Angel had stopped noticing the picture of the female poet long ago, as well as her poem “Phenomenal Woman,” the stanzas laid out in cursive. But she instantly understood what Gabriela was getting at. She’d read the lines hundreds of times, about a woman exuding strength and sensuality, and about how that confidence is what creates beauty, and power, and makes “the fellows stand or / fall down on their knees.”

She stood up straight. She controlled how people perceived her. How she perceived herself.

“That’s right,” Gabriela nodded. “You phenomenal. Be phenomenal. But I do have something else for you.” She went to a closet and returned with a white fur stole and a small jewelry box. “The wrap is from a client. When you walk in there, head high, you show them you the queen. You nobody’s bitch.”

Angel draped herself in the softness.

“But this…” Her friend opened the box. “This is from my grandmother.” Inside, nestled in velvet, was a thin gold-and-diamond bracelet. “This is so you keep it real, keep it classy.”

“Gabriela, are you sure?”

“Honey, with every bit of my heart I want you to wear this tonight. Just be careful with it.” She tapped Angel’s heart. “More importantly, be careful with this. Don’t let yourself get hurt, Angel.”

That is not going to happen. I know exactly who I am and who he is.

The bracelet glittered against the red of her dress and picked up the gold color on her nails, the golden glow on her skin, in her hair. “I feel so put together.”

“There’s a first for everything. What time is Duke supposed to get here?”

“In about ten minutes.” The butterflies in her stomach must have had babies. There was a lot of action in there.

Chapter Twelve

He stopped on the sidewalk and gaped at the gorgeous woman standing on the other side of the plate glass window. The young student nurse was definitely not wearing yoga pants. He watched Angel slide her fingertips across the red satin of her dress, along her side, and then gracefully move her hand through the air, gesturing to her friends, reminding Duke of a geisha. Sensual and confident. Damn, the girl is fine.

Angel’s plump lips broke into a smile, her eyes sparkling, laughing at something Gabriela said, and Duke felt his own face smile. In the form-fitting dress, her body bangin’, she was ready to walk out on stage somewhere, an exquisite woman who deserved to be surrounded by adoring fans. But I think she’d hate that. This one is something special, even if she does think I’m a moron, he thought, and he pushed open the door to the salon.

“Duke!” Jose shouted, and sprinted out of his corner, past Angel and the ladies.