to dinner, but there were just too many books to sign. He could barely lift his head up to signal his driver in the background to ask one of them. Nor did he spot any of his Harlem homies who had promised to make it out to the bookstore that night. He didn’t count on that anyway. Book events were not their thing, so there were single women to talk to everywhere.
When it came time for the sister in the lavender suit to have her four books signed, she made sure she got his undivided attention. Not only did he smell her, remember her look, her question, and her poise, she managed to write her name and a question mark on a piece of paper for him.
“Hey, thanks for the tough question back there,” he commented as soon as he spotted her at the front of the line.
She only smiled at him with no words exchanged. Then she slid him the piece of paper on the table in front of her books.
Shareef looked down and read the name.
“Coffee? Your name is Coffee?”
She continued to smile at him. “That’s what they call me,” she responded.
He paused for a minute, imagination running wild.
“Why?” he asked her.
“I just have a lot of energy.”
Shareef was ready to signal his driver for her for sure.
Then he read the question mark below her name.
“What does that mean?” he asked her.
She looked him in the eyes and answered, “Whatever you want it to mean? It’s up to you.”
On cue, Shareef spotted Daryl toward the back of the room. Daryl caught the look and already knew. He had peeped her out as soon as he walked into the store. She was the one he would have went after himself, just like the camouflage-wearing brother beside him had tried and failed before she stepped up into the line.
Daryl grinned and nodded. Shareef nodded back and went back to work.
He signed her books with the normal messages of “Thanks for your support,” blah, blah, blah. Then he told her on the sly, “Stick around for a minute.”
The woman called Coffee heard him and nodded. Their understanding of each other was clear. She was reading his real-life book and he was reading hers. Nothing else needed to be said until later.
When she was close enough, Daryl pulled her aside and made sure that his words were perfect.
“Mr. Crawford would like to know if you would be available to join him for dinner this evening.”
Daryl wanted the invitation to sound as professional as possible to keep himself out of any trouble. A complimentary dinner seemed innocent enough, and that’s all it had to be. If the dinner led to more, then it was none of his business, nor was he responsible for their actions once they were outside of his vehicle.
Coffee looked pleased by the invite. She answered, “Yes, I would love to.”
The driver nodded to her and looked back toward Shareef. Shareef caught the nod from his table at the front and nodded back. It was all nonverbal language.
Coffee asked Daryl, “Does he want us to wait in the car for him?”
She was taking the proposition to the next level with confidence and speed. Daryl was stunned by it.
He said, “Well, okay, I guess we could wait out in the car.” She was the only woman Shareef had given him the signal to ask, and she had already agreed to dinner, so what was there left to wait for? He led her out of the bookstore and to the waiting limo.
The Spear jealously watched the whole scene, but was powerless to alter the script. Coffee had sent the alley cat scampering away so she could snag the prized lion.
Aw, that fake-ass, wannabe Diana Ross. They deserve each other, he told himself as the woman left with the limo driver.
Let me get the hell out of here. This was a big waste of my time.
And the rival author left empty handed and spiteful.
Another Novel
B Y 9:03 PM, Shareef had signed every book and said his final good-byes to the store owners, staff, and the rest of his dedicated fans before Daryl opened the limo door for him to climb back inside.
“Looks like you had quite a
When it came time for the sister in the lavender suit to have her four books signed, she made sure she got his undivided attention. Not only did he smell her, remember her look, her question, and her poise, she managed to write her name and a question mark on a piece of paper for him.
“Hey, thanks for the tough question back there,” he commented as soon as he spotted her at the front of the line.
She only smiled at him with no words exchanged. Then she slid him the piece of paper on the table in front of her books.
Shareef looked down and read the name.
“Coffee? Your name is Coffee?”
She continued to smile at him. “That’s what they call me,” she responded.
He paused for a minute, imagination running wild.
“Why?” he asked her.
“I just have a lot of energy.”
Shareef was ready to signal his driver for her for sure.
Then he read the question mark below her name.
“What does that mean?” he asked her.
She looked him in the eyes and answered, “Whatever you want it to mean? It’s up to you.”
On cue, Shareef spotted Daryl toward the back of the room. Daryl caught the look and already knew. He had peeped her out as soon as he walked into the store. She was the one he would have went after himself, just like the camouflage-wearing brother beside him had tried and failed before she stepped up into the line.
Daryl grinned and nodded. Shareef nodded back and went back to work.
He signed her books with the normal messages of “Thanks for your support,” blah, blah, blah. Then he told her on the sly, “Stick around for a minute.”
The woman called Coffee heard him and nodded. Their understanding of each other was clear. She was reading his real-life book and he was reading hers. Nothing else needed to be said until later.
When she was close enough, Daryl pulled her aside and made sure that his words were perfect.
“Mr. Crawford would like to know if you would be available to join him for dinner this evening.”
Daryl wanted the invitation to sound as professional as possible to keep himself out of any trouble. A complimentary dinner seemed innocent enough, and that’s all it had to be. If the dinner led to more, then it was none of his business, nor was he responsible for their actions once they were outside of his vehicle.
Coffee looked pleased by the invite. She answered, “Yes, I would love to.”
The driver nodded to her and looked back toward Shareef. Shareef caught the nod from his table at the front and nodded back. It was all nonverbal language.
Coffee asked Daryl, “Does he want us to wait in the car for him?”
She was taking the proposition to the next level with confidence and speed. Daryl was stunned by it.
He said, “Well, okay, I guess we could wait out in the car.” She was the only woman Shareef had given him the signal to ask, and she had already agreed to dinner, so what was there left to wait for? He led her out of the bookstore and to the waiting limo.
The Spear jealously watched the whole scene, but was powerless to alter the script. Coffee had sent the alley cat scampering away so she could snag the prized lion.
Aw, that fake-ass, wannabe Diana Ross. They deserve each other, he told himself as the woman left with the limo driver.
Let me get the hell out of here. This was a big waste of my time.
And the rival author left empty handed and spiteful.
Another Novel
B Y 9:03 PM, Shareef had signed every book and said his final good-byes to the store owners, staff, and the rest of his dedicated fans before Daryl opened the limo door for him to climb back inside.
“Looks like you had quite a
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