Love in Play

by Zuri Day

  “Dominique. Jake. Your gratitude is premature because not only do I not understand your cancelling our dinner plans, but I don’t accept it either. You want to protect Justin and I respect that. But to accept my invitation knowing full well that you never intended to honor your word? That’s just foul.”

  Dominique sat back in her chair. She wanted to be angry, but a part of her agreed with Jake. She never should have accepted the invitation in the first place and wouldn’t have, had lust not clouded her thinking for a moment. She thought about calling him back and apologizing again, but what good would that do? Probably more harm than good, since hearing his voice seemed to always bring on flutters and squiggles and cause her kitty to go all meow meow and shit. He was obviously too through with her. And isn’t that what she wanted? Dominique hit speed dial. Within seconds, the voice that could give her joy no matter the circumstances spilled into her ear.

  “Mommy!”

  “Hey, baby. What are y’all doing?”

  “Watching movies. And Grandma’s here, too.”

  “Mama’s at Faith’s house?”

  “Uh-huh,” Justin said. “And she brought snacks with her, just like at the movies.”

  “Snacks, huh? What kind?”

  “Skittles, hot dogs, nachos, everything!”

  Hm, wonder what Mr. Organic would think about that? Dominique chose not to dampen Justin’s joy by pointing out how quickly he’d forgotten his coach’s admonishment about junk food.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, baby. Put Mama on the phone.”

  “Grandma, Mom wants to talk to you.”

  “Hey, baby.” Her mother’s voice was as soothing as Justin’s, and Dominique hadn’t missed that the same term of endearment she’d used with her twelve-year-old still applied when one was thirty-plus.

  “Hey, Mama.”

  “You sound tired, Dominique.”

  “A little bit; I just left work.”

  “On a Sunday, Dominique?”

  Dominique told Anita about the photo shoot.

  “Baby, I know your career means a lot to you but you’re working too hard. You need balance in your life.”

  Jake’s words from the previous night rushed into her mind. In fact, Dominique surmised, he’d been taking up way too much of her brain space. Still, her mom’s words echoed what he’d said. Where’s the balance? You’re focused on your job and on Justin. Who’s focused on you?

  “Don’t worry about me, Mama. I’m finished here, and looking forward to a long, hot”... Ball Park frank... “soak in the tub when I get home.”

  “I do worry about you, baby. There hasn’t been anyone meaningful for me since your dad left. I don’t want my story to be your life.”

  “It won’t, Mama.”

  “Are you sure? Because I haven’t heard you mention a man in quite some time. I want you to be happy, baby.”

  “I am happy.”

  “Then I want you to be delirious with the kind of joy that can only come from having someone you love and who loves you back in your life.”

  “I have that,” Dominique stubbornly continued. “His name is Justin.”

  “You know what I mean,” Anita huffed. “And you’d better hear what I’m saying.”

  They talked a bit more, made plans for Dominique to join them for next Sunday’s dinner, and then Anita told her she was leaving so that she could get home before it got too late.

  Dominique picked up her briefcase, headed to the building parking lot, and pondered what both her mother and Jake had said about balance, being grown and doing what grown folk do.

  There’d been one man after Kevin and the theft fiasco—Charles, the “tune-up” man. Dominique had met him one evening while at a restaurant, dining alone at the bar. He was an excellent dresser. That’s the first thing Dominique had noticed about him. He was also a businessman from Miami who travelled to Los Angeles two to three times a month. He’d approached her seeking companionship when he was in town and she’d agreed. Their dinner, movie, and concert dates quickly turned into him fine-tuning her feminine flower during his brief stays. He even occasionally accompanied her to magazine events.

  Charles never met Justin, and Dominique never met any of his family. According to him, he was a lifelong bachelor with no interest in marriage or kids. And even with all that they had in common—successful careers, love for fashion and the arts, and a penchant for fine dining—his declaration suited Dominique just fine. Or so she’d told herself. She had labeled the arrangement perfect: private and unobtrusive. Then one day about a year ago she’d received a phone call. It was Charles, calling off their relationship. His reasons had been vague but one day the truth smacked her in the face, courtesy of Google. On a whim, she’d put his name in the search engine and got back a wedding announcement for her troubles. The Miami Herald article in the society section came complete with wedding photo: him and a twenty-something socialite, the daughter of prominent doctors. Dominique Clark convinced herself that she didn’t care and, in classic Clark (Kent) fashion, had gone into the phone booth otherwise known as the Capricious office and made Superwoman her middle name. Always a hard, focused worker, she’d become even more so: accepted a board position of a local charity and agreed to be the consultant for a nonprofit organization’s online magazine. From morning to night her hours had been filled but her bed—from then to now—remained empty.

  Dominique reached her home but sat in the driveway with the car idling. She wasn’t ready to go into her big, empty house and even emptier bed. So she headed toward her favorite spot back up on the boulevard. It wasn’t quite Cheers, but she ate there often and everyone at this cozy Italian establishment knew her name.

  Frankie greeted her at the bar and poured her favorite Chianti without her asking. She requested a menu and after ordering an appetizer settled into the comfy bar chair to shoot the breeze and dish the dirt with the guy who seemed to know everything that went on from one end of Ventura to the other. Within minutes she’d finished half her Chianti and ordered another, threatening to max out her two-drink limit before her food arrived. The wine, cozy setting, and friendly camaraderie between her and Frankie had Dominique more relaxed than she’d been all day. So she was totally unprepared for how her body froze up seconds later when a heavy hand squeezed her shoulder and a flutter-causing voice whispered in her ear.

  “Well, well,” Jake murmured, his breath like a hot melody on her ear lobe, sending a chorus of fire throughout her body. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  10

  Dominique let out a shaky breath as Jake came from behind her to slide on to the next bar seat. “Jake.”

  He didn’t respond but instead waved over Frankie and ordered a beer. He looked at her, his expression unreadable. Was it anger? Disgust? Disappointment? Hurt? Dominique couldn’t tell, so she took another sip of wine and waited for the lambasting she felt was sure to come.

  Jake eyed her again before taking a long swig of his brew. He placed the glass on the table, ran a strong, thick thumb over the condensation formed outside it and then leaned back in the chair. Eyes boring into Dominique’s, his voice was deceptively soft, his question simple. “Why?”

  Dominique lowered her eyes, grateful to the waiter who chose this moment to deliver her clams and mussels sautéed in a creamy tomato broth. The aroma wafted up to her nostrils but Dominique’s appetite had fled along with all the excuses she’d used to cancel the date. Now, with Jake’s sincere, questioning eyes boring into her, she was asking herself the same thing. Why did she cancel her date with this handsome, intelligent, interested man? “I don’t know,” she finally murmured, feeling nothing like the bold, confident woman who oversaw a multimillion dollar publication. Now she felt like the teenager and young adult she used to be—insecure, unsure, and vulnerable. She pushed memories of that woman to the background, determined to express exactly how she felt. At the very least, he deserved her honesty.

  “Jake, I can’t be clearer than I’ve already
been. My attraction for you is undeniable but when it comes to establishing a relationship this isn’t a good time for me. That’s the beginning and the end of this story because I’ve never been good at casual romps in the hay.”

  Jake nodded thoughtfully. “Your food’s getting cold.”

  Dominique had forgotten all about eating. Mentioning romps in the hay had immediately conjured up an image, making her hungry for a different kind of meal altogether.

  Jake reached over, plucked a clam from Dominique’s bowl and sucked it from the shell into his mouth. She watched in rapt fascination, the intimate act of his eating from her bowl escalating the sexual tension. He chewed the tender morsel and licked his lips. “Tastes good; you should try it.”

  Thankful for the distraction, Dominique picked up the soup spoon and sipped the tomato broth. With the first taste of it, infused with garlic, lemongrass, and thyme, her appetite was reawakened and she sampled more of the dish.

  At this same moment, the waiter reappeared. “Can I get you anything, sir?”

  “Yes,” Jake replied. “A table.” Dominique looked up as Jake confidently continued. “Corner booth if you have it. We’d like privacy.”

  Dominique didn’t comment or resist, but rather silently followed the waiter to a small booth at the back of the room. The red candle flickering against the stark white linen created a romantic ambiance. Jake stood back to let Dominique slide into the booth and when she sat at the end, expecting him to sit opposite her, he shook his head. “Move over, I want to sit beside you.”

  Usually, Dominique was the one giving orders yet, without a word, she acquiesced to his demand. The waiter brought over the appetizer he’d reheated, along with Jake’s calamari order. He then took orders for their entrées and left. Jake dug into the fried squid with gusto and for a couple moments, the two enjoyed the food and a companionable silence.

  After both had demolished half their dishes, Jake wiped his mouth and sat back, his thoughtful eyes cast once again on Dominique. “What happened that has you so guarded when it comes to relationships?”

  Dominique finished her bite, dotted her mouth with the linen napkin, and turned to answer him. “My last relationship ended badly,” she began, deciding for once to let down her privacy barrier. For some reason she felt she could trust Jake with her truth, and she didn’t exactly know how she felt about that. “He betrayed me, and I’ll admit that it eroded my trust in men.”

  “He cheated on you?”

  “Worse. He stole from me.” At Jake’s questioning look, she continued. “We lived together and had a joint checking account. Because of my demanding work schedule I was more than happy to let him take over the personal affairs. That’s why it was a couple months before I knew what was happening, that he was regularly withdrawing money from my savings.”

  “But you just said joint checking account.”

  “I’d set this account up years before and when adding his name had never thought twice about the accounts being linked. It was a stupid and expensive oversight. But I was the only one who overlooked it. Kevin saw it, and took full advantage.”

  Jake placed a hand on Dominique’s shoulder. “I’m sorry he did that to you.”

  “Yes, well, so am I.” Dominique could have moaned aloud, so good was the light massage from these sure, strong fingers.

  “Every man isn’t like that, Dominique.”

  “I know, but that’s only part of it.”

  “And Justin is the other part?”

  “Yes.”

  Their entrees arrived, and for awhile the two ate in silence. “What about you?” Dominique asked, after she’d enjoyed a forkful of fettucini. “Why aren’t you married or in a relationship?”

  Jake finished his bite of grilled salmon and took a swig from his refreshed brew before answering. “I was married,” he said, sitting back and seeing his past instead of the dark maple walls surrounding them. “My wife died. Over four years ago.”

  “I’m so sorry.” When Jake remained silent, Dominique probed. “Was it an accident? If you’d rather not talk about it...”

  “The first year after she died, it was about all I talked about.” His voice was steeped in reflection. “She was only thirty-two years old. It seemed so unfair.”

  “What happened?” Dominique’s voice was soft, nurturing, as she unconsciously placed a hand on his leg.

  “Brain aneurysm from out of the blue. She woke up one morning complaining of a headache. At the time, I was head coach at a high school not far from our home near Oakland. I wanted to stay home with her, but she insisted that it was nothing, that she’d take a couple aspirin and call me as soon as she felt better. I never got the call.”

  “That had to feel terrible.”

  “It did. Of course, I blamed myself—”

  “But surely you know that it wasn’t your fault.”

  Jake shook his head. “That didn’t matter. I still felt that had I been there she may have had a chance. As it were, her best friend found her. They’d planned a lunch date and Robin didn’t show up. She called an ambulance right away and they worked on her forever but... it was too late.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss, Jake,” Dominique repeated. As much as she’d hurt from her partners’ betrayals, she’d never had to endure anything like what he’d described. “It’s understandable why you prefer to keep things casual.”

  “I never told you I preferred it,” Jake corrected. “I told you that I wasn’t necessarily looking for more than that. I enjoyed my years with Robin, enjoyed being married. I like steady companionship, having someone to come home to and confide in. I had enough of waking up next to anonymous bodies in my bed while playing in the NFL. But after a while that shit gets old, and you want a woman of substance.” He turned his gaze on Dominique, looked at her lips for several seconds before raising his eyes to meet hers.

  Dominique swallowed discreetly. “And you think that’s me?”

  “I don’t know. But I’d like to find out.”

  11

  Reggie’s pacing threatened to wear out the plush white carpeting in Dominique’s office. He was lamenting the fact that after enjoying a wonderful dinner, Dominique had turned down Jake’s invitation for a nightcap at his house. “I just don’t get it, Miss Dom. Pardon my French but you’re a grown-ass woman with grown-ass needs. Ain’t nothing wrong with getting a little loving every once in a while.”

  “I know...”

  “Or a lot.”

  “You’re right. But I get this feeling...”

  “Where, in your cha-cha?”

  “Reggie...”

  “I’m just sayin’...”

  “I get the feeling that if I slept with him it would be hard for me to keep my feelings and expectations in check. I think I’d want more.”

  “And what’s wrong with that?”

  “The timing, Reggie! I have to wait six more years, until Justin has graduated and is away at college. Then I can refocus on my personal desires.”

  “Why do you keep hiding behind that flimsy excuse? That didn’t stop you from seeing the tune-up man. What was his name?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” In this moment, Dominique regretted ever telling Reggie about Charles. If she hadn’t, he wouldn’t be able to use this oh-so-sensible argument right now. “Justin didn’t know the tune-up man, didn’t worship the ground that the tune-up man walked on. That’s the difference.” Dominique looked off into the distance. “I just wish the thought of him didn’t turn me on so much.”

  “That’s just it, girl. It’s because you’re thinking and not doing. Look, the reason why the attraction is so strong is because you’re making him forbidden fruit. We always want what we can’t have.” Reggie came over to the sitting area where Dominique sat idly flipping through a magazine mock-up. He sat down next to her and stilled the flipping pages to get her attention. “Here’s what you need to do. Call that man when you get home. Make a date to go over to his house as soon as possible. Screw that broth
ah’s brains out and let him return the favor. Get yourself some sexual healing, girl. You won’t be able to get him out of your mind if you don’t.”

  “I’m afraid that I won’t be able to get him out of my mind if I do!”

  “Well, hell, if you can’t win for losing at least be satisfied.”

  “Ha! You just might have a point.” Reggie crossed his arms and gave Dominique a look. She acquiesced. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

  “Don’t think, do.” Reggie looked at his watch and noted it was time for their weekly Monday meeting. “I gotta go set up. Can I bring you more coffee?”

  “No, thank you,” Dominique answered. Just bring me Jake. She watched her well-dressed, never-without-a-man-for-long assistant prance out of the room and then she dove into the pile of articles waiting to be edited.

  Lunchtime arrived and it felt as if Dominique had hardly made a dent in the day’s agenda. She knew the reason—couldn’t keep her mind on work. Every time she looked at a dark-skinned model, or saw a chocolate-brown piece of cloth for that matter... she thought of a certain well-defined face, containing lips she’d longed to kiss last night. She thought of the strong forearm and thick thigh on which her hand had rested, and the big chest on which she wished she’d placed her head. She remembered the story about his wife, the pain in his eyes that had accompanied it, and the determination she saw when he spoke of loving again. Immediately she thought of Justin, her go-to barrier where men were concerned but for some reason, in this moment, that hurdle was flimsy at best. Her head was telling her to stay away but her heart—and other body parts—were saying “Full speed ahead!” Maybe Reggie’s right, Dominique thought, pushing away the article in which she’d read two lines in ten minutes. Maybe I just need to do him and be done. With renewed determination, Dominique picked up the phone but before she could dial out, Reggie stuck his head in the door.