Basquiat.

chapter nine.

•••

Masika

"Are you aware of how absolutely stunning you are?"

I shifted in my chair and bit my lip out of nervousness, he could be so unintentionally sweet at times.

"You're too kind, Broderick. Thank you, really."

"No thank you, for just..." He paused.
"Being you. It's very rare to find a woman that doesn't try so hard to be something that they're not."

I blushed.

"I'm flattered, Broderick, you're entirely too sweet."

This was our third date together and we had really hit it off on the first. Broderick had began to really grow on me since our first encounter at the club.

"Hear me out?"

I nodded my head in compliance.

"What would you say to a weekend getaway in Stockholm? My treat."

I furrowed my eyebrows together.

"I barely know you that well, let alone enough to go on a trip that far away with you."
"You could be a psychotic serial killer for all I know," I said sheepishly.

He laughed loudly at the table until people began to stare. He took a sip from his Chardonnay then smiled at me abnoxiously, clearly amused by my reaction.

"You are quite the jokester, my dear. "Very well, no trip."

I sighed a breath of relief.

He paused and eyed me for a moment while swishing his Chardonay around in his cup.

"How about this, you choose the destination, I pay, and you bring anyone of your choice along."

"Broderick I couldn't acce-"

He shushed me.

"Please don't say anything else other than 'yes'."
He paused.
"I truly want to do this for you, Masika. You deserve it."

"You barely even know m-"

He cut me off once more, but this time he came across the table and kissed me with the utmost passion.

That was my first kiss.

He pecked my lips again twice before returning to his seat across from me.

"Please say you will," He said while gripping my thigh under the table.

"Um, sure, I will," I stuttered caught off guard by his roaming hand.

He smirked clearly satisfied with my reaction to his touch.

"Quit that," I said while pushing his hand away from me under the table.

He stopped.

"Tell me where and I'll have my assistant on it in a heart beat," he finally spoke.

"Africa."

"Africa? Really?" He said while raising an eyebrow.
"Why there?"

"It's where I'm from. The motherland, Nigeria. I have yet to visit my deceased mother's place of rest."

He looked at me intrigued by my response.
"Why didn't you go earlier?"

I looked down and fiddled with my fingers.

"My dad and I could never come up with the money for a plane ticket, he's not working due to his heart disease, so I'm the only source of income in the house."