Playing the Hand You're Dealt by Trice Hickman

relationship to drag on, and that was something I couldn’t be a part of anymore. “The only kind of ride I’m up for tonight is the one that leads back to the house.”
    â€œCome on, baby, you know you want it.”
    â€œCarl, I’m not playing with you. Move out of my way so I can get these books for CJ and head back home.”
    â€œYou don’t mean that.”
    â€œYes, I do.”
    â€œI know what you want, and what you need.”
    I looked at him and shook my head. “What I used to want is no longer what I need. Give it a rest, Carl,” I said as I waved him off with my right hand.
    What happened next was completely crazy. All of a sudden, this fool decided to lose his damn mind. From out of nowhere, Carl got a weird look in his eyes that I’d never seen before. He reached up and knocked several books off the shelf next to where I stood.
    â€œYou gonna have enough of fuckin’ wit’ my feelins’,” he growled, standing so close I could smell the tart lemonade that lingered on his breath. “I’m steppin’ so I won’t have to hurt yo ass,” he said directly into my ear, through clenched teeth, so low that only I could hear him.Then he calmly walked away.
    I stood in the middle of the aisle with books lying at my feet and scared customers looking on, but trying not to really look too hard. I felt unnerved. This was the first time that Carl had ever threatened me in all the years I’d known him. I had yelled at him many times before, and one time I even shoved him in public. But not once had he ever been aggressive with me or uttered anything that remotely translated into a threat. Maybe he’s on something? I thought. I had never known him to use the drugs that I knew he sold, but just like his threat, there was a first time for everything.
    I was shaken, but I knew I didn’t have time to dwell on Carl. I had to ignore the people who were still staring, resist the urge to curse them out, and get my behind back home so I could comfort my best friend. I hoped Emily was still awake.

    Carl had ruined my mood, so I left the book section without making a purchase. I was headed out the door when I passed a group of brothers coming into the café.There were three of them, so I casually scanned each one from head to toe. When I came to the last guy I smiled, and he did, too. His friends slowed momentarily, but when they saw that we were making a connection, they nodded and kept walking.
    â€œI don’t mean to stare, but don’t I know you?” he asked.
    Although he was fine as hell, after further inspection I could see that he wasn’t my type. He was wearing a white T-shirt, faded jeans, and brown flip-flops. His thick dreadlocks framed his beautifully squared jawline, which looked almost Romanesque. He smiled at me through pearls of white teeth with a face so handsome he could easily be a male supermodel. I could tell by his tight diction that he was highly educated and probably from somewhere in the northeast, judging by his accent. And looking at his choice of clothing and hairstyle, I surmised that he was one of those granola-eating, earthy kind of guys, and I wasn’t into that. “I don’t think so,” I said, answering his question, ready to glide out the door.
    â€œYes, I think we’ve met,” he said, taking a moment to reappraise me. “Aren’t you Jeffery Baldwin’s sister?”
    His comment made me come to a complete stop. First of all, I knew for a fact that I’d never met this brother before tonight. How did I know? Because I always remembered fine, chocolate-dipped men draped in good-smelling cologne. But if he knew my brother, it brought a few other things into question—namely, his sexual orientation.
    My brother Jeffery was gay, even though my mother refused to openly acknowledge or address the truth. As a matter of fact, his partner was a tall, dark, and handsome