Whispers in the Night by Brandon Massey Read Free Book Online Page A

KKK hard at their heels because her grandmother had married a black man. She told him how much she hated being called “high yella” or “redbone” as if she were some other race than black and how she hated being called a mulatto most of all because it sounded so much like “mutt,” which she’d also been called on a few occasions. Malik kept his own stories to himself, listening instead, staring at her tiny brown hand in his and wondering what he’d ever been afraid of.
    â€œWhat about your parents?” he asked. “Were they both black?”
    â€œMy mom, like I said, was half black and half white and my dad was Puerto Rican.”
    â€œSo what do you consider yourself, then?”
    â€œWell, Puerto Ricans have black blood in them too so I just call myself black. It gets too complicated otherwise.”
    She smiled and Malik smiled with her. The waiter brought their food and they ate their meal of Cornish game hens stuffed with wild rice and cranberries in small bites in between conversation, sipping white zinfandel and never once breaking eye contact.
    When the check came, they both agreed not to let the night end. They went to a nightclub down the street and sat at the bar, drinking and talking. A Marvin Gaye song came on and they went out on the dance floor, hugging each other closely and swaying to the beat. He kissed her lightly on the lips as they danced to “Purple Rain” and she kissed him back deeply and passionately as the song ended.
    An hour later, she was nestled close to him with his arm around her shoulders and her head on his chest as he hailed a cab.
    â€œWhere to?” the cabbie asked.
    They looked at each other and Danika smiled again when Malik gave the taxi driver his home address.
    â€œSo, why did you act so weird around me at the office? I’ve been there a week and you never even looked at me.”
    â€œOh, I looked at you. I just didn’t know why you were always looking at me. It made me nervous.”
    â€œWhat? Did you think I was some kind of crazy stalker or serial killer or something?”
    Malik chuckled. “Something like that.”
    â€œI’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I just wanted to get with you, so I was trying to let you know I was interested.”
    â€œGirls like you aren’t normally interested in brothas like me.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, girls like me?”
    Malik paused. He knew what he meant, but knew that it would offend her if he said it. “Sistas as pretty as you don’t normally dig me. I mean, I know a lot of white girls are into my look, but you know how they are. Once they decide they’re into brothas they ain’t too choosy.”
    â€œDon’t tell me you’ve got self-esteem issues? You? I would never have guessed that. I mean, with a body like yours I’d think you could get any woman you want. I was worried that I didn’t look good enough for you.”
    â€œYou’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
    He reached out and stroked his fingers through her thick curly brown hair, staring at her staggeringly beautiful face in amazement, amazed that she was actually attracted to him.
    â€œIs that why you spend so much time working on this magnificent body of yours? You really don’t believe you’re handsome?”
    She ran her tiny brown hands over his muscular chest as they huddled together in the back of the taxi. She slid them over his shoulders and up his neck, cupping his face in her palms. “I think you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”
    They were still kissing when they paid the taxi fare and stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of Malik’s house. Malik was in heaven. It almost felt as if he was falling in love, on the first date, and with a woman whose skin was the color of cinnamon pastry. The whole thing made Malik as nervous as it did happy. It had been hours since