by Imani King
Our dreams were coming true, slowly but surely, just like my daddy told me they would. He never had much money, only his Veteran’s benefits, but he had always supported us in every way he could. He even gave me most of my mama’s life insurance money when she passed. I didn’t want to take it, but he wouldn’t hear of it any other way. He wanted to see his daughter’s hopes and dreams materialize, and he was proud that he could help me put them within reach. I loved him more than anybody in the whole world.
Most weeks, we baked our little hearts out without even one day off. It was a lucky thing Tiff and I both shared the same tough work ethic. We were already very close to being able to buy a new, state-of-the-art baking oven. It was also fortunate that there was a perpetual southern California ocean breeze that blew through our little abode and kept it cool despite the continuous oven heat. For 8 to 10 hours a day, we were busy producing every type of French chocolate dessert imaginable: Chocolate almond cakes, chocolate macaroons, chocolate croissants, chocolate mousse, chocolate soufflés, and even chocolate candy which included truffles, ganaches and pralines. Our ingredients were pure and our prices weren’t cheap. We knew we had an excellent product and we were proud to put our names on it.
Since it was a Saturday night, Tiff and I decided to knock off a little early and send out for some Chinese food. There was so many great restaurants in the area. And such diversity too; Moroccan, Peruvian, Thai, Greek. It was all within a walking distance of our house. And you couldn’t beat the local seafood! We shared a bottle of Pinot Grigio and kicked back on the front porch while we waited for the delivery boy to pedal over on his bike with our order.
“This is pretty nice, ya gotta admit. I thought I’d miss France more than I actually do. How ‘bout you Chels?”
“We’ve been so busy, I haven’t had a chance to miss it. But I do feel a twinge in my heart when I think about the great time we had there. It was almost perfect. If it wasn’t for you know who, it would have been absolutely perfect.”
“That fuckin’ jerk-wad Luc! Did I ever tell you how much I wanted to cut his little dick off, Chelsea?”
“Yes, Tiff…….many, many, MANY, times, in fact. You’re a true friend. And if I ever need a professional castrator, I will certainly call you first.”
“Did you tell that little prick-face that you were moving back to California? When was the last time you talked to him?”
“It’s been months since we’ve spoken. I didn’t tell him I was leaving France. There was no point. I literally never want to see that scumbag again. The humiliation of learning that he was married the entire time we were dating and I didn’t even know it; it kills me to think about it! The fact that I was the other woman in his marriage; I’m still sickened by it! And worse yet, his wife didn’t even leave him when she found out about me!”
I swilled down my remaining wine in one gulp and poured myself another. Luc might have left Tiffany with a bad taste in her mouth, my brief experience with that arrogant French writer Blaize hadn’t left me feeling much better.
“Wow, I shouldn’t have gotten you started on this subject. I’m sorry Tiff. Here, pour me another glass too, will ya?”
Chang Woo’s delivery boy pedaled up just as Tiffany and I finished hugging and toasting to our new life. We marveled at how he could carry so many bags of take-out cartons on his handlebars without toppling over. I ran inside to grab my purse so I could pay him and decided to bring him out a chocolate chip crème puff for the road. He thanked me as he made change for my thirty dollars. His eyes suddenly widened with joy as he took a bite. “Holy shit that was fantastic! You say you make those yourselves? I’ll spread the word… Have a great evening ladies!” He waved back at us as he pedaled down the sidewalk.
“Oh shit! We should have given him some of our business cards. We gotta remember to do that next time we see him. He’s cool. I like that dude! Do you wanna eat out back on the patio, Chels?”
“Definitely. I think the house is still a little warm, don’t you? The night air feels great. Are you as tired as I am?”
“Are you kidding? I’m exhausted. I’m thinking we should hit the hay early tonight. We have those huge orders to make tomorrow for the big wig’s meeting in Santa Monica on Monday, and then we have to get ready for that rich lady’s baby shower. I think this could really be it! You never know what new doors will open for us. There’s a lot of people with power and money around here.”
5
Blaize
Hopping happily out of bed, I strutted into the bathroom, stopping briefly to admire my naked reflection in the mirror. Whistling a chirpy little tune, I headed into the steaming shower. I had an almost overwhelming feeling of empowerment and immortality… It was as if I had cheated death itself.
The immigration fiasco at the airport could have easily spelled disaster for me, but as usual, I came out of it smelling like a rose. Sure, I had a couple of unorthodox legal concessions to make but I wasn’t worried. I was confident that everything would work out just fine. That is what I paid people to do. They make things work out. Greasing the right wheels didn’t come cheap, but it was a necessity. Of course, I didn’t come cheap either. Which was why Rolande and I were excited about our afternoon meeting. Several details of the scriptwriting movie deal still needed to be negotiated, but my salary was not one of them.
The luxury yacht I had rented was docked at Marina Del Rey. It was the perfect coastal retreat and walking distance to both Santa Monica and Venice Beach. I fully intended to keep my nose clean during my stay and that meant avoiding any and all temptation to drink and drive. The day’s meeting was an easy stroll from the boat. I went up on deck to find Rolande basking in the sunshine with his feet up, and coffee, juice and pastries for two on the table. What an agent!
I took a sip of the coffee and savored it for a few seconds. “Oh yeah, that’s excellent. Don’t you just love American coffee? Why do you suppose the coffee in France is so awful when the rest of our food and drink is so superior? It makes absolutely no sense.”
Rolande was in complete agreement.
We both reached for a croissant at the same time. He took an almond one and I took the chocolate. Biting into them simultaneously, we both choked and spit them back out. I couldn’t help but shudder. “Ugh! Fuck! That’s horrible! They’ve got a lot of nerve trying to pass those off as anything but pure shit!” Rolande dumped the remaining “treats” over the side of the boat. I teasingly reminded him that dumping hazardous waste into coastal waters was a criminal offense. Even the fish below seemed to be avoiding the floating lumps.
“While I’m thinking about it, make a note to yourself Rolande. Check into getting me a decent chef to cook for us while we’re staying in the marina. We’re not going to be able to exist on breakfasts like the one we just had.”
“Good point! I’m sure I can get some recommendations.”
We relaxed on the boat for the rest of the morning and reviewed some of the established points of the contract. Rolande felt it would be wise to go over the agreement one more time before the meeting. I hated all that legal jargon but I had to admit it was a good idea.
We headed over to the noontime meeting at the high-rise Santa Monica office. I loved catered lunch meetings. Movie studios usually spared no expense when they were trying to woo someone. And I adored being wooed……….
The meeting ended up taking longer than Rolande and I expected, but overall, it was a success. There were about a dozen people present: Actors, agents, the director, the producer, etc.; all the principle players. The studio had already adapted the first book in my vampire trilogy, Midnight Hunter: Crimson Feast, into a movie. But I didn’t write the script on that one. It was a hit, but not the mega-hit that my book was. Eventually, some genius recognized the disconnect and approached me to write the script for the sequel, Midnight Hunter: Bloody Banquet. Rolande and I were more than happy to sign on to that project, for the right price. The meeting went smoothly and everyone seemed genuinely pleased w
ith the final deal.
The lunch had been superb! It was catered by the owners of an authentic Spanish restaurant on nearby Ocean Blvd. I had never eaten better ceviche, despite my frequent holidays in Spain. As the staff cleared the dishes from the huge round meeting table, the chatter continued about how amazing the food and sangria was. I excused myself to the restroom so I could make room, so to speak, for the dessert that was scheduled to follow. Upon my return, I received the best surprise of my life. My breath actually caught in my lungs and I froze like an ice statue.
At first, I almost couldn’t believe my own eyes.
It was the ravishing beauty from my party. The woman who haunted my very dreams.
She was wheeling a dessert cart into the room that was loaded down with the most magnificent array of French pastries I had ever laid eyes upon outside of my own country.
She was absolutely enchanting to watch in action; the way she pleasantly smiled and interacted with each person as they made their selections and then the elegant manner in which she lifted each delicacy off the tray with her silver serving tongs and placed it on their plate. I was hypnotized by the gentle rhythmic swaying of her sensuous hips and full breasts as she made her way around the table. The men were certainly giving her a warm welcoming reception; many of them in their pants. They could barely keep their tongues from lolling out onto the ground.
Perhaps I was doing just as poor of a job maintaining my composure.
I slipped back into my empty chair as inconspicuously as I could, waiting for this vision of heaven to make her way over to me. When it was my turn, she automatically flashed her sexy smile at me, but then noticeably hesitated before speaking.
“And what………would you like……sir?”
Her expression suddenly went cold upon the realization of who I was: The Frenchman with the dick hanging out of his fly.
“Well, obviously I would like your name, address and phone number……..” I said, smiling up at her. The people within earshot of me shifted uncomfortably in their chairs and I could see that she was clearly embarrassed. I decided to backpedal a bit, in an effort to rectify the situation.
“I mean, I would like one of your business cards, of course. I am planning several parties during my stay, and I will certainly be in need of services such as yours… I would also like one of your chocolate croissants and perhaps one of those tasty-looking pecan brownies?”
She politely handed me a card but her face revealed her true mistrust as she said, “With pleasure, Mr. Simon.” Unfortunately, the idea of this lovely vision serving me with pleasure only served to stir my cock into action. The obvious rise in the crotch of my pants quickly caught her eye. I could tell by the way she quickly tossed my desserts on my plate, smiled politely while trying not to make eye-or-crotch contact, and scurried away. Fuck! Sometimes I wished I could obedience train my dick! Down! Sit! Stay! Good boy!
Everyone in the room was raving about the pastries. Mine were so sublime, I greedily snatched another brownie from the large platter she left in the center of the table. She had obviously been well-trained during her stay in France. I overheard her telling Rolande that her name was Chelsea and she and her partner actually made everything from their little house in Venice Beach. I read the little embossed card she had handed me: It was simple but classic:
French Chocolate: A Sweet Adventure
Chelsea Dixon & Tiffany Simpson, Proprietors
Venice, California
310-444-6969
The more I learned about Chelsea Dixon, the more I simply had to have her. If she was that talented in the kitchen, I could only imagine the magic she could weave in the bedroom. While our happy little group was finishing up their coffee and enjoying the last of the insanely delicious desserts, I was plotting a way to discretely get her alone as soon as possible. My chance arrived when I saw her head back to the workroom for more business cards. I seized my opportunity and followed her around the corner.
6
Chelsea
If ever there was a moment when I needed Tiffany, it was now. My head was spinning from that frustrating man in the other room. Of course, Tiff wore rose-colored glasses as far as Blaize Simon was concerned, she might not have been the best person to talk to. I could easily picture her fawning all over him if she were here. Yep, I suspected her opinion might have been quite a bit skewed in his favor.
Unfortunately, she was working the baby shower while I was at this meeting. I knew she would positively freak when she learned that she missed her chance to meet Blaize Simon again. What were the odds of that? Poor thing.
I was completely flustered to the point that I couldn’t concentrate. Where did I put those damn business cards? I always carried a box of extras and I was sure I brought them with me. Just then, his voice startled me from behind and I instinctively jumped. When I turned around, he was suddenly close enough for me to get an intoxicating whiff of his aftershave. It was totally unnerving.
“Chelsea Dixon…….. at last, I know your name. Do you realize I’ve been thinking about you for two months? Ever since you tried to have your way with me in my kitchen…..”
“Mr. Simon, c’mon now. Get real! You don’t even know me, and the only thing I did in that kitchen was tell you to zip your fly.”
“I may not know you, but I can already tell a lot about you.”
“Really? I seriously doubt that. But I can already tell you are conceited, arrogant and ill-mannered.”
“I love your spunk! Well, it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that you are off-the-charts beautiful… And as a successful business woman, you must also be hard-working, ambitious, and wonderfully smart. One bite of your delicious product and it’s evident you are extremely talented… And I know from personal experience that you are extremely feisty. The verbal spanking you gave me at my party was the highlight of my evening. You know, you left quite an impressive mark with that stinging tongue-lashing.”
His words left me speechless. I never met anybody who spoke that brashly. He was obviously skilled at sizing people up and even more adept at flattery. Your typical player. But he did have a way about him that made me sweat a little more than I cared to admit.
Now that I was face to face with him, I could see what Tiffany was talking about. To call Blaize handsome would be the understatement of the year. It was hard not to be captivated by his gorgeous chiseled face trimmed with its rugged 5 o’clock shadow. His thick wavy black hair was boyish and slightly tousled, like he just finished up in the sack with someone… And those dark bedroom eyes……..oh lord help me!
But he was also very full of himself! I had a feeling he was used to getting his way his entire life. He was probably related to French royalty. He had all the characteristics of someone born with a silver spoon in their mouth. But what a lovely mouth it was..……..with those sensuous full lips. Why did so many idiotic words have to come out of it?
“Well, that’s all very flattering, Mr. Simon, but did you really follow me back here just to tell me how great you think I am?”
“First of all, please stop calling me Mr. Simon. It’s Blaize. Secondly, I really did follow you back here to tell you how great you are. And third, I think my biggest reason to talk with you was pretty obvious back there in the conference room. As a matter of fact, I saw you looking right at it.”
Oh my God, this man had all the nerve in the world! I honestly didn’t know whether I should feel insulted by his lack of manners and boundaries or just laugh at his lack of emotional maturity. Either way, I was running out of patience.
“I’m having a hard time taking you seriously, and I’m very busy. It’s been a pleasure meeting you Mr. Simon, but I really do need to wrap things up here now. Will there be anything else?”
“Please, call me Blaize. And yes, there is something else actually. Are you able to meet me for coffee in about an hour? I have a proposition for you.”
“A proposition! I can only imagine what kind of proposition you’re talking about. Th
anks but no thanks!”
“Now, now. Control your dirty mind pretty lady. I’m not proposing anything the least bit naughty. For now, I have a business deal in mind that I’d like you to consider. But I really should discuss it with my agent, Rolande, first. You know, that little bald guy you were chatting with earlier. I just want to run my idea past him out of consideration………to make him feel like he actually has some say in the matter.”
“Rolande Girard is your agent? I’m surprised.”
“And why is that, Ms. Dixon?”
“When he introduced himself to me, he seemed like a perfectly normal gentleman.”
“Rolande? I can assure you he’s not the least bit normal!”
“You’re not exactly selling me on this business deal. You do know that don’t you?”
“Would it help if I reminded you that I have a rather large sum of money that comes along with this business engagement?”
“It might,” I replied.
“In that case, take a risk. Meet me in an hour. How about at that little coffee place around the corner? The one with all the funny lopsided tables and crooked chairs?”
“Shaky Grounds?”
“Yeah! That’s the one!” he replied, grinning eagerly.
“Okay, I guess I can do that… But this had better be all business Mr. Simon, or I’m walking right back out. Make it 90-minutes. I need to drop off this stuff at home first.”
“Great! 90-minutes it is. I’ll see you there! Since this is strictly business, do you prefer my fly open or closed?”