Page 8 of Fervor

“Hello, Doctor Mott. I’m cool with Vegas. He invited me out.”

I could see her swallow from where I sat. The way her dark skin glistened under the club lights… I swore I wanted to see what it tasted like.

She nodded then sat across from me as Vegas’s lady nudged her. I could clearly tell they were sisters now. They resembled too much not to be. I scanned her body slowly, memorizing every curve. When my eyes lifted to her face, they met hers. She looked away but almost immediately brought them back to me, as if daring me to say more.

She didn’t know who she was fucking with. I was only restraining myself with her because I actually cared and didn’t want to offend her. Standing from my seat, I made my way to the vacant area next to her. I sat kind of close, and surprisingly, she didn’t try to scoot away from me. She turned to me and asked, “What do you do for a living, Mister Moore?”

“Outside of your professional space, I would much rather you call me Harlem. I’m a business owner. I own a few trucks that do hot-shot delivery, mostly to and from refineries.”

“Hmm. Where are you from?”

“H-Tine. You know something ’bout it?”

“Yep. That’s where I’m from.” She turned in her seat, angling herself toward me and tilted her head. “You used to be a street nigga, huh?”

I gave her a slight smile. “Why? Is that something you like?” I asked as I leaned forward a bit.

“That question only required a yes or no answer.”

I straightened up slightly, and said, “Yeah, I used to be. That a problem?”

“It could be,” she said then scooted over toward her sister. “That’s how you know Vegas, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I said as I rubbed my hand down the top of my head.

She obviously had a problem with street niggas. I couldn’t believe she was from Houston, and we had never met, knowing that we kind of ran in the same circles, especially since she knew Vegas and Jungle. I reached for her hand, and she gave me a slight smile. I had a feeling she was about to shoot me down, but I opted to shoot my shot anyway.

“So, Yunique, can I have your number? I would really like to get to know you better.”

She frowned slightly as she glanced down at our hands. “You can get to know me here. The only number you need is the number you called to make an appointment. Besides, I’m not interested.”

“Bullshit. I intrigue the fuck out of you. I can see that in your eyes and the way you damn near drinking me in. Be real.”

“I’m going to be getting married soon. That real enough for you?”

I lifted her hand, not seeing an engagement ring, and she snatched it from me. “Naw. That ain’t real enough for me. What man you agreed to marry that didn’t put a ring on that beautiful finger? You don’t even strike me as the type to accept a proposalwithout one. Since you don’t want to be real, I’m finna be real. I scare you. You don’t want a street nigga, because that was all you ever knew. I ain’t tryna hurt you. I just wanna see how far we could go… together. I’m done with that street shit and playing the field. I’m ready for the real deal.”

She turned away from me, and I could see her take a deep breath. When she turned back to me, she said, “I really am about to get married. I’m going to set everything up Monday.”

I frowned.What in the fuck is she talking about?“What’chu mean, set it up?”

“I’m going to Arranged Hearts. I’m tired of meeting riff raff. I don’t want the headache of filtering through the bullshit. They will do all that for me and match me with a future spouse.”

I frowned slightly. “They have a company here that does that?”

“Yes. They have an office in Houston too.”

“Well, shit. I may need to go do that shit, too, since you don’t want to get to know me. I’m willing to bet we’ll get matched though.”

She frowned. “What makes you think that?”

“Because deep down, I’m the kind of man you want.”

“Nique! Come on, heifer!”

I looked up to see a pretty, high-yella complected woman yelling for her. They looked to be stepping. I supposed they were in a sorority or whatever. She glanced at me then stood, leaving me alone to watch her pretty ass step. Her body moved with ease, with such fluidity. She was smooth. When she rolled her body, I wanted to grab my dick. She was teasing me, and I was all for it… for now.

As I watched her, I knew I would be going to Arranged Hearts, too, just to see if I was right about what I felt from her. For some reason, she seemed nervous around me, no matter how hard she tried to appear on the outside. Something aboutstreet niggas didn’t sit too well with her. She was going to find out that I was a smart nigga. I was good at reading people and piecing shit together. That was a quality trait I developed, being in and out those trap houses and dealing with fiends.