by Ava Bleu
“I digress. As I was saying, she met every single requirement I could ever want in a woman. Why, as king I had men give me advice every day about how to run my kingdom but my wife was my greatest advisor, even though she could not officially hold that station. She was very good at seeing the true character of people. She was very good at getting to the heart of a situation. With very little information she could figure out almost any—”
“Intelligent?”
“Yes, very. And she had this way of getting her point across and it would not be offensive.”
“Funny? Clever?”
“Very. And a way of cutting to the heart of a matter.”
“Quick witted? Impatient?”
“Infinitely. I am a large man, sometimes I frighten people simply by my size, but she—”
“Wasn’t intimidated at all?”
“Not in the least. I was a king, but to her . . .”
“You were just a man?”
Taka looked at her and nodded, “Yes. And it was . . . wonderful. She was my lover and my best friend. I loved her boundlessly. I cannot describe how difficult it was to lose her. Losing her was like losing my leg.”
“Did you say losing her was like losing your leg? Come on, King, surely you can come up with an analogy more romantic than that. That’s like saying losing her was like losing your horse or your wagon: something sturdy and boring.”
“I am no poet. I am clumsy sometimes with my words. I only mean to say, I cannot stand tall without her. I cannot move forward without her support. And much like a missing limb the place she used to occupy in my life throbs with memory of what once was, wails with the pain of what will never be, racks my whole being with quakes of sorrow that never still.” He sighed as the breeze crossed his face. “But occasionally the pain quiets when I am out of my stone and I feel a moment of happiness. Today, the pain is almost forgotten. Until I speak of it, that is.”
He looked at Violet and she gave him a gentle smile in return. His heart sang.
“Thank you for today, Violet. Will you allow me to do something for you? In gratitude and celebration?”
Her eyes widened in surprise but then she shrugged and he bounded up easily, saying only, “I will be right back. Wait for me here.”
He almost couldn’t contain his excitement as he went off over the green grass in search of his treasure.
Violet watched Taka make his way in large strides over the grass and chided herself for being struck still by the sight of him, tall and strong and so amazingly male. She was still tingling from the way Taka had spoken to her, looking at her like she was the most precious gem in the world. Sometimes during their conversation she would feel his eyes on her and know desire burned in him. Other times she would catch him in a look so gentle and searching it made her want to cry. At one point she was absolutely sure he would reach out, stroke the hair from her face.
Get a grip, Violet! He’s a genie!
She had to keep saying it to herself over and over or she would forget, as she was looking at him more and more like a regular man every minute. His description about the loss of his wife, well, it almost did her in.
This would not do for either of them. If they didn’t rein in the lust this would only end in heartache when he disappeared from her life in a plume of smoke. He was already mourning his wife; Violet didn’t miss the fact that the poor man superimposed all of Violet’s qualities onto the memory of his betrothed. She almost felt bad for his wife the way he so obviously wanted Violet. It was as if he couldn’t allow himself to want Violet unless he somehow wrapped her in the same paper as his deceased wife. It was tragic, really.
She couldn’t help a malicious smile of a conquering heroine.
She leaned back on the blanket, soaking in the sights, when her genie finally came back into view. He strode toward her with a look of satisfaction on his face and his hands full of flowers, their stems still crusted with clumps of soil.
“What’s going on?” She laughed as his face opened with happiness upon seeing her.
“My wife used to love me to braid flowers into her hair. I am going to do that for you now.”
“What?” Violet croaked as he came toward her with the flowers. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am more than serious, woman. I know you received flowers yesterday, but they were from Him. These are from me. Now lean back against me and do not give me a hard time.”
Violet blinked as suddenly he was behind her on his knees, dropping the little pile of flowers beside him to begin to probe her hair.
“Whoa, wait a minute. It’s a nice thought but those flowers are still dirty.”
He picked up one, brushing the soil from the end. “I needed to retain the stem for the braiding.”
“And what do you know about braiding? I don’t know a single man who knows how to braid hair.”
“Questioning my manhood? That will not deter me as I am more than confident of my manhood and I am sure the pleasure you receive will cease all objection. Another lesson from my mother. My father would have bellowed throughout the hills had he known.” Violet watched as he methodically removed the dirt from the stems. The flowers looked like violets. He remembered.
She scavenged in her purse for some antibacterial hand gel to no avail. By the time he was combing his big, soil-smudged fingers through her perfumed, relaxed hair, she was too overcome by surprise and the romance of the gesture to protest. She allowed her shoulders to rest against his chest. Who braided flowers into anyone’s hair these days? But it was certainly nice to lean back against him. His scent was spicy and earthy and entirely too pleasant. She could lie like that all day.
His large fingers were barely a whisper over her scalp. He worked quickly, thoroughly, and she was drunk with the sweetness of it all. She could get used to this.
He came around to look at her, twisting his head this way and that to see his progress. She smiled to match his. “Bella,” he said kissing the tips of two fingers.
“Stop it. You keep telling me I’m beautiful I’m going to have to kiss you to shut you up.” And, she meant it, though she was horrified she’d allowed her inside thoughts to come outside. He didn’t seem to mind if his flush of joy was any indication.
“Then I will tell you of your beauty all night.”
Flirt. Violet laughed and dug around in her purse for her mirror. She hadn’t had her hair braided since before her own initiation into womanhood: the chemical relaxing of her natural curls at fourteen.
“Goodness.” The colorful blossoms were woven loosely but complemented her skin tone. Eventually they would fall out; the straight strands were not able to hold a flower like her natural hair would have been. But he took care to utilize the stems to hold them, tying them in as well. For now it was lovely.
She twisted her head to and fro, enraptured by the simple beauty of a few flowers. “These are really beautiful, Taka. Where did you find them?”
“I walked all around this park and I could not find a single worthy blossom so finally I went into the hothouse and found just what I was looking for. And if the jealousy on the faces of the others was any indication, I found the best blooms. All those people were just walking around looking, none with the fortitude to make up their minds. Well, I had no problem picking my favorites: violets just as we had in mother Africa.”
Violet snapped the mirror closed and looked at his handsome, clueless face. “You mean the display in the conservatory?”
“Yes, the hothouse around the bend.”
It only took about half a second to determine what he had done.
She stood and gathered the blanket, speaking to him gently. “Taka, I think we need to go now. Hurry, please.” But she was not quite quick enough as, alas, she spied two men looking their way: one in shorts and flip-flops with a scowl on his face and the other in an official parks outfit complete with badge. The flip-flop man pointed at Taka and Violet turned to her friendly giant with one command.
“Taka, run
.”
“What?”
“Run!”
She took off for the car, a sideways glance confirming the guard was taking chase. But soon enough the massive form of a running genie blocked that view, striding beside her and then passing, kicking up dirt along the way. She was about to curse him for leaving her in the dust when he came to a skidding halt at the car and opened his two hands to her, tilted toward the sky in a classic baseball catcher stance. She responded by lobbing the car keys in an overhand toss he caught effortlessly. By the time she reached the car the driver’s door was unlocked and open, waiting for her, the key in the ignition and the engine idling, and the genie was in the passenger seat. He’d even belted himself in!
She tossed the blanket on the back seat, buckled, and made a magnificent screech peeling out of the parking lot. One look in the rearview at the perturbed arm-folded stance of the indignant pedestrian told her the two men had giving up chase very shortly after its start.
“What a run.” Taka breathed like he’d just taken a light morning jog. “I haven’t had a good run in a long while; feels good to these rusty limbs,” he said, breathing heavily beside her.
She checked her mirror and saw the guard watching them, a little notepad and pencil in his hands jotting down her identity. She didn’t have the heart to tell Taka that her license plate was as good as a honing device. Surely it would take them at least a day to track her down if they were so inclined, and by that time the genie would be safe in his stone. She panted out the exhaustion of a woman unused to running, managing to fog up her rearview mirror and drive at the same time as he continued without a care.
“But I do not understand. Why did we run? I only picked flowers. I thought you said the nature was for us to enjoy.”
“To look at, yes, not to steal,” she said making a herculean effort to get her breathing under control. She really should start exercising, or something. “I’ll have to send them a check or a note of apology or a basket of flowers. Okay, maybe flowers is a bad idea.”
“I do not steal,” he said indignantly. “I saw others scuffing the grass with their bicycles, drinking freely from the fountain. How is it you accuse me of theft?”
“Let me put it this way,” Violet blew air over her perspiring forehead. “What if a neighboring village had a bunch of lovely flowers that caught your eye?”
“If the rotten scoundrels who neighbored me ever came upon the ability to grow any living item worth my interest they should send me a scroll of thanks for noticing and a mule with a bow tied around its neck as a gift for my magnanimity.”
“Obviously no love lost between you and your neighbors. So, in that case, what if you just cleaned out all of their flowerbeds and took their flowers as your own? Wouldn’t that start a little trouble?”
Hesitation, then: “Perhaps I should send a note of apology. You should have told me. I would have explained my error man to man; we did not need to run as if we’d done wrong. It was an honest mistake.”
“Well, maybe for someone who is unaware of how civilized society works but I couldn’t take the risk that you could explain yourself without getting yourself sent to the loony bin. And, there’s the fact that I have one wish left and I cannot make it with you in jail or being taken down by two guys in a park. What if they’d decided on a little rough justice? They could have pinned you down until the police came to take you away. They could have pinned us both down and taken the flowers back, and I really like these flowers. They could have . . .”
Violet stopped her rambling as the visual of the two men trying to take down her genie filled her head. Any way she sliced it, it didn’t compute. In fact, the notion of the two ice cream soft men overcoming her king was so ridiculous it was laughable. She looked over to Taka and found he was doing just that, trying to hide laughter behind quivering lips, his personal attempt at humility. She lasted only two seconds before they both burst into raucous laughter.
Finally Violet composed herself enough to wipe the tears of mirth from her eyes. “Taka, you are fun to be around.”
“As are you, Violet Jackson.” He sobered and did the same. They watched the streets pass and when he spoke again the humor was gone, replaced by thoughtful introspection. “In my day it was common to go to battle and take what you wanted from another village or kingdom. It was how we grew our own. But there were rules to battle. Any kingdom I had designs on knew my intent, knew to prepare a defense. We did not ravage women or kill babies like some of our neighbors did, and our slaves were treated with respect, able to earn their freedom. As all warriors, I was bred for battle but it was not bloodlust that drove me; it was the honest fight against the worthy foe. My people were decent people; honest, hardworking, decent people. It is important to me that you know this. I am no thief; I simply did not understand. I will go back to Africa myself, if I have the chance, to replenish what damage I have done to the hothouse today. I would not have you ashamed of me or my actions when you remember me. I would not bring dishonor upon your name or make your life difficult in any way.”
Violet looked at the worry lines between his brows, the pinched look on his strong face. It hurt her to see him so troubled and she drew her eyes back to the road so he couldn’t see the effect he had upon her.
“But know, as well,” he continued, his tone hardening, “no living man had ever attempt to pull flowers from your hair that I have placed there, not while I live and breathe. Not while I am conscious and alert. Not if he expects to continue living and breathing, himself. With everything in me I would defend you, Violet. I was not able to save my wife. I will not let that happen again. I will not allow a woman I care about to be hurt like that again. I will not shame my family, my title, or my people ever again. I will not let you down in that way. That is my word.”
Violet knew his words were heartfelt. She knew they were true to the depths of her soul. And despite knowing that the woman he had loved came to an untimely end, she couldn’t help a little jealousy toward the woman who held his heart. No one had ever loved her so completely. Not even close.
“Taka, I don’t know what happened all those years ago, but I tell you without a doubt you are the best man I know. If you loved your wife half as much as I believe you do, you have nothing to be sorry for or ashamed about. You keep talking about what you lost; what about what she lost in you? I imagine to a woman loved by you, losing you would be the worst torture she could endure. No woman loved by you could lose that love lightly. That’s more important than anything you think you didn’t do or couldn’t do. If you loved her, she knew it. If you loved her, she could never forget it. A woman knows these things. If you loved her, she was the luckiest woman on earth, no matter what came later. But that’s just my humble opinion.”
She couldn’t look at him but it wasn’t long before she felt his hand rest softly upon hers on the wheel. Hands as strong and gentle as any she’d ever felt. Hands of a man who had been hurt soul deep. Hands of a man she cared about more than a little. A genie, a king . . . a friend. Hands of a man more special than anything the real world had to offer. Hands of a man she knew she’d never have. And that fact finally caused her eyes to tear up.
She let go of the wheel for just a moment, just long enough to grasp his hand tightly, before letting go to clutch the firm certainty of the steering wheel.
Chapter 17
“You know I hate this place a little more every time I walk through the door. I mean, look at it,” Violet said, opening the door to her apartment and tossing her purse on a table. “This is no home. I don’t even want to put pictures on the wall. I hate it here. I’m an interior decorator and I have no desire to make this place even remotely appealing.”
Taka looked around, finally noticing the starkness of the room. “You are right. It does not have your sparkling personality.”
“No, it doesn’t. I’m waiting, Taka. Waiting for enough money to buy the house I want. And I will get it, too. Believe me.”
“I do believe you.” H
e sat down beside her.
“Hey.” She turned to him. “You want to see my work? I’ve won awards, you know. I was in a magazine last year for some work I did for this woman on the north side. Want to see?”
She had such an open look of excitement—her face an open invitation where before she had been closed off and defensive—Taka could not help but agree. “Certainly.”
Violet popped up, walked over to a table, and picked up a photo album, bringing it back to sit beside him again. She placed it on the coffee table and opened it.
“I keep photos of every job I do.” She turned a page and showed him snapshots of different rooms in different houses. As she described each, her finger moving over the page, her face grew more animated with each photo. Taka watched her intently. He noted how excited she was describing her designs, recognized the hunger in her eyes as she spoke because he’d seen it in the eyes of his men after each battle. He knew it was in his own when, after each win, he would glow with esteem and pride, filled with an indescribable sense of accomplishment. He was seeing the same in her. It was just as Ani had said: her kingdom was her company.
“And this one I did for a congressman. And this one is the one I won for.”
Taka pulled his eyes from her face to look down at the album and a full, glossy photo of a room. The colors were striking: golds, reds, purples, and violets. Accents of beads and stones. Pillows embroidered in lush velvets and silks. Tapestries with bold prints, splashes of orange.