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“You again?” she answered, trying her best to sound bothered.

“You thought about dinner yet?”

“I didn’t take you for the thirsty type, Cardez.”

I chuckled. “I’m persistent, ma.”

She sucked her teeth. “Where you tryna go?”

“Let me worry about that,” I said as I merged onto the Parkway.

I could hear R&B music on her end. I knew she was home and comfortable. My mind started wandering somewhere it had no business going.

“I’ll text you my address,” she said finally.

“Bet. I’ll come get you around 8:00 p.m.”

“This is just dinner. Don’t get it twisted.”

“Mmhm. Goodnight, Beautiful Belle.”

“Bye, Cardez.”

Friday. Five days. I’d figure out where to take her tomorrow.

6 LA’BELLE EVANS

This man and I had been texting all week. I told myself it was just to butter him up, but honestly, I enjoyed the steady flow of texting we kept up all day.

There were no good morning texts with stupid emojis or paragraphs about how he was thinking about me like these other niggas. It was just easy conversation that I’d never had with the other men I’d dealt with.

One day, he called me on his way to a meeting because he wanted to hear my voice for a few minutes. I let him know that was corny and he told me I answered on the first ring so maybe I needed to sit with that before I started talking crazy.

He had a point.

Friday evening, I was in my closet trying on outfits for a dinner I hadn’t told anyone about. Siani would’ve turned it into a whole event, FaceTiming me while I did my makeup, and asking questions that I didn’t have the answers to yet.

I tried on six outfits before settling on a white Andrea Iyamah dress. It was midi-length, sleeveless, with boning, and mostly backless. It was sexy, but tasteful. I kept the jewelry minimal—a diamond tennis bracelet, matching diamond studs, and Manolo heels. I pulled my hair back into a low bun and spent an obscene amount of time beating my face to perfection.

He texted me at 7:59 to let me know he was outside.

I grabbed my clutch, checked myself out in the mirror one last time, and headed down.

My heart raced as I walked through the lobby. I don’t know why I was nervous, Cardez was nothing special, a bag like all the others. But the butterflies in my stomach were saying otherwise.

I took a deep breath and stepped out into the sticky summer evening. Cardez was leaning against a sleek black Lucid. It was different from the BMWs and Mercedes most wealthy men drove. It suited him.

He was in cream linen pants and a fitted black short-sleeve knitted shirt that showed off his muscular arms. A simple gold Cuban link necklace adorned his neck, while another fancy watch, probably worth twice my rent, sat on his wrist. The man looked like summer and trouble all wrapped into one.

“Damn,” he muttered as I approached. His eyes roamed over me slowly and appreciatively.

“Thank you.” I smoothed my dress and kept my face together, even though that one word sent heat up the back of my neck.

He opened my door. The inside was all black leather and cool from the AC. I settled into the seat as he rounded the other side and got in.

“So where are we going?” I asked as he pulled off.

“Dinner.”