Chapter 5
Five
REESE
He’s insane.
Not in the way that Benedict is, but insane, nonetheless.
I stare at my earnings from his last ride. I wasn’t even aware a rider could get back into the app and adjust their past tips, but apparently you can.
Did he google that? Does he adjust his Uber tips often?
I switch back to his message with my heart beating too fast. I’m not a woman who gets impressed by a hefty bank account. I’ve been there, done that.
However…if Malaki is going to tip me this well for a ride, I’m not sure I can say no. I may be independent, but I’m not stupid. The more money I have in my bank account, the more prepared I’ll be for Benedict’s lingering ultimatum in the back of my mind.
If he is serious about taking me to court for custody, I’ll need a lawyer—a good one.
Part of me wants to believe it’s an empty threat, but the second I think Benedict has moved on and is going to leave me be, he materializes out of thin air.
Another message comes through.
Malaki
Are you ready to go?
My cheeks fill with air, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
I don’t know how long I argue with myself over whether or not to take the bait, but suddenly, there’s a tapping on my window, and I spring my eyes open. A bloodcurdling scream erupts from my mouth at the same time my phone flies out of my hand, landing in the backseat.
Through the passenger window, I see Malaki’s flirty grin staring back at me. My fear switches to annoyance in an instant.
I roll the window down with my heart flying through my chest. “Don’t do that!”
His grin widens. “Jumpy much?”
“You try being a female Uber driver on the streets of Chicago,” I mumble.
Despite wanting to refuse him a ride, I unlock the door. I angle my back toward him when he opens it, but the rich scent of his cologne fills my senses anyway.
He smells so incredibly good.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be Ubering,” he says, drawing out his words like he’s a father disappointed in his daughter's choice of employment.
I snap my attention to him. “I don’t really have a choice.”
The hours are flexible, and all you really need is a driver’s license. It’s not like I’m able to get hired somewhere that is flexible and pays decent with a half-finished college degree.
Silence settles between us, his gaze roaming all over my face, like he’s trying to read me or something. I have every urge to turn away, and I should. Except, he leans in close, and all I can focus on is his cologne.
What is he doing?!
Why is he so close to me?
And why am I not moving away?
I stop breathing in an attempt to snap myself out of the hypnosis his cologne is putting me in, but it doesn’t work.
He leans in even closer, and I feel my lips part. Malaki gulps, the deep dip of his Adam’s apple moving slowly against his neck. Warmth sprinkles against my skin, and I realize right away that my desperation runs deep. Malaki is practically a stranger, and yet, I’m longing for him.
He isn’t even touching me, and somehow, I feel him everywhere.
“Here,” he says, voice husky.
“Huh?” I mutter.
Malaki’s eyes shoot down to the small space left between us. His hand is there, palm up, with my phone in it. Heat rushes to my cheeks as reality settles back in.
He’s just trying to give me my phone!
He must’ve grabbed it while I was stuck in a fantasy land with a knot in between my legs from just looking into his eyes.
I jerk backward.
“Oh. Thanks.” I quickly reach for the traitorous device, and our fingers accidentally brush. A line of fire shoots up my arm, and I freak out. I fumble my phone, and it goes flying—again.
“Are you okay?” he asks, a line of worry digging in between his eyebrows.
“I’m fine,” I rush out. “Let’s just go and get this over with.”
Malaki chuckles and settles back into his seat.
He adjusts it, sliding it backward, just like he did the other night.
It wasn’t until I was hauling Charleigh’s car seat into the backseat that I had noticed, which then led to me googling how tall he was.
Two hours later and I had a full background on Malaki Young.
He’s from Manhattan. Only child. No father was listed, just a mother who died several years ago from breast cancer.
He signed a hefty contract with the Chicago Blue Devils and is currently in the running for MVP of the year.
He finished college with a degree in political science before being drafted into the pros on a third-round pick.
Impressive? Sort of.
It sure puts my unfinished fashion and marketing degree, single mom who is Ubering to make ends meet self to shame, that’s for sure.
I’m driving for a total of five seconds before Malaki’s smooth voice fills the car.
“Two hundred?”
I briefly glance at him to see if he’s talking to me or if he’s on the phone. He’s looking directly at me.
“Two hundred what?” I ask, bouncing my attention back and forth between him and the road.
“Is that how much you make in a night?”
This again?
I focus back on the road to hide how uncomfortable I am talking about money.
I hate that I’m ashamed.
I’ve been poor all my life—a bottom feeder, a few dollars away from the electric being turned off and freezing to death, hand-me-down clothes with holes and stains until I finally learned how to sew in the third grade.
It’s even worse because I know Malaki is well-off, just like Benedict, and he never held back from making me feel like shit for my financial burdens.
“Two hundred fifty?”
I remain quiet.
Malaki hums. “Two seventy-five. Final answer.”
I trap a laugh behind my lips. He sounds like he’s on some type of game show.
“Going once… going twice…”
The laugh slips out, and I give in. “It just depends,” I admit. “When you guys have a home game?” I shrug. “Around that, yeah.”
Silence fills the car again, my shame filling the air with a heavy stench. I glance out of the corner of my eye and see Malaki fiddling with his phone.
Is he texting someone?
Is he meeting some girl at the club?
Ugh, why do I care? I hardly know him!
I have more important things to worry about, like how I’m going to balance everything while raising an eight-month-old on my own, support my sister, avoid Benedict and his bribes, find a better job…
My spiraling thoughts pause when my phone goes off. I quickly scan the screen and gasp. My foot slips to the brake, and we stop suddenly, my car jerking.
Malaki’s hand shoots out to the dash to steady himself while the other comes across my chest to do the same to me. “Whoa, girl. Need me to drive?”
“Why did you just tip me five hundred dollars?!” I exclaim, ignoring his forearm pressed against my breasts.
Once Malaki removes his arm and places it on the center console, I start driving regularly again.
“Now you have a reason to get off work early.” He shrugs, almost sounding bored. “You can come hang out with me at the club. Daisy is there too.”
My thoughts are all over the place, and I try to find something reasonable to say. As much as I want—and need—the five hundred dollars, I cannot accept it. I’m not a charity case, even if I hear Benedict’s voice inside my head, telling me those exact words more often than not.
“I’m not hanging out with you at the club,” I argue. “And I can’t accept that much money.”
“Why can’t you?” he asks. “And yes, you can.”
I scoff. “Because!”
“You can’t hang out with me because why? Because you have to work? I just paid you more than what you’d typically make in a night, right?” He pauses, and I’m pretty sure he’s waiting for me to agree with him.
I make a left turn, my heart beating faster and faster the closer we get to the club he’s going to.
“Should I tip you even more?” he asks.
“No!” I exclaim.
I glance at him as I park my car beside the curb, my eyes dropping to his lap. He’s messing with his phone again, and I panic.
“Fine!” I blurt, reaching for his phone. I put my hand on top of it, our fingers brushing again. “I’ll go”—for a second—“just stop paying me.”
His chuckle is irritating and addictive at the same time. He’s so proud of himself for winning.
How this night started off as a regular night of work and ended at a club with the most persistent man I’ve ever met is beyond me.
I angle toward him after shifting my car into park, the light of my dash illuminating the side of his face. Malaki’s triumph nearly suffocates me.
“This is not a date,” I remind him.
It doesn’t take long for his cheek to curve on one side. I drop my attention to his mouth, and fuck my stomach for flipping.
“Okay, Dimples…” His voice is as smooth as butter. “Friends?”
I narrow my gaze before eventually giving in. “Fine.”
He outstretches his hand in between us for me to shake. I stare at it like I’ll be trapped for life if I place my palm in his, but I have a feeling I won’t be getting out of this car until I surrender. So, I gingerly peel my fingers off the steering wheel and give in.
The moment our palms touch, sparks fly to my hand. I manage to keep the shock off my face, but my nerves are fried. The small space we’re tucked in crackles, and I pray it’s all in my head.
“Not a date number two… here we come.” He winks at me before removing his hand from mine.
We both open our doors with an eagerness that is hard to deny. Though Malaki is probably just excited because I finally gave in to his persistent attempt to hang out with me, I’m rushing to put space between us because his smirk does wild things to my body, even if my head is refusing to admit it.