she’d turned down the oh-so-charming Toussaint Livingston was because she saw him for what he was—trouble with a capital
T
. She’d been caught off guard at their initial meeting, having forgotten the name of the man whose car she’d tried to protect months before. But she hadn’t forgotten one detail about
him
—that tall, lean body, killer smile, and gorgeous eyes that had made her mouth water and her kitty cat wet. She’d never reacted to a man the way she had to Toussaint and knew she was treading dangerous waters by taking him on as a client. At the end of the day, it was an astute business decision. But personally …
As if it would help her erase these thoughts, Alexis shook her head and stepped away from the large bay window in her two-bedroom condo. She continued to sip coffee as she surveyed her kingdom—a cunning combination of Spanish modern and American contemporary, comfortably formal withhints of eclectic whimsy that showcased Alexis’s style. The condo was small, less than a thousand square feet, but everything in it was quality and classy, much like its owner.
Alexis eyed her cell phone sitting on one of the ebony blocks. She thought about calling her best friend, Kim, but knew she’d be with her in-laws. Another best friend had joined the peace corps. Alexis had to wait until that friend called her. “Maybe I should call Mama,” she mused out loud, picking up her cell. She held the phone in her hand and contemplated the possible outcome of the call. Would Mrs. Barnes be in a rare good mood, or would she be talking about Alexis’s brothers and the latest trouble surrounding them? And how much money would she ask for? That was how the calls usually ended, with Mrs. Barnes asking for some money “to hold until the first.” Of course, Alexis always sent the money, knowing she’d never see it again. It wasn’t that Alexis minded helping her mother. She didn’t. It was that much of the money went to support her unemployed brothers and alcoholic stepfather that Alexis couldn’t stand. No, she concluded, calling Missouri was not a good idea.
“That’s it, Alexis. Go … anywhere!” She finished her coffee as she strode to her room, thinking of what she could wear that didn’t need ironing. When she turned the corner and entered the hallway to her bedroom, her eyes went to where they often did—to the grouping of photos that artfully lined the wall on both sides. She stopped, focusing on one picture in particular. It was of a handsome, dark-skinned man looking proud and distinguished in a double-breasted navy suit. He wasn’t smiling, but a devil-may-care twinkle in his eye belied the picture’s serious tone. His evenly shaped lips were framed by a tidy mustache, and his hair, which was liberally streaked with gray, was combed away from his face. Thomas Alexander St. Clair was the first man to tell Alexis she was beautiful, the first to take her on a date, and the first man she’d loved. Her father wasalso the reason she was afraid to love again. But Alexis didn’t want to think about that now.
Thirty minutes later, a casually dressed Alexis walked into Taste of Soul. The sounds of Archie Bell & the Drells immediately welcomed her. This quartet thumped out a mean beat, using drums, bass, guitar, and organ, and encouraged everyone to “tighten up” and “make it mellow.” She reached for a takeout menu and began to scan her choices.
“You gotta do the ribs, pretty girl.” A skinny, plain-looking man wearing a stark white apron spoke to her from behind the counter. “I cooked them myself, just for you.”
“Then I guess I should try them,” Alexis politely countered.
“Yeah, and you should try going out on a date with me too!”
“Stop harassing our customers, Bobby!” Chardonnay said, playfully smacking him upside the head as she walked up to the register. “Don’t pay any attention to him, ma’am. He’s
special.”
Chardonnay and Alexis shared a laugh. “But
T
. She’d been caught off guard at their initial meeting, having forgotten the name of the man whose car she’d tried to protect months before. But she hadn’t forgotten one detail about
him
—that tall, lean body, killer smile, and gorgeous eyes that had made her mouth water and her kitty cat wet. She’d never reacted to a man the way she had to Toussaint and knew she was treading dangerous waters by taking him on as a client. At the end of the day, it was an astute business decision. But personally …
As if it would help her erase these thoughts, Alexis shook her head and stepped away from the large bay window in her two-bedroom condo. She continued to sip coffee as she surveyed her kingdom—a cunning combination of Spanish modern and American contemporary, comfortably formal withhints of eclectic whimsy that showcased Alexis’s style. The condo was small, less than a thousand square feet, but everything in it was quality and classy, much like its owner.
Alexis eyed her cell phone sitting on one of the ebony blocks. She thought about calling her best friend, Kim, but knew she’d be with her in-laws. Another best friend had joined the peace corps. Alexis had to wait until that friend called her. “Maybe I should call Mama,” she mused out loud, picking up her cell. She held the phone in her hand and contemplated the possible outcome of the call. Would Mrs. Barnes be in a rare good mood, or would she be talking about Alexis’s brothers and the latest trouble surrounding them? And how much money would she ask for? That was how the calls usually ended, with Mrs. Barnes asking for some money “to hold until the first.” Of course, Alexis always sent the money, knowing she’d never see it again. It wasn’t that Alexis minded helping her mother. She didn’t. It was that much of the money went to support her unemployed brothers and alcoholic stepfather that Alexis couldn’t stand. No, she concluded, calling Missouri was not a good idea.
“That’s it, Alexis. Go … anywhere!” She finished her coffee as she strode to her room, thinking of what she could wear that didn’t need ironing. When she turned the corner and entered the hallway to her bedroom, her eyes went to where they often did—to the grouping of photos that artfully lined the wall on both sides. She stopped, focusing on one picture in particular. It was of a handsome, dark-skinned man looking proud and distinguished in a double-breasted navy suit. He wasn’t smiling, but a devil-may-care twinkle in his eye belied the picture’s serious tone. His evenly shaped lips were framed by a tidy mustache, and his hair, which was liberally streaked with gray, was combed away from his face. Thomas Alexander St. Clair was the first man to tell Alexis she was beautiful, the first to take her on a date, and the first man she’d loved. Her father wasalso the reason she was afraid to love again. But Alexis didn’t want to think about that now.
Thirty minutes later, a casually dressed Alexis walked into Taste of Soul. The sounds of Archie Bell & the Drells immediately welcomed her. This quartet thumped out a mean beat, using drums, bass, guitar, and organ, and encouraged everyone to “tighten up” and “make it mellow.” She reached for a takeout menu and began to scan her choices.
“You gotta do the ribs, pretty girl.” A skinny, plain-looking man wearing a stark white apron spoke to her from behind the counter. “I cooked them myself, just for you.”
“Then I guess I should try them,” Alexis politely countered.
“Yeah, and you should try going out on a date with me too!”
“Stop harassing our customers, Bobby!” Chardonnay said, playfully smacking him upside the head as she walked up to the register. “Don’t pay any attention to him, ma’am. He’s
special.”
Chardonnay and Alexis shared a laugh. “But
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