Chapter 4
I chuckled as I returned to my room to wait for Khiya. When I checked in, I’d planned to order room service and chill for the night, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her and the soothing sound of her voice. I was surprised she couldn’t sing, but I could listen to her talk all day.
In the dim light of the hallway, her cinnamon-brown skin glistened, and her almond-shaped eyes were surrounded by lavish lashes. Her hair was cut into a bob, framing her face perfectly, and I could hardly fight the temptation to kiss her full, round lips that were covered in a shiny gloss.
I wanted to see her again and didn’t want to miss my opportunity, in case the weather broke, and we were able to fly out tomorrow. It was a long shot, but I took a chance and invited her to dinner. Admittedly, I was surprised she’d agreed.
While I waited for her, I watched one of the sports news channels.
I wasn’t paying close enough attention to know what or who they were talking about.
My mind was on Khiya and why I felt so drawn to her.
I’d never felt an attraction this strong to anyone, and surely not upon our first meeting.
Light taps on the door pulled me out of my thoughts.
I turned off the television and headed to the door.
When I opened it, Khiya stood a few feet away wearing a black zip-up hoodie and black sweats.
On her feet were a pair of Cortez Nikes, and I had no idea why that made me smile.
She had one hand in the pocket of her hoodie, while the other held onto the strap of a small purse on her shoulder.
“You look good,” I said.
She looked down at her outfit before responding.
“Umm, it’s just some sweats, but thank you. Are you ready?”
“Yeah.”
I stepped into the hallway, pulling the door closed and making sure it was secure. Neither of us spoke until we were on the elevator after I’d pressed the button for the main floor.
“Is this your first time in Denver?” I asked.
“Yes, but I guess I won’t get to see much of it.”
“It’s a beautiful city. Maybe you can visit when you’re off the clock.”
“Maybe.”
The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. I let Khiya exit first, then fell in step next to her. When we arrived at the restaurant, we waited to be seated. A few minutes later, the host led us to a small table for two, gave us each a menu, and let us know the server would be with us shortly.
“So, I’m guessing this isn’t the first time you been to Denver,” she said as she looked at the menu.
“Nah. I’ve been here more times than I can count for work, and a few times for leisure. I’d be happy to come back with you and show you around.”
“Slow down, buddy. We don’t know each other well enough to make those kinds of plans.”
“Maybe we can change that.”
I kept my eyes on her to observe her reaction to my forwardness. Although she blushed, she didn’t look away.
“We’ll see.”
The server arrived and took our drink orders. She ordered a Marble Espresso Martini, and I ordered a High West Smoked Old Fashion. We also ordered crab cakes and twice cooked chicken wings for appetizers. When the server left, we looked at the menu for a few more minutes to choose our main course.
“I usually don’t eat after six, so I don’t want anything too heavy,” she said.
“Their salads are pretty good.”
“Yeah, I think I’ll get the grilled salmon salad. What about you?”
“I’m not as disciplined as you, and my schedule is usually kinda crazy, so I tend to eat whatever, whenever. I was thinking about getting the braised short rib, but you’re making me think twice.”
She raised her hands in surrender.
“Hey, don’t let me stop you from doing you. Get what you want, and I promise not to judge. Besides, in my experience, men don’t hold onto weight the way women do. One trip to the bathroom, and it’ll be like you never ate it.”
I laughed because she wasn’t wrong. In my younger days, I worried less about what I ate because my metabolism was high. As I approached forty, I notice it had slowed down a bit, and I had to work a little harder to maintain my fit physique.
“That only applies to men thirty-five and under. I’ll be thirty-eight in a few months, so I do have to be mindful. How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Thirty-three. When I hit thirty, it felt like my body had been switched out with an alien’s. I can’t imagine what’ll happen when I hit forty.”
“I wish I could tell you nothing will change, but I’ve witnessed my mother’s aging, and although she’s aged gracefully, she’s definitely experienced some changes.”
“Same. I’m not looking forward to perimenopause or menopause, that’s for sure.”
“Hopefully, you have a while before all that. Are you sure you can’t sing? I can’t get over your beautiful voice.”
“I’m positive. I mean, my singing doesn’t sound like someone is scratching a chalkboard, but I don’t sound good enough to be in the studio either.”
I laughed at her honesty, but I wanted to hear her sing for myself and make my own judgment.
The server returned with our drinks and appetizers, took our meal orders, and disappeared again.
I reached across the table for her hands and asked if she minded if I blessed the food.
She responded by taking my hands, so I proceeded with a short blessing before we took a few minutes to enjoy the appetizers.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but what made you decide to become a flight attendant at thirty-three?”
“Long story short, I got fired from my job and didn’t know what to do next. I overheard someone talking about being a flight attendant, and after a little research, I went for it.”
“Did you apply at all the airlines?”
“No, actually. When I read that Sable Airlines was Black-owned and ninety-five percent of the employees were Black, I didn’t want to apply anywhere else. It wasn’t smart to put all my eggs in one basket, but I did a lot of praying, and God came through.”
“I guess I should be thanking Him.”
She blushed as a smile graced her lips, and suddenly, I felt compelled to do everything I could to keep her smiling.
“Why should you be thanking Him?”
“I think you know why, but if you need to hear me say it, I don’t mind.
When I saw you standing against the wall in the corner of the elevator, I thought I was looking at an angel.
When you spoke, the sound of your voice soothed me in places I didn’t know needed soothing.
I’d planned to stay in my room and order room service, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you.
I wanted to see you and hear your voice again. I didn’t want to miss my opportunity.”
“Oh . . . okay. I, umm, I wasn’t expecting you to say all that.”
“I’m very straightforward, and I’ve never been one to beat around the bush. I’m attracted to you because you’re a beautiful woman, but it’s more than attraction. I feel drawn to you.”
“Really? After a one-minute interaction?”
“Maybe even less than that.”
Our eyes remained connected for a moment, and she broke first, focusing on her plate.
“If that’s the case, tell me about Sylas. Where are you from? What college did you attend? How long have you been a pilot?”
“Are you sure you want to hear all that?”
“Whatever you feel like sharing.”
“My full name is Sylas Jefferson McCoy. As I’ve said, I’m thirty-seven.
My birthday is May 27th. Taylor, my younger sister, is thirty-four, and she’s married and currently pregnant with my first nephew, which I’m excited about because I don’t have any children.
My parents have been married for forty years and are enjoying retirement.
I was born and raised on the southside of Chicago, but I live in Oak Brook because it’s closer to the airport.
I graduated from Southern Illinois University, the best school in the state, and I’ve been a commercial airline pilot for twelve years, though I’ve been licensed longer.
Oh, I almost forgot the most important detail . . . I’m single. Any questions?”
“I can’t think of any right now, but I reserve the right to revisit this conversation.”
“I got nothing to hide, beautiful. You can ask me anything, anytime you feel compelled. Right now, though, tell me about Khiya.”
“It seems we have something in common.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“I went to SIU too.”
“No shit.”
“No shit, and so did my brother. You may actually know him because you were probably there at the same time.”
“What’s his name?”
“Blaine Reid.”
“You fucking with me.”
“I’m not. Do you know him?”
“He’s a friend of a friend. I met him through my boy Jamal, and we kicked it often back in the day. It’s been a minute since I’ve seen him, though. How’s he doing?”
“Good. He’s been married for a few years, but no kids yet.”
“I think I remember hearing he got married, but enough about him. I’m here to learn about you.”
There was that smile again that I’d already grown to love.
“I guess I’ll follow your lead. My full name is Khiya Elizabeth Reid. I won’t be thirty-four until November 19th. My parents have been married for thirty-eight years, and they aren’t retired yet. I’m from Waukegan, but I live in Gurnee, and I’m single.”
“You’re damn near in Wisconsin.”
“I’m about twenty minutes from the border. You ever been?”
“I went to Six Flags a few times in my teen years, but I’ve never had another reason to visit until now.”
“You’re very presumptuous.”
“Nah. I’m very honest.”
“Since you’re so honest, tell me why you aren’t married.”
“That’s easy. I haven’t found anyone worthy enough to be my wife.”
“Why do you think that is?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea. I date, like most single men, but none of the women I’ve dated have panned out.”
“Have you ever thought that maybe it’s you and not them?”
“Actually, I have. Seventy-five percent of it is me. My career can be a lot for someone who doesn’t understand. I guess I didn’t have strong enough feelings for anyone to make any changes.”
“You guess you didn’t?” she questioned with raised brows.
“I didn’t.”
“At least you’re honest about it. I appreciate that.”
“I told you I was honest.”
“How long was your longest relationship?”
“A little over a year.”
“How long ago was that?”
“A few years after I graduated from college. I think I loved her, and she said she loved me, but she hated that I was gone so much. We tried but couldn’t make it work.”
“Wow. That’s kinda sad. Do you feel like you missed out on your one true love?”
I thought about her question for a moment before responding.
“No. So far, flying is my one true love. I haven’t been with a woman who makes me feel as good as flying makes me feel.”
“Wow. That’s kinda deep.”
“Possibly. What about you? Why are you single?”
The server arrived with our food, and Khiya waited until we’d been served to answer my question.
“My ex broke up with me about two and a half years ago, and I’ve been single since.”
“How long were you with him?”
“Two years. I thought he was my husband, but apparently, he didn’t think I was his wife.”
“Life has a way of working things out in our favor. A few years after my ex ended things with me, I found out she was still dealing with her ex, who had cheated on her. They got married and had a few kids, but I heard he never stopped messing around with the woman he cheated with, and he has another family on the other side of town.”
“Damn. That’s messed up.”
I shrugged. “It’s what she wanted, I guess.”
“Yeah. I haven’t talked to, seen, or heard anything about my ex since he dumped me and I walked out of his apartment.”
“That’s not a bad thing.”
“Not at all. Don’t get me wrong, though. That nigga broke my heart. I thought everything was good, and the breakup was unexpected. I had too much pride to ask him what went wrong. He said we weren’t working anymore, and it was best to cut our losses before we wasted any more of each other’s time.”
“After two years? Damn. That’s cold.”
“Tell me about it. I was shocked, but my mama would beat my ass if I let him see me break. I simply said, ‘Okay,’ got up, and left with my head held high.”
“Good for you.”
“I was proud of myself, but when I got in my car and drove a few blocks away, I pulled over and broke down. My brother and his wife, Yandy, came to my rescue. Blaine gave me a pep talk, reminding me who the fuck I was, told me he was a lame as nigga anyway, and I had until daybreak to get all my tears out. Yandy drove me home, spent the night with me, and let me cry on her shoulders. By morning, I was all cried out and ready to move on.”
“That’s a helluva story. I’m glad you didn’t let it keep you down for long.”
“Me too, but what really pissed me off was how right Blaine was. Harlan was really a lame ass nigga, and I don’t know what made me give him two years of my life. But like you said, life has a way of working things out in our favor. Whoever is meant for me is meant for me, and clearly, he wasn’t.”
“Hopefully, his loss will be my gain, but enough about our exes. I want to know more about you. Tell me something you’ve never told anyone else.”
“What? I don’t know you well enough to share something like that.”
“I promise I won’t tell a soul. You can trust me.”
I watched as she contemplated sharing.
“My whole life, I’ve been getting compliments on my voice. So much so, that for a small period of time, in my early twenties, I thought about trying to be a narrator or voiceover actress.”
“Wow. Did you ever pursue it?”
“No. This is literally the first time I’ve said it out loud, and you’re the first person I’ve told.”
I touched my chest with my fist and nodded.
“I feel honored.”
She shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”
“I think it’s a very big deal. You don’t think about it anymore?”
“I didn’t for years until I lost my job, but as you can see, I went in another direction.”
“It’s never too late to try something new.”
“I know, and for now, being a flight attendant is the new thing I’m trying.”
“Understood. Thank you for sharing. I still want to know more. Tell me your favorite things . . . color, food, movie, TV show, book, flower . . . everything.”
She paused as she lifted a forkful of salad to her mouth.
“Are you always this nosy?”
“Not in the least. I don’t usually care to know much about people, but you’re different. I want to know any and everything you’re willing to share.”
“Okay.”