take a look at Church Street together ..." He at her through his long, dark lashes.
Kyara wasn't sure what to think, but was saved by the arrival of the others, their engines roaring as they pulled up. Ashley was first, a shivering Caitlin clinging to her back. She was glaring daggers at Jason, but stopped as she caught the hum in the air between them.
As the engines died away, Kyara took a deep breath and turned back to Jason.
"I ... can't" Kyara said regretfully, acutely aware of all the people around them pretending they weren't eavesdropping. "The cafe isn't doing so well, and if I give up on my Saturday patrons, it will just be worse."
Jason nodded.
"So, maybe a morning outing, then? Before you open? There's a nice little bakery over in Bradford. I was thinking maybe you'd want to carry some of their stuff at your place? We could go check them out."
Kyara felt her pulse quickening. I really don't have time, but when is the last time I was asked out on a date? And he had a back-up date planned. I can't remember any guy working this hard to spend time with me. Certainly not Devonte.... He mind shied away from that line of thought.
"I'd like that," she found herself saying. "As long as I could be back in time to get my kitchen ready." Kyara tried desperately not to think about all the eyes staring at her as she accepted.
He smiled. His smile lights up his entire face.
"I'm willing to get up early if you are," he said. "Maybe this Thursday?" Kyara did not point out that she was already up at 3:30 every morning. She just nodded, fighting to keep a silly grin off of her face.
Jason handed her a slip of paper, his phone number neatly printed across the top.
Well prepared, or cocky? mused Kyara. Before she could tease him about it, though, he had turned away, heading back to his vehicle.
Jason turned to face the obviously gawking spectators.
"Alright, guys, we've got work to do. Break into teams of three and I'll give you today's assignments," he projected.
Conversation resumed as people tried to find their partners for the day. This would easily supply the town with days of gossip to come. But for once Kyara didn't care. She did try not to look at Ashley, though. Whatever Ashley said, Kyara knew she'd see a loneliness on her friend’s face she knew all too well.
That night, the dream returned again.
Once again, she was braiding Keisha's hair, her fingers wound through with expert precision.
"I'll bring this to the police for you, Darrell. They can get you out. For now, we're just a young
man talking to his preacher. It'll be fine," said Kyara's father, equal parts kind and stern, just as she always remembered him.
Kyara tugged a little harder on Keisha's hair, trying to keep her attention and stop her from listening in on their father's conversation.
Why, Papa? Why do you need to help those gangbangers? Even the ones who are trying to get out are no good.
It made no difference, though. He'd been doing it, quietly and always carefully, since she was fourteen. Even though it had been over ten years, it still terrified her every time he did it. The less Keisha heard, the better.
"What do you want to do after this?" Kyara asked the child.
No, don't ask that. Don't ask. There is no after this.
Keisha tried to turn her head to look at the woman braiding her hair, but Kyara kept her facing firmly forward.
"I want to go buy a shirt like yours," said Keisha, her voice full of admiration.
Kyara glanced down. The shirt was nothing special – a simple, clinging purple cotton. Kyara did have to admit, though, the rich color set off the rich chocolate of her skin quite nicely. And Devante seemed to appreciate the way it clung to her curves.
No not him. Never him. I never want to think about him again.
"Do you like purple?" Kyara asked Keisha, glancing up at the street again.
Who cares about a stupid
Kyara wasn't sure what to think, but was saved by the arrival of the others, their engines roaring as they pulled up. Ashley was first, a shivering Caitlin clinging to her back. She was glaring daggers at Jason, but stopped as she caught the hum in the air between them.
As the engines died away, Kyara took a deep breath and turned back to Jason.
"I ... can't" Kyara said regretfully, acutely aware of all the people around them pretending they weren't eavesdropping. "The cafe isn't doing so well, and if I give up on my Saturday patrons, it will just be worse."
Jason nodded.
"So, maybe a morning outing, then? Before you open? There's a nice little bakery over in Bradford. I was thinking maybe you'd want to carry some of their stuff at your place? We could go check them out."
Kyara felt her pulse quickening. I really don't have time, but when is the last time I was asked out on a date? And he had a back-up date planned. I can't remember any guy working this hard to spend time with me. Certainly not Devonte.... He mind shied away from that line of thought.
"I'd like that," she found herself saying. "As long as I could be back in time to get my kitchen ready." Kyara tried desperately not to think about all the eyes staring at her as she accepted.
He smiled. His smile lights up his entire face.
"I'm willing to get up early if you are," he said. "Maybe this Thursday?" Kyara did not point out that she was already up at 3:30 every morning. She just nodded, fighting to keep a silly grin off of her face.
Jason handed her a slip of paper, his phone number neatly printed across the top.
Well prepared, or cocky? mused Kyara. Before she could tease him about it, though, he had turned away, heading back to his vehicle.
Jason turned to face the obviously gawking spectators.
"Alright, guys, we've got work to do. Break into teams of three and I'll give you today's assignments," he projected.
Conversation resumed as people tried to find their partners for the day. This would easily supply the town with days of gossip to come. But for once Kyara didn't care. She did try not to look at Ashley, though. Whatever Ashley said, Kyara knew she'd see a loneliness on her friend’s face she knew all too well.
That night, the dream returned again.
Once again, she was braiding Keisha's hair, her fingers wound through with expert precision.
"I'll bring this to the police for you, Darrell. They can get you out. For now, we're just a young
man talking to his preacher. It'll be fine," said Kyara's father, equal parts kind and stern, just as she always remembered him.
Kyara tugged a little harder on Keisha's hair, trying to keep her attention and stop her from listening in on their father's conversation.
Why, Papa? Why do you need to help those gangbangers? Even the ones who are trying to get out are no good.
It made no difference, though. He'd been doing it, quietly and always carefully, since she was fourteen. Even though it had been over ten years, it still terrified her every time he did it. The less Keisha heard, the better.
"What do you want to do after this?" Kyara asked the child.
No, don't ask that. Don't ask. There is no after this.
Keisha tried to turn her head to look at the woman braiding her hair, but Kyara kept her facing firmly forward.
"I want to go buy a shirt like yours," said Keisha, her voice full of admiration.
Kyara glanced down. The shirt was nothing special – a simple, clinging purple cotton. Kyara did have to admit, though, the rich color set off the rich chocolate of her skin quite nicely. And Devante seemed to appreciate the way it clung to her curves.
No not him. Never him. I never want to think about him again.
"Do you like purple?" Kyara asked Keisha, glancing up at the street again.
Who cares about a stupid
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