A drink.
A sketchpad.
And God’s greatest gift to this earth - a Black woman.
Those three things could usually solve any problem at any time, but tonight, something was different. The glass of 649 was empty. I’d downed the two shots of dark brandy twenty minutes ago. As a result, my mood was lighter than when I first stepped into The Jazz Joint earlier that evening, but anxiety still had my mind frayed. I looked at my sketchpad.
The drawing was just a shaded outline, but the image was still clear. A woman laying in a pile of classic ball gowns, with the bust of one clutched tightly to her bare chest. Tiny microlocs spiraled down to the middle of her back, which faced the viewer, and wound down into lush curves. With her head turned slightly and tilted towards the gowns, you could see a hint of her profile. Long, pretty lashes. Full lips. And a dedicated bone structure that pointed to deep ancestral roots. The freestyle was on point, but looking at it emphasized the fact I was missing that third piece of my calming vice.
A Black woman.
For many reasons, the presence of a soft, sensual, and seductive Black woman could ease my soul like nothing else. I had a wealth of options when it came to women, and probably should have invited one out tonight to help me forget about the waiting.
That’s what had me on edge and had kept me on edge this entire week. After purchasing a three story building in downtown Langston Lake that would house the art-centric school I planned to open next summer, I sent out proposals to two of the most talented Black artists I knew, hoping to bring them on board as regular or part-time instructors. Waiting to hear back had my stomach in a sailor’s knot.
The success of The Artisan Academy didn’t hinge on their involvement; there was no shortage of dope Black creators who had something to teach kids interested in the arts. Moon Rae and Toussaint aligned perfectly with the vision, though. So I was waiting with nervous energy buzzing through my body like I plugged myself into an electrical outlet or something.
A pretty woman with thick thighs and hip dips carved into her chocolate skin could make all of this shit unimportant and obsolete. At least for the night.
I made up my mind. Sliding my phone closer to me, I turned it over. I scrolled through my contacts, not looking for any name in particular, just waiting for one to hit harder than the others. The door to the lounge opened, and since I was in the small booth closest to it, I felt the cool night air breeze in. And then I heard a voice.
That voice.
Her voice.
I paused my scrolling and looked up; a different kind of nervous pushed through my veins.
Marie Rollins.
I tried not to stare while she and her sister-in-law June sat at one of the high bar tables not that far from me. But when had I ever been able to control myself when it came to her? Not as a teenager trying to figure out how I could make enough money to be what I thought she wanted in a man. Not as a confused nigga in my late twenties, when I felt her wrapped around my dick so tight, I could have lived there. And not now, as a man who’d accomplished shit many never would, and still didn’t have the girl of my dreams.
Marie Rollins was back in Langston Lake?
I scratched my beard absentmindedly and wondered what brought her back to a place she was eager to run away from. I looked at her again. Naturally long, dark lashes lined her slanted brown eyes. Every time she blinked, they seemed to kiss her cheeks. Her full, gloss-covered lips curved into a small smile and when she tilted her head to the side and tossed her long, copper microlocs to the side, my dick stirred in my pants.
Everything she did was an invitation to be seduced. To allow myself to be pulled into a sensual, slow, and erotic back and forth with a woman who didn’t fully understand her own power.
What did her being back mean for me?
I wanted to send her a drink and let her know I was in the spot, but I also wanted to do nothing and pretend I hadn’t seen her walk through. Our last encounter was over three years ago and it still burned brightly behind my eyelids whenever I shut them for more than a few minutes. I’d never be released from the memory of her silky soft moans or the look of joyful surprise after that first stroke. Nah, those images and memories were both my slice of heaven and my own personal hell.
I made my mind a powerful, inescapable prison by continuing to feel for her after she aggressively ghosted me when I shared my true feelings. Marie made it crystal clear she ain’t want shit to do with me if it didn’t have anything to do with making her body orgasm and shake uncontrollably underneath mine. What was the point in reopening that wound? So she could pour salt in it?
That realization was my cue. Whatever brought Marie back to Langston Lake didn’t have shit to do with me. I wouldn’t force the narrative to fit any of my fantasies where she ended up - not just on my dick, apologizing for breaking my heart - but in my heart, head, and home for the rest of our lives. We’d never have that. And without that random meeting one night in New York three years ago, I wouldn’t even have that memory to remind me of things I needed to, but didn’t want to, forget.
I closed my sketchbook, left a hundred-dollar bill on the table for my drink and a tip and swiftly exited the restaurant. Instead of heading across the street to my rich navy Maserati, I walked in the opposite direction. My photography studio, Silver Lens, was just a few blocks away, and one of my pretty distractions lived in the loft above it.
It was time to drown my anxiety and thoughts in the scent of another woman. There would be no second random meetup and opportunity for Marie to play with my heart.
* * *
“Amadi!”
I jumped up out of my sleep and banged my forehead on the small cabinet hanging over my cubicle.
“Shit!” I cursed loudly, rubbing my hand over the throbbing spot. I squinted into the sun shining through the large store window. So I wasn’t at home. Cool.
And it was the morning?
“Did you fall asleep working through edits again?” I turned around in my chair to face my younger cousin - slash - assistant Cameryn. She stood in the doorway with a knowing, smug look on her face.
I tossed a quick glance at my computer and did a quick run through of my night. I stopped in here after leaving Jalesa thoroughly fucked in her bed upstairs. I still wasn’t ready to go home, so I started edits for a magazine shoot that weren’t due for another two weeks.
“Yeah,” I grumbled. I scratched the patchy goatee pushing through on my chin and stretched. “What are you doing here? We don’t have any shoots today.”
“I was on my way home from my morning run to call you, but stopped in when I saw the lights on. I figured I could give you the good news in person. But then I found you slumped over your desk like you hit several bottles last night.” She smirked again and walked over and sat on the small loveseat.
I envied her ability to rise with the sun and get moving so quickly. I could rise with the sun, but not to get out the bed. If I had it like that, I’d wake up just to make lazy love to a beautiful woman and go back to sleep. That’s the most movement the morning would ever get out of me.
“Nah, I had a couple of drinks last night, but nothing like that. I ain’t wanna go home, so I came here and started on some work.”
“Oh. How depressing,” she joked.
“Shut up.”
“I’m just saying. You ain’t have nothing better to do on a Saturday night?” She looked at me sadly like the thought of not partying with a group of drunk motherfuckers was a waste of time.
I shook my head and ignored her, stretching into a long yawn.
“What did you do last night? We wrapped that shoot kinda late.”
We worked late last night to get test shots of the city for a couple’s upcoming engagement photos. I gave Cameryn the option to leave early if she wanted; a lot of the shoot was light work, but she stuck around until the end.
My work didn’t actually require an assistant, but I hired Cameryn a few months ago anyway. Aside from her being family, she had a genuine interest in photography. Plus, it helped give her something to do other than going on dates with all them loser, stiff-ass dudes my aunt and uncle kept introducing her to.
“Oh you know, did hoodrat shit with my hoodrat friends before driving around running errands with my gangsta boo boyfriend.”
The howl I let out was loud and unexpected and really woke me up. Her goofy ass was always saying some shit that showed just how stupid she thought her parents dating rules were. Ain’t no way she did anything but go home and study for one of her college exams. I quieted down from my laughter and looked at her cheesing like a big kid. Her expensive ass clear braces gave the sun something to bounce light off of.
And then I remembered she said she stopped in because she wanted to share good news.
“Wait, you said you had something to tell me?”
“Oh!” Her eyes widened with excitement and she hopped up from the couch. “You have three emails from this morning. Two of them you’re going to want to read maybe right now?”
“Don’t play with me, Cam,”I started, but my heart was already racing as I spun around and woke my computer up.
“No jokes.”
I stayed silent as I quickly navigated to my email. The most recent one was from The Rollins Farms account. I wasn’t on any of their email lists. Truthfully, outside of Marie, I didn’t really fuck with them like that. But I knew that’s not what Cameryn had stopped in here to tell me. The two emails right beneath that one had me jumping out my seat before I opening them. Both subject lines provided a “yes” for my proposals. I’d secured two amazingly talented Black artists to bring that global diaspora shit to my hometown.
“Let’s fucking go!” I shouted, pounding my fist to my chest. Cameryn nodded and laughed.
“I knew that would put you in the right mood.”
“Man, thanks for stopping in with that news, Cam. I needed that. For real.”
“No problem. I was going to tell you one way or the other. You’re super dope for bringing Moon Rae and Toussaint to The Artisan Academy. Langston Lake really won’t know what hit them.”
“Yeah, they’re not ready. But then again, neither was I. Let’s go!” I shouted again. Suddenly I was wide awake, bouncing on the balls of my feet.
“Let me know if you want me to send something out to them this weekend. And also let me know how you want me to respond to that request from the Rollins.” That stopped me in my tracks.
Request?
“What request?” She pointed at my computer.
“The email they sent this morning. They want to hire you for a new project. I think furniture and a few custom pieces, but they want to set up a meeting to discuss everything in detail.”
Hire me?
“You sure?” I pressed Cameryn because that didn’t sound right.
“Yeah. Check the email after you calm down from the other news.”
All I could do was nod. I didn’t want to explain to her why the Rollins wanting to hire me didn’t make any fucking sense. Not when Mrs. Rollins had explicitly stated that I wasn’t good enough for her daughter way back when. Cameryn stood and stopped me from traveling too deep into that painful memory.
“Well, I need to get back to my place. I have a study session with some friends before dinner with Kilian later.”
“You still seeing dude?” The last time she brought him up, she called him a selfish airhead who wrongly assumed she was head over heels in love with him.
“Seeing is a strong word. But out of the guys my parents have tried to set me up with, he’s the one who annoys me the least.”
“That says a lot.”
“Doesn’t it?” She exclaimed loudly with an incredulous laugh. “So, I let him court me every few weeks to keep them off my back about finding a good husband, while I wait for my prince charming to come save me.”
“Ha, that’s rich.”
“That’s all I’m trying to be,” she mumbled as she turned for the door. “Well, I’ll see you Tuesday.”
“Alright, Cam. Get home safe.”
“Thanks.” She walked out and tossed the peace sign in the air.
That excitement returned and I quickly got my stuff together to go home and shower. Whatever the Rollins wanted to discuss was the least of my concerns. My dreams were coming true right in front of my eyes.