This had been a point of contention between him and his job for the past few weeks. Every time he started getting used to the additional tasks he was taking on, Jordan’s managers threw something else at him. He was working accounts that they were supposed to be dealing with on top of the ever-growing queue of customers needing his help with tech support. Whenever he’d bring up the topic of a raise, they’d change the subject, and he was getting quite sick of being jerked around.
Sherleen sucked her teeth and shook her head. “That’s just like some corporate bitches to try and play you like that. Don’t let these white men punk you, Jordan, you hear me? Put your foot down and tell them no.”
He smiled bashfully. Grams’ vulgarity was one of his favorite defining traits about her. “Yes, ma’am.”
She reached over and gave his hand a light squeeze. As she opened her mouth to say something else, the oven timer dinged. Reaching for her cane, Sherleen crossed the room and slipped on an oven mitt.
“What’s that?” Jordan asked.
“Well,” she said, bending over to pull out a tray of muffins. “You remember that handsome man I told you about a few weeks ago? The one that volunteers every now and then?”
Jordan thought back to their conversation earlier. “The one that looks like he could be Terry Crews’ son?”
“That’s him. Powell Robertson. He’s been coming by and giving me new recipes to try out, and I’m starting to feel like Black Betty Crocker out here.”
Ever since he’d first started volunteering, Sherleen brought up Powell whenever she could. She waxed poetic about his rich brown skin and his perfect cheekbones and full lips. There were times Jordan wondered if this was just a bit of banter between them, or if she was considering going full-on cougar. There was also the possibility that she was trying to set him and Powell up. He wasn’t sure which option was worse.
Sherleen held up one of the muffins. “Try this.”
Jordan stepped into the kitchen and took the warm muffin Sherleen handed him. When he bit down, he was immediately hit with the cranberry flavor, and his eyes went wide. Before he knew it, he’d already eaten half of it. “Jesus,” he said.
Sherleen gave him a stern look, and he quickly apologized for taking His name in vain. “That’s not even the best recipe he’s given me, either. I think he’s trying to fatten me up so none of these other men want me except for him.” She waggled her brow suggestively.
“Oh, so Powell’s your boyfriend now, is he?”
“Not yet, but wait until I show him the secret recipe I’ve got for him.”
“Grams!”
The two of them quickly dissolved into a fit of laughter, Jordan shaking his head at just how explicit she was being. Clearly, she was on one. After they put away the muffins, Jordan helped her clean up some of the dishes. While he washed, she dried and stored them in the cabinets. They were a well-oiled machine.
It was times like these that reminded Jordan of just how good he had it. It might not have been much to others, but these little things, like singing Teena Marie songs with his grandmother and cleaning up around the house, reminded him that he knew how to have fun outside of historical fiction and family sagas, Tony and Carla be damned, he thought.
By the time they were finished, it was nearly eleven, and Jordan unfortunately had to go. “Do you mind if I take a few of these with me?” he asked, gesturing to a plastic bowl filled with muffins. Sherleen waved her hand lazily.
“Take all you want, baby. My blood sugar’s been pretty bad lately.”
An ice bath of panic ran down the back of Jordan’s neck. “Is everything alright?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she said with the same level of interest she’d given the muffins. “Nurse says I just need to watch what I eat. I say that old ugly bitch needs to mind her business.”
“Grams, be nice,” he warned. Jordan was relieved to hear that it was nothing serious. She was all he had left, and he didn’t care if he had to eat every last sweet in the place or have a long, hard chat with this Powell man, he wasn’t going to lose her too.
“You be nice,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You heading out?”
“Yeah, I have to get ready for my book club.”
“Oh yeah, Saturdays. How’s that going, by the way?”
He shrugged with one shoulder. “Fine. There’s this new guy…”
The mention of a man in Jordan’s life was the flame to Sherleen’s moth-like attention, and she turned to face him, an eager grin spreading across her face. Her brown eyes practically gleamed. “A man? What’s his name?”
It was still strange, having these conversations with Sherleen. All her life, she’d used derogatory names and harped on his parents for not putting him in more “masculine” activities like sports. She’d grown up in a different time with different views, and though that wasn’t an excuse, to her credit, she’d listened when he finally unloaded all of the internalized pain she’d caused him. It took years for her to not just wave off all her actions, but they were in a better place because of everything.
“I’d love to stay and chat, but…” Jordan tapped the watch he wasn’t wearing and made his way to the door.
“Boy, if you don’t get your narrow ass back—”
“Bye, Grams! Love you forever, I’ll call you later tonight!” He closed the door behind him and hurried back to his car before she could grab her cane and chase after him. Not only did he avoid being hit, but he also avoided having the conversation about who or what Rex was to him.
On paper, they were nothing.
They were members of the same club. They read the same books. They occasionally sent each other memes at three in the morning and then pretended they didn’t know each other after sunrise. It was nothing to write home about, and it was certainly not something Patricia Hayes or Jacquie Montgomery would ever find worthy of putting in their books.
Did his heartbeat suddenly skyrocket when Your New Favorite popped up on his screen? Maybe. Maybe mind your business, too.
Jordan knew not to expect much from this, deep down in his heart. He’d been around guys like Rex. They were fun for a while, but they never committed. Romantic nomads, bouncing from one guy’s DMs to the next. He was just having fun. That was all.
Seriously.
Jordan made it home with thirty minutes left to spare before Meet Cute Club started. It was prep time. He ran all over the house, same as he did every weekend, perfecting the place and making it as welcoming as he could. While he fluffed all the pillows and laid out the prettiest muffins on the table, he fought back the self-doubt nagging in the back of his mind.
He wasn’t sure how many more meetings they’d have, and the act of not knowing always made him uncomfortable. Jordan needed to be in control, at all times, and with their membership slowly dwindling with every passing month, things weren’t looking great.
Scolding himself, Jordan clenched his fists at his side. No. No more negativity. Even if he’d eventually have to put an end to all of this, he was going to enjoy the now. That’s what life was about. Not living every day with one foot in tomorrow. He wanted to stand firmly in the moment.
As usual, Lana was first, strolling in with dragon queen-tier bleach blonde hair. Jordan nearly choked when he saw her.