Page 37 of Mr. Blackwood

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“His mama and me named him Jamal. I don’t know where he gets that Jabari shit from. That ain’t his birth name. He changed it.”

Well, that answered the question of who Jamal was, but it opened so many other questions. Why did he say Jamal was dead? Why did he change his name? And who was Malik?

“Why would he do that?”

As openly as the man assessed me and every inch of my body, I did the same thing with him. He wasn’t as tall as Jabari, but he was close. I surmised that he was about three inches shorter than Jabari’s six-five. They shared the same rich, deep coffee shade of skin and the same distrusting almond-shaped, hooded, chocolate eyes. Their lip shape was the same, but where Jabari’s full, heart-shaped lips looked sexy, soft, and kissable, his father’s were chapped and pink from too much alcohol.

“You look right smart. Why do most folks do stuff like that? Tryna hide something.” He tapped his temple. “You gotta think, pretty lady.”

“What would he have to hide?”

The man smirked and asked, “Who are you?”

“Just someone who cares.” That part wasn’t a lie. The motive that had me chasing him down in the street to get those elusive answers wasn’t the same motive that had me linking up with Jabari in the first place.

He sized me up again, but this time not in a sexual way as before. “You want the truth? You want his story?”

“His story?” I shuffled sideways as someone stepped out of the shop that we were standing in front of.

“Yeah. You think I don’t recognize you? You’re the owner of that black CEO magazine. What’s it called?” He snapped his fingers and looked up to the sky, trying to recall the name of my magazine.

“ColorMe CEO,” I answered.

“Yeah. How much are you willing to pay me for my story?”

This man was irritating me, and I wasn’t sure why I thought it would be this easy. After all, I’d just heard him hitting his son up for some major bucks.

“We don’t buy stories.”

He shrugged and turned his lips down. “Then you don’t get a story.” He turned and walked away from me.

I stood in front of the shop weighing my options: I could walk back to the office and demand that Jabari tell me everything, or I could give him what he was asking for. There was just one problem with that: I wasn’t sure how much he was willing to settle for.

As much as I hated to do it, I was desperate for the truth. Who was the man I was falling in love with? The revelation that I was falling in love with him hit me deep in my core. I’d known that I was falling for him, but I thought it was more of an intense like and care than love.

Knowing that Jabari was dealing with what he had to deal with from this man, and that he’d had to change certain things about himself to escape his past made me want to love him and protect him.

“I’ve got a hundred bucks on me now.”

“You think I’m a crackhead or something? My son would pay me a hell of a lot more to keep my mouth shut.”

“It seems like your son doesn’t care about what you do, but he’s determined he’s not paying you another dime.”

He turned and walked away again.

I ran after him and grabbed his shoulder. “I’ve got a grand and nothing more.”

He nodded and replied, “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Let’s go someplace where we can talk,” I suggested.

I led him back to my car so that I could drive to an ATM and then to an out-of-the-way coffee shop to talk.

16 – JABARI

TWO DAYS LATER