaps that was a good thing. Excitement was for one-night stands, not the future father of your children.

  Natalie focused on the menu in front of her and went back to figuring out what to order. Should she go for the salad? She usually ate pretty healthy and some of the ones listed looked pretty tasty. She didn’t want Derek to think she was the kind of woman who would let herself go once they were married. On the other hand the steak with garlic mashed potatoes was really speaking to her. Didn’t guys always complain they wanted a woman who liked to eat? Oh how she hated dating! Why was she putting herself through this additional torture just to look good for this stranger? She should just order what she wanted.

  But then again, first impressions.

  “So what are you thinking of ordering?” Derek asked.

  “Um,” Natalie looked back and forth between the salad and steak, then sighed, “I’m thinking of getting the Mandarin Chicken salad.”

  “Nice,” said Derek across from her, nodding with a smile. “You know, I was a bit worried before you showed up. I’ve been on so many dates and so many women just look so different from their photos.”

  “You don’t say,” Natalie said. Not-really-six-foot-tall Derek completely missed the subtle sarcasm in her voice.

  “Yeah, like waaay bigger in person,” he continued, laughing.

  Natalie frowned. This date was not getting off to a great start.

  “Oh, I don
’t mean you,” he said, taking her frown the wrong way. “You,” he chuckled, “well, you’re gorgeous. Even better in person than your photos.”

  “Thanks,” she said, sipping her water to avoid looking at him.

  “I mean, there are people out there that like bigger girls,” he went on. “I’m just not one of them. If you’re bigger, just say so instead of trying to trap a man. I think that a person should be true to themselves.”

  “You’re certainly right,” Natalie said, giving him a pointed look. Again he missed the irony.

  The server finally came by to ask what they wanted.

  “I’ll have the steak and garlic mashed potatoes,” Natalie said.

  JAKE

  Jake had just finished running along the East River Park in the morning. It was his favorite way to start the day, being around others, watching them get off the ferries and heading off to their office jobs. It reminded him how lucky he was to have transitioned into something that didn’t require a suit and tie. It was also nice watching the sun come up over Brooklyn across the river. He usually grabbed a coffee and sat at the benches underneath the Brooklyn Bridge before heading back to his apartment.

  He used to take his iPhone running with him, if only to listen to a playlist while he ran. One phone call during his run was all it took to put an end to that. He soon found that it was more enjoyable to listen to the sounds of the city and his own breathing.

  When he entered his apartment, still sweaty from his run, he saw the message from Martha. He debated taking a shower before listening to it, then decided he wanted the news first. He had an idea of what was coming down the pipeline and it looked like today was the day the shit had finally arrived. He pressed the button for voicemail and put it on speaker.

  Jake, I know you’re probably out running, but I wanted to update you. I got a call from the publishers and they want to discuss the new direction your series it taking. Before you start, they love it. Just a few changes. Call me and we can meet and discuss.

  Vague. So she didn’t want to tell him over the phone. Fine, then. He dialed her back.

  “Jake,” she answered on the second ring. “So you got my message.”

  “Were you being deliberately vague?” he asked, slightly irritated.

  “Don’t you go taking your anger out on me,” she warned him. “They always want to make changes and you always fight back. I’m just the messenger.”

  “So what are the ‘few changes’ they want to make?” he asked.

  “Let’s do this over breakfast as usual,” she said. “It’s easier when you’re forced to be civil in a public place.”

  “Let’s do this right now,” he said.

  “Take your shower. I know you haven’t yet,” she said, ignoring him. “I’ll meet you at Kelly’s and we can talk. 10:30, I’ll make sure we have a table.”

  “Martha—”

  “See you then!” she said, hanging up on him.

  “Dammit, Martha,” he growled.

  He pulled off the sweaty shirt and stepped out of his shorts and underwear and walked to the bathroom to turn on the shower. Stepping under the stream that was just below scalding he pondered what the “changes” were that Wright Publishing wanted to make and how he would respond.

  It had certainly taken them long enough to review the first draft of the manuscript. As a continual best seller for the company, his usually got pushed to the top of the pile. It had taken them almost two months to get back in touch; not terribly long, but longer than usual. They probably had multiple meetings to discuss his new addition to the Nick Zane novels and how to broach the topic. He could see them discussing it now: How can we get Jake to make Naomi white?

  It was true he had made Naomi Davidson in the image of Natalie Damond. Instead of a feisty librarian, she was a British MI-6 agent that Nick Zane was forced to join forces with to save the world—in so many words. He had even thrown in the tattoo, with a similar back story. Probably pushing it, and Natalie would probably kill him when she read it, but it just fit so perfectly.

  Now the publishers wanted to meddle with it, and Jake had no intention of letting that happen.

  Martha was already sitting at a table when he got there. He recognized the black rimmed glasses and white bob, held back by her trademark wide, black headband. Even at almost 70 she insisted on bright red lipstick, which somehow worked.

  He made his way through the crowd of people, most of them dressed in suits, holding their own breakfast meetings. More than a few female heads turned at his progress, but he was so preoccupied with the looming discussion that he paid them no attention.

  “Don’t even say a word until you sit down and have some of this coffee,” Martha insisted.

  Jake sat down and brought the coffee, black no sugar as usual, to his lips, took a sip and then set it down.

  “They want to make her white don’t they?” he asked before the cup even hit the table.

  “Of course they do,” she said. “You know corporate, always playing it safe. A white man and a black woman? We’re not that post-racial, sonny. I personally think they’re full of shit. I read the book and you’re right, it worked. But then I’ve lived in New York my whole life, and I’m too old to be bothered with which race is what and all that nonsense.”

  “So why can’t you impart that to them?” Jake asked through gritted teeth.

  “They told me I had to ask,” she said, shrugging. “So now I’ve asked.”

  “I’m not changing her,” he stressed, bringing the cup up for another sip. “I just can’t write her other than how I remember her.”

  Martha gave him a wry smile. “So she’s still in your head is she?”

  Jake lifted his head from the cup with surprise. He certainly thought of Natalie now and again, especially with the book being the focus of his life right now. Was she back together with her cheating boyfriend? Jake hoped not. Maybe she found someone new, someone who wasn’t just a one-night stand. Jake hoped that wasn’t the case either. He had no idea why. It wasn’t as if he’d ever see her again. He supposed it was just the thought of her being with someone else, period, that bothered him.

  “I can tell I’m going to have a fight on my hands with this one,” Martha said, reading his mind. “Like I said, I read the book, and you’re right, it’s your best yet. If this girl is your muse, then we’re damn well keeping her as is.”

  Jake nodded back into his coffee.

  “Of course, it might help if we had a little leverage,” she said, giving him a cunning look.

  He brought his head up giving her a questioning look. “Am I gonna hate this?” he asked.

  She laughed, “You hate everything,” she said. “But since you’re giving this series a romantic twist, you might want to think about broadening your audience. Specifically your female audience.”

  “Absolutely not,” Jake said, putting down his cup. “I know where you’re going Martha.”

  “Jake, eventually everyone is going to find out who you are,” she told him. “If Hollywood picks Nick Zane up your beloved anonymity is out the window anyway. Up until now the only thing holding them back was the lack of a love interest. Now that you’ve got one….” She shrugged, giving him a pointed look.

  Jake sat back in his chair, looking thoughtfully out the window at the pedestrians walking past on the sidewalk.

  “So it’s Naomi versus my privacy is it?” he asked.

  “Well, if you’re going to put it that way,” she said. “They’ve been itching to put your face on that back cover for ages, Jake. Give them this and I guarantee they’ll back off on the race thing. You have no idea how gorgeous that face of yours is! If I was 40 years younger….” She reached over to pat him on the cheek like a great-aunt at Thanksgiving.

  Jake laughed and pulled his head away. “Fine,” he sighed. “Fuck it, let’s do it.”

  “That’s my boy,” Martha said. For the first time Jake saw her actually look giddy. He really must have some face.

 
“But I don’t want some ridiculous get up. No uniforms or bomber jackets or aviator glasses or any of that shit,” he warned.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said, picking up a menu. “Now let’s order something, I’m writing this whole thing off and I’m hungry.”

  Jake picked up his menu. If Natalie wasn’t sure who he was now, she soon would be. He supposed he might as well make good on his promise to send her a copy. He smiled as he wondered how she would take it.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  FOUR MONTHS LATER

  JAKE

  “Uncle Jake!”

  He had driven up to Connecticut to attend his nephew’s 6th birthday party. Two little heads that didn’t even reach his waist came bounding from the kitchen to where he stood in the foyer of the house where his sister lived. He knelt down to take the momentum into his abs instead of his groin. His last visit had been a painful lesson.

  “Hey, Sam! Kenny!” he growled into their towheads. “How are my two favorite nephews?”

  Kenny, the youngest at 4 years old, looked up at him in confusion. “You have other nephews?”

  Jake just smiled down at him, running his hands through his hair, which earned him a cringe as the boy ducked away.

  “None that I love as much as you two,” he assured him, which probably only lead to further confusion.

  “Say, what’s this behind your ear?” He knelt down and flicked a folded up $100 dollar bill from behind Sam’s ear. He had gone to the bank specifically to get it for him.

  Sam took the money and unfolded it. Each boy looked at the novelty denomination in wonder as he held it up to inspect it closely.

  “I’ll hold on to that,” said a feminine voice approaching from the kitchen behind them. The voice belonged to an attractive woman in her early thirties. She reached over to pluck the bill from the boy’s hand earning her moans of protest.