Rituals for Love (9781476761893)

by Ray, Shamara

  My bag vibrated next to me. I pulled my phone out. Omar.

  Did you make it home safely?

  I’m still in one piece.

  Are you all showered and smelling good?

  I always smell good.

  I would like to find out.

  I craned my neck and looked at the phone. He was a mess. So much for the chat we had at Blaze. He didn’t care if he tipped the boat over.

  He fired off another text.

  It’s true…

  You need to find a girlfriend.

  You’re right. I need someone special that I can shower with after a night at the club.

  I tried to tell you to find someone at Blaze.

  I got distracted when you started talking about your panties.

  What’s with you and my panties? I said you should charm the panties off a cutie at the club.

  I was trying.

  These panties are spoken for…remember?

  I hope they’re being taken care of. Gently, delicately, lovingly.

  Sounds like you’re interested in doing laundry.

  I’d do your laundry. Your panties and your bras.

  I laughed out loud while I texted my reply.

  I wouldn’t want you messing up my expensive unmentionables.

  I have experience.

  Not with these.

  Let me see and I’ll let you know if I’ve worked with them before.

  Let you see?

  Send me a pic.

  He was relentless. I sat up and grabbed my La Perla catalog from the coffee table. I flipped through the pages until I found a model with my caramel complexion. I snapped a picture of her in a sheer, black bra. I cropped the photo so only her neck to navel were visible. I sent the picture to Omar.

  Could you launder this for me?

  I held the phone in my hand, smiling at the display. He replied immediately.

  Is that really you?

  LOL! Goodnight, Omar.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CAIN

  Two days and not a word from Jade. I left her a message the night before and she hadn’t returned my call. It wasn’t like her—it wasn’t like us—not to communicate with one another. She was entitled to be mad and deal with her anger in her own way. I didn’t like it, but I wasn’t going to push the issue. I was sure she had received my message and when she was ready to talk, she would reach out. Until then, I’d let her be. Hopefully, I would be in the mood to talk. If not, we’d deal with the fallout.

  I was in love with a strong-willed woman. I appreciated that about her, but sometimes she couldn’t see past her own awareness of a situation. She wanted things her way and if she felt she was right, then she was right. I had never been the type of man that had to prove I was right about an issue. I’d rather find a resolution and move on from the problem. I wanted to talk, she didn’t. She was mad and wanted to stay mad. I had replayed our conversation in my head a few times. I didn’t think I said anything that should have made her angry, but the conversation had definitely taken a wrong turn. When we first started dating, we were both consumed with one another. It was as if we were so surprised at how someone right under our noses sparked such an immediate reaction. Our chemistry was off the charts. I was always attracted to Jade, but she was involved with someone else. The day she opened her eyes to me, it was as if a veil was lifted. We were drawn to each other in ways neither of us expected. I stopped doing things that I normally would, as did Jade. We spent more time with each other than we did with others. It’s natural. That’s what happens in new relationships. It’s over a year later and relationships evolve. We were lucky enough that our relationship was experiencing a positive evolution. In my mind, there was room to evolve while retaining elements of what got you to your current situation. Apparently we disagreed. I was fine with a difference of opinion, but I didn’t subscribe to someone trying to impose their opinion on me. There was nothing wrong with agreeing to disagree. I was working on too many projects to be able to spend time coaxing Jade out of her feelings. I had a multimillion-dollar commercial real estate project in the works and that’s where I needed to direct my focus.

  After my meeting with the project manager earlier in the week, I determined that I would have to spend a lot more time in Atlanta. Yet another issue I wanted to discuss with Jade. The more business enterprises I embarked upon in the area meant the more I had to stay on top of them. I had a house and car at my disposal and Atlanta did feel like a second home. Admittedly, whenever I was in town most of my time was spent on work. I didn’t go out much. I was usually at home.

  I didn’t have any meetings this morning, and I was sitting on the sofa in the living room with my feet on the coffee table. Blonde hardwood floors glistened in the morning sunlight. When I bought the house, I had a decorator come in and furnish the place from top to bottom. All sorts of designer knickknacks, artwork, and furniture that would have never been on my radar were splashed throughout the house. The area rug alone cost upward of $15,000. My house in Atlanta was more than comfortable, yet I had no social ties. That would be an area I had to work on improving.

  Genesis would be opening soon and I would do my best to support the effort whether I was in New York or Atlanta. However, this was Jade’s baby and she had to spearhead its success. She was aware of my business dealings and that Genesis was only one of many. I’d make sure she had the best resources and team in place to help run the business. I never intended or would have been able to give Genesis my attention on a daily basis. Neither could Jade for that matter. She still had an obligation to Rituals. She wanted this business and I could afford to make it happen. The rest was up to her. We were partners, but I needed her to own the project. If I could offer my guidance, I would. If there were capital requirements, I’d meet them. We had something special in the works and I had every confidence in her ability. I smiled in spite of myself. Even though she was upset with me, the thought of her made me smile.

  I reached for my tablet and perused my growing list of items that needed to be taken care of for the barbecue. Instead of a start of summer bash, it would be an end of summer blowout. Traditionally, the event was something I looked forward to hosting. Year after year, friends, family, and even some business associates descended upon my house in Old Westbury for good food, good music, good company, and good times. I thought about what my man Davis said and realized he had struck a nerve. My lifestyle had changed some. The annual barbecue was a big part of who I was and what I enjoyed doing. Riley sort of reminded me of my conversation with him when she said I should live a little. She was referring to my time while in Atlanta, but it certainly applied to my life in New York, as well. It was rare for me to allow myself many indulgences. I worked hard and the barbecue was one of a few manifestations of the recreation I justly deserved.

  I added one more thing to the list. What would an end of summer blowout be if we didn’t have any fireworks?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  JADE

  The ringing of a phone lured me from a state of semi-unconsciousness. I rolled over and stared at my cell on the coffee table. It was off. It took a moment for me to process that it was my house phone ringing in the kitchen. It stopped briefly and then immediately resumed. I sat up on the couch, my skirt twisted around my waist. My head was pounding. I clutched my scalp as if holding on to the source of pain would calm it. No such luck.

  I pushed myself up off the couch and wandered slowly into the kitchen to grab the nagging telephone. “Hey,” I croaked.

  “Don’t you sound lovely?”

  “What’s up, Bria?”

  “I have your car, Ms. Tipsy.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “When you get yourself together, take a cab to Rituals. We can have lunch together.”

  “All right, let me get showered and I’ll be there. I’m giving you advance notice that I’m not in the mood for another lecture.”

  “I’ll see you when you get here.”

  Bria hung up b
efore I had a chance to respond. I carried the cordless back into the living room and curled up on the couch. I dialed Cain’s number. It went straight to voicemail. I waited a few minutes and dialed again—voicemail. Knowing Cain, he was probably in a meeting with his phone turned off. I would call later rather than leave a message. It was probably for the best that he didn’t answer. Having a serious conversation with a splitting headache was not what I had planned for the day.

  I tried to will myself to go get a couple of aspirin. My body didn’t move. The trip from the living room upstairs to my bathroom seemed like a journey I wasn’t ready to take. Had I thought happy hour would result in my having a horrible headache the next day, I would have skipped the drinks. It was then I realized that I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast yesterday morning. I was drinking on an empty stomach. It was no wonder the drinks made me tipsy so quickly. They were certainly potent, but there was nothing to absorb the alcohol. I wasn’t a novice at drinking, maybe a lightweight at times, but making sure to eat first was Drinking 101.

  I thought about Ernest having to call Bria to get me. That was a little embarrassing. He obviously thought I was in no state to take care of myself. It wouldn’t have been the smartest thing to drive, but did he really think I couldn’t handle Omar? And what type of person did he think Omar was if he didn’t trust him with me? I’ve never seen him be anything other than a gentleman. Or, maybe he didn’t trust me with Omar. Perhaps he thought Omar was the one in danger from me. Ernest may have been trying to save his friend from a drunken attack from a wayward woman. I laughed weakly at the thought.

  I really did appreciate that Ernest thought enough to look out for me. Although I wasn’t concerned that anything inappropriate could have happened as a result of Omar taking me home. I stood by exactly what I told Bria; Omar was harmless and, more importantly, we were just friends. I didn’t have a doubt that I was in good hands when we were together.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CAIN

  The dining room was filled halfway to capacity when I entered Eden2. It wasn’t bad for an early evening right after work. I walked straight through the restaurant and into the kitchen. Riley looked up from her workstation and a smile slowly crept upon her face. I greeted everyone before stopping in front of her.

  “I was hoping you were going to come in today,” she said, glancing up from the avocado she was slicing.

  “Why is that?” I asked, attempting to keep my tone neutral.

  “Because,” she wiped her hands on a towel, “I met with Zaire today.”

  I thought for a moment. “He’s one of our suppliers, right?”

  “Right. We get all of our beef from him.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Not at all. He’s having a charity event Saturday night and invited all of his clients. It’s a fancy affair downtown and he wanted both of us to attend.”

  “I don’t know. I have an early morning flight on Sunday—”

  “He insisted and won’t take no for an answer. Apparently, his family founded the charity ten years ago. They come from old money and have a lot of influence in the community. There’s going to be press and a lot of the big restaurants in Atlanta will be present. He wants to list Eden2 as one of the sponsors.”

  “That means he wants Eden2 to contribute to the charity.”

  “He didn’t mention that, but he left an invitation and asked for an RSVP by tomorrow.”

  “Talk about last minute.”

  “I could attend, but I told him I didn’t know your availability.”

  I was available, but it seemed as if my attendance was going to cost me money. I didn’t know anything about Zaire on a personal level or his old money family’s charity. I headed to my office with the invitation in hand to do my own research.

  I looked up the charity and the previous year’s event. The charity was actually doing great work in Atlanta with feeding the homeless and providing food to soup kitchens. Apparently, Zaire’s family owned acres of farms and a few meat packing plants. The event last year received a fair amount of local coverage and some of the restaurants were featured in the stories for partnering with Zaire to provide soup kitchens with meals. Partnering with the charity could be a good opportunity for additional exposure for Eden2.

  I picked up the phone and RSVP’d for two to attend the event on Saturday night. Zaire’s administrative assistant provided me with additional information about the charity and emailed me their brochure. She also informed me that they were requesting a ten thousand-dollar contribution to be included as a charity and event sponsor. I told her to count me in, and I’d bring my checkbook with me.

  I went back into the kitchen to let Riley know I had RSVP’d for the both of us. “Did you take care of your tire or will you need a ride to the event?”

  “I had it changed this morning and I actually have a spare in the trunk.” She chuckled. “Thanks for checking. I can meet you there.”

  “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  JADE

  The doorbell rang for the second time. I hurried and washed my hands, drying them on the way to answer the door. I checked the peephole. I took a deep breath and opened the door. Bria came in and handed me my car keys. I led her into the kitchen where I was experimenting with a variety of recipes for Genesis. The countertop was covered with cutting boards with chopped vegetables and herbs, utensils, and note cards. She sat at the island. I placed a dish of ginger salmon in front of her and resumed slicing shallots.

  My hair was tied up in a scarf; I had on a pair of cut-off shorts and a cropped tee. Once I finally rid myself of the headache, I was famished. I showered and decided to stay home and work on my recipes. I had been nibbling while cooking.

  “A phone call would have been nice,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “Can I have a fork?”

  “You know where they are.”

  She got up and grabbed one from the utensil drawer. “Don’t think feeding me excuses you from standing me up for lunch.”

  “I don’t. My head was hurting so bad when we got off the phone. I passed out on the couch for a few hours. When I got up, it was way past lunchtime.”

  “You couldn’t call to say that?”

  “I was just in a quiet space. I came in the kitchen to cook, which is where I do some of my best thinking, and got absorbed in the moment.”

  “That, I get. Cooking does the same thing for me. After all these years, it still provides a source of refuge.”

  “That’s exactly it.”

  I had been in my own private sanctuary in the kitchen, alone with my recipes. I had been mulling over what I wanted to say to Cain and what I thought he might say to me. I hadn’t called back since getting his voicemail earlier in the day.

  “The salmon is delicious.”

  “Is there anything missing?”

  “It’s perfect. What will you serve with it?”

  “I’m thinking a wilted spinach salad.”

  “Maybe consider a bok choy slaw.”

  I turned to face her. “Oh, that could be good, too.”

  “What else are you making over there?”

  “Pomegranate chicken.”

  “That’s different. You are truly in the lab.”

  “It’s really a pomegranate sauce. You can let me know what you think when it’s done.” The doorbell rang and I looked up at Bria. “Can you get that?”

  She returned moments later with Milan in tow. “Hey, Ms. Tipsy,” Milan said in a sing-song tone.

  “Who invited you over?”

  “I didn’t know if you were going to answer the door or not. Milan is my ride home since you decided to inconvenience everyone with your antics last night.”

  “What were you going to do with my keys?”

  “Leave them in the mailbox.”

  “So someone could steal my car?”

  “Getting drunk has its repercussions,” Milan added.
They both had a laugh at my expense.

  “Bria, you asked why I didn’t call? Now you know.”

  “Okay, okay. We’ll cut you some slack. Milan, Jade is in the lab and needs to maintain her creative energy. We can taunt her next time we get together.”

  “Feed me and the taunting ceases.” I handed Milan a fork and a dish with stuffed tomato caprese salad. “Knife, please.”

  Anything to get the yammering to stop. I also handed Bria a knife. “Give me your initial thoughts on if you think something is missing or if there’s an off note.”

  “I don’t know about all of that. I can tell you if it’s good or not good. Bria can give you the chef’s critique.”

  “I’ll take whatever you can offer, Lan.”

  “I do have one question, though. What’s going on with you and Omar? The last time we spoke you mentioned having business to conduct. How did that turn into getting drunk together?”

  “Thanks, Bria.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “Don’t blame Bria. She had to put context around why she had your car and needed a ride. Now I’m asking for context on your hanging out with a man that clearly is interested in you.”

  “We can’t help who’s attracted to us.”

  “Right. But you can limit the access that person has to you.”

  “You don’t honestly think that none of your male friends are attracted to you.”

  “I’m not saying that. However, Omar is very open and flirtatious with you. There’s a difference. He is coloring outside of the lines. He wants to be more than friends and you may be giving him the wrong impression.”

  “How can I be, Lan? I tell him I have a man. Hell, he knows I have a man. And what both of you seem to forget is that I’m not going to act on any advances from Omar.”

  “So he is making advances?” Bria finally chimed in.

  “You two are going to drive me crazy. Since when am I in need of all of this counsel? Is this supposed to be an intervention?” I started laughing.

  “If you need it to be,” Bria replied.