Chapter 6 #4
There was an awkward silence that filled the room after I called her baby.
We stared at each other briefly before she looked away and went back to scrambling around the conference table.
I joined her. Asked how her last meeting went.
Didn’t care too much about that. Only asked to calm her down.
She was antsy, like she might’ve had too much caffeine.
Or like she had anxiety. Whichever it was, I didn’t like it. So, I did what I do—created small talk.
“You secured another contract?”
She sucked her teeth. “Not yet. They said they would get back to me. I’m not looking forward to a call. There was something about him. I don’t know.”
“Fuck ‘em,” I said with a shrug. “It’ll be his loss—not yours. But if it’s okay for me to say… always expect a call. You do phenomenal work.”
We locked eyes again. And as always, she looked away first.
“Thank you,” Mahogany softly said. “Did you… Were you able to take a look at the concepts I sent over? They’re rough drafts but they’re good. Just something I came up with on the fly. We don’t have to go with it—”
I grabbed her hands. Cut her off midsentence.
She looked up at me like I was crazy. I looked down at her like I cared.
She needed a drink. But I wanted her to get to a point with me where she didn’t need anything to calm her nerves.
Why she was so nervous, I hadn’t a clue.
All I’d been since we met was myself. No pressure.
Just… me. She said she was a little intimidated but damn.
“Take a deep breath for me,” I told her, slightly gripping her soft hands.
I was tempted to intertwine my fingers with hers, that was just how good her hands felt in mine. But I chilled. Kept it cordial. Grabbing her hands was already crossing the line enough.
She sucked her teeth. “Mr. Car—”
“Crescent,” I corrected. “Just take a deep breath. Nervous ass.”
She laughed, looked down, and then back up at me. “Nervous? I’m not nervous. I’m running behind and—”
“And I told you it was cool. Be cool. And… take… a… deep… breath for me.”
She sighed, shifted her weight around and tilted her head to the side. So much attitude. But she gave me what I asked for. A deep breath.
“You don’t have to rush. I have time. And if I didn’t, I’d make time,” I reassured her. “Give me another one.”
Again, she took a deep breath. This time, with her eyes closed.
The tension in her hands softened and I made a bold move by running my thumbs over the backs of them.
Again, tension lessened and before I knew it, her hands were limp and comfortable in mine.
Her pulse didn’t race, and she was on her fourth deep breath without direction.
“No pressure. We gone chill and go over the design concept together,” I told her as she opened her eyes.
She nodded. “So, you didn’t go over them?”
With raised brows, I shook my head. “Hell naw. Didn’t see the email until this morning.”
Mahogany slipped her hands out of mine and went back to gathering the portfolios she was handling. “Okay. We can do that. However, reviewing what I send before meetings help. I don’t think I need to tell you that though.”
She cut her eyes at me, and I laughed, running a hand over the top of my head. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” She asked before scrunching her lips up and laughing. “You act like an amateur, Mr. Crescent Carter.”
I shrugged, pretending I was really just that sloppy at business. Like I said… I knew what I was doing. “Damn, maybe I am a lil bit. I don’t usually work one on one with contractors. Not like this. Shit, put me on, Ms. Mills. Help me out.”
I feigned ignorance. Pretended on purpose but I didn’t think I needed to pretend for real. She knew what it was. A nigga in my position couldn’t be this sloppy. Wouldn’t have gotten so far in business if I was.
She squinted, took a deep breath and shook her head. “Haven’t been Ms. Mills in years,” she mumbled.
“My bad,” I nonchalantly said, faking sincerity. “How many years?”
She looked over at me from the table and said, “Twelve.”
“And you’re how old? No disrespect. Twelve is crazy,” I sized her up. “You don’t look a day over thirty.”
Mahogany shrugged. “I got married at twenty-two. Just turned thirty-four.”
I drew back with raised brows. “Married at twenty-two? Straight? When you meet ‘em?”
She looked at me, wearing a confused expression. “Why?”
Did I give a fuck? Not for real. I was trying to distract her from how nervous she was. That was it. However, I was a little interested in knowing how long she’d been with him. Only because she seemed so unhappy.
“Conversation,” I said, handing her the stack of papers I gathered.
She took them from me. With a side eye, she said, “When I was fifteen.”
“Damn,” I said, stunned. “That’s wild as hell.”
“Wild? How is that wild? Most people think it’s beautiful, thank you very much.
” She stated, matter-of-factly as if getting married at twenty-two to the person you were with since fifteen was actually a flex.
It wasn’t. You think I kept that to myself?
Shit no. I kept it one hundred with her.
No wonder she looked so unhappy in the photos of the two of them.
That nigga should have looked just as miserable in them, low key.
Married at twenty-two? Together since fifteen?
Mahogany hadn’t lived. Not for real. And that was sad.
“There’s nothing beautiful about devoting yourself to someone before your life actually begins. No disrespect but… it’s pretty fuckin’ sad if you ask me.”
She paused, drew back and looked me up and down. “Good thing I didn’t ask you.”
I turned my mouth down and nodded. “I guess you got a point. My bad.”
She rolled her eyes, took a deep breath and said, “Look… I think it’s best if we keep things, conversations included, professional. And because you can’t seem to comprehend the fact that I am Mrs. Mahogany Mills-Morris, please stick to calling me Mahogany.”
Again, I nodded. “My bad. I got you.”
We locked eyes for a second and she looked away with a deep breath.
She was offended. I struck a nerve. Was I trying to do either of those things? Hell naw. How long she’d been with him had just caught me off guard. That was it.
After a couple of minutes of tidying up in the conference room, in silence, we moved to the main area of the office where her desk and a little seating area sat.
We sat there. She pulled up the design schemes, and I leaned in, listening, but more so taking in the scent of her perfume.
Today she smelled sweet like candy. Inviting.
Fun. Playful. Flirty. The opposite of what she gave.
Although she’d taken a couple of deep breaths and had snapped on me a little, I still felt how nervous she was.
I wanted to reach over and massage her shoulders.
Wanted to do something to loosen her up.
But I couldn’t. Instead, I drew back a little despite wanting to draw in closer.
I gave her space, when I wanted to close it.
If there was a way I could help, I’d do it. I wanted her comfortable—not tensed.
“What do you think?” She asked, glancing over at me before her eyes were back on that iPad.
I took a deep breath and reached for it, our fingers brushing up against one another and she shocked me. Or I shocked her. Neither of us acknowledged it.
“I think it’s nice. You said it’s a rough draft?”
“Yeah,” she said with a shrug. “Something I worked on after work. We don’t have to go in that direction. I was just—”
“We’re going in this direction,” I told her, finally paying attention to what it was she was showing me. “I like it. Rough draft and all.”
She smiled and took the tablet back when I handed it to her. “You sure?”
“Positive,” I reassured, catching her eyes again.
She stayed connected for a minute. Pulled her lips into her mouth, nodded, and then said, “Okay, bet. We’re heading in this direction then. Great. How long are we before construction wraps up? We reached out to Louie this morning for a follow up, but he hasn’t gotten back to us just yet.”
I told her and we went back to going over the design scheme.
She talked. I let her, taking everything in.
As best as I could at least. I couldn’t get over the fact that she’d been with her dude for damn near twenty years.
That told me a lot. Told me why, with me, she was so nervous.
Told me why she didn’t seem happy and bubbly in the pictures.
Told me enough. All of that time meant there were scars.
I wondered, if in all of those years she’d been loved correctly.
I wondered, since she’d been with dawg for so long, if she even knew herself.
She carried herself like she knew but I wondered if it was a front.
As much of a front as her marriage was. I watched, listening to her, eyes on her eyes watching the iPad and I wondered a lot.
Why? I didn’t know. I wasn’t an inquisitive nigga.
Not where women were concerned, I wasn’t at least. But Mahogany…
she piqued my interest like a muthafucka.