Slices

by Tamara Black

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  NOTE

  THANKS

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-FOUR - Tanesha

  THIRTY-FIVE - Tony

  Reviews

  THANKS

  ABOUT AUTHOR

  SLICES

  BWWM Romance by Tamara Black

  Newly revised third edition 2018

  Copyright © 2018 Tamara Black

  All rights reserved.

  For lovers of all colors…

  This novel contains adult language, situations, and themes.

  Thanks for reading.

  ONE

  Tony

  The sour smell of the dough in the walk-in cooler made my stomach turn. All the alcohol the night before had been fun at the time, but I was paying the price that morning at work. As the manager of a local Pizza Pizza franchise, I had quite a few responsibilities and had to come in no matter what.

  Samantha, one of my better workers, opened the cooler door.

  “She’s here,” she said.

  “I’m coming,” I replied. “Can you count the rest of these to make sure we have enough for the dinner rush tonight? I don’t want to run out again and serve under-proofed dough.”

  “Sure, boss,” she said, smiling.

  As I walked past her, I tried my hardest not to brush up against her body. She was just my type with curves in all the right places, but after two mistakes in the past, I no longer dated my employees. Losing a good worker just wasn’t worth the temporary pleasure.

  “It’s cold in there,” she said.

  “You can handle it," I said, flashing her a smile.

  She smiled back before closing the door. I turned and walked to my office in the back of the shop. While we didn’t have a lot of spare room to work, we cleared over a hundred thousand dollars a week – in pizza alone. My other enterprise did much better.

  “Hello,” I said in a cheerful voice as I walked into the office.

  An African-American woman sat in the chair in front of my desk. She looked up and smiled as I walked around and took a seat behind my desk. Papers, including the next week’s schedule, overwhelmed my workspace, but I had a system.

  “It smells so good in here,” she said, glancing around.

  “You’ll be sick of pizza within two weeks if you get the job,” I joked in a serious tone.

  She smiled polititely.

  "We're looking for an assistant manager to open the store in the morning,” I continued, picking up her application. “Do you have any pizza experience?”

  “No, but I’m willing to learn," she said.

  “Okay, okay.” I scanned the rest of her application. “You can work any hours. Good.”

  “Actually. My children get out of school at 4 p.m., so if I could get off before then, that would be great.”

  Wow, she’s asking for a lot, I thought, looking up at her. Twenty other people – most more qualified – were also up for the position. The job posting had only been out for a couple days, so I expected even more. She stared back at me without any fear, not breaking eye-contact. Can I trust this woman? That’s what I really need, a woman who I can trust as assistant manager. I glanced down at her application.

  “Sure,” I said, trying to sound convincing. “We need someone to open the store in the morning. Can you not work any nights?”

  “I could if I had enough notice and got a babysitter,” she said.

  “Good,” I said, sitting up and setting her application down. “When can you start? I’d like to train you for a week or two on how to properly open the store, but you also need to know how to run all the different stations.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “Stations?”

  “Yeah, like making the pizzas, taking the order, cutting and boxing the pizzas, and so on.”

  She nodded. “I can start tonight if I can make a call to the babysitter.”

  “That would be great," I said, impressed with her enthusiasm. "Here’s a packet of forms. You can go in the back prep area and fill them out while you’re making your call. What size shirt do you wear?”

  “Excuse me?” she asked in a slightly offended tone.

  “For your work shirt.”

  “Oh." She smiled. "A medium is fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Her eyes widened as she stared at me.

  “I meant smaller, not larger," I said.

  “The medium is fine," she insisted.

  “Okay, there should be one in the back. Go fill out the paperwork. I need to make a call.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she walked out of my office. Don’t do this, I scolded myself, unable to resist her charms. There’s something about her. While I couldn’t put my finger on it exactly, she exuded something special, and I wanted to be around her more. My cell rang, dragging me back to reality. I glanced down at the number on the screen. My heart sank immediately.

  The Colorado Weed Mafia, known as CWM, were the biggest players in the underground marijuana business in the state, and they weren't too happy with me at the moment. I picked up the phone and swiped to answer.

  “Hello, this is Tony,” I said.

  “No names, man. We already told you,” a voice with a thick cuban accent said. “You got our money for this week?”

  “Not yet. I’m getting rid of the last of it before I re-up.”

  “You’re late,” he said, sounding disappointed.

  Just that was enough to strike fear in me. I swallowed a lump in my throat.

  “I’m sorry, but…”

  “No fucking excuses," he snapped, interrupting me. "Make it right. We’ll talk tonight.”

  He disconnected the call.

  Fuck! I thought. Outside my office, the phones began to ring one after another as our lunch rush began. While I wanted to sit and think everything out, try to come up with a way to escape my mother's debts, I had to get to work.

  “Time to make the pizzas,” I said loudly as I walked up front.

  “We’re getting slammed,” Samantha said. “What should we do?”

  “This is a normal lunch,” I said. “Go cover the counter for me, okay?”

  She nodded, rushing off toward the line of phones on the front counter.

  “Tom, you’re making pies.” I pointed at him. “Jeff and Eddie will handle deliveries. Sally, you’re switch today.”

  “Again?” she complained.

  “You know why,” I said, referring to her inability to master any one station. “I got the ovens.”

  I headed to the area we took the pizzas out, cut them, and boxed them up. From my vantage point, I could see clearly into the lobby. It gave me advance warning of problems.

  “We got this, people,” I said in a voice that belied my true feelings.

  Tanesha, my latest new hire, asked, “What should I be doing?”

  “Do you learn by watching or doing?”

  “By doing," she answered.

  “Okay, here y
ou go,” I said, handing her the metal paddle to pick up the pizza and transfer it to the stainless steel table to cut.

  She grabbed it, quickly figuring out the process on her own.

  “How many slices should I cut it into?" she asked.

  “It’s right there,” I said, pointing to a laminated poster on the wall separating us from the front counter area.

  “Got it," she said, reading the poster.

  I stepped back and watched as she tentatively cut the pizza.

  “You got two more pies about to come out,” I said. “Speed it up a bit.”

  She finished cutting the pizza with two tiny pieces and two super large.

  “I messed it up," she said.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Close the box and get the next one.”

  “I need change!” Samantha yelled from the counter.

  “You okay here?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Tanesha replied, not looking up as she cut another pie.

  “I’ll be back. You got this.”

  I walked to the back and opened the safe in the floor that contained a bank bag full of rolled quarters, dimes, nickels and pennies. I brought two of each to the front, taking the same amount of bills from Samantha. On the way back to safe, I stopped at the end of the ovens to check on Tanesha.

  “You doing okay?” I asked.

  “Great,” she said, sliding another pie off the paddle and into a box.

  With a few quick rolls of the cutter, she had a perfectly cut pizza in front of her.

  “Good job,” I said, walking away. “I’ll be back.”

  By the end of the day, she had learned the basics of every single station. We sat in my office as I waited for the night manager to arrive.

  “You can be here at seven in the morning to help me open?” I asked.

  “Yeah, not a problem as long as I can leave by three.”

  “Gee, any other demands Ms. It’s-my-first-day?” I teased.

  She smiled, perfect white teeth showing.

  “I just meant…”

  She stopped talking.

  “I know, it’s okay. You did wonderfully.”

  Stop flirting with her, I warned myself silently as we looked at each other.

  “Well, I should go,” she said, standing up. “My daughter and son are waiting.”

  I raised an open hand in the air.

  “See you in the morning, Tanesha.”

  “Thanks, Tony.”

  After she left, I finished tallying the reports for my morning shift while waiting for Tad, the assistant manager who covered the night shift, to show-up.

  TWO

  Tony

  That afternoon, as I chilled while waiting for my night shift making deliveries, I heard a knock at my apartment door. Shit. I sat up on the couch. They knocked again, this time louder.

  “Hold on,” I yelled, standing up.

  When I opened the door, my stomach turned. Bullet, a tall Native American man who let his fists do the talking, stood in front of me.

  “Can I help you?” I asked.

  He pushed me inside then stepped into my apartment without saying a word. After shutting the door, he glanced around the room, taking it all in.

  “I don’t have anything to give you right now,” I said, sitting down. “You’re welcome to any of my possessions."

  I watched as his giant frame crossed the room. He stopped on the other side of my wood coffee table and stared down at me with menacing eagle eyes, his long, raven black hair slicked back and in a pony-tail.

  “Your debt is piling up, and you need to move more weed," he said. "Understand?”

  “I’m trying, man. If I start to move more through the store, the owners are going to get suspicious and call the police. Neither of us want that to happen, right?”

  He glared at me, not showing any emotions. That scared me more than if he'd been angry.

  “Look, Bullet, you have a mother too, right? What would you do if she owed a lot of money? You would try your hardest, right? That’s what I’m doing, man.”

  “Faster,” he said then turned to leave. “Come get this quarter pound for a new run tonight.”

  I sighed. Even with weed legal in Colorado, I could do time if caught transporting and selling it in large quantities without official paperwork. On the other hand, my delivery service for high-end clients made piles of money – just never enough to pay my debts.

  “Let’s go,” he barked.

  After getting to my feet, I followed him downstairs to the apartment building parking lot. He stood next to a giant Chevy Suburban with tinted windows all around. When I reached him, I got into the back of the SUV and retrieved a gym bag full of high quality marijuana.

  Bullet got into the vehicle and left without saying another word. He didn’t need to remind me of the seriousness of my mother’s debts to the local casino. I took the gym bag to my car and stuffed it in the trunk under my spare tire.

  My neon Pizza Pizza lights on top would decrease my chances of being pulled over while delivering product to clients all over the county. Still, I took a risk every night I went out – not to mention it was tiring to work days and nights every day.

  When I arrived at Pizza Pizza, I parked in back. Inside, the smells and noises hit me. I don’t want to be here right now, I thought as I opened the door separating the lobby from the back area. Even after two cups of coffee, I could barely keep my eyes open.

  I fell asleep with the alarm set for six thirty in the morning so I could repeat the whole process over again. Until I paid off my mother’s debts, I had to keep hustling as hard as I could. The CWM gang charged me outrageous interest rates that put credit card companies to shame.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  The alarm on my phone sounded. I reached over on my nightstand and blindly tapped at it with my eyes closed. A tiny voice in the back of my mind kept me from falling back asleep. I groaned as I stood up and shuffled to my kitchen to make coffee.

  I rushed through the rest of my morning routine after having half a cup, but I quickly got behind in time. On the drive over, I thought about Tanesha. She seemed a good person to me, but I wasn’t sure if I could trust her with the truth.

  When I pulled into the Pizza Pizza parking lot, I saw her car, an old, silver Toyota highlighted with rust spots. I parked next to her. When I got out of the car, I could see my breath in the air. I hate the cold, I thought, hoping the night shift hadn’t turned down the heat too low.

  “You weren’t waiting long, were you?” I asked Tanesha.

  She shook her head as she walked over. “A bit, but it’s okay. You look tired.”

  “That bad, huh?” I asked then smiled.

  We looked at each other awkwardly for a moment.

  “Let’s get inside,” I said finally. “It’s cold.”

  “Yeah, I think the heater is going out on my car,” she said.

  “Oh, yeah? Is it not blowing or just blowing cold?”

  I walked to the back door and opened it with my key. As I held it open, she stepped inside.

  “It only blows hot air when I press on the gas.”

  “Sounds like you’re low on anti-freeze,” I said confidently as I went in and stomped my books on the carpet in front of the door.

  “Yeah?”

  “I can check it later when I go out for a smoke break,” I said.

  “We get to smoke?” she asked. “I don’t get to much anymore with my kids around.”

  “Breaks are okay as long as you’re not out there your whole shift. I mean, it can get stressful around here sometimes.”

  “That why you’re a smoker?” she asked point-blank.

  I took off my coat and tossed it on a stainless steel prep-table.

  “How did you know?” I asked.

  “I saw the stickers in your car window,” she said.

  “A real Nancy Drew," I said, smiling.

  She laughed. “A black Nancy Drew.”

  “Ooh, there’s an idea for a new series,” I
said. “But yeah, I smoke. It’s legal now.”

  “Legal to buy it and smoke it but not sell it.”

  Why would she say that? I asked as paranoia crept into my mind.

  “Yeah…” I let my voice trail off to change the subject. “You ready to make some dough?”

  She nodded. “Sure. Should I take notes?”

  “It’s all written down and easy to follow.”

  “Great. What do you want me to do?”

  As we worked, putting all flour, yeast, oil and water into the giant metal mixing bowl, I forgot about being so tired as she lifted my mood considerably. You know those people who are just fun to be around no matter what the situation? That was her.

  “Cut the cheese, huh?” she asked, giggling.

  I laughed. “No, not like that.”

  She put me at ease as we ground fresh mozzarella and muenster cheese for the day’s pies.

  “I like that you guys use fresh ingredients," she noted.

  “As much as we can. It makes it taste so much better. Have you had our pizza before?”

  “No, to be honest, I can’t afford it trying to raise two children on my own.”

  “Oh,” I said, realizing for the first time she was a single mother. “What are their names?”

  “My children?” she asked, perhaps surprised I continued along the personal lines.

  “Yeah.”

  “Destiny and Michael. She is four and he is five years old.”

  “Wow. You don’t look a day over twenty-one,” I said.

  “Aww. Thank you. They’re a handful. And expensive, which is why I had to get this job. I work from home at night, writing articles for websites.”