by Claire Angel
“I’m mad at you, you know,” she said when she answered the call.
“Hi, Momma, I thought you might be.”
“You promised you’d come to visit. You know I can’t go for very long without seeing my boy,” she teased.
“Sorry, Ma. Soon, I promise. How’s Dad?”
“He’s doing fine, which is more than I can say for myself.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Ever since he retired two months ago, he has been driving me nuts! The house looks like a woodwork experiment, and the shed is a minefield. Not to mention the to-do list he left for my attention. Can you imagine that? My attention! I can’t believe Margaret put up with him for so many years.”
Margaret was my father’s PA for thirty years. She could read his mind and made sure he had everything he needed before he even asked. Mom had her own projects and causes to run, so she was relieved to have Margaret. Dad was in insurance. He built up his company from one small firm to an international brand. He was a healthy mix of book smart and streetwise, which took him far in business.
I was an only child, and my mom doted on me, something fierce. How I didn’t turn out a hen pecked sissy boy was one of life’s true mysteries. It was partly thanks to the strict boarding school my Dad chose for me. He was a disciplinarian, like his father, and believed a little suffering was good for the soul. At the time I thought he was mean, but were it not for his parenting, I would most likely be a spoiled rich brat with no ambition, and too much blow.
“Sounds like you need an official trip away. I hear there are many excellent humanitarian causes in Fiji, this time of year.”
“You are a brat. If I leave him now, he’ll bury himself in a mountain of balsa wood and half-eaten turkey sandwiches.”
“I’ll be home soon, Ma. I’ll get him out of your hair for a while.”
“And that’s why I endured twelve hours of labor with you, my son.”
“Yeah, payback is a kick in the pants.”
“Damn right, Sonny Boy. You owe me large!” Mom laughed.
“Love you, Ma. See you soon.”
“Love you back.”
I adored my mother. She was the perfect combination of tough as nails, and soft as runny cheese. I imagined it was tricky being married to a workaholic, overachiever like my father, but she handled him with such finesse that he was clueless when she got him to do things her way. Brilliant woman—a force to be reckoned with.
At 8 pm, the concierge rang me to tell me that the car was ready. I looked forward to a tasty meal and good conversation. The Moralez brothers and I weren’t ever going to talk each other to death. The subtleties of language and cultural differences notwithstanding, we got on well.
The bar where we met was an excellent balance of modern chic and traditional Spanish fare. The tapas spread was incredible. No food item was off-limits. In fact, you could eat your way around the world, all on one plate. After a good few Cerveza, the brothers and I parted ways, and I went back to the hotel to nurse my jet lag. I had meetings with other players in Algeciras, the biggest port city in Spain, and I wanted to be alert.
After the last meeting scheduled for my Spain trip was concluded, I made a decision to take some time off. I’d visit my parents, and then spend a week or so at my cabin in Aspen. It was me time, and it was a long time coming.
Chapter 5
JAYDE
The murderous work schedule put a serious strain on my sense of humor. ‘Careful what you wish for’ they say, and that was never more true than after the fabric hit our warehouse. Making one thousand percent sure that every order was delivered to our clients to my exact standards was a tough call. Gilly and I spent more time than usual at work, and when we weren’t at the office, we had a phone glued to our ears at home.
I was used to the mayhem, or so I told myself. Some days I forgot to eat. Ridiculous, but true. After two weeks of deadlines and screaming matches with our seamstresses, followed by humble apologies, I was ready for a dash of comfortably numb.
“If I have to check one more hem, or correct another line, I’m going to lose my fucking mind,” I said to Gilly one evening, as we sat on the floor in my office, finishing up.
“Oh, good. I thought it was just me.”
“That’s it. Drop that pile of printouts, and let's get the hell out of here.”
“I love you so very much right now!” Gilly smiled. “Besides, if you don’t eat soon, you’re going to fall through your own ass.”
“No, please, tell me what you really think,” I said sarcastically.
I dropped what I was doing, got up off the soft carpet, and grabbed my car keys.
“It’s Mustang time, bitches! Come on, my little brainbox, let’s go. I’ll drive.”
“Sushi and sake?” Gilly asked.
“Fuck, no! Cheeseburgers and tequila shots. To the batmobile, Robin!”
“Right behind ya, Batman.”
It was a little out of the way, but Burgers and Babes was a joint well worth traveling to if you were a connoisseur of buns, beef, and everything but the kitchen sink of sides.
“That smells amazing!” Gilly said as we pulled into the car park. The diner was teeming with burger grease junkies, so Gilly and I had to fight our way through to a table.
“I can’t believe we haven’t been here in so long. Especially after we basically lived here when we were in college.”
It took a while for the waitress to get to our table, so Gilly and I looked around the joint and reminisced.
“I think if I had to wait on tables ever again, I’d throw myself in front of a moving bus during rush hour.” Gilly rolled her eyes.
“I hated it! Lots of work, very little money, and way too many handsy jerks. It’s a wonder neither of us got our asses arrested. Remember when I broke that jackass’s nose?”
“That was brilliant, Jayde. The applauding waitresses all agreed.”
“Dipshit.”
“Hi, I’m Amber. What can I get you?” A student-looking girl, with pretty eyes and two deep dimples, introduced herself.
The wait gave Gilly and me more than enough time to scan the menu on the black board. Not that we needed to, mind you. Our erstwhile home hadn’t changed much. Their motto was, ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’, and I couldn’t argue with that.
“Hey, Amber. I’ll have the Texan Tongue Twister, with all the fixings.” I looked across the table at Gilly. She nodded. “Make that two. And a steady stream of margaritas, thanks,” I said to a very bubbly waitress.
“Sure thing.” She beamed and off she went.
“Speaking of dipshits,” I said, thinking one last time about the drunk creatures with bad intentions we used to dodge, “guess who had the nerve to call me? I’ll give you a hint, it was Kyle.”
Gilly laughed, then said, “What did that jerkoff want?”
“To apologize.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? He sleeps his way through the phone directory, while he’s engaged to you, and he wants to apologize?”
“Yup, I sure know how to pick ‘em, don’t I?”
“Rubbish. That guy is a genius when it comes to bullshit. If lying was an Olympic sport, he'd walk away with gold every time,” Gilly sneered.
She was right. There was no way I could have seen it coming. He was new in town, and there were whispers here and there that he wasn’t what one would call a saint, but the guy was a manwhore savant.
“What did you say?”
“I told him I was pining for him, and if he gave me another chance I’d make him the happiest man alive.”
“Okay, ask a stupid question.” Gilly snickered.
“I told him to fuck off.”
“That’s my girl! Good for you.” Gilly grinned.
“I did have an embarrassing moment though.”
“Oh, dear. What did you do?”
“After I told Kyle what he could do with his apology, and cut him off at the knees, the phone rang again.”
&nbs
p; “The man is shameless!” Gilly looked pissed.
“I swore like a sailor at the caller, but it wasn’t Kyle. It was Aidan.”
“Hhmm, oops. Not ideal, I’ll give you that. What did the poor man say?”
“He took it in stride, thank goodness. Thought it was amusing, I think.”
“He’s such a catch! I’d dump Dan’s ass in a New York minute if he gave me half a chance.”
“Gilly! You tart!”
She let out a raucous laugh. “What did he want? I thought you said he was in Spain.”
“He was. He called to see if I got my shipment of fabric.”
“I see. Interesting.”
“Stop grinning. He was being thorough. That’s why he’s a billionaire. No detail too small.”
“Oh, come on, Jayde. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about bumping uglies with that super stud.”
“No, we’re just good friends, Gilly. Besides, he doesn’t like me in that way. He is gorgeous, and a genuinely good guy, but I don’t want to be with any man who doesn’t absolutely adore me.”
“Are you sure about that? Have you ever really looked? With all the shit with Kyle, you may have missed a cue,” Gilly said, as the waitress put our drinks on the table.
“I don’t think so, Gilly. He was very sweet when Kyle ripped out my heart, but that’s what good friends do, right? He was just being a good friend. In the two years we’ve known each other, he’s never once made a serious pass at me. Playful banter, a bit of harmless flirting, but nothing serious.”
“Don’t shut your heart, Jayde. I know Kyle hurt you deeply, but don’t close yourself off to new opportunities. I’m not saying you should hump your way through town, but don’t throw away the key to your chastity belt just yet.”
“Thank you, Dr. Phil. Now, can I eat my burger, please?”
“Oh, shut up, and eat, you big girl.”
“Thank you. No more men talk, or I’ll lose my appetite altogether.”
After devouring what seemed to be the entire ass end of a cow, and finishing off at least one bottle of tequila, Gilly and I went home and hit the hay, hard.
I must have slept dead because when I looked at my watch the next morning, it was noon. Nothing like beef and repurposed cactus to knock a girl out. I worked through my list of missed calls while I savored my morning coffee. Most of them were the usual work fires looking for a firehose, but one message caught my attention.
‘Hi, Jayde, it’s Aidan.
If I’m not mistaken, you owe me dinner? I’m ready when you are. Call me.’
I was glad to hear from him. We had great banter, and dinner with a few laughs was a welcome distraction from the business end of a busy year for me. I suspected that Dan was tired of sharing Gilly with me, not that he’d ever say so. I called Aidan after breakfast.
“I hear you’re in desperate need of a good meal. What’s wrong? Chef chip a nail? Or did Mastercard cut you off?”
“Well, hello. I was starting to think you’d reneged on our verbal agreement,” he said in his smooth as silk voice.
“And go toe to toe with the formidable Aidan Davis? Never. I learned early on in my career not to mess with those who have access to the open seas.”
“Smart girl. You wouldn’t want to walk the plank, now would you?” He laughed.
“Do you need to check your airtight schedule, or shall we make it tomorrow evening at 8?” I asked.
“I’ll have to cancel my meeting with the president, but anything for you, dearest Jayde.”
“Glad to see you have your priorities straight,” I said. “I feel an eating fest coming on, so wear your casuals.”
“Sounds intriguing. Where are we going?”
“It’s new. I’ll pick you up in the Mustang,” I said.
“I’ll clean up nice and be ready.”
“Cool. See you tomorrow.”
A friend told me about a new Ethiopian restaurant, Be‘ali, that had opened downtown. I was adventurous when it came to new cuisine, and the best was that we’d eat with our hands. I hoped my dinner guest was up for the challenge. Knowing Aidan, he probably spoke fluent Amharic.
I had no intention of going to the office. I was sorely in need of a break, so I put on my sweats, ordered a pizza, and binge-watched my favorite shows.
Chapter 6
AIDAN
I nearly swallowed my tongue when I saw Jayde in her tight blue jeans, black string top under a tan leather jacket, and pumps that made her already shapely calves downright sinful. I tried my best not to gush.
“Your taxi is here, Mr. Davis.” She smiled, her green eyes radiating.
“Who’s the lucky boy?” I smiled back.
“You hungry, handsome?”
“Is a duck’s ass watertight?” I grinned.
“Okay, smartypants, let’s go.”
Jayde was one of the best drivers I’d ever known. She was all woman, but she drove like a NASCAR pro. The Mustang weaved in and out of traffic, Jayde’s favorite music blaring into the open air. I smiled as she sang along at the top of her voice. She wasn’t exactly a sure win, American Music Award candidate, but she held her own.
“How was your trip to Spain?” she yelled above the noise of the music and the car engine.
“All good,” I shouted back, “nothing unexpected.”
“It’s been a busy year, huh.”
“And then some. I’m taking a break for a few weeks. Going to visit my parents for a week, and then I’m going to squirrel myself away at my cabin in Aspen.”
“Sounds heavenly,” she said, hitting a hard left down one of the side streets.
“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it. Why don’t you and Gilly come along? There’s plenty of space for everyone, and Aspen is gorgeous this time of year.”
“Sounds tempting. Not sure if Gilly will come without Dan.”
“They’re both very welcome. Joey’s coming too. He’s always good for a laugh.”
“That he is,” she said. “Sounds great. I’ll chat to Gilly and let you know. Thanks, Aidan.”
“No problem. Now, where are you taking me?”
“It’s right there.” She pointed and slowed down.
“Be‘ali. Can’t say I’ve ever heard of it,” I commented.
“It’s brand new. A friend told me to check it out.”
“Ethiopian?” I asked.
“It must be nice to be such a know-it-all.” She grinned.
“It’s a dirty job, but someone’s gotta do it.”
I’d been to Ethiopia a few times, but I wasn’t going to burst Jayde’s bubble. Plus, I didn’t want to come across a brat who’d been everywhere and knew everything. Jerks like that were a pain in the ass.
The decor was pretty much standard for the type of cuisine served. The tables were low to the ground, with large scatter cushions for diners to sit on, and colorful Tagine pots adorning the surfaces. Jayde looked like a kid in a candy store. I loved a woman who wasn’t afraid to eat.
Once we were seated at a table for two, a waiter brought the menu over to us. We ordered Tej, Ethiopia's Honey Wine, then settled in for a relaxing evening of good food and plenty of banter. Jayde and I got on well. We’d clicked from the first moment we met. It was easy talking to her. She was uncomplicated, to the point, and a lot of fun to be with. Her looks didn’t hurt either.
Occasionally I caught myself watching her luscious lips as she spoke, or staring longingly into her emerald eyes. After two years, I’d become skilled at hiding my intense desire for her. She was in a particularly playful mood, laughing, teasing, and inhaling handfuls of food—she managed to make eating with her hands look elegant.
“I apologize for poking the bear,” I said, “but I can’t forget the tongue lashing I got over the phone last week. Is that worm, Kyle, still bothering you?”
“Sorry about that—again. You must have thought I’d turned batshit crazy overnight.”
“The thought did occur to me. He is bugging you?”
&nbs
p; “No, not really. Apart from the last unfortunate incident, I haven’t heard from him in months.”
“If you have any trouble with that shameless gold digger, you let me know. I know a guy.” I grinned.
“I’ll remember that.” She smiled. “How about you?” she asked.
“How about me what?”
“Don’t be coy. Are there any viable ‘plus ones’ out there hunting down the great Davis?”
“Always.” I chuckled.
“You arrogant asshole.” She laughed and threw a napkin at me.
“Hey, I can’t help it if the ladies throw themselves at me. I am quite a catch, you know.” My wicked smile made her roll her eyes.
“Stop stalling,” she said. “Anyone serious?”
“No. I’ve been way too distracted for a meaningful relationship. Any dating now would be a drive-by shooting.”
“Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am?”
“Something like that. How about you?”
“I’m putting my heart on ice for a bit. Clearly, I have terrible taste when it comes to men. I must have a rotten picker or something.”
“Don’t let one asshole spoil you for the rest of our sex.”
“I hear you. What looks good to you?” she asked, looking through the menu choices. “My Amharic isn’t great.” She giggled. “Thank goodness they have English descriptions, or I might order a Walia Ibex by mistake.”
“Yeah, I hear they’re quite tough to chew through.”
“Haha.”
The menu offered a decent variety of dishes.
Injera (sourdough flatbread)
Tibs (sautéed meat chunks)
Shiro be Kibbe (legume stew)
Berbere (typical spice blend)
Kitfo (Ethiopian beef tartare)
“I say we order a bit of everything,” Jayde said, excitedly.
“You read my mind.”
We were on our third glass of Tej when the meal came.
“Just in time,” she smiled, “this Tej is kicking my butt.”
“That’s it. I’m driving home.”
“Like hell. No one drives my baby but me,” she said, and I knew she meant it. “There are four things I don’t share, and my Mustang is one of them.”
