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Ace

“You nervous?”

“Hell, yeah,” I say. “This is big shit.”

“It is.” Colin leans back in his chair, wearing the same shit-eating grin he sported last time I got the lead on a project. It’s like he thinks he’s in on some private joke at my expense.

I run my hand over my waves. Cool as a cucumber, as far as they know, not letting Colin see me sweat. I’ve never screwed up before, and I don’t plan to this time around.

It’s classic hatin’ ass bullshit, and typical at my job.

“Project manager, dude. I’d be jealous if I wasn’t already rich,” Ian says as he casually adjusts his designer tie with his usual laid-back, trust fund energy.

I wave him off. Between the three of us, I’m the only one who worked for everything I have. Brick by brick, starting from first base, I built the kind of career people would kill for. I’m proud of that, but sometimes, especially now, with the weight of this project bearing down on me, I feel like I’m holding myself together with duct tape and fake confidence.

If I fuck this up, that tape is coming undone.

I adjust the cuffs on my suit, my hands steady, my shoulders squared. The late summer air is heavy, even in the shade of the patio umbrellas, and I’m growing uncomfortable. The distant hum of traffic matches the buzzing in my brain.

Across the small, round table, Colin leans toward me, folding his hands in front of him like he’s about to tell my something grave. But all he says is, “Dude. You’ll be fine.”

I nod like I already know that.

“You know what your problem is?” he says. “You overthink everything.”

“Maybe.”

“It’s true,” Ian agrees.

“So just…relax,” Colin says, sans shit-eating grin. “You already proved yourself.”

His words should calm me, but they don’t. They don’t get it. They can’t. I'm one of the top black engineers in the southeast, but every time I feel like I’ve earned a spot at the metaphorical table, the doubts creep in, along with the nagging little voice in the back of my head that sounds exactly like my mama's.

Twice as hard.

“Whoa…dude. Don’t look now, but that chick is staring at you.”

I don’t need to ask who Colin’s talking to, because there’s one area of my life that I never have any doubt about.

I cut my eyes to my left, then my right, where I spot her immediately, squinting as my mind puzzles through my confusion.

I know her from somewhere.

She’s dressed in black, her dark hair gleaming in the sunlight. It brushes her shoulders as she coyly averts her eyes. I can’t see her from the waist down, but I don’t need to. I’m the kinda nigga who can predict the existence of a fat ass just by the way a woman’s face looks.

She has that kind of face.

Round and soft.

“Dude, don’t stare.”

I bring my attention back to my coworkers. “Nah, I’ve seen her before. I just can’t place her.”

Ian shoots her a few unsubtle glances. “Fuck, man. She’s so hot.”

I chuckle at that. The way my coworkers talk about women versus my homeboys is always a trip. I wait for Colin to call her a smokeshow . That’s his emotional support word.

“She’s cool,” I say. “It’s bugging me, though. She looks so familiar.”

“That’s your opening, idiot. Go get her number.”

I shrug and take a sip of my water, hoping it calms the fire raging inside me. Because the truth is, she is hot. I sneak another glance and catch her smiling as she looks at something on her phone. Pretty white teeth. Pink lip gloss. Damn.

“Go get her number,” Colin urges.

“I got bigger fish to fry,” I say, though the pull to walk over there is getting stronger.

“I never thought I’d see the day Ace Taylor passes on pussy.”

“Whatever. I’m running point on this shit. I can’t be distracted.”

“See, pussy does the exact opposite for me,” Ian says. “Makes me feel like I can conquer the world.”

I resist the urge to tell him his ancestors already handled that for him. Instead, I glance at her again. I feel like I just caught her staring at me, but she turned her head so fast, it’s hard to tell.

“What the hell,” I mutter as I stand. “Order me a chicken sandwich.”

“Fuck, yeah,” Colin says, more excited about this than my career triumph. Typical.

She looks up at me and smiles when she sees me approaching.

Definitely a smokeshow.

I smile back as I take a seat across from her.

“You look so familiar to me.”

She blinks, then tilts her head. “Do I? Let me guess your next line… do you come here often ?”

I laugh, feeling perfectly at ease. “I’m serious.”

“Then I’m insulted,” she shoots back. “I like to think I’m memorable.”

I glance at her empty plate. “What did you eat?”

“Crab cake and a salad.”

I nod, suddenly at a loss for what to say. That’s rare for me.

“What’s your name?”

“Raya.” Her eyebrows lift. “Yours?”

“Ace.”

Her eyes flicker with recognition, it seems, but I might have imagined it.

“So, Ace,” she says, leaning forward. “Did you come over here just to tell me I look familiar?”

“That’s not the only reason.”

She smiles again and waits.

“Lemme get your number real quick.”

“Real quick?”

“I’m on my lunch break, Raya. I don’t have all day.”

She laughs softly, making the air around us feel lighter.

“Do you work around here?” she says.

“Right over there in the Optima building.”

Her eyes shift in that direction before refocusing on me. “Okay, Ace. You can have my number, but only if you call me tonight.”

“Oh, you givin’ orders now?”

“It’s not an order, it’s a deal. I don’t like having my time wasted.”

“What makes you think—“

“You have fuckboy energy,” she says. “No shade.”

I put a hand over my heart. “Damn. That hurt my feelings.”

She laughs, and it sounds like sunshine. “Just being honest. I’m not the kind of woman who’s gonna tell you what you wanna hear. I give it straight, no chaser.”

“I see.” I pull my phone out and hand it to her. “I like your vibe, Raya. And I will call you tonight. As you ordered.”

Our fingers brush briefly when she takes the phone out of my hand. She bats her eyelashes playfully, then looks down at my phone. She swipes a few times, her eyes darting across the screen like she’s reading. After a full minute of this, I finally say, “What are you doing?”

Her eyes flicker up and land on mine. “Your phone is weird. I’m trying to get to contacts.”

I grab the phone and hold it up. “Did you miss this big phone icon on the home screen?”

She laughs. “That’s embarrassing.”

“It should be. Just tell me. I’ll put it in since you’re used to flip phones, apparently.”

“Rude.” She calls out the numbers to me. When she pulls out her phone, I think she’s about to ask for mine. I recite my number, but she just shakes her head.

“I’m paying for my lunch,” she says with a smirk. “I’ll get your number tonight when you call me.”

I frown when I see she has an iPhone, but I don’t say anything. How the fuck did she miss that icon?

She stands, and I stand with her, letting my eyes flicker over her body. Black dress, black stilettos. Not bad.

“Can’t wait to hear from you, Ace. Tonight.”

“I got you.”

As soon as she turns, my eyes drop to her ass.

I knew it.

She switches away like she knows I’m watching, and I imagine all the disgusting fun I’m gonna have with her.

Colin whistles when I return to our table. “How’d it go?”

“Come on,” I say, grinning. “When does it ever go bad for me?”

Ian smirks. “It’s the power of the BBC.”

I roll my eyes. “Relax. Black people don’t say that shit, Ian. Yall white boys be the ones obsessed with that shit.”

Ian and Colin both laugh, because there’s no defense. We all know it’s true. But I’m distracted, my thoughts drifting back to Raya. Something about her feels familiar, but also brand new. Different. And I can’t shake the feeling that meeting her is the beginning of something.