Curvy Girl Summer

Chapter 7

Checking my watch, I rushed across the street before the light changed. My black-and-white-striped dress blew in the wind as I hopped up onto the sidewalk. I wasn’t running late for my date, but I was hoping to get to Onyx before the Friday-night crowd showed up.

“Well, if it isn’t the Hamburglar,” Ahmad greeted me when I walked into the empty bar.

I stopped in my tracks.

For fifteen long seconds, I just glared at him. He had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, and his big, brown eyes danced. With narrowed eyes, I bottled up the laughter that threatened to burst out of me.

“I think I hate you,” I said finally, forcing my feet toward him.

“You know you love me,” he returned with a smirk.

My stomach fluttered unexpectedly. “I don’t.”

“And you know that was funny!”

“You’re a clown.” I climbed up on the barstool. “If it wasn’t too late to meet this guy somewhere else, I’d walk right out of here.”

“Like you did last Friday?”

“What?”

He finished restocking the glasses and gave me a look. “I told you to give me a minute, and you dipped out.”

“Oh!” I shook my head. “Nah, it wasn’t like that. I tried to say goodbye, but you were busy.”

Wiping his hands on the towel he had draped over his shoulder, he stood in front of me. “Well, if I’m going to look out for you, the least you can do is let me know when you’re heading out.”

I felt my lips curling upward under his gaze. “You’re right,” I acknowledged softly.

I opened my mouth to say more, but a group of people noisily entered, disrupting the quiet bar.

He greeted them and then focused his attention back at me. “So, who is the lucky guy you’re meeting tonight?”

“Brayden Storm.”

“Is he a weatherman?”

Confusion twisted my face. “No. Why?”

“Brayden Storm. He sounds like a weatherman.” He changed his voice to a dry, nasally monotone. “Brayden Storm with the weather.”

I rolled my eyes. “You just say anything. No common sense. You just have”—I pointed to my temple—“a couple of beans rattling up there and no filter.”

Still using the voice, he said, “Sounds like a cold front is coming in from that side of the bar.”

I pursed my lips. “I’m not talking to you if you keep talking like that.”

He grabbed a stack of cups and moved them. “Fine. Tell me about this guy,” he said in his normal tone.

“The conversation has been nice.” I pointed at him. “He seems pretty cool. And the best part is that he’s funny.”

“Nah, I’m funny.”

“I assure you, you’re not funny.”

He placed his hands on the bar and leaned toward me. “Then why do you have to try so hard not to laugh?”

“Anyway…” I hid my smile with my hand. “Why are you so dressed up today?”

Stepping back, he looked down at his green button-up shirt and black jeans. “This is dressed up to you?”

“Well, last week, you had a dirty T-shirt on, so this is a vast improvement.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t that bad.”

“It wasn’t, but I just thought about how you called me the Hamburglar and got mad all over again.”

Ahmad chuckled under his breath as he left me to go take the orders of the people who’d just approached the bar. He was back and forth between checking on me and helping the ever-growing crowd. He moved so skillfully and effortlessly as he worked. Every time he would spend a couple of minutes making small talk with me, I felt myself loosening up.

But it wasn’t just me.

He seemed to make everyone around him feel good. I watched the way he spoke to people, the way he smiled, and the way he entertained conversation while making the drinks. He was friendly without being too friendly. Cocking my head to the side, I couldn’t help but notice how he seemed so respectful of his marriage.

I smiled.

And yet another reason why I have faith in finding my person.

Ahmad seemed like a really good man—exasperating, but good.

“Would you like a drink?” Asia asked me, stealing my attention from the other end of the bar.

“Oh, hey!” My voice was a little too loud, and the words came out a little too fast. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Her lips pulled into a taut pucker. “It happens a lot.”

“What?”

“People forgetting I’m here when Ahmad’s around.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “He’s the popular one—especially with the ladies.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s not like that.”

With a smile, Asia took a step back. “Yeah, okay.”

“No, I’m serious,” I argued. “I’m doing my first dates here, and Ahmad’s watching my back.”

“Oh, I’m sure he is.” She winked before turning her attention to the two men who had strolled up next to me. “What can I get for you two?”

She shifted gears so fast, I didn’t have time to defend myself from the assumption she was making.

“We’ll take you and your friend over there in the stripes,” one of the men commented.

I looked over at them in confusion.

Now how did I get in this? I was minding my business.

The shorter of the two flashed me a toothy grin. “I don’t mind taking the fat one.”

“Yeah, well, I mind,” I retorted.

“You’re feisty,” he commented, taking a step toward me. “Say it again. But this time, say it to my face.”

“Get a step stool and I will.”

“Oh, shit!” the taller one snickered. “You’re not going to let some fat bitch diss you, are you, Frankie?”

“Not the guy with the Habsburg jaw talking shit about my friend,” Asia commented.

I burst out laughing, which only made the two men madder.

“We’re leaving this dump,” the short one spat, pulling his friend back.

They started shouting obscenities when she pointed to the door. “Out. Now.”

“What’s going on?” Ahmad asked just as the two men stormed out. “You both okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Asia answered as I nodded.

He looked between us and shook his head. “One minute, I look down here and everything is cool, and the next minute, all hell is breaking loose.”

“Those guys didn’t know how to act, so I put them out. I don’t tolerate that level of disrespect,” Asia informed him. Crossing her arms across her chest, she smiled at me. “But this one right here can hold her own with the jokes.” Noticing someone waiting to be served, she started walking away. “I see why you like her.”

She tossed the comment over her shoulder like a grenade that neither of us were prepared for.

Like deer in headlights, we just stared at each other.

“I might have mentioned that you were cool,” he mumbled before he noticed a woman waiting. “I’ll be back.”

What was that?

Turning my head, I looked into the mirror behind the bar and froze. My eyes locked with the light-skinned, curly-haired man who’d just walked in. The man who looked exactly like his profile picture smiled as he moved toward me. I waited until he was right next to me before I turned to greet him face-to-face.

“Aaliyah, it’s nice to finally meet you.” He extended his hand. “I’m Brayden.”

I shook his hand. “I’m glad you could make it, Brayden.”

“I wouldn’t have missed the chance to meet you for the world.”

A smile played on my lips. “Well, I’ve been looking forward to this all week.” I gestured to the stool next to me. “Have a seat.”

“What are you drinking? I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”

“I haven’t been here that long,” I lied. “I haven’t ordered anything.”

“What do you like?”

“I mostly like fruity drinks. I don’t like to actually taste the alcohol.”

“Hmm. I know just the thing.” He lifted his hand and caught Ahmad’s attention. “Yeah, man, can we start a tab?”

“Yeah, I got you,” Ahmad replied, taking Brayden’s card. “What can I get you?”

“Can we get two Amaretto sours? And add a couple of extra cherries for my beautiful date.”

Ahmad glanced at me before he nodded. “Coming right up.”

“This place is pretty cool,” Brayden acknowledged, looking around. “I’ve never been here.”

“Do you ever hang out in Richland? I know you live forty-five minutes away.”

“No, never.” He licked his lips. “But for you, I’m willing to make the trip.”

Ahmad returned, sliding two glasses in front of us.

“Thanks, man,” Brayden replied, picking up his drink. “A toast?”

I gave Ahmad a small smile before turning my attention back to my date. “What are we toasting?”

“The beginning of something special.”

I cocked my head to the side. It felt like game was being run on me, so I was hesitant as I lifted my glass. “The beginning of something special,” I repeated skeptically.

We tapped glasses and then took a sip.

I searched his face, looking for a tell. But his eyes didn’t leave mine as he swallowed the tart drink.

Our first conversation started in the evening and carried on into the wee hours of the morning. After that, he talked to me on every lunch break he had since we exchanged numbers. After hours, we talked while he was finishing up things in the office. And a couple of nights, we spoke on his entire drive home. And with each conversation, he was attentive and charming. I enjoyed him, but I couldn’t help the little nagging feeling in the back of my mind. I couldn’t put my finger on why, but there was a bit of hesitation with him.

“I knew there was something special about you after our first conversation,” he admitted.

“That was a really good conversation,” I agreed. “Even though you seemed distracted by the end of it.”

He shook his head. “I was working late, and my secretary had messed up some forms for me. I had to send it out before Wednesday’s meeting, and because I didn’t catch the error until after hours, I had to stay even later and work on it myself. But up until I noticed that, you had my undivided attention. Just like every night this week.”

I stirred the straw in my cocktail. “I think I like having your undivided attention.”

His smile grew. “Good. Because I like giving it to you.”

Like he had all week, the man charmed me.

We sat on those barstools nursing our drinks and talking for an hour.

“You can get it,” I told him as he checked his phone for the second time in ten minutes. “I won’t deduct date points if you need to take the call.”

“Nah, work can wait,” he replied, shoving the phone back into his pocket. Turning, he flagged down Asia. “Can we get two more Amaretto sours, please?”

“I got it,” Ahmad told her, coming from the other end of the bar. “Can you take care of the bachelorette party down there?”

I looked in the direction that he was talking about and spotted a group of five women giggling. They were staring at Ahmad as he grabbed two glasses and started making our drinks.

“They’ve had a lot to drink,” Brayden pointed out.

“Who?” I asked, focusing back on my date.

“The women down there with the dick hats.”

I laughed, noticing what they had on their heads. “Yeah, probably so. But that’s the whole point of the bachelorette party, right? Have a good time with your friends for your last hurrah as a single person.”

“Yeah, I guess. But the hats are a bit much.”

I shrugged. “To each their own.”

He looked surprised. “Would you wear something like that for your bachelorette party?”

“If it went with my outfit and my bridesmaids bought it. I wouldn’t buy it myself, but one of my best friends would absolutely buy that and make us wear it.” I smiled, thinking about Nina. “I mean, I could see her requiring us to do that for her birthday.”

He chuckled. “Oh, wow!”

“What about you? Would you wear something crazy for your bachelor party?”

“Oh, hell nah.”

“You wouldn’t go out with your boys with little hats with…” I put my hand against the top of my head and wiggled my fingers, imitating the phalluses emitting from the hats of the bachelorettes.

“I can guarantee you I wouldn’t have dicks on my head,” he balked.

“Ooooookay,” Ahmad intoned, sliding the drinks in front of us.

“Nah, man, it’s not what it sounds like,” Brayden tried to explain.

Ahmad held up his hands and backed away. “No judgment here.”

I cackled.

“It’s not funny,” Brayden said with a laugh.

“It’s a little funny,” I returned. “But seriously, I don’t think I asked if you’d been married before.”

He cleared his throat. “No, I don’t think you did. Yeah, I was.”

Caught off guard, I took a tiny sip of my drink to mask my surprise. “Oh? Was?”

“Yeah. She, uh… she passed away.”

I gasped. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shook his head. “It’s been a long time. But thank you.”

“How long has it been?”

“About three years now.”

“So, when you said you hadn’t been on a date in a while, did you mean since she… passed?”

“No, no, no. I’ve been ready to date for about a year now. But over the last couple of months, I realized I’m ready for something more.” Scooping my hand from midair, he ran his thumb over my knuckles. “Particularly, I’m looking to explore this connection with you.”

My face flushed. And even though his fingertips were no longer brushing my skin, his touch lingered.

For the next forty-five minutes, we sipped and talked and laughed. Brayden was an engaging storyteller. He’d married young, and life had taken them on two separate paths. He said they were happy, and the relationship was strong until her undiagnosed medical condition seized her heart. He took time to work on himself, and then he dipped his toe into the dating scene. He recounted his attempts to date over the last year and his newfound commitment to finding the right woman.

“I believe in intentional dating,” I told him, nodding in agreement. “No games. If there’s mutual interest, compatibility, and both people want the same thing out of the relationship, there’s no reason it shouldn’t be a successful pairing.”

“Exactly,” he agreed.

“Do you feel like you’re being intentional?”

“I do.” He reached out and touched my hand again. “Especially as I get to know you better.”

“You two still doing okay?” Ahmad asked, interrupting the moment.

Brayden let go of my hand and faced our bartender. “Can we get another round?”

Ahmad glanced at me and my still-full glass. “Okay. Would you like to switch it up?”

“No, two of the same,” Brayden answered for the both of us.

Ahmad looked at my glass and then at me. When I nodded, so did he. “Another round, coming up.”

Brayden focused his attention back on me. “The drink is helping my nerves.”

“You’re nervous?”

“Hell yeah. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date with someone and really cared that it went well. I always want the women I take out to have a good time, but with you… with you, I care if you want a second date.” He gestured to me. “And also, you’re fine as hell.”

I didn’t even realize I was grinning until Ahmad placed our drinks in front of us and I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

“Well, rest assured, I am having a great time, and a second date sounds incredible.”

“What’s your favorite type of food?” he asked, picking up his fresh glass.

“Breakfast,” I answered honestly.

A hearty laugh burst out of him.

My jaw dropped. “What?” I wondered.

“I was thinking you were going to say soul food, Haitian food, Italian food, Mexican food, something specific. But you said breakfast.”

“Why is that funny?” I asked indignantly.

He took a gulp of his drink and then grabbed my hands. “It’s not funny. It’s unexpected. Just like all the other things I’ve learned about you.” He looked down at his hands encircling mine before meeting my eyes again. “You are completely unexpected.”

Heat radiated from where he touched me and swept up my arms. “Unexpected in a good way?”

He leaned forward like he was preparing to kiss me. “Unexpected in the best way.”

“Brayden,” a woman roared, startling us apart.

I looked over and quickly located to whom the voice belonged. With brown skin contrasted with honey-blond hair, the tall, curvy woman was beautiful. And had it not been for her narrowed eyes, crinkled nose, and raised upper lip, that beauty would’ve been the first thing I noticed about her. But as her shoulders rose and fell rapidly, I couldn’t stop focusing on the waves of fury that emanated from her.

Brayden dropped my hands, and I looked between the woman and my date.

He was stone-still with his mouth hanging slightly ajar. She was frozen in place with unmistakable rage. And I looked between them in disbelief.

Aw hell naw.

With both her fists balled up, she charged across the room.

I turned my entire body so that I could face her. I wasn’t sure if she was going to try to swing on me or not, but I needed to be prepared. I didn’t know how to fight. More than that, I refused to fight over a man. But I wasn’t going to let someone just hit me without defending myself. Running through the moves I learned in kickboxing class, I prepared to bust out the jab-cross-jab-hook combo.

“What the hell is going on here, Brayden?” the woman yelled.

The conversations that surrounded us hushed. People turned to look. A few even stopped dancing. Only the mellow beat of the music carried over the tense atmosphere.

“I’m sorry,” Brayden whispered before he rose to his feet. “Sierra, uh, what—” He blocked her path. “What are you doing here?”

“You said you had to work late, but your office said you left on time,” she spat. “And since you wouldn’t answer your phone, I used the tracker app.”

“Well, I was just finishing up here. Can we talk outside?”

“Move! Get your hands off me!” the woman shouted as she tried to move around him to see me. “What? You don’t want your date to know you have a wife!”

I balked. “A wife?”

“Yes, I’m his wife,” she reiterated, trying to get around him.

“Come on, Sierra. Chill. I’m meeting with a colleague and—”

“A colleague? Are you kidding me?” she screeched, sidestepping him to point at me. Her hand was only a couple of feet away from me before he pushed her back a step. “You’re lying and saying you’re in a meeting, but you were holding this bitch’s hand!”

“Calling me a bitch is a little uncalled for,” I grumbled under my breath.

“What?” she growled, turning her anger toward me. “You have something you want to say to me?”

I frowned and shook my head. “Nah, you good.”

That bitch looked strong.

“I know I’m good.” She held up her left hand. “That’s why he married me.”

I stared at her in confusion. Well, he asked me on a date and said he was a widower, so he really ain’t a prize, sis.

I lifted my hands. “You can have him,” I assured her. “I didn’t know he was married.”

She glared at him and then looked at his hands. “Where’s your fucking ring?”

He pulled it from his jacket pocket. “I must’ve forgotten to put it back on when I left the gym. You know I worked out after work today.”

“Stop lying, you piece of shit!”

“I’m not lying!”

“How long have you been dating my husband?” She yelled the question at me. Each attempt she made to get around Brayden to get to me, he blocked her.

“This was a first date,” I answered. “Again, I didn’t know he was married. He said he was… single.”

I decided at the last minute not to tell her what he really said. I wanted to avoid making a bad situation worse.

Brayden shot me a look over his shoulder before he faced his wife again. “Sierra, please—”

I gasped as the pop of her hand slapping his cheek reverberated through the bar.

Oh, she’s trying to throw hands for real!

My eyes widened, and I didn’t know if I should get up and leave or be prepared to defend myself.

I was shook.

She reared back and attempted to hit him again.

“Both of you! Out! Now!” Ahmad barked.

The authority in his voice seemed to startle them as much as it startled me.

I didn’t realize Onyx had security until two men that I’d never noticed before appeared seemingly out of nowhere and corralled Brayden and the screaming Sierra out of the bar.

Since the two people who were causing the scene were escorted out, all eyes were on me. A couple of women were whispering and glancing over at me. A man was openly gawking with his friends. An older woman frowned, looking at me in disdain. I even heard someone call me a homewrecker. I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want Brayden and his wife waiting for me. I didn’t like how people were staring at me, but they weren’t going to try to fight me. Unfortunately, staying put was the only option I had.

Exhaling loudly, I turned around on my stool and sighed.

When my eyes met Ahmad’s gaze, I didn’t see judgment or pity. “You good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I sighed.

He slid a Malibu sunrise in front of me. “You sure?”

I smiled appreciatively as he removed all of the Amaretto sour glasses. “Yeah.” I took a sip of the drink he’d just given me. “I’m not worried about him.”

“I’m not talking about him. I’m talking about her—the wife. She looked like she was going to beat your ass.”

My eyes went wide. “Listen! Ain’t no might about it. She would’ve definitely beat my ass.”

He chuckled. “Ol’ boy wasn’t going to let that happen. He was doing basketball drills to keep her from getting to you.”

“If I would’ve told her how he told me that he was a widower, he would’ve let her get me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have let that happen. Can’t let anything happen to that face.”

A smile stretched my lips. “Aww, thank you.”

“Because blood makes me squeamish,” he continued.

My jaw dropped. “You asshole.”

He laughed. “Nah, but for real, if I thought you were in any real danger, I would’ve stepped in sooner. You were always good.”

I lifted my glass in appreciation. “Thank you.”

“I told you, I got you.”

“You did say that.”

“By any means necessary.” He paused for a second. “Wait, he told you he was a widower? So, he killed her off?” He shook his head. “That’s cold.”

“Right?” I put my elbows on the bar and let my head fall into my hands. “And now everyone in here thinks I’m a homewrecker. This dating app shit is the worst,” I groaned.

“Hey. Look at me,” he commanded gently.

I lifted my face and met his gaze.

“Everybody has shit,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but everybody’s shit isn’t on display. Everybody here knows I went on a date with a married man, and so they either think I choose bad men or that I knowingly and willingly date married men—which I don’t.”

“Don’t worry about what anyone else thinks. You know the truth.”

“And you know the truth.”

He made a clicking noise and screwed up his face. “I mean, I know what you told me. But I couldn’t vouch for you.”

I gasped. “Ahmad!”

He laughed. “I’m playing. I got you.”

“You said everyone has shit. Tell me something about you—something real.”

He lowered his voice. “I don’t drive.”

“What?” I scoffed.

What thirty-two-year-old man doesn’t know how to drive?

He was always trying to make jokes.

A look I couldn’t quite place crossed his face.

Is he… is he serious?

“You don’t have a car? You don’t know how to drive? Or…?” I asked carefully, trying to read him.

“I own a car. And I know how to drive. I just… don’t do it,” he explained.

“Why?”

“Long story.”

I eyed him quizzically. “If you want to share, I want to know.”

“Car accident fucked me up a couple years ago.”

The vulnerability in his words gripped me tight. “I’m so sorry.”

I was trying to get information about his dating life, his wife, his marriage. I didn’t expect for him to share about a trauma. And as I sat with it, I realized I felt closer to him because of it.

“Everybody goes through stuff, and then they just figure it out. You had another bad date. You’ll get through it.” He looked over at a man patiently waiting. “What did I tell you?” he asked.

My face scrunched, and I lifted my shoulders. “To give the app a chance?”

“What did I tell you earlier tonight?”

“I don’t know.”

“I told you that cold front was coming.” Changing his voice to that stiff news anchor tone, he added, “And I was right! Brayden Storm, signing off!”

The laugh bubbled up before I could stop it. “You get on my damn nerves.”

Ahmad backed away to go take the man’s order. “Are you going to hang around for a while?”

I picked up my drink and took a sip. “Yeah, for a little bit.”

He smirked. “Good.”