Chapter 16 Protection
Protection.
Watching paint dry would be more interesting than whatever the hell this white man was saying to me.
Esther better thank God I loved her because she had the worst taste in men.
What was her type? Big, muscular idiots who never matured past college. That was her weakness. The kind of guys who still high-fived after sex, wore too much cologne, and smiled constantly like they were expecting a surprise photoshoot.
The kind of guys who needed hype-man for a simple date.
She met this one through his publicist. Esther did her nails, and now she was convinced I needed to suffer through an evening with his scrawny little friend, the friend whose sole purpose in life was to boost his ego. This whole thing was a set-up.
Esther was a squirrel looking for a nut, and I was just the unfortunate bystander forced to entertain his equally dull sidekick.
I sighed and glanced across the table at Ethan. He was talking to the waiter, taking forever to order a cocktail. Once the drinks were ordered, he flashed me a polite smile.
“So, Ellie, what’s it like owning a salon?”
“Busy.”
The word came out blunt, short, and dismissive.
Across the table, Esther cleared her throat dramatically. That was her way of telling me to be nice. Fine. I could pretend to be interested.
“What about you? What do you do for work?” I asked to get him talking about himself, even though I was well aware.
“I’m in PR.”
“Oh. Okay. Do you like it?”
And as soon as he started talking, I tuned out. I shouldn’t have come here. I could be in bed right now, binge-watching something with a glass of wine in my hand.
Or sleeping on El’s chest again like he offered.
I inhaled sharply.
No. Nope. I wasn’t thinking about that.
I forced myself to nod along with Ethan as if I were following, but my mind was elsewhere. Specifically on a certain man who didn’t bore me to death.
El hadn’t called, though I wasn’t sure why I expected him to.
Maybe I thought he’d try to change my mind again. Show up at my place with that smug little smirk and a bag of takeout. Or maybe I figured he’d at least text me, some passive-aggressive, “Hope you’re having fun.” message that I’d pretend to ignore but secretly overanalyze.
But nothing.
I pushed a fry around my plate, barely paying attention as Ethan went on about some branding campaign he’d worked on. Every now and then, he’d throw in some vague compliment about me—how ambitious I was, how “artistic” it must be to work with hair, how much work must go into looking the way I do.
I kept smiling and nodding, but in my head, I was somewhere else.
What was El doing?
He had nights off, so he wasn’t working.
Was he at home? Out with friends? Maybe he was on his own date with someone who didn’t make him jump through hoops just to spend time together.
The thought left a sour taste in my mouth. Thankfully, the drinks arrived just in time.
“You good?” Esther asked under her breath.
“Great,” I said, taking a sip of my Long Island iced tea and forcing a smile.
She didn’t buy it, obviously. But she let it go.
Ethan was completely oblivious, though. So he kept talking, and I kept stirring my drink, nodding along like I cared. He was still going on about his job—something in PR, something about branding, something about image.
“You know, presentation is everything,” he said, tapping his fingers against his glass. “Especially for women. I mean, I’m sure you get it, owning a salon and all.”
“I do. A lot of women care about appearance.” I added, finally paying attention.
He nodded along. “Exactly. Black women always have to be so put together all the time.”
I paused and tilted my head slightly. “Put together in what way?”
“You know,” he said easily. “Like, always done up. Hair, nails, lashes—the whole thing. It’s crazy.”
Esther took a long sip of her drink.
“Oh, yeah?” I repeated, swirling my straw in the glass.
“Yeah. Just… a lot goes into it. I dated this girl once and she wouldn’t even leave the house without doing her edges first. Always had to be on.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t know how y’all do it.”
I could feel Esther watching me, silently asking me to keep my cool. She was nervous, but I was truly interested. This was just what I needed to put the cherry on top of tonight: A White man’s unwanted opinion on Black women.
I let a slow, easy smile cross my lips. “I mean, it’s not something we have to do.
Some women just like to achieve a certain look.
It’s the same way some men like to spend their weekends lifting weights and getting haircuts every two weeks.
We all just wanna be happy when we look in the mirror at the end of the day, right? ”
His smile faltered just a little. “Yeah, but with men, it’s different.”
“How?”
“Because…I mean, guys don’t really have to do all that. Women kinda have to, you know?”
Esther suddenly cleared her throat. “So! The food here is great, right?”
I ignored her. “Have to? What do you mean?”
Ethan shrugged. “It’s just how it is.”
I took a slow sip of my drink, sizing him up.
“So, what’s your preference?” I asked, feigning curiosity.
“Me?” He smirked. “I like a natural look. Nothing too extra, you know?”
Esther visibly winced.
“Interesting,” I said. “ Well, I guess we aren’t gonna work out, huh? Because I have a full set, a silk press, and probably ten different products on my face right now.”
Ethan blinked like he just realized where he’d stepped wrong. “I didn’t mean you specifically—”
“Right.” I picked up a fry from my plate and popped it into my mouth, chewing slowly. “You just meant Black women in general. Got it.”
He opened his mouth to explain, but I smiled and went back to my food, leaving him stuttering like an idiot.
I knew one thing for certain: this clown would never represent my salon.
?
“Okay, folks. Your bill has been covered for the evening. Thank you so much for dining with us.” The waiter announced as he greeted the table one last time.
Esther’s eyes darted to the waiter, before her face scrunched up in confusion. “Covered? By who?”
The waiter simply nodded in the direction of the bar, and all our gazes followed.
Oh, no.
Lounging at the bar with a drink in hand, his smirk practically visible from across the room. I froze.
“Is that…?” Esther trailed off, but I was already up before she could finish.
“I’ll be right back.”
I walked off, not bothering to wait for her to respond. My steps were sharp, my pulse quickening as I made my way to the bar. El didn’t even look up at first, only taking a slow sip from his glass before finally meeting my eyes with that infuriating, cocky smile.
“I didn’t know you were into white men, Ellie.”
I couldn’t stop the irritation from flaring in my chest. “Seriously, El? This is so inappropriate.”
He raised an eyebrow, playing innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just enjoying a drink at the bar.”
“How’d you even find me?”
His smirk deepened. “Coincidence.”
I narrowed my eyes, folding my arms tightly across my chest. “Don’t play with me right now, Elliot. How?”
He shrugged lazily and took another sip, clearly enjoying every bit of my frustration. “You actually shared your location with me earlier today instead of sending the location.”
Damn it.
“So you decide to follow me here?”
“I told you I didn’t want you to come.” He said it with that tone. The one that suggested he was getting under my skin on purpose.
“It’s not your decision to make, Elliot.” I felt my voice sharpen with the edge I always kept hidden beneath.
He didn’t flinch, just took another sip of his drink, watching me like a hawk. “You enjoying yourself?”
I exhaled through my nose. “Not particularly, but I—”
I paused. I was about to say something else, but the last thing I needed was to get caught up in another one of his games. “Hey. Do not change the subject! You can’t stay here.”
He smirked again, unbothered. “Oh, well.”
I leaned forward slightly, trying to make my point, but he didn’t budge. “I’m being serious.”
“I was serious earlier today, too.” His eyes locked on mine, intense, challenging.
“That was different.”
“No, it wasn’t.” He was calm, but there was something dangerous underneath. “We’re both in places we shouldn’t be. This is what you wanted, right?”
No fucking way.
“Are you really gonna be this petty?”
“Yep. I really am.” He leaned back into his chair, looking far too pleased with himself for my liking as he sipped his drink. “You look really nice, by the way.”
His eyes scanned me slowly, from head to toe, taking in every detail like I was some sort of prized cattle. The way he looked at me made my skin feel exposed. Then he leaned in just a little, his voice dropping. “Are you not wearing panties?”
I froze for a split second, caught off guard by his bluntness. But, knowing him, I shouldn’t have been.
How the hell could he even tell?
“I never wear panties with dresses,” I explained.
His eyes widened slightly, his breath catching for just a moment, but he quickly masked it with that cool, calculating look I was so used to by now. Then he leaned back, eyes still on me.
“Go tell them we’re leaving.”
“What?”
There was no playful smile or hint of him joking, just that intense look that made my stomach flip. “Go back to the table, thank them for the evening, and tell them I’m taking you home.”
“Absolutely not, Elliot.”
He eyed me. “Want me to do it?”
I crossed my arms. “I’m not leaving with you.”
Chuckling briefly, finishing the last sip of his drink before placing the glass down and standing up. He was already stepping forward, closing the distance, and I barely had time to react before his hand wrapped around my wrist. He wasn’t gentle, either. He didn’t give me a chance to argue.
Without another word, he dragged me back to the table, and I didn’t put up much of a fight.
“Goodnight, everyone. My name’s also Elliot. I’m one of this Elliot’s friends.”