What Love Tastes Like

by Zuri Day

  Nick rocked forward and picked up the paperweight. He knew Tiffany was down in the kitchen but he’d be damned if he sought her out. In the forty years he’d been on the planet, he’d never chased a woman. He didn’t intend to start now. Nick smirked as he imagined Tiffany’s focused intention as she was indirectly working for a man she despised. For the first time Nick had an employee who dared defy him, one he couldn’t control, though firing her had crossed his mind. But Nick would never play the game that way. Personal was personal and business was business. Tiffany was an excellent sous chef. Wang had mentioned during their last meeting how well they worked together in the kitchen. The sous chef was an important component in how the service to his dining room ran. Tiffany’s amuse-bouche idea had been copied by a competitor restaurant, one that would probably like nothing more than to have her in their kitchen. No, he wouldn’t jeopardize the positive buzz his restaurant was receiving over a personal issue.

  “Mr. Rollins?” Christina’s voice interrupted Nick’s thoughts.

  “What?”

  “Angelica is on line two, sir.”

  Nick’s pause was brief before he picked up the phone.

  “Angelica.”

  “Happy New Year, Nick!”

  “Oh, I guess we haven’t talked since then. Happy New Year.”

  “Except…yours doesn’t sound too happy. And that is absolutely no way for a man as magnificent as you are to sound. Tell me who did what so I can kick their ass!”

  Nick laughed. “I think I can take care of myself.” Nick couldn’t deny the fact that Angelica was good for stroking a man’s ego. Tiffany liked to show her love more than express it, but Angelica had always made Nick feel as if he was the most important thing in her world. He missed feeling that way. “So, besides the well wishes, to what do I owe this phone call?”

  “Not much, just thinking about you. I just arrived back in town from Chicago, where I’ve been for the past three weeks.”

  “Oh, yeah? You and dude pretty hot and heavy, huh?”

  “He’s a good man, this guy. I think I’ll try and hang on to him. Not let him get away the way another one-of-a-kind man slipped through my fingers. He’ll remain nameless,” she hurried on. “No need to get all caught up in the details.”

  Nick and Angelica kept talking and, for the first time since breaking up over a year prior, fell into the easy banter they used to regularly enjoy. Angelica was full of witty quips, and had the latest lowdown on all the LA insiders. She told him about a married-with-children, A-list, African American actor who was carrying on with his male agent, and floored him with the news of a forty-year-old singer carrying a twenty-three-year-old basketball star’s baby.

  “Uh-oh, another Usher and what’s her name?”

  “Tameka…but no. There was only ten years between those two; this woman could have birthed Jamal. Hey, Nick. I was on my way to Stanfords to grab a bite. Have you eaten?”

  “Not since a late breakfast.”

  “Cool. Meet you there in, say…half an hour?”

  “More like forty-five minutes, but yeah, I’ll see you there.”

  Angelica dressed to impress and literally danced out of her front door.

  37

  “You look good, Angelica.” Nick and Angelica sat in one of Stanfords’s cozy booths, sipping a vintage, over-priced champagne that she had insisted on buying.

  “Thank you.”

  “This new relationship obviously agrees with you.”

  “It does.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Careful, Nick,” Angelica teased. “You’re coming precariously close to prying into my affairs.”

  “Oh, is that what this is?”

  “I don’t mind.” Actually, Angelica thought it might work to her advantage to discuss Keith now. That way, later, it wouldn’t seem suspicious, as if she’d been hiding information all along. If she found out Tiffany had talked to Nick about her father, this too would be information she could use. “His name is Keith Bronson.”

  Nick rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Don’t know him.”

  “Didn’t think so. I don’t think he’s quite in your altitude, darlin’. You’re in a class all by yourself.”

  “You always were prone to flattery.”

  Angelica reached over and squeezed Nick’s hand. “Only when it’s deserved.”

  Nick looked at Angelica’s hand covering his, and smiled. “You’re too much, Angelica King.”

  Angelica winked. “I thought you knew.”

  “C’mon,” Joy pleaded. “We don’t have to stay long.”

  “How do you even know he’s there?”

  “Girl, I’ve got it on good authority that Jamal Sproles is holding court there. You know I had to have solid proof to get torn from Brenda Jackson and those Westmoreland men!”

  “The men in your books are harmless, Joy. They’re a fantasy. But actually hanging out trying to hook up with somebody…”

  “I’m not trying to hook up. I’m just trying to shake things up a little bit, add a little spice to my life.”

  “Does Randall know about this spice?”

  “No, his shaker is empty, and that’s the problem. I love Randall. We’re coming up on our ninth anniversary. There’s no harm in looking, as long as we don’t try out the merchandise, right? At least, where I’m concerned this is true. But where you’re concerned, you need to put it on, take it home, and sleep with it. One hour, that’s it. I’m already in Beverly Hills. You can meet me at Stanfords in fifteen minutes.”

  Twenty minutes later, Tiffany pulled into Stanfords’s parking lot. She’d only been there the one time before, when a summons from Nick had turned into a delightful dinner. She knew Joy had been there once as well, about a year ago. Joy had seen Derek Luke and a couple other faces that she recognized from television, and after finding out this was a popular spot for athletes as well, had bugged Tiffany about hanging out there more often. But when you worked in a restaurant, you didn’t really feel like hanging out in one. That logic had quieted Joy’s pleas—until now.

  “I don’t know how I let that girl talk me into things,” Tiffany scolded herself. Oh, well, it’s just an hour. The outing would probably be good for her. It would definitely help to lift her dismal mood after learning that Nick had been at the hotel all day. It was just as well he didn’t seek her out. Even though she’d finally agreed that her abrupt departure from Nick’s house was probably extreme, she was resolved to keep it a clean break. She loved Nick immensely, which was why she hurt so much. And which was also why she’d admitted the obvious: it was over—for good this time.

  She’d probably have to leave the restaurant. Even though it was for the best that she and Nick separate, and as much as she loved Chef Wang and the rest of the crew, it just might prove too painful to try and stay there. Who knew? Maybe she’d end up with Chef Riatoli in Rome.

  These were Tiffany’s thoughts as she entered Stanfords. Joy was the first person she saw. She was sitting at the bar in a bright yellow sundress, four-inch heels, and sunglasses. Inside. Tiffany smiled and admitted her girl looked fabulous.

  “Hey, chick.”

  “Damn, girl, you could have put on some lip gloss or something.”

  “Hello to you, too, Joy. And for the record, I just finished working nine hours. You’d better be glad I came here at all. But if all I’m going to get from you is insults, then…” Tiffany turned and took a step toward the door.

  “Chill out, girl. And stop taking out your haven’t-had-it-hit-in-a-month frustration on me.”

  Tiffany plopped on the bar stool next to Joy. “I can see right now I’m going to need a glass of wine to get through this hour.” After placing her order, Tiffany looked around. “So, where is he?”

  “In one of the private rooms,” Joy replied, flirting with the bartender while he fixed drinks for another couple.

  “Girl, you need to quit. So how do you plan to hook up with him, or meet him, or whatever, if he’s in a pri
vate room? And why do you want to meet him anyway? Isn’t he just a few years older than Deuce?”

  Joy turned to Tiffany and began to speak as if she were addressing a two-year-old. “First off, I’m not trying to get with Jamal. It’s those around him I want to get to know. I hear his agent is thirtysomething, and hot! I hear he throws some of the best parties, knows some of everybody and, well, I want a change of scenery. I want to rub shoulders with the beautiful people.”

  Tiffany looked at her friend with concern. “Joy, what aren’t you telling me? What’s going on with you and Randall?”

  “I told you, Randall is losing his sex drive.”

  “Uh-uh.”

  “Well, something like that. He’s always been able to get down, to satisfy. But since he’s gained weight, gotten a little older…I think it’s affected his libido.”

  “Old? Randall is thirty-three.”

  Joy shrugged. “Maybe it affects different men in different ways. But between you and me? Randall has become the two-minute man.”

  “So you’re thinking about sleeping with someone else?”

  “No…not yet. Look, I’m going to stay faithful to Randall. I just want to put a little spice in my life.” Joy scooted a bit closer to Tiffany and lowered her voice. “See, Daaimah Poole wrote this book about some ladies that chased ball players and got paid!”

  “Oh—my—God.”

  “No, wait, hear me out.”

  Tiffany leaned back against the bar stool, crossed her arms, and stared at Joy.

  “I said I’m not going to cheat on Randall. But what I might do is…have a brothah thinking I’m going to play on my hubby, and get a few trinkets—a diamond, some designer clothes, hell, just the feel of what it’s like to roll on that level. And,” Joy paused while she sipped her drink, “I might let him do a little licky licky.”

  “What you’re thinking about doing sounds dangerous. Men don’t like to be played. As for ‘that level,’” Tiffany said, making quotes with her fingers, “it’s overrated.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You were practically living in Malibu until you started trippin’ and messed up that good thing.” Joy put up a hand to stop Tiffany’s protest. “You were tripping, Tiffany, but we’ll get to that in a minute. Right now I’m talking about me.

  “I know I probably keep my head buried in too much fiction, but lately, some of the stories have got me thinking…about my life. I’ve basically been with the same man for over ten years, married for eight of those. I’ve got two kids, a decent house in Inglewood, but no life of my own! Besides wife and mother, how do I define me?”

  “And you’re thinking the term ‘gold-digger’ might work?”

  “In this other book, this woman lived a double life. By day, she was the perfect suburban housewife, but at night? She became ‘Candy,’ an exotic dancer that drove men wild!”

  “Joy, you’re starting to worry me. How much have you had to drink?”

  “I’m clean and sober, trust. These are virgin daiquiris I’m drinking. I’m not drunk, Tiffany, I’m bored!” Joy’s eyes widened as she looked across the room. “Don’t turn now,” she said out of a mouth that didn’t appear to be moving. “But somebody’s coming in this direction.”

  “Who, Jamal?”

  “No, your boy Nick. And he’s not alone.”

  38

  Tiffany froze. Maybe he won’t see me. Maybe he’ll just walk straight past and…

  “Hey, Nick!”

  Dammit, Joy!

  Nick groaned inwardly. What were the chances that Tiffany would visit Stanfords tonight—a million to one, maybe? She’d told him on more than one occasion that she didn’t like the pretentiousness of the place. Yet here she was with…

  “Joy, we met a couple months ago, remember?”

  “Of course.” Nick said, shaking Joy’s outstretched hand. But his eyes were on Tiffany, who’d not turned around. “Hello, Tiffany.”

  I don’t care who he’s with. Tiffany turned around. “Hi, Nick.” Her heart clenched. She did care.

  “How are you?” Nick’s eyes devoured Tiffany; he spoke as if they were the only two in the room. Angelica placed a hand on his arm. He shook it off and stepped to Tiffany. “How was your time off work?”

  Tiffany looked at Angelica as she answered. “I see how yours was…uneventful.”

  “Baby, this is nothing,” Nick whispered.

  Angelica flung back her locks as she moved closer to Tiffany, almost hitting Joy in the face. “Um, excuse me, Nick, but I don’t think I’ve met your friend.”

  Joy jumped off her bar stool. “Well, bitch, if you don’t back up, you’re getting ready to meet the fist of his friend’s friend!”

  “Joy, don’t go there.” Tiffany slid off her bar stool and stepped in front of Joy.

  “Oh my goodness, how utterly ghetto,” Angelica exclaimed.

  “Yeah, I got your ghetto, and if you say one more word to me it’s about to go down!”

  The once-flirty bartender hurried over, his expression serious. “This is a respectable establishment,” he said, sounding like Carson Kressley on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. “You’ll have to keep your voices down.”

  Angelica turned to Nick. “Honey, I think we should call the police.”

  Nick’s eyes never left Tiffany’s. “Angelica, you need to leave.”

  “Me? Baby, what did I do?”

  “You’re trying to act like this is more than the meeting for drinks that it is, with your ‘honey’ and ‘baby’ nonsense. Just leave, Angelica.”

  Angelica looked from Nick to Tiffany and back. So all’s not perky in paradise, huh? Very interesting. She upped the ante on her innocent act. “Nick, I’m sorry. I didn’t know your relationship was in such shambles. I never would have asked you to come out and celebrate with me if I knew your new woman was insecure.”

  Tiffany had heard enough. “Joy, I’m leaving.” She brushed past Nick and headed for the exit.

  Angelica prepared to follow, but Joy blocked her path. “I don’t think so.”

  The drama on the inside of Stanfords didn’t match the one on the outside. Nick was right on Tiffany’s heels.

  “Baby, wait…”

  “Don’t baby me!” Tiffany picked up her pace. So did Nick.

  “Tiffany, you’re blowing this way out of proportion. If anybody should be pissed off, it’s me!”

  Tiffany spun around. “What?”

  “You heard me. From the time I canceled our vacation, you’ve acted like the only person who had a say in our relationship was you! Did you try and understand my point of view? Did we discuss it rationally? No. You just packed your bags and closed the door. Forget the fact that you broke my heart in the process. Now, just because I’m here with Angelica you get pissed and storm out? I’ve known her for almost fifteen years so yes, we still talk. But I told you that wasn’t nothing going on beyond that. You’re acting like someone did you wrong when I’m the one who should be angry.”

  Had Nick screamed this at her, Tiffany could have stomped off to her car, slammed the door, and peeled off. But he’d delivered this tirade quietly, pointedly, his deep brown eyes boring into hers. How could she get him to understand that it had taken her a lifetime to erect the wall that was around her heart, to shield herself from being hurt and disappointed as she’d been in the past? His heart was broken? Well, join the club. Mine was broken, many times, by an expert. But how did she tell him? How could you convey what it was like to have your heart ripped out without even realizing that could happen, and to have it be your father who did it?

  “Tiffany Alana, your father’s on the phone!”

  Unlike the sulkiness that usually accompanied her preteenaged movements, Tiffany bounded to the phone. “Hi, Dad!”

  “Hey, how’s my baby girl?”

  “Good! Are you still taking me to Disneyland for my birthday tomorrow?”

  “You bet. I’m going to wrap up my business and fly out tonight. Did you invite some of your frie
nds along, as I suggested?”

  “Uh, just my best friend, Joy.”

  “You sure, honey? The limo can hold six to eight girls comfortably.”

  Tiffany whooped. “You’re renting us a limo, Dad?”

  “Oops, that slipped out.”

  “Mom, Dad is taking us to Disneyland in a limo!”

  “That’s nice, honey.” It was said pleasantly enough, but Tiffany hadn’t missed Janice rolling her eyes.

  As soon as Tiffany ended the call with her father, she rang Joy and spent the next two hours discussing what they’d wear and what cassettes they’d bring to listen to on the ride to Anaheim. Before they ended the call, Joy’s mother asked to speak to Janice, and they coordinated dropping Joy off the next morning.

  Tiffany was so excited she could barely sleep. She walked to the mirror and looked at herself for the umpteenth time. Tomorrow, she would be thirteen! Would she look any different, feel any different? Would she finally get her period? Joy had gotten hers six months ago and was constantly reminding Tiffany that she wasn’t a woman yet. She leaned in to the mirror and fingered a small pimple on her chin. She didn’t dare mess with it, otherwise it would grow to the size of a horn and totally ruin her fly look for tomorrow. Running a hand over her freshly done braids, adorned with pink, blue, and yellow beads to match her outfit, Tiffany began dancing to Naughty By Nature’s latest hit. She continued while Whitney talked about being somebody’s baby, and a brush became her microphone as she sang about what love would do with Janet.