Hot and livid. These are the most accurate words to describe how I have been feeling since waking up Monday morning to the email that the grant I have been waiting for and telling the girls of Kweens Korner about has been demolished. The part that behooved me the most was finding out that the funds were allocated to fund another housing development Regency does not need. The icing on this disgusting cake: this tie-breaking decision was the work of Mayor Jameson Belafonte.
When I filled out the grant application, I spilled my whole life
story and purpose for Kweens Korner on that application. Someone read it. Someone knew how important this was for me, and even if I take myself out of the equation, someone knew how much each of us who applied for the grant money deserved those grants. We all were trying to make a difference in Regency, while the politicians here were more focused on making a profit. No one's different, not even Jameson. This solidified my regret for even getting close to him, and now, I no longer want to see him again. Well, maybe one more time to lay his scummy ass out.
I needed to unwind, de-stress, and unpack all the tension. I had racked my brain tirelessly since finding out about the loss of the grant, trying to figure out how I would get the money for the building. Real estate was being bought up like PlayStation 5 consoles on release day, so I needed to act quickly, or I would be left back at ground zero. I couldn't face the girls with bad news. The standing morning yoga date with Blaire at A Piece of Serenity was the perfect mid-week break I needed.
"Whew, this was exactly what I needed after the start of this week," I admit aloud, catching the door after following Blaire to the street.
"I knew it would be. You deserve a woosah moment," she affirms, wrapping her arm around my bubble jacket-covered arm for a quick squeeze.
Besides Desni, Blaire is probably the only person I consider a best friend. We became friends in college through a marketing class we took in our junior year. We always crossed paths on campus, but that class pushed us into a group project together and the opportunity to get to know each other. We had so much in common, including choosing to be high-maintenance women. Being high maintenance gets a bad rep, but what's wrong with a woman knowing what she wants and deserves and going for it? That's how we classified ourselves. Women who sought the careers we wanted, the things we deserved, and the type of men we wanted to date.
Now, has it been easy in the area of men? Definitely not, for neither of us, which is how Blaire's matchmaking company came about. Speaking of that, I needed to catch her up on things with Braxton.
"Yeah, so about Braxton," I start as we sit down with our hot beverages at Desni's cafe. "We need to go back to the drawing board."
"Ugh, it didn't get better?" she whines, poking out her lip.
"I mean, he tried. He invited me to the restaurant the day after Valentine's Day, but it just wasn't good enough for me," I explained. My thoughts trailed off to how reminiscing over the time spent with Jameson played a role in why I wasn't interested in Braxton any longer. Skipping over that part of my reasoning, I explained the other portion. "I love that he's a businessman, but he doesn't even have it in him to take me to an event he invited me to. And then dinner…at his restaurant? It's a lovely establishment, but it further told me that he lives and breathes his business. I need someone who can balance work and a pursuit of a relationship like they say they are ready for."
I sighed after my spill, low-key feeling depleted all over again. This time, I was thinking about being back at square one in the dating realm. I get it—you have to kiss a few frogs to get to your Prince—but how many frogs do I have to go through? And when I did experience a fairytale moment with the Mayor, it turned out to be a flop. The Prince Charming, affectionately known as Jameson Belafonte, proved to be only politically charming and the scum of the earth.
Blaire peers up at me from her steaming cup and says, "Well, I sort of knew this was coming considering how things went on Valentine's Day, which makes what I'm about to propose to you right on time."
I piqued an eyebrow. "And what exactly is that?"
Blaire bites down on her lip and sucks in a breath, hesitancy taking over her voice and face. "So, I received a call on Monday about a prominent bachelor requesting to be matched with you specifically."
"What?" I question with a shocked laugh.
She nods to me. "Yes, he asked specifically to be matched with you and….this might sound weird at first, but I really think it could benefit you in more than one way."
Blaire was talking and leaving so many holes that it all sounded sketchy, and I told her that. "Blaire, you're talking in circles. Beneficial to me? How?"
She placed her cup on the table and laid her hand over my free hand, causing me more confusion. So much so that I put my cup and hand on the table to brace myself for whatever was about to come out of her mouth.
"So this is the deal: This person wants to match with you and requests that you give them a year of your time—dating, that is. Go on some dates, get to know each other, all of that."
"Well, if he's nice, I don't see why it wouldn't become a long-term thing. That's what I want. Who is it?" I ask, still confused by all the hesitation Blaire was holding.
"That's the thing. I can't tell you who it is. You would have to agree to meet him, and that's when you'll discover his identity. It has to be for a year. You have to sign a contract and all—"
"Whaat?!" I say, flabbergasted. "Blaire, what kind of Love is Blind shit is this?"
"I know, Ken, it sounds wild, but I really don't think you'd be disappointed. Just trust me. At least meet him." Blaire's eyes showed her sincerity even though she still showed hesitation. Knowing her for so long and knowing she wouldn't set me up with some bull had me considering trusting Blaire with this one. Still, this whole contract thing had me thrown.
I suck in a deep breath and release it before agreeing. "I'll agree to meet him, but I'm not agreeing to anything more until I get to ask some questions."
"Good," Blaire says, her face now hopeful. "I knew you'd agree, so I set up the meaning for Friday. Seven at Maxine's."
I scoff in shock. "You knew? Damn, just slap me around and me a floozy!"
We both laughed, followed by Blaire correcting me: "No floozy, just a high-value woman who's not going to pass up an opportunity to meet a prominent man, especially if he is pursuing her."
I was shaking as I gave the valet the keys to my BMW, but it wasn't from the frosty February evening. I had frazzled nerves over this blind date I was about to walk into. The whole day, I fretted over what I should wear. Considering I knew nothing of this man, I couldn't decide based on familiarity with him. So, I opted to keep it chic, cute, and warm since the temperatures had significantly dropped. I tugged at my cream ankle-length sweater dress that contoured my body and tightened the belt to my long overcoat as I walked the sidewalk to the restaurant. I checked my brown patent leather stiletto boots to ensure they were scuff-free before entering Maxine's. Blaire greeted me in the front lobby with two air kisses on each cheek.
"You look gorgeous, doll," she compliments, taking a step back and giving me a once-over. She meets my eyes with anticipation in hers. "He's here. We secured a private room in the back. Follow me."
I followed Blaire through the busy restaurant until we reached a door leading into the private room. As Blaire proceeded to open the door, my nerves bundled in a knot in my stomach, and my breath grew shallow. As we fully entered the room, those bundled nerves released and dispersed throughout my body, creating anger. I stopped in my tracks and blinked hard, hoping I wouldn't still see Jameson when I opened my eyes.
Jameson looked delighted to see me while I stood there with tight lips and a piercing stare his way. When he caught wind, his look went from delight to confusion, and then I was confused as to why he would be puzzled at my disdain of seeing him.
"Kennedy, I do believe you know Mayor Belafonte and Harrison," Blaire introduces slowly, noting the tension I was holding. I cut my eye at her and then back to Jameson. I wanted to lash out at him for getting rid of the grant that was supposed to be mine, but I held myself together for a bit longer to save myself from looking like a crazy woman.
"I do," I say with a tight smile.
Harrison walked up and shook my hand, and then I turned and was met by Jameson's extended hand. I refused to shake his hand and sat at the plated table instead. Stunned and confused, everyone followed suit and had a seat at the table. I didn't know what to say or do because my ideal action would be to speak some choice words. Yet again, I said nothing and waited for an explanation as to why Jameson wanted to meet me and why he wanted to trap me into dating him—a selfish politician.
Harrison broke the silence after a waiter came by to fill our water glasses. "So I'm sure Blaire has told you about the situation—"
"I haven't completely," Blaire cuts in, shooting me a quick apologetic eye.
I scoff and run my tongue over my teeth. "May I ask what situation?"
Harrison bugged his eyes at Jameson as if trying to tell him he needed to say something. I cock my head towards Jameson, waiting for him to respond. I could tell he was dreading this for whatever reason, which met my dread for even being here.
"Kennedy, there's a picture of us from Valentine's floating around," he starts, holding his eyes on me. A short gasp slips my lips, and my eyes widen, thinking about all that happened that night that could've potentially been captured. Seeing this, Jameson quickly responds, "They can't make out that it's you walking out of the event with me, but it's out there, along with a lot of chatter about my personal life." I pursed my lips as he paused before finishing. "As you know, I have plans to run for Governor, and my team, well, Harrison, thinks it's time I start to clean up my dating life as it's taking over my political success—"
"Ha!" I hooted out and cocked my head even further to the side. "So, you want me to date you for a year, committed by a contract, to help you with your political success?" My voice had risen a couple of octaves by the time I finished expressing my bewilderment.
"I know it sounds crazy, but what's up with all this energy towards me?" Jameson pulls back in his chair, looking at me very frustrated and confused. "You act as if I did something wrong. I could be giving you the same energy. I sent you flowers and didn't even get a thank you."
My jaw drops, and I gasp. "I owe you a thank you? Thank you for what? You practically shut down my whole ass dream!"
I'm yelling now, leaving Blaire and Harrison in a pool of surprise. Jameson looked beyond confused and stunned at my tone with him. I didn't care. I was ready to release the wrath.
Jameson looks over to Blaire and Harrison and requests, "Can we have a moment?"
"Are you sure about that?" Harrison asks under his breath.
Blaire shoots her elbow into his side, and he winces. She scolds him through clenched teeth, "Harrison, come on!"
As the two make their way out of the room, I bolt out of my chair and pace a few steps, trying to regain my composure, but after I hear the door shut, I turn to Jameson and release, "How dare you request a thank you from me over some flowers. Thank you for what? You got rid of my grant for my non-profit! And now I have to tell those girls I can't get the building I've been working so hard to secure for them!"
I tried to fight back the waterworks, but a tear escaped my eye. Jameson stood there, mouth agape and registering my revelation. He finally releases a breath and runs his hand over his hair. In a low voice, he responds, "Kennedy, I didn't know your grant was in the mix of the extra funds that were reallocated."
I scoff once more and wipe at my lone tear. I look up at the crystal light fixture and mindlessly say through the cracking of my voice, "I wanted it so fucking bad."
"I-I'm sorry, Kennedy. It's just part of the job. I don't know who or what gets affected—"
"That's the exact point I was making that night," I cut him off, pointing my finger at him. "You politicians do things for your own gain, and then I get—we get hurt."
Jameson takes hold of the finger that I was poking him with and pulls me into his body. His eyes are burning into mine, threatening to melt down my guard. He whispers, nearly in my mouth, "I never had intentions to hurt you. Never."
The magnetism created with our bodies pressed against one another shocked a stifled breath out of me. His words were melting away the tip of my angry ice cap. It was enough for me to find some honesty in them but not enough for the hurt to leave my heart. I tried to pull away, but Jameson wouldn't let an inch fall between us. He stared at me with those same longing eyes from our last night together while I fought to resist turning into malted lava in his arms.
Jameson takes his free hand and swipes at the fallen tears on my wet cheek. His lips were still temptingly close as he whispered, "I'm sorry, Kennedy."
Our lips forcefully collided from the inevitable magnetism I could no longer resist. The attraction between us had a greater pull. I couldn't explain the energy between us, but it was greedy. We hungrily devoured each other mouths with each bob of our heads. As if he feared me leaving, Jameson cupped my face as he swiped his tongue through my mouth. If I hadn't been in my right mind, I would have given myself to him right there, but my mind clicked back to the reality that Jameson had swiped my dreams right from under me only mere days ago.
I pushed at his chest with enough force that it rocked him on his heels. We stared at each other, holding a mixing bowl of emotions and confusion in our looks. What just happened? How did this happen? I questioned and shamed myself at the same time. How could I still be attracted to this man? This man has proven he's everything I said he would be, yet before demolishing my funding; he made me feel like I was in the perfect fairytale. The conflicting thoughts had me in a whirlwind, and I couldn't face him any longer.
I bolted past him and to the door to exit. When I walked out, I was stopped by Harrison, who was leaning against the room's exterior wall. Something told me he heard everything, and when he spoke, it was confirmed that he did.
"Hey, Kennedy, I know this is all a fucked up situation, but perhaps, I can offer something that may help you consider doing this for us."
"Offer me?" I jeered, ready to curse him out as well.
He puts his hand up in protest. "Hear me out. If you consider dating Jameson for the next year, I can offer you 100 thousand dollars. You'd get half as soon as you say yes and sign the contract and the other half at the end of the twelfth month. From the sounds of it, that might help you keep your dream alive while you two can figure out whatever this obvious attraction is between you two."
I jerk my head back in astonishment at the monetary offer and his keen awareness of this uncontrollable attraction between Jameson and me. For a moment, I was at a loss for words. No, I had no words for the five seconds I stood there. I needed to think.
"I need to think," I say aloud.
Harrison reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his card. "Call me if you decide to accept the offer, and I'll set things up immediately."
I tucked his card into my pocket and made my beeline to exit the restaurant.