Tareef (The Brothers Ali Book 4)

by Celeste Granger

  Keep it together, Jennifer, Tareef thought, hoping somehow his connection with her would persist past Malcolm’s belligerence.

  “Who would lie about being beaten, sir?” For the first time since Malcolm questioned her, Jennifer turned her full attention to him, looking him directly in the eye. Her voice remained level, but her eyes, even from where Naomi sat, she saw how piercing Jennifer’s eyes were.

  “Who would lie about feeling crazy? He told me I was crazy long before the experts called it battered women’s syndrome. Who would lie about that? It’s not a badge of honor to have a mental illness. It’s nothing to be ashamed of either.”

  Her response put Malcolm on his heels. It was evident by the way he responded.

  “No further questions.”

  Naomi watched as Malcolm returned to his seat. But before he sat down, their eyes connected. Although Naomi was tempted to turn away, she didn’t. Her gaze was as heated and piercing as Jennifer’s had been.

  Chapter Twenty

  The judge gave his final instructions to the jury. They were to weigh the facts and only the facts. They were to determine if Jennifer had been wrongly convicted based on the evidence. He warned them not to talk to the media nor to watch television or engage on any social media sites. They would be sequestered, as they had been for the length of the trial. Their job was to deliberate and return with a verdict. Beyond a reasonable doubt was the legal benchmark the prosecutor had to reach. It was up to the jury to determine if that was the case. It was all up to the twelve people on the jury.

  Now, it was a waiting game. Naomi was nervous about Jennifer. She didn’t know what the score was anymore. That part really didn’t matter. As the judge said, it was all up to the jury. She filed out with the rest of the members of the galley that spilled into the hallway.

  “Naomi,” Malcolm called over the bustling crowd.

  She considered not pausing, but Malcolm caught up to her, his long strides outdistancing hers.

  “I just want to talk to you,” he reasoned as he shortened his strides to match hers.

  Naomi slowed her pace and waited until the people around her thinned out before addressing him.

  “What?”

  “I thought we had a good thing going,” Malcolm replied, fully inclining himself to her.

  “We did, but good things come to an end,” Naomi replied.

  “Can I at least know why?”

  “Our values, Malcolm, they are different,” Naomi answered.

  “Our differences are insurmountable, is that what you’re saying?”

  “Yes, that’s what I’m saying,” Naomi iterated. “How you treated that woman in there? How you minimized her mental health?”

  “That’s work, Naomi,” Malcolm disagreed.

  “How you looked when I told you my mother suffered from mental illness, that wasn’t work, Malcolm.”

  “I was surprised, that’s all.”

  “But that’s enough for me,” Naomi continued. “And maybe that’s not reason enough. Maybe that doesn’t make sense to you, but it makes sense to me. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t understand, doesn’t empathize with people afflicted with a condition or circumstances outside their control.”

  “I have empathy, but,” he started, but Naomi cut him off.

  “See, that’s the problem. Whatever was coming after the but is the problem.”

  Naomi didn’t want to hear anymore, so she didn’t stay; instead, finding her pace and walking away. Malcolm considered chasing after her, but he didn’t.

  Naomi didn’t stop until she was outside the court building. There was such a well up of emotions that she found it difficult to breathe. Malcolm was a nice guy, and he was good for someone, just not her. Naomi paused, reaching in her purse and turning her cell phone back on. As she continued down the courthouse stairs, her phone dinged. There was a voicemail message.

  “Ms. Singleton. This is O’Shea Ali. Tareef gave me your name regarding possible PR representation. If you would, please call me at your earliest convenience. I would like to set up a meeting as soon as possible.”

  Oh shit!

  Naomi was stunned. True, Tareef told her he passed her contact information along, but Naomi thought he was just talking.

  But he’s never been that kind of man. That was the still quiet voice inside her, making itself known. Naomi dismissed the voice, still happily stunned by O’Shea’s message. She couldn’t get to her car fast enough. This time the escalated beat of Naomi’s heart was positive instead of angst and worry. Nearing her vehicle, Naomi hit the key fob and unlocked the doors. Sliding into the driver’s side, Naomi closed the door behind her. Before returning O’Shea’s call, she needed to talk to someone else.

  “This has got to be the wrong number.”

  “Don’t act like that, Rocky. This is important,” Naomi pleaded.

  “Well, what if I’m in the middle of something?” Racquel challenged.

  “Well, if you are, instead of calling you back, I’ll just drive to where you are, wait until you’re done, and then we can talk. How about that?”

  “Then it must be important,” Racquel laughed. “but you should be driving over here anyway since you’ve been neglecting me the last few weeks.”

  “You’re right,” Naomi agreed. “I haven’t been a good friend lately. What shop are you at?”

  “The new one.”

  “Cool, I’m already close. I’ll see you in a few.”

  It didn’t take long for Naomi to navigate through downtown and get to the newest location. She still had an obligation to fulfill her responsibilities as PR Manager for Racquel. Meeting at the shop was a dual opportunity.

  “Can I be next in the chair?” Naomi asked as she entered the shop.

  The other barbers greeted her warmly.

  Racquel was finishing up with a client. Even though she owned the shop and a few others, she still enjoyed catering to her clients and keeping her barbering skills sharp.

  “You’re lucky I don’t have another paying customer waiting,” Rocky quipped as she handed her client the mirror to check out her handiwork.

  Naomi waited until Racquel was finished before plopping down in the chair.

  “What can I possibly do for you, Missy Ma’am?”

  Rocky spun Naomi around in the chair until she could see her reflection in the wall mirror. Naomi’s natural tresses didn’t require much barbering care.

  “You don’t even have to tell me,” Racquel sassed. “Them eyebrows, sis. When was the last time?”

  “I haven’t had time,” Naomi laughed. “That’s why I need you.”

  “Is that the only reason?” Racquel asked as she draped a fresh protective cape over Naomi’s clothes and lowered her down in the chair.

  “And advice,” Naomi added.

  “About what?” Racquel asked, turning her back for a moment to prepare the hot towel and single blade.

  “A business meeting.”

  “Why would you need my advice about that?”

  “Because, Rocky. It’s with O’Shea Ali.”

  Rocky’s interest was piqued. “How’d you manage that? Not that it’s a bad thing at all, but what’s the back story?”

  “Tareef,” Naoi answered. “He told me at the opening he gave my number to his brother for a PR opportunity, but I thought he was just making small talk, to have something to say. Turns out, he passed my name along for real.”

  “So, what kind of advice do you need from me?”

  “Well, you’ve been around the Ali family. You know much more about their business endeavors than I do. I can’t imagine that they don’t have a host of PR reps at their fingertips they could use.”

  “There was no question in what you said,” Racquel reminded. “And it doesn’t matter how many firms are available or that they’ve used before. You’re the one recommended.”

  Naomi fell quiet as Racquel wielded the straight razor. When Rocky was satisfied with the evenness of the arch, she used a warm to
wel to wipe away any residual cream and then lifted the chair to upright.

  “What would you do for any other company soliciting a proposal from you?” She asked.

  “I would study them, their product, their influence, and base my proposal on gaps in their market for maximum exposure and potential profit,” Naomi answered confidently.

  “Then, if that’s what you would do for anyone else, that’s what you do for Ali International times ten because you need to bring you’re A-game to the table. Not because of who they are but because you are more than qualified, a savvy businesswoman, and most importantly, my friend. That’s what we do, our absolute best, and then some.”

  Naomi looked at her reflection in the mirror. Racquel gave her more than the perfect arch to her brows. Her advice was invaluable.

  “I suspect though the only reason you question the validity of O’Shea’s call is that you’re still not convinced that Tareef cares about you.”

  “Now, you were doing good, Rocky.”

  “I’m doing good now,” Racquel countered.

  “He’s too inconsistent for me to take him seriously.”

  “I can appreciate that. But may I remind you that not long ago, you were the one giving me advice about how I needed to handle things.”

  “Yeah, but that was different, Rocky,” Naomi reasoned. “You and Khalid had real history, not that it was necessarily positive. But you were tripping about things that happened in the past that proved inconsequential.”

  “Your history with Tareef may not have been as extensive as ours, but it was history nonetheless,” Racquel corrected.

  “And Tareef’s mishandling of your expressed feelings towards him in the past is consequential?” Rocky challenged.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Naomi dismissed.

  “Let’s take this conversation to the back, shall we?”

  “If that’s what you think it will take to get your point across if you have one,” Naomi sassed.

  “Oh, I’ve got a point,” Rocky laughed.

  “Whatever.”

  The two ladies traipsed to the back of the shop and into Racquel’s office. As Naomi took her seat, she took note of their work and how nicely the office turned out.

  “Shall we get right to it then?” Racquel asked, positioning herself behind the desk.

  “I’m not sure there is anything to get to,” Naomi defended.

  “Let me tell you what I know to be true since you asked me about the Ali’s because of my positioning,” Rocky began, resting her arms on the desk. “They are Alpha men, both professionally and personally. You know what that means, right?”

  “Sure,” Naomi scoffed, “self-centered, dominant, powerful, assertive.”

  “To some degree,” Racquel agreed. “But more than that, Naomi, an Alpha male, has a lot of traditional qualities. Their gentleman, confident, compelling. They like to be the aggressor. They want to chase, not be chased.”

  “So, is that what Tareef thought, I was chasing him?” Naomi asked, bordering on being appalled. “Is that what you thought?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I thought,” Racquel replied. “What matters is the overt expression of your interest may have put Tareef on his heels. Not that there is anything wrong with it, but for an Alpha man, through and through, it may be the reason he backed off in the beginning. Not because he wasn’t interested in you, Naomi. I know he was then and is now. I think he didn’t know what to do with your approach.”

  “So, I was pushy? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Not pushy in the sense that you threw yourself at him, but more along the lines of, it was obvious you were attracted to him. You didn’t make it a secret.”

  “I didn’t think I needed to,” Naomi sighed.

  “And maybe for some men, that would have been okay. But like you said, I’ve been around the Ali men, all of them. They are more old fashioned than one would think,” Rocky suggested. “I also think seeing you with Malcolm reawakened Tareef’s attraction. But that’s conjecture on my part,” Racquel added.

  “Well, he doesn’t have to be worried about seeing that anymore, if, in fact, he is interested,” Naomi replied.

  “You’re not seeing Malcolm anymore? What happened?”

  “We weren’t a good fit,” Naomi admitted.

  “Well, if you’re good with it, I’m good with it. Move him out of the way so a real man can step up.”

  “How can you be so sure he will?” Naomi questioned.

  “Trust me. Let Tareef be the chaser. Let him show you his interest. Act like you don’t care. Play hard to get. Let him pursue you, prove himself to you. I know it’s like the pot calling the kettle black but, you were right about my situation, and Naomi, I’m right about yours,” Racquel added. “Men like a challenge, not a pushover. And you are not a pushover, Naomi. Treat him like you would any other man trying to step to you.”

  “With blatant disregard?” Naomi giggled.

  “Absolutely!”

  The two women laughed.

  “I promise you; he will show himself to you. And when he does, you’ll know when to show him who you are.”

  “And this meeting with O’Shea?”

  “Handle it.”

  Feeling confident, Naomi pulled out her cell phone and dialed O’Shea’s number. He answered on the second ring. Naomi was already up out of her chair, pacing the floor. Racquel could see just how nervous she was.

  “I see you got my message.”

  “I did,” Naomi replied. “When can we sit down?”

  “Can you meet me next week, Monday? We have our regularly scheduled meeting at headquarters at eleven. How about one-thirty?”

  “Let me check my calendar,” Naomi responded. She didn’t want to appear anxious or desperate, so she took a moment to answer O’Shea’s question.

  “One thirty works for me, Mr. Ali,” she finally replied.

  “See you then.”

  “Thanks,” Naomi smiled. “I’ll see you then.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  For the remainder of the week and all of the weekend, Naomi prepped. She read every article on Ali International, reviewed every blog, and perused the plethora of interests the family had investments in. Then, Naomi focused her research on O’Shea’s position within the company. She looked at their previous public relations campaigns, advertisement, market reach. Naomi reviewed statistics nationally and internationally. She slept very little; her bed was crowded with stacks of papers, magazines, her computer. She ate even worse, ordering in because she didn’t have time to cook or break away to do much of anything else. It was a full-court blitz on landing the Ali contract. Naomi wanted it bad.

  By the time Naomi walked into the lobby of Ali International, she was prepared. It took effort to quell her nervous stomach, but she wouldn’t allow nervousness to put her off her game. This was the big league, and as a nascent business, landing an Ali International contract would place Naomi’s company on an international stage. There was no greater playing field than that.

  Don’t get ahead of yourself, girl, Naomi cautioned herself. First, she had to demonstrate to O’Shea that her firm was the right fit for their needs. She could fantasize about the implications of that later. The lobby of the high rise that housed the international organization was impressive with its highly polished marble floors, floral displays, and floor to ceiling windows. Naomi was conscious of the click of her three-inch stilettos as she crossed the expanse of the area to the receptionists’ station.

  “Good afternoon. How may I serve you,” the receptionist asked with a smile?

  “I have a meeting with Mr. O’Shea Ali,” Naomi replied, smiling in return.

  “Just one moment, please.”

  While the receptionist busied herself with the computer, Naomi focused on her breathing as the butterflies in her stomach seemed to be doing backflips and somersaults.

  “If you would follow me,” the receptionist advised as she stood up from her desk and met N
aomi on the other side.

  There was an impressive number of people moving about in the lobby. When the ladies rode the elevator to the highest floor, the number of occupants riding along with them diminished the higher they rode. By the time the elevator doors opened, Naomi and the receptionist were the only two-stepping out into the hallway. Naomi was mindful to keep pace with the receptionist while taking in the ambiance of the executive floor.

  “Mr. O’Shea is finishing up from his last meeting and will be with you shortly. Make yourself comfortable,” she ushered Naomi to a bank of chairs in a small waiting area.

  “Thank you.”

  Naomi watched as the receptionist trekked back the way they’d come. She was the only person in the waiting area, and it was intimidating. Naomi nodded her head, reminding herself that she was more than ready for what was to come. The walls on the executive floor were all glass. Slightly to the left, Naomi could see one area where the glass was opaque. She presumed that’s where the weekly meeting was held. It didn’t take long before the opaque glass became clear. Naomi could hear voices that she hadn’t heard before. Gripping the handle of her portfolio case, she took another deep breath. It was almost showtime.

  “Ms. Singleton?” O’Shea asked as he entered the waiting area.

  “Yes,” Naomi answered, lifting from the chair.

  “So nice to meet you,” he smiled, extending his hand.

  “Nice to meet you as well,” she replied, accepting his handshake.

  “If you’re ready, we can meet in my office.”