“Peace out.”
They let themselves out and I stared up at the ceiling. I was pissed at Roxie. No damn doubt about that. Felix had genuinely hurt me, though, and it wasn’t the first time. First he’d spread my business in the streets about Sheila and now this. What the fuck was up with him?
My mind drifted to her again. Rayne Waters. Her friend, Chance, had approached me in the bank the week before and played twenty questions. I was overwhelmed because I could tell she was on a fact-finding mission for her fine ass friend. I didn’t pursue the possibilities. I had Roxie to think about and I’d already betrayed Roxie once in high school with a hooker named Angel. No way was I going to intentionally hurt her again. Instead, she’d hurt me. She’d fucked my best friend during a social gathering at my home. No, Roxie had to go. Her ass was grass.
I called information and got Rayne’s number. Since she worked downtown, I took a chance that she lived in D.C. and not in the suburbs. The commute would’ve been insane, even though hundreds of thousands of people did it daily. There was only one Rayne Waters listed, which came as no surprise since her name was so unusual.
I picked up the phone no less than five times before I finally worked up the nerve to punch in her number. Just my luck, I got her machine.
“Hello. You’ve reached Rayne. I’m not in right now. I’m at the ESPN Zone watching America’s Team kick some Redskin be-hind. If you’re a Cowboys fan, you’re welcome to leave a message. If you’re not, then I guess this simply isn’t your day. Later.”
I had no idea what to say. Her voice was so damn sexy. The first time I’d actually heard it. I hung up a few seconds after the beat. That was all wrong. Leaving a message on her home phone when we’d never held any form of conversation at the bank was inappropriate. I didn’t want her to think I was a stalker. I didn’t know a damn thing about the sister except she was fine, but I knew I wanted her to be a part of my life. I’d wanted that for a long time and now that it appeared she was available also, nothing and no one was going to stand in my way. However, if she and I were going to become an item, she’d have to give up the damn Cowboys and convert to a Redskin.
Fifteen
Rayne
Basil and I had a ball at the ESPN Zone. The plush leather seats and walls full of televisions provided the ultimate viewing experience. The Cowboys won the game 35–14 and I was floating on air as we walked around the corner of my building. I was damn near skipping down the street.
After much discussion, Basil and I had mutually decided that it was in our best interest to remain friends. We’d hung out a few more times since his accident and he was a really cool individual. His only drawback being that he wanted to remain a virgin until he was married. I truly admired that and I told him as much. However, I was blunt with him. I needed sexual stimulation on a regular basis and I wasn’t willing to get married sight or, in this case, dick unseen.
Once Basil realized I wasn’t going to jump his bones, he relaxed and enjoyed our little escapades. We’d go out, he’d bring me home, stay about ten or fifteen minutes, and then break out. Since Chance was Ricky-whipped, it was good to have someone else to hop around the District with. I had a few other local girlfriends but most of them were always on a date, going away for the weekend, or busy trying to climb up the corporate ladder.
Basil had barely left when my phone rang.
“Hello, this is the Washington, D.C., Dallas Cowboys fan club,” I yelled into the phone. “Can I help you?”
“Rayne? Is that you?”
I recognized the voice immediately. Sexy, sexy.
“Hey, Kahlil,” I said seductively, lowering my voice.
Kahlil Peterson was my version of Mr. All That. When Chance and I had first started working at the bank, Kahlil was the head teller and our direct supervisor. A little over six feet tall, hazelnut skin, and slanted charcoal eyes. Too damn fine.
Of course, trying to get with him was out of the question. You never shit where you eat. That didn’t stop me from fantasizing about him day and night. He was one of the funniest people I’d ever met; always greeting Chance and me in the morning with the joke of the day. Kahlil was one of those people that everyone, male and female alike, got along with.
When he left to take a job with a competitor, I couldn’t blame him since it meant a promotion and raise; something First Community Bank had been slow to come up off of. I’d missed him terribly. To have him call me after the game of the decade only added to my great mood.
“Rayne, I’m sorry to call you up out of the blue.”
“Don’t mention it, Kahlil. It’s good to hear your voice.” Damn, was it! “What’s new?”
“Not much. What about yourself? You still at First Community?”
“Yes,” I answered. “Chance and I are both still there.”
“Chance. How’s she doing?”
“Great.”
“She still h
anging with Ricky?”
“Uh-huh, they’re still together.”
“Cool.”