Ivy held the phone to her ear and savored her mother’s voice. It was at that moment she realized that she wasn’t ready to speak to Margo—to share her intimate thoughts and now her possible reservations. She wasn’t the same girl who used to sit on her mother’s bed and talk openly about life with all of its possibilities as well as its shortcomings. She, Ivy Myles Mason, had changed, and she abruptly ended the call.
For a moment, Ivy felt terrible because she’d lost the moment to settle things with her mother . . . to get back in her good graces. But then she thought about Malik, her husband, who was on his way home to her arms, who she truly loved and wasn’t going to let no one—her family, mother, or anyone else stand in the way of her loving her man. At first, the sound of the key in the door startled her, but she put all reservations aside, smiled, and waited for her man to walk through the door.
Twenty-Five
Toni Gillette looked up from nursing her second Pomegranate Martini when Jefferson Myles strode into the restaurant dressed in a pair of washed jeans belted at the waist and a red Polo shirt that highlighted his gorgeous chocolate complexion. Gosh, that man is fine, Toni thought to herself, as she watched the movement of his body parts as he approached her table. His stride was smooth and lithe like a cheetah stalking his prey—his taunt muscles flexing and detracting as he advanced. A broad smile lit her face, and to her surprise, Jefferson bestowed one back at her.
“Hello again, pretty lady,” Jefferson said, surprising the hell out of Toni. “How are you?”
“Doing much better now that you’ve arrived.” Toni coughed and patted her chest gently with her hand. “Please have a seat.”
Jefferson squeezed into the booth and sat opposite Toni, glancing at her repeatedly as if he’d noticed something different and unique about her that he hadn’t captured the first time they met. Anyone else might have felt uncomfortable at his repeated assault on her body, but Toni wanted Jefferson to get a good look because she knew that it was only a precursor to what was yet in store for him—if she was lucky.
Toni sipped her drink. “What are you drinking?” Jefferson asked.
“A Pomegranate Martini,” Toni responded. “It’s very good.” She took the tip of her tongue and licked the top of the straw for emphasis. “You ought to try it.”
“I don’t usually drink while I’m transacting business. I like to keep a level head.”
“One drink won’t hurt.”
“Maybe not, but I don’t want any hindrances to our business meeting.”
“I know that you aren’t going to just sit there and let a sister drink alone. Let’s have a congratulatory drink on sealing the deal.”
“Well, we haven’t quite done that yet, but I guess one won’t hurt.” Jefferson waved for the waitress. “I’d like to have a Corona and give the lady another of what she’s drinking.” Toni gave Jefferson an appreciative smile.
After they received their drink order, Toni and Jefferson put their heads together, nodding continuously in animated motion as they worked out the details of Ms. Gillette’s venture, agreeing and disagreeing on certain aspects of the proposal, but finally ending up in unanimous agreement on the how, when, what, why and how much. Jefferson was easy to talk to, and Toni wondered if pillow talk would be as easy.
“Now that all the preliminaries are over, what would you say to stopping by my house for a nice steak dinner? I bet you haven’t had a real meal today.”
“I don’t like to mix business with pleasure,” Jefferson said. “In fact, I was hoping to get back to the office, draw up this contract, and get you to sign it so that my team could get started on it tomorrow.”
“You are a hard sell, but how about a compromise? You can still go back to your office and do what you were going to do, and when you’re finished, bring the contract by for me to sign. And, I’ll still have that steak dinner waiting for you.” Toni smiled.
There was hesitation in Jefferson’s voice, but in the end he acquiesced. “Okay. Is eight too late for me to stop by with the contract?”
“Eight or nine, I’ll be waiting.”
Jefferson stood up. “I’ll see you then. And if you’re ready to leave, I’ll walk you to your car.”
Toni gathered her things, stood up, locked arms with Jefferson and proceeded to her car. She wanted to reach over and give him a quick peck on the cheek, but she thought better of it. Didn’t want to scare him off. There would be plenty of time tonight to make a move on her subject. Shoot, she might have to write her own story and put it in her magazine if indeed what she had in mind panned out, sizzled, and sparkled like she hoped it would.
Toni grinned and smiled as Jefferson held her door open for her. He was a keeper and she was going to play for keeps.
• • •
Flowers seemed to always have a way of appeasing the spirit when one is down and depressed. And Malik knew that. The two dozen red and yellow roses Malik held in his hands as he came through the front door made Ivy forget all about the afternoon she had and the momentary reservations she’d entertained about their status as man and wife. The flowers caused a temporary amnesia, and for now, Malik was back in her good graces.
“For my lady,” Malik said softly, offering the beautiful blooms to his wife.
Ivy’s smile was infectious, unable to hide the joy she felt inside when Malik gently set the roses in her arms. “Thank you, baby.” And she kissed him.
“You’re welcome. Only the best for you.”
Ivy looked up at Malik and knew he was sincere . . . that this was his way of apologizing without going through all the babble.
“I’m ready for dinner if you are,” Ivy said, as she placed the roses in a vase.
Malik went to Ivy and put his arms around her, cutting through the temporary silence. “You look beautiful tonight. If I haven’t told you lately—like in the last hour—that I love you, know that I do. You mean the world to me.” He kissed Ivy on the lips while staring into space.
“I love you, too, Malik. If ever I had a doubt about our being together, this moment put all ill-conceived thoughts to rest.” He managed a smile.
“How does Carrabba’s sound?” Malik offered. “I happen to know that it’s one of your favorites.”
“A good choice and I do believe I’m hungry.”
The ride to Carrabba’s was met with silence. The man who sat next to Ivy had somehow changed from the time she came back to Fayetteville, got married, until today. Maybe Malik was truly concerned about winning the senate seat because a new political figure had come on the scene and announced his candidacy for the same seat. And if the air wasn’t already thick, it became unbearable when Sterling Garrison walked into the same restaurant they had come to sup.
Sterling was tall, slender, and in his late-thirties. He looked as if he’d been carved from a block of creamy, whipped chocolate. Ivy couldn’t help but notice his long, slender hands and manicured fingers as he passed by with his attorney wife attached to him like Saran Wrap on a chicken salad sandwich. They complemented each other, Sterling wearing a sandstone-colored linen suit; a brown shirt; and a brown, white, and black designer tie; while his wife wore a two-piece suit of almost the same color with a pair of brown and egg-shell knock-’em-dead Jimmy Choos on her feet. Sterling played basketball at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, better known as Carolina, back in the day and he also played several years in the pros for the Lakers before a horrific Achilles’ heel injury sidelined him for good. His doctors had said that his Achilles’ heel injury was problematic long before basketball—when he was a sprinter in high school and had been put through an excessive amount of training in hopes of a spot on the USA Olympic team.
“You look much better than that woman,” Malik said to Ivy after the couple passed. “She has too much makeup on, and something about them doesn’t seem natural.”
“You’re just hating, Malik. Anyway, just because he was somebody’s somebody when he was at Carolina doesn’t mean he’s going to bea
t my husband come Election Day.”
Malik really smiled for the first time that evening. “You’re right. Let’s enjoy our dinner and forget about them. They aren’t competition anyway. Ah, the waitress is here to take our order.”
Malik and Ivy ordered their food and enjoyed the moment, although Ivy would catch Malik staring at her and in deep thought. She hated that Sterling and his wife had chosen Carrabba’s to dine because it was affecting Malik more than she first thought. Then out of the blue he started on his rant.
“Why haven’t you called your mother?”
“Huh? What brought that on?”
“I’m sure your brothers and sister have already told your mother about their encounter with us last night.”
“Malik, I don’t want to entertain this right now. We’re supposed to be out for a nice dinner—enjoying us. Let’s not go round and round about my mother tonight.”
“I called her today.”
“You did what? Why in the hell would you go behind my back and call my mother? What’s up with that, Malik?”
“I only wanted to explain to Margo that I didn’t mean any disrespect about not telling her about our marriage. It has been months since I last saw her, and the way we left each other . . . I would rather forget and erase permanently from my mind, I somehow wanted to make amends.”
Ivy sat paralyzed while Malik talked about Margo, her mother, like he was recalling some past moment that he had cherished. “How could you? You couldn’t wait until I was ready to talk to her?”
“I told her that I would talk to you and encourage you to make that step. She misses you, Ivy.”
There was no smile on her face, only contempt. “My relationship with my mother is my business, not yours.”
“She’s my mother-in-law now.”
“I don’t know why you’re doing this . . . .” Before Ivy was able to finish her sentence, she grabbed her head and stomach. She jumped up from her seat and headed for the bathroom with Malik right on her heels. As Ivy opened the door to go into the women’s restroom, she turned around and pushed him in the chest. “Get out of my face.” Before the door closed, she lost it and vomited all over the floor.
“Ivy!” And the door shut behind her.
Twenty-Six
Sitting at his desk, Jefferson sifted through the last few hours of his life. There he was sitting in a restaurant with a woman that he wasn’t attracted to, although physically she may have sparked an emotion. She had all the right curves and who could forget those fine legs of hers. She was attractive in a different sort of way—her intelligence and intellect on top of being a great conversationalist. He found himself wanting to know more about her although somewhat reluctant to tread that way for fear of what his body wanted instead of his heart.
His mind immediately went to Margo. She had suffered something awful at his hands. Margo was still the love of his life and he wanted nothing more than to be with her, to continue being her husband. But he had to face the facts; she didn’t want to be married and she had terminated once and for all the lifelines that kept them together with no hopes of mending the broken cord.
Jefferson went over the contract one last time. He still wasn’t convinced that he was making the right decision by taking on this project, but when all was said and done, he resigned himself to the obvious. He was only the designer, and business was business.
He put the document in a manila envelope and prepared to leave. Before he got up from his desk, he picked up the phone and called Margo. She picked up on the first ring.
“Waiting for someone?”
“What do you want, Jefferson?”
“Only checking to see if Ian is okay.”
“I’m sorry; just a little tired. I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“I could come by and help you, if you like. If you need a babysitter . . .”
“Jefferson, don’t do this. Our divorce will be final soon, and both of us will be able to go on with our lives. There’s been too much heartache for us to continue on as before. You have Jaylin, and I have the twins.”
“Margo, I don’t have a relationship with Linda’s son. I haven’t been given the opportunity to claim paternity. If this is how you really feel, I’ll leave you alone.” It was quiet for a moment, and Jefferson wiped tears from his grown-man eyes. “I’ll always love you, and I’m here if you ever need me. Goodnight.”
Jefferson hung up the phone without waiting for a response from Margo. He picked up the envelope with the contract in it and headed to Toni’s.
• • •
Jefferson put Toni’s address in his navigation system and headed in the direction the guide instructed. Unable to bear the quiet, Jefferson turned on his CD player and Sade seductively cooed about her sweetest taboo. The music made him relax and before too long, Jefferson found himself in North Raleigh at the Wakefield Plantation condos. He found Toni’s building, pulled into a parking space, turned off the ignition, and headed to the unknown with the manila folder tucked under his arm. That’s what this meeting was all about—getting paid, although Sade’s words lingered in his ears like milk residue around the lips after a cool dip into its milky pond.
He brushed down the collar of his red polo shirt—the one he’d worn to the restaurant—and rang the doorbell. Jefferson’s eyes were wide with curiosity when Toni opened the door in a bright magenta and orange-colored silk sheath that covered her main attraction, which Jefferson had anticipated seeing again. And now he was even more intrigued as his imagination was left to run wild. This was the beginning of a night that was full of mystery, and Jefferson was set to play the game to see what it would reveal. A vision of Margo came to his forethought, but he tossed it back to the recesses of his mind.
Toni flung her arm across her body, ushering Jefferson in. “Come in to my humble abode. I see you brought the contract with you.”
Jefferson stammered, mesmerized with Toni’s place and the mystique she brought with it. “Yes, yes, I’ve got it right here. Nice place you’ve got. I love the oriental flare.”
“Yes, I spent some time in Japan . . . Tokyo to be exact. My father was in the Marines, and we were stationed there when I was younger. I remember being intrigued by the country and went back there after graduating college. I thought I wanted to do something in international trade.”
Jefferson looked at Toni in awe. “A well-rounded individual . . .”
“Who was trying to find herself.”
“It looks as if you’ve done a good job of it. At least you’ve convinced me that you know what you want for yourself.”
“That hasn’t always been a true statement, but I think I do now. Anyway, I loved Japan, and I brought a lot of its culture back with me. I almost wore a kimono tonight, but I thought it would be overkill.”
“Well, I like what you have on, although it’s much different from what you wore earlier today.”
“So you noticed?”
Jefferson felt awkward having revealed his hand to Toni. A man should never let a woman know what he’s thinking, he thought. But he ’fessed up. “Yes, I did notice. It also smells good in here.”
“Well, I hope you like filet mignon.”
“A good cut of meat.”
Toni smiled. “You almost got me to say something that would’ve been out of order.”
“What were you going to say?”
Toni waved her finger, no. “Maybe . . . maybe if you eat all of your food I might share with you, but not right now. So why don’t we get business out of the way so we can enjoy dinner?”
“Ms. Gillette . . .”
“Toni . . .”
“Toni, let’s take care of business because I’m famished and I’m dying to hear what you were going to say about a good cut of meat.”
Toni laughed and pounded her arms into Jefferson’s shoulders. He grabbed them and pulled her to him. The envelope fell to the floor, and their lips fell upon each other’s for a moment of silence.
• • •
>
Dinner was getting cold and the contract had yet to be signed. Ten, eleven, fifteen minutes had gone by and Toni enjoyed the feel of this man against her body. Jefferson was hungry all right. He sucked her tongue greedily and probed her mouth like a doctor with a stethoscope, exploring her larynx for possible polyps. She felt his wonderful hands caress her shoulders and move along the curvature of her back, examining and reexamining it like a fine piece of sculpture. Then she exhaled and let her body totally relax as those wonderful hands of his inched down slowly and cradled her buttocks in his hands, squeezing them repeatedly with his long, thick fingers until she released a long, overdue sigh.
Briefly, Jefferson parted his lips and held Toni’s face in his hands. He looked deep into her eyes, and Toni melted. “I trust you don’t hold it against me that I didn’t take heed to my own advice about not mixing business with pleasure.”
With intoxicated eyes, Toni shook her head no. “Not at all,” she finally said. “The pleasure is all mine. And now, if you continue where you left off, that would please me even more.”
Jefferson moved his hands from Toni’s face, but instead of grabbing her buttocks, he took a liberty and drew the sheath Toni was wearing up her sides, an inch at a time. When he felt the hem of her garment, he put his hand underneath until he felt her buttocks. Toni could tell that he was surprised because his hands stopped momentarily upon realizing that all she had on was a thong, and when he grabbed her flesh and squeezed this time, there was no doubt in her mind that what she felt was his hardness up against her . . . his unbridled elation at what her body had done to him. And she was wet, wet, wet and ready for all that Jefferson was willing to give now that she was on fire.
Loud groans and moans of passion were all that could be heard as Jefferson took the liberty to explore further. Toni leaned into him with Jefferson’s every touch, so gentle, so thoughtful, and so erotically arousing. Eyes closed, she felt him lifting her body, trying to assess where he was and where he needed to go. Toni let her right arm fall backward as she pointed toward her bedroom.
In My Rearview Mirror Page 11