WG2E All-For-Indies Anthologies: Viva La Valentine Edition

by Scott, D. D.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, sounding quite sincere.

  “I’m not.” Jan gazed at him, bit her lip and turned away. Maybe that was a too forward.

  “Okay.” He rested his chin on his hand, a bemused smile on his full sensual mouth. His lips begged to be kissed. A primitive warning sounded in her brain. To get her mind off his mouth, she asked, “Do you have someone to serve tomorrow night?”

  “No. I figured I’d make it buffet style and let everyone serve themselves. It’s not a formal dinner, just a couple of my clients, a few potential ones and their dates. I guess we could go out, but I want the night to be unhurried and relaxed.” He paused for a second and smiled again as he popped open another Red Bull. “I appreciate you doing this. You come highly recommended. Ron Scott mentioned you one day at lunch, and suggested I call you.”

  “He’s my best friend’s husband, so it wasn’t exactly a professional reference.”

  “Well, he told me you could throw down in the kitchen. That was enough to convince me.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate your confidence.”

  His gaze followed her every move as she maneuvered around his spacious, modern kitchen.

  “Would you like to join us tomorrow night?”

  Shocked by his offer, she stammered, “I – oh – I couldn’t.”

  “Why not? Then I could introduce you as my personal chef. It would be good for your business. Most of these guys are loaded.”

  “That’s nice of you, Mac, but I think it’s better if I just leave you some of my cards.”

  “Okay, but meeting people in person always makes a better impression. I think you’d enjoy yourself. Besides, I like your company.”

  She wiped her sweaty palms on the sides of her skirt. His invitation sounded more personal than business. Romantic attention was as foreign to her as ancient Carthaginian cuisine. This handsome man was the complete opposite of Robert’s paunchy middle-aged colleagues. Mac appeared to be at least ten years her junior, and he lived in a gorgeous body.

  With the meat, pasta and vegetable dishes done, she started on dessert. They made small talk about everything from religion to Atlanta traffic. Mac didn’t extend the invitation again until she had cleaned up and repacked her utensils.

  “I wish you’d think twice about joining us. I’ll be the only one without a date, and I’m the host. We should be getting started around eight o’clock.” He wrote a check, placed it in her hand and held it a bit longer than necessary. Strangely she had no desire to pull away. This is definitely more personal than business. “Thank you, Mac, but I make it a policy to keep my business and personal lives separate.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” He licked his bottom lip and never took his gaze from her eyes.

  “Let me know how everything went. I’d better get going now.”

  “All right. I understand. It was a pleasure, Jan Davis. Hope I’ll see you again soon.” He watched her walk all the way down the hallway to the elevator.

  Once he closed the door to his apartment, she dragged in a long breath. I need to talk to somebody about this.

  • • •

  Anxious to share what had happened with Mac, the next night Jan waited for Verna outside the restaurant for our regular Friday dinner. Of her three friends, she and Verna were the closest. They shared everything, and Jan could always count on her to be honest. Since the restaurant wouldn’t seat incomplete parties, they had to wait for Kathy and Noreen. She and Verna squeezed into a corner of the crowded lobby.

  “I need to tell you something before the others get here.”

  Verna folded her arms across her ample chest. “Sure. What’s up?”

  “Tell me what you think about this. Last night I cooked for a dinner party for Mac Sinclair, one of Ron’s associates. He stayed right there in the kitchen with me the whole time. At first I thought he just wanted to see how I fixed everything. You know how some people want to make sure you don’t poison them. We talked a bit, but most of the time he sat there watching me.”

  “So? What’s wrong with that?” Verna asked with a curious frown.

  “I caught him staring at my legs, and realized he wasn’t hanging around to pick up cooking tips. It made me a nervous wreck.”

  “So did he say anything out of line?”

  “No, not out of line, but he invited me to the party. He said it would be good for business because the guests are rich, big name athletes.”

  Verna raised an eyebrow. “So?”

  “I don’t think he wanted it to be all business. He said he’d be the only one with no date.”

  Verna laughed. “Don’t say the word like it’s so offensive.”

  “What?” Jan whispered, hoping nobody in the lobby had overheard. “Why are you laughing?”

  “So is he a leper or something?”

  “Lord, no! He’s the finest man I’ve seen in a long time. That’s what’s got me so –”

  “I think flustered is the word you’re looking for?”

  “Yes. No. Oh, I don’t know. Verna, He’s only in his early thirties. Why would he be interested in me?”

  “You underestimate yourself, Jan. I’ll bet he thinks you’re his age. Did you refuse?”

  “I haven’t been out with a man other than Robert in twenty-five years. I wouldn’t even know how to act.”

  For twenty-five years Jan had been in a marriage that died a slow and painful death. Although Robert was a decent man and a good provider who’d remained faithful, he’d been emotionally distant. Nurturing the intimate side of their marriage was unimportant to him, and he proved it regularly by forgetting her birthday, their anniversary and even Mother’s Day. Whenever she voiced her disappointment, he would stuff cash into a card thinking it would pacify her. He rarely took her out. Romance after the wedding had been pointless to him.

  Kathy and Noreen came in the door looking as distinctive as night and day. Kathy always wore something Afrocentric with her head wrapped in colorful fabric, while Noreen looked every bit the Vogue model. Verna waved to get their attention. Once the hostess had seated them, Verna announced, “Jan has something she needs to share. Go ahead, girl.”

  Jan gave her the evil eye.

  “What’s up?” Noreen asked. “Come on, spit it out.”

  “Okay. Just promise me you won’t laugh.” She told the entire story but didn’t mention Mac’s age then waited for their reactions.

  “What does he look like?” Noreen asked. “And how much money does he make?” The resident expert on single life, she’d never been married and delighted in being unattached.

  Kathy shot her a disgusted glare. “When are women in our community going to understand those aren’t the two most important issues in life?”

  Noreen rolled her eyes. “They should be. Only a fool wants a broke, ugly man.”

  When they finally stopped laughing, Jan answered. “He’s very good looking, and a body that could boil water, and works as a sports management agent.”

  “So what’s the problem?” Noreen asked.

  Verna answered her question. “He’s only about thirty-five, Noreen.”

  Noreen’s face lit up. “Aw, sookie sookie now! You know how I feel about those young tender morsels. “There’s nothing better than waking up next to a healthy, robust, young brother.”

  Kathy pinched the bridge of her nose as if she’d suddenly developed a migraine. Noreen’s preoccupation with sex irritated her. “For God’s sake, Noreen. Can’t we ever have a conversation without you stepping into the gutter?”

  “Honestly, I’m afraid,” Jan confessed. “I haven’t been with anyone except Robert since I was twenty-one. Singleland has changed a lot since then. I’m way out of my league here.”

  The mood at the table instantly changed. Verna reached across and took her hand. These were the times her friends were at their best.

  “Honey, you just have to step out there. Once you take the first step, it won’t be so scary. He sounds decent. It wouldn’t hurt to
see him once. The dinner party would be a safe place to get to know him, since other people will be there.”

  “So you don’t think there’s anything wrong with seeing a man so much younger than I am?”

  “That’s the new Hollywood trend. Besides, you’ll need someone strong around to fan you when you start having hot flashes.” Noreen ran her fingers through her expensive weaved hair and laughed.

  “What time is the dinner party supposed to start?” Verna asked, checking her watch.

  “He said around eight.”

  “So call him, girl,” Noreen urged. “It’s just after seven now.”

  The idea sent Jan’s stomach into a double flip. “What would I say?”

  “Just ask him if he got a date. If he says no, tell him you’d like to join him, if it’s okay.”

  “So what if he says he asked someone else? Then I’ll feel like an idiot.”

  Kathy, the quietest and most serious one, never spoke frivolously. Jan valued her opinion. “Say something pleasant like, “Good. I hope everything goes well.”

  “Take my word for it,” Noreen reassured her. “If he had someone, he would’ve asked her before last night. Call him.”

  They prodded her on until Jan rose from the table and took her cell phone into the ladies room. After she took a few deep breaths, she dialed and waited for him to pick up.

  “Sinclair.” His husky tone sent a shiver up her spine.

  “Hi, Mac. It’s Jan Davis. I’m not pulling you away from your guests, am I?”

  “No one’s here yet. I hope you’re calling to say you’re coming tonight.”

  Jan exhaled a silent sigh of relief. “Yes. I’d like to join you, if you still want me to come.”

  “How soon can you get here?” The expectancy in his voice relieved her, and sent a spark of excitement through her at the prospect.

  “I’m over near Lenox Mall. I can be there in about twenty minutes.”

  “What’s your favorite wine?”

  “I don’t drink, but a sparkling water with lemon will do just fine.”

  “I’ll meet you at the door with a glass.”

  “Okay. I have to say goodbye to my girlfriends, and then I’ll be leaving.”

  “Ring the downstairs bell when you get here, and I’ll buzz you in.”

  “Well?” Verna asked with her palms raised in curiosity as Jan approached the table.

  “He said he’ll be waiting for me at the door. Pray for me, ladies.” Jan grabbed her purse and left the restaurant with her stomach flipping like she was riding the Goliath coaster at Six Flags.

  Her nervousness grew as she drove. Why in the world had I let them talk me into stepping so far out of my comfort zone? She parked in a visitor’s space outside Mac’s building, retouched her makeup in the visor mirror and popped a breath strip into her mouth.

  The buzzer sounded as soon as she rang the bell in the lobby. Just as he’d promised, when she stepped off the elevator, Mac was leaning in the doorway holding a glass of sparkling water.

  “I’m really glad you reconsidered.” Incredibly white teeth gleamed in contrast to his cocoa-colored skin when he smiled. “Come in and make yourself comfortable.”

  Soft music drifted in from the great room, but Jan didn’t hear any conversation. “Am I the first one here?” She looked around for any signs of life.

  “Uh huh. That’ll give us a few minutes to talk before they arrive.”

  The black silk shirt he wore clung just enough to show off his cut upper body. It took every ounce of willpower to keep her from staring at the wisps of dark hair peeking out at the neck. A thin gold chain sparkled against his skin.

  She followed him into the contemporary great room accented by an impressive collection of modern art and statues. If I hadn’t been so rattled by his attention the other night, I wouldn’t have missed these details. He motioned for her to sit on a huge sectional sofa.

  “Is everything all set up?” Jan wondered if he had someone to help him with the food.

  “Yes. I warmed the pans in the oven with the covers on, and put them in the aluminum trays with an inch of water. Then I lit the Sterno cans underneath.” He repeated her instructions word for word.

  “I’m impressed. Just let me take a look to see if there’s anything else you need.”

  Mac took her into the dining room where fresh flowers adorned the table. Real china, silverware and cloth napkins were arranged neatly on the sideboard underneath a wall of windows that offered a panoramic view of the twinkling Buckhead skyline.

  Jan raised her eyebrows in approval. “Good job. You’ve obviously done this before.”

  He smiled. “So, now that I’ve passed the test, can we sit and talk?”

  They discussed their hometowns. She hailed from New York. Mac called suburban Dallas home. Just as he started sharing more of his personal life, the doorbell rang.

  “Show time.” Mac rose and crossed the room with a nonchalant grace that dazzled her. He pressed the buzzer to allow his guests to come upstairs. One by one, huge men with necks the size of tree trunks accompanied by tall, beautiful modelesque women joined them. A woman wearing a conspicuous waist-length weave and too much makeup hung on the arm of a mountain-sized man. She sported what Noreen called an “Atlanticure” – a manicure of bright purple nail polish with a zebra striped design. Mac introduced them as Marcus Holt and Shaquita somebody-or-other. They spoke and headed straight to the bar. Jan marveled at how similar the couples looked, with the exception being Rondelle Moore, a basketball player whose girth was only half as wide as the other men. Another tall, slender female clone with hair cascading down her back stood at his side.

  It seemed all of the men knew each other, and for the next few minutes the conversation perked up. They discussed sports, contracts, money and cars. All of the guests appeared to be in their twenties or early thirties. None of the women talked to Jan except Pam Johnson, the wife of the Falcon’s wide receiver, Ken Johnson. The others were too busy boasting about the men, the men’s money and the jewelry the men had bought them. Pam and Jan discussed Pam’s children and her idea for starting a business.

  Mac called them to the dining room and the guest served themselves. Jan ended up sitting next to a woman named Missy, who promptly made it known that she was a singer struggling to break into the hip-hop music scene. She kept asking what everyone did for a living. The moment Jan said, “I’m a personal chef,” she simply said, “Oh,” and turned away.

  Shaquita had successive glasses of Courvoisier and was already woozy. She kept laughing way too loud, which promoted Mac to eye her several times. He whispered something to Marcus, who promptly took the glass out of the tipsy beauty’s hand a few seconds later.

  The last available morsel of food disappeared, and several of the men showered Jan with praise. Just as he’d predicted, two of them asked for her card. With dinner done, Mac changed the music to an up tempo song. “Dance with me.” He took Jan’s hand and drew her toward the center of the glossy hardwood living room floor.

  Jan had always been pretty confident on the dance floor, but when she noticed Shaquita and one of the other clone dates whispering and staring in their direction, her confidence fizzled. Shaquita dragged Marcus onto the floor and did a raunchy booty dance that would’ve put Jan in traction. Suddenly the awareness that she was old enough to be the mother of every person in the room hit her like a locomotive.

  “I’m calling it a night, Mac,” she said, following him to the sound system after the song ended.

  “Can you wait just a minute? I want to talk to you about something before you go.”

  “Sure. Let me say goodnight to Ken and Pam. I’ll meet you at the door.”

  Mac stood at the front door and reached for her hand. “You did an excellent job. Everyone loved the food. I’m sorry I couldn’t spend much time with you tonight. I had to stroke those huge egos, you know,” he said, still holding her hand as they walked to the elevator. “I’d like to see you again, Jan.
Can I call you? Maybe we can do something Friday night.”

  “I’d like that,” she said against her better judgment.

  Before the doors closed, he bent down and kissed her cheek. In the privacy of the empty elevator, Jan shook her head and tried to snap out of her romantic daze.

  What was I thinking? I should’ve said no. Dating a man so young could be considered cradle robbing. How would I explain this to my daughters?

  Chapter Two

  Jan had made up her mind to tell her daughters about the date the next evening when they came for dinner. How they’d receive it was up for grabs. Val and Bobbi always had conflicting opinions on practically every issue. Certainly this one wouldn’t be any different.

  Both girls lived on their own, and Jan didn’t get to spend as much time with them as she would’ve liked. Val, the youngest, lived in the dorms at Georgia State. Bobbi had been sharing an apartment with a girlfriend for two years since she graduated from college.

  The girls were saddened but not surprised when she’d told them of the pending divorce, since they were old enough to recognize it, they had witnessed how their father’s disinterest had battered their mother’s self-esteem. Both girls were still on good terms with him, and he and Val kept close contact.

  During her marriage to Robert, Jan tried countless times to make him understand that she needed romance and attention, yet her words fell on deaf ears. Several times she dragged him to counseling, and when the counselors told him that his wife’s requests were natural needs for a woman, he made an effort for a week or two and soon forgot about it. He claimed to love her but just couldn’t bring himself to give her what she needed. Eventually Jan started to believe there was something very wrong with her.

  Over the years Jan invested ridiculous amounts of time, effort and cash into everything from self-help books to the “Victoria’s Secretcure.” No matter what she did, she couldn’t stir up any real passion in the man. Nothing worked for long, and they settled into a joyless boredom that suffocated her for twenty-five years.