“And, I was embarrassed, apologized, and he followed me out of the coffee shop. He owns the barber shop directly across from me. Then he proceeded to offer me a discount if I came and checked them out sometime.”
“Yeah, because you really need to cut all that long, beautiful coppery-red hair off your head,” she replied sarcastically.
“Well, apparently, there are hairstylists in there too. They don’t just do haircuts.”
“Okay, so he’s just as loony as you are, and he’s a business owner. Is he fine, friend?”
“Girl, I wanted to rip that man’s clothes off and ride him right there. You know that’s not like me.”
“Honey, any girl who hasn’t had dick in two years is susceptible to humping the first man that walks by and pays her attention. Just be careful, friend. I don’t want you hurt again.”
She was right. Along with the stress of my last job and being sexually harassed by the head chef, I also had problems in my relationship at the time. Carl Stubbs, my ex-boyfriend, was not the most supportive person in the world. He gaslit me the entire time, making me feel that what I was going through with the chef was my fault.
He blamed me for the way that I wore my hair, how I dressed, the perfume I wore, and how late I used to stay at nights. No matter what I did, it wasn’t good enough, and the chef was only harassing me because of something that I did to get his attention.
I had been unhappy with Carl for a while. The first year, he used to do nice little things for me like take me out, buy me charms for my charm bracelet, cute little rings and necklaces—nothing too expensive or fancy. The second year, he upped his game a little and would splurge on outfits and lingerie he liked seeing me in, and I would reciprocate by gifting him with things I knew he liked. I started suggesting vacations together, but he made sure that I paid for my half, which rankled me a bit, but I didn’t complain.
Our third year, he started “forgetting his wallet” at home whenever we went out or saying that his check was short. There was always another reason why I had to pay for our excursions and dates. By the fourth year, he wasn’t even bothering with the excuses anymore. He would just expect me to pay for everything, and if I said something about it, he would tell me to stop complaining and nagging. He would say that I should be grateful for my blessings and stop being so selfish.
If I pointed out that he was my man, he would come back with, why do women want all the independent privileges and benefits, but none of the responsibilities?
When I lost my job at Seasoned, he was frustrated whenever I asked him to cover something. We stopped going out, andall we did was argue and barely had sex. He complained about everything that I did, and he was emotionally unavailable for me while I was going through the rough patch at Seasoned.
When I asked if I could temporarily move in with him because I might get evicted soon if I couldn’t get the money to pay my bills, he gave a firm no. He pointed out that my parents had a house large enough for me to move into.
Whenever I pointed out the problems in our relationship, he tried to make me believe they were all in my mind, or if they did exist, it was my fault.
For the sake of my mental health, I broke things off with him. I had lost a dead-end job; why not lose a dead-end man? He wasn’t going to marry me or ever be a good husband.
At that point, I decided it was time to start life over on my terms. I got a loan from my parents, paid my bills up a year in advance, and started an online bakery. From there, I was able to grow my business, my customer base, and eventually repay my parents. After I did that, I took out a bigger loan at the bank to open Baby Got Buns. I hadn’t looked back, and I’d be damned if I allowed another man in my space to fuck up my dreams.
Fine or not fine, I didn’t need Harlem in my life, not right now anyway.
4
HARLEM
THE INSPECTION – FOUR DAYS LATER
Ipulled up to my reserved space in front of my shop and parked my baby there. I had an iridescent-pearl 2024 Toyota Land Cruiser, a matte-black 2019 Jeep Rubicon, and a brand-new sage-green 2026 Ford Maverick. Today, I was driving the Ford.
I hopped out of my truck and glanced across the street the way I always did, to check to see if Miss Lady was there. I spotted her silver Audi Q7 parked in its usual spot. I jogged to the coffee shop after locking my vehicle and went straight to the counter, thankful that there wasn’t a line.
That was what I loved about late mornings. There were seldom people at the coffee shop, no more than a handful. Of the few that were there, they were seated at tables and focused on their laptops. I knew that at least two of them were aspiring authors and three were students. I wasn’t sure about the others.
“Hey, Syndee.”
“Hey, Harlem. Your usual?” the barista asked, moving to start my order.
“Yeah. Uhm, let me ask you something. Have you ever been in here when the lady across the street places her order? She orders the same thing that I do.”
“You mean Tegan?”
“Yeah.”
“Yes, I’ve filled her order before.”
“Has she been in today?”
