“I’ll miss you, Eze, but I’m so excited for you.” She’d embarrassed him with the sentiment.
“You can visit,” he’d said gruffly. “The flight is only an hour.”
She laughed. “With my finances, I think the train and ferry option would be a better option.”
“I’ll send you flight fare whenever you wish.”
Mags had felt her cheeks pinken. She wouldn’t allow him to do that, but it had been a very kind offer.
Eze had to have been close to six and a half feet tall. He was Nigerian royalty, which he only copped to because one of his father’s guards came by the shop once to deliver a “royal summons.” He had the most beautiful, dark skin. She didn’t know what his hair would look like because he kept it close to his scalp and he usually had a woolen cap on, but his beard was thick and curly and shimmered in the sun.
He told her once that he’d had a serious boyfriend before he went to university in America. He was tightlipped about his private life other than that. So, before their shift ended earlier, and she asked him to please pretend to be her slightly amorous date for a charity event, his eyes bulged in surprise.
He hadn’t spoken for so long that Mags was afraid her request might have broken him. “Eze,” Mags said desperately, “forget I asked. It was dumb. I know you aren’t interested in me for heaven’s sake. I’m not interested in you. I mean, you’re a looker, don’t get me wrong, but…but?—”
“You want to make some bloke jealous. Am I right?”
She’d hung her head in shame, but she wasn’t a liar. “Yes. I thought he liked me like I liked him. He kissed me on New Year’s Eve almost three years ago. He kissed another girl right after. I’m embarrassed that I still feel some humiliation over it. The real problem is that he’s also one of my best friends. All our friends hang out together. He usually has an obnoxious date on his arm.”
“Fine.”
“What? Fine?” Mags practically screamed, shaking off some of the fish guts from her apron. “Really? Oh, Christ, Eze, you’re saving my life.”
He laughed, well, an Eze type of laugh, which meant he was still sober-faced, but there was a slight crease next to his eyes.
“Do you have a dress?”
“I’m taking care of that after work. Remember, I’m getting paid from my first client tonight!”
“Margaret,” he started with quiet intensity, “I don’t understand why you are hiding your difficulties from your friends, but that’s your prerogative. In the meantime, while you’re working on becoming a famous designer, I need you to know that I can help you financially. It grieves me that you won’t accept my help.”
“Being my friend helps me, Eze. I don’t need more than that from you. Besides, hard work builds character. I should have quite an overflow in my character bank already,” she laughed.
He wasn’t amused. “Does starving build character as well?”
“Don’t,” she held up the hand not holding the filet knife. “How’s this, I’ll let you buy my dinner at Gray Eyes tomorrow night?”
“That was a given as you’re my date,” he huffed. “I do have a favor to ask of you as well.”
“You do? Anything.”
He grabbed another cod from the basket between them and began cleaning it. Without looking at her, he said, “My mother’s sixtieth birthday is in two months, which I know isn’t much time, but she loves fans.”
“Fans?” she encouraged further detail.
“Nigerian women enjoy using a fan at important events that matches their outfit. It must have feathers.”
“Feathers. Okay.” Pulling teeth with pliers would hurt less. “Did you want me to make a fan for your mom?”
He let out a relieved breath. “Yes. With feathers, and the inside done in your embroidery. English roses.”
“Oh, Eze, that would be stunning. Any particular reason you want roses?”
“I’m my mother’s youngest child, and she’s been upset with me about taking the job in England.”
“Ahh,” she finally understood, “and you want to give her something traditional with something of her son’s new life incorporated.”
“Exactly. I’ll provide the fan.”
