Rituals for Love (9781476761893)

by Ray, Shamara

  “We can handle both. I’ve been doing this a long time.”

  “Launching businesses?”

  “Yes, but that’s not what I meant.”

  “Then what?”

  “This was the first year that I haven’t thrown my annual barbecue. You helped me last year, but this year you had a lot going on, I had a lot going on, and I let it slip because we had a lot going on.”

  “Are you saying I had something to do with your decision not to have the barbecue?”

  “I’m just saying that with all of the business matters I’ve been focused on lately, I might need to live a little.”

  “Live a little? I guess I didn’t realize you weren’t living. I definitely didn’t realize that you decided not to have your barbecue because of anything that had to do with me.”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “I heard what you said. Loud and clear.”

  “You know before we started dating, my lifestyle was different. I spent more time with the fellas, was probably a little more spontaneous, and I did a considerable amount of traveling. Obviously, I made decisions about whether I wanted to host a barbecue or not on my own. It didn’t require two.”

  “Okay, well, why don’t you go finish preparing for your meeting or living or whatever it is you need to do tonight. I also had a long day and I’m going to bed.”

  Jade hung up the phone before I had a chance to wish her a good night. I picked up my tablet and reviewed my notes. I had another long day ahead of me and at that moment I couldn’t afford to figure out what caused that conversation to go left.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  JADE

  I turned around and looked at the line of people behind me. I faced forward and counted the heads in front of me. Thirteen. This was ridiculous. I agreed to meet for lunch, but I hadn’t signed on for this. I had no idea what the situation was in the mobile kitchen parked at the corner.

  “Thirteen people ahead of us and there are at least seventeen people back there. What could possibly be so good on this food truck?”

  “Make that twelve. The guy in the cowboy hat just left the window.”

  I tapped my foot impatiently. “Really, Omar. Lunch from a food truck? We could’ve been seated at a dozen restaurants by now.”

  “This isn’t your average lunch.”

  “What are they making in there?”

  “You’ll see soon enough.”

  I shook my head and waited along with everyone else. I kept hoping that someone would walk past with their food, so I could see what it was being served. Unfortunately, it was in a cardboard takeout box.

  “You know, I don’t typically eat from food trucks.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  “I’m sure I could name a few things. All of them unpleasant.”

  Omar wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “C’mon, you only live once.”

  “That seems to be a recurring theme.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing. You just reminded me of something Cain said last night.”

  “Oh, Cain.” His arm fell from my shoulders.

  I turned to face him. “Listen, Omar.”

  “Nine more to go and then we’re next.”

  “Omar—”

  “You don’t have to go there. I know what time it is.”

  “Okay,” I said, looking directly at him. “Because we’re friends, right?”

  “We’re more than friends.”

  “Omar.”

  “As of yesterday, we’re partners. Or have you forgotten already?”

  I smiled. “I’m here to seal the deal. Wasn’t that the premise for your invite?”

  Out came the dimples. He truly was an attractive man. “It was. I didn’t think you’d accept when I said let’s seal the deal with something naughty.”

  “Well, I’m curious by nature and I figured how naughty could lunch get.”

  “You like spending time with me, don’t you?”

  “I’m not answering that.”

  “Why not?”

  “It feels like you’re fishing?”

  “Me? Fishing? That’s not my style?”

  “Maybe not, but I’m still not answering.”

  “We’re next.”

  We stepped up to the window and I peered inside. The cook was lowering a basket in the fryer. “What are you guys making in here?”

  “Rocky Mountain oysters,” the guy working the window replied.

  My eyes widened. “Seriously? Are you guys really making bull calves’ testicles? In a food truck?”

  “Don’t knock it until you try it,” Omar replied.

  I frowned. “I think I’m going to pass.”

  The cook came over to the window. “If my oysters aren’t the best thing you’ve ever tasted, I’ll not only give you a refund, I will give you a hundred dollars.”

  Omar looked at me. “Don’t insult the man. Try them.”

  “This is what you had in mind for lunch?” My voice was an octave higher than usual.

  “I promised you something naughty…”

  “You said naughty, not nasty.” I turned to the cook. “No offense.”

  “How many orders would you like?”

  “Two,” Omar said.

  “One,” I quickly countered.

  Omar had to be out of his mind. I was not eating the testicles of any animal. What kind of food truck specialized in fried testicles? The cook took a batch out of the hot oil and shook them into the cardboard container. He sprinkled them with salt. “Hot sauce?”

  Omar nodded. I turned and looked at all of the people waiting on line to sink their teeth into some testicles. “I can’t believe this,” I mumbled.

  Omar leaned over and whispered in my ear. “You know they’re an aphrodisiac.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m good in that department. Thanks, but no thanks.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want an order?”

  “I think I lost my appetite.”

  Omar paid for his food and made concessions to the guys on my behalf. We walked away from the food truck, and I looked at each and every person waiting in that line. It was silly, but I was trying to figure out what they could possibly enjoy about eating testicles. Maybe they were trying to boost their freak meters. We headed toward Madison Square Park.

  “Here you are this big-time chef. I would have never thought that you would shy away from trying something exotic.”

  “Exotic and food truck don’t mix.”

  “Food trucks have a come a long way. In fact, some of them are turning out really inventive stuff.”

  “That may be so, but I’ll take my meals in a restaurant.”

  Ohh, so the chef is a bit of a snob.”

  “Not at all. I’m not turning my nose up to those that want to dine off of a truck. I just prefer not to.”

  We entered the park at the corner of Madison and Twenty Sixth Street. It was filled with a mix of people on lunch break—mothers and nannies with small children, students and a few homeless people. We strolled down a shaded path to an empty bench. Omar sat down and immediately opened his box of balls.

  “You have to try at least one of these,” he said.

  I shook my head. “No, thank you.”

  He shrugged and took a bite. I watched him and my nose involuntarily scrunched up. He chewed his oyster and winked at me. I made a concerted effort to fix my face.

  “I guess this means I have to find another way for us to seal the deal.”

  “How about we stick to a more traditional method? I’ll get the legal documents drawn up and we can sign them. That will work just fine.”

  “I wanted to try a more creative approach.”

  “Well, it backfired,” I said pointedly. “What do those things even taste like?”

  “Chicken.”

  “Somehow I knew you were going to say that.”

  He dipped his fork into the box and retrieved an oyster. It looked like a fri
ed, golden brown fritter speckled with hot sauce. He moved the fork near my mouth. “Try it.”

  I shook my head. “Uh uh,” I mumbled, through closed lips.

  “Try one bite.” Omar put the oyster directly in front of my lips.

  I took a deep breath and then opened my mouth. I took a tiny bite and chewed quickly, swallowing it down before the texture and feel of the bull testicle could linger in my mouth. I grabbed the bottle of water from my purse and took a couple of gulps. Omar chuckled and ate the rest of the oyster on the fork.

  “That did not taste like chicken.”

  “What did it taste like?”

  “I don’t know. Liver maybe? And I don’t care for liver.”

  “I know what it tastes like,” he said, as if all of a sudden remembering.

  “What?”

  “Something naughty.” He started laughing before he could even get the words out.

  I swatted his arm. “You need help.” After a moment, I found myself joining in his laughter.

  His laughing turned into a lingering smile. “This feels right.”

  I watched a squirrel dart across the path and onto the lawn carrying an acorn in its mouth.

  “No comment?” he said.

  “None.”

  “That’s all right. I know you love me.”

  I chuckled. “About as much as I loved the taste of those oysters.”

  “I bet I’d love the taste of you.”

  “You just say any ol’ thing these days, huh?” I probably should have been offended, but I wasn’t. Omar was harmless. Since he broke up with Damaris, his flirting was on overdrive. It was a good thing I knew he had prospects and wasn’t serious about me. He understood I wasn’t available. “I hope you have a date tonight so she can reap the benefits of those Rocky Mountain oysters.”

  “I’ve been chilling since the breakup. No dates and not even sex. I’m in a drought.”

  “You make it sound like you’ve been single for a year. It’s only a little over a month.”

  “A month is a long time without sex.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Why not? I’m a healthy man with a healthy appetite for sex.”

  “Who should probably lay off the aphrodisiacs.”

  “No way. I’m going be ready when it’s time to show and prove. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I represent without any assistance.”

  “You won’t be showing or proving anything to me.”

  “I wasn’t talking about you, Jade.”

  “I knew that.” I laughed, feeling slightly embarrassed that I thought he meant me. I don’t know why I thought he did. I knew that he was just being flirty. “You should still say no to the bull testicles. Those things were disgusting.”

  “It’s a delicacy. I don’t need them. If they add to my already amazing ability to go long and strong, that’s all that matters.”

  “Overshare much?”

  “I just want it to be clear that I don’t have any problems in that area.”

  “I can spread the word if you want.” I pointed to a group of ladies chatting on a bench a little further down the path. “Do you want me to let them know? One of them may be single.”

  “Not my type.”

  “How can you tell from here?”

  “Look at how they’re dressed,” he said, peering in their direction. “One is too buttoned up—”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “Do you see the length of her skirt? It’s three inches above her ankles. And her shirt… What is that ruffling around her neck? It’s awful.”

  “She has a cute face.”

  “I agree with you. However, what a woman wears says a lot about her personality.”

  “So what is her outfit saying?”

  “It says she couldn’t handle this.”

  I erupted in laughter. “You have no idea what that woman can handle. She may look prim and proper, but give you a run for your money.”

  “I know what I like and that’s not it. Now take you for example.”

  “Don’t even pull me into this.”

  “No, listen. Take what you’re wearing. You have on a fitted skirt. It’s short, but not too short. It stops right above the knee. The skirt shows just enough leg to be sexy, yet professional. Now that’s not really a tank top and it’s not short sleeves. What do you call that style?”

  “It’s a cap sleeve.”

  “Okay. Cap sleeves with a neckline that plunges just enough to show your assets without being too revealing. The necklace and bracelets, those add a sexy touch.”

  “So what does my outfit say about me?”

  “It says that you can handle everything I have to offer.” He leaned back and rested his arm on the back of the bench.

  “You don’t know what I can handle or what I want.”

  “I know what most women say they want.”

  I shook my head. I shouldn’t have said another word. “Enlighten me.”

  “You’ll take at least six inches, although you really want closer to eight. You want a man that loves to eat the puss.”

  “The puss? That’s what you call it?”

  “I call it a lot of things. Puss. Candy. Vise grip. Best friend. Radiance. V. Trap door. Hot springs—”

  “I get the picture.” I tried not to laugh.

  “Where was I? Oh yeah, you want a man that doesn’t shy away from oral sex; is that better?”

  “Much.”

  “You want a man with stamina. He has to know how to respond to what your body needs. When to go deep, when to gently tap it, when to play in it, and when to get down to business.”

  “Who told you these are the things most women want?”

  “It’s what you want.”

  “It’s what I have.”

  “Somebody to bring out the wild side of you,” he continued, failing to acknowledge my comment. “A man that be can strong and vulnerable with you.”

  “I have that, too.”

  “You want someone that you can pull out all of your tricks on.”

  “So I’m a magician?”

  “No. Not a magician. But I bet you canwork magic in the bedroom.”

  I pivoted so I was facing Omar. He watched me without flinching. My expression said he was playing extremely close to the line. One more comment and he would be crossing it. “I really think that you are getting a little too familiar,” I said.

  “You don’t talk about sex with your friends?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “I talk about sex with my girls.”

  “You’ve never had a male friend that you discussed sex with?”

  “I don’t know, Omar.”

  This time he was the one challenging me with a stare. “There’s a first time for everything.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “We’re two friends just talking in the park. It’s nothing to make a big deal about. In fact, why don’t you ask me a question?”

  “Because there’s nothing I want to know.”

  He smirked. “Nothing at all you want to ask me about?”

  “Nope.” I folded my arms across my chest.

  “I thought all women liked to get perspective from their male friends. I guess I was wrong.”

  “All right, fine. I have one question.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “You said you’ve been chilling since your breakup. What’s the longest you’ve gone without sex?”

  “Nine months.”

  “Really?”

  “Sometimes men take breaks, too.”

  “Why did you go so long?”

  “I was dating a woman that was saving herself for marriage.”

  “And you didn’t have a side piece?”

  “What would make you think that?”

  “Not a lot of men would deny themselves because a woman is holding out.”

  “I cared about her. And that doesn’t mean we didn’t do other t
hings.”

  “I hope you don’t mean oral sex because that’s considered sex.”

  “I didn’t say oral sex, but either way I don’t I agree.”

  “You don’t think oral sex is sex?”

  “No, not really. If there’s no penetration of the hot springs, I didn’t have sex. I’m not saying everybody sees it that way, but that’s how I see it.”

  “It’s called oral sex.”

  “Do you consider masturbation sex?” he asked.

  “I consider it a sexual act.”

  “That’s how I see fellatio—as a sexual act.”

  It was interesting how men and women perceived the same thing in such different ways. In my book, if a man penetrated a woman’s mouth, vagina, or chocolate starfish as Bria called it, that was considered having sex. After the White House scandal, men everywhere wanted to claim oral sex wasn’t sex.

  “Then let me amend my question,” I said. “What’s the longest you’ve gone without sex, including fellatio?”

  “Nine months.”

  “Wow. You mean she wasn’t giving up the candy or giving out any treats?”

  “Now you’re calling it candy?” He chuckled. “It was like high school all over again. Dry humping and hand jobs.”

  I couldn’t hide my amusement. “That’s it?”

  “And she’d text pictures of herself naked.”

  “Now that’s crazy.”

  “I wasn’t mad at the pictures,” he said, with a lilt to his voice. “You’ve never texted anyone a naked pic?”

  “Never have, never will.”

  “I was taking all I could get.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “Three years, and trust me when I say I won’t be doing that again.”

  “Is that why you broke up? The sex?”

  “It was part of the reason.”

  “How long did you wait to sleep with someone after you ended it?”

  “Two days.”

  “That’s it?”

  “You’re damn right. Nine months without sex…I was ready to give somebody this eight-by-two.”

  “You like oversharing, huh?”

  “I was trying to make you blush.”

  I turned my head. “I’m not.”

  “Yeah, you are.”

  I couldn’t believe I was sitting with Omar talking about his penis size. Technically, he was talking about it. I was just listening. It was a funny thing about men. If they were proud of their penis size, they had no problem letting you know what they were working with. I wondered how many inches it had to be before a man started bragging on himself. What if it wasn’t big at all, but he knew how to work it, would he still let you know what was in his pants? “I have no reason to blush over anything you said.”