by Briana Cole
Speaking of which, I couldn’t hide my disappointment as I rounded the corner and saw the empty waiting area. I figured even despite our argument yesterday that Jahmad would put his little bullshit attitude to the side and be here anyway. Wishful thinking.
“Good morning, Ms. Davis,” the receptionist greeted as I signed in. I smiled. The staff had gotten quite familiar with me.
“Hi, Shaun. How are the twins?”
The young woman blew an exasperated breath at the casual mention of her double doses of spunky trouble, as she often referred to them. “Woke up this morning and found Mason had tried to make his own cereal and had spilled the whole gallon of milk. And Malik calls himself trying to mop it up with one of my wigs, girl.” Though she rolled her eyes, the loving amusement was evident in the curl of her lips. I had to laugh, trying to picture the morning chaos.
“I don’t know how you do it,” I mused with a smirk.
“I quit on this mommy thing. Just take my two on home with you when you pick up Jamaal.”
I dismissed the playful request with a wave of my hand. “Please. You know you would be lost without those two.”
“Yeah, lost all the way to Jamaica or somewhere.”
I chuckled, thinking about Shaun’s typical mommyhood attitude. She once told me I would be singing that same tune one day. But I kept remembering how my son had straddled life and death too many times to count, and I knew if that happened, it would be way later than sooner.
The NICU was a secure and sterile unit, so I washed my hands using the antibacterial soap dispensers at the entrance before I was buzzed back through the doors. As soon as I stepped into the nursery, I was engulfed in the noise, the bubbling and beeping of equipment working nonstop to keep these tiny humans alive and healthy, nurses and doctors working tirelessly as they consulted in medical lingo over a baby’s cry. A symphony of alarms seemed to serve as a soundtrack to each incubator and the dimmed light added to the intense mood of the nursery. I would never get used to the fast-paced activity. It was truly a scary but seemingly magical environment.
Jamaal’s primary nurse greeted me, and I immediately grabbed his bottle for his feeding as she went about the task of removing him from his crib. At one point, they told me I could breastfeed, but I was apprehensive with his fragile state, so I never bothered. But the medical staff did assure me that skin-to-skin contact was beneficial. So though he wasn’t latched onto my breast, I still took my shirt off so she could lay him on my chest as I popped the bottle in his mouth.
Jamaal’s wide eyes stared curiously into mine as he sucked greedily. I smiled. He was looking more and more like my baby pictures as he grew into his features. I couldn’t detect a hint of Jahmad, nor Leo for that matter, in him. Maybe that was a good thing.
“How you been, my baby?” I whispered, rocking him gently. “Mommy missed you so much. You ready to come home?” I paused, as if he really was answering. “Me too,” I went on and lifted him slightly to brush my lips on his warm cheek. “I can’t wait to get you out of this place. I promise your nursery at home is so much better than this.”
Jamaal polished off the bottle, and I used my thumb to wipe away a little milk that dribbled down his chin. Then I lifted him to my shoulder and gently patted his back, coaxing a tiny burp from his lips. My heart warmed when he seemed to nuzzle closer. I kept rocking and patting, humming some tune. Not long after, his body went still with the exception of his shallow breaths, and I knew he had fallen asleep. I waited a bit longer before handing him to his nurse and watching as she settled him back into his bed. I sighed; not too much longer.
His nurse brought me up to speed. Jamaal was still progressing as expected. Still on track to come home. She gave me the layman’s terms for some recent test results. All positive. I thanked her, took one last look at my perfect son, and left.
I was surprised to see Jahmad in the lobby, sitting forward on one of the hard couches resting his elbows on his knees. His head was down, and at first I couldn’t tell whether he was in deep thought or deep sleep. Apparently, deep thought, I reconsidered when he lifted his face to study me as I walked closer.
“Why didn’t you come in?” I asked as he rose.
“Just wanted to give you your time first.”
“It’s our time,” I said, struggling to hide my annoyance. His half-assed answer sounded like an excuse. “You shouldn’t have waited. He’s asleep now.”
“I’ll just come back later then.” He started to walk past, but I put my hand on his arm to stop him.
“Jahmad, let’s please go somewhere to talk.”
He sighed and, to my surprise, leaned down to kiss me. It wasn’t long, or hell, even passionate, but it was welcome affection that had been absent too many days to count. My lips curved against his.
“We will talk,” he said, his voice reassuring. “Soon. I have to run to the office right now, though.”
I nodded. “Okay. Can I call you later?”
“You better.”
My smile widened at his teasing. “Okay.” I paused, then chanced it. “I love you, Jahmad.”
“I love you too.” Like a hallelujah chorus to my ears.
He strolled off, leaving me grinning in the waiting area. Maybe he was over whatever funk he had been in. Probably work-related. And here I was thinking it was us. But the thing about Jahmad, one of the things I hated and loved about him, when something was bothering him, he tended to close off. It was his way of dealing with it so as not to transfer his stress to others. So when he had done that, immediately I’d assumed it had something to do with our relationship. When he hadn’t given me any conclusions, I’d drawn my own, however false or extreme. Had it been my own guilt-ridden conscience from past mistakes? Jahmad had obviously forgiven me. I needed to keep working on forgiving myself.
“Girl, what’s got you grinning like that?”
I hadn’t even noticed Shaun had walked up to stand beside me. I pursed my lips to hide the smirk, failing miserably.
“Jamaal’s father,” I admitted.
Now it was Shaun’s turn to give a knowing smile. “Listen, I wanted to let you know something.” She shifted closer, lowering her voice. “The doctors will probably tell you too, but just so you know, some guy has been trying to get up in here to see Jamaal.”
The words had a frown creasing my face. The hell?
“A guy?” I said. “What guy? Not Jahmad?”
“No. Someone not on your approved visitor list.” Her eyebrows were furrowed, mirroring the concern I felt. “He always puts Jamaal’s name down and insists he’s Jahmad. But, clearly, we know he’s not.”
“ ‘Always?’ ” I echoed, my concern turning to fear. “It’s been more than once?”
Shaun nodded. “Several times on my shift. And the other girls said they’ve seen him too. They said yesterday he was so persistent to get back there and see Jamaal he had to be police-escorted off the premises.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if that’s true, because, girl, you know how those chicks like to gossip and embellish, but still. I thought . . .” She trailed off, and I nodded my appreciation.
“Thank you for telling me, Shaun. Seriously.”
“Of course.”
“Hey, what does he look like?” I added, though I was sure I had a fairly good idea.
“Black guy. Dark-skinned.”
“Does he have dreadlocks?”
“No, he has a haircut.”
I paused then, remembering the last time I had caught Leo up here when he told me the story of how he had faked his death. He had cut his locs completely off.
“African guy?” I asked, and as I expected, she nodded. I thanked her again as she headed for the hall.
First, he was sending me child support checks to Jahmad’s house, now he was adamant about seeing my child. What the hell was Leo doing? Other than pissing me off. The last thing my family and I needed was him complicating shit. Again. But this time I wasn’t having it. If it was a fight he wanted, then, dammit
, he had the right one.
* * *
The smell of pasta immediately greeted me as I walked into Jahmad’s house. The stupid grin split my face and had me hurriedly putting down my keys and purse, anxious to see what he was up to.
I sure as hell didn’t expect the man to be moving between pots on the stove in basketball shorts slung low on his waist. Even though he may have broken the romantic ambience with a muted basketball game playing on TV, I still couldn’t have been happier. I don’t know what had sparked this little change of heart, but maybe things were finally starting to look up for us. About damn time.
“Hey, handsome,” I greeted, entering the kitchen. “Well, isn’t this a sexy surprise.” I fingered the drawstring of his shorts. “Is there dessert as well?”
Jahmad smirked. “Only if you eat all your food,” he teased. He held the spoon drenched in marinara sauce in my direction, and I obediently licked it.
“Mm,” I moaned my appreciation. “Smooth and savory. Just like I like my men.”
“Girl, you really wanting it, huh?”
“I do,” I whined. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
“Well, you know I will take care of you.” Jahmad replaced the spoon on my lips with his mouth before turning back to stir the sauce.
“Fine.” I exaggerated a pout. “But after we eat, you’re mine.” I opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of wine. Jahmad had already pulled out the flutes so I took the liberty of pouring us each a glass.
“Did you end up making it back to the hospital?” I asked, taking a leisurely sip. “JayJay is looking good. I’ll be glad when he comes home.”
“Yeah, me too. But nah, I couldn’t make it back up there. I meant to, but I had to swing by Goodyear and get some new tires.”
I frowned. “I thought you just got four new ones last month.”
“I did. But one was completely flat when I came out the store. And, hell, the other one had a slow leak.”
I watched him continue to move about casually, but his news seemed anything but casual. I usually was quick to consider things to be coincidences, but that was before. And the fact that Shaun had just mentioned the little hospital incidents with Leo didn’t help ease my apprehension.
“What did they say at the tire place?” I asked, masking my investigation as sheer curiosity.
Jahmad flipped the knobs to turn the stove off and accepted the wineglass I held out to him. “Nothing much,” he answered. “What were they supposed to say?”
“I don’t know. Maybe there was a nail or something. Or if there was a warranty.” I shrugged, trying to ignore that nagging feeling that there was more to this story.
“Nah, they didn’t mention anything, but it’s all good.” Jahmad set his glass down and, taking mine from my hands, set it down as well. He backed me up against the counter, resting his hands on my hips. “Now.” He leaned forward, nuzzling my neck. “Didn’t you say something about dessert?”
“Mmm.” The moan tickled my throat as his lips grazed my skin. Just that fast, all thoughts of those damn tires vanished as my body hummed to life. “I thought you said after we eat.”
“Oh, I plan to eat.” In one swift motion, Jahmad lifted me into his arms and wrapped my legs around his waist, the impression of his dick like steel against my thigh.
I threw my arms around his neck and pulled his face to mine, immediately assaulting his mouth. The way I figured it, we would deal with the other shit in the morning. Tonight, this was us. And, hell, my body needed it.
Chapter 4
“Girl, you should see this villa,” Adria gushed, unable to contain her excitement. “He has it all decked out with rose petals, candles, chocolate-covered strawberries and shit. Who knew behind all that foolishness this boy was really a hopeless romantic.”
I chuckled, repositioning the phone as I continued my trek down the walkway. “You must have brought it out of him,” I said. “My brother is a lot of things, but a hopeless romantic? Hell, no.”
“It must be all this good-good I’ve been putting on him.”
“Adria. I don’t need to know that.”
She laughed, and I had no choice but to laugh with her. This was honestly the happiest I had seen my friend in, probably, ever. “Why are you even calling me anyway?” I asked. “You two just got to Negril. Shouldn’t y’all be doing your honeymoon thing?”
“We are in a minute. I just wanted to call and let you know we got here safely. And also, I have my laptop with me so I can work on some of the financial spreadsheets for the inventory.”
I groaned. Adria’s dedication to this business was both a good and bad thing. “I told you I can handle it,” I told her for what was the umpteenth time. “You took care of a lot before you left. The last thing I need you to be worrying about is work. Do you know the meaning of R.E.L.A.X.?”
“Yes, I plan to do plenty of that. But I told you I wasn’t about to leave you hanging. The grand opening is next month.”
I could only smile as the store came into view. Our sign, Melanin Mystique, was done up in elaborate cursive with both words sharing the first letter M. It was still surreal that this had been a dream only a few years ago, and now, here it was in all its glory and splendor. And sure enough, at Atlantic Station, one of the first locations I had envisioned for this store. All 2,890 square feet belonged to me and my best friend, all the way down to every lipstick, foundation, and eyebrow pencil that graced each glass shelf inside. Each makeup artist had been selected with the same care and precision I would expect of myself. I was proud, and I could not imagine pursuing this new venture on my own, which was why I had insisted Adria and I enter as partners despite me putting up all the money. Seeing the full-fledged benefit of my business arrangement seemed to make the whole ordeal worth it.
“I just want to make sure I’m doing my part,” Adria said, bringing me back to the conversation. “You know it still feels weird for me since you paid for everything but you made me partner.”
“Adria, stop it,” I said, dismissing the comment. “I told you, we are in this together. All of it. This has always been our dream, so stop feeling like you owe me something. That makes me feel bad.”
“I know, but—”
“Plus,” I added quickly, “you are not leaving me hanging. You hired Cinnamon Sugar for me, remember?”
Adria laughed at the nickname I had given the temporary hire. With his warm cinnamon complexion and the way he twisted around the store in his tight, neon-colored V-neck shirts and skinny slacks, I thought the name was more than fitting. The man was clearly sweeter than Alaga maple syrup, but he came to work on the first day with an eager attitude and fun personality. Plus, he knew numbers like nobody’s business and he loved makeup, so I was satisfied. At least until Adria returned.
“Cinnamon Sugar?” She laughed again. “I really hope you’re not calling that man that to his face, Kimmy.”
“Girl, he know he’s gay, and it’s not like he’s trying to hide it.”
“Well, Tyree”—she made sure to emphasize his real name—“sent me some reports yesterday, so it looks like he knows what he’s doing.”
“Yeah, it has only been a week, but so far so good. He’s no Adria, though.”
“Damn right,” she said. “But okay, let me go. Keep me updated on everything, please.”
“No. Enjoy your honeymoon and don’t worry about me. Worry about making my brother some big-head-ass babies.” I disconnected the call on her amused groan. She could play all she wanted. I knew she couldn’t wait to pop out Keon’s children. I smiled, picturing Jamaal having a little gap-toothed cousin to play with. My parents would be in hog heaven.
I swung open the door, and immediately a blast of cool air chilled my arms. The shelves were already in place and nearly all of them stocked with the exception of a few boxes stacked across a wall. Off to one side was the front desk with three cash registers and toward the back were four mirrored stations with high pub chairs for the makeup artist
s’ appointments. An R & B mix played softly through the speakers.
I beamed at the new posters that had just come in, floor-to-ceiling vinyl with black women in various hues of brown, all close-ups of their gorgeous features adorned in boldly flawless makeup. Eye-catching, I had decided as soon as I saw the posters. I was excited too, because Adria had even managed to get in touch with a few of the models, and they had agreed to attend the grand opening. Them bringing their own supporters would generate even more buzz.
The door chimed again, and I turned as the UPS man wheeled in four more boxes on a dolly. “Ms. Kimera Davis?” he asked, and I nodded. He held out a clipboard in my direction. Probably the new business cards, flyers, and marketing materials I ordered. I signed where he indicated, and he left, just as Cinnamon Sugar himself pranced out from the back room.
His black dress slacks hugged his slender frame and a hot pink button-up was tucked into the cinched waist. A headset was planted across his low-cut fade, and he smiled widely when he noticed me standing in the center of the room, exposing glistening white teeth I was sure he had paid good money for. “Oh, good you’re here, boo,” he said. “The DJ for the grand opening canceled, so I called 91.6 and got us DJ Fresh. Plus, they want to do some live coverage on the day of.” His smile widened at my shocked expression. “I know. Did I come through or what?”
I nodded. “You sure did. Awesome job. What would we do without you?”
Tyree winked. “Chile, I ask myself that same question all the time.” He handed me a folder. “I figured Ms. Adria wouldn’t have time to get to them since she’s on her honeymoon, so I went ahead and took care of the financials for the new inventory.” He handed me a sticky note. “And Amber Nicole returned your phone call about the model casting call for the makeup show.” The light on his headset flickered, and he held up a quick index finger in my direction as he pressed the earpiece to answer. “Melanin Mystique, Tyree speaking.” As if suddenly remembering, Tyree used his finger to point up and down at my outfit and snapped his approval. That outfit, yes, boo, he mouthed before turning and strutting off like he was in a fashion show. I muffled a smirk as I glanced down at my designer jumpsuit. Yes, the newbie was certainly a character, but I couldn’t care less, because little Mr. Sweet’N Low was about business. And that’s what I needed. I don’t know where Adria found him, but thank God for precious miracles.
