Page 38 of Save Room for Us

He nodded in response and pulled off. Along with his cloth shorts, he wore a wife beater, socks, slides, and a white do-rag to tie down his dark, lengthy locks. His caramel complexion was decorated with plenty of artwork, even on his hand that he used to caress his very moisturized and well-kept beard. His watch looked expensive, despite it not being completely decked out with diamonds.

“You set up an account for ya daughter?”

“Yep, as soon as she was born. I would’ve done it sooner, but they needed information that I just wouldn’t have had until she was birthed.”

Asif toyed with his beard hair some more while staring at the road like he was in deep thought. I wanted to ask what that was about but didn’t want to pry.

“That’s dope.” He finally offered a delayed response. “You put ya daughter first a lot.”

“Yeah. I honestly don’t even remember what I did with my free time when I didn’t have her.” I chuckled.

“She take up all ya free time?”

“Pretty much. That, church on Sundays, and Monopoly. Why?”

I immediately regretted the Monopoly comment because now I felt like he for sure thought I was a boring granny.

He snickered cutely, still stroking his beard, in deep thought, before he dragged his tongue across his bottom lip. He always did that, I’d learned, when he was in deep thought about something. I wasn’t sure what I’d said that would render such a pondering though.

“I want some of that free time, love.”

“Some?”

“I’ll share with Sophie, of course. But everything else, let me have it. I don’t wanna give you any free space or time to spend on another nigga. I don’t give a fuck if it’s ten minutes, I want it.”

I smiled on the low as he kept his eyes on the road, only allowing me to see the pretty mixture of jade and amber for a brief moment.

“According to you, you’re gonna put the word out about me, and therefore, niggas won’t wanna be around me.”

“The smart ones. But you always got the few stupid muthafuckas willing to crash out over something pretty. Don’t let her be smart as fuck and a good mother too.”

I couldn’t stop my cheeks from rising, hearing the things Asif said about me. I was embarrassed that though he hadn’t done much, I wasn’t used to this type of treatment. The roses for no reason, the subtle but real compliments, and just the feeling of being wanted by a man that had something going for himself and could have any damn body.

For the next hour, Asif drove me everywhere that I needed to go, coming inside whenever I wanted him to. He didn’t complain once, even when I stupidly had him make circles instead of planning our route better. He was compliant, going wherever I needed, all while keeping me entertained the whole ride with music, jokes, and, of course, compliments.

I’d checked in on Sophie, and when my mama basically told me they were fine and to leave them both alone, I decided to stick with Asif for a little longer.

It was hard not to hover over Sophie, which both my mom and Lisara said was normal. I chuckled, remembering Lisara say she didn’t even want family to babysit Khari, but by the time Lequay came, she would let the mailman watch them both if he offered.

“What’s funny?” Asif quizzed.

“Nothing.”

“You hungry? I know damn well you ain’t bring ya fucking lunch to run errands.”

Giggling, I shook my head saying, “No, and yes, I could eat.”

“Anything in particular you got a taste for? Or does a nigga have complete autonomy?”

“You pick.”

“Aight.” He grinned, and I hoped it wasn’t anything too crazy.

“If it’s cool, I would rather not go inside a place. Nothing against you; I’m just not in the mood to be seen or recognized by the public.”

“I got you, baby.”

We ended up at this taco place off of Crenshaw and 67thPlace, where they had a drive-through. As Asif placed our order, his hand rested on my thigh as if it was the normal between us, and I couldn’t ignore the goosebumps rising on my skin like it always did whenever he touched me. His hands were always warm, fingernails clean, and while not soft in the slightest, they weren’t scratchy to the touch.

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