Chapter 2 I Know That Look
Champ
I know that look. This lady’s been through hell. She’s too pretty to deal with anything but the best a man can give her.
She stares out the window, and her profile is perfection. I’ve never seen a woman so gorgeous. Or so sad.
I let the silence stretch for a few miles, stealing glances at her more than I should.
“How bad was the date?” I ask.
She slow blinks. “Huh?”
“How bad was your date tonight? You have that look.”
She sighs, letting her shoulders droop. “Pretty damn bad.”
“Like, I need a break from dating for a bit bad, or what’s a few cats and learning how to crochet about bad?”
She chuckles. “I did consider having you take me to the animal shelter.”
I turn on my blinker and make a right turn at the intersection.
“What happened?” I look back at her.
“I don’t know where to start. He smelled like mildew.”
“Oh no! Strikes one and two. You gotta come correct when it comes to how you smell. Not my guy smelling like he left the clean clothes in the washer for two days.”
She snaps. “That’s the exact smell. You know you gotta wash them again, sometimes twice.”
I shake my head. “Homie put them straight in the dryer and carried on with life.”
“His mom probably put them in the dryer.”
“Oh no, no, no. Don’t tell me he lives with his mom.”
“It’s worse than that.”
“How can it be worse?” The only thing worse would be sharing a room with her.
“He lives in her basement.”
“Damn, the man is a living, breathing cliche. Did he say females too?” I ask coming up on a red light. I turn to face her.
“He did!” She throws her head back and howls with laughter. “He absolutely did.”
“Baby girl, is that when you left?”
Her smile fades. “Nope.”
“We’re going to have to talk about your reasoning skills, Lydea.”
She opens her mouth to rebut, but the horn honking behind us lets me know the light has turned green.
“My bad,” I mutter.
“You’re good.”
I try not to talk too much during my rides, so I focus on the road.
“How many rides do you do a day?”
“Not too many. I only do rideshares in the evenings and on the weekend. I’m saving for–”
“Please don’t say your own place,” she groans.
I laugh. “No. I got my own place. I’m a barber. I’m trying to buy my own spot.”
I see her flash a tiny smile in the mirror.
“That’s responsible.”
I nod. “I have big, but achievable plans. I figure doing this will get me there faster.”
“Smart. So you listen to people complain all day in your chair, then listen to people complain all evening in your car?”
I shrug. “What can I say? I’m a people person.”
She giggles.
“What about you? What do you do when you’re not staying way too long on dates with raggedy men?”
“I’m a graphic designer and an artist.”
I lock eyes with her. That’s a cool ass job. “How’d you get into that?”
“I was one of those kids who was always drawing. My teachers got on to me about it, but my parents poured into me. They put me in art camps and always encouraged me. They helped fuel my passion, and here I am.”
“Supportive parents are dope. Good for you. I used to draw too. Never figured I could make a living off of it, but I like doing things with my hands.”
I glance up at her. She’s got a grin on her face. I shake my head and laugh.
We approach another light. I slow down as it changes and stop before I have to. “Yellow is a good color on you,” I tell her.
Her stomach growls so loudly that I can hear it.
“You stayed too long, but not long enough to eat?”
The light turns green, and I accelerate.
“You know what?”
I wave a hand. “I’m sure the mildew ruined your appetite anyway. You want some tacos? My favorite food truck is close by.”
She stares at me in the rear view mirror. I can see the questions written all over her face. “Let this be a part of your Champ ride experience. I can’t have you in here with your stomach hooting and hollering like that anyway.”
She smiles. “Sure, I want some tacos.”