Chapter Six
Channing
The most gorgeous woman I'd ever seen had just agreed to go out with me. There were no words to describe how excited I was, but my enthusiasm was soon deflated. Where was I going to take her? A classy chick like her wouldn't be down with warm beer and a few rounds of pool. Not to mention if I took her to the tavern on a weekend night, we'd definitely run into someone I knew and then depending on who it was the situation would either become bad or very bad.
I had to think outside of the box. Come up with a date that would truly sweep her off her feet, or our first date might be our last. I went to my computer and looked up the best restaurants within an hour of us. I found a Mexican place that looked good, but when I looked at the prices on the menu the blood drained from my face. Dinner, drinks and tip would cost me almost an entire week's pay.
I looked for something else, but I kept going back to the page for that restaurant. I really wanted to impress her. I'd been putting some money aside; it was time to spend it. Though I hoped taking her there wouldn't mean she'd expect to go to places like that every time. If she did, I wouldn't be able to afford it. But I wanted to make our first date special.
My cell buzzed with a text. I looked down and spotted my brother, Damon’s name.
Damon: Hey, Chan! Don’t forget about the meeting coming up. You better be there.
I read through the message and thought about it. How could I forget about the meeting? No matter how hard I tried, ever since I met Kemara, that damn meeting had been drilled into my mind. I put the phone down, giving it a few minutes, before shooting him a message back.
My great grandfather, Charles, was a high-ranking soldier in the Confederate Army. People that were under him respected him. He was someone that got the job done and everyone looked up to him, but living the life that he did, he had some ideas about the way the world should be and those ideals were passed down by him to his family. So, generation by generation, we were forced to believe the same as him.
My father passed down everything he learned from my great grandfather, just as Damon and I were told we needed to pass this down to our own children. That included his white pride and nationalism. They believed wholeheartedly in the Bible belt. They believed the South belonged to the whites and that once the first black president was elected, our rights were endangered.
That’s why Damon stayed on top of me about coming to the meetings. He wanted as much support as possible to hold steady our beliefs, or the beliefs they wanted us to have. Damon was one that stood by everything we’d been taught, and because the group believed that our rights were in jeopardy, there had been more and more meetings being put into place.
They wanted to head up some kind of takeover, where they could plan an overturning of the government and ultimately protect our second amendment rights and solidify our place as the true leaders of America. The problem that I faced was I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to believe those rights belonged solely to us…and us alone. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to attend the meetings, knowing how badly it could turn out if we kept down a path of superiority in a country where our majority was shrinking. Contrary to all that I was raised to believe, I had eyes and ears. I could see that the country was becoming a melting pot of races, cultures and religions. I was in a good place in my life and sometimes I just felt that maybe fighting for superiority wasn’t as important as my great grandfather, grandfather, and father, had always led me to believe. When I heard another text message come through, I just assumed it was another message from Damon, to make sure I got the first one.
Instead, when I looked down, I discovered that Kemara’s name was on my phone. That brought a smile to my face and suddenly responding to Damon didn’t seem so important.
Kemara: Sorry about that. My sister needed me, but she's fine now. Here's my address...
The fact that family meant so much to her was yet another reason I sensed Kemara was everything I’d been waiting for in a woman. I typed back my reply, after jotting down her address, just in case it got lost through our mountains of texts.
Me: Thanks. I can't wait for our date. And you're such a sweetheart, the way you look after your sister.
Kemara: You just keep thinking that, stud.
I laughed. It was cute how she called me a stud, and it had me anxious to see her again and see her cute smile quirk up at the edges. Then thinking about her sexy lips on mine had me forgetting that I was in the middle of a text message.
Me: So you think I'm a stud? Huh?
Kemara: Shoosh, unless you want to get hammered.
I chuckled, already trying to come up with a good comeback, when my phone buzzed again.
Kemara: Can we please keep pretending half the stuff I say isn't a bad innuendo?
God, she was adorable. No woman had ever made me smile the way she did.
Me: Sure can.
The back and forth between Kemara and myself went on for another hour after that, until we both admitted that we needed to get some sleep, so we could get up and get ready for work the next day.
However, on my end…I wanted nothing more than to talk with her for another hour or two. I wanted to talk to her all night if she could sustain that, but lying in bed that night, I had a moment in silence where I could just think about her and that satisfied my needs for a little while.
Going through the rest of the week was something that wasn’t all that easy. We talked on the phone several times during the week and we texted one another every day. Finally, Saturday came around and it was time to pick her up. I wasn’t nervous to get on with this date, because in the past week of communicating as much as we could, she put me at ease. Kemara was a sweetheart, and I was lucky she agreed to go out with me.
I wasn't surprised to discover she lived in the city, which was about an hour's drive from my home. That would explain why I hadn't seen her before, even though I'd seen her friend several times.
I pulled up in front of her apartment building. It was neat and clean and a bit on the upscale side; my rusty pickup stuck out like a sore thumb in front of it. Part of me was surprised she even took me up on my offer. Most professional women wouldn't give a redneck like me the time of day. Glad she was willing to take a chance.
She buzzed me in and I headed upstairs with a bouquet of roses in my hand. Another first for me, but I was going all out. I had this nagging feeling that somehow I was going to screw this up and I needed all the positive collateral I could get when I did. When she opened the door, my jaw dropped. She wore a sleeveless black dress with lace covering the top of it and her hair down and to the side. "You look amazing," I breathlessly said, gasping at her beauty and thinking it was some crude joke that she agreed to go out with me. I felt out of her league and needed to be on my best behavior with her.
She smiled as she took the flowers from me. "Thank you.” She took a whiff of the roses and smiled. “Come in, while I put these in some water."
Her place looked just like I imagined. A strange combination of sleek and cozy that somehow fit her. There was a place for everything. At the same time, it felt welcoming, like it wouldn't be hard to find a place for me too. She came out of the kitchen with the flowers in a vase. She placed them on the table and was ready to go.
When we got to my truck, I held the door open for her. I hoped there wasn't anything in there that might get her dress dirty. I was wearing a suit jacket, usually something I'd only do if someone had just died, but I figured it was a requirement for the restaurant I was taking her to.
We pulled up in front of the restaurant, and I handed the valet my keys. He looked down at them, then at me, and then at my truck. I gave him a look that strongly suggested he park my truck without opening his mouth. He took my suggestion to my relief. I didn’t think Kemara would appreciate it if I got into a fist brawl with the valet concierge before we went into the restaurant.
After we took our seats, I could tell something was wrong. Kemara read the menu with her face all pinched up like she was looking at a bad report card.
"What's wrong?"
It hit me that maybe she didn’t like Mexican food. I didn’t even ask her if she did, I just planned the date and went with it. I opened my mouth to inquire and to suggest we p;could go somewhere else. There was a nice Steakhouse just a few streets back, but she didnp;;/0;’t let me get my words out.
"Please don't get offended when I ask this, but how can you afford this?" She looked at me, one eyebrow raised and her mouth slightly agape.
Well, that was certainly not what I thought she was going to ask.
"I'm a drug dealer," I said, delivering the line with a straight face and a perfectly flat voice. I amazed myself at how easily I said it. Poor Kemara looked like she was going to have an aneurysm then and there, so I couldn't hold my straight face for long. I laughed. "I'm just kidding. I work and I had some money saved up. That's all." I shrugged, playing it off, but she didn’t seem at all convinced.
"You're spending your savings to take me out?" she asked. Her face was solid, not a splash of amusement in her eyes.
"Yeah, you're worth it. Aren't you?" I asked, smirking, so it could hopefully lighten the mood.
She rolled her eyes. "If you say so." Even her mock annoyance was adorable. “I would have been happy with a pool hall, but that’s beside the point.” She looked back at her menu and I listened to her words. So, the good thing about that was, she wouldn’t expect this all the time, but I wanted to get the conversation off the prices of the date and onto something that was less intimidating.
"So, what do you do?" I asked, just wanting to make simple conversation, not trying to measure exactly how far out of my league I actually was.
She looked up from her menu and closed it, then pushed it off to the side. "I work with insurance claims, what about you?"
"Construction."
She grinned. "I figured. How else do you explain all those muscles?" She reached across the tiny table and felt my arm, which I instinctively flexed for her.
"All that lifting I did in prison."
Once again, her mouth fell open.
I laughed, seeing her surprised expression. "If you're going to keep making it this easy, then I'm not sure I'll be able to stop."
She leaned back in her chair and laughed. That sound was so beautiful, I would make jokes all night to hear it again and again. Plus, it was good to get away from the talk of whether I could or couldn’t afford this place. Whatever sacrifice I had to make was worth knowing she was happy.
We sat there drinking fine wine, which I honestly liked less than the stuff I get from a box, and talking about our lives—work, friends, and families. I left out a few details about my family and friends to avoid wearing the fine wine that cost me two days’ pay and tasted like rot. Other than that, there wasn't much I kept hidden. There was something about her that just made it easy to talk.
She was telling me about her sister and the jerk she married when she mentioned her sister being upset about us going out.
My face fell.
"Why's that?" I asked.
A knot tightened in my stomach. She probably didn't like the idea of her fancy exec sister dating a construction worker. I didn't really have a comeback for that.
"She says there is only one thing white guys are interested in when they date black girls."
I nearly choked on the shitty wine. She had to be kidding. Not to be arrogant, but I'm a hot guy in a small town full of single women; I can order up pussy like it's pizza. I chuckled. "If all I was interested in was getting laid, there are a lot of easier ways than trying to date a black woman in Chambers County."
It took milliseconds to realize I said the wrong thing. Her face went deadpan. I fumbled for words to try to rescue what I was sure was now the shortest date of my life. "I just meant—"
"Well…I think it was perfectly clear what you meant." If she sounded angry, I would have had at least some hope. There was no emotion in her voice, at all. She'd put up her walls and I wasn't sure I'd be able to scale them. She wiped her mouth and stood up from the table. "Thank you for the lovely dinner, but I'll be going now."
She started to leave. I dropped the contents of my wallet, over five hundred on the table so I could chase after her without getting arrested. I caught up with her just outside the restaurant.
"Kemara, wait."
She kept walking.
It was miles to her place, so I knew she wasn't going to walk all the way home in heels. But she could walk over to a major street and catch a cab. If she got in that cab before I convinced her not to, that would be the last time I saw her.
"At least let me drive you home," I pleaded. I wasn’t about to let her walk away from me, because of something she might have misconstrued.
"No, thank you. I'll be fine." She kept walking as if I hadn't even spoken. She was going to reach a major street soon. I had to stop her.
I knew it would be a risk. She could flip out on me, but I was desperate, I had to try something. I grabbed her by her shoulders and forced her to face me. "Tell me what I said that was so horrible that it’s unforgivable."
"If dating me is causing you so much hardship, then please, don't let me burden you with my presence." She didn’t even look me in the eyes and I felt horrible to see the pain on her face.
"Oh, come on. You know I didn't mean it like that. I'm just being honest. Dating someone outside of your race causes complications, like someone's sister assuming I'm a bad guy without even knowing anything about me." I shrugged. “It’s just the way of the world.”
“So? That doesn’t mean I’m going to be hard to date. It’s not about what my sister wants, it’s about what I want.”
I heaved a sigh and tilted my head, looking for some sign that she could forgive me. “I’m sorry for saying that, Kemara. Okay?”
Her eyes fell to the ground and her shoulders went lax in my grip. "I suppose you have a point. There were some theatrics involved in the way I jumped up and ran out of the restaurant," she said and looked up at me. I chuckled when I saw the smile slowly come back to her beautiful lips. She then laughed and, for a moment, we were both on that sidewalk laughing over the way things went down in the restaurant. No longer fueled by a raging desire to get away from me, she began to rub her arms.
I took off my jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Her eyes met mine and she softened and we were back in good graces. We walked back slowly towards the restaurant. When we reached the door, the valet brought me my truck. I reached into my wallet and realized I had dropped every dollar I had on the table. I didn't even have enough to pay him.
I looked at Kemara, and I was sure the agony of the question I had to ask showed on my face. "Do you have a twenty I could borrow?" I asked. I felt like such a heel, and again the fear that I wasn’t worthy of this woman came flooding back in my mind.
She dug a twenty out of her purse and handed it to me. There was no judgment in her eyes, unlike the valet who must have been biting his tongue not to say I knew you weren't shit.
I hopped in the truck and just wanted to get out of there. I probably broke the speeding limit five times to get Kemara home. Even though in the end she forgave me of my slip, having to borrow money from my date...I was beyond humiliated.
I pulled up in front of her apartment.
"Would you like to come up for some coffee?" she asked. When she looked at me, she gave me an encouraging smile.
I quirked a brow. For someone who was worried I was only after one thing, inviting me up to her place seemed like a strange plan. "When you say coffee, do you mean actual coffee or—"
She chuckled softly, her laugh echoing through the truck. "I mean, given your expression, if I let you drive off before you come up to my apartment, then I'll probably never see you again."
I chuckled. She had a point there, but I couldn’t show all my cards. "It's that bad, huh?"
"When you couldn't pay the valet, you looked as though you'd just lost a parent.” She reached over and touched my hand. A shot of electricity ran through my body when our hands connected. I looked down at her fingers, before looking back her way. “What happened?" she asked. She didn’t look like she was judging me, just that she was curious.
"I didn't have time to pay the bill, so I just dropped all my cash on the table before running after you."
She slowly pulled her hand back. An upset expression took over her eyes. "Oh…then it was my fault. I'm so sorry."
"Nah, it wasn't your fault. Don't worry about it. I would do it all over again. No regrets,” I said. “And sure, I'd love to come up and have some coffee."
I tend to drink coffee to make it through a hard day of work. After I've been up all night drinking, it usually tastes like tar. But it's doing a job, so I don't care.
Kemara and I got out of the truck. I went to her, reached out and grabbed her hand. She smiled as she took my hand in hers and we quietly headed up the steps to her apartment. A white elderly man came out of an apartment and Kemara immediately greeted him.
“Good evening, Lewis,” she said.
He nodded, but his eyes widened when he noticed Kemara and I holding hands. “Good evening,” he quietly stated, before we reached her door and she unlocked it.
Once we got inside, she let my hand fall from hers. “Follow me,” she said, motioning with her head for me to follow her to the kitchen.
I tried to ignore the fact that her neighbor gave us a look that we were doing something wrong and followed her to the kitchen. “You have a nice place,” I said, not remembering if I had mentioned it when I came to pick her up.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Thanks!” She then turned back to get the coffee.
Kemara had a coffee press, with every flavor of coffee you could think of. She prepared us both a brew, then poured the two mugs and handed me one. I thanked her and we took them to the living room.
So, there I was sitting on her couch drinking some caramel nutmeg concoction and I couldn't have been happier. It was nice just to talk to her in the relaxed setting, no more trying to impress, just two people trying to get to one another.
As the night wore on and she put her stocking covered feet in my lap, I gave her a foot rub and the conversation continued. If I ever told my friends about that night, they wouldn't believe me. Yet, all we did was talk. We laughed. We shared our dreams and our fears. Like I said before, there was something about her space that just invited me in. I opened up when I was with her. I didn't notice how long we'd been at it until sunlight began to flow through her windows.
"Have we been talking all night?" she asked, following my gaze.
I smiled. "I guess we have."
It didn’t seem possible, but just being there with Kemara made time pass by quickly and it was with little effort. I hated the date had to end, but knew it wouldn’t be our last.