Getting His Game Back Read online

  “My next client will be here any minute, but Khalil can hook you up.” He nodded in Khalil’s direction, and she looked straight at him. There was a falter in the intensity of her gaze, one he knew well. She hid her surprise, clearing her expression.

  “Can you? Just a shape-up with a V in the back,” she asked. Even her little shrug was charming.

  “Got you, fam,” he said, intentionally not reacting to her surprise at his choice of words. He looked away long enough to lean the broom against the wall, then stepped over to his chair and turned it toward her. He wanted to make a little joke but looking at her again took away the thought. She thanked him and slid out of her jacket, which he still had the presence of mind to step forward and take from her. Hanging it on the rack near the front of the shop gave him a second to collect himself. He glanced at Darius’s reflection and caught the laugh he was holding in.

  “It’s Khalil?” she asked as he draped a cape over her.

  “It is,” he said. “And you are?”

  “Vanessa; nice to meet you. Listen, um…Do you have a lot of experience? I, uh…I’ve never—”

  “Had a white boy cut your hair?” he asked, keeping his grin at bay.

  “Well, yeah, but…” She scrunched her eyebrows as she looked at his reflection, and he was sure he’d embarrass himself by blushing. “Are you…white?” Sliding a perfectly manicured hand out from under the cape, she clapped it over her lips. “This is completely out of line. I’m sorry. Clearly you’re here, you’re certified.” She nodded at his license beside the mirror. “You know what you’re doing.”

  He pumped the pedal of the chair, almost as much as when he cut his niece’s hair. He leaned over so their reflections were almost eye to eye.

  “Technically, I’m Algerian and French. So no, not a white boy–white boy. But I understand.”

  He caught the warmth in her cheeks before she covered them with her hands. He couldn’t hold in his laugh.

  “I’m sorry!” she said. “Please don’t mess up my hair! I’m giving a talk in Vancouver tomorrow; my professional image is in your hands.”

  He’d always had a weakness for a woman’s smile. But Vanessa’s right then nearly killed him. She wasn’t being polite. She was genuine, open, and radiant. She clearly had a sense of humor and probably didn’t take herself too seriously. Not if she smiled like that with someone she’d just met. He didn’t temper his smile in return.

  “I told you,” he said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I got you, fam.”

  * * *

  —

  Vanessa Noble, “the App Goddess,” CEO of Oshun Communications.

  Khalil had had a tech celebrity in his shop that day and hadn’t known it. Scrolling farther down in his Google search of Vanessa and forgetting his aching eyes, he watched her talk from the previous year. Scanning a linked article, he learned that her TEDx Talk on the future of business management software had gotten so many hits she’d been invited to the home of TED Talks to give one the next day—that was the “talk” she had mentioned. He liked her choice not to tell him it was a TED Talk, that decision not to show off. He liked it because he’d done something similar with her, in not telling her that the Fade was his shop, the third he and Darius had opened in the past four years.

  Wanting to see what else was out there, he googled and got rewarded with another article: a presentation she’d given earlier that year. It was too technical for him to follow, but that didn’t matter. She’d had room to walk across the stage. And he couldn’t get enough. Her heels were stratospherically tall, but simple. He marveled at her strides, looking as comfortable as if she were barefoot. She’d mentioned her professional brand that afternoon, that her hairstyle was part of it. He imagined the shoes were as well. He smiled, recognizing that the couple inches they gave her probably didn’t hurt. The camera angle changed, giving the viewer a glimpse of the audience, rapt and focused. But Khalil’s attention was drawn to Vanessa’s silhouette: svelte and petite. She was a sexy pixie of a thing and he couldn’t wait to see her again.

  He’d been nervous at the register, hands shaking a little as he’d shifted the card machine toward her.

  “So,” he’d managed to say. “Should I put you down for an appointment two weeks from now? Say ten a.m.?”

  “Two weeks?” she asked. “Trying to keep me looking sharp?”

  He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m invested now.”

  He thought he caught a little smile as she looked down to put her wallet back in her purse. She backed up a few steps toward the door and made eye contact with him again.

  “Do you flirt with all your clients?” she asked.

  He smiled, feeling his cheeks warm.

  “Just being friendly,” he said. “Besides, flirting with my usual clients doesn’t work if I want them to come back.”

  She laughed, free and open. He couldn’t help smiling along.

  “I’ll see you at ten a.m. in two weeks, Khalil.” She winked at him. “Have a good day.”

  He nodded as she pushed the door open and left, flashing that amazing smile.

  * * *

  —

  Headed to bed after brushing his teeth, Khalil got there in time to catch his phone on the last ring before it went to voicemail.

  “Just the man I need to talk to,” he said, stretching out on his bed.

  “ ’Sup, bro?” The background noise settled, and Khalil figured Karim had shut himself away somewhere.

  “When was the last time you changed your glasses? I’ve been fine with my contacts, but it’s like my glasses don’t wanna work anymore.”

  “I guess three or four months ago?”

  “Right. Forgot.” He pulled the sheets down and shoved a pillow against the headboard. “Ran out of contacts around the same time and had a checkup before I could get new ones. Never got around to updating my glasses.”

  “I think we’ve reached the age where people can tell us apart without the old ‘glasses, no glasses’ thing,” Karim said.

  “Yeah, I think it’s more the ‘wife, no wife’ thing now.”

  Karim grunted. “Next subject.”

  “Things are that good?” he asked.

  “She’s been in a mood lately. I don’t know why. And whenever I ask, she says there’s no specific reason.”

  “Sounds fun. You guys still trying? Maybe she’s stressed about that.”

  “God, please, next subject. Seriously.”

  “Okay…” Khalil was excited to be an uncle again, and he knew Karim had been ready to start a family of his own. He guessed the holdup was Karim’s wife, Laila, but his brother shut him down every time the subject came up.

  “Let’s talk about you,” Karim said. “How are things back home? How’s the new Fade?”

  * * *

  —

  After an hour on the phone with Karim, Khalil checked in with Mo, Rachid, and Amir. Their mom always encouraged Mo, as the oldest, to take the lead in making sure that the boys spoke frequently, but it wasn’t his personality, while it was second nature to Khalil. Maybe because he was the middle child, even though Karim would never accept that. But what could Khalil do? Three minutes older was still three minutes older. Rachid would have to leave his laboratory long enough to remember that other people existed in order to initiate a call, and Amir was still in college. Family was central for Khalil; he couldn’t help but check on them. He shot a quick text to Darius about some details for the block party they were planning and asked about his parents before he could let himself relax.

  After popping his meds, he plugged his phone in and clicked off the light. Under the covers, everything calm and still, one person came back to him: Vanessa Noble and her intimidating shoes. Women had enthralled him since he’d gotten that first big hit of testosterone in his teens. Every single one of his girlfriends had tortured themse
lves with high heels, and while he appreciated the result, he wasn’t oblivious to the discomfort. But Vanessa seemed different. He’d never met a woman who looked so light and at home in shoes like that, as though they’d been made for her. He smiled, letting himself imagine sliding those heels off her, running a hand up the back of her calf, skittering higher. But he might not be her type. Or she might have a boyfriend. Rather than let himself get excited now and make it awkward when he saw her again in two weeks, he’d better start thinking of her as a client, instead of wondering how her skin felt, or if that hint of lavender around her came from her lotion, her perfume, or her body wash.

  But she’d been on his mind off and on all evening. Head cradled in his palms, he relaxed his gaze at the ceiling, trying to track the last time he’d spent as much time thinking about a woman. The past few months he’d spent hours upon hours ruminating. He’d dissected, looked for clues, tried to understand all his stuff. Nia had left him after he’d fallen apart. But why had he fallen apart in the first place? He shuddered, frustration rolling through him. All his ruminating had made it hard to think about the future. He had way too much work to do on himself before he could entertain the possibility of a new woman in his life. But now…thinking about her this much had to mean something. Maybe Dr. E was right. He cleared his throat and rolled over, bunching up a pillow and tugging it against his chest as he willed himself to sleep.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Baby, is that you?”

  “Hey, Ma-Max,” Vanessa called out, stepping into the house from the garage. She paused beside the door to switch into her slippers. The scent of crisp apple cinnamon wrapped around her as she turned the corner, headed toward the kitchen. Her grandmother’s house was always fresh and full of light, a welcome reprieve on days like today when the thirty-minute drive stretched closer to forty-five. Crossing the threshold, Vanessa immediately relaxed.

  “There you are,” her grandmother said, arms spread. Vanessa snuggled in and hugged her. She’d hoped to speak first to avoid the habitual line of questioning, but she should have known better. Her grandmother brushed a graceful swoop of relaxed hair off her forehead as she stepped back and looked Vanessa up and down.

  “You’ve lost weight,” she said.

  “Have I, ma’am? I don’t think so,” Vanessa said, keeping her tone light.

  Maxine squinted, the corners of her mouth turning down. She appraised again. “You have. You’ve been traveling too much. Stresses the body.” She lifted a glass of sparkling water off the counter. “You should come home more,” she said, turning toward the patio and crooking a bejeweled finger to tell Vanessa to follow.

  My weight and my work. Not even in the house two minutes yet.

  She carefully schooled her features as she closed the sliding glass door behind her. The serviceberry tree was in bloom, its feminine aroma filling the air. Arletta, her grandmother’s best friend, was under it, talking on her phone and finishing a cigarette. She waved at Vanessa.

  Lunch was laid out on the patio table. Vanessa took her seat, sliding her phone out of her pocket, arranging it beside her plate. Her grandmother sighed.

  “Must you?” She tipped her head at Arletta. “She’s getting as bad as you, being on her phone all day. I will never understand. How can people possibly communicate through those things? Face-to-face communication. That’s how it should be—”

  “Lord, Max. The girl just got here. You aren’t gonna start already?” Arletta joined them, taking her usual spot across from Maxine. “Please spare us the ‘playing on your phone all day’ speech. You don’t become the App Goddess by sticking to outdated perspectives on—”

  “Outdated? Letta, you are trying my patience today. Did you come for lunch, or to work my last nerve?”

  Arletta reached over and squeezed Vanessa’s crossed knee.

  “I came to see my girl, you know that.” She winked at Vanessa. Her smirk was always the same when she was going to pick at Maxine. Vanessa appreciated the warning not to laugh too hard. She fixed her gaze on the waterfall at the edge of the pool, raising her sparkling water for a sip. Arletta continued.

  “Besides. You wanna talk outdated, let’s talk about that getup. Hostess pajamas went out with the Twist.”

  Vanessa swallowed hard, fighting down her laughter at her grandmother’s clucking, while Arletta egged her on. Harold the gardener passed at the end of the yard, shaking his head. He was well accustomed to the bickering. Vanessa slid forward for a cherry tomato. She had fuzzy memories of her grandfather, Papa Joe. He’d passed away when she was ten, after years of working hard to ensure his family’s future in a Michigan strongly opposed to a black man’s success. Her grandmother had picked up the reins of his insurance business, managing it as well as she’d managed her family’s industrial support operations. Vanessa knew all of the stories of her grandparents’ business acumen, but she didn’t know what their relationship had been like. She imagined that they had set the example her parents were following—out saving the world together. But if Vanessa couldn’t have a relationship like that, she’d be good with a best friend for the rest of her life. Like Ma-Max and Arletta. Then her grandmother turned her attention on her, as though she’d read Vanessa’s mind.

  “Of course Vanessa knows I’m proud of her. What I want to know is when I’m gonna get some great-grands.”

  Vanessa did not roll her eyes. Instead, she picked up the serving utensils next to the sliced pork roast.

  “Auntie Letta, I’m starved. You?”

  “I am; thank you, baby.” She lifted her plate and Vanessa avoided eye contact. She got a helping of potato salad on the plate before Arletta remembered their last conversation. “Wait a minute. Ness, didn’t you just get back from Vancouver?”

  “She did,” Maxine said. “How did your talk go? What is it again? A Teddy?”

  “TED Talk, Ma-Max. Just TED. And everything went great. Made some good connections.”

  Ma-Max’s eyes lit up. “Speaking of connections, did you see Andrew? Debra’s grandson?”

  Vanessa served herself, then cut off an unladylike chunk of pork roast and shoved it into her mouth.

  “Please, Ness, do tell. Did you have a good time on your date with Andrew?” Arletta singsonged. She pulled the bottle of Chardonnay out of its chiller and poured Vanessa a large glass. Vanessa raised an eyebrow. Arletta winked.

  Guess I have backup.

  She took a fortifying drink of wine and smoothed her napkin on her lap.

  “He begged me not to say anything, Ma-Max.”

  “Say anything? Did he get too fresh with you, Vanessa? Try to take advantage?”

  “Take advantage?” Vanessa asked.

  “Yes. Debra promised me he wouldn’t, but if he’s anything like his father—”

  “Like his father?” Arletta asked, laughing. “You can’t be this blind.”

  “What?” Maxine looked back at Vanessa. “Is that what happened? Did he try anything?”

  “No, Ma-Max. Nothing like that. He was the perfect gentleman.”

  “You’ll see him again, then?” Maxine asked.

  “Um…no.” Vanessa picked up her utensils, wishing she were anywhere else. Andrew’s secret wasn’t hers to tell.

  “Vanessa. I fail to see the problem. He’s one of the few eligible young black men in our social group with an MBA, a strong family background, and his own thriving business. Plus, he is handsome and dresses well.”

  Arletta snickered.

  “What is the problem?” Maxine asked, glaring at her friend. “He is quite the catch.”

  Vanessa relented. “He was, Ma-Max. For his husband.”

  Arletta cackled. “Better than I thought!”

  “Repeat that, please,” Maxine said.

  “Everything you said is true. Young, attractive, educated, accomplished. Attributes that snagged him an equally attractive
man.”

  “Man?” Maxine asked.

  “He’s gay, Max,” Arletta said. “You owe me fifty bucks.”

  Vanessa balked. “You all bet on him being gay?”

  “No, sweetie,” Arletta said. “I bet your gran that the date would be a flop. Because she refused to believe what everyone’s known since forever and what Debra won’t accept. Did you really go out?”

  Vanessa shrugged. “We met for coffee, with his husband, Nick—who is stunning, by the way. They showed me around the city. And because things are so tense in his family about him being gay and with a white man, he begged me not to say anything other than that we had seen each other. Please keep everything to yourselves, especially the fact that they got married.”

  Maxine huffed, taking a bite of her pork.

  “Pay up,” Arletta said.

  “You know I’m good for it,” Maxine said, cutting her eyes at Arletta. “Shame. You two would have made some beautiful babies together.”

  Vanessa rested the tines of her fork on the edge of her plate. Ma-Max’s great-grandbaby mania was new. After years of encouraging Vanessa to excel in her career, her grandmother’s advanced age might have shifted her focus to convincing Vanessa to start a family.

  “Promise not to say anything, please?” she asked.

  “Not a word from me,” Arletta said.

  “Me either,” Maxine said. “Though I can understand Debra being upset.”