Love Across Colors (Urban BWWM Interracial Romance) (3 page)

              Melinda’s heart fluttered
,
and she placed her hand over the spot to quiet
en
it. “I can’t believe it,” she beamed.

              “Believe it, and call the man,” Helen said as she walked off before they
would
should
attract the attention of more than just the office snitch.

             
The rest of the day was a blur for Melinda as her only thought was on this man and what this would mean if she did get together with him. Several times throughout the day Helen would pass by and mouth the words ‘call him’ to her, but she would wave her off each time. By the time Melinda was ready to go home, her nerves were jelly and she could not bring herself to call the man at all. She slipped out of the office before Helen
could
should
railroad her into calling and hurried down the street and to the bus station.

             
On the way home, Marcus rushed to meet her as always, but today, she didn’t have the nerve to chase him away. “Hi
,
Marcus,” she said even though she kept walking.

              The young man almost fainted that she was actually being civil for a change. “What has gotten into you today?” he asked.

             
“What? You always talk
,
and now that I answer you are surprised? If you never expected me to be nice, why did you keep talking?”

              “I didn’t say I didn’t want you to answer; I was just thrown for a second. So how was your day?” he asked her.

             
“I had a wonderful day, thank you,” she smiled. Some of his friends called to him now
,
and she could see the regret on his face.

              “I have to go and deal with something, but I still want to have this conversation with you. Can I come to your place later?” he persisted.

             
Melinda patted him on the cheek and smiled. “Not today
,
Marcus. Won’t happen,” and she walked off before he could find any other words to say. Melinda was walking with a spring in her step now
,
and only for an idea; after all, she had said nothing to Mr. Rutherford, but just the idea that he had shown interest was enough to make her swoon. By the time she walked through the door, she was beaming like a beacon on a hill
,
and her illuminating presence could not escape her father.

              “Must have been a great day,” he said as he walked toward
s
her.

              She grinned. “What makes you say that? This day was like any other,” she teased.

             
“Oh no. Every other day you drag yourself here like the world is on your shoulder
s
and you are charged with balancing it like the God Atlas. No, something different happened today.”

              Melinda only smiled, and that only kept Melvin pressing even more. “Aah, you met a man,” he said to her.

             
Melinda opened wide eyes at him. “How did you come to that conclusion?” she asked.

             
“I was born a long time ago
,
and I can recognize when a woman is whipped, even if she is my daughter,” he grinned.

              Melinda had never been able to fool her father
,
and she now admitted why she was feeling this happy. “Okay. This gentleman came to the office today to work on an application. We had invited him there
,
but I had no idea what he looked like, until today. Dad, when he came in I was awe struck and could barely find words. I was a basket case,” she admitted.

              Melvin laughed. “That happens sometimes. So, what happened after?” he relaxed into the sofa and gave her his undivided attention.

             
“Well, he went in with Mr. Walker
,
and when he came out and was about to leave, he slipped me his business card. I am not sure how to interpret that. Does he want me to call him? Was it for the sake of the business that he did that?”

              “I don’t think so,” her father said. “How exactly did he give it to you?”

             
“He told me that he will be back in a few days for a follow-up
,
and then he walked off. When he got to the door, he walked back and told me that he had forgotten something. When I asked what, he gave me his card and said ‘that’ and then walked away.”

              “I think that number was meant for you,” Melvin told her.

             
“What makes you think that?” Melinda asked, confusion marring her features.

             
“You said you had called him a few days ago to invite him in to talk about the application right?” he continued when she nodded in the affirmative. “That would mean that the business already has his number. The one he gave you was for you.”

             
Melinda sat there looking at her father as if he w
ere
as
a genius. “Why didn’t I think of that?” she asked. “Helen kept telling me to call him, but I wasn’t sure of that. Is it appropriate for the woman to be the first to call?”

             
“Back in the day perhaps not. Nowadays I see women doing all sorts of things they wouldn’t normally do, including calling the man first. Since he did give you his number I don’t believe it would appear too forward.”

             
“Why didn’t he just ask me for mine?” she pouted. “I can’t stand the pressure. I’m not used to this.”

             
Melvin laughed once more. “Well, you can either call him and see how much he is interested
,
;
or you can sit here and torture yourself about whether or not he really likes you rather than just asking him directly
,
;
or you can do nothing and hope that eventually he will get your number and call you
,
;
or you can sit back and let him get away, but by the looks of things I can see how easily and deeply he has already affected you.”

             
Melinda could not help but admit her father was right. If she did nothing, there was the possibility that he would slip through her fingers and walk right out of her life. That was not something she was willing to let happen, especially since he had given her his number. It meant he was expecting her to call him. “Okay
,
Dad, I get the picture. Thanks for the chat,” she said as she moved away from the old man after placing a kiss upon his forehead.

              “Anytime
,
kiddo. Now hurry up and make me some grand
children,” he threw at her, but she side
stepped the comments for the moment. She went to her room and took the card from her pocket and stood there staring at it. Then she reached for her cellular phone and punched in the numbers. She placed the device at her ear and listened to it while it rang. As soon as she heard his smooth baritone on the other end, she panicked and hung up.

              She threw herself on the bed face
-
first and pummeled the sheets with her little fists. “Why is this so hard?” she asked herself, but no response came. She rolled over onto her back and stared at the ceiling, and even when the phone started vibrating in her hands, she could not build up the nerve to talk to him. What would she do when she saw him next? Melinda groaned and buried her face in her pillow, anxious to talk to the man who had affected her this much this soon
,
but lacking the will to.

             
The following days did not bring Melinda more luck or strength of wit. On several occasions she took out her phone to dial his number, but she was always unsure of what to say.

             
"Have you called him as
of
yet?"
asked Helen as she got into the office, two days later.

              "No
,
Helen. I can't seem to. Last night I tried again
,
and I clammed up."

              "You must be joking. A man like that passes you his number
,
and you actually hesitate to call? You know what, give me his number. Let me call him since you have no use for him."

              Melinda laughed. "It's not that. It's just that it has been so long since I've dated anyone. I'm a little shy you know," she admitted.

             
"And it is that same attitude that will keep you alone for the rest of your life."

             
Melinda held her head down, absorbing the truth as it left Helen's mouth and into her consciousness like a wet sponge. "I know, but I can't be something I'm not, and I'm not used to being with a man like him
,
or having to make the first move technically. Now I wish I had been the one to give him my number first."

              There was a thud in the direction of the main entrance
,
and when the women paused and directed their attention there, they saw Wayne stumbling through the door, having struck his foot against the object as it was being closed.

              "Why don't we find out then?" Helen asked her, although she was not sure Melinda had heard as she sat there dumbfounded.

             
"Good
m
M
orning," he said to her as he walked up, staring her directly in her eyes.

             
Melinda's hands trembled
,
and her knuckles grew white as she gripped the edge of the desk. "Good
m
M
orning," she however managed to say. "Mr. Walker has been expecting you."

             
She got up then to direct him to the office, but this time she let him pass her for fear he would see what a nervous wreck she was slowly becoming. He turned and smiled at her
,
and it took all her mental faculties to not melt onto the floor like
a
Popsicle on a hot day
,
and return his smile. Once he disappeared behind the door she gripped her chest, right where her heart was pounding like a hammer
,
and hastened back to her post. She sipped some of the water from the glass at her desk and fanned her face with the other hand to rapidly calm her nerves.

              "Get a
hold of yourself," Helen whispered as she passed. "He will be coming back."

              Melinda wanted to visit the ladies' room but didn't for fear she would miss him when he returned. The task of concentrating became rather difficult for her, and she transferred several calls to incorrect extensions. She received a few curious looks from the members of staff, what few there were that she interacted with, and had to make several apologies as the calls were returned to her.

             
By the time Wayne came back from Mr. Walker's office, Melinda was ready to be diagnosed with a mental disorder. Wayne stopped by her desk
,
and she sat there looking at him with wild eyes. He made a slight chuckle.

              "How about you give me your number," he said and then peered over her desk so that he could see the name written on her monitor. "Melinda. That's a beautiful name befitting of a beautiful lady," he continued
,
and Melinda just sat there.

              Wayne kept looking until he cleared his throat. "The number?" he asked.

             
"Oh, sure," she said as she stumbled and tripped over the words. She reached forward and took up a business card from among a pile of others and handed it to him.

             
"Is there any particular time that you can't take a call?" he asked.

             
"Not necessarily; more than likely when I'm here since I operate the switchboard
,
and I am likely to be in and out of here to attend meetings with Mr. Walker."

              "Okay," he said
,
and then tapped the desk with his knuckles before walking off.
"

             
He was a beauty in front as he was from the rear, and Melinda couldn't help staring at the motion of his ass as he walked away. She didn't breathe until he disappeared outside.

             
The phone rang then, and for the first time in half an hour, she could compose herself long enough to answer.

             
"Why didn't you call me?" The voice on the other end asked her, and instantly the fluttering of her heart was resumed.

             
"I, um, I tried several times," she admitted.

             
"So I see. I thought this number looked familiar," he said.

             
"I didn't know what to say," she said. "The words just could not come out."

             
"Well maybe I was wrong to give you that responsibility when it should have been mine, but I have corrected it somewhat now that I've called you first."

             
Melinda smiled. "I believe you have Mr. Rutherford."

             
"Call me Wayne. I can't stand that 'Mr. Rutherford' rubbish."

             
"Okay, Wayne," Melinda replied with a slight chuckle.

             
"What are you doing tonight?"
h
H
e now asked.

             
"Nothing," she said almost too quickly. "I'm doing nothing."

             
"Well
,
how would you like to go to dinner with me?" He asked.

              "I would like that very much," she answered.

             
"Great. I'll pick you up at seven. By the way, where do you live?"

             
Melinda froze again. She did not live in the best part of town and telling him this now would prove difficult. What if he didn't want to go out with her again when he learned she lived in the projects? She opened her mouth to tell him that she would meet him instead, but the words of her father rang instantly in her head when he told her on several occasions to be proud of whom she is; where she live
d
is no reflection of the person she is or will be.

              "I live on west 99th," she finally said.

             
"The projects?" he asked with surprise. "Now that's a shocker. You must be like a rose in that desert," he added.

             
"It isn't so bad living there; the reputation of the place is only a perception granted by its location and suffered by those who only look on. Those who live there often have a different view," she said, defending her home
town.

              She grew up there, and aside from the occasional shootings
—
-
which as far as she was concerned w
ere
as
a normal occurrence in most parts of the country
—
-
she had never experienced any negativity there.

             
"So I see. Will I be free to move around there? I have to tell you I am a little intrigued as I have always wondered what life is like in communities such as those. The likenesses portrayed by the media and Hollywood seemed too fantastical at times; they give the impression that there are gun
-
slingers walking around displaying their instruments as if legal."

             
"And that's what I mean; it is no more dangerous than walking down Fifth Avenue," she said. "So yes, you can drive freely there without interruption."

             
"I am glad to hear that society has been wrong all along. I will give you a call when I'm heading over," he told her.

             
"Okay," she smiled
,
and was glad she had gone with her second instincts about telling him where she lived.

              "Later then," he said and hung up.

             
Melinda placed the receiver into the cradle as if it were glass and fell back against the chair, eyes closed and a big sigh escaping her lips. She jumped up then, anxious to see if anyone had heard her, but she realized no one had. Not even Helen. Especially not Helen.

             
She could barely contain her excitement as she hurried through the day, constantly glancing at the desk clock to see how much time remained, but it seemed to only take longer for every time she looked it was only ten minutes later. She barely made it through lunch, and by the time the clock showed five, she was half
way through the door.

              He was coming at seven, so for her to get home and be ready, she could not take the regular bus that would take her home close to six thirty. She decided instead to hail a taxi that would get there much sooner even though it would cost her significantly more. When she weighed the cost, the benefit was far greater. It didn't take her long to find a taxi at this hour
,
and within minutes she was breezing through traffic. She bounded from the taxi, barely letting the fare land in the driver’s hand before doing so. She almost crashed into her father on the way in.

              "Whoa, where are you going in such a hurry? And how is it you are home this early?" he queried.

             
"I have a date with Wayne," she beamed.

             
"Wayne?" he asked, looking puzzled. "Oh, you mean the man from work."

             
"Yes, the very same. He is to come and get me tonight
,
and I don't want any lip from you. Furthermore I'd like for you not to meet him just yet; not until I'm sure if there is something between us."

              Melvin pondered that for a moment and then shook his head. "Okay, that's understandable. I guess I will meet him in due time, but he should know I will be watching from a distance. And that's a threat," he smiled.

             
Melinda returned his good humor and kissed him on the cheek before dashing off. At fifteen minutes to seven she emerged from her room looking radiant in a high
-
top skirt, satin blouse and matching stilettos. She did not reveal too much skin, being a conservative woman, but showed enough to spark interest. The outfit displayed her feminine curves with surgical precision, and her black puffy hair, now pinned up at the top of her head
,
only made her neck seem even more graceful. Tear drop earrings and red lipstick were the finishing touches over light makeup, and when Melvin saw her, he had to remove his glasses and whistle.

              "How do I look?" she asked nervously. "I wasn't sure what to wear," she said, still surveying herself.

             
"You chose right; you look amazing
,
sweetheart. That man would be a fool not to propose to you tonight."

              "Oh
,
Dad, you always were so dramatic," she laughed, but she gained greater confidence in her attire after that.

              Just then Melinda's phone rang
,
and when she answered, Wayne was just moments away from her. She directed him to her home and descended the three flights of steps when she saw the silver Volvo stop outside. The windows were heavily tinted, and Melvin stood by the door and watched her as she left.

              Wayne took her to a cosy little restaurant across town, hidden away from the public eye, and when Melinda alighted from the vehicle she felt as if she was in another world. Jazz music streamed from hidden speakers all over the property, and as she made her way up the stoned walkway, the caressing sound of water babbling over a little fountain to her right drew Melinda's attention
,
;
though
or
perhaps it was the hypnotic lighting surrounding it.