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our products before?” Tracee asked, picking up on his interest.
    â€œUhm, no.” Before he knew it, Tracee had popped out of her seat and rushed around the desk.
    â€œYou know, there are plenty of men who use our products,” she said, opening the display cases.
    â€œReally?”
    â€œOh, 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?”
    â€œUh, yes.” He cleared his throat. “That’s very nice.”
    â€œThat’s because we use all-natural ingredients. And this particular formula cleans and moisturizes at the same time.”
    â€œI 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 hisbreath and stood perfectly still while she carried on with her inspection.
    â€œYou know what you need?” she asked. The magnifying glass made her look like a huge Cyclops.
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œA deep exfoliating seaweed facial mask.”
    â€œAn ex-what?”
    â€œExfoliating 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.
    â€œC’mon.” She grabbed his hand again. “I’m gonna hook you up.” She marched back to her desk and picked up the phone.
    â€œWait. What about Ms. Goodwyn?”
    â€œDon’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—”
    â€œTrust me. You’ll thank me later.”
    Â 
    â€œI 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.
    â€œAll right. All right,” Jalila conceded. She struggled to prevent a smile from easing onto her face.
    â€œ Never pick up men at a gas station.” Martina slapped her hand down on Jalila’s desk and continued to laugh her butt off.
    â€œHey, he picked me up,” Jalila stressed. “I was just giving a brother a chance. Men are always claiming that sistahs are just too picky.”
    â€œThe 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.
    â€œAin’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.”
    â€œYeah, I hear you.” Jalila folded her arms and leaned back in her chair.
    Martina snapped her fingers. “I know what we need to do.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œGo on vacation.”
    Jalila finally laughed. “Girl, there is too