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“That’s the thing with you millennial Americans.”
I glanced up from my phone and felt my tight eyes loosen as a smile spread on my face while peering over the burning candles centering the dinner table. “What’s that?”
“Your life is in those miniature computers.” He flashed his signature smile.
My beam broadened. “If you’re wondering what’s divided my singular attention from you, just say that.”
He laughed quietly, eyes falling away sheepishly. The man was…attractive. His total package was astoundingly gorgeous, but his face was a five and a half; body—from what I’d only seen in person fully clothed and in pictures with swim trunks—was a seven and three-quarters; and his occupation and financial portfolio, I knew of were at least a nine. All of that calculated to be one hell of an attractive man.
“Okay.” He sat up in his seat, brushing down the three diamond-crusted medallions hanging from his chest. “What’s keeping my beauty’s attention from me?”
“My daughter.” I put the phone to sleep by pressing the hold button, then lay it on the table face up next to my wine glass. “She just arrived home from out of town and I was being notified of her being put to bed.” I sat back and angled my head.
“You’re being a mum,” he stated with what seemed like understanding.
“One of the most important roles in my life.”
“One of them?”
I nodded while sipping wine from a glass, allowing the soft calypso tunes to interlude. “One of them,” I affirmed.
“What are your others?” His British accent was cute and growing on me.
“That’s a very significant and, yet, privy question, Mr. Elba.”
“And this…” He reached over the table to pour himself more wine. “…is a date. Is it not the very appropriate occasion to get to gain knowledge of privileged information?”
I gave a single nod. “That depends.”
“On?”
“Your intentions.” My chin shifted again. “With me,” I noted for emphasis.
Haris Elba flew into Costa Rica today to have dinner with me since he wouldn’t be able to attend theIDCcompetition next weekend. I met him six months ago at a party I attended in Cardiff, Wales. My troupe had just finished a show on that leg of Ragee’s ‘The Rhyme of Love’ tour at thePrincipality Coliseumand wanted to let our hair down before leaving town for the next stop in London. That was my second time performing in Cardiff. The first was with Alana, and with me being a new mom away from my infant, touring for the first time, I didn’t get out much. My body had still been in postpartum condition and I didn’t have my usual confidence or my mind its wit. So, I did very little touring the fascinating places we worked.
The club in Cardiff was different the second time I was in town. The music was broader but mostly familiar, and we danced and drank merrily that night. When it was time to leave, my crew and I were accosted by a group of unsmiling men near the door. Haris approached, asking to speak to me. When I explained it was time for me to go, he said he’d gone out of his way to find me at the club that night. I thought it was a little weird, but not much. My career and person had risen to meteoric heights over the years. I was on more platforms than I could count. I’d had deals with companies such asTikTok,ViacomCBSfor the work I’d done withBET,Asè Garb, Ragee, and theFootballLeague,all thanks to Elle Hunter and herDynamic Brandingteam.
I was now a public figure to a small degree, hence Jas’ insistence on having security travel with me. So, when this dude with a distinct accent approached me, I wasn’t alarmed. I told him he showed up too late and if fate would have it, we’d meet again. Haris told me over the music he didn’t believe in the expectation of fate; he created it. Being tipsy, I was borderline arrogant. My response was he hadn’t done a great job at creating much that night because I was leaving the club right then and there; my curfew had been up. Haris laughed, but I was damn serious. Bob had been sick that night. That circumstance alone should have canceled my outing, but I cut him a deal, which was giving me a curfew. There was no way I wouldn’t honor it that night. I didn’t need Jas on my ass.
With a sweet yet sweaty intoxicated smile, I told him, “Seems to me your man-made fate ain’t the flex you were looking for.” When I stepped off to leave, a card was pushed my way, obstructing my walk away. I stared at Haris’ hanger-on’er, deciding if I should cuss his ass the fuck out. Instead, Borys snatched the card and directed me to the door. Working off the alcohol that night with a shower and sleep took precedence over giving that exchange a second thought. It wasn’t until the next stop in England when I’d see or think of him again. This time, Haris was backstage waiting after our final act.
“My fate is powerful, Shi-Shi. And it’s attached to you,” were his first words to me.
Needless to say, that was the night he’d gotten my attention, and I learned how well-connected he was in Europe and his wealth. We’d seen each other a handful of times since then, mostly rushed and often with someone from my team in tow. He wanted me, I knew. But I’d never been short of faceless men wanting me. Also, I was in a precarious situation with Jas. I’d also been impossibly busy between motherhood and work. It would take a man of keen determination and specific financial backing to compete for time in my face. He’d been a great distraction from me feeling dry in the romance department. I’d actually grown to appreciate his efforts, though I had no damn idea what I’d do with them. My life was wildly complicated now.
“My mum wants a daughter-in-law. I have no time for casual discoveries about random women, Shi-Shi.” His accent brought me back to the here and now.
I wanted to giggle at the way he pronounced my name. Again, it was cute.
“What doyouwant?” I gazed him square in the eyes.
“I want to make Mum happy…but with my own twist.” He smirked.
“And what’s that?”
“An American girl.”
My forehead lifted, and eyes blossomed in amusement. “American?” I tried it out for size, measuring his accomplished smirk. Haris thought he was impressing me. “Sounds kind of fetish-y.” I wrinkled my nose.
