She sat and scooted forward. “Thank you. Did your dad teach you to be such a gentleman?” There were white plates, silverware, bottled wine and wine glasses, a pitcher of water and water glasses, as well as a bowl of fresh parmesan cheese.
“He did.” He stepped back to the kitchen. “I hope you like garlic, because while some people might use only one single garlic clove, I use ten. Just warning you.”
“Good. My kind of guy.”
“That’s what I’m saying. Breath mints await us both.”
He brought back a small bowl of four slices of garlic toast, and a big bowl of the shrimp pasta. He placed them on the table.
“Oh my goodness, that looks so good.” She inhaled.
He sat across from her. “Well thank you.” He pointed to the bottles of wine. “I have this red wine, or this white.”
“White is perfect.” She put the paper napkin along her lap.
He popped the cork and poured the wine into the fluted glass, then placed the wine back on the table.
“Thanks, my friend.”
He gave a nod.
“What are you drinking?”
He pointed to the water glass. “Just water for now.”
“I see.”
She picked up her fork.
He leaned over and took her hand.
He bowed his head and she followed. “Bless this food, O Lord, and ourselves to Thy loving service; that we may always continue in Thy faith and fear to the honor and glory of Thy name, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.” He released her hand.
“Amen.” She nodded her head, taking note.
“Sorry we didn’t do that at the restaurant. We should’ve. I tend to do it more at home, but like I said, we should’ve. And we will, my friend.”
She picked up her fork, not missing his returned friend comment. “Deal.”
“Dig in.” His dimples were at their deepest.
They devoured their meals and soon were sitting along the sofa, him sitting one cushion away from her, more jazz playing. She was comfortable, barefoot, wiggling her powder blue painted toes, and her legs were crossed and he sat next to her, scrolling through his phone. The TV was on Family Feud, but muted. The music that escorted the TV was a slow jam mix; a combination of “Nice and Slow” by Usher, and Ginuwine’s “In Those Jeans,” among others. She sipped more wine and listened, feeling full, feeling relaxed. She adjusted the chocolate brown throw along her legs.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
“It’s my dad,” he said to Shasta. He just texted me and now he’s calling.” He put the phone to his ear. “Hey, Dad. Yep. Hold on one second.” He told her, “I need to get something.” He put the phone down, stood up and went past the dining room, down the hall.
Her instincts wanted her to believe that it wasn’t really his dad, that he’d been sitting there texting someone else, and that he went into the other room to talk to one of his many women.
But then she realized that in fact, he didn’t take his phone with him. He’d left it on the sofa next to her. Instincts again insisted that she look over at the screen, and she obliged. Though there was a call that said Daddy-o, a note popped up that a text had come through, and the name made her eyes expand. Maya Papaya. The contact picture was of not only Maya, but of both Ramón and Maya Turner, hugging, smiling, together.
Ramón came back in and picked up the phone. “I’ve got it. The exact name of the company is Fosters.”
She stared at him, and sipped her wine.
He listened for a moment, and said, “Sure. Bye, Dad. Love you.” He told Shasta as he hung up, “My dad wants to get new homeowner’s insurance. I told him about mine but I couldn’t remember the dang name of it.”
“I see.” She only thought about one thing.
He put his phone on the sofa. “You’d think he wouldn’t have to worry about stuff like that all these years.”
She said blandly, “Nothing wrong with trying to lower his rate.”
“That’s the least of his worries.” He sat back and moved an inch closer to her. “So, the meal agreed with you?”
“It did. It was excellent.” She made herself be nice. “You’re a really great cook.”
“Thanks. Not bad for a bachelor, huh?” He reached for his phone again and typed.
“True.” She gave a half-laugh.
He continued typing. “Dad again.”
When he stopped, she said in a low tone, “Ramón, do you mind if I ask you something? It’s kind of personal?”
“Sure.” He put the phone on the cushion again, and turned to face her. “Shoot.”
“How well do you know Maya?”
“Maya? Not that well.”
“Do you know her away from work?”
“We’re Facebook friends. I hung out with her one night after a Bain softball game we had back when I first started. A game you missed coming to, I might add.”
“Okay. But what do you mean hung out?” She knew she sounded possessive. It was her instincts that made her sound that way.
“We took some cell pics together, and with other people. We went to Red Box after, and she came by here. We watched one of the Taken movies together. I don’t remember which one.”
She spit it out. “Ramón. Have you and Maya ever . . .?”
He spoke right up. “Oh no, nothing like that.”
Doubt showed on her face. It felt familiar. “Not like what? Are you telling me the truth?”
“Shasta, I wouldn’t lie to you. Maya and I did not have sex.”
She put her wine glass on the coffee table and turned herself to face him better. “Well what did you do? I mean, did you end up doing to her what you did to me on my sofa that first night?”
He shook his head. “No. She was seeing someone and so was I.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes.”
“If that’s the case, and if it was so important that you had someone, too, then the two of you wouldn’t have been here together watching a movie.”
He used one hand as he talked, moving it along with his words. “We kissed. We hugged. We watched a movie. And honestly, I’ll tell you, Maya spent the night in my room. I spent the night on this couch. And that Monday at work, she and I barely spoke. Later, she told me she got in trouble for not answering her phone. That was it.”
She worked hard to get it right. “So you two spent the night here, and since then you’ve basically been ignoring each other.”
“No. We say hello and goodbye, maybe some small talk. But that’s it.”
“You’re sure that’s it?”
“That’s it.”
She used her hand as she spoke as well. “But why not more? She’s a beautiful girl.”
“She is. But there was no chemistry. I’m not attracted to her like that. Honestly, she felt like a friend and that’s all. The kiss just happened. I thought about doing more just because, but like I said, I was seeing someone, and so was she.”
She thought about how quickly she slept with him while he was saying that Maya did not. Her high about him downshifted. She remembered his comment about black women. “I see that you had no problem breaking your white woman rule in this case.”
“It’s not really a rule.”
“Oh, okay. Sure.”
He examined her face, looking as if he was waiting for her to say something else.
She did. “You’re the one who replied, ‘Does a pimp drive an El Dorado’ when I asked if dating white women was a rule.”
He said, “You asked if I preferred it.”
She followed up with, “So aside from all that, I’m just curious. If you weren’t seeing someone, maybe you would’ve brought your lips to her vagina like you did mine?”
“No.” He shook his head back and forth.
She felt wrong for asking, but still did. “If you were seeing me, would you bring a woman over here?”
“No.” He swallowed and then spoke up. “Look, I was wrong by having her over when I was talking to so
meone. I don’t plan to make that mistake again.”
She took a deep breath, knowing her premature frustration looked crazy to him. She was aware that she looked jealous and foolish, asking things that were none of her business. She asked herself if she would feel this way if it had been a woman other than Maya. Her mind told her no. “Did your girl ever find out?”
“No. And she wasn’t officially my girl, but, I did lie about the reason I didn’t answer her calls.”
“I see.” She frowned at him and then looked away.
“What?” It was as if he wanted his one word to make her turn back to him.
She did. “Ramón, I just don’t want this to get messy. If we work together, for the same company, and you have a history of getting close to women at work, that can put me in a position, and I just can’t have that.”
His voice deepened. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you.”
“You both should’ve told me.”
“Does she know you and I have been going out together?”
“She does.”
He took his phone, and then paused. He asked, “You saw her text, right?”
“Yes.”
He began to read from his phone. “Here’s what her text said.”
She put up her hand. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
“She asked about my transfer.”
“Ramón.”
He brought his phone closer to her. “Here. I’ll delete her contact info. How’s that?”
“That’s not necessary. You can keep Maya Papaya. Your friends are none of my business. I really don’t need you to tell me who you see at work.”
His reply was a question. “Do you see anyone at work?”
She picked up her glass of wine. “I’m sorry I asked you. Let’s just keep it outside of Bain Broadcasting.”
“Let’s.” He sounded agreeable but his sigh said he was concerned.
She took a sip and then asked, “You play cards?” She fought to change gears without seeming trifling.
“I do.”
“You have any?”
“I think I’ve got a deck in the kitchen drawer.”
“Uh-huh.” Just as he stood up to get them, she asked, not really wanting to play, “How about you show me your bedroom instead?”
He stopped and turned to her fast. His face owned a smile. “I can. Right this way.”
They had sex in Ramón’s house, in the bed that she knew Maya had been in. Shasta was again pleased physically by Ramón’s skills, and she made that be what mattered. Nothing more. As she hit her third orgasm at three in the morning she said in her head, All that matters is that this man can screw his ass off!
She left after the sun came up, a bit worried about how well Maya really knew Ramón, but definitely more hormonally bonded than she was when she first came over.
Chapter 10
Johns Creek, GA
Saturday afternoon Shasta sat at home. She had some of Ramón’s shrimp pasta for lunch. He’d called her from his friend’s house, as he helped his friend assemble shelves in his garage.
She decided to take a nap, exhausted from all of the sexual aerobics. She lay across her bed, fighting the urge to make a call. But she lost the battle.
“Hello?”
Right away, just as Maya had done to her, Shasta threw a fast question at her friend. “Maya, why didn’t you tell me you dated Ramón?”
“I didn’t.” Maya had a tone to her voice that was the complete opposite as the night before. She was calm and almost smug. “I’m half-asleep. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Fire described Shasta’s voice. “You know what I mean. You went to his house, watched a movie, and who knows what else. But you never told me.”
“If you want to know what the who’s, the what’s, and the where’s are, the haves and have nots, then ask me. But do not come at me like you’re accusing me.”
“Oh, you’re one to talk. Bottom line is; I believe him.”
“Wow. You actually believe a man. That’s a first.”
Shasta sat up and scooted back, pressing her backside into the bed pillows that were propped along the white quilted headboard. “First of all, Maya, stop acting like you know me so well, because it’s obvious you don’t. Neither one of us does. I never would’ve thought you’d let me sit up and tell you I’m seeing someone, and you not tell me you spent time with them.”
“You didn’t say you were seeing him. You said you two were friends. You downplayed it. Oh, excuse me, you played it off is what you did.”
“At least I told you about Ramón. You never even told me one thing about you and Tyson, or you and Ramón.”
Maya now sounded totally awake. “And you never told me about you and Tyson either.”
“If I’d known you were seeing him, I would have.”
Maya was incensed. “If you’d known I was seeing him, you would have? Actually, no, you wouldn’t have. And neither would I have. He’s the head of the company. You found out because you were hiding in that bathroom.”
“I was. And so what. You’re sleeping with a married man who’s your boss.”
“And so are you, Shasta.”
“Maya, I didn’t call you to talk about Tyson, but since we are, how deep are you as far as Tyson, anyway? Are you really into it, like you’re his main side girl or something? Are you seeing him outside of work, too?”
Maya gave aloud breath. “Main side girl? What are you talking about? And anyway, I’m not telling you. We’re both sleeping with the same man and you have the nerve to ask me questions. How deep I might feel isn’t the issue. The problem is that I can’t trust you.”
Shasta moved her mussed hair back from along her forehead. “What do you mean? It’s not like he’s single and I knew you two were together. Then you could say you don’t trust me. I didn’t know.”
Maya got loud. “We both fuck with a married man and we both got caught up. But hey, I know why you did it.”
Shasta asked, just as loud. “Why? And don’t say I did it so I could get ahead, because I’ve got experience, intelligence, and the skills to get ahead. And I do it well. Why did you do it?”
“You saying the word ahead, is just what it was about. Somebody was getting head.”
“Somebody was, for sure. But like I asked, why did you do it?”
Maya was quiet.
Shasta was on the verge of asking again, even louder.
Maya’s voice dropped. “I like him.”
“Oh really? And no perks for you?”
“None, Shasta. Not yet. But I know what to do. You can bet on that. There will be some coming my way once I get Tyson alone.”
“So you think the answer is to tell him that you know about him and me?”
“Why not? You and Ramón talked about him and me spending the night together?”
“Not together. Separate. Under the same roof.”
Maya popped her tongue. “Oh my Lord! You people are so gullible.”
Shasta turned her head to the side and waited, then asked. “You people? Did you just say you people?”
“I did. Face it. Black women are more headstrong, and white women are known for going easy on a black man and falling for the okie-doke. They say that’s why sports figures end up with white women, because you tolerate crazy behavior and you’re more easily controlled.”
“Oh my God! Where did you hear that from? Being tolerant and less quick to anger is a personality trait, not a race trait. And as far as me personally, Maya, tolerant and passive me is going to let you get away with that little rude comment. All I care about right now is the truth. Did you sleep with Ramón?”
Maya spoke firmly yet quietly. “I slept with him, but didn’t fuck him. We slept in his bed. If he said he slept on the couch, then that Negro is lying to you already. See, that’s how black men are. It sounds to me like that dick is getting you hooked. Since you were brave enough to go there, you’d better get used to it. He’s shady, j
ust like the rest.”
Shasta moved over and came to a seated position along the side of the bed. “He is not my man, and you cannot possibly be talking about what black men do when Tyson Bain, who is white, is playing both of us. It’s not a color thing, Maya, so stop it. It’s a man thing.”
“It is. Men are a trip. And I’m telling you now; Ramón is not only tripping, he’s lying.”
“If Ramón is lying, I’ll deal with that.”
“If he’s lying?”
Shasta asked, giving a roll of her neck, “Maya, do you really like Tyson like that? Like, would you want to be with him if you had the chance?”
All Maya could do was ask, “Do you really like Ramón like that? Like, would you want to be with him? Oh, I guess you do.” She then said, “Wow. And there I was telling you that short men are tall where it counts. I guess you know now.”
Though Maya’s cockiness was obvious, Shasta decided it would be best to sound calm at that moment. “I’m not mad. But obviously you are.”
It worked, because Maya shifted into fifth gear. “I suggest we back off of this friendship thing we’re doing. I cannot afford to lose my job. All four of us are violating a whole bunch of rules; job related, marriage related, friend related, honesty, trust, all that. Actually, I’ll talk to you later.”
Shasta almost whispered, purposely wanting to seem suddenly unaffected. “Fine. You’re the one caught up. Not me.”
“You bitch!”
Shasta looked at the phone, seeing that the call ended. “Oh no she didn’t just call me a bitch.”
Chapter 11
Downtown Atlanta
Two days later while at work, Keisha, Shasta’s assistant, buzzed in on Shasta’s intercom. “I have Ramón on line two.”
“Thanks.” Shasta sighed a bit in her head, saying, Oh Lord, and then pressed the line and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
Right away he asked, “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”
“Well hello to you, too. I’m working.” She lowered her voice as if she could actually be heard even though her door was closed. “Why are you calling on my office line?”
“You know why. Because you weren’t answering your phone. You didn’t yesterday either. I’ve left messages.”
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