But I ain’t that chick.
And this world was filled with plenty dudes promising to make it better. Probably like my dad was doing right now with “the next one.”
Not saying Julian was one of them, but . . .
Just sayin’.
“Thank you. I mean it. Really. And I’ll keep that in mind, Julian,” I responded.
“So are you ready for dessert then?”
“I am way too stuffed, but thank you.”
“And here I thought I’d get a chance to feed you Bananas Foster or something,” he teased, making my toes curl just a little beneath the table.
“And I love Bananas Foster, but I’m gonna take a pass tonight. Maybe we can work on that another time.”
“Promise?”
“No. But I’ll consider it.”
“Fine then,” he said as he signaled for the waiter to bring the check. No telling how many people we were cheating out of a night this nice and I did feel kind of guilty about it.
“I just need to stop in the powder room real quick,” I told Julian as I moved my chair away from the table.
“I’ll be here,” he said as he got up from his seat to excuse me.
Inside the restroom, I slowed to smile at myself in the mirror. I’d handled my biz pretty well tonight and had allowed myself some serious moments of fun. Good for me. Definitely beat a day of collections back in Houston. Or, dealing with my mother and sister. But, after today’s activities, that bed was gonna be nothin’ nice.
And I could wake up whenever the fuck I wanted!
Sometimes it’s the little things, ya dig.
I popped my clutch open to reapply some lipstick. I’d hurriedly transferred a few things to it from my purse before rushing here. Curiously, one of those items was the driver Lowell’s business card.
“Oh shit!” I blurted out as I remembered that I promised to “Like” his business on Facebook. And if I didn’t do it now, it wasn’t gonna happen. Nothing I couldn’t take care of with a few clicks on my phone, so I proceeded to find his car service and click the ubiquitous button. Feeling proud of delivering on my promise, I touched up my lips, did a quick once-over in the mirror, then merrily bounced.
When I came out, Julian was thanking the maître d’ and entire staff for tonight.
“Thank you all,” I added, knowing all too well how it is to slave away for someone else with no recognition or appreciation.
Julian took my hand as he led me to the elevators past a line of hungry folk ready to dine now that we were gone. Yet, something told me their experiences wouldn’t be half as good as mine.
“What is it that you do back in Connecticut?” I asked to make small talk between us. When I agreed to this date, I never expected the conversation to go so easy with him.
“Besides yelling at people?” he teased, making fun of himself. “I own an advertising firm. Started off working for this nice Jewish guy. He was demanding, but fair. Opened a lot of doors for me that I couldn’t have gotten in on my own. Anyway, he didn’t really have any family, so when he prepared to retire, he made me an offer I couldn’t pass up. A few years ago, I picked up a janitorial franchise to diversify in this economy. Now it’s bringing in just as much as my first baby. But always room for improvement, y’know.”
“Even though I was hard on you at first, I’m always proud of successful brothers,” I said as I allowed myself to absently rub Julian’s back. I was getting a little too comfortable.
“How long are you here?” he asked as the elevator opened, exposing the glass globe that was ever breathtaking.
“Just a few more days,” I said softly. At which point I would be dragged away kicking and screaming while being accused of being a crazy woman.
“Y’know, it doesn’t have to end right here. Allow me to walk you back to your suite. I do know the way after all,” he joked.
“True, but I need to walk some of this meal off. But don’t worry about me, Mr. Jackson. I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”
“I noticed,” he chimed before suddenly catching himself. “And before you think I’m going there, I don’t have any problems with you being full figured. It’s a preference of mine. Not that I’m assuming this dinner would be all I’d have to do to win you over or something.”
“I gotcha. Ain’t got no hang-ups on being me anyway.”
“Good. And I don’t even know if I could win you over. For all I know, you need to call someone back home and check in. Spouse, or anyone else?” he asked, testing me now.
“Nah. When I say a walk this meal off, I mean just that. I’m a widow. And my last relationship . . . ended suddenly,” I said, holding a shudder at bay.
“Good,” he said with a smile. “Not about your relationship ending suddenly, but . . .”
“Julian, relax. I got it,” I said as I gave him a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for redeeming yourself,” I said before stepping on to the elevator.
“Y’know, Artemis,” he called out before the doors closed to shuttle me away, “being fearless sometimes ain’t bad.”
“Oh, I ain’t afraid of you, boy. But thanks for the advice,” I commented with a wink.
I strolled through the hotel and casino for half an hour, getting a lay of the land while people-watching as I processed the evening’s events. By the time I returned to my suite, I was dead ready for killer zzz’s. But looking at Ladonna’s door and Julian’s even farther down the hall, I wondered what fabulousity was going on in their worlds right now.
“Girl, follow your first mind,” I said to myself as I used my key card.
Just inside the door to my suite, I felt a buzz from my clutch. It was my phone, probably announcing a missed call from either my mother Ruth or my sister Anitra. They weren’t going to ruin this though.
But it wasn’t a missed call. It was a text.
I didn’t recognize the number, but thought maybe it was Julian checking on me.
The message read:
You like me, you really do! Well . . . really my business. Thanks, Ms. Clay. :-) -Lowell.
My wonderful driver. I grinned, forgetting he had my cell number on record and must’ve noticed my Facebook favor.
Welcome. :-)
I texted back as I admired my suite once again on my way to the bedroom. After dinner tonight with Julian, I did feel a little odd carrying on a text conversation with my driver. But this was harmless.
Until the next text read:
What r u doing tomorrow?
Oh.
Chapter 12
Last night’s sleep was so complete that a bitch didn’t even dream. A serious thread-count, pillow-top induced coma. The only thing I’d change was maybe having a nice man to wake up to. But I didn’t know if Julian would be who I’d pick right now. Maybe somebody like Columbus Short from the ABC TV show Scandal. Shonda Rhimes knew exactly what she was doing when she cast him, for he could certainly do some “damage control” for me. And who knew? Maybe I’d be in need of a firm like the fictional Olivia Pope’s once my misadventure was all said and done.
After a nice shower, I got my day underway with a little fresh fruit and Greek yogurt courtesy of room service. Then, while still nursing a slight hangover, I squeezed in a body scrub and hot stone massage in the hotel spa. The running tab of debt in my head had me wanting to dial back on the tips, but these people shouldn’t have to suffer due to me. Still, I tried to keep everything around 20 percent and nothing higher.
It was close to lunchtime when I lazily strolled back to my room to determine what next lay in store. I didn’t think I could handle another day at poolside in the hot sun pretending I could hang, so maybe blowing my complimentary chips in the casino might be more appealing. Who knew? Maybe I’d run into Julian at the poker table and see if any peculiar magic from last night’s dinner still lingered? Hell, I probably was just looking for any experience to postpone the inevitable return home.
As I turned my phone back on, it began ringing. Speak
of the devil, I thought as I saw the area code. Except it wasn’t Julian. It was the same number that had texted me last night after dinner.
Lowell, the driver.
“I guess you’re wanting my answer?” I asked, rather than greeting him. I didn’t reply to his text last night because I was too tired and frankly didn’t know what to say.
“Well, when you didn’t reply, I assumed you were busy,” Lowell offered.
“I was,” I commented in a discrete voice as I walked past a loud group of men in even louder shirts. Dudes cared for their eyebrows and hair-care products way too much as they went about yapping like a bunch of women in the beauty shop.
“And now?” he pushed.
“Not so much,” I replied, remembering those pretty green eyes of his from the airport that made me grin.
“Have you had lunch?” he followed up.
“No. I just left the spa and haven’t even begun my day.”
“Then you have to allow me to treat you to one of the best spots in Vegas,” he insisted.
“What if I’m still too busy?” I countered. What was it with these men out here trying to woo me with food instead of diamonds ’n’ furs? It better not be a big-girl thang.
“Too busy to be chauffeured around in style? Really? Like I said before, I’m at your beck and call. This one is totally on me.”
“I don’t know, Lowell,” I said, my reluctance evident in my voice although I liked the idea of a free limo ride. “I’m not looking for anything overly pretentious or complicated today.”
“Well if you want to ‘slum it’ for a change, then you’re in luck,” he stated with a haughty laugh. “Because, I’m talking barbecue, little lady. That is . . . unless a Texas girl like you is intimidated.”
“Intimidated? By Vegas barbecue? Puh-lease! Bring it on,” I crowed too loudly in the hallway as the elevator door opened to take me to my floor.
“Good. Knew that would get ya,” he said smugly. “I’m downstairs in the lobby. Take your time getting ready. I’m off today. But dress comfortable. You can save your fancy designer clothes for another time.”
“What if that’s all I have?” I suggested, knowing full well I had less flashy clothes on hand for when I returned to my normal life with my head bowed in shame.
“The problems of the rich,” he cracked. “Then I guess I’ll just have to put up with you outshining me. This once.”
“Whatever, boy. That’s why I’m gonna take two hours getting dressed.”
Thirty minutes later, I came down to the lobby wearing something between classy and basic: a plum-colored dress I’d bought on sale last year from Macy’s with a pair of black sandals. The black Coach purse I carried on my arm was real. A gift several years ago from my husband, back when he was alive.
Even though he claimed to be off, Lowell stood at attention in his standard black uniform, just over the spot where mermaids usually swam by. When he saw me walking toward him, he intentionally looked me up and down for effect, then cast a thumbs-up as he held his watch up. Yeah, he was happy I didn’t really take two hours. I returned the favor with a thumb of my own.
“Artemis?” someone called out as he shuffled toward the glass globe I’d just exited.
“Hello, Julian,” I gushed before catching myself in front of Lowell’s watchful eyes.
“I was wondering how you were after last night,” he smoothly declared in his navy blue custom-tailored suit as he stepped away from the elevator. His powerful, commanding presence was on full display even when playing it leisurely.
“Doing very well, thank you. Told you I was a big girl,” I quipped.
“I know, I know,” he said with a quick smile. “Off somewhere?”
“Yes. Lunch,” I provided succinctly as Lowell, seeing me standing there, approached. “That’s my driver coming over to remind me,” I said in advance of Lowell getting within earshot. Neither one needed to particularly know my business; even if most of my business was imaginary.
“He keeps you on a tight schedule, huh?” Julian said, paying Lowell no mind. To Julian, he was probably just one of those background folk who kept the world working for him.
“Yeah. I have a teleconference this afternoon, so . . .” I threw out in a language he’d understand.
“Okay,” he said as he let a sigh escape his lips. “That reminds me. I have to check on my employees back home as well. But I’ll be calmer this time. See how you inspire me, Artemis? Call me later?”
“Certainly,” I said with a grin as I shook my head.
“Making friends?” Lowell asked as I watched Julian remove his cell phone from his pocket before he boarded the elevator. Even though I think he was sweet on me, that man was about his business furreal.
“Just inspiring folk to do better,” I clarified as I turned to leave with him.
Instead of a limo, Lowell had a black SUV from his car service waiting for me outside. As he opened the rear door for me, I just stood there tapping my foot.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his face crinkling.
“If I’m slumming today, I’m riding up front with you,” I replied with a wink.
“Okay . . . Artemis,” he said, dropping the formality. “Let’s get all slummy. Now get your ass in the Tahoe.”
I laughed, then scooted my ass into the front passenger seat as instructed.
Lowell made a U-turn, heading back down the Strip, en route to our mystery barbecue place. After passing Caesars Palace, he made a left turn on to Flamingo. With some old Teena Marie playing on his Sirius satellite radio, he slowed in front of the Westin Las Vegas and lowered his window.
“See that over there?” he indicated, clearing his throat as if a tour guide. “That right there is where Tupac was shot. Not where he died though. After being shot here, Suge Knight drove the car back to the Strip and took a left. They stopped at Harmon near where the Cosmopolitan Hotel is now before Pac was transported to the hospital.”
“One of the sadder Vegas moments,” I commented.
“Yup,” he uttered as he kept on driving. “You ever listen to his stuff?”
“Of course,” I said.
“Dude ran the gamut with his music, from social commentary to thug standards to club bangers. Just so prolific. What were you big on in H-town back in the day, Ms. Clay?”
“Gheto Boys,” I said with a chuckle. “Mr. Scarface, Willy Dee. Bushwick Bill.”
“Your mind was playin’ tricks on ya?” he teased.
“Still is, Lowell,” I responded. “I’m riding with a stranger to a place he claims has good barbecue.”
“Great, not ‘good,’” Lowell corrected me as he took the on-ramp for I-15 North. “You’ll see.”
After another fifteen minutes of driving, we got off the freeway and passed another airport that I didn’t even know Las Vegas had. I could see the mountains north of us getting closer in the distance. “If you’re planning on burying me out in the desert, just remember I still got my cell phone on me,” I taunted as I waved my iPhone in front of his face.
“And you ‘Liked’ my company on Facebook, so you know I ain’t even thinking about disposing of you,” he said, flashing those eyes at me just like I wanted. “And besides, we’re almost there.”
I didn’t know how we could almost be there, for this looked to be a quiet residential area on the sleepy side of town. Lowell slowed down at one of those homes, except this one had a large private road on the side of it that led to a business in the rear.
“Isn’t this a butcher shop?” I asked, incredulously as I read the business’s sign. Was Lowell planning on buying the meat then cooking it himself?
“Yep. In the front. But what I’m interested in is in the back. Of the place, that is,” he slyly replied as the Tahoe went through an open gate and we stopped beside several parked Harley-Davidson motorcycles. I’d gone from thinking we were at someone’s house, to a butcher shop, now thinking he’d brought me to a hidden biker bar.
Lowell put the Tah
oe in park, then calmly scanned me for my reaction. “You okay with this?” he asked.
“You know I’m from Texas, right? My dad rides horses, so not much different other than they might wear more leather. And besides, I’ve seen a few episodes of Sons of Anarchy.”
Lowell erupted in laughter. “Good. ’Cause some of those inside there are my boys. I ride sometimes and trust me, we ain’t running guns or killin’ anybody like on TV.”
Instead of a biker bar, this really was a barbecue joint like he’d promised. The place had a large outdoor patio area with picnic tables already filled with all kinds of people getting their grub on for lunch. A large raised bar connected to the meat market was where they took orders through a tiny window beneath a menu display. A pair of jeans would’ve been better for today, but I was gonna make the most of it.
True to my Texas roots, I went with the brisket and potato salad while Lowell had a pork rib plate with coleslaw and beans. I couldn’t help but contrast in my head Lowell’s letting me order for myself versus Julian’s more controlled dinner last night. Of course, Lowell ordered Coronas with lime for both of us. I wasn’t much of a beer drinker, but didn’t complain.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Lowell asked, catching me being introspective.
“How this barbecue ain’t bad,” I said as I squirted more tangy sauce from the bottle onto my meat.
“That’s all you’re gonna give me? ‘Ain’t bad’?” he pushed, hunching his shoulders while turning up his beer.
“C’mon now! I’d be a traitor to my home state if I said anything more. But I do like it. Thank you, Lowell,” I offered genuinely.
“You’re welcome, Artemis,” he stated with a smile as he wiped his napkin across his mouth. My eyes lingered on his lips as he licked them, the world briefly going mute for me. He was a successful professional who’d refused to allow all his edges to be smoothed. Yeah, Lowell definitely felt like somebody I’d kick it with back home. “Hope I didn’t pressure you too much into going to lunch with me.”
Carl Weber Presents Full Figured 6: Plus Size Divas Page 18
