Love in Play

by Zuri Day

  “What do you mean?”

  “I fell asleep.”

  “Dang, girl. It was like that?”

  “It was even better the second time.”

  “Ooh, sister, this is TMI!” And then in the next breath, “Don’t tell me y’all did it again.”

  “Jake left the building at a little after four. I didn’t even bother; just took a shower, curled up on the couch, and caught forty winks.” Dominique paused, reminded of how thankful she was for an assistant like Tessa and the wardrobe she kept at the office so she could be like the Boy Scouts—always prepared. “He’s amazing,” she finished, her voice wistful.

  “I’m so happy for you, sister,” Faith answered, her voice also soft. And then she turned playful. “Except now when I meet him, I’ll be looking at your man in a whole different way!”

  “How do you think I feel? Sitting in my office chair will never be the same!”

  That Sunday, Dominique took Jake to Anita’s house to meet her immediate family. Almost two weeks later the roles were reversed as Dominique left Justin behind to spend Thanksgiving with his dad while she and Jake landed in Birmingham. Dominique was nervous, but there was no need. From the time Jake’s mother, Miss Bernie, enveloped her in a big bear hug and said she was family, Dominique felt just that way.

  Jake followed his mother into the kitchen where Dominique met the wives of Jake’s brothers and a few of the kids. From there, Jake took her into the den, where the brothers were watching football.

  “Big Mac!” one of the men shouted, getting up at the same time. He looked like an older, heavier version of Jake, sans hair.

  “Harold,” Jake said after hugging his brother. “This is Dominique.”

  “This is what I’m talking ’bout,” Harold said, as he hugged Dominique. “Throw away those chicken legs and bring in a woman with some meat on her bones!”

  Dominique met Jake’s other brothers—Johnny and Mike—and their wives, and shortly after that names became a blur. Amid turkey with all the trimmings Dominique met no less than thirty people, all Jake’s kin. By the time they enjoyed desserts of pecan, sweet potato, and pumpkin pie (and a tangy lemon pound cake if pie wasn’t your thing) her head was spinning, partly from the whir of activities and partly from the two glasses of homemade muscatel wine that Miss Bernie insisted she drink. In just one day of being around them, Dominique totally understood where Jake got his strength, his warmth, and sense of family. Where she’d grown up in a single-parent home—made that way because her father walked out—Jake had grown up surrounded by people with stable marriages. After dessert, the men retired to the game room for a rousing game of pool and darts, while the women gathered in the kitchen.

  “Miss Bernie, you put your foot in this food today,” Dominique said, spooning leftover greens from the pot to a storage container. “I don’t think I can eat another bite.”

  “And look at her,” Susie said, cocking her head toward Miss Bernie but talking to Lillian, Mike’s wife. Susie was married to Harold and, at fifty-seven, was ten years Harold’s senior. They’d met when he was seventeen and she was twenty-seven and to everyone’s surprise, had married a short time later. “Talking like hers was the only hands working in the kitchen.”

  “We all helped,” Lillian said, cosigning on Susie’s statement. “But Miss Bernie was the orchestrator, though. If one person is going to get the credit for today’s meal, it would be her.”

  “Thank you, Lilly,” Miss Bernie said, her hand on an ample hip, the other grasping a wooden spoon being pointed at Susie. “It’s good to know somebody in you all’s generation has some manners.”

  “Our generation?” Lillian looked at Susie with feigned indignation. “I’m in the generation after you.”

  “Ha! Girl, you know you’re flying toward fifty. Don’t start none, won’t be none.”

  The women laughed.

  “On the real tip, though, Dominique, I was so glad to see you walk through the door.” Susie wiped her hands on a dishcloth and paused to take a drink of sweet tea. “I’ve only met a couple women Jake has dated since Robin passed and they were snooty, skinny heifahs who couldn’t see the floor in front of them for their nose in the air. You’re real people. I like that.”

  “Yeah, and she won’t blow away in an Alabama breeze,” Miss Bernie added. “I like that, too.”

  After the women finished cleaning the kitchen and putting away the food, they joined the men in Miss Bernie’s lived-in den/game room. Soon the photo albums came out and Dominique was regaled with colorful stories of Jake’s childhood. It quickly became evident that Jake adored his brothers, and that Harold had assumed the father role with ease.

  “I might not have been able to hunt,” Mike said to Jake after Jake told Dominique that Mike couldn’t shoot the side of a barn. “But back then, you couldn’t drive. Harold, tell her about the driving lessons.”

  “Oh, man,” Harold said, clutching his heart. “That boy like to gave me my first heart attack.” He turned to Dominique and continued. “See, I’d spent a year saving up to buy me a brand-spanking-new Chevy Camaro. Let me tell you, baby girl, that ride was tight! Black on black with a wide white racing stripe down the middle, dice swinging from the mirror, fur on the seat, and Cameo blasting from the speakers. You couldn’t tell a brothah that he wasn’t cool! I’d had it for about a month, and Jake had bugged me every single day about driving it. You were what, Jake, twelve, thirteen?”

  “About to turn thirteen,” Jake said, smiling at the memory.

  “Well, one day we were out at our grandparents’ farm and I guess I was feeling generous because after about an hour of his begging, I told Jake to get behind the wheel. There was this long stretch of dirt road right next to the house so I figured not much can happen, right? Man, I’d barely showed him how to work the gas and brakes when the next thing I knew, brothah man had started the engine, thrown that puppy into drive, and before I could grab the wheel we were off the dirt road, racing across Grandma’s field—”

  “And headed straight for Mama’s prized vegetable garden,” Miss Bernie finished with a gleam in her eye.

  “Seems like I blinked and there were tomatoes on the windshield, cornstalks whipping past my head ...” Harold couldn’t finish the sentence for laughing.

  “Grandma came running out to the back porch with a broom in her hand,” Mike continued, amid his own peals of laughter. “In the meantime, Harold finally got the car stopped. Jake knew he was in trouble and just took out running down the road.”

  “With Grandma on my heels waving that broom,” Jake finished. “By the time Mama got through whipping me I’d rather have had that broom upside my head.”

  The whole room burst into laughter, and then they were on to Jake’s twin, Johnny, and his shenanigans with stealing the chicken’s eggs.

  Later that night, after a round of leisurely lovemaking back at the hotel, Dominique cuddled up next to her gigantic teddy bear. “I really love your family,” she whispered, rubbing her hand over his muscular shoulders and down his back.

  “They love you, too,” Jake replied. “Especially Mama. She’s never acted so comfortable with any of the women I’ve brought around as she did with you.”

  Not even your late wife? Dominique thought but did not voice. She’d won Miss Bernie’s approval, something that the wives had privately told her was no small feat. “If Miss Bernie likes you, that’s saying something,” John’s wife Cynthia had told her when they’d both ended up in the kitchen alone. And then she’d added something that had given Dominique serious pause. “I’m glad Jake finally found you so he can get married again. He’s not much for the single life.”

  Dominique turned her back to Jake so she could spoon up against him. She loved the fill of being in his embrace, his weighty arm slung around her waist, his thick thighs pressed against hers. “I love you, Jake,” she whispered, thinking he was asleep.

  But he wasn’t, as she found out when he answered, “I love you, too.”

/>   47

  Dominique returned from the Thanksgiving vacation refreshed, and very thankful. Meeting Jake’s family had not only solidified their relationship, but it had bolstered her belief that relaxing her rule on not dating anyone seriously and giving Jake a real chance had been the right thing to do. He’d proven to be the missing puzzle piece from her life, someone with whom to share and confide. Jake had turned out to not only be a good listener, but a man whose opinion and advice were solid and helpful. He’d helped her feel better about her position at Capricious, encouraged her to embrace her power, and more importantly reminded her that she’d been looking for a job when she got that one. This is the reason she wasn’t overly frazzled today when she was set to meet with the board and a number of investors. Jake’s encouragement, plus the trick that Mirabelle pulled from her sleeve, gave her the assurance that all would be well.

  An hour after arriving to work, Dominique stepped into the fashionably appointed conference room. She’d dressed to impress and did so in her designer chocolate-brown power suit paired with an ivory shell and heels and gold jewelry. Her locs were shiny and freshly done, her makeup applied to perfection, and the scent of her favorite perfume clung to her body like a second skin. She walked to the table with authority, greeting those who were gathered around it. Neither François nor the magazine’s newest investor had arrived.

  “Mon ami,” Mirabelle purred as she stood to hug Dominique, giving air kisses to each side of her face. “You look marvelous!”

  “Thank you,” Dominique replied. “So do you. And have you lost more weight? Girl, you know you don’t need to do that.”

  “Well,” Mirabelle said, her voice lowering to an almost-whisper, “I’ve been getting quite the workout lately.”

  “What’s his name?” Dominique replied without hesitation. She knew that Mirabelle wouldn’t be caught dead in a gym unless it was to pick up her boy toy or for a fashion photo shoot.

  Mirabelle’s answer was interrupted when François entered, a look of superiority on his face. The Italian magazine editor was right behind him, her look smug even as her eyes nervously darted around the room. Everyone took the time to speak to each other and make pleasantries before the meeting was called to order.

  “As you know,” François began, once it was his turn to speak, “a competitor magazine will be releasing sometime this year, which is why I’ve asked Daniela Amato, the editor in chief of La Prima, Italy’s leading fashion magazine, to join us. I’ll detail why momentarily but secondly, I’m very pleased to hear that a very influential member of French society has a strong interest in becoming part of our family. He has royal ties,” François gushed, his accent becoming even more pronounced as he widened his eyes and placed a hand on his chest. “And he is well-known among the A-listers of the Hollywood community. We are very excited about his potentially joining the magazine’s board as a major investor. I’ve spoken with him personally about many things including changes I believe will help breathe new life into this publication.” He cast a look in Dominique’s direction, and then looked at his watch. “His name is—”

  The door to the conference room opened.

  “Xavier Marquis,” François dramatically announced, his face beaming as he stood and walked over to greet Xavier. “I was just telling the room about you, sir. Please come in and have a seat.”

  Xavier strode into the room with a command reserved for those with rich, blue bloodlines and old wealth. He sat, greeted those around the table, and then sat back as François continued. For the next thirty minutes, those around the table provided their newest member with a snapshot of their responsibilities and how they felt the magazine was currently positioned in the publishing world. Dominique’s presentation was strong. She purposely kept the focus squarely on Capricious instead of herself, spouting off facts and figures from memory and sharing her well-researched thoughts on what she felt was the right path for Capricious to follow from here on out. “The average woman in America is still a size 12,” she finished, glad to see that she had everyone’s undivided attention. Even François looked on with what appeared to be sincere interest. “Most women are not A-list celebrities and do not come from great wealth. Which is why I believe that while continuing to woo the big names for covers and lead stories, an emphasized focus on the average American woman—the working girl, single mother, married stay-at-home mom juggling four kids and the like—will help us keep the readers we now have and increase awareness of our brand into the breadbasket of America, and beyond.”

  “I disagree,” François countered. “The woman washing clothes or changing diapers does not want to read about someone else’s equally dull life. She wants fantasy, an escape from the mundane. Yes, she appreciates seeing a woman on the page who looks like her but she doesn’t care about her.” He smiled warmly at Daniela. “Ms. Amato has brought to my attention a bright idea, one that would take Capricious in the direction of, say, a glossy, upscale, classy version of the celebrity-driven tabloid magazine: beautiful big people, lots of gossip, and our continued commitment to fashion, nutrition, and exercise. I would add that in light of today’s economic climate we scale back the number of pages in the magazine and reduce the price by one dollar. We’d sell more when people pay less and believe that the latest scoop on their favorite TV star awaits them between our pages.” When François finished, his face was flushed red with excitement. He turned to Xavier, his eyes filled with anticipation of the praise that he expected. “What do you think, Mr. Marquis?”

  Xavier made eye contact with several of those around the table. Then he turned to François. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, François. But I think that not only does Dominique Clark have her finger on the pulse of what today’s woman desires to read, I believe that she is the very embodiment of Capricious. The idea I find intriguing and which brought me to the decision to put my influence and money behind this publication has at its heart the woman who not only helps tell these women’s stories, but lives it. Ladies, gentlemen, when the next issue of Capricious goes into planning, my strong suggestion is that Dominique Clark come out from behind the scenes and leap onto the very pages of the magazine she helped make a household name.”

  Later that evening, Dominique recounted the events as she and Jake shared dinner in his dining room. Justin was at home doing his homework, under Tessa’s watchful eye. While he knew that Jake and Dominique were very good friends, she’d purposely stopped short of using the word “dating” to describe their relationship. Justin didn’t know that Dominique had met Jake’s family. When asked, she’d told him she was going away on business. Initially Jake had balked at the deception, but Dominique explained that she didn’t want to get Justin’s hopes up until she was more sure of the relationship’s potential for longevity. Fortunately, Leland had called, and Justin spent the holiday with his dad and half-siblings. He came back too excited about their time on the Gulf of Mexico to ask too many questions about her trip.

  “So, in the boardroom old boy had to back that thing up and recognize, huh?” Jake said, scooping up a succulent bite of baked halibut.

  “He was pitiful,” Dominique replied, picking at the steamed vegetables on her plate. “As soon as he realized the winds had changed, he was running up behind me like a Pekingese in heat.”

  “What’d you do?”

  “Well, I didn’t bitch-slap him across the room the way I wanted.”

  “Ha!”

  “I was gracious. But François Deux has torn his coat with me. I’ll never forget this.”

  “Who’s this French guy who came to your defense in such a hurry.”

  Dominique’s hand stopped midway to her water glass. “What does that mean?”

  “Are you sure a stake in the magazine is all he wants?”

  Dominique smirked before taking a drink of water. “Jealousy doesn’t look cute on you, baby, but I appreciate it. For the record, Xavier is married to a gorgeous sistah. I don’t think he’s going anywhere anytime soon.”
/>   “Well, for the record,” Jake said, mimicking her statement, “you’d better not be thinking of going anywhere anytime soon either.”

  Dominique leaned over and kissed Jake full on the lips. “Baby, the only place I’m going is home to my son.”

  A half hour later, Dominique climbed into her car and headed home. She smiled when she saw Justin’s face on her Caller ID. “Hey, baby.”

  “Mama, when are you coming home?”

  “Right now, Justin. Why?”

  “’Cause, I want to see you.”

  “What about?”

  “Nothing.” He paused. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

  Dominique’s heart clenched. “Aw, does my baby miss me?”

  “I’m not a baby,” he sulked. But he didn’t say that she was wrong.

  “I miss you too, baby. I’ll be home in five minutes to beat you in a game of tennis.”

  “Girl, please. I’m gonna kick your butt! Bye!”

  Dominique laughed as Justin hurried off the phone before she could correct him. Even as it seemed he grew an inch each time she blinked, there were still times like these when the little boy came through. “It goes fast,” Faith had reminded her just last week, as they reminisced about Michael’s rowdy thirteenth birthday party. Faith was right, Dominique decided. I’m going to savor these moments for as long as I can. As she opened the door and entered her house to the sound of Justin’s laughter, she thought of her life: a fabulous job, a fine, strong man, and a son who made her heart swell. Dominique’s life hadn’t been this good in a long, long time but right now, it was perfect. She wouldn’t change a thing.

  48

  Dominique sighed with contentment as she looked at the Christmas lights decorating the neighborhood. This was her favorite time of year: lighter schedule, cooler temperatures, and her favorite holiday right around the corner. This second Saturday in December was the first she’d taken off since going to Oakland for the Raiders’ game. The last time before that had been at least four months. Relaxing felt good, and Dominique surmised that she would do it more often. She listened as Justin and Michael chatted in the backseat, going back and forth about who knew more about which team would win the Super Bowl. Jake was on the phone talking to Miss Bernie. In six short weeks, Dominique had gone from viewing Jake as a lover of convenience to thinking that he could quite possibly be her soul mate. They talked every day, often more than once, and saw each other often. Usually he’d come to the office or she’d visit his place, but occasionally, like today, they included Justin in their outing. She didn’t know whether he’d accepted that she and Jake were just friends, or whether he knew the deal and chose to remain silent. Jake had finally convinced her that the holiday season would be the perfect time to talk with him about their relationship, and ease him into the idea of their becoming a family.