Page 5 of They Call Me Dom

“You’re welcome, pretty. Can I get you anything else?”

“Yes. What’s your name? You never told me,” she inquired.

“I didn’t? That was poor communication on my end. I usually start off with my name.” I didn’t forget. I just wanted her to ask me. “My apologies, pretty. They call me Dom. What about you?”

“My name is Laila Cones. What’s Dom short for?” she queried, munching on a chip.

“Dom is short for Domaneek Muse. It’s nice to meet you, Laila.”

“Likewise. Please sit and join me,” she offered.

“Okay.” I took the seat across from her. “Are you a detective?”

I dove right into my questioning her.

“I’m a SWAT agent. It’s a police officer with specialized training and skills that regular officers don’t have.”

“Oh, that’s cool. So, you all deal with serious shit like hostages and raids.”

“Precisely,” she asserted. “Tell me, Dom. What do you do outside of here?”

“When I’m not here, you can catch me at the farmer’s market selling my treats. I make dipped and customized treats that taste delicious,” I revealed.

“Like chocolate covered strawberries?”

“Yes, but a little more intricate than that.”

I went into detail how I crafted my sweets, and Laila was blown away. She asked question after question. I paused our conversation to pick up her food then returned.

“That sounds incredible. You are incredible. Artists are some of the most fascinating people in the world because of their imagination and creativity.”

“Thank you, Laila. I appreciate and receive that compliment. Tell me… Are you from Chicago or did you move here?” I trailed my long acrylic nails up her fingers, and she swallowed hard.

Laila looked at me with a smirk. “I’ve lived here my whole life. What about you?”

“The same. I have another question for you, and please don’t take any offense. I noticed that you’re married, but is it to a man or a woman?”

“No offense taken at all. I’m married to a man. He’s my high school sweetheart,” she expressed openly.

I nodded my understanding. “Does he know that you also like women?”

She looked away and out of the storefront window before she gazed back at me.

“Surtain, my husband, found out two years ago. I made a big mistake, and I’m still trying to earn his trust back. Is it that obvious that I’m attracted to women?”

“To a trained eye, yes. I’ve been an open bisexual since I was twenty, and I’m twenty-eight now. My parents didn’t approve, so they kicked me out. My parents are Southern Baptists, so you can imagine the shame I brought upon the family. After that, though, I refused to live in the closet for anyone. For you, it’sdifferent. You’re married. If your husband is still here with you after he found out the truth the hard way, then that means he still loves you. The best thing to do is try to incorporate both of your preferences in your life. That way, you don’t slip again, trying to hide that side of you.”

Laila nodded and swallowed her food. “That’s some sound advice if I’ve ever heard it. Thank you, Dom. For real.”

“It was all my pleasure.” I stood to leave when she stopped me.

“What days are you at the farmer’s market?”

“Every Saturday and Sunday until closing time. Why do you ask?”

“My husband goes on the weekends when he’s not working at the hospital. I’ll send him your way. I love sweets.”

“Oh, please do. If he’s as beautiful as you, then I’ll throw in something extra for you.”

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