Getting His Game Back Read online

  Tossing the freshly cased pillow on the bed, Vanessa flopped into the armchair. She’d have to take a second pass at decorating it, but the little guest room over her garage-turned-art studio looked pretty good and was coming in handy for the last week of renovations at Lisa’s apartment.

  “Like what?” she asked.

  “Hot, professional, sexy, intelligent…” She trailed off. “Actually, it’s less the specific words than the quantity. You’ve been talking about him nonstop since I got here.”

  “Have not.”

  “Have too.”

  Vanessa squinted at her. Lisa smirked back and went into the bathroom with her toiletry kit. Lisa was off base. Vanessa hadn’t been talking about Khalil that much. Pushing herself out of the chair, she grabbed Lisa’s bag off the floor. She’d put half the clothes in the dresser drawer by the time Lisa returned.

  “Sorry,” she said, bumping her hip against Vanessa’s. “Maybe I’m just ready for you to have someone in your life.”

  Vanessa laughed. “You’re ready? How do you think I feel?”

  “He sounds hot, but other than where he works, do you know anything about him? Like, could he check some boxes on The Basic Requirements?”

  “The List? You just gave me grief about it last week. Now you want me to use it?”

  Lisa scooped up the remaining clothes she’d brought, and Vanessa took the empty bag to fold and toss in the closet.

  “You know how I feel about The List. You’re gonna use it no matter what I say. Not that big of a surprise. I see you’ve even put together a list of anything your guests may need.”

  “The stuff in the bathroom?”

  “Hope you didn’t buy all that just for me,” Lisa said. “Though it’s good to know there are condoms on hand if I get lucky.” She waggled her eyebrows.

  Vanessa rolled her eyes. “You better not bring anyone back here.”

  “If you don’t want anyone gettin’ freaky in here, why are there condoms?” Lisa asked, tossing a pillow at Vanessa.

  “Because I don’t want any gross surprises when I change the sheets!” She laughed, chucking the pillow back. “And excuse me for trying to be hospitable. I appreciate having a few necessities when I check into hotels. Thought I’d do the same for houseguests.”

  “What kinda hotels you stayin’ in that provide condoms?”

  “Oh my God.” Vanessa rolled her eyes again and fell back into the armchair.

  Lisa grabbed the laptop off the dresser and stretched out on the bed.

  “Speaking of condoms, back to Hottie Barber and The Basic Requirements,” she said. “You think he just wants an app?”

  “Maybe he checks a box or two. And why wouldn’t he just want an app?” Vanessa asked.

  Lisa arched an eyebrow.

  “A box or two? One: He’s hot. Two—”

  “Being attractive is not number one on The List,” Vanessa said.

  “Please. It’s either number one or two. I’ll save you from yourself if you forget the importance of good genes. Two: He owns his own business. And it’s doing well. Three: He has a master’s or an MBA?”

  Vanessa nibbled the inside of her lip.

  “Saw a photo at the shop. Pretty sure he has one or the other.”

  “Okay. Well-mannered?”

  Vanessa shrugged, fiddling with a loose thread on the arm of the chair. “Yes.”

  “Guess it’s too early for you to know if he’s got a good relationship with his family.”

  “See?” Vanessa said. “It’s too early for all this. And what do you mean about the app?” she asked.

  Lisa side-eyed her. “What do you think I mean? You’re attracted to him; you said he might be attracted to you. You really think an app is all he’s interested in?”

  “Even if he were attracted to me, and even though I do find him cute—”

  “Cute, sexy, handsome,” Lisa cut her off without looking up from the screen.

  “Even though he’s cute, he’s off-limits. If I take him—them—on as clients,” Vanessa said.

  Lisa rolled her eyes, then flipped the laptop around, the screen facing Vanessa. She’d zoomed in on a close-up of Khalil, a candid shot taken of him and a client laughing together.

  “Why in the world would you want him, that smile, to be off-limits?” she asked.

  “You know precisely why,” Vanessa said. “Bad for business.” She glanced at her hand, checking her fingernails. “Plus, I’ve got so much on my plate right now,” she said. “This Alphastone project deserves all my focus. Not some man who is not only a potential client but might not be on the market—and he might not date black women.”

  Lisa sighed, then turned the screen back to herself.

  They sat in amiable silence for a few minutes, Vanessa’s mind trailing to the meeting she had the following morning and the need to check her inbox.

  “Well…” Lisa brought Vanessa back to the present, then didn’t say anything.

  “Well?” Vanessa asked.

  “Mr. Darius is super fine himself. Any sparks there?”

  Vanessa let her head roll to one side, strumming her fingertips on the arms of the chair.

  “If you have to think about it,” Lisa said.

  “There’s no spark,” Vanessa finished. “He seems like a great—” Vanessa straightened, grinning.

  “No,” Lisa said. “We’re talking about you right now, not me.”

  Vanessa leaned back.

  “For the moment,” she said.

  Lisa returned to the laptop. “This Khalil guy might be okay, Ness. He’s not Rick.”

  Vanessa narrowed her eyes at Lisa. Rick, her most recent ex, was the reason she’d added “has to be a black man” to her list of Basic Requirements. They’d been together for eight months, and while things had started off well, the clueless microaggressions built up to a point that she just couldn’t take.

  “Rick was the last straw,” she said.

  “You’re letting that fool live rent-free in your head, Ness,” Lisa said.

  “I made a fool out of myself for him.”

  “How so? All you did was be an open-minded, caring person. And apart from a couple clueless gaffes, I don’t think he was mean-spirited.”

  Vanessa crossed her arms.

  “He added ‘Jungle Fever’ to his sex playlist,” she said.

  “Like I said, a clueless gaffe that he corrected and apologized for when you pointed it out.”

  “After a lot of educating him. And his snide comments about my diversity program at work. And his joke about me looking like a slave with my sleep scarf on. He even got mad when I said that he was white. Though he sure had no problem describing me as black. The small things add up. As you know so well.”

  Lisa sighed. “I do.”

  “And yeah, he was cute and kind at first. But I can never forget how he made me feel like I was just one of a mass. ‘Black girls this’ and ‘black girls that.’ He didn’t even see a problem with his friend suggesting I cut his hair, ’cause ‘all black girls know how to do hair.’ Come on, what was that even about?” She sighed, leaning back against the chair. “Same ‘black people are a monolith’ I have to deal with in my field, that blackface nonsense in college. It even goes back to Tony in high school.”

  “Please do not let Mr. High School Basketball Star have an impact on your grown-ass life,” Lisa said. “You were both young and learning about the whole concept of dating. Anyone who looks back on their first boyfriend is going to cringe.”

  “He kept me a secret from everyone. Didn’t want people, or more important, his parents to know that we were dating, to know that he even liked me. Why should I be someone’s dirty little secret? It’s part of a pattern. Time after time, the men I’ve dated who aren’t black make me feel like I’m not a real person. I’m a secondary character in their story.”

  “Okay. Let’s talk black men. What about Tyrone?” Lisa asked.

  “What about him?”

  “Technically, he checked all the boxes.”

  Vanessa squirmed.

  “He did,” she said. “And there was so much I didn’t have to say. I didn’t have to explain simple things, like why I was sure I was getting screwed with that business loan. He understood being discounted.”

  “Tyrone was an undercover hotep. Pro-black, but just for men. Didn’t he also call you a traitor for ‘trying to get the white man’s money’ when you needed that loan?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  “He wasn’t good for you. Don’t see how he’s good for anyone but himself. And he’s proof that being with a black man isn’t the be-all, end-all.”

  Vanessa chewed that over. There’d been a lot about Tyrone she’d just let slide, and Lisa was right: He hadn’t been good for her.

  Lisa was quiet, lips pursed to the side as she scrolled down the screen.

  Vanessa sighed.

  “Listen, you get me. I hate how it looks, rejecting a guy because of the color of his skin. But ultimately, it’s not about that. I just want to be seen as an individual, treated as a person. Not some ‘other.’ And I have yet to cross paths with a man who isn’t black who’s shown me he can do that.”

  Lisa stopped scrolling and rubbed her chin.

  “I know. You’re right. But look,” she said, pointing at the laptop again.

  The About the Team page filled the screen, Lisa having scrolled down to Khalil’s bio.

  “He went to Morehouse,” Lisa said. “You never ran into him when you were at Spelman?”

  Vanessa squinted, readi
ng the relevant line.

  “No, I’d have remembered him.”

  “And he works in a black neighborhood. Two of his three shops are in black neighborhoods,” Lisa said. “He made the choice to invest in them.”

  “Um…okay?” Vanessa looked straight at Lisa. “Where are you going with this?”

  Lisa went to a page of photos, scrolling down fast, and back up again. Then she nodded and angled the screen toward Vanessa.

  “What do you see?” she asked. There were different shop interiors, close-ups of cuts, a few shots from sporting events and bake sales. Vanessa was lost.

  “A small business with a good vibe?” she asked. “I like the choice to run things that way.”

  Lisa looked disappointed. “You said he and his business partner seem to go way back?”

  “Yeah. Saw an old photo of them at the shop.”

  “Kay. He went to an HBCU. His partner is black. He works and has invested in black neighborhoods. Nearly all the people in these pictures with him are people of color—he is literally surrounded by people of color, mostly black people.”

  Vanessa took a second look. Lisa had a point.

  “I seriously doubt he’s some clueless white boy who doesn’t understand that being black in America comes with specific challenges,” she said.

  Vanessa shrugged. “Spicy white boy.”

  “So?” Lisa asked.

  Vanessa looked again, enjoying his easy smile.

  “I can admit that appearance and personality wise, he is very attractive. But he’s a potential client. Gotta focus on that.”

  Lisa sighed. “Can’t say I didn’t try.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Khalil compared the train-station-style clock on the wall to the time on his phone again. The wall clock was definitely his style, but not the way the second hand was dragging, each tick slower than the last. He rolled his eyes. Both clocks showed the same time, neither taking his impatience into account. Getting to the coffee shop early kept him from being late, not antsy.

  The door swung open and there she was, outfit accented with a light scarf that coordinated with another pair of those sexy heels. She shifted the attaché case on her shoulder, caught his gaze, and smiled. He smiled and waved. She pointed to the counter and he nodded. Then he kicked himself. He should have waited in his car, paying attention so he could have walked in with her. From where he was sitting, there was no way to offer to pay for her drink. He uselessly checked his phone again before tucking it away in his pocket and running his hands down his thighs.

  “Hi,” she said as he stood to greet her. He returned her handshake.

  “Hey,” he said. “Thanks for meeting me.”

  She shook her head, sitting down.

  “Glad to. Like I said, it’s good for me too. Gotta keep my skills sharp. Have you been waiting long?”

  “No.” He wanted to say something else, but his mind went blank.

  “Well,” she said, surprising him as she pulled out a leather document holder and flipped it open to reveal a legal pad. He would have expected a tablet and stylus. She pulled a pen out of its loop holder and clicked it once. “Guess we’d better get started; I don’t want to make you late for your niece.”

  He smiled. “No worries; it’s not far.”

  “Gotta say, I was surprised when you told me that.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “Don’t know many men involved enough in their nieces’ lives to take them to the dentist,” she said, blowing across her coffee to cool it.

  He shrugged. “Family’s important. And she’s a cool little lady. Hope I have one just like her someday.”

  “Oh.” She blinked once, in sync with a quick jump of her eyebrows. He couldn’t help but lean forward, curious as to what that expression meant. He crossed his forearms at the edge of the table and caught her glance at his watch. Instinct made him curl his wrist inward a bit.

  “Did…um, did she make those for you?” Vanessa asked.

  He followed her gaze again.

  “Ah, my bracelets. She did. Guess it’s kind of weird, a twenty-eight-year-old guy wearing them,” he said.

  Vanessa shot him that devastating smile, and he caught himself smiling too.

  “I don’t think it’s weird,” she said. “It’s really sweet. Kinda shows you don’t take yourself too seriously.”

  He glanced away as his cheeks heated.

  “No,” he said to Vanessa. “Not too seriously. And Maddie was so cute about making them for me—Madison, my niece. It would have been cruel to not wear them.”

  Heat shot up his neck as Vanessa puckered her lips into a little heart, sighing out a brief stream of air, attention firmly on her legal pad.

  “You’re…unexpected,” she said, looking up at him.

  He gulped. Then he tried to smile. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m used to men my age pulling away from family ties or the idea of kids. Going after that all-important independence.” She took another sip.

  “I get it,” he said. “But those guys are crazy. I can’t wait to start a family of my own someday. Now that my shops are good, I have something to offer, you know? Before…” He shrugged. “Maybe they’re not so crazy. It would have been really difficult to have kids much younger. Building a business takes drive, as you’re well aware,” he said. She returned his smile. “I was so focused on that, I’d have made a rotten husband or father. But now, things are coming together pretty well. All that’s missing is the right person.” He flashed hot, embarrassed, and unusually angry with himself. Something he’d need to note in his mood tracking app. “Umm…sorry. Didn’t mean to say all that.”

  “It’s cool,” she said, taking a much longer sip and gazing off to the side.

  He took a drink as well, happy for the excuse to shut himself up since he was buzzing with nerves and was going to start babbling again if he didn’t relax. He really needed to get this attraction in check. He’d been off the market for so long that he felt like a goofy teenager around a beautiful woman. Plus, they were meeting for professional reasons, not personal ones. His attraction to her had no business in the situation.

  “So, um, you’re single?” Vanessa asked, and his attention was one hundred percent back on her. Hers was on the zipper on her document holder, then the edge of her paper. A blast of adrenaline almost shot his heart out of his chest. He leaned forward again, inching his chair closer to the table.

  “I am,” he said. “Are—”

  “I’m sorry, Khalil. Excuse me. That was inappropriate.” She sat up straighter in her seat, shoulders back, gaze firmly on his. “You’re my client, well, a potential client. Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

  “Um, okay,” he said, confused. She unfolded a printed sheet from a pocket in her document case and wrote the date at the top of her legal pad.

  “So,” she said. “According to your website, you have three shops, is that correct?”

  The shift in mood and even in her tone made him pause. Friendly, then all business. And then it clicked. Maybe she didn’t date clients? He took a second look at her, assessing, ticking through the information he’d gathered from his borderline stalking online. Now that he thought about it, there’d been a Facebook page with her name on it, but all it had was posts from business-related events. Her relationship status hadn’t been noted. Her Instagram had also been business only. I bet she doesn’t mix her professional and personal lives. Maybe for the best. His personal life was barely stitched back together.

  “Yes,” he answered. “Three shops.”

  “And you aren’t currently using your website for scheduling purposes, right? I couldn’t find that option online.”

  “No, we aren’t,” he said. “But we would like to.”

  He answered each of her questions mechanically, beating himself up for his cluelessness. He should have listened to Darius and stuck to the original timeline. Even if that meant finding a different excuse to talk to her. She was efficient and professional in each detail; the possibility of getting to know her personally was slipping away. And then another detail cropped up. She was already his client, and maybe her resistance to mix business and personal went both ways—whether she was the client or the service provider. He might not have ever had a chance for something more. He didn’t know what to do.