Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
The aroma of kismet filled the room as ‘One Night Only,’ by Sonder, played on low volume.
“Where did you get a love for R&B? I mean no disrespect, but it doesn’t… it doesn’t match what I know about you. What I see.”
“You know little about me, and whatever you think you know is either overstated or completely false. What you think you see is based on typecasts and labels. To answer your question, my father was in a band. ‘The Code.’”
He sat across from her on the huge velvet sleigh black couch, his legs sprawled. He wore a white button-down shirt, but he left it unbuttoned, his chest exposed. A smattering of fine black hair peeked through, a thin line making up his happy trail. Taut abs. A look of nonchalance on his face. “He was a musician, and almost everyone in his group, except him and an Asian guy—Joon, who was Korean to be exact—was Black. I grew up hearing this music. I liked it. I held on to it.”
“That’s really neat. So, what instrument did he play?”
“He knew how to play the keyboard and piano, but he was one of the lead singers, actually.”
She was surprised he was speaking to her about issues and topics unrelated to her time there. Actually answering her questions. Just hours prior, he’d allowed her to watch a movie in a small theater in his home, which shocked her, too. The room smelled of popcorn and Coca Cola, and had real theater seating.
In some ways, it was as if Archer was trying to gain something he’d lost through his current trappings… Maybe he’d had nothing as a child, and now he wanted everything. She found it a bit strange how no one else lived in the large house, though. It was a real showstopper. At least five bedrooms she was certain, and the rooms were ginormous. Why would one man want to live here alone? Where was his family? Girlfriend or wife? Children? He should have been married, or at least had a child or two. If he had a girlfriend, he kept her at bay for sure. How strange it all was. But of course nothing made sense about Archer at all.
“Do you want me to call you Archer or James? I’ve been calling you both, and I’m not certain which you prefer.”
“I don’t care.” He shrugged, then took another drag of his cigar. “It’s whatever. Are you ready?”
He doesn’t want me to choose or care because a name creates a relationship. It establishes a baseline of familiarity. I’m going to call him Archer from here on out. It’ll make him more comfortable. Relaxed. James may trigger ties to his family life or something traumatic, and make him clam up. Yeah, I got it…
She nodded, an affirmative to his question. He got up, slipped off his shirt, walked to her then handed her her phone. He stood over her, like a shadow of death. The reaper with a bow and arrow tattoo on his arm, his fingers caressing his gun in the holster. She took a deep breath and dialed her mother.
“Hi, Mom.” She glanced up at him nervously, then quickly lowered her gaze to the floor.
“Hi, Honey,” Mom said around a yawn. “You okay?”
She was shocked Mom would ask that. She rarely did. Mom didn’t give a shit where she was or what she was doing more times than not, as their last falling out proved that hurtful words had consequences. Their personalities were like water and oil, but regardless, she loved her mother very much, and she was certain that deep down her mother loved her, too.
She glanced up at James to see his brows had knitted. The creases in his forehead increased and his lips thinned. The way he kept caressing the handle of that gun was all the convincing she needed to keep up this charade.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Still in Denver. On assignment.”
“Okay. You be careful. I hope you’re doin’ the right thing, Honey. Your sister told me they want to fire you.”
“Huh?”
“Girl, I know. Everyone knows! You got that good job, had it for years, and then you try to blow it! You have a habit of doing this stuff. They’ve done you a favor by not kickin’ you out on your ass. I saw the paper. I wonder what’s wrong with you sometimes, Honey. Why can’t you just do what is asked, get what you need, do your work, be quiet and get that check? Be a vigilante on somebody else’s’ time!” Mom laughed as if she were joking, but she knew the woman was damn serious.
I never told anyone about me being on probation. How’d this get out? Who told? This rubbed her all sorts of ways, and none of them were right.
“Well, I gotta go,” Mama said after a long, pregnant pause.