by C. L. Donley
“Don’t be silly, you look gorgeous, yet again.” he assured her.
“Where are we going?” she purred excitedly.
Holy shit, she was hot. He’d been foolishly expecting a polite office version of Amara, or perhaps even the timid girl who showed up to a party not knowing what to expect. Not the flirty virgin, oozing sexuality, who now knew she was worth a million dollars— at least— and had more than likely been up most of the night as he had, thinking about the evening to come. Grayson instantly put his self doubt by the wayside and turned his settings to “full billionaire.”
“Do you like seafood?” he asked as he offered her his arm. They walked through the lobby and out into the perfect California weather.
“Let’s just say if I was stranded on a desert island, I would not put out an S.O.S.,” she replied.
“Then I hope you haven’t had breakfast because if so, you’re going to hurt yourself at this place,” he hyped.
“Red Lobster, I knew it!!” she said with sarcastic excitement, pumping a fist.
“You hit the jackpot today, girl,” he said smoothly.
She laughed soundlessly, amused that he already felt comfortable enough with her to start ending his sentences with “girl.”
It was already the best day she’d ever had in her life and she had to keep forcing her mind to the present so she wouldn’t overplay her charm hand and screw it all up.
That thing that seemed to happen wherever he went was now happening again, Amara noticed: a flurry of activity, people moving frantically as he moved, and then things simply appearing. It was as though the entire world around him was enchanted and she watched with fascination, though no one seemed to notice her, only him. He was always respectful and polite to them all, saying “please” and “thank you” wherever necessary. But other than that, hardly any words were spoken and she was left to deduce what was happening after the fact. On this occasion, as they walked down the entrance stairs someone directed them to stand to the side, a “please” and a “thank you” exchanged. Grayson continued to make small talk with her, and then was suddenly handed a set of keys. A beautiful black Mercedes convertible appeared before them with tan stitched leather, and they were directed to get in it. She wasn’t even entirely sure he owned this car or not, but she had to assume he did.
The traffic was bumper to bumper so that they were basically still in front of the hotel. Amara sensed a strange energy, almost like she was being watched, but she shook it off. She turned in the passenger seat to face him, her body facing forward and her chin resting on her bare left shoulder.
“So, I’m dying to know what they said to you downstairs, last night after you left.” Amara volunteered.
He huffed and smiled, his eyes on the road. “Basically… they asked what happened and I told them the truth.”
“Which was?” she asked.
“That it was late and you were tired.”
“No, you were tired,” she shook her head, smiling. “And then they of course made fun of you.”
“How did you know?” he sarcastically replied.
“Did you come back with anything?”
He laughed and glanced over at her before returning his eyes to the road. “Sort of.”
“What did you say?” she wondered, already giggling in anticipation.
He smiled and took in a breath. “They basically said that I should’ve went for it anyway… to which I replied, ‘not in a shithole like this,’” he regaled.
“Oh God, and they friggin’ loved that,” Amara growled, rolling her eyes behind her sunglasses.
“Right again,” he laughed.
“Trash talking amongst men knows no color, I guess.”
“Apparently not,” he said. After a moment passed he continued. “Can I say something that could possibly be misconstrued as racist?”
“Please do, I’ve been waiting,” she said.
“You’ve been waiting?”
“No, I mean like, ready to get it over with.”
Grayson cocked his head to the side with a look and then pressed on. “You seem to be able to… maneuver rather seamlessly between worlds. Black and white, I mean. Does that make sense?”
She frowned, and he glanced towards her in time to see her furrowed brow and shaking head, as though ignorant of what he could be referring to.
Another joke. He smiled. Her expression softened. She let her gaze linger on him through her glasses while he looked straight ahead.
“I can’t be the first person you’ve ever met like that,” she said.
“No, not the first,” he confirmed. “And different ethnicities, of course. You remind me of my friend Bel,” he said.
“As in Bel Hafiz, the creator of MeTv,” Amara confirmed in wonderment.
He nodded. “But I admire your… fluency. You take it a step further by trying to make everyone feel comfortable. You use humor.”
He was using his professional persona she could see now. The traffic was starting to let up and he looked ridiculously debonnaire switching the exquisitely smooth gears of the car.
“I grew up in suburbia so I guess on some level it’s all I’ve known,” she started. “I was born in a pretty small town in the midwest. One of those with one supermarket, one street light, that whole bit. I moved to Nashville when I was in high school and it was pretty suburban by anyone else’s standards but for me, seeing more than one or two other black families was a bit of a shock. Never met anyone who grew up like me until I was an adult.”
“So what I’m seeing is really the discomfort of not feeling truly part of either world?” he concluded.
Damn, he was hot when he did that.
Amara turned to look straight ahead. Her body had at some point twisted in his direction.
“My goodness. I didn’t know a psychoanalysis was going to be part of the deal,” she said.
“I need to know the fitness of your mental state,” he bantered.
“Makes me wonder what else you’ve been deducing about me,” she mumbled.
He unconsciously burst into a mischievous sideways grin as he glanced over at her. She was still staring at the road with a faint smile in her eyes.
He shifted from third to fourth gear on the highway and the wind whipped around them.
“You really want to know?” he teased. He had to raise his voice over the wind noise and the engine revved.
Amara bit her lip as her smile reached full wattage. Her volume matched his. “Not yet.”
They finally made it to the restaurant that looked like a hole in the wall along the pier.
They sat at a table overlooking the water. Everything seemed to be made of driftwood and wide windows with no panes. It wasn’t as high falutin’ as Red Lobster, but it was one of his favorite places, and he knew Amara would love it.
As soon as they were seated the hostess asked, “Shall I have the waiter order The Works for you, Mr. Davis?” and Grayson politely confirmed.
They watched fishing boats roll in and out as they chatted and joked about various things. Amara told the elaborate journey of her packed belongings, and how they ended up in her hotel without ever having seen them once since Dale had picked her up.
“How’d you like first class?”
“It was business class actually, and it was a lovely 90 minutes,” Amara answered.
“Cheap bastard,” Grayson said.
“We can’t all have private planes,” she protested. “I thought it was more than generous of him. He was very accommodating.”
Grayson was smiling but he suddenly, guardedly said, “I’m done talking about Dale.”
Amara just stared at him. She couldn’t tell if he was serious. She got the sense he was.
“He only spoke highly of you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not worried about anything, I just don’t want to talk about him,” he said.
“Damn,” she said, playfully disappointed. “Now I really, really want to talk about hi
m.”
“Well I don’t,” his blue eyes abruptly meeting her brown ones, penetrating them. He was either angry, or about to ravish her.
She looked at the water, fleeing his intense gaze. Part of her wanted to push him further, but she didn’t dare.
“Okay…wanna talk about you then?”
“Not really,” he frowned as he shook his head, tracing his fingers along the coaster under his glass.
Amara nearly offered herself up as a topic but she didn’t want to risk his adverse reaction. Plus she didn’t much feel like talking about herself either, not when her future was infinitely more interesting.
“What, then shall we discuss?” she wondered aloud.
“Your breasts,” he said.
Her shoulders went concave with a soft chuckle.
“What about them?”
“Let me see them,” he said lowering his voice.
“No,” she blurted with a laugh.
Grayson squirted a slice of lemon in his mouth before adding it to his glass.
“Please,” he said.
Amara broke into laughter. She twirled the straw in her glass with a finger.
“Not really the best dress for that sort of thing,” she continued shyly.
“If you were wearing a different dress, would you?”
“Would I what?” Amara said smiling, trying to get him to ask her again.
“Show me your boobs,” he asked her again.
Amara cackled in a high pitch squeal as he simply stared at her, amusement in his eyes.
“It’s comforting to know that underneath every successful genius billionaire is just… a dude,” she conceded.
“As it is knowing under every erudite, young, exotic thing in a bright yellow dress is just a woman,” he replied.
“There it is,” Amara sighed, her eyes widening for a moment as she toyed with her water glass.
“What?”
“‘Exotic.’”
“You don’t like being exotic?” he asked.
“I’m not exotic.”
“Isn’t that subjective?” he argued.
“You’re not exotic to me,” she posited. “If I pass you every day, and one day you decide to notice me, I fail to see how that makes me exotic.”
“Certainly there’s more to familiarity than proximity, Amara. You think the reason men don’t approach you is because they don’t notice you?” he asked, a faint trace of disbelief in his voice. “Because I can tell you right now that’s fucking ridiculous.”
“My alma mater was 3 percent minority. Not black, I’m talking all minorities,” Amara relayed. “You know what kind of dating pool specifically chooses a university to attend that’s only 3 percent minority? Not the kind that’s interested in Amara Riley, that’s who.”
“Irrelevant,” he flatly said.
“Is that so,” Amara laughed at his self assurance.
“I guarantee you it was a matter of intimidation, not lack of interest.”
“Oh God, if one more person tells me I’m intimidating I’m going throw myself into that river, right there,” Amara groaned.
“If I were your age, and not a billionaire, I’d be intimidated by you,” Grayson said undeterred.
“Really?” Amara answered as if enlightened. “So if we were born at the same time, attended the same school, and were in the same classes, and talked like we’re talking now, you wouldn’t have asked me out?”
“Absolutely not.”
“What?!” Amara shrieked.
Grayson explained, apologetic. “The Grayson you’re describing is not the Grayson you know now, so no, I would not have been asking you out.”
Amara seemed dismayed so he continued.
“For guys it’s a simple matter of odds. If we don’t think a girl would be into us, given the odds, we likely won’t try. And even with a formula we strike out. A lot. It takes a toll on the psyche.”
“When did you ever strike out?” Amara scoffed.
“Well….never. I mean, not really. But I never really tried until I was about your age.”
“About the time you created Webster?” she inquired.
“Well it wasn’t called that, but yeah I suppose so,” he recalled.
“So what changed?”
“I became…exotic,” he raised his eyebrows as he said the word. He sipped his drink.
Amara smiled. “Yeah, I’ve seen the before pictures.”
He laughed. “Have you seen Dale’s?”
“I thought we weren’t talking about him?” Amara teased.
“I’m always willing to talk about Dale’s emo phase,” Grayson replied enthusiastically.
“You know he almost picked up the wrong black girl at the airport?” Amara dished.
Grayson chuckled triumphantly as he looked towards the boats on the water, his profile turning Amara’s mouth to a desert. “That fucking loser,” he calmly smirked. Amara giggled.
Lunch went on lazily and deliciously. Each of them were charming yet guarded towards the other. Even when it became obvious in the silences that their minds were on other things, they never admitted it. He watched her watch the scenery, eating and savoring every morsel as though it were her last. Everything was the catch of the day. She marveled as fresh things were fished out with large nets, brought to the kitchen or sometimes directly to the table, and diversely prepared. After several courses of this she indeed nearly hurt herself.
“Oh my God,” she sighed, sounding content yet concerned.
“Good?” he simply inquired.
“Yes. I don’t get why you seem fine.”
“I’ve already learned my lesson once.” he said, taking a swig of a beer.
“I’d do it again,” she said wincing.
He laughed and glanced at his watch.
Jesus, it was only 3pm. It was the longest day in history. He should’ve been savoring the infinite nature of the moment, the fact that he was genuinely enjoying her company, but on some level he couldn’t. Couldn’t stop thinking about tonight. He cursed the lengthy summer days.
He absently took another morsel of food to his mouth as he said, “If this is any indication of your overall appetite then I must tell you, I’m pretty excited.”
The comment was meant to make her laugh but instead she seemed to grow anxious and was silent for a moment before she spoke with a confessional tone.
“So…I’ve put off telling you this for long enough…”
His stomach dropped to his ankles.
Dear God please no… she’s not backing out of this is she? he thought.
He was silent as the grave as she continued.
“So, I told my friends about our… arrangement.”
“Friends with an ‘s’?”
“Yes, two of my closest friends Mya and Kim. Mya’s my roommate and Kim is a lawyer back in Nashville.”
“Uh huh,” he urged.
“So Kim was totally all for it—”
“And Mya?”
“…Pretty sure Mya hates you, but back to Kim, who’s the reason I bring this up.”
“Okay.”
“So….’member how I told you she was a lawyer?”
“Five seconds ago? Yes.”
“Well…she…drew up a contract. For us. Well…for me.”
Grayson was staring at her when he suddenly broke into a smile at her words, as if she was the cutest thing living. Amara involuntarily stopped breathing.
“Let me see it.” he slowly blinked.
She reached into her bag and found her phone while he fished his out of his coat pocket. Her hands were trembling so she lowered the phone to her lap to keep them from view. When she did, it gave him a few unobserved moments to drink her in, a single digit grazing back and forth across his lips as he did so.
She opened her Webster app and sent him the link, hearing the vibration of his own phone within seconds. Then it was her turn to watch him. She studied his eyes as he quickly, adeptly skimmed over the legalese, taking whole pages i
n within seconds, intermittently grinning from ear to ear. At one point his eyes went wide and he glanced up at her. She knew which part he’d gotten to. Her hands flew to cover her face, meeting her head halfway down.
“A pull out clause?”
“She wrote it, not me,” her voice muffled behind her hands.
“Tell your friend I really like her.” he said dryly as he continued.
She peeked at him through her fingers as he got to the end.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“I’m thinking you’re lucky to have a friend who’s a lawyer.”
“You’re not offended?”
He chuckled. “I’m offended that you would think I would be offended.”
Amara sat back and let a gust of air out of inflated cheeks.
Grayson snickered into his beer bottle, phone still in the other hand. “You were worried about that contract this whole time?” he said.
“Pardon me if I’m not well versed in the art of sex negotiation.” she said.
“A little louder for tables in the back,” he said.
“Sorry,” she laughed. He glanced up at her from his phone as he got to the electronic signature page.
“Haven’t heard one of those in awhile,” he grinned.
Amara returned his grin shyly.
Another tense silence followed that would soon become one of their last, because suddenly Grayson broke in.
“So technically, once I sign this, that means we can…start.”
He looked at her then, with eyes completely unveiled and desire nakedly radiating through them.
Amara didn’t know if she was nauseous, horny, scared, or near death. Her body seemed to be responding to his gaze as if it were so unfamiliar with the stimulation, it just started doing anything in response.
Grayson couldn’t help snickering. His eyes glittered and he looked at her with admiration.
“You look positively terrified right now,” he said.
“Because a second ago, my biggest problem was telling you about that contract and now…”
