CHAPTER 14
The moment I see Axel walking toward me is the moment I regret telling him to meet me out here. The walk is sick. The bearded face is sick. The swag is sick. The outfit is simple, yet it looks so fly on his tall stature and athletic body. His hazel eyes look low and piercing beneath that cap. The whole look is giving everything it’s supposed to give.
My goodness. I can’t break my trance with him. Doing so would make my eyes upset. That’s just how fine he is.
“What’s up?” he asks as he approaches me.
“Nothing. Just standing here waiting for you.”
He looks me up and down, then says, “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks,” I say, looking down at myself. I’m wearing a pair of black leggings, a fitted black low-cut blouse, and gold and black sandals.
“So, what’s this place?”
“The Promenade is a place that has a lot of different venues all around,” I say, walking. He falls into stride beside me. I continue, “There are restaurants, ice cream shops, bookstores, bars, escape rooms—it has everything.”
“Nice. We have something similar in Bridgeport. I never got a chance to visit, though.”
“Why not?”
“Work.”
“Work? You must’ve been working for more than one complex?”
“Uh…no. It was just a lot of work,” he says.
“Oh. Okay.”
“So, what were you meeting your friend out here for?”
“Dinner.”
“And this friend wouldn’t mind that you’re out here with me?”
I grin and answer, “No.”
I know I’m not answering his question, and I love it because he’s been trying so hard to determine what my relationship status is. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing. That’s what men do all the time, right? Keep their various relationships under wraps? Having one woman thinking she’s the only woman when she’s really one of a few. Yeah, he looks like that type. Definitely.
“Have you eaten?” I ask.
“No. I worked hard today. I preferred sleep instead of food, so I can definitely eat now. Any good spots out here?”
“Yeah. I was going to go to Canteen. They have the best barbecue salmon tacos.”
“That sounds different.”
“They’re really good if you want to try them.”
“Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”
We head in the direction of the restaurant and once we arrive, he forges ahead of me and reaches for the door before I can grab it.
“Not this time. We’re not at Atlantic Properties. I get to open the doors now.”
“Thank you,” I say, biting back a smile as I enter. We’re quickly shown to a table and as we settle, he looks around the place.
“So—you said everything went well at work?”
“It did.”
“Did Mauricio ever show up?”
“No, but it’s all good.”
When the waitress comes by, I order a mango vodka cocktail. He gets a shot of Jack Daniels.
When the waitress walks away, he says, “You need a drink to talk to me?”
“No. Saturdays are the only days I usually have a drink if I have one at all. I’m not into drinking and alcohol and all that.”
“Then what is Zimyra St. Claire into?”
“Working.”
The waitress returns with our drinks. We order our food and then, as soon as she walks away, I take a sip. Axel throws his shot back and says, “Ah…there it is.”
I giggle. “Spoken like a true alcoholic.”
“Nah…not my speed. I’m a social drinker. I only indulge during my free time.”
“I don’t have a lot of free time,” I say, holding his eyes. I see the moment he narrows them.
He asks, “Why must you be so elusive with me?”
“Don’t feel bad. I’m always like this with strangers.”
“I didn’t think I still fell into the stranger category any longer.”
“You do.”
“Then how do I get out?”
I shrug. “Time.”
“So, you need to spend more time with me?”
I suppress a smile. “No.”
“But you just said—”
“I know what I said, but this is dinner. I’m your boss. I cannot be friends with you. This has to be a strict working relationship.”
“Why?”
I take a sip to evade his challenging eyes, then answer, “Because that’s the way it is. You know how this goes.”
“Okay, so I don’t know what to talk to you about then, since you’re adamant about us not even being friends.”
“Don’t ask me questions about my personal life.”
He grins and shakes his head. “Dang. I should’ve ordered a double shot.”
I laugh while staring down at my glass. When I look up at him, there’s a serious expression out of nowhere on his face. It gives me pause – makes me forget that I’m breathing for a split second, too. This man is peering into my soul, seeking access to something he shouldn’t have access to. I shouldn’t be surprised. That’s his M.O. He has a habit of wanting to know things he shouldn’t.
He asks, “What do you do outside of work?”
He’s a man who loves a challenge, I determine, since he’s defying my request by asking me personal questions after I just told him not to. It also makes me wonder why such a man would settle for a career doing menial blue-collar work. Does he not have any further ambition? Don’t get me wrong – there’s nothing wrong with blue-collar work. It’s just that he doesn’t give me the vibe that this is the full extent of his capabilities.
“Zimyra.”
“Oh,” I say, snapping out of my head and back to reality. I say, “You’re waiting for an answer on something I told you not to ask me.”
“That wasn’t a personal question.”
“It was. You asked me how I spend my time outside of work. If that’s not personal, I don’t know what is.”
“Okay…since you won’t tell me, I’ll guess. You like to sew, bake pies, and dream about little parties you can throw for the residents at Atlantic.”
I chuckle. “Those first two things sound just like my mother.”
“She bakes?”
“Yes—the best pies you’ll ever taste. And she likes to crochet as well.”
Our salmon tacos arrive right on time because this lil’ alcohol is doing nothing to tame the rumble in my stomach. I take a bite right away. “Oh,” I moan. “This is so good. Mmm. Oh—”
“Do you always moan when you eat?”
I glance up at him and smile, quickly grabbing a napkin to cover my mouth. “No. I’m just hungry.” After I finish chewing, I decide to answer his question and say, “Outside of work, I like to spend time with my family. They are the most important people in my life.”
“Do you have a big family?”
“Uh…yes?”
“You’re not sure?”
“Okay. I have my mother, my brothers, my cousins—we’re all pretty close.”
“No sisters?”
“No. I have two older brothers—twins—and yes, they’re overprotective. If they knew I was here with you right now, I’d get the third degree, and so would you.”
“That’s nothing for me. I live for the third degree,” he says, then takes a bite of the taco.
I bet you do.
I say, “So, one’s a doctor. The other is a firefighter.”
“And they say twins are alike. Their professions are on opposite ends of the job spectrum.”
“Right. They’re nothing alike, and I mean nothing. They’re identical in looks, yes, but their personalities are not.”
“I take it they have a history of harassing your boyfriends.”
I glare at him.
“I wasn’t suggesting that I was your boyfriend. It was just a question.”
“They like to vet whoever I talk to.”
“But that works both ways, right? You didn’t do the same for them?”
“For Zander, I didn’t have to. He married his best friend, Alyssa. They’d known each other for years. Shoot, she was already a part of the family before they even decided they loved each other—you know—like that . And as for Zavier, he met Nykendy when she brought her son into his practice one day and, as they say, the rest is history.”
“That’s the little boy you were babysitting this morning.”
“Yeah.”
“So, he’s Zavier’s stepson?”
“Yes, and no. Zavier has never referred to Kaden as his stepson even though that’s who he is. I can attest to the attachment Zavier has to Kaden. I’ve never seen him that way with another child. So, in answer to your question, Kaden is his son. I think he loved little Kaden before he fell in love with Nykendy.”
Axel nods. “And then there’s you.”
“Yep. Then there’s me.”
I take a sip of my vodka drink, close my eyes, and vibe out to the music along with the effects of my beverage. It has me mellow and calm as I sway my body to the rhythm. Even with my eyes closed, I can feel Axel’s eyes on me.
“When was the last time you were here with your friend ?” he asks.
I open my eyes only to be met with that powerful, unyielding, dominant stare from him again. I shrug and say, “Maybe three weeks ago. Do you have any family down here?”
“No.”
“Here’s what I want to know about you,” I say. “How did you decide to relocate here with no job lined up?”
“I had a job lined up. It fell through.”
“Where?” I asked, challenging him because I have a hunch that he’s lying. Personally, I wouldn’t move if I knew the job I was relocating for wasn’t a sure thing, and that’s exactly what it sounds like he did.
“It was at Parks and Rec.”
“Why did it fall through?” I continue probing.
“It just did,” he answers.
He takes a bite of his second taco and says, “These are the truth.”
“Told you. I already devoured mine.”
While he eats, conversation ceases. I return to dancing and humming and after a few minutes of this, I feel an arm wrap around my neck from behind and then I hear, “Whattup, girl?”
I smile wide and ask, “Who’s that?”
When he loosens his grip, I turn around to see that it’s my cousin Jeremiah.
“Hey, Jeremiah!” I jump off this high barstool-style chair to give him a proper greeting. I wrap my arms around his thick torso and squeeze, then ask, “What are you doing out here?”
“Hanging out. If I knew you were coming, I would’ve picked you up.”
“Aw, that’s sweet.”
“You look nice.”
“So do you. I see you haven’t missed the gym any.”
He flexes his muscles and says, “Nah. I stay on that grind…gotta keep up with Zander. Ay, who’s your friend?”
I was so excited to see Jeremiah, I almost forgot Axel was sitting with me.
Axel speaks up and says, “I’m nobody. Keep on talking and pretend I’m not sitting here.”
Jeremiah frowns.
I look at Axel sideways. I know his demented sense of humor, but my cousins don’t tolerate it, especially from somebody they don’t know.
I tell Axel, “I’ll be right back.”
I have to get Jeremiah away from this table because, like my brothers, my cousins don’t play ‘bout me. If Jeremiah thinks Axel is disrespecting me in any way, there will be a fight up in here. I’m sure he’s already going to tell my brothers he ran into me with some dude, and I’ll have a ton of questions to answer: Who is he? What’s his name? Where is he from? Who are his folks? Are y’all dating? Where does he work? What is he doing with his life? Have you looked into his background? The questioning will be endless – like those Congressional hearings where people are pointlessly grilled for hours on end.
After we’re near the bar, Jeremiah asks, “Who’s that cat?”
“He’s just somebody I work with.”
“Why I ain’t never seen Somebody I Work With ‘round here before?”
“He’s not from here, Jeremiah. He’s from Connecticut.”
“I don’t like him.”
I don’t mean to find amusement in his wariness, but I do. It’s so typical. I say, “Of course you don’t like him. You and my brothers don’t like anybody I talk to. But, let’s not make this about him. How’s Uncle Joshua, Aunt Naomi, Jaysant and Jacob?”
“Good. Everybody cool.”
“I’ve been meaning to put something together for us all to hang out. I’ve just been so busy with work stuff.”
“Yeah. I see…” he says and then turns around to look at Axel.
I grin and say, “I wasn’t talking about him.”
“I can’t tell.”
I shake my head and feel a tightness budding in my stomach at the thought of Jeremiah telling Zander he saw me out kickin’ it with someone. Lord help me…
I say, “Perhaps I can convince Zavier to let me use his backyard to plan a cookout or something.”
“That’ll be cool. Just don’t bring work with you.”
I’m blushing and smiling at the same time when I say, “Jeremiah, he’s not that bad.”
“All men are bad, Z, including me, my brothers, and your knucklehead brothers.”
“Bad in what sense, though?”
“In the sense that when we set our eyes on the woman we want, we go after her with everything we got. If you think ol’ boy over there ain’t got that on his mind, you’re wrong. When I walked up, he looked at me like he could kill me, but he don’t want this kind of smoke. I can assure you of that.”
“Okay, settle down,” I say, patting him on the back. “Let me get back over there. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay, girl. I’m heading out. If you need me, hit me up.”
“Will do.”
“Be safe.”
“You, too, Jeremiah.”
I hug him again, then head back to my table. Axel’s gaze burns holes through my skin as I approach. Ignoring his blatant gaze, I sit down and resume eating. I know he’s full of questions, but I don’t say anything for a moment. I let him stew before saying, “I’m sorry—what were we talking about?”
“I was talking about how good the food was, but let’s not gloss over the fact that you didn’t want to introduce me to your friend.”
“I have my reasons.”
“Is he who you were meeting? If so, don’t let the nobody stop you from having a good time.”
“Okay, chill, Axel. You’re the one who referred to yourself as a nobody .”
“That’s because you didn’t introduce me. If someone approaches me, I would properly introduce you. If I don’t, that means you’re a nobody.”
“Timeout—are you joking right now?”
He glares.
I guess he’s not joking.
I say, “Okay—Jeremiah is my cousin. My mother and his father are brother and sister. I didn’t introduce you because I didn’t want him to think this was a date or something because surely he will tell my brothers, and then I’ll get interrogated about you. That’s probably what’s going to happen anyway, but that’s what I was trying to avoid.”
“By not introducing me.”
“Yes.”
“You’re that afraid of your family.”
“It’s not fear—it’s the fact that if I can avoid certain things, then that’s what I do.”
I take a breath and say, “You know what—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s cool. Just don’t let it happen again.”
I smile at his insinuation and ask, “And who am I supposed to introduce you as?”
“Your friend,” he replies.
“Okay, friend .”
He takes a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and places it on the table.
I say, “No, please allow me,” I say, digging in my purse for my bank card.
“That’s insulting.”
“How so? I invited you out here. That means I cover the bill.”
“That may be what you do with your girls and all, but when you’re with me, I will never allow you to do anything like this. At work, that’s your kingdom. You open doors and all that. Fine. Out here, it’s my world.”
“You say that like you’re sure we’ll do this again.”
“We will. I can feel it.”
I laugh. “If you say so.”
When we step out of the restaurant, he peeps at his watch and says, “It’s still early. What else can we get into?”
“It depends on what you’re into. I know they have a game room down here somewhere. How about a game of table hockey?”
“Oh, you don’t want to see me at table hockey, sweetheart.”
“I think I do,” I tell him.
Men think they’re better than women at everything. I’m going to show him a thing or two.
“Ah’ight.” He says, “If I win, I get to ask you all the questions I want and you have to answer them.”
“Oh, heck no!”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Where’s all that confidence you had a moment ago?”
“Oh, I’m confident. I’m just not agreeing to answer all your questions. At the most, you can get two, and if I win, I get to ask you two.”
“Bet.”
We step inside and walk over to the table. He’s eager to get started because I know at least one question he’s been dying to ask me, which means he’s going to try his best to win by any means necessary.
The game begins. We have five minutes and whoever scores the most points wins. So far, I’ve scored four to his zero.
I say, “Looks like I got this in the bag.”
And as soon as those words leave my mouth, he scores.
“Crap!”
“Yeah, keep doing all that talking and see what happens,” he says. “Boom! There goes another one.”
“Okay. Let me concentrate. You’re trying to distract me.”
I aim for a shot and he successfully blocks it, but I don’t block his shot. It goes right in.
“Yeah! Let’s go, baby!” he says, amped.
And then he makes another one. The machine stops. We’re tied four to four, and the game is over.
“What are the odds that this would end in a tie?” I ask.
“Are we breaking the tie, or does that mean we get two questions a piece?” he asks.
“Yes—two questions each. You’re too competitive for me.”
We leave the game room and meander through the night crowds – not necessarily going anywhere – just talking and walking.
He says, “So, ask me a question.”
“Hmm…okay. What’s the real reason you moved down here?”
“The real reason?” He lets out a low chuckle. “I told you already.”
“I know what you said , but I don’t necessarily buy your story. You don’t look like you do maintenance. Your hands are not scratched up and you just don’t give off the scruffy, maintenance man look.”
“Wow.”
“I mean, I’ve worked with multiple maintenance workers and you don’t fit the description. You just don’t.”
“Okay, well, I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
I find a bench and take a seat. He sits beside me, but not too close.
I angle my body toward him and ask, “You’re not going to tell me?”
“I’m here to work, Zimyra. Now, I have a question for you.”
“Okay. What’cha got?”
“Who were you supposed to meet here tonight?”
Smiling, I ask, “How did I know that would be the question? And why are you so concerned?”
“Just answer it.”
“I was supposed to meet Capri, my best friend. Are you happy now?”
“I am.”
“Does Capri make it a habit of canceling at the last minute?”
“No, and she had a good excuse.”
“Which was?”
“She got engaged tonight, so—”
“How does that make you feel?”
I snicker. “Who are you? My therapist?”
“No, but I can see that you feel a way about it.”
“Well, of course I do. I’m losing a friend.”
“You’re not losing anything.”
I shake my head. “When single people get married, they don’t have time to hang out with their single friends. As a matter of fact, today just may be the end of our friendship.”
“I think you’re taking this a little too far.”
“I’m not. Do you have close single friends back home?”
“Yes.”
“If they got engaged, you would feel the same way I’m feeling right now. It’s like the end of an era. The people who know you—who you had the time of your life with—are now about to get married, have babies, and their lives become completely different from yours. It’s the same way with my brothers. I’m close with my family, but since my brothers got married, it’s like I’m the odd one out.”
“You could always embrace the journey with them and your friend. Besides, it’s not like you’ll never get married. You’re too beautiful to be single.”
I grin and say, “That’s an awful thing to say.”
A grin spreads across his face. “How? It’s a compliment, Zimyra.”
“It implies that I should be married because I’m pretty. I’m more than my looks.”
“Trust me—I’m highly aware of that, and I’m not gassing you up. You are an amazing woman. Any man is lucky to be in your presence.”
“Well, thank you, Axel. That’s a sweet thing to say.”
“You’re welcome.”
I inhale the night air and close my eyes to take it all in. I smell the aroma of food. I hear people having a good time. I feel the warmness of the breeze against my cheeks.
Axel asks, “Was that two questions for me already, because I have more?”
Opening my eyes, I say, “Sorry. You don’t get any more. You’re being greedy. I still have one to ask you.”
“Which is?”
“Why are you single?”
“Y’all women love that question, don’t you?”
“So do y’all men . You asked me the same thing in a roundabout way. Now, it’s your turn.”
“Let’s see,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “Why am I single?”
Amused, I ask, “You don’t know off the top of your head?”
“I do. I’m single for some of the same reasons you are. I’m satisfied with my life the way it is. I go and come as I please. There’s no one there asking me where I’m going, who I’m going to be with, or when I’ll be back. I’m free to do me.”
I nod because I know where he’s coming from. “I get that, but don’t you ever wonder how that life would be when you get older? The reason I’m asking is because I think about it often. You’re right—no one is there to ask you where you’re going and all that, but when you get sick, no one is there to ask you if you’re okay or if you need something.”
“That’s true.”
“I feel like men can easily hold out on trying to find that person, but for a woman, for me, it’ll change and soon, I might add.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I want a family. A husband. Children. I want all of that. I don’t have the luxury of waiting until I’m in my late forties to decide that I want a family. My eggs will be powdered sugar by then.”
He grins and asks, “How old are you, Zimyra?”
“Sorry,” I say standing. “You’re out of questions for tonight.” I stretch and say, “And I have to get going. I’m meeting my sisters tomorrow for brunch.”
“I thought you didn’t have sisters.”
“My brothers’ wives. They’re my sisters.”
“Ah. Gotcha.”
“Yeah, and I need to be well rested so I can be prepared to talk about you.”
“About me?”
“Yes. You met Nykendy. I know she’s going to say something, and who knows the damage Jeremiah has caused already.”
“He just saw you with me tonight.”
“Trust me—that’s all it takes.”
“Alright. I suppose I’ll let you go, but save some time for me tomorrow. I get two more questions.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
I shake my head. “You must be an only child.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because you can’t take no for an answer.”
“You never said no .”
“Okay, well, it’s the way you’re persistent—the way you practically demanded that I give you a job and now, you’re finagling your way into asking me two more questions.”
“Do you know why I’m persistent, Zimyra?”
“Why?”
“Because it works. You should know. You’re the same way.”
There’s nothing I can say to refute that statement. All I do is smile.
As we approach my car, I say, “Well, it’s been real. I hope you’ve enjoyed your time out here at The Promenade.”
“I’ve enjoyed my time with you at The Promenade, and I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.”
“You won’t see me tomorrow, Axel, but definitely on Monday at the office.”
“We’ll see,” he says, then reaches to shake my hand.
I reach to accept his grasp. He squeezes my hand in his and while I don’t think he’s applying pressure, I feel it. Boy do I feel it. His hands are strong. He’s strong – mentally and physically. He’s a force to be reckoned with.
When he releases my hand, he opens my car door for me and says, “Drive safe.”
“You do the same.”
He closes the door and I start the car with my heart pounding. I haven’t felt this level of excitement ever. Is this what it feels like to date? My goodness. How does the heart contain this kind of exhilaration?