answer. “Thick and curvy with a booty out of this world.”
“Stan,” Derrick hissed, trying to shut him up.
“What, man?” His buddy laughed. “Everyone in here knows how you roll. You hook up with the finest women in the A-T-L. You’re the man.”
Bobby stopped sweeping to ask, “How do you do it? Do you have a line or something?”
Just like that Derrick was the center of attention. Bobby looked like he was ready to bust out a pen and paper to take notes.
“Nah. It’s nothing like that,” Derrick answered modestly.
Disappointment crept slowly across Bobby’s face and Derrick had the distinct impression the young man was suffering from a mild case of girl troubles. It wasn’t hard to guess why. Acne blanketed the boy’s face and his thick black-rimmed glasses looked as though they were a borrowed pair from his great grandfather.
“It’s not important the number of women you get,” Herman said. Undoubtedly, he’d noticed Bobby’s sullen expression, too. “It’s finding that one special woman. This knucklehead—” he thumbed Derrick on the back of his head with a plastic comb “—is gonna realize that one of these days.”
Derrick smiled and shook his head.
“Be still,” Herman instructed.
Herman’s declaration didn’t seem to cheer Bobby any—in fact, it only won a few chuckles around the shop.
“I’m serious,” Herman insisted gruffly. “You young folks.” He tsked under his breath. “You just don’t know what’s important anymore.”
“And what’s that, old man?” someone questioned near the front door.
“Family,” Herman said.
Derrick had mouthed the same answer and shook his head again. The guy by the door must have been new to the shop. The regulars knew Herman never missed an opportunity to climb on his soap box about how young men today where turning their backs on the traditional black family.
“It breaks my heart seeing all these beautiful sisters roaming around here raising these babies by themselves. It’s a damn shame,” Herman said.
“Hey, I don’t have any baby mommas,” Derrick said, feeling the need, once again, to defend himself. “And since I’m not ready to settle down, I make sure I practice safe sex.”
“Yeah. Me too,” Stanley added.
“Safe sex or no sex?” J.T. asked.
Another round of snickering ensued. Stanley’s normally pale face bloomed a bright red. Still, it was amazing no one called his Irish friend out or ragged him about trying to date across the color lines. Derrick suspected it was because Stanley was not only a friend of his but was also a member of the Kappa Psi Kappa fraternity. The only white boy to do so.
Being a Kappa man gave Stanley mad respect in the neighborhood since the fraternity did a lot for the community.
“Shoot,” J.T. chuckled. “It just don’t feel the same with a condom.”
“It’s gonna feel worse when you catch something you can’t get rid of,” Herman huffed, and then added under his breath, “Lawd. Lawd. Please help these knuckleheads running around here.” He clicked on his razor and started grooming Derrick’s edges.
Minutes later, Bobby finished sweeping, Stanley was rapt into the NASCAR race and everyone else returned to their little pockets of conversations. However, Herman’s thoughts were apparently still stuck on the previous discussion.
“Let me ask you something,” the barber asked suddenly. “Are you happy?”
“Pardon?” Derrick asked, not sure whether he understood.
Herman turned off his razor. “Are you happy?” he repeated.
Again, Derrick didn’t really know how to answer. “I, uh—”
“Uh-huh.” Herman clicked his razor back on and went back to edging up Derrick’s sides. “Let me tell you something while you’re ‘not ready to settle down.’ Men and women were put on this earth to procreate. Marry and multiply. It breaks my heart to remember all the things we as a race had to overcome just for the next generations to become more lost than they ever were.”
Derrick squirmed in his seat.
“All anyone talks about is money, fast cars and loose women.” Herman tsked again. “We used to come in here and talk about how to advance the race. Now everyone’s just hustlin’ and only thinking about themselves,” Herman said.
“I’m far from being a hustler,” Derrick laughed, trying to lighten the old man’s mood. “You know how long I’ve struggled to make a success as a political strategist, bouncing back and forth to Washington. It’s a lot of hard work, long hours.”
“Uh-huh,” Herman said, unimpressed. “Nice slogan to put on your gravestone. Much better than something like: Derrick Knight—a wonderful husband and father.”
Derrick swallowed.
“Let me tell you something, son.” Herman clicked off his razor and turned the chair so that their eyes would meet. “There’s nothing on earth better than the love of a good woman. You think you’re a success now? Man, that’s nothing compared to what you could do with a soul mate in your corner. Someone to hold you up when you don’t think you can stand any longer. It’s not about who has the deepest curves or the thickest backside, but someone who, when you look into her eyes, her soul speaks to you down in here.” He thumped Derrick’s chest, indicating his heart. “Love like that is better than some fancy job or fast car. Love like that is what it’s truly all about. I know it and your father knows it, too.”
Derrick’s parents, now retired and living it up in Florida, shared a love that inspired everyone who knew them. But none of this changed the fact that Derrick had never experienced this ground-shaking love his parents shared.
Never.
Chapter 3
“You didn’t tell him,” Keri accused, marching into Isabella’s apartment. “I should’ve known you would chicken out.”
Isabella cringed and shut the door behind her steaming best friend. “I was going to call him…I just couldn’t figure out what to say.”
“You say: ‘Sorry, Randall, but I can’t marry you.’ See? Simple,” Keri said.
“Simple for you maybe.” Isabella shuffled from the door and into the kitchen. She opened and slammed cabinets, while she prepared her morning coffee.
“I don’t know why I even bother. You’re never going to grow a backbone.” Keri slumped into a chair at the kitchen’s island. “From now on you’re on your own. I’m keeping my two cents to myself.”
“C’mon. Don’t be like that.” Isabella turned to her friend. “I need you in my corner more than ever.”
“Need me to do what? Watch you throw your life away and marry the wrong man simply because you’re too afraid to hurt anyone’s feelings?”
“That’s not what’s going on.”
Keri lifted a dubious brow and crossed her arms.
“Okay, it’s sort of like that.” Isabella turned toward the coffee maker and hit the brew button. In truth, up until now, she really hadn’t minded her parents making all the decisions for her. Mainly because at twenty-seven Isabella still didn’t know what she wanted to be when she grew up. How crazy was that?
In a sense, her parents gave her the much needed direction in life. As it turned out, Isabella was a damn good tax attorney. Maybe—just maybe, her parents really did know what was best for her—including who she should marry.
“I’m