Free Finding Love for a Cynic by Deneice Tarbox

one of the three doors and threw the square pillow at her roommate.  Cara dodged it and stuck her tongue out at her. Delona slammed the door and walked away, shaking her head and prompting Koen to laugh at their playful banter.  Cara truly was in rare form this morning. 
    “Don’t mind her.  She’s just mad because I accidently knocked over her favorite shampoo and didn’t realize it until the bottle was completely empty,” Delona explained, looking exasperated.
    “That stuff’s expensive, missy.” Cara’s muffled voice came from behind the closed door.
    “I said I’d buy you some more.  Jeez!”  She looked heavenward, placing her left hand over her heart and raising her right one in the air.  “I vow to never come between that woman and her overpriced shampoo again.”  Koen chuckled.  “So whatcha got for me this week, daddy-o?” she asked as she guided him the short distance to the couch.
    “I have a Mr…” He paused, scrolling through his calendar. “Tyron Hayes, who wants to take you to a Lakers game this Friday.  He’s thirty-two… the CEO of a popular frozen food company.”
    “Frozen food, huh?” she echoed.  She rested her chin on her fist and drew her arched brows together in deep thought.  A moment later, she shrugged.  “Hey, it’s a chance to go to a Lakers game, right?  I’d be nuts to pass that up.” 
    He was glad to see that she had gotten beyond the guilt of appearing to be superficial.  She deserved to get something out of these insufferable blind dates she had been forced into.  Even as a man, he was starting to see her point about the types of men women had to put up with.  So far, none of them had even come close to the men she had brought to life in her clever little mind. 
    He pushed away the fantasy he had recently started to have of becoming that man for her, replacing it with the memory of last week’s disaster.  He had been a little concerned when she smiled brightly at the sight of the tall, muscular African-American man.  But then the man had messed up big time.  Otis had taken her to the newest hotspot in town, a club he had just acquired.  He gave her the royal treatment, hanging out with her in the V.I.P. lounge and all.  Despite her dislike of clubs, Delona had been impressed.  That was, until his mother showed up.  Koen had barely managed to keep his amusement at bay when the artificially, beautified African-American queen started drilling Delona as though she were interviewing for a job instead of out on a date with her son.  Delona hadn’t been happy. 
    Koen, however, had been intrigued.  He had never in all his travels seen a blond black person, let alone one with blue eyes.  Well, maybe that basketball player, but who was counting?  The woman’s fake boobs were nice enough but nothing compared to Delona’s all-natural ones.  Despite finding humor at the price of Delona’s discomfort, he had managed to maintain a serious face throughout the ordeal.  But he had lost it when she’d turned to him, stretched her arms out, and, with her most sincere face in place, demanded that he shoot her. 
     “Would you like something to drink?” she asked him, bringing his attention back to the present.  She was giving him a bemused look, probably wondering where his mind had gotten off to.
    Before he could answer, they were interrupted by the beeping of his phone.  “Sorry.  I need to take this,” Koen said, moving to one of the bar stools at the breakfast counter.
    “No problem.  Take your time.”  Delona turned to her laptop, which sat on the coffee table in front of her.  Crossing her legs Indian style on the sofa, she placed it in her lap and started typing.    
    Koen answered the page.  Thanks to Delona’s faux pas and how they had handled it, he had become quite popular in the L.A. area and was currently taking on more clients.  He watched her the entire time he was on the phone, barely giving the woman he was