Page 27 of The Key To His Soul
Me: Rain check.
I hit send without giving it too much thought. I had a dessert date to get to.
CHAPTER 6
Dessert, Perhaps?
MEHKI
Ice cream, nigga? Fuck I got goin’ on?I thought to myself, getting up from the couch.
I chuckled, shaking my head, because calling Key out of her house this late wasn’t the plan. Hell, calling her at all wasn’t how I planned to end my night. I was supposed to be balls deep inside Karima for the third time after dinner, but her intrusive thoughts fucked that up. We’d gone from enjoying a good meal and conversation to her questioning my intentions with Key. Although her questions weren’t argumentative in nature, having to remind her, again, that she was on a need-to-know basis blew me.
And even when I tried to stir the conversation away from the “other woman” topic, she somehow found her way back to Key. And when she asked if I planned to see her again, I put her out of her misery and let her know that we’d linked earlier in the day. That was a truth she wasn’t ready to hear. My response was simple and honest. I wasn’t going to lie about it because the truth was, there wasn’t shit to lie about. Key wasn’t a prospect for a relationship at the moment. She was just a woman I wanted to get to know. I wasn’t easily intrigued, but she had something I wanted to give my time to.
Karima didn’t see it that way. What she saw was another woman infringing on her time. And when she kept throwing shots that she thought were going over my head, I decided to call it a night. After dropping her off at home, I went to my house to shower and chill. I couldn’t say when Key popped in my head, but she did, and here I was, grabbing my wallet to head back out the door.
I was familiar with the area around Sullivan’s Diner, so I knew there was an ice cream shop not too far from it that stayed open late. It was just my luck that when I pulled up to the storefront, there was a woman standing at the door, flipping the open sign to closed. That didn’t stop me from double parking and jogging up to the entrance. Money talked, and I wasn’t deviating from the plan that I’d already set in motion.
“We’re closed,” she said from behind the door, giving me an apologetic look with her hand pressed against it.
“I see that, shorty. I just need to grab two orders real quick. I got a hunnit for ya tip if you can make it happen.”
She paused, staring at me then at the sign that now readclosed. “Just two orders, right?”
“Just two,” I repeated.
“I need to see the hundred.”
“Got you,” I agreed, pulling the money from my pocket and holding the hundred-dollar bill up to the window.
She examined it through the glass before nodding. “I’m letting you know now, I’m licensed to carry, and I’m a clean shot,” she said matter-of-factly.
I held my hands out in front of me, fully understanding her need to be on guard. She was a young woman in New York City, and it was late. Generosity could get you killed on any given day. I respected that she was letting me know in not so many words that she would defend herself by any means necessary.
“I ain’t on that. I just wanna get some ice cream,” I assured her.
“Okay.” Unlocking the door, she pulled it open and stepped aside to let me in.
When she gestured for me to walk ahead of her, I didn’t challenge it. She was doing me a favor, and I wanted to ease any uncertainty she may have had.
“What can I get for you?” she asked, walking behind the counter and snapping on a pair of gloves. “I can’t do any specialty flavors. You know, with us being closed and all.”
“All good. I’ll take three scoops of cookies and cream and three scoops of butter pecan. Both in a cup.”
“Butter pecan?” she repeated with the same face I gave Key when she said it to me. “Your grandmother must’ve sent you on a late-night run.” She giggled.
“You’d be surprised.” I chuckled.
Scooping a generous amount of each flavor into both cups, she wrapped them both separately and placed them in a bag. “Here you go. That’ll be $17.50.”
“$117.50,” I corrected, handing her a one-hundred-dollar bill and a twenty in exchange for the bag. “That’s all you. I appreciate this,” I said, holding the bag up.
She shot me a genuine smile and walked back around the counter as I headed for the door. “No problem. And good luck.”
“With what?” I asked with a frown, trying to figure out what she knew that I hadn’t said.
“Whoever has you out at this time of night buying ice cream. She must be special, or you’re trying to make a good impression. Either way, this is cute. It’s unique too. Not something she’ll see coming.”
