Page 4 of Call Me Mrs. Taylor

“Do you work around here?” she says.

“Right over there in the Optima building.”

Her eyes shift in that direction before refocusing on me. “Okay, Ace. You can have my number, but only if you call me tonight.”

“Oh, you givin’ orders now?”

“It’s not an order, it’s a deal. I don’t like having my time wasted.”

“What makes you think—“

“You have fuckboy energy,” she says. “No shade.”

I put a hand over my heart. “Damn. That hurt my feelings.”

She laughs, and it sounds like sunshine. “Just being honest. I’m not the kind of woman who’s gonna tell you what you wanna hear. I give it straight, no chaser.”

“I see.” I pull my phone out and hand it to her. “I like your vibe, Raya. And Iwillcall you tonight. As you ordered.”

Our fingers brush briefly when she takes the phone out of my hand. She bats her eyelashes playfully, then looks down at my phone. She swipes a few times, her eyes darting across the screen like she’s reading. After a full minute of this, I finally say, “What are you doing?”

Her eyes flicker up and land on mine. “Your phone is weird. I’m trying to get to contacts.”

I grab the phone and hold it up. “Did you miss this big phone icon on the home screen?”

She laughs. “That’s embarrassing.”

“It should be. Just tell me. I’ll put it in since you’re used to flip phones, apparently.”

“Rude.” She calls out the numbers to me. When she pulls out her phone, I think she’s about to ask for mine. I recite my number, but she just shakes her head.

“I’m paying for my lunch,” she says with a smirk. “I’ll get your number tonight when you call me.”

I frown when I see she has an iPhone, but I don’t say anything. How the fuck did she miss that icon?

She stands, and I stand with her, letting my eyes flicker over her body. Black dress, black stilettos. Not bad.

“Can’t wait to hear from you, Ace. Tonight.”

“I got you.”

As soon as she turns, my eyes drop to her ass.

I knew it.

She switches away like she knows I’m watching, and I imagine all the disgusting fun I’m gonna have with her.

Colin whistles when I return to our table. “How’d it go?”

“Come on,” I say, grinning. “When does it ever go bad for me?”

Ian smirks. “It’s the power of the BBC.”

I roll my eyes. “Relax. Black people don’t say that shit, Ian. Yall white boys be the ones obsessed with that shit.”

Ian and Colin both laugh, because there’s no defense. We all know it’s true. But I’m distracted, my thoughts drifting back to Raya. Something about her feels familiar, but also brand new. Different. And I can’t shake the feeling that meeting her is the beginning of something.

3

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