by Tia Sirrah
"Have dinner with me." It sounded more like a command than a question.
"What part of 'I don't want to date you' don't you understand?"
Quentin smiled, causing my heart to do a little flutter. "How about a friendly dinner?"
"Can't."
"Hey," Tremaine said, as he approached us and stood beside me. He handed me a girly pink cocktail, which Quentin lightly scoffed at. A passing waiter took my empty champagne flute, and I took a sip of the foo-foo sweet drink. I wanted a beer like Tremaine had for himself, but I smiled up at him and thanked him for my drink anyway.
Tremaine kissed me on my forehead, and I leaned into his touch. Quentin's eyes never left mine, and Tremaine looked between the two of us, with a furrowed brow.
"Tremaine." I cleared my throat and rested my hand on his chest. "This is Quentin. He's an old friend from high school." Quentin's jaw ticked before dragging his eyes from me and focusing on Tremaine. "Quentin, this is Tremaine. He's a close friend."
"Nice to meet you, man." Tremaine extended his free hand to Quentin.
Time seemed to stand still before Quentin shook his offered hand. "Hey, man. How's it going?" Quentin spared him a few seconds of attention before his eyes were back on me.
"Good." Tremaine drew me in closer by wrapping his arm around me. Behind the nonchalance of Quentin's stare, I could feel the tension rolling off of him. It was awkward as hell. Tremaine's eyes were on Quentin, and Quentin's eyes were on me. And my eyes were torn between the two of them.
"Well, I need to get going," Quentin said. "See you soon, Fatima."
"Yeah. See you around."
Tremaine and I watched him disappear into the crowd. "Ex-boyfriend?"
"Something like that."
"Dude's got it bad for you."
I snorted a chuckle. "Really? I hadn't noticed."
"Yeah, really. Not that I can blame the man. Most men with a pulse have the hots for you."
I smiled and took another small sip of my drink.
"Should I be worried?"
I shook my head. "Let's go get some dessert. The waiter hasn’t made his way over here yet." I laced my fingers through Tremaine's, and he leaned down and placed a gentle peck on my lips. I felt Quentin's eyes on me the entire time.
Chapter 25
FATIMA
STEPHANIE SLOWED HER STEPS. Her dark brown eyes were wide with interest.
"Hello, sexy white man," she muttered.
I snorted a chuckle. "Girl, who are you ta—?" I followed her line of sight and halted in place. What the?
Quentin stared directly at me as he leaned against his black Ranger Rover Autobiography with his hands in his pockets. He looked grossly out of place in the gym parking lot, decked out in a charcoal gray Tom Ford suit that was tailored to a T. As the rest of the Crossfit group members spilled out of the gym, most of them slowed their pace as they checked him out. A few bold ones waved and offered him flirtatious smiles. Others giggled and whispered to each other while stealing glances.
"Wait a minute. Is that Quentin?" Stephanie whispered.
I readjusted my workout bag on my shoulder and continued walking. "In the flesh."
"Dang, girl. If I were ever to date a white man, give me one as fine as that. You and your cousin sure know how to pick em'." She linked her arm with mine and stopped in her tracks. "Aren't you going to talk to him?" she asked as I tried to head the other way.
"Nah, I'm good." I gave Quentin a little wave before heading towards my car. "I don't know why he's here, and I'm sweaty and starving."
"He's coming this way," Stephanie said with excitement in her voice. She distanced herself from me as soon as Quentin neared. "Bye, girl. Call me and tell me everything."
"Fatima," Quentin called out from behind me, as soon as I reached my car.
I turned to face him. "What are you doing here?"
"Have breakfast with me." The hopeful look in his eyes didn't diminish the cockiness of his smile as he looked down at me and scratched his eyebrow with the tip of his pinky finger.
"It's 7:00 in the morning on a Monday. Don’t you have to go to work or something?"
"Eventually. But you have to eat. I have to eat. We might as well eat together."
I rolled my eyes and fought an impending smirk. I had plans that didn't include Quentin. I had a vlog to do, of me coloring the bottom half of my locs with lavender hair dye. "And if I say no?"
"I know a good place around the corner."
"And if I say no?" I repeated, slower this time.
"I'm a glass-half-full kind of guy," he shrugged.
"Yeah, okay," I chuckled humorlessly. Crossing my arms over my chest, I leaned against my car. "How did you know where to find me? Are you stalking me now, like those guys in the Lifetime movies I watch?"
"Lifetime?" He chuckled. "You still watch that shit?"
"Uh, yeah. It's great television. And because of those movies, I know all the behaviors of a stalker." Quentin laughed heartily at that. Like I was being cute, and not dead ass serious. "You are exhibiting some questionable characteristics. First, you show up at my house. Now you show up at my gym." I tapped my chin with my finger. "Those are stalker tendencies."
"You call it stalking. I call it tenacity."
Stephanie pulled up along the side of us and rolled down her window. "I'll see you tomorrow morning for yoga."
"Yep. I'll be here."
Stephanie batted her eyelashes at Quentin, with a splitting grin on her face. "Hi. I'm Stephanie."
Quentin graced her with a charming smile. "Hey. I'm Quentin."
It took her a couple of seconds to recover from ogling him. "Do you have a brother?"
"He's eighteen," I butted in.
"He's legal," she countered.
"Bye, Stephanie," I teased while rolling my eyes. I'll call you, girl."
"Uh-huh. See ya'."
"It was nice to meet you, Stephanie," Quentin said before stepping away to answer his buzzing phone.
"Oh my God," she mouthed animatedly before driving away.
I pulled my old UCLA sweatshirt out of my gym bag and put it on over my lycra halter tank top. When Quentin ended his call, I said, "Fine. Breakfast. I know the place you're talking about around the corner."
"Cool. I'll drive us there."
"Yeah…no. We'll take separate cars."
He rolled his eyes and chuckled, clearly exasperated. "God, I've missed you, Princess."
Princess. My stomach dropped. I wasn't prepared for how that nickname still made me feel. What was I doing? This was a mistake and a slippery slope. I needed to stay far away from this man. I couldn't risk what was left of my heart to be crushed.
I fidgeted from one foot to the other and looked off in the distance at the other cars exiting or entering the parking lot. "I don't…I have some stuff to do. I can't…" I looked up at Quentin and wished I hadn't. His facial expression was composed and unbothered, but his eyes told another story. He looked defeated. "Today's not a good day for me, Quentin."
He slowly nodded before looking away from me off into the distance, seeming as uncomfortable as I was, but probably for a different reason. I was sure that his discomfort was due to the bruising of his ego. Not the bruising of his heart. "Okay. Yeah, sure." He focused those eyes on me again. They were intense and determined. "Have dinner with me, then." I was about to object when he continued. "It doesn't have to be a date. It can be a dinner between two friends."
"Quentin…"
"We were friends once upon a time."
"Yeah, we were," I said forlornly.
"Please. Just dinner." There was a hint of desperation in his voice.
My heart tugged in my chest. "A friendly dinner?"
"Yes. A dinner between friends." He held his palms up in defense.
Say no. Say no. Say no. "Okay. Fine," I relented.
There was that cocky smile again. "How about Saturday?"
"Saturdays aren't good for me. That's my busiest day at the salon. But I'
m free on Thursday."
"How about Friday?" he countered.
"I can't do this Friday. I have plans."
"Plans with Trevor?"
I pursed my lips. "Tremaine," I corrected. "And yes, if you must know. How about next Monday?"
"That'll work. I'll pick you up at seven."
"Seven is good. I'll meet you there. Just text me the details."
"Will do. It's a date," he said as he backed up towards his S.U.V.
"It's a non-date. Oh, and Quentin."
"Yeah?"
"You're an asshole for not telling me about Amy and Conner."
"It wasn't my business to tell. Bro code and all."
"I have a few ideas on what you can do with your bro code," I mocked, only half teasing. "It didn't bother you that before you married Amy, she hooked up with Conner—like a lot?"
"Not really, no. If I loved her, that would have sucked. But I didn't, so…" Quentin causally shrugged.
"Guys are so weird."
"And women are too dramatic."
On that note, I waved goodbye to Quentin with my middle finger, causing him to laugh as he walked away. As soon as I sank into the seat of my car, an unsettling feeling lay dormant in my gut. I committed a cardinal sin by sleeping with Hunter. I was no better than Conner. In fact, I was worse. Conner slept with Amy before his relationship with Novalee, and when Novalee found out, it all blew up in his face.
I slept with Hunter after my relationship with Quentin and had no plans on telling him. That made me a terrible person. I tried to justify it by telling myself that there was no point in telling Quentin. We were done. He dumped my ass, and he married Amy, out of all people. But the more I tried to justify it, the worse I felt.
Chapter 26
FATIMA
I PARKED OUTSIDE OF La Smoke, an Italian-Cajun infused restaurant, on the outskirts of downtown. I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror of my car and ran my hands down my two French braids. After applying one more coat of matte red lipstick, I killed my car engine. Okay, queen. Let's do this. Don't overthink it. I unfastened the third button of my black blouse. The swell of my cleavage was almost too much. And the sheen on my skin looked lickable, if I might say so myself. "You are Fatima mutherfucking McKay," I muttered as I closed my car door and checked my reflection in my car window. My lavender, floor-length, high-waisted, A-line skirt, another Novalee creation, accentuated my tiny waist and firm ass perfectly. Eat your heart out, Quentin James.
I answered my ringing phone as I headed towards the restaurant doors. "Hey, cousin."
"My feet are swollen, and I have heartburn. My day sucks. Whatchu' doing?"
"Oh, stop complaining. At least you're getting dicked down on the regular again. That's more than I can say."
"Conner and I aren't having sex. You're definitely having more sex than me."
"Oh, that's right. Conner's still on pussy probation. We'll see how long that lasts," I teased.
"Where are you?" Novalee asked, changing the subject.
"Uh-huh. I see what you did there," I chuckled. "I'm outside of La Smoke. I'm about to meet Quentin for dinner."
"Yum! They make the best jalapeno cornbread there."
"Cool. I love spicy food. And you know I have some hot sauce in my bag, just in case."
Novalee laughed. "The Demalio family owns La Smoke. I've never eaten there, but I've been to their restaurant in Chicago."
"I'm sorry. Did you say Demalio family? As in Hunter Demalio?"
"Yeah. How do you not know this?"
"Does Hunter work here?"
"He took over as head chef a couple of years ago. He even won a James Beard award. His brothers are head chefs at the other locations in Chicago, Las Vegas, and San Francisco. I hear they're all super hot, just like Hunter."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "That's great."
"I know, right? I'm so hungry. I'm so freaking jealous of you right now." She sighed. "Dinner with Quentin, huh? That's unexpected."
"Seriously. But it's not a date. The ink is still drying on his divorce papers, for crying out loud."
"True. But you know they've been separated for a while now."
"No, I didn't know that. It's not like I'm checking for him like that."
"I've always been a fan of Quentin's. He's been such a good friend to Conner. And I know he really cares about you."
"I know you're a fan. Most people are. But not everything is what it seems. I know he's a good friend to Conner. Those two go way back. But Quentin can colder than a fucking iceberg when he wants to be."
"Amy eluded to that once. She said that Conner and Quentin aren't made for happily ever afters."
"Do you believe that about Conner?"
Novalee hesitated, then said with some finality, "No. I don't believe that. As you said, not everything is what it seems. I believe that some people deserve a second chance."
"Yeah, well. I don't do second chances. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me."
"I know, cousin. Just keep an open mind. You never know."
"The restaurant looks closed. There are only a few cars in the parking lot." I stared up at the imposing, ivy-covered brick restaurant.
"Awww, how romantic! What if he reserved the entire restaurant for just the two of you?" she gushed as her voice croaked.
"Novalee? Are you crying?"
"No," she guiltily said as she sniffled. "I just think it's so sweet."
"On that note, I'm out. Hormones or not, I expected more from you, Novalee," I softly chided. "Go dry your eyes and woman-up. You're supposed to be on my team. I need you to remind me why falling for Quentin would be a bad idea."
"How can I do that when I don't even know what happened between you two?"
"I'll sum it up for you. He broke my heart."
"Ouch. What happened?"
"He dumped my ass because his daddy told him to."
"Okay, that's sucks."
"Ya think?"
"But what did you do to him?"
"Huh?"
"You once told me that you guys hurt each other. How did you hurt him?"
I slept with one of his closest friends, and he has no idea. "It's complicated. But let's just say, there's no going back."
"Never say never, cousin. You taught me that once."
"Trush me on this. Hey, I'm here. I'll call you later, okay?"
"Okay. Love you."
"Love you too, cousin."
I opened the heavy door to La Smoke and was immediately met with a mouthwatering aroma of spices. My heels clicked on the dark wood floors as I walked towards the empty maître d station.
"Fatima?" I turned around and faced Hunter. He looked surprised to see me.
"Hey, Hunter." I forced a smile. "Beautiful place you have here. I didn't know this was yours."
"Thank you," he smiled easily, his blue eyes twinkling in the dimly lit foyer. "I wasn't aware that you were Quentin's date."
"Oh, I'm not. I mean, it's not a date date."
"Right," he drawled. His eyes perused my body before he looked away. Yeah. This was awkward. We'd seen each other naked before. He's been inside of me. I didn't know whether or not to shake his hand or hug him. So I just stood there.
Hunter made the first move and stepped closer. I took a step back. He wasn't invading my space, but his closeness still made me uncomfortable. "This doesn't have to be awkward, you know."
"Is it that obvious?"
"A little," he smiled, revealing a dimple under his left eye. "I would have recommended a different restaurant if I'd known—"
"Known what?" Quentin asked, appearing in the threshold of the dining hall with his hands in his pockets.
What was he? A ninja? I didn't even hear him approach and had no idea how long he'd been standing there. Startled by his sudden appearance, I jumped back from Hunter, creating a more comfortable distance.
Hunter shrugged nonchalantly. "If I'd known she wasn't a fan of spicy food."
"S
ince when don't you like spicy food?" Quentin asked with a slight tilt of his head.
My lips were moving before actual words came out. Both men watched me studiously. Quentin with curiosity and Hunter's expression was unreadable. "My palate is more sensitive these days. But I'm sure whatever Hunter prepares will be just fine."
Quentin slowly nodded as his lawyer eyes probed us both before focusing on me. "Our table's this way." Quentin rested a hand on the small of my back and led the way.
I looked back to say something to Hunter, but he had already turned his back and was heading in the direction where I assumed the kitchen was. Quentin led me into an empty dining hall, encased in vibrant colors of dark wood floors and wine-colored walls. White table cloths adorned each table, some family size and some only big enough for two. Sleek light fixtures hung from exposed beamed ceilings, and the dimming light from the setting sun peeked through a few slanted windows scattered about. A floor to ceiling fireplace was the centerpiece of the spacious dining hall, and crackling flames danced about.
Quentin dressed like he'd been in court, wearing a navy blue Armani suit, red tie, and a crisp white shirt. He belonged on the cover of GQ, and still looked fresh and impeccable, even after a full workday. The only tell-tell sign of the wearing of the day was the faint stubble that ghosted his jaw. But on him, it looked incredibly sexy. How was it possible that he'd gotten better with age?
Our eyes met as we stood at our table for two. Quentin's eyes were a blend of honey and forest green, reminding me of a perfect autumn day. "Thank you," I finally said as he pulled out my chair, and I sat down.
"Of course." He offered a small smile before sitting across from me. "I love your hair like that. It looks badass, and sexy as fuck," he said, referring to the lavender ends.
"Thank you." I smiled graciously and could feel the sudden warmth on my cheeks. "This is fancy for a friendly dinner." I arched a freshly threaded brow. "Where are all the other guests?"
He shrugged lazily. "I bought the entire restaurant for the night. I wanted our first date in years to be special." His languid and bold response surprised me.
"Friendly dinner," I amended.
"If that's what you want to call it," he said evenly.