Curvy Girl Summer

Chapter 4

I hate dating.

I closed my eyes as the fruity cocktail swirled around my mouth, dancing across my taste buds. I savored it for a second before swallowing the last of the drink I’d been nursing for half an hour. Between the bartender asking me if I was still waiting for someone every five minutes and the fact that I was still waiting over thirty minutes later, I was in a mood.

“Men fucking suck,” I grumbled aloud.

“Not all men,” a deep voice interrupted my peaceful moment.

My eyes flew open, and my sights landed on the bartender with the toffee complexion, chiseled jaw, and goofy-ass look on his face. My cheeks heated under his gaze. I tried to look away, but the intensity of his eyes, or the intensity of my rage, kept us both locked in.

“Did I say that out loud?” I wondered.

With two long strides, he was standing directly in front of me with his arms crossed over his broad chest. I couldn’t help but notice how his biceps flexed at the movement.

His smile grew as he nodded. “You did. And as a man, I’m offended.”

“Well, take that up with the rest of your gender,” I griped.

“Come on, don’t be like that.”

I eyed the bearded man warily. “I’m not being like anything.”

“Do you want to order something? If you order another drink, maybe no one will notice you got stood up.”

I glowered at him and his annoyingly perfect smile. “Who said I got stood up?” I snapped.

He put his hands against the bar and leaned toward me. “You’ve been checking your phone and the door since you got here.”

“Why are you watching what I’m doing?”

“It’s my job to notice things.”

“It’s your job to pour drinks.”

He let out a chuckle and leaned a little closer. “What’s your name?”

Glaring at him, I didn’t immediately say anything. “Aaliyah,” I finally answered.

“Aaliyah,” he repeated, stretching out each syllable.

I readjusted myself on the stool and swallowed hard. A slight frown pulled on my lips. I was annoyed by how sexy it sounded as it rolled off his tongue.

I shifted my gaze for a moment, and when our eyes met again, he smirked.

“I’m Ahmad.” He took a step back. “Are you going to order another drink, or are you going to keep taking a seat away from actual customers who want to drink?”

I looked around dramatically, opening my arms wide. “What customers?”

Onyx was a new bar conveniently located across the street from my luxury apartment complex downtown. It had only been open for a week, and the word hadn’t spread about the place yet. There were maybe ten people in total in the building—including the bartender, a waitress, and someone hiding out in the back office.

“It’s still early,” he argued. “Most people don’t start coming in until after eight o’clock.”

I checked my phone. “Well, it’s eight o’clock now.”

“Just wait,” he assured me. “This place will be packed.”

As if on cue, the front door swung open, and two women walked in hand in hand.

“Are these all the customers you’re waiting on?” I asked sarcastically.

“Yep,” he replied with a smirk. “And it doesn’t look like either of them is the date you’re waiting on.”

I sucked my teeth. “Asshole,” I muttered under my breath.

Digging into my bag, I grabbed my wallet. When I saw that I never broke the hundred-dollar bill that I’d gotten from the ATM, I was even more frustrated. I wanted to throw my money on the bar and storm out. But I refused to give that man an eighty-dollar tip.

I watched him at the other end of the bar as he took the drink orders of the two women who had just entered. Shifting my gaze away from him, I stared at my reflection in the mirror that covered the wall in front of me.

What am I doing?

I’d spent two and a half hours finger coiling my thick hair. I wore a mauve dress that fit my full figure like a glove and complemented my rich mocha complexion. I wore black strappy heels that pinched my pinky toe but made my ass look incredible. I moved up my appointments, so my wax, nails, and eyebrows were fresh. All for a man that never even bothered to show up.

My phone vibrated and I startled. Seeing Nina’s name dance across the screen immediately relaxed me.

“Hello?” I answered.

“What do you mean he hasn’t shown up yet?” she shouted, replying to the text I sent her a few minutes prior.

“My coworker’s friend hasn’t shown up, and I’m about to leave,” I told her. “This was a waste of time, energy, makeup, and an outfit.”

“I’m sorry. Screw him. And honestly, screw your coworker, too.”

“Yeah, I should’ve never agreed to go.” I sighed, closing my eyes again. “I just wanted to meet someone, hit it off, and ring in my birthday with a man.”

“And you still can. One man’s fuckup is another man’s opportunity. Write that down. That’s quotable.”

“Oh my God.” I let out an amused groan. “I’m serious.”

“I’m serious, too! Do you want a boyfriend, or do you just want a man for your birthday to prove your family wrong?” Nina asked.

“Both,” I answered. “I mean, I don’t want just anyone. And I don’t want my first or second date with the guy to be my birthday party. I’m turning thirty. I’m trying to celebrate and then go to the house and get my back blown out.”

I opened my eyes to find the bartender staring at me. I wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there or if he had heard me, but it didn’t matter. After he called me out on being stood up, I had already decided that I was never setting foot in that establishment again.

“You don’t need a boyfriend to do that,” she pointed out.

“The way I’m trying to do it, it would be best if he was my man,” I replied as I watched Ahmad walk over to help another customer.

She laughed. “I feel you. Well, listen, forget tonight. There’s a lot that can happen in eight weeks.”

“Technically seven because my party is on the eighth week.”

“There’s a lot that can happen in seven weeks,” she corrected.

“I haven’t had a boyfriend in almost three years, so the idea of me finding one this summer feels like a bit of a reach.”

“Yeah, but now you’re actually willing to try. All year, all you did was complain that you hate dating and refuse to go out.”

“I do hate dating. And tonight is a perfect example of why.”

“Being stood up sucks, so let’s forget tonight. Go somewhere else and regroup. I already know you look good. Go to a new spot and let the men come to you. This could be a blessing in disguise. Maybe he was a troll and that’s why your coworker didn’t want to show you a picture. Maybe he saw you and left because he knew you were out of his league. Maybe he doesn’t know how to parallel park and couldn’t find a spot. Whatever the case, you look good and you’re already out! I’m proud of you. And I’m glad you’re back. I need you in these streets with me to take some of these men off my hands. So we’ll go out when I get back and we’ll meet some guys. Hell, if all goes well, I’ll get back early enough for us to go out tomorrow night and Sunday night. We could end the weekend right.”

I laughed lightly. “Thanks, Nina. I hope I’m not interrupting your hair appointment. I didn’t text you so you’d call. I just wanted you to know I’d been publicly humiliated. You okay? How’s the hair looking?”

She laughed. “You haven’t been publicly humiliated. No one knows what happened tonight but us. And for all that asshole knows, you didn’t show up for the date either. It’ll be like it never happened.”

“Thank you, girl. I needed that.”

“Anytime. And I’ll call you later tonight if I can.”

“I’ll be up,” I promised before we said our goodbyes.

With a sigh, I dropped my phone back into my bag. I looked down the bar for Ahmad so I could pay for my drink.

His tall, muscular frame stood at the far end of the bar. It was clear he was engaged in a conversation with a woman who was clearly flirting with him. She was laughing hysterically, sticking her tongue out a lot, and pushing her breasts up every chance she got. He was admittedly handsome, and some of the jokes he’d made were moderately funny, but nothing was as funny as that woman was making it out to be. I couldn’t see his face, so I just stared at the back of his sponge-curl fade. And as if he could feel my eyes boring into him, he turned to look at me.

With a quick word to the woman, he seemed to conclude their conversation. As he headed toward me, he rubbed his hands down the front of his shirt, and I noticed the black band on his left hand.

“Is that a wedding ring?” I blurted out.

He gave me a look. “Uh, yeah, it is.”

I drew back, surprised. “Oh!”

He appeared to be thirtysomething, so I shouldn’t have been shocked he was married. A lot of people were married by thirty. My lips turned downward as my mother’s and uncle’s words infiltrated my thoughts, reminding me of how I was not in that percentage.

“Why was that your reaction?” he wondered.

“It’s… Never mind.” I paused for a second, shaking my head. “It’s a long story. But I’m ready to pay my tab.”

He took the large bill from me and held it up to the light, inspecting it. Once he verified it was real, he brought me my change. “You want a little advice?”

“No,” I answered, putting my money back in my wallet.

“I don’t know why you got stood up, but I do know why you didn’t get approached while you were in here.”

“Because there are no people here?” I guessed.

“And you called me the asshole?” He let out a chuckle under his breath. “No, Aaliyah. It’s because you don’t look approachable.”

“I don’t take advice from random men,” I informed him. But I didn’t get up and leave. Something about the way his brown eyes pierced mine held me in place. “What do you mean I don’t look approachable?”

“You’re a beautiful woman—an asshole, but a beautiful woman.” He moved out of the way so I could see my reflection in the mirror wall. “But look at the way you’re sitting. You look like you’ll knock the head off anyone who talks to you.”

“And I will.”

His eyes danced with amusement. “I believe it.”

“It’s not safe for women to be alone or inviting or approachable.” I shook my head. “But I wasn’t trying to look inviting or approachable, because I was supposed to be on a blind date.”

He clapped his hands together. “I knew it!” he exclaimed loudly. “I fucking knew you got stood up!”

I stared at him, my mouth agape. “Wow.”

“Oh nah, my bad. I just…” He nodded. “You’re right. That was fucked up.” His lips turned downward in a contemplative manner, and he tried to look serious. “Maybe he’ll show up in the next few minutes.”

“I don’t like for my time to be wasted, so it doesn’t matter if he does show up now. He’s almost an hour late.”

“Oh, shit, an hour? Yeah, he ain’t coming.”

I curled my lip in disgust. “Glad to know this is the place to come to when I want to be kicked while I’m down.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll kick you while you’re up, too.”

Begrudgingly, my lips turned upward. “You’re not funny.”

He pinched his pointer and thumb together. “I am. A little bit.”

With my head, I gestured to the right, in the direction of the woman he was speaking to earlier. “Don’t let your friend hype you up. You’re not that funny. I don’t see it.”

“You know what I don’t see?” He gestured to the empty barstool beside me. “Your date.”

My mouth dropped, and a stunned laugh coughed out. “I think I officially hate you.”

“I’m just fucking with you,” he said, amusement dripping from each word. “But serious question: Why the hell would you go on a blind date?”

I sighed loudly. “I don’t even know. My thirtieth birthday is in a couple of months. I’m having a party at one of the houses over on Dowdy Lake—”

He let out a low whistle. “A house on Dowdy Lake? That’s nice.”

“Yeah. I’m having the dress-up dinner party portion to kick it off, and then the sun will set and we’ll roll into the real party,” I told him proudly. “I’ve been planning this for a year. I always envisioned having a date for it. But as of last week, I need to have a boyfriend for this thing.”

“That’s…” He shook his head and let the sentence trail off. “Why?”

“Why do I need to have a boyfriend?”

“By your birthday,” he clarified.

I sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“Okay, but”—he twisted his face into a frown—“a blind date?”

“I know,” I groaned. “I know.”

He looked bewildered. He opened his mouth to say something, but a customer ran up to the bar a couple of feet away from me.

“Give me a second,” he told me, tapping the bar and moving toward the woman.

“Can I have another straw, please?” she asked.

“Of course,” Ahmad replied, grabbing one from behind him and handing it to her.

“I have another question.” The woman tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned closer to him. “Um, well… are you single?”

“No, I’m married,” he responded. “Happily.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said kindly. “I appreciate you asking.”

She giggled and then turned and left.

I tried to look away before he noticed.

Ahmad made his way back over to me and folded his arms over his chest. “So, what’s got you out here going on a blind date to find a man before your thirtieth birthday?”

I didn’t plan on ever seeing him again, so I told him the truth. “I told my family I would introduce them to my boyfriend at my birthday party and have my Cinderella moment,” I admitted. “But there is no boyfriend, so now I have to produce a man and prove that I’m not the problem child they think I am.”

“So, they think you’re a problem because you don’t have a man? Not because of your attitude or your personality or your general disposition?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m going to write a terrible review of this place online.”

He laughed. “I’m just trying to understand what’s going on.” He straightened his face and tried to look serious. “So, let me guess—you’re the only child not married and without kids?”

“Something like that. Which to them means I’m behind the curve or some shit.” I made a face. “A boyfriend leads to a husband, and a husband leads to kids.”

“And you think a boyfriend by your thirtieth is going to stop them from being on your ass about being behind?” he guessed.

“Yeah.”

For a while anyway.

He gave me a long, contemplative look. “Then instead of blind dates, you’d be better off trying TenderFish.”

It was my turn to frown. “I don’t like dating apps. They aren’t safe.”

“You are stubborn, I see.”

I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips.

“You just don’t like the idea of getting on TenderFish because I suggested it,” he stated.

“I don’t like the idea because it’s not safe.”

He balked. “How is it any less safe than you meeting someone you’ve never seen before? Not only that… meeting someone you’ve never seen before in a bar by yourself.” He quirked an eyebrow. “I’ve seen some shit in my lifetime. You can’t trust some of these men out here. Especially the ones you don’t know.”

“You can’t trust some men you do know,” I countered.

“So, what are you doing?”

“He came recommended by a coworker. So, at least someone I know knows he really exists.”

Ahmad’s brown eyes widened as he pointed to the empty seat beside me. “Who? Him?”

I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing. “You think everything is a damn joke.”

“Just hear me out…” He grabbed a shaker and started preparing a drink. “Create an account. Check out what’s out there. And don’t ever do this blind date shit again.”

“The people I know who are on the apps always complain about the creeps on there.” I made a face. “They meet some decent ones, too, but it’s mostly creeps. It’s not safe.”

“It’s not that bad,” he scoffed.

I lifted my head and narrowed my eyes at him. “That’s that male privilege. As a man, you don’t have to think about all the things that could go left on a date in the same way as I do. Could you be set up and robbed? Yes. But outside of that, what do you really worry about on a date?”

He thought about it for a minute, pouring the mixed concoction into a glass. “Okay.”

“And being fat, being Black, being a woman… all these things make it a little more complicated to date and feel safe.”

“Well, what would make you feel safe?”

I shrugged. “I don’t even know,” I admitted. “But I’m scared of meeting a guy and him attacking me. I’m scared of someone slipping something in my drink. I’m scared of being assaulted. I’m scared of having phone chemistry, but no in-person chemistry. I’m scared of talking on the phone with a guy for weeks to get to know him and then meeting him and not being attracted to him. I’m scared of—”

“Okay, I get it,” he interrupted. “I never really thought about it like that, but you’re right. That’s some heavy shit.” He slid the drink he’d just prepared in front of me. “Here. It’s on the house.”

I touched the glass, sliding it closer to me. It was the exact same drink I’d had earlier. “Thank you.”

He wiped his hands on a towel and then tossed it back down. “You’re right. There are situations I don’t have to think about when I go on a date that you do. And you’re right, that’s bullshit. So instead of worrying about the things you can’t control, focus on controlling the things that you can.”

“Like…?”

“I work here every Friday night. Set the dates for Friday nights and meet them here. I’ll watch your back and make sure no shady shit happens.”

Holding his gaze, I lifted the drink to my lips. After taking a sip, I cocked my head to the side. “What’s in it for you?”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Why would you help me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He turned away from me to take the order of the man who had just walked up.

I watched him as he grabbed various bottles and started putting a drink together. Unsure of why I trusted the man who had been roasting me for most of my time there, I pulled out my phone and downloaded TenderFish. Once I filled in the preliminary questions of my name, date of birth, gender, sexual orientation, and email, I switched to my photo album and selected a picture of me smiling.

“Oh, wow,” Ahmad commented, leaning over the bar.

My eyes darted up, catching him staring at my phone. “What?”

“You’re smiling. You’ve been frowning the whole time you’ve been here; I didn’t realize you knew how to smile.”

“I smiled when I first walked in here,” I replied. “Back when I had hope.”

He made a face. “Yeah, okay.” He pointed to the phone. “Finish your profile. I’m going to go take care of them.”

While he did his job, I lost myself in creating a bio that quickly and succinctly summed up who I was and what I wanted.

“Damn, you put your blood type and your credit score in there?” Ahmad joked as he approached me. “Why were you over here writing a novel? What did you put in your bio?”

I balked. “I just said a little about me and what I want. Now it’s asking for my celebrity crush.”

“Let me guess…” He squinted at me. “Your celebrity crush is probably Shaw Lockwood.”

“From that superhero movie franchise? The one who just got arrested for fighting on set? That everyone’s been calling mean and problematic?” My face twisted and my lip curled in disgust as the sexy yet troubled star came to mind. “You think my type is mean and problematic?”

He nodded. “You look like you like ’em mean. You know what they say… birds of a feather flock together.”

I rolled my eyes. “And your celebrity crush is probably—”

Before I could get my joke off, he interrupted me. “India Davis.”

Oh!

I loved India Davis. Her music resonated with my soul.

Because I had nothing bad to say about one of my favorite artists, I snapped my mouth closed.

“India Davis is the woman of my dreams.” He beckoned to my phone before crossing his arms over his chest. “Now, let me hear what you put in your profile.”

“No!”

“Come on…”

Once I’d added three additional pictures, my profile was complete. I shook my head as I hit Save and officially entered the world of online dating.

Even though he didn’t ask me again with his words, he stood there, silently begging.

I could use the feedback from a male perspective.

I took a long sip from my glass before I relented. “Fine.” I cleared my throat. “I’m an intelligent, communicative IT professional with no kids. I like to have fun, so karaoke sessions, museum trips, attending concerts, going skating, traveling the world, and trying new adventures are examples of great dates to me. Likes to drink, but no drugs. Likes dogs, but no pets. Likes sex, but no hookups. My ideal date is one that is planned for me with me in mind. So, if you are an honest, loyal, straightforward, funny, smart, thoughtful, single man with a successful career who knows how to plan a date, let’s connect!”

When I looked up at him, there was a confused look on his face.

“What?” I asked. “What do you think?”

“I don’t think anyone is going to read all that.” He lifted his shoulders. “I mean, they might. Your pictures are fire, so they might…”

“So, you think I should change it?”

He shook his head. “If you think all of that is important for someone to know before swiping on you, then I guess you should keep it. But… it’s a lot. I know I wouldn’t read all that, but I’m sure someone will.”

“What did yours say when you were on it?”

“Drug-free, disease-free, drama-free.” He shrugged. “The app already had my age, education, and career posted. Everything else could be discussed in conversation.” He gave me a look. “Short, sweet, and to the point.”

“What would yours say now if you were looking?”

“Thirty-two-year-old professional looking for my match. Drug-free, disease-free, drama-free.” He smirked. “So basically the same thing as back then.”

I put my phone down and picked up my drink. “So you think mine is too much?”

He laughed. “That’s not exactly what I said.”

I groaned. “And this is why I didn’t even want to do this. How did I let you talk me into it?”

“Because it’s a good idea,” he explained. “And you said you wanted a boyfriend for your birthday and your big lake party, right?”

I nodded, finishing my drink. “Yeah.”

“Well, this is going to be your best bet.” He gestured to me. “Because you’re not the friendliest in person.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

He made a face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Ahmad, how many times did you ask me if I was waiting for someone? You knew I was, and you saw that no one showed up. Why would you keep asking me?”

“I was checking in on you.”

“Yeah, maybe the first time.”

“Okay, then after you had an attitude, I just did it to get under your skin.”

I shook my head and frowned. “What kind of person does something like that? A sociopath?”

He chuckled. “In my defense, there wasn’t much else going on to amuse myself.” He gestured around the bar. “As you pointed out, there weren’t many people here, and you were the only one sitting at the bar.”

“Then use your time to clean glasses and wipe down your work area. Don’t use your free time to harass me!”

He scratched his beard with one hand and gestured to my phone with the other. “And that’s why I’m doing a good deed by helping you now.”

I pursed my lips. “Mm-hmm.”

“I’m righting my wrongs.”

Amusement forced my lips upward. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious. Forgive me.”

“I do not forgive you,” I told him.

“Yeah, you do. I can see the stress leaving your body.”

“If anything, I’m more stressed because of you.”

“Then why are you smiling?” he asked teasingly.

“Because you’re ridiculous.”

“Nah, it’s because I’m the man with the master plan.”

I got off my barstool. “Yeah, I’m leaving. And then you’ll be down to nine people in here.”

He chuckled. “Go home and swipe. I’ll see you Friday.”

“You might. There might not be anyone on the app.”

“Well, there wasn’t anyone here either, so it’s worth a try.”

My jaw dropped. “I think I hate you, Ahmad.”

With a grin, he winked at me. “Back at you.”

Laughing, I adjusted my cross-body bag. “I can’t believe you said that.” I looked around dramatically. “Where’s the owner?”

“My father is at home.”

“Ah, I see how you got the job. It all makes sense.” I nodded. “Nepotism.”

Snickering, he shook his head. “Just try out the app and see. Report back on Friday.”

“I might,” I replied, turning on my heel and walking toward the exit. “Goodbye.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” he called to my back as I left Onyx Bar.

“Famous last words…” I muttered as I walked across the street to my building.