Chapter 4
“S houldn’t you be home resting?” Blake asked, sitting across from Emon in a booth at Urban Griddle.
It was a new breakfast spot in the city, and he loved trying new places to eat and felt blessed that she agreed to let him steal some of her precious time.
He was happy that she had put his number to use after two weeks of waiting.
He was so turnt up when she texted ‘when?’ that he didn’t care where they went.
They could be at Jersey Mikes for all he cared.
Blake had stalled putting his number to use because she wanted him to feel exactly how she felt in her waiting.
He already had. Little did she know. The minute he left her apartment that day, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her gentle hands working with practiced care, blowing softly on his skin to ease the sting.
He’d watched her sleep before leaving, memorizing the peace on her face, knowing even then that he’d find his way back to her.
But first, he needed time. Time to settle that street business properly.
Time to make sure no drama would follow him to her door.
Time to prove he was more than whatever assumptions she might have made about him that night. And he felt he had done that.
Emon didn’t have a nine-to-five, and that was obvious to her, but he also wasn’t deep in the streets. He wanted her to know that.
“All healed up, thanks to you, but check it…about how we met. I ain’t no gang banger or criminal. I own my own businesses and shit. You caught me on a bad day. A really bad day.”
“Yeah, wrong apartment.”
“But still kismet,” they said in unison.
Emon nodded his head, unsure of how he was feeling.
Being around Blake had his stomach doing flips.
It had been years since he felt the need to impress someone, but he wanted Blake to understand he’d be the nigga she needed.
There was no doubt in his mind about his capabilities.
“If you aren’t in the streets, what was up with that? How does a business owner get shot and need a back alley hospital or whatever you thought you were coming to?”
“Gambling, but it’s handled. I shoot dice here and there; shit gets a little crazy.
Niggas hate getting cracked for the rent money,” Emon said with a shrug.
The truth was that even though he wasn’t in the streets anymore, he was a street nigga to the core.
It was in him, not on him. He didn’t need to shoot, rob, or steal from anyone to make sure people knew not to fuck with him or what belonged to him.
He was no stranger to the streets and the code they lived by.
“Sounds like you got a gambling problem,” she noted through slanted eyes.
“You got jokes.”
“Who joking?” she asked, tilting her head and sipping her mimosa. She liked the spot, and despite his recent news, she was enjoying his company and the atmosphere, but she didn’t do men with addictions and obsessions that weren’t her. It was just how it was.
“Hell nah. I’m a hustla and got street nigga tendencies from time to time. I got self control.”
She nodded her head, understanding. “That’s what they all say.”
She wanted something to be wrong with him so bad.
She hoped a busted ex popped up with the shit to stop her, but it hadn’t happened.
Emon was here to wreck her world in the most gentle, perfect way possible.
She could feel it. It was in the way he stared at her, the way he leaned in when she spoke, and the way he sent a text every day until she agreed to come out with him.
It didn’t matter if she responded or not. He still sent it.
“Stall me out.”
“Ok, but I don’t have to worry about Baybay and Taytay nem running up in my apartment or grieving you, do I?”
The last part slipped out before she could catch it, and she looked away quickly.
She hadn’t meant to reveal that much. Hadn’t meant to admit she was already thinking about losing him before she really had him, but something about treating his wound, about seeing him vulnerable, had her mind going places she wasn’t ready for.
Emon reached over, his fingers gentle but firm as he guided her chin back toward him. His eyes locked with hers, and there was something in them that made her breath catch.
“Nah, neva dat. I don’t play like that. You special. I wouldn’t bring no shit back to you. That’s another reason it took me a minute to spin the block on you. I needed to be sure.”
“About what?”
“About giving the person who saved my life my last name one day.”
“Is that right?” Blake asked, blushing. “I don’t even know your last name or your birthday…nothing, and your crazy butt talking about marriage?”
“What’s wrong with that? Y’all women always say y’all want a man who knows what he wants, but you got your nose turned up when I do. Make it make sense.”
“Nah, this is different. We don’t know each other. Marriage should be the last thing we think about.”
“Dowlen. Emontez Jarvis Dowlen. Born September fifteenth, 1992. That’s also the code to my phone and crib.
I own EJ Car Detailing, the Slow Bucks car wash on 6th Street, and the location on Dickson Road.
I have a little free pantry on 10th Street for the community, Be Fed.
I’m an only child, born to a beautiful woman named ViceAnne, Vicey, for those lucky enough to know her.
Didn’t know my dad. Got a helluva mother, and we got time to get to know each other.
I ain’t in a rush. I’m just letting it be known I’m interested. ”
“I’ve heard of that store. Nice to put a face to the act. And not if you get shot again.”
“Man, chill out on all that. I vow right now to quit gambling or living recklessly, but people get shot every day, baby. I don’t give a damn about none of it enough to put myself in that shit no mo’. Too old for this shit.”
“Don’t do all that for little ole me.”
“I’m a man interested in you. I’d do a lot more for you if you let me, and that’s how it should be. I’m just waiting for you to catch up.”
Here was the pressure she was talking about. Some men had it and some didn’t. Emon had it. It was the reason her and PJ hadn’t worked out. PJ was cool. He just wasn’t her forever and it happened like that. Sometimes love wasn’t enough, and that was okay.
There was power in walking away from what didn’t serve a person, in choosing themselves. Fuck who it offended. She believed in love, but she believed in herself more. Too many women worried about wasted time or what people might say, but life was too short for almost love and for maybe happiness.
She’d seen too many women settle for less than they deserved, trying to force situations that weren’t meant to be, but she’d made a promise to herself.
She wouldn’t ignore her gut just to avoid being alone.
When something wasn’t right, it just wasn’t right, and no amount of potential could change that.
Blake had been taught to never settle for anything in life.
Her father let her know at an early age that if she wanted it, she could have it, would get it, and was smart enough to go get it.
There was no ceiling for her in any capacity.
She wasn’t settling in love, her career, her friendships, none of it.
“Blake Michel’e Bishop, March first, 1996.
I’m a nurse and a student at Bastone University.
I do a little hair on the side sometimes.
My favorite color is orange. I’m not an only child,” she said, offering a little more but not wanting to go too far into her family dynamics.
Some men ran off once they heard who her brother was.
“See, that didn’t hurt, did it?”
“It didn’t hurt. Thank you, by the way, for the new couch. It’s the one I’d been wanting.”
“Stop that. It’s the least I could do. Hopefully, you allow me to do more.
” He winked, causing Blake to smile. The waitress approached the table to explain how brunch at Urban Griddle worked.
They listened intently as she explained that the servers would soon be coming around with their brunch items until they could no longer eat.
Emon kept stealing glances at her as he tried his best to pay attention.
He wanted her to be his brunch buffet today, tomorrow, and possibly forever.
“Once you’ve had enough, you turn the block over to red.”
“Whew, I know a brunch spot hates to see me coming,” Blake admitted, clapping with excitement.
She poured another mimosa and prepared to have a good time.
She was no different from anyone else. She loved a good brunch and chill spot.
The music blasted in the place, and the final guest arrived, signaling it was time to get started.
It was like a brunch buffet without the germs and getting up. Blake could get down with that.
“Yall enjoy yourselves and tell your friends about us.”
Emon was enamored by Blake. He loved seeing her excitement dance on her face, attack her eyes, and cause her to bounce. She wasn’t trying to be anything or anyone but herself.
“I like seeing you excited. It’s cute.”
“And why is that?”
“I don’t know.” he shrugged blushing. “I’ve never been the reason a woman smiled like this. It’s cute, you cute.”
It had always been his wish to be the reason a woman smiled.
He just hadn’t been lucky to have found her yet.
Well, that was until his Blake took care of him without a second thought.
He didn’t feel as though many women would be on that type of time, and he appreciated her taking action.
He appreciated her care and how gentle and considerate she was.
What she did showed a level of trust that no woman had ever given him before.
“Can I see you again?” he asked, causing her to pause her excitement. Her gaze told him everything he needed to know, but he wanted to hear her say it.
“I’d love that.”
“Cool, how is school going?” he asked, leaning back. He could relax now that she hadn’t rejected him.
“What?” she asked, choking a little. No one cared enough about how she was doing in school enough to ask.
She was a grown, independent woman. She didn’t have parents, and the family besides her brother was thin and also occupied.
Her brother had his own things going on, but he would come running if she needed him to.
Everyone expected her to have it together, and because of that, everyone assumed she was fine.
She was, but school was hard. The nights long and the return seemed so far away.
Plus, she was working. Sometimes she wanted to feel like she was doing this for someone and that someone was proud that she had made the Dean’s list each semester, that she had done really good on her clinicals, or that she was being asked to speak at her graduation.
She wished her daddy was around to see it and support her.
“How’s school?” he asked again.
“It’s going well. It’s not easy, but I’m hanging in there. I’m on my way to being a nurse practitioner. I’m excited for that.”
“I’m not surprised. Got me right together like MacGyver.” He laughed, causing her to laugh as well. “Why nursing?”
“Grief.”
“Dig that. Dig that. How long until I’m cheering for you as you walk across the stage?” He wanted to ask more about that, but he didn’t want to fuck up the vibe. They had time to get to the deepest, darkest parts of themselves, and hopefully in a way more intimate setting.
“What makes you so sure you can stick around that long?”
“Just indulge me.”
“A year. I graduate in the spring of next year, and I’m ready to get my life back. I honestly should be studying right now, not out here frolicking with the likes of you.”
“Well, let’s eat, and then I’ll get you back home so you can handle your business.
Can I do anything to repay you?” Emon hadn’t been in college for a long time, and he didn’t last while he was in.
He didn’t need anyone to teach him how to make money.
He could do that in his sleep, but he knew that it wasn’t cheap and her degree in progress had saved his life.
He wanted to repay her, but she was hellbent on giving him a hard time.
“You just did by asking me how school was going. No one asks anymore, and I’m an adult, so obviously I don’t need validation but—”
“Support means something,” he said, finishing her sentence.
“And not having it stings a little bit. My dad would be on a completely different time. He’d be helping me study, calling every day after class, and buying me something fancy for making the Dean’s list. It makes me miss him even more.”
“Damn, my baby smart, ain’t it?”
She grinned and responded. “You gotta quit calling me that.”
“Nah, I don’t, but I hear you, Blake.”
And she had to admit her name didn’t sound as good as baby crossing his lips, but she needed to slow him down a bit. She wasn’t sure about all of this or him just yet.
“You can work your way to calling me that though.”
“So that means you gone give me a chance to show you a good time?”
She met his eyes, her expression turning serious. “Let me be clear, I don’t do drama. No baby mama surprises, no side chicks, none of that. I’ll walk away and never look back, so eat, sleep, drink that before you play wit’ me.”
“Trust me,” he said, his voice low and certain, “when I find something worth having, I know how to act.”
The way he looked at her when he said it made her wonder if maybe, just maybe, she was already in deeper than she planned to be. She’d have to see, but a part of her knew she wouldn’t be able to stop this freight train named Emon headed her way.