Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Her apartment was clean and tidy. It smelled like burning candles, bleach, and Fabuloso. When he was in her kitchen, he didn’t see any insects, stuff lying about, things like that. She kept her shit up, and that was a plus in his book. He’d always been meticulous about cleanliness and order since his military days, but when he’d fallen into a depression, all of that had gone away. Now, he was back in the game. When he’d leaned in and kissed her forehead, she smelled like cocoa butter, fresh soap, and Chanel perfume.
She was what he imagined beauty smelled like… looked like. She was crass, without being rude. Honest without coming across as stuck-up or phony. He’d listen to her speak in class—articulate. Then he’d hear her on the phone talking to a friend or her baby daddy, and she sounded like a hood chick. He liked that duality. How she was on code when she needed to be. She understood the system and how to play it. He got a thrill out of that, because, well, he was on code, too…
Black girls were his weakness. Especially the ones with expressive eyes. Goals. Intelligence. Street smarts. Dripping with sex appeal. And no fear.
He wanted to know more about her. But, in that case, she’d want to know more about him, too.
He sighed. If they started sharing things about one another, that may bring them closer. The thought of that concerned him, but also excited him.
“Okay, I’m back.” She bounced past him, her robe flapping about as he got an eyeful. The first two buttons of the top were undone, and he could see the upper portion of her breasts. His dick twitched, and he didn’t care if he got caught or not. He cleared his throat, leaned back, and stroked his beard. Looking at the TV screen to find it tuned to ‘Criminal Minds,’ legs sprawled out, he felt comfortable. Comfort these days was hard to come by.
“Dinner was good. Breakfast for dinner is always a good choice. Thank you again. You outdid yourself.”
“You’re welcome.”
She smiled and sat down beside him. Her scent drifted to him. This time, he detected notes of baby powder.
“I want to ask you something, Legend.”
“Yeah? What is it?”
“I know you probably get asked this a lot and are sick of it, but I’m going to ask anyway. Are you—”
“My race and ethnicity. That’s what you want to know, right?” He smirked.
“Yes! Are you like Italian, Hispanic, or Mixed or something? I’ve heard people say different things in class, but I’d rather hear it from the horse’s mouth. At first, I thought you were White, but the more I look at you, I’m not so sure anymore. I’m just curious. If you wanna tell me to mind the business that pays me, that’s fine, too.” She threw up her hands, an innocence showed in her eyes as she offered a sweet, sincere smile.
“Nah, it’s cool. My mother is White. Kentucky born and bred. My father was born in Puerto Rico. He’s Puerto Rican, but is very light-complexioned.”
“Oh, okay.” She crossed her long, thick legs. It was then that he noticed a silver anklet, a rose tattoo, and dark blue toenail polish on her toes. Looping a finger around a long strand of her curly dark brown hair, she started to twist it, then release. And repeat. He wondered if that was her hair or a weave or wig. Not that it mattered. It looked natural and good on her. Their silence was pregnant with words not uttered. He hoped she felt well fed, if nothing else.
“Do you have any kids?” she asked at last.
“Nope. Don’t want any, either.” He shoved one hand in his pocket and leaned back against the white pillow.
“Really? Why not?” she asked with a smile. “You don’t like children?”
“I love kids! I mean, they’re amazing. I like playin’ with them… talkin’ to them. I just don’t want any of my own is all.”
“But… why? I mean, I know not everyone should be a parent. Damn if I don’t know that,” She sucked her teeth as if someone in particular came to mind. “But it always surprises me when well-adjusted people—well, those that seem so—don’t want children.”
“It depends on what day you find me as far as my adjustments are concerned, and that’s just me being real.” She nodded in understanding. “But, uh,” he stroked his beard, “I just don’t want any children because I think this world is crazy and corrupt. If anyone did somethin’ to my kid, I know I’d be going to prison. Point blank period.”
“You can’t live in fear like that though. You just have to do the best you can to protect ’em, and teach ’em well.”
“I’m sure that’s true, but we can’t be with them twenty-four-seven.”
She glanced at the television then turned back to him.