Leslie's Curl & Dye Read online

  “So you’re trying to get me drunk so I’ll sleep with you?”

  “Too late for that,” he answered, reaching for the movies. “I just thought we could chill. Relax. Do stuff we both like doing, like we used to. Are you in a hurry to go home?”

  I shook my head and smiled. “No. I have all night.”

  “Good. That’s exactly how long I plan to take.” He picked up a remote and navigated to a menu, then gestured to the DVD’s. “Which one first?”

  “Hitch. Because if it sucks—”

  “We can fall back on Man on Fire,” he finished, grabbing the DVD and crossing the room to slide the disc into the player mounted below the TV. I looked up, noticing the surround sound speakers installed in the corners of the room.

  We pulled down the covers and crawled into bed, just like we did the night we slept together, and started the first movie. And argued over the first box of Jujubes.

  “Why do you always eat all the Jujubes? You know I like those, too.”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “Same reason you got a death grip on those Red Vines. How do you know I don’t want some?”

  I grunted a humph and handed him the package of red licorice. “Here. Have your Red Vines then. Give me those Jujubes.”

  “Nah,” he said, dumping out another handful of candy and pouring them into his mouth. “I’ma keep this box.”

  “Ugh, you’re a rude ass.”

  He leaned over and kissed my cheek, then my temple, then rolled over on top of me, working himself between my thighs. He was warm and firm, cocooned between our bodies. He lowered his head to whisper into my ear, low and husky. “You like my rude ass, though.”

  “I do.” I murmured, the movie already forgotten. I wriggled into position, looping my arms around his neck. “I really do.”

  I glanced at the alarm clock on the side table and my eyebrows shot up at the realization that it was nearly noon. KC was spooned around me, one arm under my pillow, the other across my hip and his chest at my back. I was comfortable and warm and worn out. And my inner thighs were deliciously sore.

  But I needed to pee.

  Slowly, I edged out from under KC and scooted to the edge of the bed, then almost fell out of it. As soon as my feet hit the rug, I made a beeline for the ensuite bathroom and eased the door shut.

  If my bladder wasn’t making such a fuss, I would have had time to admire the time and care that had gone into the design of the room. It wasn’t until I had achieved relief and was washing my hands that I noticed the double vessel sinks mounted on a teak grey cabinet, under a mirror that basically took up the whole wall.

  I found a soft terra cotta colored towel hanging from a stainless steel rack and dried my hands while I checked out the rest of the room— large, glass encased shower with four rainfall shower heads; the massive garden tub with jacuzzi jets and so much unused shelf space, I was already imagining all my bath salts and bubble concoctions lined up along the edge; and the toilet, which I noticed had been tucked away where it was almost inconspicuous. There was nothing relaxing about staring at the toilet while you were sitting in a jacuzzi tub.

  The room was painted in a soothing, muted blue grey that I probably wouldn’t like if it was described to me, but seeing it in action with the understated but classy decor, it had grown on me.

  I had intended to be quiet since KC was still asleep, but I yelped so loudly, I swore I heard an echo when I opened the door. He was leaning one arm against the doorjamb, his wide, bare chest in my face.

  “You made that sound a couple of times last night. Done checking out my bathroom, nosy?”

  I chuckled and stepped aside so he could come in. “Do you blame me? I don’t get to use the word pretty for bathrooms much.”

  “Yeah, it’s nice. My mom helped me put it together, the colors and the fixtures and everything. You should see what TC has going on next door.” He moved toward the toilet, then looked over his shoulder. “You staying in here? I mean, you’ve already seen all of me.”

  “While you pee? No thanks.”

  I left him alone in the bathroom and tried not to hear the sounds of him doing his morning routine. I walked into his closet, which was about the size of my apartment. Easily a hundred pairs of shoes, most of them Aris sneakers, were lined up on shelves on the wall, angled with toes pointing north so they were easy to grab. Long sleeved dress shirts and short sleeved polo shirts, casual slacks, jeans, belts, caps were all neatly hung in their respective sections. Along the wall were a couple of tall bureaus. I pulled one open and found t-shirts upon t-shirts. KC must have saved every shirt he’d ever been given. Playoff tees, championship tees, charity game tees, gifts from schools and universities and companies... every drawer was stuffed with them.

  I pulled out a random shirt from a 2012 charity basketball game and slipped it over my head. Then laughed because it nearly fell to my knees.

  I padded out of the closet and pulled the door closed. KC was out of the bathroom and was lounging on the bed. He frowned at me.

  “What?” I asked stopping at the edge of the bed.

  “I don’t know why you went through my drawers to find a shirt to put on. I’m just gonna take it back off.”

  I grinned, my body already coming to attention at the thought of morning… err afternoon sex. “I need to find my phone. I’m sure Tamera blew me up last night.”

  “Might be in the truck.” KC grunted as he sat up and threw the covers off of his body. He’d pulled on a pair of black boxer briefs that didn’t do much to conceal or control his erection. “I don’t remember you bringing your purse in.”

  “Don’t get up, I’ll go get it.”

  “You’ll get in that bed and be ready for me when I come back,” he said, dropping a kiss on my forehead as he passed me, then nudge me toward the bed. “That’s what you’ll do.”

  I huffed, but I wasn’t arguing all that hard. I climbed back up into the bed while I yelled, “Bossy!” at his retreating back. I picked up a remote and pointed it up at the TV mounted across the room. A morning news program popped on and the room was full of the sound of political pundits loudly arguing their points.

  I heard bare feet and looked up to find KC coming back into the room, my clutch in his hands. He tossed it to me and slid into the bed again. I zipped it open and pulled out the phone, which I had set on silent the evening before. I had just enough battery to check my messages.

  Just as I thought, I had several texts from Tamera, who at first wondered where I had disappeared to.

  Then she told me not to bother calling, because she already knew where I was.

  And called me a brazen hussy. I laughed to myself.

  I also had a text from Mama, who wondered if I was attending church with the family this morning. I felt a twinge of guilt at the thought that I was in bed with a man and they were at Solid Rock Church of Christ listening to Pastor Glen preach down the house. I promised myself that I would pray about it later.

  Much later, because KC wrapped an arm around me and slid me across the bed and up against the warmth of his body. I snuggled in close to him and finished scrolling my messages, checked my email for any changed appointments, then tossed the phone a few inches away.

  “Am I in trouble?” KC asked.

  “Oh, for sure. So am I. Mama texted.”

  “Uh oh. Ima get it from Ms. Lee. Were you supposed to be at church, sangin' about the Lord’s goodness and whatnot?”

  “Kinda. Instead, I’m in this bed, about to sang about KC’s goodness and whatnot.”

  “Hallelujah! Amen!”

  I nuzzled his neck, dropping kisses along his jawline from his ear to the edge of his mouth. He turned his head in time to catch a long, sweet smooch.

  “I like you in my bed, you know that?”

  “To be honest, I like me in your bed, too.”

  “I don’t just like you in my bed, though. I like you around. Like… in my life. I was serious about us being together. You think you could handle it if we
spent more time together?”

  “I think I can handle that. If you can.”

  “What do you mean, if I can? I’m not the one that’s been stomping around this town, mad about my shop.”

  “You act like I had no reason to be mad, KC.”

  “You had plenty reason to be mad. But if I was anyone else, it wouldn’t be so personal. That was about more than my shop.”

  “It was, was it?”

  “Yeah. It was all this… unresolved sexual tension—”

  “Oh, that’s what it was?”

  “ — between you and me. I get it, though. It can drive people crazy, make them scary—”

  “Scary? Are you scared of me?”

  “Girl, I'm terrified of you.”

  I laughed, moving around to sit on his lap. His hands fell to the roundest parts of my ass and squeezed. “So… what’s uhm…” I reached up to lay my hands on his shoulders and smoothed them down his inked arms, then back up, concentrating on the images embedded in his skin. “They’re beautiful, so… intricate. What are they about?”

  He glanced down at each arm and rolled his shoulders, as if he hadn’t looked at his own artwork in a long time. “I was on TV all the time and I wanted to be loud about things that were important to me. So, I decided to tie everything together with my mom. This is for MS.” He brushed his finger across a vivid orange ribbon. I realized, then, that all of the colors and images coordinated with that single tattoo. “There’s some symbols that mean hope, love, family. She likes hummingbirds, so there’s a couple of them. Her favorite color is blue-green, like that jewel tone. Had to get a couple with that color in them.”

  “Does she like the tatts?”

  He smiled. “Not really. She’s touched that I did all this and she’ll never say it, but she’s not a big fan of tatts. So, I stopped updating the sleeves. And… well, I ran out of room. And because it didn’t do what I wanted it to do.”

  “Which was?”

  “Make me feel like I could do something for her. Give me some hope that there would be a cure for MS and my mom would be with us longer.”

  I made a throaty, sympathetic sound that produced a half smile. I cupped his chin with one hand, my thumb grazing the stiff hairs that had grown into his goatee overnight. He turned his head to kiss my palm, then leaned forward and kissed my mouth. We both moaned softly when our lips met.

  Between us, he stirred under the fabric of his boxer briefs. I dug for the always-present hole in men’s underwear and pulled him out, rubbing the tips of my fingers along his length. “Well, good morning.”

  “Y’all gotta have a conversation?”

  “We might need one.” I scooted back far enough to be eye level and took him in my hands. “Let’s see if he has anything to say to me.”

  KC squirmed in anticipation. I caught the faint scent of cologne lingering on his skin. The mental image of him rubbing his palms together and stroking himself with the hope— or assumption that I would eventually make my way down here made me throb.

  I blew a warm breath across the head and felt him pulse in response. I stuck out my tongue and took a long, wet, wide swath across and then around his head, then down one side and up the other and around again, using my hands and my vocal chords— humming like a vibrator, squeezing, rubbing, twisting.

  KC was obviously enjoying it, grunting and thrusting himself into my mouth. Once he started rolling his hips and twisting the sheets bunched in his fists, I knew he was close.

  And so did he. He reached down and cupped my chin, pulling me off of him, then bringing me to him for a wild, intense kiss. When our lips parted, he pointed toward the strip of condoms he’d left on the nightstand. I reached over and grabbed one, ripped it open and rolled it on.

  “I wanted to finish inside you,” he said, resuming our kiss while pushing me until I was laying back on the bed. He hooked an arm behind each of my knees and positioned himself above me. “And I got some more that I want to say to you.”

  I ended up smack in the middle of the bed, with most of a 240 pound man resting on top of me. With my thighs locked around him, he didn’t have an option to move, but he also wasn’t arguing about being held there.

  “Am I too heavy?” KC mumbled, his lips brushing against the breast he was laying on. “You want me to move?”

  “Not necessarily. But uhmmm… aren’t you hungry?”

  “Starving,” He answered, lifting his head. I was rapidly learning that the way to KC’s heart was with food. “You cookin’?”

  I laughed, then laughed again at his incredulous expression. “Oh, I don’t cook. I know how to… I just don’t.”

  KC groaned. “So you wait until I’ve had a taste of the good-good to drop in stuff like you don’t cook. How do you eat?”

  “My mama! And before that, my Grandy. She’d whoop my tail if I tried to take over her kitchen. You know that.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know that life, Les. My mother had no trouble giving up control of her kitchen. You’re saying I might starve to death?”

  “Fool, have you seen these thighs?” I tightened them around him. He groaned again, smoothing a palm down one, to my calf and back up again. “I eat. You’re gonna eat.”

  “So you’re saying you’re gonna fix me something?”

  “No, I’m saying I’m you to Helen’s Kitchen. Potter Lake’s best soul food restaurant.

  KC’s eyes lit up. “Soul food?”

  “Yes,” I said, giggling. “So back in Potter Lake’s humble beginnings, Helen used to sell plates out of her kitchen on Friday nights. She got so popular, her husband found her a building. She recruited some ladies to help her cook and Helen’s Kitchen was born. It’s pretty much where Potter Lake eats after church. You could meet a ton more people, including Helen. Getting her on your side would go a long way in turning the tide in your direction.”

  “Old black ladies cookin’ sounds like a good meal. I guess I should get back to thinking about this job I’m trying to get.” KC sat up, stretching his long limbs and emitting a lion’s roar of a yawn.

  “Why don’t you hop in the shower and get dressed, then you can take me home?”

  “Who said I was taking you home? We’re not done talking.”

  “Am I supposed to go to lunch in your t-shirt and no underwear?”

  KC chuckled, leaning in for a kiss. “I think you look good in my shirt. Throw a belt on and some slides and you’re good.”

  I laughed and pushed him back before we got caught up again and I passed out from hunger. “Shower! I’m hungry.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Leslie

  * * *

  KC let me borrow a pair of shorts and some flip flops so I could get home and change. I crossed my fingers that my family would observe their usual Sunday habits— church, then lunch and then a visit with Grandy. As the Escalade rounded the corner, I breathed a sigh of relief to see the empty spot where Mama’s car usually sat.

  I directed him to park in my spot and unhooked my seatbelt. “I’m just going to grab a super quick shower and change. I promise I’ll be fast and be right back down.”

  KC leaned back in his seat and turned the music down and the air up. “I’m leaving in twenty minutes. You better be in this truck.”

  “If you leave without me you better sleep with one eye open and grow eyes in the back of your head. Don’t forget Tamera is crazy and I’m right behind her.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Ya’ll some big talkers, always have been. Just hurry up, aight?”

  I laughed, hopped out and bounded up the stairs as fast as I could bound in flip flops and shorts that were many sizes too big. I unlocked my apartment and dropped the bag that I’d stuffed with last night’s outfit on the couch, then rushed through my bedroom to the bathroom to start the shower.

  The pipes were old and the water heater needed to kick in, so I liked to let the shower run for a few minutes. I went back to my bedroom to sift through my closet for something to wear. I’d settled on a pair o
f skinny jeans and a peasant blouse with long, flowing sleeves when my cell phone rang out with Tamera’s ringtone.

  I glanced at it, then glanced at the shower, and then glanced at the phone again. Then I sighed, knowing she would keep calling until I answered.

  “T, I don’t have time to talk. I’m trying to get in the shower so we can go to lunch.”

  “Well, good afternoon to you too, Leslie. How you feeling? A little uhm… sore?”

  I chuckled, a sly smile on my lips. “I’m okay. But I seriously don’t have time to talk. Can I call you later?”

  “No need. I was making sure the man hadn’t sexed you to death. I’m only going to ask you this once— are you sure this is what you want?”

  I dropped onto the bed, cradling the phone between my shoulder and my ear. “I don’t even know how to answer that, Tam. But last night was fun. And tonight is going to be fun. And tomorrow might be fun. And frankly, I’m sick of sitting up under my mama and daddy— and my best friend, watching a dumb dating game show. I want to actually date.”

  “Okay, hon. I just… you know…”

  “You care. And you’ll be the first to know if I change my mind. He asked for a chance and I want to give that chance to him. I need to do this. I also need to go. I just have a couple of minutes to change and I’m taking him to lunch.”

  “Aight, I won’t keep you. Where y’all going?”

  “Helen’s,” I said, my voice muffled by trying to pull the t-shirt over my head. “I figured it would be a good place for him to meet more people. And get some good food.”

  “Oh yeah, half of Potter Lake will be out there this time of day. Well, when you come out from under KC, you have my number. I’ll tell you where I ended up last night.”

  “What do you mean, where you ended up?”

  “Naw, you in a hurry to go have lunch with your man. We’ll talk later.”

  “Tamer—” She hung up on me. I rolled my eyes and grabbed my kit, covered my head with a cap and headed for the shower. Fifteen minutes later, I was back downstairs— fresh faced, my locs pulled into a low ponytail and my feet in a pair of sandals. I climbed back into the truck to find KC staring at his phone, a deep “V” between his brows.