Jaheim
The Bloom hadn’t been my first choice, but now I was coming around to the idea that I was wrong.
Before I’d even walked into the bar my night had been ruined.
Well, maybe not ruined, but my date had called to cancel.
And though she claimed a family emergency was the reason, this wasn’t the first time Camille had pulled this.
I was still feeling some type of way about it.
After a long day troubleshooting servers at a client site, I came to The Bloom ready for a drink and a little peace. Suddenly, peace wasn’t the goal anymore; the name of the beauty refusing to tell me hers was.
“Shorty, why won’t you tell me your name? I gave you mine.”
“What do you need my name for? I own the bar, and I think that’s enough information for the night.”
“Oh, so it sounds like I need to come back every night until I get it and everything else I plan to have.”
She shrugged and said, “You miss all the shots you don’t take, baby.”
The wink and smile she gave me brightened the entire room. The intricate, colorful gold teeth in her mouth made me shake my head. She was a fucking vibe, and I could tell.
“What brought you in tonight anyway? And tell me the real reason.”
“Name,” I said, sipping the drink she made me. The night was coming to a close. But I had no plans of going anywhere anytime soon.
She walked off again, and I let her go because I had learned in the last few hours that was how she moved. Never in a straight line when she could take the scenic route.
I watched her move through her bar. Unbothered, easy, running every corner of that room without breaking a sweat.
A man like me hadn't met a woman like her before and I wasn't going to front like that didn't have me reconsidering every plan I walked in with.
All I wanted was a name. I could find out the rest.
I was in IT, both legal and illegal varieties, and this small town was the perfect cover for me. No one would be looking for me anywhere near here if things went wrong. My cousin Beau was the one who put me on to Bloomington, TN, and for the last six months, I had been trying to make it my home.
I’d gotten comfortable and wanted to start dating, and that’s what led me here. I was wondering if I had found my reason.
The bar was thinning out, and I got a good look around. The walls were covered with license plates, pictures of fun times, and some even in black and white. This place had history.
I finished the rest of my drink and stood as she came back through, swinging a set of keys. She glanced at me and took me in once more.
“Liana,” she said, propping the office door open with her hip. “Esme. Come on, baby.”
“Nice to meet you, Liana. Thanks for the drink and the hospitality.”
She almost smiled. Almost. Then a black and white American pitbull came padding out from the back, surveyed the room, surveyed me, and walked directly to my end of the bar. She put her nose on my knee and left it there.
Liana watched that happen and didn’t say a word about it.
I reached down and scratched behind Esme’s ear and looked up.
“So, you need any help closing up?”
“Roya and I handle it every night. I think we can manage.”
“I mean, I’m here, and I don’t mind helping.”
She stopped and looked at me and then at Esme, who was still resting her head on my knee.
“Fine. Now, what brought you in?”
“Truth?”
She stood there with her hand on her hip, lip twisted in skepticism, and I raised my hands.
“I was supposed to meet a woman here tonight for drinks. Got stood up. Crazy, right?”
“Not really, it’s a bar. What woman wants to meet at a bar for the first date? The Bloom at that?”
“Camille, it was her idea. Because my first date was at Palio’s, and she stood me up. I ain’t want that bougie shit, no way.”
Her body language changed, and she rushed away from me to the back. I had no idea what I’d done wrong. When she came back, she was slamming stuff.
“Is this attitude?” I asked.
“Nope, I’m fine.” “Sucks you got stood up. Her loss.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I don’t,” she snickered. “Sorry, that was mean.”
I shook my head, helping her clean tables and put the chairs on top. We finished in no time, making small talk along the way.
“What happened at Palio’s?”
“Huh?”
“Liana, you can’t hide from me. But save it for later. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“I doubt it.”
“I don’t,” I said, stepping outside into the cool April air. Bloomington’s weather was confusing as hell. It had been hot as hell today, but now it was easily in the forties.
“Look, Jaheim, I’m not interested. You seem nice, and any other woman would probably love to give it a go. I just… I just can’t.”
The step caught her and she went sideways, but I caught her before she hit the ground, one arm around her waist, her hand landing flat against my chest. Our eyes met, and neither one of us moved for a second that stretched longer than it should’ve.
“You sure about that?” I said it low, close enough that it wasn’t for anybody but her.
She held my gaze a second too long before looking away and straightening up.
“I’m so clumsy,” she said, clearing her throat. She took a step back, becoming the woman with the policy again right in front of me.
“Hey, it’s okay. I enjoyed my night. I’ll accept that.”
I walked her to her car and helped her inside. She rolled her window down.
“Come back anytime. I’ll feed you.”
“Is that so?” I asked with a shit eating grin on my face.
“Bye Jaheim.”
I tapped the top of her Jeep and stepped back until her headlights disappeared. I’d be back at The Bloom and soon.
Sunday, April 26, 2026
“Jah, you gotta relax, brodie,” Beau said with a sigh.
“Relax for what? Have you seen her?”
“Yeah, and Liana is not going for your bullshit. You a baby to her. I know you know that.”
“Nigga.”
“I’m sayin’.”
“Well, don’t. I ain’t even call you,” I muttered as I found myself right back at this damn bar.
“I called because word travels around this bitch. Ruston mentioned one of the Bloom girls and I already knew what was up.”
“And you still ain’t made a point yet.”
Beau laughed. “Already whipped and you ain’t even smelled the pussy yet. My point is, I never took you for the cougar type.”
“Fuck you, B,” I said, disconnecting the call before he could get another joke off.
I popped a piece of gum into my mouth and shook my head. I hadn’t been able to get Liana Bloom off my mind.
I knew the basics. Divorced from a fuck nigga named Odeal Jordan, who never deserved her. Former probation officer. Owned a bar, the whole town seemed protective of.
Maybe that’s why I was back.
Maybe Beau was right.
By this morning, I knew enough to understand she'd come back to Coupeville to rebuild. The bar license had transferred into her name three years ago, right around the same time the aggravated assault charge appeared and disappeared. Ugly divorce. Ugly ending.
Nothing I learned surprised me. Fourteen years as a probation officer showed up all over her. Listened more than she spoke. I recognized it because I operated the same way.
All in all, Liana had rebuilt her life from the ground up right there in Bloomington, and from what I could tell, she’d done it without asking anybody for a damn thing.
To climb. That’s what her name meant, and after everything I learned, nothing suited her better.
I pushed through the door, and the whole place had settled into that slow afternoon rhythm. Sunlight poured through the front window and stretched across the bar top in long golden strips. A few people sat scattered around the room, keeping to themselves.
Steelo was playing oldies but goodies, which seemed to be her thing.
The air smelled like onions, grease, and something sweet coming from the kitchen.
I stood in the doorway for a second, taking it in.
It was easy like a Sunday morning.
But that explained all of Bloomington. It was growing due to the convention center being built, but for the most part, this town lived slowly.
Sunday at The Bloom was different from Saturday night, and I could dig it. I’d always loved a lowkey spot, and this was that. Brunch was also served, and the reviews raved about her Blackberry Lemon pancakes. I couldn’t wait to get into that.
“Welcome to The Bloom,” she said from behind the bar.
I mumbled a curse under my breath because Liana was so damn fine it genuinely inconvenienced a nigga.
Today, her freckled honey-brown skin glowed against the deep burgundy turban wrapped around her curls, a few loose pieces framing her face. Large gold hoops caught the light every time she moved, dragging my attention straight to her neck.
A neck I’d like to?—
I shook my head and kept walking. No need getting ahead of myself.
The black V-neck tank left her ink exposed, florals crawling from her wrist to her collarbone. She reached for a bottle behind the bar and my focus slipped. The jeans she had on hugged her ass in a way that made concentration damn near impossible.
The sound of her jewelry moving kept drawing my eyes back to her face. I smiled before I caught myself.
“You again.”
“What?” I asked, coming from my daydreaming.
“You’re back,” she said with her brows crinkled.
“Is that okay?”
She shrugged with a slight smirk.
I sat down at the end of the bar. My end, apparently, because I kept gravitating back to the same spot every night.
“Mocktails only today. It’s the Lord’s day.”
“Interesting.”
“What? Don’t tell me, you’re full heathen Jaheim Harrison.”
“Nah, full menace. And how do you know my last name?”
She ignored me and kept moving. Her hands moved without thinking, measuring without measuring. Shaking and squeezing. It was art. She set a glass down in front of me and pushed it forward without a word.
I picked it up. Then my eyes went to her.
“What’s the special something? I’ve been trying to figure it out since last night.”
“Ginger and star anise,” she said, wiping down the bar to her left. “Among other things.”
“Never would’ve guessed that. A genius?’
“Something like that. What can I get you?”
“I heard the brunch was good. Let me get the Sunday special. You gon cook it for me?” I was going to enjoy flirting with her.
She laughed, I’m talking, doubled over in laughter before she spoke. “You wish. I don’t cook for men, especially one that ain’t mine. One special,” she yelled to the kitchen.
“You got a mouth on you, Liana Trini Bloom! But I’m not deterred.”
I picked up my drink and took a sip, keeping my eye on her smirking lips. Good. Warm going down, citrus up front and smoke underneath, ginger landing at the end. I set it down and reached into my back pocket.
“I forgot to pay my tab last night. That’s why I’m back.”
She stopped wiping. Looked at me. Then she tapped the bar twice with two manicured fingers. “Settle up then.”
I pulled the hundred out and slid it across the bar. She picked it up and checked to make sure it was real. I scoffed as she slipped it into her own shirt, tucked right into the curve of her bra, smooth like she’d done it a thousand times.
She had, probably.
But I was sitting close enough to catch what she hadn’t offered. I filed that away with everything else I’d been filing since last night. Southern women kept their money close to their chests, and I respected it. I hadn’t expected the view that came with it.
“Keep the change,” I said.
“How kind of you?” she said sarcastically.
She poured herself something that looked like a ginger shot.
“Cheers,” I said, lifting my glass.
She held my gaze for a beat, our brown eyes locked longer than necessary before she picked up her glass and tapped it against mine. We both drank, and she set hers down before leaning against the bar.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-seven.”
I watched her do the math. She picked her glass up and sighed through her nose, already irritated by the answer.
“I’m thirty-nine, Jaheim.”
“I know how old you are, Liana.”
That got her attention. Her eyes snapped to mine, and I sipped my drink. I didn’t bother hiding it. I looked her up, learned what I needed to learn, and still came back wanting more. From her. She opened her mouth and closed it. I could see her deciding whether to be offended or impressed.
“Twenty-seven,” she said again, mostly to herself. “Lord, a baby.”
“You keep saying it like it’s going to change.”
“I’m processing.”
“Process faster.” I set my glass down. “Twelve years isn’t a tragedy.”
“Twelve years is a whole life stage, Jaheim, I was—” She stopped herself, laughed a little through her nose, shook her head. “I was grown while you were learning how to parallel park.”
“And now we’re both grown and so is this dick,” I whispered before leaning back.
The sound that came out of her was half laugh, half shock at my audacity, but I wasn’t bullshitting. She was clearly thinking about it. The quicker I could ease her mind, the quicker I could make her mine.
“Order up,” the cook yelled, breaking our staring contest.
She turned around and walked to the other end of the bar with her hand over her mouth, giggling.
She came back pretending to be composed and placed the plate in front of me. The pancakes had crisp golden edges, and the fried chicken was drizzled with what looked like blackberry reduction.
“Why would you say that?”
“Because you’re overthinking a detail that doesn’t matter. At least not to me.”
“What do you do, Jaheim?”
“I’m in IT.”
“Like computers.”
“Yep, like computers.” I left it at that and let her take it at face value because that was the thing about information: you gave people what they needed and held back what they didn’t, and Liana didn’t need the rest of it yet. “What about you. What are you running from?”
She glanced up from the glass she was rinsing. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. What is a beautiful, educated woman like you doing behind a bar?”
“I’m standing right here behind my bar on a Sunday afternoon because that’s how I want it. Sometimes things just choose you.”
“You left a whole career. Moved back to your hometown. Poured yourself into a bar you grew up in.” I leaned forward on the stool. “And you got a policy against men that you put up so fast last night it had to already be built. So I’ll ask again. What did Odeal Jordan do, and how can I fix it?”