Two
Ace Davis
She was here again. Watching Kema sit at my bar was becoming one of my favorite pastimes. If only she could sit somewhere else. I had this problem when it came to Kema Anderson. I wanted her ass. I had for a little minute too. I just had enough sense not to do shit about it.
Kema was fine. And not regular fine either.
She was the type of fine that made you look twice even when you knew damn well you shouldn’t have been looking the first time.
She was tall for a woman, standing around five-seven, with dark chocolate skin that made my mouth water.
She kept her jet-black hair long and bone straight, split right down the middle, and always had some type of gold in her ears.
I knew because I’d spent more time than I should’ve studying her face.
Especially that little hoop in her nose. But her body? Kema’s body needed to be studied. She was a BBW with thick thighs, wide hips, an ass sitting right, a soft stomach, and big ass titties. Everything soft where a woman was supposed to be soft.
And one thing about a real nigga? I liked my women thicker than grits. I couldn’t explain what that woman did to me, but every time we interacted, I had to tell my dick to calm the fuck down. That wasn’t new either. I wanted Kema the first time Kel brought her around.
And I hated that I wanted her. Not because she wasn't attractive cause she was. I just hated that I wanted her because I knew I couldn't have her. And watching her with Kel pissed me off. The crazy thing was he hadn't done anything wrong at the time.
I was starting to hate him because Kema was his woman. I was mad he got to touch her, kiss her, and leave functions with his hand sitting comfortably on her ass while I could only dream about her.
And for four years, I never said anything, tried anything, or gave Kema a reason to think I looked at her as anything other than my boy’s girl.
But I looked. Shit, I wasn’t blind. I just had boundaries.
Then Kel fucked around and cheated on her.
I still hadn’t decided if I wanted to beat his ass for being stupid or thank him for finally making her single.
Probably both. Not that her being single meant she would automatically become mine but judging by the damn audition she’d been conducting from my barstool all night, Kema had options. Too many if you asked me.
Kema pushed a shot glass across the bar toward me. "Take one with me."
"Kema, I'm working."
"Nigga you own the bar" She said giggling.
I shook my head grabbed a shot glass and grabbed some Tequila. "One."
Her smile widened as I poured us both a shot. "That's what they all say."
We tapped our glasses together and threw them back. Kema barely reacted. Her ass had to be an alcoholic because this shit was horrible.
Twenty minutes later, she had talked me into another one. After the second shot, I switched to water. “Come on, Kema. Bar finna close.” I leaned against the counter in front of her. “Lemme take you home, mama.”
She slowly lifted her head. “I don’t need your help, sir. I’m not drunk.”
Sir. See, this was the shit I was talking about. Why the fuck would she call me sir? My dick didn’t know she was being sarcastic. “Aight, you not drunk, but we definitely tipsy. I still can’t believe I let you talk me into sitting down with you and taking a few shots.”
“I can’t make you do anything.” She slurred the last word just enough to prove my point.
“Shit, you can make me do a lot.”
Her big brown eyes lifted to mine. For a second, she just stared at me, and I stared right back. She had no fucking idea what she did to me. And that was probably for the best. Kema grabbed her purse and slid off the stool. “Just take me home, Ace. I’m sleepy.”
I pushed away from the bar. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do.”
“I could’ve drove myself.”
“No, you couldn’t.”
“Yes, I could.”
“You just told Bri you loved her fifteen minutes ago.”
“I do love Bri.”
“You met Bri six months ago.”
“So? Love doesn’t have a timeline.”
I stared at her. She stared back. “Get your shit, Kema.”
She gasped. “Don’t talk to me like that.”
“Then stop acting like you wasn’t just in here taking shots with the nigga who owns the liquor.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You took shots too.”
“I’m also twice your size.”
“You are not twice my size.”
I looked her up and down slowly. That was another mistake. Her jeans hugged every curve she had, and the fitted top she wore wasn’t doing a damn thing to keep my attention away from her body. “Nah,” I said, bringing my eyes back to hers. “You got a little weight on you but I like that shit.”
Her mouth dropped open. I grinned. “Ace!”
“What?”
“Did you just call me fat?”
“When the fuck did thick become an insult?”
“You said weight.”
“And?”
“And you don’t comment on a woman’s weight.”
“I wasn’t complaining.”
She squinted at me. “Sounded like appreciation to me.”
Her lips twitched. “You get on my nerves.”
“Good. Get your purse.”
“I already have my purse.”
“Then why we still standing here?”
“Because you keep talking to me.”
I chortled. This fucking woman. I grabbed my keys from underneath the register before looking toward Bri, who was wiping down the other end of the bar. “You good closing?”
She glanced between me and Kema, then smiled. I would have to tell Bri about minding her fucking business. All that smiling shit was unnecessary.
“I’m great.”
I knew that look. I mouthed, “don’t start.”
She whispered, “I didn’t say anything.”
Kema looked between us. “What am I missing?”
“Nothing,” I said at the same time Bri said, "Nothing.”
I shot her a look. She giggled and turned away, but Kema was too tipsy to care.
“Bye, Bri!” she yelled.
“Bye, girl. Text me when you get home.”
“She's not driving,” I reminded her.
“I was talking to Kema.”
“I know who the fuck you were talking to.”
“Good night, Ace.”
“Fire her,” Kema whispered loudly as we headed toward the door.
“I heard that!” Bri yelled.
Kema giggled. I shook my head and put my hand against the small of her back to guide her out the bar. I loved having my hand there but I also regretted it. Her body was warm underneath my palm. And the closer I was to her the more I could smell her intoxicating scent.
She smelled good. She always smelled good. Something sweet that I had never been able to put my finger on. Vanilla, maybe. Whatever the fuck it was, I needed her to stop wearing it around me.
Kema stumbled slightly when we stepped outside, and my arm went around her waist automatically. “I got you.”
“I wasn't going to fall.”
“Didn’t say you were. I just wanted to make sure you knew I had you.”
“You grabbed me like I was falling.”
“Would you rather I let you hit the concrete?”
She looked down at the ground, then at me. “No.”
“Then shut up.”
“Stop telling me to shut up.”
“Stop giving me reasons.”
She tried pulling away, but I tightened my arm. “Woman.”
“I can walk.”
“I see that.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“And you drunk.”
“Not drunk, tipsy maybe.”
“Whatever helps you sleep tonight.”
“I’m about to sleep good as fuck.”
My eyes dropped to her. Don’t do it, Ace. I reminded myself. I opened the passenger door to my truck and helped her inside. She settled into the seat before looking down at the running board.
“Why is your truck so damn high?”
“Why you so damn short?”
“I’m five-seven.”
“Exactly, short.”
“That is tall for a woman.”
“Still shorter than me.”
“Everybody's shorter than your big ass.”
I laughed and closed the door. By the time I walked around the truck, she had already reclined my passenger seat. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“I am.”
“I see.”
I started the engine, and Kema kicked her shoes off. “You just getting all the way comfortable, huh?”
“My feet hurt.”
“You been sitting down for the last three hours.”
“Being pretty is exhausting.”
I looked at her. She said it with a straight face too. And honestly her ass was the type of pretty that could get away with saying that kind of shit. Cocky ass. “Can’t argue with that.”
Her head turned toward me. “What?”
“What?”
“You said you can’t argue with that.”
“I know what I said.”
“So you think I’m pretty?”
I pulled out of the parking lot. Here we fucking go. “You fishing for compliments now?”
“I’m just asking a question.”
“You know you fine as hell Kema.”
“That’s not what I asked and being fine and pretty isn't the same thing.”
I glanced at her to see she was watching me. I could’ve played it off. And to be honest I probably should’ve. But I wasn't a liar and I didn't shy away from speaking my mind. So instead, I said, “Yeah, Kema. I think you’re beautiful.”
She got quiet. So I quiet that I had to look over at her. The little smile pulling at the corner of her mouth told me she’d heard every word.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t get shy now.”
“I’m not shy.”
“You acting like it.”
“I’m just surprised.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “You never said anything like that to me before.”
Because you were my best friend’s woman. Because I’d spent four years making damn sure I didn’t. Because if I’d started telling you everything I thought was beautiful about you, I wasn’t sure I would’ve known where to stop. I kept all of that to myself. “You never asked.”
She accepted that answer easier than I did. For the next few minutes, the truck was quiet. I kept my eyes on the road while Kema leaned her head against the window. Then she sighed. “You think I’m stupid?”
My eyebrows pulled together. “Where did that come from?”
"I'm just asking a question. Do you think I'm stupid for wanting a date.”
There was something different in her voice now. She wasn't being her normal playful self. I glanced over. “For Cancún?”
“Yeah.”
“Nah, I don't think you're stupid.”
“Sierra does.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then don’t put words in that woman’s mouth.”
Kema rolled her eyes. “She thinks I’m doing it because of Kel.”
“Aren’t you?”
Her head turned toward me. “No.”
I gave her a look. “Okay, maybe a little.”
I laughed. “Fuck you.”
“Nah, keep going.”
“I’m serious, Ace.”
“So am I.”
She sat up straighter. “I don’t want him back.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“How?”
"Because every time you talk about that nigga, you sound irritated. Not heartbroken.” She stared at me. I shrugged. “There’s a difference.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Exactly.”
“But you still care what he thinks.”
She immediately frowned. “I don’t.”
“Kema.”
“I don’t.”
“Then why did you spend half the night looking for a nigga to take to Mexico?”
She crossed her arms. I had her there.
“I don’t care what he thinks. I care what everybody else thinks.”
“That ain’t much better.”
“I know.”
That answer surprised me. She looked out the window. “I just don’t want everybody looking at me like I’m some sad bitch while he’s walking around with her.”
“Nobody who knows you thinks you’re some sad bitch.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know what I think.”
She looked at me again. “And what do you think?”
That you deserved better than that nigga.
That he was a fucking idiot. That if you’d been mine, cheating wouldn’t have even crossed my mind.
That I’d been wanting you longer than I had any business wanting you.
Instead, I said, “I think you care too much about people who ain’t paying none of your bills. ”
She sucked her teeth. “That was not inspirational.”
“Wasn’t supposed to be.”
“Terrible pep talk.”
“I’m a bar owner, not a therapist.”
“Clearly.”
I glanced over and saw her eyes getting heavy. “You tired?”
“Mhm.”
“We almost there.”
She settled farther into the seat. Then, without opening her eyes, she spoke again. “You know what the worst part is?”
“What?”
“I really loved his stupid ass.”
I didn’t respond immediately. There wasn’t anything I could say to that without saying too much. “I know.”
Her eyes opened. “You do?”
“Everybody knew.”
She smiled faintly. “Embarrassing.”
“Nah, ain't shit embarrassing about being in love and giving you all in a relationship. That's what you're supposed to do.”
I could tell what I said really resonated with her. Kema stared at me. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Why you looking at me like that?”
“You’re nicer than I thought.”
I frowned. “The fuck you thought I was?”
“An asshole.”
“Damn.”
“A fine asshole, but still.”
I almost missed the turn. “Say that again.”
She smiled. “No.”
“You just called me fine.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You definitely did.”
“Must be the lemon drops.”
“Uh-huh.”
The rest of the ride to her house was quiet.
She turned toward the window, but I could see her smiling in the reflection.
And my dumb ass was smiling too. This was dangerous.
Not because Kema was drunk. I wasn’t touching her tonight.
That wasn’t even a question. I pulled into her driveway and put the truck in park. “We here, Kema.”
She didn’t move. I looked over to see she had fallen to sleep. Actually she was knocked the fuck out. I stared at her for a few seconds. Long lashes rested against her cheeks. Her lips were slightly parted, and that little hoop in her nose caught the light from the streetlamp.
Kema was beautiful. And completely off-limits. At least she should’ve been. I got out, walked around the truck, and opened her door. “Kema.”
She stirred. “We home?”
“Yeah. You're home.”
“Mmm.”
“Cmon.”
She held her arms out and I stared at her. “You serious?”
“I’m sleepy Ace please," she responded in a sing songy voice.
“So walk.”
“Ace.”
“What?”
“Please?”
Fuck my life. I reached for her. Kema wrapped her arms around my neck as I lifted her from the truck. And this right here? This was exactly why I needed to get as far away from Kema Anderson as possible.
I had spent years respecting a line I had no business crossing. Kel had been my boy. Kema had been his woman. That should’ve been enough to kill whatever attraction I had to her. But now? She wasn’t his.