BROWN SKIN | BOOK 1

|| C H A P T E R . 6 (Part I) ||

He came over every once in awhile.

Beau I mean, and not as often as I wanted him to.

Occasionally when I had busy work hours helping customers, he would appear when I least expect it in the same black stool like always or not showing up at all for a couple of days.

Sometimes Beau spoke rapidly in the phone to the other line when I glanced over at him, his head turned or tucked away from the surroundings that wrapped around him. His mouth would barely part, but his tone was sharp and cut short like a petite gray blade. Other times we would have a full-blown conversation and he would ask me about little nothings that never mattered, just to spark some talk out of each other.

"What else do you do?" He would ask after talking secretly on the phone, less cold and more even-tempered and coolly collected.

"What else do I do?" I repeated, gaining time to think of a good answer.

"Yeah, besides working at White Marbles."

He wanted to know what I did outside of work. I wasn't the most interesting person to differentiate myself from other girls if that's what he's asking if it be relatable to his interest or not, considering I'm pretty mediocre.

"Nothing really, I just dance," I said, shrugging my shoulders.

Beau's eyebrows raised with an impression and I could've sworn his eyes brightened.

"Like a stripper?"

My mouth almost dropped open and the saliva that I should've swallowed got stuck down my throat as I laughed and choked too loud at the same time. I can't believe he said that, oh God, imagining myself being one is unbelievable, let alone, I can barely climb a pole.

"No," I said in-between short breaths, "Like a ballet or tap dancer except my studio does various styles of hip-hop out of all the dance genres. Why would you say a stripper?" I giggled.

He leaned back a little in his seat, "I don't know, I thought that you were using a code word for it so no one would hear you say it aloud."

I shook my head and tried to hide the grin as I made my way to the back to continue grabbing fresh steaming plates.

Maybe that was only a couple days or weeks ago, yet I was searching for his dark hair and appealing eyes throughout the hustled white chic restaurant.

At the house, baby Elijah sat on one of my thighs at the kitchen table with Jewelz by my side, sitting Indian style in the kitchen chair. Her bronze feet and toes crossed over the other in a fitted position.

We tried to catch up on old past times and memories we would never get back again. I guess it was working because it felt like a year has shed by with all the caught up details and events I missed.

"It's Chinese Eggplant with Garlic Sauce." Jewelz persuaded, making me take a bite and Elijah slapping his hands on the marble table.

I covered my nose and inspected the nasty fruit that was shriveled up like naked animal skin in the dark sauce. "It's good!" she exclaimed, her expression widened with enthusiasm to seem more convincing.

"Even though my grandmother raised me as a vegan, this is probably one of the most delicious and easiest meals to make."

Simone walked by, flapping her feet on the Mediterranean mosaic tiles under her heels, "The only Asian grandmother." She pointed out.

"Yes," Jewelz said sipping her natural green tea but not before constricting her eyes in a straight line at Simone, "The only one that's currently living. My dad knew nothing about Asian food."