Private Lessons

He went into his wallet, and took out a twenty-dollar bill. “That’s for you.” He stuck it in her apron pocket. “I need you to go over there and gently ask her if she would be interested in having a guest at her table for dinner.”

The young lady smiled. “Of course.” She walked across the room and approached Naomi. They talked briefly for a moment and then Naomi glanced around the room and her gaze landed on Brice.

Her eyes widened in surprise and excitement. She smiled and he could see her nodding her head. He was halfway across the room before the waitress could reach him.

He stood above her, feeling like a pimple-faced teen at his first high school dance. “Can we start again?”

His voice moved through her like a wave of heat. She inhaled deeply to try to still the rapid beating of her heart.

“I’d like that,” she said softly.

He pulled out a chair and sat down. “Brice Lawrence.”

“Naomi Clarke.”

The waitress returned and took Brice’s and Naomi’s dinner order. They both selected seared salmon and began with the house salad.

“So, you already told me that you were here on vacation.”

She lowered her eyes in embarrassment and tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth. “Sometimes I can sound a little curt. It’s not my intention.”

He waved off her apology. “Forget it. I was being oversensitive. Must be too much sun.” He chuckled and was rewarded with her smile. “How long will you be staying?”

“Two weeks. What about you?”

“That works out perfectly. So am I, or close to it. But I plan on enjoying my entire summer. After I leave here I’m off to Cancún, then I’m meeting friends in San Francisco.”

Naomi thought about Alexis’s counsel, what she’d said about just throwing caution to the wind and relaxing. She was on vacation. She would never have to see him again if things didn’t work out.

The waitress approached and asked if she could refill any drinks. Naomi asked what Brice was drinking.

“I’ll have one of those,” she said. Her heart hammered in her chest.

“One rum punch coming right up.”

“Where are you from?” Naomi asked, trying to get herself together.

“I live in New York. What about you?”

“Uh, Florida.” Where did that come from?

“Really?”

Did he know she was lying? “Yes. Is that strange?”

“No,” he shrugged it off. “I just don’t think Florida when I see a beautiful woman like yourself. And no, that’s not a line. I just think retirement capital when Florida comes to mind.” He leaned a bit forward. “Obviously I have to readjust my thinking.”

Her cheeks heated with pleasure. Being a woman of many, many words, she was at a total loss.

The music changed from calypso to something soft and slow. Several couples moved onto the dance floor.

“Would you like to dance?”

“Oh…I…couldn’t…”

“Sure you could.” He stood up and took her hand and gently pulled her to her feet. He rested his palm at that low dip in her back and led her onto the floor. When he found a good spot he turned her into his arms, and she nearly gasped when the full length of her body pressed up against his. For a moment her head grew light and the room seemed to shift, until he steadied her in his embrace. She felt as if she’d lost total control of her limbs. They wouldn’t move.

“Relax,” he whispered, holding her tenderly, not too close but close enough for him to feel her warmth, the beat of her heart and the slight tremors that ran up and down her body and tingled his fingertips.

He smelled so incredibly good, Naomi thought, and felt herself drifting easily into his embrace, miraculously following his lead without stepping on his feet.

“So, Ms. Naomi,” he said, breathing into her hair. “How about if, in the time we have left on the island, we get to know each other?”

She titled her head back and looked up into his eyes. “I’d like that very much.”

After all, she was a woman from Florida and after this island jaunt she’d never see him again.

Chapter Three

He was so easy to be with, Naomi realized as they ate and talked and laughed. He was funny, handsome, sexy and intelligent. She was surprised to learn that he was a high school math teacher after leaving a six-figure job in corporate America and had aspirations of opening his own school for young men.

“That’s a monumental task,” Naomi said. “But so desperately needed.”

Brice nodded. “Our young black men are under siege. They need so much, and the system is set up to have them fail. When I was working on Wall Street, I was one of barely a half dozen men of color in my giant corporate building, and those other guys were working in the mail room or were on the cleaning crews. I’d go into meetings and be “the only one.” And it’s like that all over corporate America. Young black men are not in decision-making positions or making the money.” He shook his head. “They need to be prepared and not prepared to work for someone else but to be entrepreneurs, inventors, thinkers. But that won’t happen in educational institutions that don’t have young black boys interests at heart. I can’t change the world, but maybe I can start with one young man, one school at a time.”

His voice and the fierce look in his dark eyes radiate the passion that he felt and the mission he believed himself to be on. You couldn’t listen to him and not get swept up in his dream for a better future for young black men. “How far away are you from opening your school?”

His smile was only halfway there. “Not as near as I need to be. It will take some time, but I’m focused. I’ve been working on putting several things into place over the past year and a half. I’m getting closer.” He turned his glass around in a slow circle on the table. “Funny, I haven’t told anyone besides my best friend, Carl, about ‘my school.’” He looked into her eyes.

Her heart pounded. “Oh. I’m…honored that you…told me.”

“You’re easy to talk to.”

Was it the way he was looking at her or the rum punch that was making her head spin?

“I’ve been so busy talking about me, what about you? What do you do in sunny Florida?”

She swallowed through her suddenly dry throat. She’d already started this off on a lie. How could she say something different now? This was crazy. She should have never listened to Alexis. “I work at a bookstore and take classes at night,” she blurted out, surprising herself with the ease of the flow. Must come from years of reading fiction, she thought in the back of her head.

“You keep surprising me,” he said. “Which bookstore?”

“Uh, Greenlight Books. It’s one of the small independent stores.”

“And you said you were going to school. What courses are you taking?”

“African-American studies.” At least that was something she could talk about with some confidence.

“That was my major in college.”