“Hello,” he answered, and the sound of his deep voice crept down Safire’s spine.
“Hi, beautiful,” Safire said, smiling and excited to talk to him. “I hope it isn’t too late to call, but you said you were a night owl, so I decided to take a chance.”
There was a long pause on the other line.
“Hello?” she called.
“I’m here,” Darien said. “I’m just wondering why you’re calling me after two weeks—almost two weeks. Why are you calling, Safire? Why has it taken two weeks?”
Darien’s voice was sober, stern, uninviting. He was angry. And his anger doused Safire’s excitement like a deluge. Still, he had something of a point; she would feel similarly if she’d been waiting for him to call. That meant he must have missed her, too.
“You didn’t give me your numbers. Remember? So what is this?”
“I’ve been moving. I just finished today.”
“You didn’t seem to be packing when I was there.”
“Exactly,” Safire said. “I had everything to do.”
“That doesn’t explain why you couldn’t find ten minutes in the past two weeks. You could have even called me to help you.”
“I had it covered. It just took time. But I’ve wanted to see you again.”
“Apparently not enough.”
“Maybe too much,” Safire admitted, not sure how to explain her delay.
“Haven’t gotten enough of what you want?” Darien asked.
Now he was going a bit too far. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, is this something to you, or is this a booty call?”
Now he had gone way too far. Safire got to her feet. “You don’t know me enough to imply what you’re implying. Don’t mix me up with your past fly-by-night flames.” Her finger made an arc through the air, and her fist came to rest on her hip.
“Okay. Maybe I’m off base,” Darien admitted. “But the point is that I don’t know you well enough. I need to know you better.”
Safire sat back down and leafed through one of her applications while coming out of her huff.
“Look,” Darien said, “I didn’t know what to think when I didn’t hear from you all that time. It started to seem like it was just a casual thing to you. I used to play the field. Remember? And that’s how I got burned.”
“You told me about them.”
“My point is that I see you doing what I used to do. I don’t want you to get burned or burned out.”
“I take care of myself pretty well.”
“Maybe,” he said quietly, “you should let someone else take care of you a little bit, too.”
Darien’s soft, deep voice sent a shiver through Safire. She purred and said, “I like how that sounds.” Then she chuckled.
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Of course, Mr. Saint couldn’t possibly have meant it that way. But I liked it that way.”
“But that’s not all there is, Safire.”
“I never said it was.”
“So let me know you better,” Darien said.
The sincerity in his voice quieted Safire. “Okay, Darien. What next?”
After a long pause, he said, “Come with me somewhere. What are you doing now?”
Safire looked around her sister’s room and toyed with the idea, but she couldn’t run off when she was supposed to be watching Philly. “Uh, I’m previously engaged.”
“What does that mean?” Darien asked.
“It means I’m out already,” Safire said, hoping he wouldn’t pursue the topic. She wasn’t ready to tell him about her family. “How about tomorrow? I get out a bit late, but I can be ready by eight.”
“You date a lot, don’t you?”
“I like to get out, even if it’s with my girls. But I guess I date a fair amount.”
“Anyone serious?”
“Not really. I guess I never found the right one.”
“Could it be me?” Darien asked.
“That’s what we want to find out,” Safire replied.
“Then tomorrow at eight.”
They made plans for the next night; he would make them dinner at his place, and he had just gotten a movie they could watch if it wasn’t too late. She gave him her cell phone number, and he gave her his address. She would be meeting him at his place.
Safire clicked the phone closed, excited that she would be seeing Darien again.
Chapter 6
Darien put down his chisel, loosened the clamp holding the statue to the table, turned it over and clamped it down again. This piece was one of his family trees—the base for one of his lamps. On the other end of the table he had one of his pieces for school. It dominated the table. The broad strokes were finished. Now he had to do the detail work and relief.
In the corner under a canvas was the Safire piece. He had gotten to a stage where he didn’t know how to go on. He had captured the erotic quality of Safire’s character, but there was more there. There was also a sweetness that he had just begun to factor in. In fact, she was full of contradictions: tough but tender, independent but youthful, saucy but sweet. There was more to her in general, and Darien needed to know more so that he could figure out how to proceed with the piece. For now, he’d moved it to where she wouldn’t see it; it wasn’t ready to be seen.
He wouldn’t be able to work on it tonight because it was seven, and she was coming at eight. He patted his clothes to get off some of the wood chips and sawdust, and then he went into the kitchen to pull out all the things he would need to make eggplant Parmesan—for himself—and chicken Parmesan—for her. When everything in the kitchen was ready, he went into his room, gathered his underclothes and hit the shower.
Darien wasn’t sure what to wear for a date with Safire if they were staying in. His usual jeans and T-shirt didn’t stand up well against the little skirt suits she wore all the time. He wanted to make an impression, so he opted for a pair of pleated navy slacks and a bright blue sateen dress shirt. He wanted a little something of himself, so over that he put on a multicolored vest, and he finished it off with his bronze-and-black sneakers.
When his buzzer rang, Darien let Safire into his apartment building and waited for her at the door. What he saw coming down the hall was not the Safire he was used to. Instead of her usual skirt suit, she had on a short cocktail dress. It was azure blue and hugged her curves up to her breasts, where it stopped, with one thin strap at each shoulder. Over the top was a small, sheer bolero top with rhinestones down the front, around the neck and at the cuffs. It stopped just below her breasts and was so translucent that it actually worked to show off what was beneath rather than conceal it.
She had on strappy silver sandals that were at least two-and-a-half inches high. Her toes were painted the same red as her fingernails, and her face was made up to the nines. The front part of her hair was pulled back into a barrette, but the back fell in curls down her back. She had a little silver purse in her hand and a wide smile on her face that was at once innocent and tempting. She was gorgeous.
While he gaped at her, Safire leaned up on her toes and gently kissed his lips. Like her smile, the kiss was both chaste and erotic. She hadn’t even gotten in the door yet, and Darien was already starting to get inflamed.
“Hi,” she said.
“You look beautiful,” Darien said, drawing her into his apartment. “You look like you’re going out on the town. Maybe we should.”
“No, we don’t have to go out. I just like to dress for my dates.”
“You look...stunning.”
Safire smiled, twirled around and gave Darien a model-type pose. Then she laughed. “Thank you. You look nice yourself.” Safire looked at him. “Are you still mad at me?” she asked and then made a little pout.
Darien had to be honest. “Well, I haven’t forgotten that it took you almost two weeks to call me after I spent the night at your house.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I had to move and... I won’t let that happen again.”
With some of the unspoken out in the open, Darien took a deep breath, smiled tentatively and gave Safire a brief hug. He still hadn’t heard the real reason why it had taken so long. He still didn’t know. He released her into his apartment, thinking once again that she looked as if she was going out.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go out?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m sure,” she said.
She was already wandering into the living room and taking in his apartment, which was generally the opposite of her own. Safire’s space was streamlined and modern. Darien’s was anything but that. He had art everywhere—on the walls, on his shelves and tables. It filled every conceivable space. Most of it was his own, but some of it was his students’ work, and some of it he had just collected. There was also color and texture everywhere. His sofa and chairs had been reupholstered in African cloth, and he’d tiled over his wooden coffee table. He went for unique rather than posh, multicultural rather than modern.
His bookshelf was stacked with art books and schoolbooks, and workstations were set up all over his apartment. The second bedroom was used for woodwork, but the breakfast nook was set up for clay, and half the dining room was set up for drawing and painting. Instead of a china cabinet, he had a shelf full of paints. Art supplies were everywhere except in his bedroom, which was the only rather normal room in the apartment. But even there, his bedspread and curtains were made of Ashanti kente cloth, and it was also rather covered in art. It wasn’t that tidy, but then he didn’t expect them to go into that room tonight.
“Your place is amazing,” Safire said, still looking around. “I love all the art. Did you make all of these?”
“Some of them. I’ll show you a few of my pieces after dinner. That’s why I wanted you to come over—so I could show you my stuff.”
“What I see is incredible.”
Safire was looking at the African masks that Darien had around his entertainment center.
“Those aren’t mine.”
“I know. You have a lot of African art, don’t you?”
“It inspires me.”
“And lots of imagery of women.”
“I guess that inspires me, too.”
“You have lots of stuff,” Safire said, coming to him. “You must have been living here awhile.”
“Ever since college.” With Safire standing right in front of him, Darien became a little self-conscious. “Do you want to wait here or to come into the kitchen while I cook us dinner?”
“I’ll come. I can help.” Safire saw the chicken laid out on the counter and gave Darien a brief kiss on the cheek. “Aw, you got chicken for me.”
“Yes, I didn’t know if you’d like eggplant by itself. I also got you wine—one red and one white.”
For that he earned another kiss.
Darien was glad that his small considerations hadn’t gone unnoticed. But the fact that Safire had noticed and even that she’d thanked him pointed out the huge differences that still stood between them. And as she watched him pour olive oil into the frying pan, he was sure that they stood out in her mind, as well. But there they were, and she seemed happy to see him, as happy as he was to see her.
While Darien sautéed the eggplant and the chicken, Safire made their salad. When the sauces were bubbling, he put the pasta on. By the time he had set the dining table, everything was ready. He added Parmesan to Safire’s chicken and served up their plates. Safire was looking at the art on the walls in the dining room and the painting station that took up the other half of the room as they started to eat.
“This is wonderful,” she said.
“I’m glad you like it. I think that’s actually a piece of the eggplant that I gave you,” Darien said and then laughed.
Safire swatted his arm across the small table and chuckled. “Don’t try to turn me vegetarian. I love meat—beef and pork and—”
Darien laughed. “Your eyes were glazing over.”
“See what I mean?”
“Don’t worry. It’s not catching.”
There they were again—their differences. Yet Darien could barely take his eyes off her, and there was so much that he wanted to know. Unfortunately, Safire was the one who made the first inquiry.
“Tell me about your family,” she said.
“We’re from here. I have one younger half brother. He’s gay. He’s a sweetie. My father died when I was little, and my mother remarried, so I have a little half brother. They were divorced when he was three, and we were raised by my mother here in Miami. She’s a nurse.”
“Was it hard on you financially? Is that why you’re so keen on the work the Heritage Center does for those in need?”
Darien hesitated. He didn’t like to flaunt what he had, but he wanted to be honest with Safire. “When my father died, he left me the value of his business. He owned a lumber-supply company. I’m pretty well situated, enough that I can help out the Heritage Center when I need to. Enough that I know I’ll always be okay. I want to make it as an artist, but I’ll never have to starve.”
“So your father worked in wood, as well. That’s nice. What about your brother?”
“My brother is in his fourth year as a psychology major at FIU. He’ll be finished next May. We’re all pretty close. My brother lives on campus, but we see my mom every other weekend or so.” Darien stopped. He didn’t want this to be like the other night, when he did all of the talking. “What about you? I know your parents are gone but that you have siblings.”
“I have an older sister and a younger brother, and our cousin lives with them. We’re from North Miami—born and raised.”
“Are you close?”
“Kind of. I see them about once a week these days.”
Darien felt Safire’s toe moving up his leg. And there they were again—their differences. Fast versus slow.
“Are you playing footsies with me?” he asked and then laughed.
“Maybe. Do you like it?”
“You’re incorrigible. And you’re just trying to get out of having to talk about yourself. Why?”
Safire smiled, caught. Darien was starting to know her smiles, and he loved that and loved them. No differences between them could stop that.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I guess I tend to be a bit private.”
“Tell me something private,” Darien said, wanting so much to get inside this woman’s mind.
“There isn’t much.”
“What? Tell me.”
“I want to go back to school. I started out wanting to focus on children and the law, and now I’m not sure.”
This wasn’t terribly personal, but Darien could tell that it was personal to Safire. It was important to her and real for her.
“Tell me more,” he said.
Safire shrugged. “That’s all I know right now. I still want to work with children, but I’m not sure if it’ll be through law or teaching or something else.”
They had finished eating, and Darien reached across the table and took Safire’s hand. “You’ll figure it out. You’ll find your way.”
“I know,” she said.
“Can you afford it on your own?”
Safire let out a breath, as if the tension had been broken. “That’s another question. I’ve been saving for the last couple of years—well, except for clothes and shoes and going out.”
They both chuckled.
“Other than that, I’ve saved a bit. I’m going to look for scholarships when I figure out what I want to do. And if that doesn’t work, there are student loans. That’s also why I moved.”
“To save money. I have a roommate now, so we’re splitting the rent.”
“You couldn’t move in with one of your siblings?”
“They live together. And no, I didn’t want to do that. I’ve been on my own for too long. And they have issues of their own to deal with—financial and otherwise. They don’t even know I’m going back to school yet.”
Darien moved Safire’s hand to his lips. “Thank you for telling me. I hope you tell me more about you. Will you?”
Safire nodded and smiled.
“I should have brought dessert,” Safire said.
“I have dessert for us. The James household is never without dessert. It’s my mom’s apple cobbler.”
“Now your eyes are glazing over,” Safire teased.
They both chuckled.
Darien got their dessert à la mode.
“I just got a copy of Tyler Perry’s For Colored Girls,” Darien said. “Did you see it?”
“Actually, no. But I read Ntozake Shange’s original. I’m up for seeing it.”
“Before that, I want to show you some of my art, if you’d like.”
“Yes, I would.”
Darien took a breath. He was always a little nervous showing his work, but this was special. This was Safire. He took her hand and led her to the bedroom that he used for his woodwork. Along the back wall, he had reinforced wooden shelves where he stored some of his pieces. He drew off the covers that he used to protect them, and Safire stepped forward.
“Oh, my God. These are amazing.”
Safire walked along the shelving, touching the pieces and stopping to look at some of the more intricate ones. “These are so beautiful. The faces on the human figures are so real, and the detail is phenomenal. And some of these are huge. You work with everything, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I add a little of everything to wood. Inlay, ceramic, paint, metal, glass, mosaic, stain, burning—anything I can do that seems to fit.”
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