To Each Her Own (The Swirl Book 1)

by Sylvia Sinclair

  “Uh-huh.” Maya gave a skeptical eye.

  Shasta looked down and then at Maya. “Okay, fine.”

  “Fine what?”

  She sighed. “I have had sex with him. Sex with a short, black, mailroom guy named Ramón, who is undoubtedly, the best lover I’ve ever had.” She looked inside of her purse, grabbed her keys and closed it. “I’m excited to be able to see him when I can. I’ve had absolutely no one for so long. It's new.” She jingled her keys. “And trust me, I’m not trying to bring him home to daddy, or talk about love and babies and a future. I just wanted you to know because we talk about everything. Heck, we work together. All three of us. Me, you and him.”

  Maya nodded. She blinked a long blink. “I knew it. And yes, I know we all work together. It’s just that I’m surprised, that’s all. I mean, what do you two have in common other than that? I’m concerned that he hasn’t even worked here long and he’s already made his way to making a move on you, a Senior Vice President at that.”

  “It’s okay. If it ends up being a problem with the company, that’s on me, not him. I’m an executive and I know the risks. But I don’t plan on it going any further, or being an issue.” Shasta’s phone sounded. She took it from her purse.

  Ramón: I’m here.

  She said, “Listen, Maya. I’ve got to go.” She put her phone and keys in the same hand, and opened the door. She stepped out and so did Maya, locking and closing it.

  Maya said softly, “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Shasta looked back and examined Maya’s face. “Smile, girl.”

  “I am, can’t you tell?” She flashed a big grin that faded quickly.

  “What I see is a wrinkled forehead. Talk to you later.”

  Maya just strode on.

  Shasta texted back:

  Shasta: Leaving work now.

  Chapter 6

  Midtown Atlanta

  Shasta and Ramón had been drinking and eating jerk chicken, mussels, and crawfish eggrolls for about an hour. They sat across from each other at a small table at the Highlander, a bar and grill in Midtown, a place known for having great food, live music, and a fantastic game room.

  Ramón sipped on his regular Guinness.

  Shasta downed the last sip of her bottomless lemon mimosa.

  “You good?” he asked, pointing to her glass.

  She put her hand over the top of it. “I am thanks. Two is good for me.” She smiled. “Actually, two is all I should’ve had on Friday night.” She looked at him like he knew she was right.

  “Hey. One thing is for sure; I’ve got you. I can always get you home.”

  “Oh, we know that.”

  “Yes, we do,” he said grinning. He looked around the restaurant. “You know, I was gonna tell you; places like this are cool and all, but I was thinking that next time, I’d really like to cook for you. Maybe one day soon. You haven’t been to my place yet.”

  “No, I haven’t. That might be possible. So you can cook, huh?”

  “I can. I can make just about anything. Well, maybe I shouldn’t say that. I’m not good at everything, but I’m at least willing to try.”

  “I see. It’s rare to find a man who cooks.”

  “I’ve heard that before. It’s really all my mom’s fault. She taught me how to make a lot of Puerto Rican recipes, but she also cooked soul food for my dad. She even made Italian food. They loved pasta. And I’m warning you, if you want a serious shrimp fettuccine Alfredo, I’m your man.”

  She nodded. “Heck yeah. I love any kind of pasta.”

  “Good. I’d love to make it for you.”

  “Maybe.” She knew she had to say, “Ramón, first I want to talk to you about something.”

  “Okay.”

  She went right into it. “It’s about the office policy that deals with employees getting together outside of work.”

  “Yes.”

  “I think it’s only right that we discuss it. And I, for one, need to be a good example to you and others. I’m an officer at Bain. I really don’t want anything to happen that affects your job just because we’re friends.”

  “Oh no, it couldn’t.”

  “Why do you say that as if you’re so sure?”

  “Because, actually, after today, it won’t matter anyway. I found out we won’t be in the same office anyway.”

  She took a second and then asked, “What do you mean?”

  “My boss told me that Mr. Bain has someone coming, probably some type of nepotism situation, I don’t know, but it’s someone who needs to be trained. So he needs me to go to the Alpharetta office, starting immediately.”

  “Alpharetta? Like tomorrow?” She acted surprised, but was not.

  “Yes.”

  “For how long?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Aren’t you curious about why it’s happening all of a sudden?”

  “No. The guy must’ve just started. Shasta, it’s no big deal, other than the fact that I won’t be able to see you around the office. Now that’s gonna make the days cloudy. That much I know for sure.”

  “That’s really sweet of you to say. But, I find it interesting. I mean, just because someone new is training, it seems . . . I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “Look. Don’t you worry about it. Plus, Alpharetta is even closer to my apartment than Downtown. I’m okay as long as we can maybe meet up after work like this. I think that’d be cool. Truth is, I’m just happy to have a job.”

  “I can understand that.” Her mind raced a mile a minute.

  He continued. “Some of my unemployed friends have been putting in eight hours a day, sending out resumes. They’re damn near begging for work. One of them told me he’s willing to sell his sperm, pee, saliva, hair sample, or whatever, just to pay the rent.”

  She grinned, listening to what he said, but not really.

  “Thank God I don’t have any kids, and no one’s depending on me. For now, I’ve got one mouth to feed. In a few years, it might be different. But ain’t nobody getting my sperm unless I’m in bed with them.”

  Now she heard every word of his four sentences. “So you do plan to have kids soon, right?”

  “Not anytime soon. But I want to get married, and then have a child or two. The way I was raised, marriage definitely comes first.”

  “It should. I agree. Anyway, you’re young. You’ve got time. I’ll bet you’d make a great father.”

  The white male waiter walked up, refilling the water glasses. He asked Shasta, “Are you two okay?”

  Ramón replied for her. “I would say we’re okay, but it depends on what the lady wants.”

  She told the waiter, “I’m fine.”

  The waiter said, “Yes, you are.”

  Ramón paused, and gave a look, saying, “We’re good.”

  “Got it.” He walked away.

  Ramón said, “Did that Jackassanova just say you were fine?”

  “I think not.” She tried to play it off.

  “I don’t think so. I think if he was flirting, and I think it’s because he doesn’t think we’re together, like a couple.”

  “I don’t think that.”

  “Well, I do.”

  “I hope not.” Ramón being angry and jealous turned her on.

  “I haven’t liked the way he first took our order and looked only at you. But whether he’s flirting, or has a problem with us, I guess it’s the way of the world. Right or wrong.”

  In spite of her being impressed, she continued from where they had left off. “So like I said, I think you’d make a great father.”

  He gave her a look like he knew what she was doing. “Well thanks. My dad was a great role model, but he’s a straight up fool. A true strait-jacket nut. But I guess you can tell that by me, huh?” His shifted from his serious side, and his left dimple deepened.

  “A little bit.” She smiled big.

  “What about your mom and dad? I know they live in Augusta. Are they still together?”
/>
  “No. My mother remarried. My dad is single. Not sure if he dates. If he does, he sure doesn’t tell me about it.”

  “Are you two close?” He took hold of his beer bottle.

  “I talk to him on the phone maybe every other week or so. I try to go down there once a month, or at least I usually plan to.”

  “Does he come here to Atlanta?”

  “No. My dad is a homebody.” She swirled her straw around in her water glass. “He’s retired. He still serves on the Board of the company he sold though. My dad’s joy is to be in this huge, monstrosity of a new house he bought. He’s nearly seventy years old. As long as he can go fishing on his lake, or play golf, he’s good.”

  “I see. Really? On the Board. Wow. What did he do for a living?” He took a long swig.

  “My dad owned a media company. Gibson Media. Got a pretty penny for it. He’s never wanted for money because he’s always been frugal and saved every penny. But lately, he’s been spending money like water, including buying that big old house, when it’s just him.”

  “Well, I must say, it’s great that he can do that.”

  “Yeah. I guess so. If nothing else, my dad is smart. And rich. But he is also as downright crotchety as he can be. I can handle him, but I doubt anyone else would want to.”

  “I’m willing to bet that if he really wanted to, he’d get scooped up in a heartbeat.”

  “I guess he could, but he’s stuck in his ways. I love him to death though.” She sipped her water from a straw.

  “That’s what matters. Especially when it comes from Daddy’s little girl. And your mom. She’s in Augusta, right?”

  She nodded. “She left him when I was in high school and she married a preacher out there. It was a big scandal because she was seeing the pastor while she was still married to my dad, so needless to say, my mom and dad don’t talk much. I’m sure that’s why he sold the old house. Too many memories of her.”

  “Do you talk to her?”

  “It’s been years. She doesn’t really call me. I don’t call her much. I think I felt sorry for my dad and resented her for a while for cheating on him. But she was never nurturing, to him or me. Actually, neither of them were.”

  He examined her eyes. “I see. Well, I want you to know, I’m impressed with how you turned out. You have a great position, seems like you’ve got everything going for you. That’s major.” He reached over, put his hand on hers, and squeezed.

  She suddenly heard a ticking sound, and was reminded that though she did have a lot, she didn’t have everything. The sound she heard was that of her biological clock. “Thank you.” She paused, remembering his dinner offer. “I want you to know that I’ll take you up on that offer to cook for me.”

  “Done deal.” He removed his hand, set his beer on the table, leaned back, and smiled.

  She looked at him, and then up toward two stylish, tall black women who paraded by. One looked at Ramón, and then at her. The one woman said something to the other woman, who looked back at Ramón, and then looked at Shasta, cutting her big brown eyes so hard, that she sliced Shasta’s face down the middle. To Shasta, the look said she was stealing their black men. And Shasta felt it. Her reply to them in her mind was, Bitter Bettys!

  Shasta immediately looked down, and wanted to say something to Ramón about it. She wondered if they continued to meet in public, would she get more flack than he would. But instead she asked, “So, do you prefer to only date white?”

  He looked like he wanted to laugh. He spoke fast. “Does a pimp drive an El Dorado?”

  She laughed.

  “Does Paula Deen use the N word?”

  “Stop.”

  “Does Pinocchio have wooden balls?”

  She chuckled. “Okay, I guess that’s a yes. But seriously, why?”

  “Why not? Shit’s good.” His long eyelashes flirted.

  “Come on, Ramón.” She didn’t want to laugh, but couldn’t help it.

  He grabbed his beer again, taking a sip, looking focused. “I guess because I grew up around white people in Miami. My parents live in Weston, in Broward County, and that’s like eighty-percent white and twenty-percent other. Very few blacks. I went to a private school with mainly white kids. I had to be open to women of other races. There weren’t a lot of black girls.”

  “I see.”

  “In middle school I think I related better to white people because my early interactions in life taught me to not have issues with them. I was comfortable. I was one of a few kids in my high school that wasn’t white. You adapt to what you’re used to. I will admit that one time when I invited a girl to my birthday party, she said she couldn’t come because I was black. But she was still nice to me. In school I felt like I could be myself, and I even talked to my mom about it. She told me she related to people outside of her race better, too. She grew up in Maryland, around a lot of Hispanics. It just is what it is.” He took the final gulp and set the bottle down.

  “I get it. So your mom is black?”

  “Yes. And my dad is from Mississippi, but he’s Puerto Rican. They both ended up going to school at Broward College in Florida. That’s where they met.”

  She thought. She spoke. “Excuse me, but let me ask you this, because I’ve wanted to know: Is Puerto Rican considered Latin American or Hispanic?”

  “Actually, they’re two different things. Hispanic is not a race. It means someone who relates to Spain or a Spanish speaking country, or they speak Spanish. So it means you come from a Spanish speaking country. Like Mexicans are from Mexico, but they can be called Hispanic because of their language. Latin Americans, or Latinos, are people having actual heritage in the countries of Latin America, like Brazil, Mexico, Chile, Costa Rica, and many others, including Puerto Rico. Does that make sense, or do I sound like a bogus Spanish teacher?”

  She winked. “It does make sense. So your dad is Latin American, from Puerto Rico, right?”

  “That’s it. So I say he’s Puerto Rican.”

  “Got it.” In her mind, she just had to go back to the subject of him dating black or white. “But as far as black women, have you ever dated any?”

  “Oh, I did.” He held up one finger. “Once. But her problem was that she had a problem with my height. I didn’t have a problem with hers, and she was damn near six feet tall. Hell, I enjoy climbing a tree.”

  “I guess you do. That’s called confidence. And so you never tried another black girl? Maybe a shorter one?”

  “Ha-ha. I’ve dated Puerto Rican woman. And trust me, that’s about as close to black as you can get. Puerto Rican women will put their foot down and be ready to fight. But one thing I don’t like, is that they’ve got some big old heads.”

  Shasta looked shocked, but was a millisecond from laughing. “They do not.”

  “They do. It’s their foreheads. Even my grandmother and aunts have big old heads.”

  “No way.”

  “Way. I’m telling you. It’s a fact. Have you ever really looked at them?”

  “No, Ramón, I haven’t.” Him trying to convince her, him smiling, him playing around, made him look even more attractive to her.

  “But I will say, while Mexicans have very small behinds, Puerto Ricans have got some tiny waists, some serious hip action, and big ole bootys, serious fatties. And my-oh-my, Shasta, if I may say so, you do, too. I’m telling you, you have some major booty meat. A big behind will do it to me every single time.”

  That much she knew. “Booty meat, huh? I figured as much.” She thought, with all of that penis you’re carrying around, a woman with a big ass needs you just so you can get past her cheeks. She gave a full grin just from remembering him hitting her from the back like he was Dolomite.

  The waiter placed the check on the table and headed to another table.

  Ramón took it. “So where’d you get yours? Your backside I mean?”

  She snapped out of it. “Oh, it had to be my dad’s side of the family. Maybe his aunts. But not from my mom. No way. She de
finitely suffers from a true lack of vitamin A.”

  “A as in, Noasitol?”

  “Yep.” She giggled.

  “Well, that or not, she must have some serious genes because you are fine as frog’s hair.”

  She cleared he throat. “Ramón. I’ve always wondered. Do frogs really have hair?”

  “Yes, they do. It’s just so fine you can’t see it.”

  “You say so.”

  “See, Shasta, the way your body is, you have more curves than a racetrack.”

  She tried to imagine it. “So you’re saying I’m round.”

  “No, you’re packed and you’re stacked, especially in the back. I wanna thank your father for a butt like that.”

  She rested her forearms along the table and just looked at him. “Ramón, I mean really. You did not just quote Salt-N-Pepa lyrics.”

  “I did.”

  She shook her head fast and leaned back. “No. Don’t do that. Now I’m not going to be able to get that song out of my head.”

  “Oh, please. You do not know that song.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  He looked her dead in the eyes.

  She sat back and watched him, watch her. “What?”

  “Those blue eyes though.”

  “Now those are my dad’s for sure.”

  “Amazing. You are absolutely beautiful, and I mean that. I really want you to know that just to be able to hang out with you, getting to know you, means so much. Believe it or not, right now, I’m beyond words, and for me, that doesn’t happen very often.”

  “Oh it won’t last long, I’m sure.”

  “True.”

  “But thank you. You’re pretty good looking yourself. You’ve got those dimples that are like quarter slots.”

  They showed their depth. “Thank you.” His face flushed. He looked over to an area beside the bar and asked, “How about we move on over to the pool table? You got game?” He pulled cash from his wallet and paid, taking his copy of the bill.

  “I do.” She looked as certain as she felt.