“You’re welcome.” She was blushing.
“Uh, I have a dinner obligation. Team shit.” I took a deep breath. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt nervous aboutasking a woman to spend time with me. But the thought that she might reject my offer was already messing with me. “Will you be at the beach bonfire later?”
She answered my question with a question. “Will you?”
“Yeah.”
She smiled. “Maybe I’ll see you there. It was nice meeting you, Spence.”
“It was nice meeting you too, Sun.”
She giggled, gave me a small wave, and disappeared.
3
SOLEIL
The beach was crowded with people. I wasn’t really surprised. Though black people didn’t tend to celebrate too many occasions with beach bonfires, the dominant culture did seem to really enjoy them. There was laughter, a live band playing on a stage that had been set up, and even a lone guitarist sitting close to the fire, strumming an unfamiliar tune. The temperature was perfect, having cooled significantly from the heat of the day.
I was hungry, so I walked closer to the road where several food trucks were parked. I was glad about that because dinner had been a bit of a bust. The powers that be had decided that the first night should have a “luau” theme. I didn’t eat pork and really couldn’t handle the smell of cooking pork chops. Needless to say, the smell of a whole roasting pig drove me to seek solace in my hotel room.
“What’s up, Soleil?” I heard Spencer’s voice call out above the crowd before he was standing right next to me.
This man was the finest! I wasn’t sure how I hadn’t noticed before, but when he was in the area, I very much became Lauryn Hill—nothing even matteredanymore. It took completeconcentration to talk to him because all I really wanted to do was stare. “Hey, Spence.”
He must’ve followed my line of sight. “You thinkin’ about eatin’?”
“Yeah. I skipped that luau they had in the restaurant.”
“You ain’t miss nothin’. I don’t eat pork, but they had some chicken and some salmon. Nothing was seasoned. I don’t know who cooked it, but whoever cooked it isn’t a fan of seasoning.”
“So,” I said because just talking about food was making my stomach grumble, “I’m thinking tacos.”
“Tacos? Cool.”
I made a face at him because of the way he said it. “What’s wrong with tacos? They’re delicious.” I was all prepared to present my case about what made tacos so top-tier.
“Nah, they’re good. They’re just . . . messy. And you’re out here knowing you been putting that shit on all day. I’m just thinking about some sauce or something ruinin’ your ‘fit.”
His explanation made me smile. He was really either a genuinely nice guy, or his representative was next level.
“Listen,” I said looking up into his soft brown eyes. “If you’re gonna hang with me, you’re gonna have to understand that I eat. Me and food have a very compatible relationship. No outfit will ever be allowed to stand in the way of me satisfying a specific craving I’m having.”
“Duly noted.” His smile was wide. “Tacos, it is.”
We walked over to the truck. I ordered three grilled chicken tacos with the works and a drink. He ordered six steak tacos and a drink. Once we had our food, I followed him over to a less-populated stretch of the beach where there were a few benches.
He took a bite of his taco and looked at it critically. I was just about to ask if something was wrong with it when he spoke. “Damn, that’s good.”
I giggled and unwrapped my first taco. “Dang, it really is,” I said after I swallowed the first bite.
“So. How’d you end up here? You a big donor?”
I laughed for real. “No. Not at all. I won a raffle at the youth camp gala that Maddox Mayhew throws every year.”
“Damn. Congratulations. You probably beat out hundreds of people.”
“Yeah,” I acknowledged. “Initially, it was supposed to be a Father’s Day gift for my dad, but he couldn’t make the trip. It was either I come on the trip, or I forfeit it. My daddy and my best friend talked me into coming.”
