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DEKE

“You’re meeting her outside the office?” Camille cut her eyes at the phone and stopped the rapid tapping on her keyboard.

It was Thursday, the day of the week when my sisters and I reserved at least thirty minutes of our time for a FaceTime call. Between her and my other sister, Whitney, they made me want to bash my head into a wall.

As much as they made me want to do that, though, I always looked forward to talking to them. It was better seeing their faces virtually than going months without.

When we were kids, it was easy to check in with each other and keep in touch, but as adults who were successful in their careers, we’d found that spare time was rare.

My sisters had pulled me out of some of the darkest seasons of my life, so though they could get under my skin like no one else, I made sure I carved out time in my schedule to catch up with them.

“That boy never listens,” Whitney said around a mouthful of puffy Cheetos.

“We’re just gonna have a couple of drinks while we discuss business. Why y’all tripping about it?” I adjusted the collar of my shirt, focusing on my reflection in the mirror.

Camille sighed and clacked away on her keyboard again. “You only take women out when you’re interested in them, Deke. We know you.”

“That’s a false accusation.”

“Please. If she was a man, would you have asked her to join you for drinks and business ?” Whitney countered.

“I might’ve.” I couldn’t help smirking at that.

No, I wouldn’t have, but unless I was hanging out with my boys Javier and EJ, there was no point in hanging around dudes outside of work. I was a man, but even I knew hanging with other men got boring as hell after a while.

“No! See, look at you! Grinning! Camille, talk some sense into this boy, please!”

Camille removed her glasses with a long-winded sigh.

“Uh-oh. Not the glasses coming off.” I slid my watch onto my wrist as Camille pursed her lips.

Camille was the oldest of us all, and she got tired of me and Whitney’s shenanigans real quick. Not that she wasn’t patient, she was just hella mature—way more than we were. Camille didn’t sugarcoat a damn thing she said, and she definitely didn’t play any games. It was why she was so good as a family law attorney.

“Yes, the glasses are coming off, because I need you to look me in the eye and promise you won’t do something stupid tonight. Just sign the deal, help the lady out, and be on your way. Her products are really good. I put on some of the shea lip balm at the office earlier, and it lasted me hours, and if you mess up that endless supply of lip balm for me, I will fight you.”

“And I’ll be jumping in to tag team your ass,” Whitney added with a breathy laugh. “I used the honey shea lotion after a couple of my showers, and it had my skin feeling like a newborn baby’s booty. Do not mess this up, Deke.”

“Look, it’s just drinks, all right? I’ll sign the contract as soon as we meet.”

“Should’ve done that at her office,” Camille muttered, settling her glasses on the bridge of her nose again. “You’ve made a terrible habit of roping people in just to let them down, Declan. Don’t go ruining people’s lives because of your inflated ego.”

“First of all, you know I hate when you call me by my real name. Secondly, I’m not going to ruin anyone’s life, all right? This Davina chick has a good vibe. I just want to know more about her business to make sure this is the right fit. And like y’all said, you love her products and want more, so why not build on that?”

“Sounds like a load of bullshit.”

“Whitney, seriously? Eli is in the room,” Camille said, sighing.

“Oh, sorry, Eli! Love you, baby! It’s not like he’s listening anyway. He’s always on his iPad.”

“ Anyway ,” Camille replied curtly. “Sign the contract, Deke, and move along. What is it about her that makes you want to build the business relationship, anyway? That sounds really weird coming from you. Any other time and you let bigmouth Arnold do all the talking ’cause you hate the business part.”

Camille’s question caught me off guard. She was right. I did hate talking business.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved money, but talking about it along with sales figures and percentages irked the fuck out of me. I stared at my reflection and pressed my lips as I searched for the answer.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I just respect her grind. She’s humble, and she has a good thing going with this skin care thing. Y’all know how hard it is for Black women to succeed out here. Gotta work twice as hard. Plus, she reminded me of y’all with the hustle and the confidence.”

I wasn’t going to tell them her sex appeal was a hell of a bonus. One look was all it took for me to lock in and memorize her heart-shaped face and her upturned brown eyes, which were like whiskey in the light.

She was so effortlessly put together, with a head full of tight natural curls, curvy hips, thick thighs, and a smile that could make any man stop dead in his tracks.

All the qualities I was looking for in my dream woman: Davina Klein had them.

“Aww,” Whitney cooed.

“Okay, that’s fine and dandy, but if I see any news leaks about you sliding your you-know-what in this woman, I’m not backing you up—especially if she decides to sue you down the line. Because you know that can happen, right? You’re inviting her to dinner, buttering her up, and throwing hella mixed signals. She could say you initiated the manner of your relationship, if her business declines.”

“Now you just sound like an attorney,” I said, gripping the edge of the counter and focusing on Camille. “Out of respect for her and her company, I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“All right,” Camille murmured. “Well, I know I can’t tell you what to do, so just be careful. Okay, playboy?”

I flashed her a smile. “I’m always careful.”

“And put some of her good lotion on your ashy-ass face,” Whitney said as she opened another bag of chips.

I couldn’t help laughing at that. “I’ll hit y’all later.”

“Bye, Deke,” Whitney sang.

“Behave, brother,” Camille added with an inclined brow.

When the screen went black, I studied my reflection again. All I could think was maybe my sisters were right. My ego was making me do some dumb shit.

But the night was already set, and though I could’ve had Arnold contact Davina and cancel, something told me I would regret not seeing her again.

And if there was one thing about me, I was going to follow that inner voice.

I didn’t know what it was about that woman. I admit, it had been the curve of her ass in those bright-peach pants and the full breasts beneath her shirt that had caught my eye first.

But then I looked at her— really looked at her—and felt like I’d been struck by a tiny bolt of lightning. Something buzzed between us—something I couldn’t quite explain.

All I knew was that I had to know more about her.

Who was this woman, and where had she been for the past thirty-three years of my life?

Davina was a magnet. From the moment I’d entered that office, she’d had an intense pull on me, and oddly enough, I wanted to feel that pull again.