Authors: Koko Brown
“
Who do you think he
is?” Trudy whispered as he sat in
the
pew across from them.
“
He’s definitely
not a neighbor.” Her father’s brownstone was located in
the heart of Fort Greene
’s
black community
.
“More likely a customer,”
Celeste
deduced.
Nestled
on the
southeast
corner of a three-way intersection, her father’s confectionary
store sat in a triangular building
,
which s
tr
addled
the border between Fort Greene’s Negro community and Prospect
Height’s predominately Italian
one
.
As if sensing
their
regard
, he
glanced over
at them
and smiled
.
Celeste
sucked in a breath. H
is
profile dimmed in comparison
to
the
full
on
picture
.
Although his nose appeared broken in a couple of places and should
have been distracting, it
accented
his other
attributes
—
the heavy slash of his eye
brows
,
his high cheek
bones, angular
jaw and
dimpled
chin.
Like the moment before she
went on stage, Celeste’s heart race
d
and a rush of adrenaline tore through her body.
Celeste
frowned.
She
was acting like a
naïve
kid. N
ot a
seasoned entertainer who ate men’s hearts for breakfast, lunch
and dinner. To say she wasn’t any good was an understatement.
“
Either say something
or shut your mouth cause you’re letting in flies,” Trudy
snickered.
Embarrassed, Celeste clamped
her mouth shut. For good measure, she swiveled around
completely
,
shunning
him,
yet
not forgetting him entirely. He was hard to ignore.
“
The cold shoulder’s
not working either.” Trudy whispered a little too loudly for
Celeste’s liking. “
Daddy-O’s
sweating you like
a
cop
on
Fifth
Avenue
.”
Her cousin leaned up and peered over Celeste’s shoulder. “I’m
not sure if he wants to kiss you or slap you silly.”
In all
honesty
, the
setting was inappropriate. Yet as a self-avowed glutton for male
attention, another sad effect of her father ignoring her for most of
her life, Celeste couldn’t help looking over her shoulder.
Sure enough, Trudy’s
observation was spot on. His gaze unwavering and devoid of emotion,
her egg and butter man’s expression was unreadable. Still, it
didn’t set off any of Celeste’s internal alarms.
As far as she knew, she
wasn’t wanted for anything in New York. She
’d
checked before she boarded the train in Cleveland. Curious as to
what made this man tick and in what capacity he knew her father,
Celeste turned around completely.
The moment their eyes met,
Celeste experienced a knee
-
jerk
reaction
like
a swift kick to the shin.
Pleasure,
not
p
a
in,
rush
ed
through her
veins and emptied out between her thighs.
The
sensation inc
reased
when he rewarded her with a slow smile. Celeste knew if she had a
tail, it would be wagging. And like a well-trained pup, she returned
his in kind.
Of course, for a hedonist a
simple exchange of smiles would never
be
enough.
Concocting her flirtation in her head, she ran her hand over her hips
and smoothed out a sudden spat of imaginary wrinkles in her burgundy
crepe dress.
Why hadn’t she worn
the blue number she’d purchased during the troupe’s
stopover in St. Louis? Plain with no embellishments, not even a
sprig of lace the dress she
’d
chose
n
for her father’s viewing aged her beyond her twenty-
six
years.
She’d
aimed for conservative and succeeded.
Now
it seemed like the worst idea she’d ever had in her life
.
Celeste slammed the brakes
on her wayward thoughts. Why was she
getting
so hot and bothered
over
this chum
?
Not exactly a
round
heel
, she was
far
from innocent
and hadn’t been since she lost her virginity at the age of
eighteen
.
Back on track
,
with her head on straight
,
Celeste
gathered
her things
.
As
she stood,
Trudy
slipped from the pew and crossed the aisle.
Hand
extended
,
she
waltzed right up to her egg and butter man.
Per protocol, he stood up
and shook Trudy’s hand. Celeste stifled the twinge of jealousy
souring her mood. She had no reason for such an emotion. For one,
she didn’t even know the man’s name. And two, her cousin
preferred her meat darker.
Celeste decided to test him.
Better to try the waters before she found herself over her head like
a preacher without a congregation. Grabbing the donation tray with
both hands, she slowly stood.
H
is
gaze lifted and tracked her every move
.
Celeste
repressed a knowing grin as she walked over
.
As a late arrival, she stood
to the side and listened.
Per
her usual habit
,
Trudy dominated the conversation, while her egg and butter man
peppered their
tête-à-tête
with one or two word answers.
Celeste didn’t mind.
As a casual observer,
she
drank
him in
from the high shine on his black wing tips,
to
the spot
–
on
creases in his slacks,
or
the hypnotic
spell of his spicy cologne,
and
the clarity of
his
jade
green
eyes
.
M
asculine
was the best word to describe him.
In her experience with the
opposite sex, Celeste rarely came across real man. Oh, she interacted
with a ton of boys play acting in suits, yet none of them possessed
the virile masculinity of the man standing mere inches from her.
“
Can you believe this,
c
ousin
?
This bruiser’s a fan of mine.”
“
Huge,” he
confirmed, locking gazes with her. Celeste’s face flushed with
heat. She’d never seen eyes as green as his before. And for the
first time in her life, the full impact of a man’s full
attention made her insides all tingly.
Wait
.
Did Trudy call him a bruiser? Celeste gave his mug another once over.
She noted the faint scar
on
his upper lip and the fatty width of his nose. Instead of being
turned off by a man who used his fists to make a living, Celeste
found herself drawn to him.
“
Small world, hungh?”
“
Small world,”
Celeste murmured. It was hard coming up with something witty
w
hen
she
was
choking
on
envy
. What she
wouldn’t give to have this man be her fan. Heck, she was
already his.
Effusive to a fault, Trudy
suddenly slapped her palms over her cheeks. “Where are my
manners? Let me introduce you two.”
While Trudy went through the
rigmarole of polite introductions, Celeste’s world became a
runway road with tunnel vision.
Of course
,
she caught his name
,
but when they shook hands
his
touch
made
her cousin,
the funeral home and even her father fade into the background.
So much so, her cousin Trudy
tapped her on her shoulder.
“
Shane was telling me
he held your father in high regard.”
“
Like a father
figure,” Shane added.
Trudy’s lips puckered
like she’d tasted the same sour lemons Celeste had been smacked
with.
Oblivious to their reaction,
Shane continued, “I could talk to him about anything.”
Had her father regaled him
with stories of the jezebel
who
moonlighted as
his
daughter? Celeste suddenly needed a drink.
“
Your father was a
great man.”
Celeste
groaned.
Better
make that a double.
“I
think I’ll accompany you after all, Tru,” Celeste
interjected before the boxer could launch into a full out memorial.
“It seems like I suddenly need a drink or t
hree
.”
Celeste ignored the way his
eyes narrowed.
She knew what society
thought of loose women and if Shane Brennan had been as close to her
Scripture-spouting father as he’d claimed, then her opinion of
him just plummeted faster than the futures on Black Friday. And she
was sure his feelings had to be reciprocal.
As she wrestled with a
sudden wave of remorse, Celeste pulled on her topcoat. For some
reason she wanted
out
of there and
as far away from Shane and his preconceived judgments as she possibly
could
get
.
“
I’ll meet you
outside.” Celeste turned on her heels, but quickly regretted
her lack of manners. With her hand extended and a pasted on smile
she didn’t quite feel, she turned back around. “It was a
pleasure meeting you Mr. Brennan.”
“
All mine,”
Shane said, taking her hand and squeezing it. Once again, his touch
set off another maelstrom. Her whole body tingled and her heartbeat
hammered inside her breastbone.
Before she ended up
contemplating the impossible, Celeste cut it out of there.
CHAPTER THREE
“
He
’
s
not coming with us
.
”
Cecil’s
daughter tried keeping her voice low and her emotions in check.
She was failing horribly.
Shane
smiled. He’d
expected
surprise or shock
when he’d invited himself along for a night on the town, not a
full out temper tantrum.
Her cousin Trudy paused in
the process of pulling on her gloves. “Why not?”
“
For one thing
he’s…he’s…he’s…”
Celeste
glanced over at him and seemed to lose her train of thought.
“
A
boxer
?”
Trudy stepped over to the curb and hailed a cab. “Not a
problem. Café Society is an integrated night club.
I don’t think they’ll mind us sitting with a
prizefighter.
”
Celeste
followed
her cousin, moving just out of ear shot. Just as well, Shane mused.
She
could cop
an attitude all she wanted, she wouldn’t deter him. The
Reverend had always looked out for him, so the least he could do was
keep an eye on his only child.
Who was
he kidding?
A
sudden case of altruism had nothing to do with his sudden decision to
linger in their company but more to do with sniffing around the
broad’s skirts.
Shane
scratched the back of his head. He was losing his goddam marbles.
T
he few he had
left
anyway
. A
veteran fighter
with
more than two hundred bouts under his belt
,
Shane’s short term memory was pretty much touch and go.