This Man Isn't Black Novels & Stories

Groans filled the air as they began to disintegrate into soot, flowing along with the wind. “You’re welcome.” His deep voice reverberated as I walked towards him. All I could smell was his sinister scent as I closed the gap between us. He was more trouble than the others, his heartbeat faster than a car’s tires at the highest speed. He wasn’t human for sure. “Who are you?”

“That’s what I needed. Thanks.” The overcaffeinated man let out a low whistle, his eyes fixated on the picture of me and X fighting. “Is that a Man in Black? Getting his ass kicked? They’re indestructible! I’d hate to meet the guy who could open up a can of whoopass on a Man in Black like that.”

THE MAN IN YELLOW

Can’t men and women go to public places labelled as friends? “Hey, which one? Black or grey?” he asked while holding two shirts. “I have seen you in a lot of black shirts already. And black is not a good colour to wear under sunlight. I choose white,” I answered. “White is not even on the choices. Come on, pick.” His brows were furrowed. “Black,” I said. He returned the black just as I expected. “You said black is not a good colour under heat but you picked black,” he said while I follow him to the counter. “Because I know you’ll pick the grey one after hearing what I just said.

I tell her. One of the elderly man comes forward and pats my head. He's saying something in his local language which I don't understand at all and just smile at him. "He's saying that your one single photo would change their difficult life, Mrs. Blackwood." A man, dressed in a black suit with a bluetooth near his lips says to me. He resembles them so I guess he is from their community but he's modern. "How did I change their lives? I don't understand anything." I say in confusion.

He smiled, “Then by all means proceed.” She clicked play on the video. This time she tried to watch it detached. Like she was merely watching actors in a cheaply made film. She studied the details. The man in black was stocky, with almost black eyes. He spoke with no accent she could detect as he boasted about kidnapping one of the richest men in the city. He warned about what would happen if they didn’t play by his rules.

And especially not from - Then I saw him. I saw him and I couldn't figure out why I hadn’t seen him before... Leaning against the wall at the end of my row, was a man dressed all in black: the most gorgeous hunk I'd ever seen. Why he was leaning against the wall, and why he was wearing black denim in a room full of mock Armani? I never stopped to ask. He appeared to be listening to the lecture, though why I really don’t know. He looked less like a sales rep than I did.

He had blonde hair and eyes, whose color I couldn't see from so far away, a square chin and a sweet mouth. If he was a little bit more hairy and olive-skinned, he could have passed for a Latino. The door to the house was open so that meant that he was waiting for someone. Probably Mia. I sighed. How did she always manage to get such handsome men? And why was he dressed in all black with a small bag that looked like a briefcase at his feet? Another figure joined him and I paused. This man was much taller than my British baby and more muscular. Almost like a....hired hand.

Ruby said out loud from where she was. And the journalist turned to her. Ruby was struck by how handsome this man was. He was African-American, by the color of his skin, and his hair had been trimmed expertly in a stylish fade. He was dressed boyishly, too, with a blue jacket, matching jeans, and black boots. He was obviously a man in his early twenties, much younger than her by ten or eleven years, depending on how far away he was from Ruby's thirty-three years, but regardless, Ruby began to feel a knot in her stomach.

This man was obviously not an ordinary person. "Oh God... he's so handsome!”