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Bailey

“ W hy can’t I just find a man over thirty who I don’t have to worry about mistaking my skinny jeans for his?” I complained as I reclined in my office chair, looking at nothing in particular.

“You think he was gay?” My best friend, Marlow, laughed as she perched on the corner of my desk, listening to me complain about another failed attempt to find love.

“No, asshole! He wasn’t gay, but it burns me to my soul when I see a grown ass man in ankle-length skinny jeans, with no damn baby oil or something on them.

” I leaned my head back and rolled my eyes toward the ceiling and silently fumed.

This was the third time this month I went on a date with a man I met online.

I had doubts about signing up for the stupid dating site, but Marlow, being the persuasive person she is, talked me into it.

And after last night’s fiasco, I was going to cancel the damn subscription and hopefully not smack her for talking me into that bullshit.

“So, what happened?” Marlow asked, moving from the corner of my desk to one of the leather chairs across from me.

“Well, for starters, his ass showed up a half hour late. Then his pants were so fucking tight I could see his moose knuckle?—”

“His what?!” Marlow screamed then threw her head back as she laughed a little too loudly.

“His moose knuckle. You know how women have camel toe when they wear something tight? If I can see the outline of a man’s balls, it’s a moose knuckle.

” I shrugged my shoulders before I continued, “Anyway, his pants were tight as fuck and his ankles looked like he’d been playing in flour.

His shoes were so run over I was surprised he wasn’t walking in circles, and to top it off, before we ordered our meal, he asked if I could pay! ”

“No, he didn’t!” Marlow shrieked, trying to catch her breath from laughing.

“Yes, he did! Girl, I just got the hell up and walked off because his online profile was nothing like the person I met; girl, my ass got catfished,” I just shook my head, trying to hide my amusement while Marlow continued to laugh at my expense.

It was ok that she laughed at me because I laughed about it too when I drove home last night.

I was really trying to understand when the hell men got so messed up.

Most of the men I encountered nowadays always had their hands stuck out, wanting something for nothing.

I was an independent, successful, intelligent, and fine ass Black woman.

Not to toot my own horn, but beep-beep, muthafucka.

I was definitely a perfect catch, so why couldn’t I find my equal in a man?

The number of men I went on dates with who had the audacity to ask me to pay for the meal and give them some pussy was astonishing.

Who gets turned on by a man with no ambition?

No job? Well, the answer was not me , that’s for damn sure.

“What about that guy Oscar you went out with? He seemed to be on your level. You said he owned his own business, smelled nice, and was handsome.” I narrowed my eyes at Marlow because I couldn’t tell if she was genuinely curious about Oscar or subtly making fun of me.

“Yeah, he was all that, the problem was he wouldn’t shut up about his business, which by the way wasn’t that successful.

I looked his ass up, he had a terrible third quarter, but he was too self-absorbed.

I don’t mind confidence or cockiness, but if you’re going to be that you have to back it up.

Walk it like you talk it.” I scoffed just thinking about that lame.

“Well, what the hell are you looking for?” Marlow asked. She tilted her head as she studied me, her brown eyes filled with curiosity.

“I want a man that has his shit together. I don’t want a man that’s trying to recapture his youth, I want a man that takes pride in being a man.

He goes to work, he’s ambitious, and does not have a million kids by a million women, and I don’t want his pants tighter than mine,” I finished, dramatically throwing my hands in the air.

“Well damn, when you meet him, ask him if he has a brother,” Marlow said jokingly, and I gave her the middle finger because Marlow was happily married to a man who had all of those qualities, as far as I knew.

My friend tried, although unsuccessfully, to set me up with one of her husband’s friends.

However, I felt like that was too close to home because, if things didn’t work out, I didn’t want to put anyone in an awkward position, so I gracefully declined.

We sat in silence for a few seconds until the intercom on my desk buzzed.

“Ms. Henson, your two o’clock is in the conference room,” my assistant’s voice blared through the speaker.

“Thanks, Penny. Make sure they’re comfortable. I’ll be there in a second.”

I let out a nervous breath because I spent weeks working on this account and I hoped I got it because it would put our company on a new level.

“Don’t worry, girl, you got this!” Marlow exclaimed with enthusiasm, reading my worried expression correctly.

The ability to read body language and nonverbal expressions made Marlow an excellent attorney, in my opinion, and the fact that we have known each other since junior high also helped Marlow’s ability to be in tune with my energy.

“But Giada Morretti is so intimidating, have you seen the color of her eyes? Shit, just one look from her and I want to crawl under my desk.” I felt my anxiety increase thinking about my pending meeting.

I’ve heard rumors about Giada, rumors that alleged she was the leader of an organized crime syndicate and that she was just as ruthless in business meetings as she was in the streets.

But nothing was ever proven about her street business, and I believed that the only reason those rumors started was because of who Giada’s father was before he died.

His name was Vincent Morretti, and he was the head of an organized crime network called The Syndicate.

Before I accepted this meeting, I had Marlow run an extensive background check on Giada and her businesses, and everything came back clear.

As long as Giada’s check cleared the bank, she remained professional, and not currently involved in anything illegal, I would do business with her.

“The fact that you got her to agree to this meeting is a big deal. Word on the street is that she doesn’t do business with many people, but if you keep her waiting…

” Marlow purposely let her voice trail off so that I would get the hint that I needed to pack up my marketing materials and get to my meeting.

Before walking into the conference room, I let out a deep breath before I opened the door with a bright smile on my face.

Once I crossed the threshold, Giada’s strangely colored eyes were locked on me as she tracked my movements like a hawk while I made my way to the head of the table where I began to turn on the video monitors for the presentation.

“Thank you for coming today; my name is Bailey Henson, the co-founder?—”

“I know who you are.” Giada cut in, and I was surprised by the soft rasp of her voice.

I studied her for a moment because I felt overdressed.

She was in a pair of black and red Jordan 1’s, black distressed jeans, and a red hoodie.

Although she looked laid back and was dressed too casually for a business meeting, her aura still exuded money, power, and respect.

That’s why I assumed her voice would be loud and booming and not soft and husky.

If I were into women, I would definitely be turned on.

I took another breath and dove right into my presentation.

I heard through the grapevine that Giada Morretti was looking to diversify her business portfolio.

She already owned real estate all over the place and four of the hottest nightclubs in the city.

Now she wanted to open grocery stores that would provide fresh food selections in food deserts throughout Cincinnati, and she was looking for a company to handle the marketing and advertising for the first store’s grand opening.

If this meeting went well and we signed Giada, her business could open a lot of doors for Henson Giada was so hard to read, she has the best damn poker face I’ve ever seen.” I let out an exaggerated breath. “I’m so glad it’s over.”

Marlow cackled, “Well, I knew you would land the account. I had so much confidence in you that I already had the contracts sent to her attorney to look over five minutes before your meeting!” I winced when Marlow slapped my back a little too hard.

“I have to go use the pot-pot. I’ll be back! ” she announced.

I sat at the bar sipping my apple martini when the bartender slid a new martini in front of me, “From the gentleman,” he said, nodding his head toward the end of the bar.

I gave the bartender a small smile and turned my head toward the end of the bar to see the gentlemen who bought me a drink and damn near choked.

Damn, he’s fine, I thought to myself as I squinted my eyes to see him more clearly.

He looked familiar but because the bar was dim, I couldn’t make out his face completely, but he was definitely famous, like snap finger famous.

You know how you seen a person before, but you don’t know where or when and you hope snapping your fingers will help knock the memory loose, that’s how I was feeling about the fine man at the bar.