Chocolate Dove

by Cas Sigers

  “I was giving you time to get all of your plans out of the way, because I’m not letting you out of my sight tonight.”

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  “On my way to Brooklyn.”

  “But I’m not ready,” she said.

  “I’ll wait.”

  “Okay, see you soon.”

  Basra hung up, jumped in the shower, and quickly got dressed. She threw on a pair of skinny black jeans and a lacy peach blouse. As she was changing purses, the doorman buzzed. When Grayson walked in, she jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around him. He twirled her around, walked with her to the living room, and sat her down on the sofa.

  “I missed you too,” he said, kissing her forehead.

  “I feel like a goofy teenager around you.”

  Grayson reached inside of his pocket and pulled out a bag of Jelly Bellies. He plopped a handful in his mouth. “Want some?” he offered.

  “What is that?”

  “Jelly Bellies.”

  “What?”

  “They’re flavored jelly beans. Guppie’s a vegan but she loves these and now I’m addicted to them.”

  Basra grabbed one and chewed on it slowly. “I don’t like it.” She frowned.

  “Open your mouth.”

  Basra opened up and let him see the half-chewed jelly bean.

  “You got a bad one.” He sifted through the bag and pulled out two pink ones. “Try these,” he said.

  She tasted the candy and smiled. “These are good.”

  “Yeah, they have crazy flavors like popcorn and root beer. If you get one like that, then you have to chase it with strawberry, or watermelon.”

  Basra dug her hand back in the bag and pulled out a pink one with green dots. She inspected it, and then popped into her mouth. “This tastes like watermelon, much better.”

  “You ready?” Grayson asked.

  “Where are we going? Can I wear jeans?”

  “Of course, I wear jeans everywhere. I don’t go if I can’t wear jeans.”

  “Then I’m ready.”

  Basra and Grayson attended Tricks the Devil Taught Me at one of New York’s many Off Broadway theaters. Afterward, they met his two friends who were in the play for dinner, which was at a casual bar downtown. Basra sat and had drinks with the artistic three. There was nothing glamorous or luxuriant about the evening and it was the most fun she’d had in New York. They joked, drank beer, and laughed until two in the morning. Basra was normally a cab girl, and Grayson was a train guy, but he agreed to take a cab back to Brooklyn that evening.

  “You can save a lot more money if you stop taking cabs.”

  “I tried, but the trains take too long.”

  “They don’t if you know what you’re doing,” he countered.

  “How much money do you think I’d save?”

  “Probably five hundred a month.”

  “Nah, not that much. I ride the train sometimes, just not at night.”

  “Let’s say you take a cab twice a day for seven days and the average fare is twenty bucks. That’s ...”

  “$280.”

  “Exactly. You added that quick.”

  “I’m really good with numbers.”

  “What’s 1190 times 258?”

  Basra closed her eyes for exactly ten seconds, opened them, and then replied, “307,020.”

  “Shit, I was being funny, but that’s impressive.”

  “I thought about teaching math at one time.”

  “But you are majoring in psychology, to become a therapist, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, it’s still impressive.”

  The cab pulled over and Grayson looked at the fare. “Twenty-eight dollars. See? That’s an outfit,” he said.

  “In what store? I can’t buy a scarf for that.”

  He shook his head, paid the driver, and they went in. Grayson immediately removed his shoes, stretched across the couch, and got comfortable.

  Basra sat close and placed her legs across his lap. Grayson gently began to massage her feet. She wiggled her toes as he dug his thumb down the center of her arches. “That feels so good.”

  “I’m sure; you’ve been in five-inch heels all night,” he replied.

  “They were only four inch.”

  “Why do women wear heels anyway? Especially you? You don’t need them to make you taller.”

  “I wear flats sometimes, but I love heels. They’re sexy.”

  “Do you know when you’re the sexiest?” Basra shook her head. “It’s when you’re like this, relaxed. I’m sure you’re even more beautiful without makeup.”

  Basra gasped as though he said she’d look better without a head. “I know you’re not saying I shouldn’t wear makeup.”

  “No, do whatever you like. I’m just saying you don’t need makeup, and that I’m sure you’re beautiful without it.”

  Basra, suddenly embarrassed, lowered her head and began blushing. She was used to men calling her beautiful, but there was something about Grayson’s tone and expression when he looked at her. He slowly lifted her chin, gave her kiss, and her body tingled from head to toe. Though there was a strong attraction, much of their chemistry was platonic. But the energy in the kiss was definitely one that would skyrocket their relationship to another level. It was all happening too fast, Basra thought. She pulled back.

  “This is a lot,” she said.

  “Did you feel that?” he said.

  “I did, and ...” Basra said, rising from the couch.

  “What?”

  “It’s going really fast. It’s like we’ve known each other for years. I’m extremely comfortable around you. I’m not normally like that. I don’t even have that many friends.”

  “I don’t want to scare you off, but this is crazy for me too. I’ll be honest; I was dating a couple of people and I feel like calling and telling them to lose my number.”

  “See that’s what I mean, it’s too much.”

  “I’m being real with you. I want to see where this could go.”

  Basra stopped pacing and looked into Grayson’s eyes. He removed his glasses, and reached for her. She grabbed his hand and allowed him to pull her over to the couch. She sat in his lap and kissed him once more. The tingling intensified, and felt like small electric shocks hitting each pore. Basra had never felt anything like that before. The jolt made her leap from his lap.

  “I’m sorry, this is just taking me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting to like anyone like you.”

  “I get it. We can take our time. I will be here.”

  “For real? I’m not seeing anyone or anything but if I want to wait, is that cool?”

  “It depends on how long, but yeah, it’s cool.”

  Basra sighed. “Good.”

  “Will you sit down now?”

  “I’m actually tired, I’m going to hop in the shower. You can stay, though.”

  “The thought of you dripping wet, naked in the next room is a bit much for me tonight. I think I’m going to go.”

  “Oh nooooo. I wanted you to stay.”

  “They’ll be other nights. I have an early morning anyway,” he said.

  Basra lifted him from the seat and smothered him with a loving embrace. He stared into her eyes and spoke. “I was serious about what I said. I want us to see where this can go.”

  “Okay,” she softly replied.

  Grayson gave her a soft, quick kiss and left.

  “Call me when you get home,” she said as he closed the door.

  He nodded and disappeared down the hallway.

  Basra, lost in Grayson’s lingering effect, twirled through her living room, danced into the bathroom, and prepped for bed. She still held a glowing smile on her face as she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

  Friday afternoon, she received a call from Richard Thorne, Sloan’s Philadelphia client. They spoke briefly before agreeing to meet in the city for dinner. Basra was beginning to feel the effect of having a love interest. She
didn’t want to talk to anyone but him and she surely didn’t want to sit and entertain another man over dinner. But these few hours a week would mean she could stash away $6,000 a month, and that was money she couldn’t pass up. Therefore, Basra made sure she arrived at the Central Park Boathouse a few minutes before Richard, just so she could study his actions as he got out of the car and walked in.

  He pulled up in a cab, got out, and straightened his clothing and nervously looked around.

  “Very insecure,” she whispered just before he walked in. He was wearing a moss-colored button-up and khakis just like he said, and he was carrying two roses.

  “How corny.” She giggled just before walking to the front door to greet him.

  “Hi, Richard,” she said with a wide smile.

  Richard lit up like a firecracker. “You are stunning. I mean absolutely astonishing.”

  “Thank you, Richard, you’re quite a looker yourself,” Basra replied with a wide faux but very realistic-looking smile. She was quickly becoming an award-winning actress.

  “Oh, I do all right,” he replied, nervously pulling on his collar.

  Basra ordered a glass of wine as soon as they sat at the table. Richard continued to peruse the wine list.

  “I’ve never been here before,” Basra commented.

  “Neither have I,” he said as he continued to stare at the menu.

  “Do you prefer red or white?”

  “I like white, but it’s not masculine for a man to drink white wine, so I mostly drink red.”

  “I’ve never heard of that. Red is better for the heart. Either way, it’s unnecessary calories, so I monitor my intake.”

  “I can’t imagine you having to worry about calories.”

  “I model and the camera adds weight. I don’t diet or anything, but I watch what I eat.”

  “I’m going to have the Shiraz,” Richard said to Basra.

  She nodded and within a few minutes, quaint dinner conversation began.

  “So, I hear you are from Somalia?”

  “I am.”

  “I spent quite a bit of time in Ethiopia and while I was there visited Mogadishu.”

  “I have family in Mogadishu, but I’m from Kismaayo.”

  “In the Jubaland.”

  “That’s right,” Basra said with a smile.

  “Beautiful place, Somalia.”

  “What were you doing there?” asked Basra.

  “Work. I was part of an investment group that built a few hotels there.”

  “Oh,” replied Basra just before ordering.

  Richard continued to talk but he couldn’t hold Basra’s attention as she occasionally stole glances at the lake. Finally, amid his boring talk about business and hotels, she spoke.

  “I miss the beach,” she said.

  “New York has a beach.”

  “Not like home. We lived so close to the water I used to go every other day. I miss it.”

  “Have you been to Coney Island?”

  Basra shook her head.

  “You should go.” Richard paused, reached across the table, and placed his hand on top of hers. “Am I boring you?”

  Basra looked at his well-groomed nails. They were nothing like Grayson’s. His were different lengths, and his nail beds were slightly dirty with oil paint stains. Grayson’s hands had character. Richard’s were very boring.

  “I guess that’s my answer,” he replied after she never responded to his question.

  “I’m sorry, I was thinking. What did you say?” Basra asked.

  “I asked if I was boring you.”

  “Of course not. I was just lost in thought. I zoned out. I’m sorry.”

  “What were you thinking about?” asked Richard.

  “Grayson,” Basra called out accidentally.

  “Excuse me?” he asked.

  Basra’s unintended exclamation was brought on as she noticed the server three tables over was none other than Grayson. She quickly snapped her head away from his direction and stared out of the window.

  “Are you all right?” Richard asked.

  Basra nervously and rapidly shook her head up and down. She peered to her left but was careful to keep her head turned away from the center of the restaurant.

  “I promise you are not boring me,” she responded much later than Richard would have liked.

  “If you don’t want to be here, now would be a good time to say so.”

  Basra scooted her chair at an angle so as to keep her back toward the other tables and replied kindly. “Richard, I’m just a little nervous when I meet new people. I want to make a good impression, that’s all. Are you enjoying your fish? It looks delicious.”

  Basra just rambled off words as she continued to wonder how come Grayson had never mentioned working at that restaurant. “I’m sure everything on the menu is good. Are you enjoying your meal?”

  Richard paused and slightly opened the left corner of his lips. With his teeth clinched together, he looked like he was showing off a cavity. Basra wasn’t sure if it was a smile or a gas bubble.

  “It’s okay. I mean it’s good,” he mumbled. “I want you to have a good time.”

  Basra released a tiny exhale and scooted her chair around a little more.

  “The bread is good, right?” she said, grabbing the last roll from the basket.

  “Excuse me.” Richard motioned for a server.

  Basra’s heart plummeted like an elevator with no cables. She knew what was about to happen. Her neck muscle tightened as she turned to see the male figure walking to their table.

  “Yes, may help you?”

  As she turned to face him, she respired heavily, causing a loud cough. The man was not Grayson. Thus, she caught her breath and tried and smiled.

  “Can we get some more bread, or can you get our server?” asked Richard.

  “Of course,” he replied.

  As she looked up to acknowledge him with a nod, she caught Grayson’s view in her peripheral. She quickly turned, but this time the movement drew more attention and it was too late. She was spotted, and he wasted no time making his way to the table.

  “How is everything for you two tonight?” he said upon approach.

  “We’d like more bread, but other than that, we’re good.”

  “And you, ma’am, are you good?” he asked.

  Basra turned and smiled. “Grayson, this is Richard; Richard, Grayson.”

  The men acknowledged with small nods.

  “So you work here?” she asked.

  “Part, time, yeah.”

  “You never mentioned it.”

  “Yeah, and—”

  “So how about that bread?” interrupted Richard.

  “I’m not your server, but I will check on it for you.” Grayson walked away.

  “That was rude,” Basra said.

  “How? He’s at work at a restaurant.”

  Basra didn’t comment. Within a few seconds, their original server, Ginny, came out with hot rolls. Grayson didn’t come back to the table until their meal was complete. But he made sure he kept Basra in his sight so that she wouldn’t get away before he said his goodbyes.

  “I hope you enjoyed everything,” he said.

  “It was good,” Basra replied.

  “Great,” he said. “So, you two have a big night planned?”

  Basra looked at Richard, who remained silent. Finally, she answered. “Not sure. But I’ll hit you up tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow, huh?” he said with a look that required no explanation. “Nice to meet you, Richard,” he said and walked away.

  Luckily Richard didn’t ask any additional questions about Grayson and he didn’t desire dessert. They left the restaurant ten minutes later.

  “It’s still early, you want to do something else?” he asked while waiting for a cab.

  “What did you have in mind?” she asked, hoping he would say nothing.

  He pondered a few minutes and replied, “Let’s see if we can take in a play, it’s still e
arly.”

  “Great,” Basra mumbled under her breath. She then plastered on her smile and dug deep for her finale performance.

  She left Richard close to ten that night after going to see The Road to Mecca. Basra purposely left her phone in her purse the entire evening. She wasn’t sure if Grayson would text, and she knew if he did, she couldn’t resist responding. Richard didn’t try anything at the end of the date. He only gave her a hug and asked if she’d be available next Friday.

  Basra responded with “call me,” and walked away. She was home before eleven, and at 11:14, a text from Grayson came through. Basra didn’t text back, but opted to call.

  “Hello, Ms. Sadiq,” he answered.

  “Don’t be formal with me,” she commented.

  “How was your evening?”

  “It was okay. Just so you know, I’m not dating Richard or anything like that.”

  “Hey, it’s cool. We just met. I’m sure you have suitors of all types.”

  “You met me with Lawson and now Richard. I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

  “You’re young, you should be dating. It’s okay.”

  “But—”

  “Basra, it’s cool. I don’t mind competition. Glad to know you made it home safe.”

  “Yeah, so we’ll talk soon?”

  “I’ll call you this weekend.”

  They hung up, but Grayson didn’t call that Saturday or Sunday. Basra gave in and called him on Sunday night, but he didn’t answer. Either he was playing games, or she was the one in competition. Either way, she would pay him a visit the next day to get the truth.

  Chapter 10

  The next afternoon, Basra visited Grayson at his studio. She walked in and stood in the center of his place, but no one came from the back to greet her.

  “Grayson, are you in here?” she called out.

  “Hold up,” he answered.

  Basra took a seat on the bench near the front. She waited for close to a minute and then Grayson waltzed from the back. He gave Basra a warm embrace but she instantly felt the difference. There were hints of skepticism circling his aura.

  “You’re different,” she responded. “Let’s talk about it.”

  “Why do women always want to talk?”

  “We don’t always want to talk, but when there is something wrong, it’s good to get it out.”