Queen of His Heart (3 page)

“JalilaG1000.” Excitement crept back into Keisha's voice. “My girl be spitting the truth about these men running around here in Cali.”

Keenan rolled his eyes.

“And stop rolling your eyes at me.”

“Then stop trying to sound like you're straight out of Oakland when you were born and raised in the suburbs.”

“Whatever.”

He chuckled as he clicked onto JalilaG1000's YouTube channel. The beautiful woman who popped up on his screen was definitely a stunning surprise. “Hey, I know her.”

“You do?” Keisha asked, surprised.

“Well, kind of.” He stared into those hypnotizing deep-brown eyes that were surrounded by a fan of long, curly lashes. Her flawless, oval chocolate face and full, plump and kissable lips caused something to stir within him.

“Keenan! Are you still there?” Keisha barked.

He blinked and successfully broke the strange spell he'd fallen under. “Uh, yeah. Who is she—some kind of actress?” Even as he asked the question, his eyes scanned the left column for her stats. There wasn't much there. Her name, of course, and age. She warned viewers that this was the space where she'd like to opine about life and love as a single woman in L.A.

“I don't think so. From time to time, she talks about owning some spa.”

Keenan stared at her picture again and couldn't stop the soft smile that crept across his lips. The camera loved her. He clicked the play button on her recent vlog.

“Ladies, where have all the good men gone?” she asked in a soft, honeyed voice.

Keenan's smile inched higher. He found this Jalila woman adorable in her pink, flannel pajamas with her black hair pulled back in a ponytail. “Did she just say some guy was
sniffing
her shoes?” he asked, certain he'd heard wrong.

Keisha cracked up. “Ain't that some crazy mess? Ha! You should watch some of her other videos. One time she was set up on a blind date with a guy who showed up with boobs. Boobs! Ha! He was taking hormones and was three months away from having a sex-change operation.”

“Say what?” His eyes remained locked on the beauty before him. He couldn't believe that someone as beautiful as she was would have problems in the men department.

“That's not all. Here was a guy wanting to become a woman, but not because he wanted to date men. He still wanted to date women—but as a lesbian. Ha!”

Keenan laughed as well. “And here I thought you were the only magnet for losers.”

“Now I'm about to hang up on you.”

On the screen, Jalila rolled over onto her belly and panned the camera around the bedroom. “I'm tired of
the other side of the bed being empty. I want to cook for more than one person. I even want to argue with someone to take the garbage out.” She turned the camera back on herself. “Ladies, I have to believe that my soul mate is out there. He just has to be.”

The footage stopped, freezing Jalila's solemn but angelic face on his computer. “Keisha, let me call you back.” He didn't wait for an answer and hit the end button on his cordless phone. He replayed the video.

“Ladies, I have to believe that my soul mate is out there. He just has to be.”

An idea began to form, and Keenan spent the rest of the night watching every video JalilaG1000 had uploaded to her channel. They weren't all about the trials of dating. Her best friend Martina, her father, James, and her beloved dog, Cujo, made frequent cameo appearances.

She openly shared her opinions about politics, books and movies. She was an intelligent woman who knew what she wanted—all that was missing was her Mr. Right, and Keenan was just the man to help her out.

R
odeo Drive had long been the premier shopping area for the Hollywood elite. It was one of the few places where old and new money mingled. Despite the shaky economy there were still plenty of Mercedeses and Bentleys lining the sidewalks. All along the pearly, pristine strip a fresh batch of starry-eyed actresses wandered, with their traveling posses and paparazzi.

Keenan pulled up to Body by Jalila shortly after eleven. He had called earlier and spoken with the receptionist and had been told that the best time to catch the owner was between the hours of eleven and three. Now that he was here, he wasn't quite sure just how to go about doing this. First of all, there was no reason in the world this Jalila would accept his offer this time
either, and second, he hadn't run his idea by Nitara. He was flying solo on this one.

Keenan killed the engine and hopped out of his cobalt-blue Bentley Continental GTC. A group of leggy women strolled toward him. Each lowered her shades and flashed him a flirtatious smile.

“Ladies,” he greeted them, tilting his head in a slight nod. After their smattering of giggles, Keenan smiled and slid on his Hugo Boss sunglasses. He loved this town.

The moment he entered the day spa he was instantly greeted by the welcoming scent of jasmine and orange blossoms. He smiled, drew in a deep breath and immediately relaxed. The place was much bigger than it looked from the outside. The décor of white and silver gave the place a modern chic feel, while the music pouring through the speakers was an odd combination of nature sounds and classical piano.

“Good morning.”

Keenan glanced toward the receptionist's desk and smiled at a beautiful, full-figured woman with a mammoth afro. He approached the desk and read her name tag. “Good morning, Tracee.”

“Welcome to Body by Jalila,” she chirped. “May I help you?”

Removing his shades, Keenan flashed his best smile. “Yes. I'm here to see Jalila Goodwyn.”

She frowned and glanced down at the calendar in front of her. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Uh, no. Not exactly,” he admitted, still trying to charm her with his smile.

Tracee smiled back. “Your name?”

He hesitated. It wasn't like Jalila was going to recognize the name unless she'd actually read his business card.

Tracee arched a pencil-thin brow at him. “Sir?”

“Uh, it's Keenan Armstrong,” he answered, taking a chance.

“And is this personal or business?” she queried.

“It's personal…no, it's business—make that personal.”

Tracee's expression turned dubious. “Well, which one is it?”

“Both.” He chuckled. “It's complicated.”

The receptionist looked him up and down, probably trying to decide whether to call her boss or 911.

“Look, I promise you. I'm on the up-and-up.”

Tracee picked up the phone. “Ms. Goodwyn, there is a gentleman here to see you.” Pause. “A Keenan Armstrong.” Pause. “He said it was both.”

Keenan smiled. He was getting closer to his goal. He thought about the beauty whose videos he'd spent all night watching and felt a little flutter in the pit of his stomach.

“Yes, ma'am. I'll tell him,” Tracee said and then hung up the phone.

“Ms. Goodwyn is in a meeting but she'll be right out in a few minutes.”

“Thank you.” He rewarded Tracee with another smile and then turned away from her. He faced a long display wall with neatly arranged lemon-colored bottles. He leaned in and read the labels on the different bottles of cleansers, lotions and moisturizers.

“Have you ever tried our products before?” Tracee asked, picking up on his interest.

“Uhm, no.” Before he knew it, Tracee had popped out of her seat and rushed around the desk.

“You know, there are plenty of men who use our products,” she said, opening the display cases.

“Really?”

“Oh, of course. It's just as important for men to take care of their skin as women.” She grabbed a bottle and took his hand. “Especially in this town,” she added cheekily as she squeezed out a dollop of cream onto the back of his hand and began rubbing it in. “Feel how light that is?”

“Uh, yes.” He cleared his throat. “That's very nice.”

“That's because we use all-natural ingredients. And this particular formula cleans and moisturizes at the same time.”

“I guess that would be…beneficial,” he said, trying to add to the conversation.

Tracee bobbed her head. “Mind if I ask what products you use to clean your face?”

Keenan blinked. It was the first time he'd found himself discussing his “beauty regime.” “Soap and water.”

Tracee's sunny disposition collapsed. “Oh, my God. Do you know how harsh soap is to your skin?”

If he hadn't been there to see it with his own eyes, he would never have believed that this woman actually pulled out a large magnifying glass from her white jacket and began inspecting his face. Keenan held his
breath and stood perfectly still while she carried on with her inspection.

“You know what you need?” she asked. The magnifying glass made her look like a huge Cyclops.

“What's that?”

“A deep exfoliating seaweed facial mask.”

“An ex-what?”

“Exfoliating mask. Knock off all that dead skin.”

Dead skin. What on earth is she talking about?
He glanced toward a mirror. No one had ever told him that there was something wrong with his skin.

“C'mon.” She grabbed his hand again. “I'm gonna hook you up.” She marched back to her desk and picked up the phone.

“Wait. What about Ms. Goodwyn?”

“Don't worry. When she's done with her meeting, I'll bring her over to your chair. Right now, you need an emergency intervention.”

Keenan touched his face.
Is it that bad?
“But—but—”

“Trust me. You'll thank me later.”

 

“I knew it!” Martina howled. “I told you that his big butt was a freak, didn't I? Ha!” An even five feet tall plus-size woman with a penchant for wearing her clothes a few sizes too small, Martina was larger than life. Her boisterous voice and her constantly changing hair color (this week a frosted honey blond) made sure that everyone within a three-mile radius knew whenever she was near.

“All right. All right,” Jalila conceded. She struggled to prevent a smile from easing onto her face.

“
Never
pick up men at a gas station.” Martina slapped her hand down on Jalila's desk and continued to laugh her butt off.

“Hey, he picked me up,” Jalila stressed. “I was just giving a brother a chance. Men are always claiming that sistahs are just too picky.”

“The men that say that ain't about nothing.” Martina's hands settled on her hips as her neck swiveled around. “They want the total package in a woman while they roam the streets looking like whodunit and what for.”

Jalila conceded the point.

“Ain't nothing wrong with being picky, girl. The last thing you want to do is end up spending the rest of your life with the wrong man. Settling is for losers.”

“Yeah, I hear you.” Jalila folded her arms and leaned back in her chair.

Martina snapped her fingers. “I know what we need to do.”

“What's that?”

“Go on vacation.”

Jalila finally laughed. “Girl, there is too much work around here.”

“You always say that.”

“That's because it's always true. Maybe next year.”

Martina clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes. “I'm telling you, you need to go away so you can get your groove back.”

“Please. You know what happened to the last sistah that did that. She got played.”

“True. True. But what about—”

“You know, Martina. I just need to take a break right now.”

“A break? Girl, you haven't had sex in two years. If you break any longer you're going to forget what to do with a good stiff dick.”

“Martina!”

“What? I'm just keeping it real. Don't you miss it?”

“Hell, yeah, I miss it. Damn, I was just minutes away from jumping that shoe-sniffing freak the other night. But there's got to be a better way of going about doing this.” Jalila turned in her chair and stared out of her office window. “Finding love shouldn't be this difficult.”

“Says who?”

Jalila didn't have an answer. She just knew that she was tired of club-hopping, online dating and speed dating. After a long silence she stood up from her desk and said, “I'd better get back out on the floor. There's somebody out there waiting to see me.”

Martina took pity on her solemn expression. “Chin up, girl. We're going to find you a husband one day.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

 

Keenan struggled to move his face. It felt like a block of concrete had cemented everything in place.
Is this normal?
He reached up from beneath his smock to try to touch his face but his hand was quickly smacked away.

“No. Don't touch,” his clinician, Fantasia, warned. “You just have a couple more minutes and then we will wash it off.”

Wash it off or chisel it off?

Reclining in a large leather chair, Keenan tilted his head toward the mirror on the wall to get a good look at himself. The mint-colored goo made him look like something out of one of his favorite old horror movies. Thank God that nobody he knew could see him right now.

“If you could just close your eyes, I can put these chilled cucumbers in place.”

Cucumbers?

“Now these little babies are just going to do wonders for the tiny lines under your eyes.”

Lines? I don't have any lines under my eyes.

Instead of arguing, he allowed Fantasia to place the cold vegetable slices on his eyes. He sighed. It did kinda feel pretty good.

“So. What is it that you do?” Fantasia asked.

Keenan licked his lips and tried to talk, but it was difficult given that he could hardly move his face. “I'm a television producer.”

“Come again?”

“Television producer,” he tried again, this time kicking up the volume.

“Oooh. Reeeally?” Fantasia's voice spiked with interest. “You know I used to do a little acting.”

Keenan was grateful that cucumber masked his eye-rolling at the standard response people gave him.

“My high-school theater teacher used to tell me that I was a natural,” she added.

“Is that right?” How much longer did he have to sit like this?

“I can even cry on demand.” Keenan bobbed his head, though his patience was starting to thin.

The soft clicking of high heels caught his attention. When it was clear that they were heading his way, his heart sped up in anticipation. He started to reach up and remove the cucumber slices, but stopped, fearing another smack on the hand.

“Mr. Armstrong?”

Recognizing Jalila's lyrical voice, Keenan tried to smile. He sat up in the chair and risked the abuse of Fantasia by removing the cucumbers.

Jalila smiled and offered her hand. “Hello.”

Keenan had thought he was prepared for Jalila's beauty, but he quickly found out that he was dead wrong. Her glowing skin and plump lips had him salivating. However, it was her eyes, dark and vibrant, that pulled and tried to hypnotize him. Finally, he realized that she was waiting for him to speak. “Hello, Ms. Goodwyn. Nice to meet you…again.” Of course, his words didn't quite sound right, but she took mercy and smiled at him.

“Have we met?”

“Oh, yeah. I, uh wanted to talk to about…uh, a personal proposition.”

“I'm not quite sure that I know what that means,” she said.

Keenan suddenly felt frantic to scrape the cement off his face.

She laughed. “Here. Let me help you.” She moved up behind him and swirled his chair back to face the wall mirror. “Just lean back. I'll finish you up.”

He followed her instructions and was rewarded when he caught her soft scent—Chanel No. 5.

“Oh, I can do that for you, Ms. Goodwyn,” Fantasia offered.

“That's all right. I got him. Can you bring over some steamed towels?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Jalila returned her attention to Keenan. He felt that strange beating sensation in his heart again.

“Sooo. You have some personal-slash-business proposition you want to discuss with me?”