Page 2 of Cause When You Love Someone

“Of course not. I’m trying to win best dressed this year. That title comes with sacrifice.”

“You’re counting on your looks. How are your grades?”

She dusted off her shoulders while saying, “Straight As, per usual.”

“My dawg,” I replied, bumping my fist against hers. “I want you to stay pretty and remain smart. Even if you turn into an ugly duckling, you can use your brain to make your own money.”

I showered Isabella with affirmations and warnings until we entered the mall, and she pointed out Auntie Annie’s.

I hung back as she ordered a bunch of snacks I knew she wouldn’t finish, then I stepped forward when it was time to pay.

Isabella called me cheap every chance she could, yet she knew she could get anything out of me.

Aside from my club brothers and my best friend, Essen, she was the only person who could break my pockets.

For at least two hours, we walked through the mall, going into nearly every store we passed. I spent a pretty penny in Lulu Lemon and in the Gucci store, so I breathed a sigh of relief when she pulled me into Bath & Body Works.

The edges of my lips turned up as I silently thanked God for blessing me with financial stability. Even though I didn’t believe He approved of some of the ways I earned a living, I knew His protection allowed me to make it home every night.

“All right, Ish. After this, I just need to run to MAC for lip gloss, then we can go sit down and have lunch.”

“MAC? What happened to the beauty supply? Back in the day, that’s what the girls used to wear.”

“Back in the day? Really? You’re twenty-nine, not seventy.”

We laughed as we turned away from the register, but our lighthearted moment came to a halt when we saw a crowd rush into the store. Out of instinct, I positioned myself in front of my sister.

“Excuse me! Excuse me!” A cashier came from behind the counter, waving her arms in the air. “If you’re not purchasing an item or inquiring about purchasing, you must leave the store. We are at capacity!”

Izzy tugged on the sleeve of my hoodie, garnering my attention.

“Do you know who that is? The person they’re trying to see?” she squealed.

“I can’t see through all the people, but obviously, you can.”

I focused on the entrance of the store and saw that a walkway had been curated for the source of the chaos.

A lady no taller than five-foot-five swaggered through the place in white fur that swept the dusty floor.

Butt-length hair poured down her back, and skinny, black shades covered her eyes.

A crinkle of a smile put her cheekbones on display, though I could sense her expression wasn’t authentic.

“C. Rose!” Isabella cheered, slapping my shoulder. “I have to get an autograph and a picture.”

“Aye, calm down. What does she do? Sing? Act?”

Isabella’s gaze drifted to the floor. “She used to be on ‘ Hotties of the West Coast’ , but recently, she became a cast member on ‘The Wave’ .”

“She’s a reality star? That’s what all the fuss is about?” I groaned. “Girl, let’s go.”

“Not until I get my autograph!”

“Izzy!” I shouted between clenched teeth, but she was already out of arm’s reach .

From a few steps away, I watched Isabella weave through the group of fans until she was leading the pack.

A chubby, bald man guarding the overdressed lady extended his hand to stop her, but he was too slow.

My persistent sibling karate chopped the bodyguard in the center of his neck, causing him to catch his throat in his hands.

“Oh, shit!” C. Rose snickered as she removed her sunglasses to reveal a pair of orbs the same hue as a penny. Her slender nose and permanent pucker fit her face, and despite the makeup she wore, I could tell she was young. At first glance, she reminded me of a young Chaka Khan.

During my daydream, a deep grumble caught my attention. C. Rose’s protection stumbled toward Izzy with a screwed-up face. My first thought was to drop him with no words, but the idea of being arrested in front of Isabella changed my mindset.

“Trust me. It’s not worth it,” I vowed, lifting my hoodie to show the gun tucked in my waistband. He was an armed guard, but I would bet every cent I owned he wouldn’t be able to pull his pistol before I sent a bullet through his forehead.

“Yeah, okay.” Big man sized me up before looking past me. “C. Rose, you good?”

I spun around in time to catch the reality star roll her eyes and wave him off.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” She addressed my hyper sibling.

“Isabella, but everyone calls me Izzy.” She faced me and snatched my beanie off my head. “Can you sign my hat?”

“What the hell?” I groaned.

“You have a million of these. You won’t miss it, Ishmael.”

C. Rose giggled at our exchange and autographed the cashmere cap.

“What are you doing in the mall without real security?” Izzy asked as if reading my mind.

C. Rose’s pouty lips turned down on the ends like the thought triggered annoyance. “I don’t normally shop for myself, but my personal shopper quit, and my assistant is attending a funeral. I didn’t have the patience to wait on a delivery.”

My weight shifted from one foot to the other as I dissected her tone. Her voice reminded me of the tone girls used on the party line. Soft. Whiny. Fake.

“Where did you learn the karate move you used on Chunks?” C. Rose wondered aloud.

“My brother. We took a few lessons together. He’s a part of a security company too.” The motormouth dug in her purse and pulled out a business card she must have snatched from my truck. “Take this. You need real protection on your team. Don’t let the glasses fool you. He’s the real deal.”

C. Rose’s perfectly arched brows twitched when she looked at me, then back to the wounded guard massaging his neck. His vision raced to his boots when he spotted all eyes on him.

“Izzy, let’s go.”

She sulked, but she followed me to the exit. “It was nice to meet you, C. Rose!”

The silence that followed caused me to look over my shoulder. C. Rose had already turned her back to the mob and placed her shades back over her eyes.

Every few months, I had the urge to date.

Most times, the idea came about after talking to Isabella or seeing the interactions between my club brothers and the women they fell for.

I had never been easily influenced, but my guilty pleasure was seeing something I wanted and working until it was in my hands.

Though I was on my third date in a month, I nervously waited for Presley to arrive. My last few meetups had been unsuccessful, but my conversations with Presley flowed naturally, so I kept my word and showed up.

As I fiddled with the empty cocktail glass on the table, I glanced at the bar, where my best friend and my favorite hater watched me.

It was out of character for me to need a chaperone, but I asked them to sit in a corner of the restaurant during my date.

After the last one, I didn’t want to run the risk of having to stop another crazy broad from trying to steal from me.

When Durk and Essen waved and danced in their seats, I looked away. The pair were cousins who argued like siblings. When I met Shiloh—the president of S.O.E—he introduced me to his little sister and cousin. It took some time, but over the last few years, we became attached at the hip.

I moved to check the time on my phone, but a sweet scent tickled my nostrils.

With the grace of a supermodel, Presley tossed her big hair over one shoulder when she reached the table.

“It’s good to see you, beautiful,” I commented while pulling out her chair.

“Thank you. It feels good to be seen.”

Once I settled across from Presley, I admired how much she looked like her photos. It was obvious she could get filter happy, but it wasn’t enough to make her look like a stranger in person.

Before we got down to the basics, a server walked over and took our drink orders. Presley requested red wine, and I asked for a club soda. I liked a glass of brown liquor like the next man, but drinking in the company of a stranger wasn’t my style.

“I’m happy you picked Blanco’s. It’s one of my favorites,” Presley noted.

“Good to know.” I gestured toward the menu. “What would you recommend?”

“The tomahawk for sure,” she suggested, bouncing around in her seat.

“Bet. We can order whenever you’re ready.”

In the meantime, Presley went on and on talking about herself, but I didn’t mind. I loved a confident woman, and I appreciated not having to feed the awkward silence with my business.

“You’re telling me where you are now. Tell me where you’re going,” I replied to her rambling. “Do you want kids? I don’t recall you answering that question when we spoke.”

“If I never have one, I’ll survive. Children are an extension of their parents. I don’t want my kids to be a reflection of any man I’ve been with. I’d die if they inherited their ways. What about you?”

“First comes love, then comes marriage. I’m not looking to have kids with anyone except my wife.”

“Oh. Mr. Traditional?” She snickered. “I bet that traditional shit goes out the window when it comes to premarital sex.”

I nodded at her calling me out. “Touché.”

Our server entered our bubble and placed our drinks on the table. “Are you ready to order?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but Presley cut me off and ordered what seemed like one of everything on the menu. Uneasy, I stirred in my seat, thinking about the amount of money I would spend on a woman I knew I would never see again.

“All right. Enough about me,” Presley continued once we were alone.

“I’m so happy we finally got to meet in person.

I will admit, I looked you up. Someone had you tagged in an old high school yearbook picture.

Being raised in the projects, I thought you would be . . . different. A little more hood.”

My jaws tightened, knowing where the conversation was going. “We’re in a Michelin Star restaurant. What do you expect me to do? Stand on the table and piss on the floor?”