In Too Deep Read Free Page B

because months into the relationship, I quickly discovered that he couldn’t keep a job to save his life. And when it came to career goals, he had no clue as to what they were. Worst yet, as soon as he realized I was making a nice-sized salary, he became a leech trying his damndest to survive off of all of the long hours I put into my job. I got rid of him quickly, but the damage had been done: time and energy had been wasted.
    My next pleasure trip was with Derek. He wasn’t the prettiest of brothers, but at least he had a steady job, and was a great conversationalist. After six months, I learned to look past his beady eyes, his crooked smile, and his flared nostrils, and take him for what he was—a nice, hardworking black man. Only problem with Derek was that he forgot to mention to me that he had six kids to four different women, and enough baby mama drama to make Carl Weber proud. Thankfully, I never let him have a piece of me.
    I dated a few others here and there, but like all the rest, they gave me nothing but grief. I soon developed the mind-set that men couldn’t hold a job, couldn’t keep their zippers from falling down, couldn’t tell the truth, didn’t know what it meant to make love, and didn’t understand that the world didn’t revolve around them. I was frustrated and intent on avoiding the whole relationship pit, so when I met Randy, the last thing I expected was to fall head over heels for him.
    I was in the mall shopping, when he literally ran into me, nearly sending me to the ground to join the bags I’d been holding. I was in a foul mood that day. I’d just lost a case earlier that morning, and my client had to go to jail for three years simply because his friend decided to rob a 7-Eleven while he waited in the car. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and to his “good” fortune, they were in my client’s car. His friend shot the cashier behind the counter, almost killing him. That had been the nail in the coffin. They were arrested, and my client, who happened to be my girlfriend’s little brother, became an accomplice to the crime.
    Needless to say, Randy bumping into me was not what I needed at the time, because I was already ticking and ready to blow. And that’s just what I was about to do until I looked up and made eye contact with him. As God was my witness, I swear I was almost at a loss for words; that’s how fine Randy was. And it wasn’t just his looks. I mean yes, he did have an intense pair of deep-set chocolate-brown, bedroom eyes. And yes, his lips were so Boris Kodjoe fine that I wanted to stretch up on my tiptoes and sample them for days. And okay, his build was all man—broad shoulders and thick arms—both major turn-ons for me. But what truly made him one of the handsomest men I’d ever laid my eyes on was his style. Everything was just right. The Brooks Brothers suit he wore was expensive and tailored, and didn’t hide the fact that he was a regular at a gym. The jewelry he had on—a silver bracelet and silver chain with a cross hanging from it—were both simple, unlike the gaudy pieces most men like to wear these days. He was well groomed with a faded goatee connected to his sideburns. And instead of cornrows, his hair was cut low and tapered at the sides. Best of all, with his back straight and his chest out, his posture reeked confidence and professionalism, and that was a big plus in my book, because as far as I’m concerned, there is nothing worse than a man with bad posture.
    Completely taken by the complete package standing in front of me, I didn’t say anything for a few short seconds, but instead stared at Randy and thought to myself that there was just something about him that felt familiar and right. Finally, when I opened my mouth to speak, instead of exploding like I was going to do, I did something that was out of character for me: I flirted. To make a long story