Chapter 2: CHAPTER TWO

I take a cab home from the coffee house, and I’m still thinking about Jarel’s text.

And as the cab driver expertly maneuvers through traffic, I remember our first date.

It was certainly one to remember.

***

The afternoon is cool and breezy, and I’m dressed in a black sleeveless turtleneck, translucent, orange shawl, jeans, and Converse low tops. When I step out of the cab, Jarel is already waiting in front of the record store.

He’s wearing khakis and a long-sleeved polo with the sleeves pushed up, and we eye each other without comment.

“I’m glad you could make it,” he greets in his baritone voice.

“Thanks for the invite.”

He opens the door for me and protectively places his hand behind my back, but he doesn’t actually touch me.

“Afternoon, Jarel,” says an old man behind a counter. “What’s happening?”

“Not much, Mr. Z,” Jarel replies. “This is Val. She’s never been here before?”

It’s a question–asking for clarification. “Nope,” I respond before looking at the shopkeeper. “First time.”

“Well, take a look around. There’s a listening station in the back, or I can play something over the speaker. Jarel’s been coming here for nearly a decade; he can show you around.”

I raise her eyebrows. “Nearly a decade?” I ask, turning my attention back to Jarel.

“Ever since I moved to the neighborhood,” he says.

“You must have quite a collection.”

“I do. A lot of jazz but plenty of soul, rhythm and blues, and hip hop too.” He gestures to the far right row. “Let’s start with new arrivals.”

I follow him and stand in front of the first stack, my fingers nimbly moving the records.

He stands next to me, and I can feel his body heat on my arm.

“How often do you come here?” I ask, keeping my voice steady.

“Most Sundays,” he replies. “Sometimes, I–”

“Oh my god,” I interrupt, then immediately feel bad. “Sorry, continue.”

“What is it?” he asks, turning his entire body toward me.

“It’s Ella Loves Cole,” I squeak, picking up the record from the collection.

When Jarel touches the album cover, he grazes my fingers, and I feel a bolt of electricity shoot through me. The chemistry is noticeable, and I wonder if he feels what I feel.

“A fan of Ella?” he asks.

“Not me as much as my mom,” I say. “She was obsessed with Ella, and when she and my dad were in an especially good mood, he’d put on Ella Loves Cole, and they’d dance and laugh.”

I rub my fingers against the cover. “The living room would transform into a ballroom, and they’d be transported to their younger selves in a simpler time.”

“That sounds nice,” Jarel says softly.

“It was.”

“Your folks still around?” he asks.

I continue to graze the cover. “No. Mom died when I was 17, and my father died last year.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Don’t be,” I say brusquely, coming back to the present. “We weren’t close.”

I start to return the record, but Jarel touches my hand. “How about I buy it for you?”

“The record?”

“Yeah.”

“We don’t have a record player.”

“We?” he asks with raised eyebrows.

“Bea and I. You met her Friday. She was the woman sitting next to me.”

“Ah. And you all are…”

“Roommates,” I clarify.

He exhales. “Got it. Well, what if I bought the record and–”

“Oh, what the shit?” I whisper.

Jarel follows my gaze to find a short, russet-skinned man entering the store. “You know him?”

I sigh loudly. “He’s my ex.” I return the record to the bin and touch Jarel’s muscular arm. “I’m sorry about this.”

“Why should you be sorry?” Jarel asks, looking down at me.

I haven’t moved my hand, and there’s part of me that wants to block out everything around us and only focus on his dark eyes, ochre face, and full lips.

“Can I help you?” I hear Mr. Z ask.

“What I’m looking for,” the man slurs, “you can’t help me find.”

I’m already exhausted by this situation.

I shake my head and walk to the front of the store. “Damon, what the hell? Why are you here?”

“I waited for you, but when you didn’t come out, I thought you must be in here with that piece of shit,” Damon says, pointing at Jarel.

Jarel stands next to me. “Do we know each other?”

“I don’t have to know you to know that you’re not good enough for my Valentina,” Damon says while shifting his weight. “She don’t need no new friends, understand?”

“Damon, we’ve talked about this,” I say. “You can’t follow me places. It’s stalking.”

“It ain’t stalking!” Damon yells. “You’re my girl! We’re in love.”

I take a step forward. “It’s over, Damon,” I say firmly, “and it’s been over for a long time. Now, you need to get a cab, call your sponsor, and go to a meeting.”

“The only way I’m gettin’ in a cab is if you c-come with me,” Damon slurs.

I roll my eyes. “Damon, c’mon! You don’t have to be like this. Stop making a scene in this nice man’s store.”

“I’m not leaving here without you!” Damon barks, staggering closer. “Now get over here!”

His demanding words pull me back to the memory of our last real fight.

Of the broken dishes.

Of the screams.

Of Bea calling the police.

Of the slow-healing bruises.

My confidence in neutralizing this situation wilts.

I step back. “No, leave me alone. I’m not going with you.”

“The hell you’re not!”

Jarel steps in front of me. “The lady made it very clear she’s not going with you. Either see yourself out, or you and I are going to have a problem.”

“I ain’t scared of you!” Damon spits. “Get the fuck outta my way!”

Jarel forcefully wraps his arm around Damon’s shoulders and grips his sleeves with both hands. “Time to go.”

Barely able to walk, inebriated Damon is powerless against Jarel’s strong grip, and I watch as Jarel leads my ex-fiance out of the store and hails him a cab. After Damon gets in, Jarel speaks briefly to the driver before reentering the store.

“Sorry about that, Mr. Z,” Jarel says as he walks by the counter.

“Hey, no one got hurt, and nothin’ got broken. It’s all good.”

Jarel stops two feet from me, places his hands in his pockets, and sighs. “How ya feeling?”

I shake my head. “I think I’m just going to go home.”

“I don’t know if it’s wise for you to be in a cab with a stranger right now,” he says, pointing at my hand. “If you’ll let me, I’ll drive you.”

I clench my hand into a fist, but it doesn’t help. Both hands noticeably shake.

I nod. “Yeah, thanks.”

“C’mon, lady,” Jarel says softly. He looks at Mr. Z. “I’ll be back Sunday.”

“You bet,” Mr. Z says.

Jarel opens the door and we step outside. “I’m parked on the next block.”

I follow him to a black Camry, step inside, and buckled my seatbelt. “I’m across town,” I finally say.

“No problem,” he says, starting the car.

“3691 Broadway.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He pulls into traffic, and checks his mirrors before turning onto Tucker Road.

I rub my eyes. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Everyone has a crazy ex,” Jarel says evenly.

“When he’s sober, everything’s fine,” I tell him. “He doesn’t call, text, or show up, and he certainly doesn’t stalk me. But if he’s been drinking… man, all bets are off.”

“How long you two been split?” Jarel asks, merging into the left lane.

“Almost two years.”

Jarel glances at me before looking back at the road. “Two years? Damn, lady. I thought this was recent. He’s still stalking you two years later? When was the last time you saw him?”

“A little over six months ago.” I lean back and sigh. “I really thought it was over this time.”

“Considered a restraining order?”

“Several times. But every time I get serious, he disappears, and I think he’s sober again. Maybe this time I should follow through.”

“Maybe,” Jarel says.

“I can’t believe… Busting up a date? That’s a first for him.”

“Is that what this was?” Jarel chuckles. “One of the shortest dates I’ve ever had, but definitely the most eventful.”

I almost smile. “Well, maybe it wasn’t a date, because this is the first time I’ve ever let a guy drive me home on the first date.”

Jarel glances at me and raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

I try to mimic Nelly Furtado. “What kind of girl do you take me for?”

He smiles. “They call me Thomas. Last name Crown.”

I chortle. “Very nice.”

“Thanks.”

“So… that experience…” I bite my lip, looking for a way to diffuse the embarrassment and awkwardness. “Am I throwin’ you off?”

“Nope.”

“Didn’t think so.”

Jarel laughs. “Seriously, it’s fine. Chalk it up to crazy first date drama.”

“You’re willing to try again?” I ask. “A second date?”

“I’ll be the first to admit it. I’m curious about you. You seem so innocent.”

“You wanna get in my world, get lost in it?”

Jarel glances at me. “You have no idea.”

My stomach flips, and my ears burn. “Okay then,” I say, hoping I’m not revealing my adrenaline rush.

“How about Saturday afternoon?” Jarel asks. “I have an idea, but it’ll take me a few days to set up. You cool with that?”

“Hundred percent.”

We ride for several minutes before I break the silence. “I’m glad you were there,” I say softly, looking out the window.

“At the record store?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too.”

“I think that situation could have gone much differently, much… worse.”

“I suspect you’re a strong, highly-capable woman,” he says. “You just got caught off guard. It happens.”

“I appreciate you saying that.”

He slows as he approaches Broadway. “Your neighborhood?”

“Yup.”

“I haven’t spent a lot of time down here. What’s good?”

“Farmer’s market,” I say offhandedly. “A couple of restaurants. A handful of other places.”

“I’d love a tour sometime.”

“Well, let’s see how the second date goes.”

“How are the hands?” he asks.

“Recovering.”

“Good,” he says as he pulls next to my townhome.

“I wasn’t planning on inviting you in,” I say, unbuckling my seatbelt. “You cool with that?”

“As long as you’re feeling okay by yourself,” he says.

“I’ll be fine,” I say, turning toward him. Our eyes meet, and I can’t help but smile. “I really do appreciate what you did for me today.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

I could get swept away in this. I could lean over right now and kiss him. I know it’d be incredible. I’d wrap my arms around his neck, his hands would be lost in the sea of my curls, and his lips…

I bite the inside of my lip and try to convince myself that it’s just the adrenaline.

“So, we’ll get together on Saturday,” I say.

“I’ll email you when I finish making the arrangements.”

I open the car door. “And if that goes well, I’ll give you my number.”

He winks. “Deal.”