Khalid Page 4

  “I promise you, there won’t be anything to see,” Racquel lamented.

  The crowd that surrounded Khalid and Tareef followed them into the banquet hall. The green and gold theme continued inside with balloon bouquets in the school’s colors, and table dressings reflecting the same. The DJ got the party started playing flashback songs that were popular when the guests were in school, and the dancefloor was instantly filled with couples getting their groove on.

  “We are not going to hold up this wall all night,” Naomi said, reaching over and taking the glass from Racquel’s hand. “Let’s go,” she insisted.

  “No, Naomi,” Racquel fussed, dragging her heels as Naomi gently moved her forward. “Don’t make me do this.”

  “Too late,” Naomi replied, offering a smile. “We’re dancing!”

  The music shifted, and the bass beat dropped, echoing through the party. The DJ played the electric slide, something that was sure to get the entire crowd moving. Naomi didn’t stop dragging Racquel until they were near the center of the dancefloor and in line, quickly falling into the familiar steps that got the group moving in unison. Racquel still resisted, even though her body moved to the beat. Naomi was relentless, though. She refused to allow Racquel to withdraw, which happened much more frequently since the passing of her father. Racquel and her dad were so close. Naomi was going to make Racquel have a good time even if Rocky hated every damn minute of it. Reaching forward, Naomi placed her hands on Rocky’s hips and guided her to the dance steps even though Rocky knew them.

  “Dip baby, come on, come on, dip baby,” Naomi sang.

  Rocky threw her head back, laughing at her best friend’s off-key melody.

  “Stop already,” Rocky playfully begged as her hips dipped lower guided by her bestie.

  Stop. It was a trigger, causing Racquel’s thoughts to spiral back to the dream, no nightmare she’d had the night before. And then, as though the universe was steadily working against her, she saw him, and all the air in her lungs seemed to dissipate. Racquel’s feet didn’t immediately move as Khalid turned in her direction seizing her eyes and holding them claimingly.

  “Dance or get run over,” Naomi said as the group continued to turn and pivot in sync.

  She tried, tried to get her body to respond to Naomi’s prodding. Eventually, Racquel’s feet started to move, but only after she reclaimed her gaze, tearing her eyes defiantly away from his. She was grateful when the slide required that she turn her back to him, keeping her from feeling obligated to look in his direction. She tried to smile when Naomi got her attention, encouraging her to make it saucy. Yet, Racquel felt eyes on her, watching her every move. They had to be his.

  When the DJ played the next song, he slowed the tempo and changed the mood, putting on a slow jam. Couples formed, and Naomi was immediately swept into the arms of a man. Racquel tried to get off the dance floor, preferring not to slow wind with anyone.

  “May I have this dance?”

  He asked and reached for her at the same time. Before Racquel could object, his arms were wrapped around her waist, and he was holding her closer than close. Not wanting to make a scene, Racquel draped her arm casually on the man’s shoulder and allowed him to lead her around the dance floor.

  “I haven’t seen you in years,” he crooned against her ear. Only then did Racquel pull back enough to see whose arms she was in.

  “Stephen?”

  “Yeah, it’s me, pretty lady,” he smiled, reeling her back in and securing his hold on her by locking his arms around her waist. She remembered Stephen. He was an okay guy back in the day, so Racquel continued to dance with him. He moved her rhythmically in a circle, leaning against her, eradicating any space that could exist between them. When another slow song started, Racquel tried to excuse herself.

  “Just one more,” Stephen whispered against her ear. He didn’t relinquish the hold he had on her. He had no intention of letting Racquel get away that easily. He liked her in school but wasn’t confident enough to approach her. She didn’t run with any particular crowd, choosing instead to have one friend instead of a bunch of people around her. In school, Racquel seemed unapproachable. She wasn’t a mean girl, but she wasn’t overtly nice either. She didn’t readily smile, and she didn’t seem to take shit off anyone. Stephen saw her when she stepped on the dance floor. He watched her as she moved sexily without even trying. But when she smiled and then laughed, Racquel seemed much more approachable. He was an adult and much more confident than he had been in his youth, so he was taking his shot. Better late than never.

  Stephen leaned in, even more, causing their bodies to move in a slow wind marking every beat of the bass that reverberated through the space. When he turned her again, she saw him. There were women standing all around him looking on wantingly, swooning every time Khalid looked their way and damned near wetting their panties when he flashed a brilliant smile.

  “Come on, Khalid, dance with me,” one woman asked persistently while another staked her claim on Tareef, leading him out onto the dance floor.

  “Don’t make me beg,” the woman flirted, reaching for Khalid’s hand that rested in the pocket of his tailor slacks.

  “You don’t have to,” he smoothly replied, allowing himself to be led to the middle of the floor. The woman’s smile was wide. She’d landed the prize, and she wanted everyone around her to know.

  “My name’s Kelly, just in case you forget,” she signaled, lifting her name badge high enough to expose her cleavage that spilled from the front of her dress. Dropping her badge and letting it fall haphazardly against her chest, Kelly stepped close to Khalid and wrapped her arms tightly around his taut waist. Immediately, her head fell to the center of his chest, and she rested it there as the two swayed to the beat. Kelly was enraptured, and Khalid was polite, wrapping his arms softly around her waist and going along with the dance she insisted upon.

  Racquel tried not to pay Khalid any attention. She tried not to let her eyes follow him on the dance floor. She tried to focus on the man that was in her arms, who was interested in her. Yet, she couldn’t unsee him. He was there, and she knew it. She felt his presence even across the expanse of the space that separated them, and that bothered Rocky. Why was Khalid even a thing?

  He saw her before, and he saw her again. Even in a crowd, Khalid saw Racquel and the memory of the dream he had a few nights before resurfaced in his thoughts. Khalid was perplexed by the fact that he even dreamed about her and even more miffed by the fact that he remembered the dream vividly. Despite his best efforts to dismiss it and the bodily reaction it caused, seeing Racquel again awakened that moment, reviving it. There were any number of beautiful women in the room. And just like in high school, he could have any one of them he wanted, even the one who was slow grinding on him now. Khalid tried to shift his focus. He and Racquel were polar opposites and not the least bit simpatico.

  When the lights lifted, Khalid politely thanked Kelly for the dance.

  “It was my pleasure,” she purred, with a wink and a smile. Khalid smiled in return, retreating from her clutches.

  Across the dance floor, Racquel was doing much the same, thanking Stephen for the dance. He didn’t want their time together to end and suggested he’d like to get her a drink.

  “Maybe later,” Racquel smiled.

  He had to accept that as Racquel gave Stephen very little choice, quickly moving to grab Naomi and march her back to the bar. They found a table that was close and decided to sit there instead.

  “I’m ready to go,” Racquel groaned as the two walked across the room.

  “Not before I get to Tareef, we’re not,” Naomi countered.

  “You’re serious, aren't’ you?” Racquel challenged.

  “Rocky, did you see him? I mean, look at him,” Naomi swooned.

  Racquel refused, fearing that a look in that direction would bring her back in contact with her nemesis.

  “I still don’t understand what was up with you and Khalid,” Naomi sighed. “Li
ke, you’ve explained it to me before, but that wasn’t about nothing girl. Besides, not liking him doesn’t mean you have to throw the whole family away.”

  “So, you’re going after his brother even though you know how I feel about Khalid?”

  “Umm, let me think,” Naomi replied, placing a polished finger to her chin. “That would be a yes,” she smiled. “It’s ex-boyfriend’s that are off limits between friends, not the brother of someone you claim to hate.”

  “I don’t hate him,” Rocky clarified. “I just don’t have any use for him.”

  Chapter Six

  “Well, baby girl, I’ve got plenty of use for that fine specimen of a man standing next to him,” Naomi hummed, eyeing Tareef from across the room. She wouldn’t stop looking in his direction until he felt her eyes rakingly appraising him. When Tareef did look around the room, either feeling or seeing Naomi staring, a slight smile parted his full lips. That was all Naomi needed. Her smile widened as her eyes narrowed, and she focused her gaze intently.

  “Damn,” Naomi uttered as Tareef took his eyes back from her. She wouldn’t allow that to be their last encounter. She wanted to see him up close and personally to let him know she was more than interested. Naomi had no intention of waiting for Tareef to make the first move. She’d gotten his attention, and Naomi intended to capitalize on that.

  “I’ll be back,” Naomi said, smoothing down her dress, flipping her shoulder-length hair back behind her ear, and adjusting her posture, dropping her shoulders and enunciating her bustline. She kept her eyes focused on him as she strutted across the room, the sway in her hips practically defying gravity and drawing the attention of many men in the room. Naomi didn’t care what kind of song was playing, whether it was fast or slow. She intended to dance with Tareef and never let him go.

  Racquel was not surprised when Naomi abandoned her. When Na had her sights set on something, she didn’t stop until that something was accomplished or conquered. A man was no different. Racquel really was ready to go, but they had a pact. They would never leave the other when they went somewhere together. They had to have each other’s back no matter what, and Naomi had Racquel’s back. She’d held her down for a long time, especially after Racquel’s father passed away so unexpectedly. Just the thought of her dad made Rocky melancholy. She loved him more than she loved her own life, and her father was her rock. He was her everything. And colon cancer took him away from her. From diagnosis to death was less than six months. Her father was alive and living one minute, and after diagnosis, he was waiting to die. Cancer took everything from him, his joy, his laughter, his smile, and, eventually, his life. Six months wasn’t enough time for his only child. Racquel had so many questions that would remain unanswered. She spent every minute she could with her dad up until the last. And even as they lowered his body into the ground, it took all the strength Racquel had to not go with him.

  A big part of her died that day, a part of her soul she would never get back. Racquel was hurt and sad and angry. But she had a promise to keep. Her father had been a barber all of Racquel’s life. He was that neighborhood barber that gave out free haircuts to the homeless who couldn’t afford it. He was that neighborhood barber that all the kids flocked to when they got their report cards because they knew Mr. Alexander was going to applaud their efforts, and slide a little something, something they could put in their pocket and spend at the candy store even though he told them that candy would rot their teeth. He was also the barber who gave free haircuts to the kids who would read a book to him in exchange for a fresh cut.

  Mr. Charles Alexander was Racquel’s world, and the world became a dark and lonely place without him. She was his legacy, and every day, she strived to live up to all that her father knew she could be. Racquel’s glass was empty, and her heart was sad. She blew out slowly between her glossed lips, dreading every moment of being at the reunion. She’d much rather be at home because thinking about her dad made Racquel want to cry no matter where she was. Longing to see him again, missing him terribly was a feeling she couldn’t shake, and that feeling seemed to overpower her even in a room full of happy people.

  “Let me refill your drink for you,” Stephen suggested.

  Racquel didn’t have it in her to dismiss him.

  “Sure,” she replied, offering a stiff toothless smile as he picked up her glass and strolled over to the bar. Racquel tried hard to change her line of thought. She was in the middle of a party damn near about to cry. The ache in her heart for her father was real, and it hurt. Hiding her feelings, masking them was something Racquel had never been good at.

  “What’s the matter, pretty lady,” Stephen asked as he slid into the seat next to her, sitting her glass on the table. Rather than replying, Racquel picked up the glass and put it to her lips, turning up the contents until the glass was empty. She’d never been a big drinker, but maybe enough alcohol would dull her senses, thereby dulling her pain. But the apple martinis were doing nothing for her. Maybe they were too watered down or didn’t have enough liquor in them to start with—another something to frustrate Racquel during this already frustrating night.

  “I’m okay,” Racquel sighed, but her words and the look on her face were not convincing.

  “I wish I could make you smile,” Stephen offered, smiling in her direction in hopes that his would be infectious. Racquel appreciated the effort and shrugged and smiled in return. It didn’t reach her eyes, though, and Stephen noticed.

  “You want to talk about it,” he inquired.

  “Not particularly,” Racquel replied. “Thanks for asking, though. I’m just not up to it this evening.”

  “I understand,” Stephen answered. Reaching in his jacket pocket, he pulled out a business card and slid it across the table in Racquel’s direction.

  “I would love to take you to dinner some time,” he suggested as he reluctantly stood to his feet, his eyes still trained on Racquel.

  “Thanks,” was all she had left.

  Stephen walked away, and Racquel looked around the room to see if she could see Naomi.

  Rocky smiled. Naomi accomplished what she set out to do. She had Tareef in a deathlock on the dance floor, and even from where Racquel sat, she could see that Naomi had no intention of letting him go. Rocky watched a bit longer. Tareef didn’t look trapped. He didn’t look like he was fighting to get away. Rather, he looked to be enjoying himself and enjoying Naomi. His posture was confident, and his eyes were fixed on her. When Naomi smiled, Tareef seemed to genuinely smile, too.

  “Good for you, Na,” Rocky giggled. “Good for you.”

  She felt his eyes on her again. It was a distinct feeling. Racquel knew precisely who was looking at her. She didn’t dare return his gaze.

  He tried to let go of the vision he had of her, the dream that continued to resurface no matter how far he tried to push it away. Was he missing something? Was there something there that their history wouldn’t allow him to see? Her friend, Naomi practically said as much. Although her sights were set firmly on Tareef, she casually mentioned that Racquel was sitting alone and that she’d asked about him. Khalid didn’t know the last part to be a lie, but Racquel’s supposed inquiry did make him curious. He never disliked Racquel just distanced himself when he learned of her disdain for him. Maybe it was time to show her that he was bigger than their collective pasts and let bygones be bygones. Maybe there was more to the dream than Khalid realized.

  He strolled across the room. Initially, Racquel didn’t see him coming until she felt the fine hairs on her arm stand on edge. There was a shift in the atmosphere. He was looking at her again, and his gaze cut through all the noise, all the people and pricked her sensibilities. Her hooded eyes found him moving steadily in her direction. Racquel’s first impulse was to turn away, to possibly move away to avoid the contact that seemed so inevitable. Racquel’s eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape, yet her body didn’t move. She felt the beat of her heart accelerate, but it didn’t seem to come from the though
t of flight. Before Racquel even turned around, she knew he was there.

  “Dance with me,” Khalid crooned, extending an upturned hand in her direction. She heard the sultry of his voice before inclining herself to his presence. Racquel’s eyes landed on Khalid’s hand before methodically trailing up the length of his arm, skirting across his broad chest and then to his face. She made a quick involuntary appraisal of his features, finding him even more handsome, more enticing than she cared to admit. Khalid’s eyes were softer than she’d ever known them to be. She wrenched herself from her ridiculous fixation with his arresting face, robust masculine features, exacting profile. Again, there was a part of Racquel that wanted to recoil, that wanted to hold on to the past even though the significance of the old events seemed to fade, losing their significance. Articulating why she despised Khalid so much became distinctively more difficult as she lifted her hand to meet his. When Khalid’s fingers touched hers, Racquel had the strongest urge to jump back. She didn’t. She refused to allow this man to think he had any kind of effect on her other than repulsion.

  As Khalid lifted with Racquel to standing, she found his touch to be oddly soft and caressing. She fully expected his hands to be callous and rough as she imagined his interior to be underneath the nice guy, good guy image he fooled so many others with. But no one was that damn good. They couldn’t be. It was impossible. As Khalid stepped slightly back so she could walk in front of him, Racquel became very conscious of her movement, of the soft curve of her shoulder, the sway of her hips. She felt a firm hand to the center of her back, his tough sending a flutter of pulsations to her core. The desire to distance herself from his magnetism was powerful. She refused to flinch, though, denying that his touch meant anything or felt like anything.

  As they stepped onto the dance floor, they were both grateful for the up-tempo song that played loud enough that making conversation was impossible and physical contact wasn’t required. Khalid was smooth as he moved, and Racquel struggled not to appreciate it. Spinning on her heels, it was easier to have her back to him. That way, she didn’t have to look at him; she could distance herself from the intoxicating lure of his scent and avoid making contact with his eyes. Khalid recognized the tension between them. It was heightened in a way that he hadn’t expected, though. He found himself looking at her through a different lens, attempting to discard the tunnel vision he had with her, yet he still didn’t know why. When she turned away from him, Khalid wasn’t offended; instead, appreciating her form, the curve of her hips, how the dress she wore accentuated all the positives and cloaked any negatives, if there were any. The plump of her ass accidentally brushed against him, and Khalid felt a thump in his core he couldn’t dismiss.