bunch of soulless psychos. People don’t think. They don’t care about anyone but themselves.” His brows rutted and he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
She wanted to continue to discuss these sentiments with King but didn’t want to entertain whatever dark place he may have been drifting to, either. At times, King seemed optimistic, full of zest and passion, but then, there were times when he said things like this… just like at the club. Something happened to him. It had to have. I guess we’re all damaged to some degree, but he is struggling with this. His art is so beautiful, and yet, inside, he is so dark sometimes. Deviant.
“Do you have anything to eat in here?” She switched topics and looked around the backseat.
“Didn’t I just feed you, Seymour? Damn.” King laughed loud, obnoxious.
“I’m still hungry. That soup and those little fancy appetizers, though expensive and tasty, weren’t enough.”
“You had an entire entrée, too.” He shook his head. “Glove compartment. I have some chips in there.”
“I knew it!” She snatched it open, grabbed the half-eaten bag of Lays, and had her way with it. Xavier Omär’s, ‘If This Is Love’ came on in that moment. Perfect. They bobbed their head in unison and she smiled wide as they passed the Unisphere in Queens, her thoughts wandering back an hour or so ago to their date…
After they’d finished drinking, smoking, laughing, debating and listening to music, he took her in his arms and asked her if she wanted to go for a ride. Now they were cruising Long Island, the stars twinkling bright in the sky.
“I haven’t been over in Queens for at least a year. Maybe longer.” Feeling full, she rolled up the bag of chips, licked her fingers, and placed the snack back into the glove compartment.
“I come about once or twice a month to visit my father.”
“Does he make it to Harlem?”
“Yeah. He comes to see me, too.”
Outside, Christmas lights were strewn across one street. A bit too early for such a thing, but it looked nice nevertheless. Minutes passed, the music played, and he must’ve kissed her hand several times. There was a level of comfort, yet fresh excitement, that never went away when she was in his company.
“Can I tell you something?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’m infatuated with you.” She closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest. “I’ve had a good time tonight.”
“I like you, too.” He seemed to stiffen a little.
“Let me ask you something else.”
“All right.” He turned down another street, taking his sweet time. People milled about, and a sudden burst of loud Spanish music spilled from an open bar door.
“How do you feel?”
He tossed her a glance, then looked back out the window.
“I feel deeply…” When he said the words, she was stunned, impressed, and disturbed by his answer. He was uncharted territory that she wished to explore.
“I haven’t been out on a date, a real date, in a while. This is a nice change of pace.”
“When was the last time a guy took you out somewhere nice?”
“Hmm, well, probably about three months ago. When was the last time you stole some woman’s panties?” She chuckled, and he burst out laughing, too.
“You just won’t let that go, huh?”
“No. You’re going to give me back my damn underwear. It goes with my bra. It’s a set.”
“Well then, give me the bra, too. Why deprive me of a collection?”
“Give me the sixty dollars I paid for ’em, including an extra twenty percent and we have a deal.”
“Shit. I think you should be paying me with the way you tore those chips up. Where the hell are you putting all of this food at?” He reached over and quickly cupped one of her breasts. “Never mind. They answered.”
“The hell with you, King! Gimme my shit back. I’d make a police report if it weren’t a little embarrassing,” she teased. “You need help!”
They both were laughing hard now, her throat stinging from their mutual silliness. She was a grown ass woman, but felt like a little kid with him. There was something freeing in that, something that made her melt against his soul like an ice cube dropped in a flame. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion in that moment. It felt balmy, lusty, good all fucking over. He cut his eyes towards her; those gorgeous, rich cinnamon spheres caught her and wouldn’t let go. King was love. King was hate. King was everything in between, and she could relate.
“I’m not