10. Sametra
THURSDAY NIGHT DINNER
Me: I hate that bum ass nigga FR. Who the fuck did he think he was popping up at my house. And how did he get my damn address?
Winnie: What did Dr. Big Daddy say?
Me: Is that sticking? We not doing funny nicknames now, fake asses.
Halo: Girl, ain’t a muthafuckin thing funny about that man. It’s all big dick energy. Sorry, he’s perfect Meechie.
Me: Ain’t that about a bitch. LOL!
I laughed at my friends, especially Halo pulling out the nickname she gave me when we first met.
I slipped my phone back in my purse before checking my makeup in my compact mirror.
I’d been worked up about Ashe all week. His audacity was beyond me.
I was baffled that he thought he still had access to me like that.
And the way Malik handled him, was still making my pussy leak every time I thought about it.
I was struggling to hold off on letting him get a taste.
His ass needed to stay off social media before it got his ass shot. The advice and funny jokes about baby mama’s and baby daddy’s was funny until it wasn’t. I wasn't interested in Ashe, and he damn sure couldn’t just pop up on me. I didn’t find anything funny.
Tonight wasn’t about Ashe, though. It was about Malik.
My nerves were louder than the patrons in the dining area, and Sheena’s somehow felt smaller than usual.
Lorana made sure that Sheena’s had a vibe that made you want to sit back and get comfortable.
She’d always say the more they enjoyed themselves, the longer they stayed and the more money they spent.
Sheena’s had become a lot of people’s favorite place.
Normally, the restaurant felt spacious and welcoming, not so much tonight. Someone new would be in our mix
I grew up helping Lorana, learning how to cook and run a business. This place was my second home. But tonight, being here was driving me crazy, and I couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t the food, I knew my southern boy would love Lorana’s pot roast, fried cabbage, and jalapeno honey cornbread.
My southern boy? I caught myself smiling. That sounded possessive as hell, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. He felt like mine already. I was starting to sound like him.
That feeling was exactly why tonight mattered so much.
Malik was meeting with the family tonight.
Not as Dr. Holloway, Samaj’s physical therapist, not even as the fine man who happened to be around when I needed a ride.
He was coming as Malik, the man who kissed me breathless in my foyer before leaving on Sunday, whose lap I fit in perfectly, and who made it entirely too easy to fall for him.
I was falling for him.
“You alright, baby?” Lorana asked, smoothing the white tablecloth like it hadn’t already been smoothed three times.
I could tell she was nervous too but trying to hide it behind her usual fussing over things being perfect.
I hadn’t brought a man around in years. This was also her baby, and she never half assed it.
It was homage to her sister Sheena, who died from breast cancer.
Sheena loved cooking, loved the art of food and feeding people to show love.
After she passed, Lorana left her state job and opened this southern soul food cafe in her memory.
It was the neighborhood spot because of the live music and poetry nights.
“I’m good,” I lied, adjusting the strap on my peach wrap sundress for the fourth time.
It accentuated my hips, and the subtle v shaped neckline showed a little cleavage, enough to entice him but not enough to have my dad judging me.
It was just right and made my skin glow.
My nerves and I had gone to war over what to wear.
I’d changed into and out of it twice before deciding it was perfect for tonight.
Honestly, he probably wouldn’t care what I had on.
That was the energy he gave me any time he was around me.
I was beautiful in everything. “Just hungry.”
Which wasn’t entirely a lie. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, mostly because I’d been too busy pacing my damn kitchen and pretending I wasn’t second-guessing everything about this evening.
Not the dinner, this was our standing tradition, sacred and unbreakable.
But bringing Malik into it felt... different.
Permanent. It felt like a statement. I hadn’t even gotten the dick yet.
The thought made me snort-laugh, earning a side-eye from Lorana.
“I'm fine. And you stop fussing. He’s so laid back, you’ll love him.”
“Mhhm, you need laid back.”
“I do, but he knows how to turn it up if need be. It’s so sexy, Lorana.”
“I bet it is, girl. I love a little roughneck in my man.”
“Lorana, please,” I laughed squeezing her hand because she got it. I needed ease. I was always wrestling with something, whether it be fires, fears, emotions, with Samaj, or just with my own doubt. The fight had never stopped, only slowed down.
“He’s so serious,” Lorana mentioned pointing to my dad who was already seated at our usual corner booth, thumbing through the laminated menu like he didn’t already know he was getting the fried pork chops with mac and cheese and green beans.
He’d been surprisingly calm about tonight ever since our talk on Saturday, just asking what time to expect him and reminding me that first impressions went both ways.
Samaj wheeled himself up to the table, looking surprisingly put-together in a Polo I’d ironed for him this morning. “Ma, you look nervous. It’s just Dr. Holloway.”
“I’m not nervous,” I said, then immediately contradicted myself by smoothing down my dress again. I fluffed my curls and snapped a picture. The moment felt it needed to be captured. I looked good as hell in this peach. I felt alive. I felt how I did when I went into a burning building. All giddy.
Headlights swept across the restaurant windows, and I checked my watch.
My heart damn near beat out of my chest, and I had to grip the edge of the table to keep from meeting him at the door like a teenager waiting for their prom date.
Through the glass, I could see a familiar silhouette stepping out of what looked like a sleek black car, not his motorcycle this time, thankfully.
Even in the parking lot lighting, I could tell he’d put that shit on, his gait told me all I needed to know. My mouth went dry.
“Damn.”
The door opened, and there he was. White tee under a light blue zip shirt, gold chain, light washed skinny jeans, white forces, and a smirk that said he was happy to see me.
My heart did that thing it had started doing around him, fluttering and bracing for impact at the same time.
My mind would go haywire the minute his scent hit my nose.
I met him halfway, ignoring the way Lorana stared at our eyes connecting. In his hands he held a beautiful bouquet of white roses for both Lorana and me.
“Hey Rommy Rome. You look good with your extra smooth ass,” I said, stepping into his arms. I no longer cared who was in the room.
Around him, he made me want to come further out of my shell.
Puppy love ain’t have shit on this. This was the kind of love songs were written about—deep, consuming, and worth every risk I’d been too scared to take before.
He chuckled and leaned down, brushing a kiss across my cheek. I inhaled as it messed with my whole equilibrium.
“Hey, beautiful, this dress,” he whispered with another kiss to my cheek. He hummed as he inhaled my scent. I stepped back and took the roses from him. “I like this one. What is it?”
“Bitter Peach, Tom Ford,” I mumbled getting nervous because he was obsessed with my scent. He was about to respond and probably say something out of line when Lorana walked up and led us back to the table.
“Malik, this is my stepmom and owner of Sheena’s, Lorana Andrews.” He extended his hand, and she pulled him in for a hug. I knew she would do that. She was a hugger and part of the reason I wasn’t for a long time.
“It’s nice to meet you. These are for you. I couldn’t show up empty handed.”
“Wow, thank you, they are gorgeous. Dale,” she yelled behind her to my father, never taking her eyes off of Malik.
My dad stood and extended his hand.
“Malik Holloway,” he said, offering that deep, smooth tone that made me swallow and push a piece of hair behind my ear. I’d decided to wear my hair in body wave curls tonight with a middle part.
“John-Dale Andrews,” my daddy returned. “Appreciate you joining us for dinner. I imagine you’re a busy man.”
“Glad to be here, sir,” he said it with ease. “And never too busy to give her a yes.”
His eyes landed on me, and I smiled. His words were always perfect. He could sell ice to a polar bear.
“Maj, my man. What we know?”
“We know we got this. What’s up, Lik?”
“Already.” They shared a dap, and he slid into the booth beside me.
He smelled so good, good enough to eat. But it was a combination of things that had me biting my lip and praying I didn’t ruin my panties.
This blue looked so damn good on him. Even though he looked his age, I liked that he had swag and wasn’t an old man trying to be cool.
“Aye, you doing that not breathing thing again. LT, you good?” he whispered in my ear. I snapped out of it and cleared my throat. He smiled as he looked down at me. I got lost anytime he did that.
My dad leaned back, watching him carefully. “So, Malik, tell me about yourself. What brought you to Colorado? I can tell by that twang you aren’t from here.”
“Work, originally,” Malik said, his voice smooth but grounded. “I’d been making moves in Tennessee, and they called and offered me the head of trauma and physical therapy department. I took the job thinking I’d stay a year, maybe two. Give myself time to get settled, see if the place stuck.”
“And?”