by Zuri Day
“Aw, I wasn’t worried,” Randall drawled as he kissed Joy again and then headed out of the room. “Between my skills in the bedroom and the kitchen…you ain’t going nowhere!”
“I sure ain’t!” Joy agreed.
“Wow, ten years together and y’all acting like newlyweds.”
“Yeah, especially since I brought home those edible panties—”
“Damn!” Randall exclaimed from the kitchen. “You tell that girl everything!”
We’ll talk later, Joy mouthed. “Tell Nick I said hello,” she said in a regular conversational tone.
“I will. Be sure and call me later.”
Joy hugged Tiffany. “Be sure you stop screwing long enough to pick up the phone.”
52
A week later, Joy entered Tiffany’s condo, ready to help with the big move. “I can’t believe it,” she said, shortly after Tiffany had opened the door for her to enter. “Miss Independent is going to actually move in with a man.”
“I know, me either,” Tiffany replied.
“But that big dick wore you down, huh?”
Tiffany playfully pushed Joy. “Shut up! This move makes sense economically, since I’m in Malibu most nights anyway. Moving in with Nick and renting this place out is practical. The rent price I’ve set will be enough to cover the mortgage and see a little profit as well. So that’s why I’m moving, Miss Thing, just so you know!”
“Yep,” Joy replied, unconvinced. “Whenever you get through with that economical advantage bullshit, we can talk truth—he’s got you whipped.”
Tiffany picked Tuffy up and placed him in a box headed for Malibu.
“I know you are not going to take that scruffy-ass bear into that beachside paradise.”
“Why not?”
“Tiffany, you’re getting ready to move in with a multimillionaire. You are a college graduate and the sous chef at a five-star restaurant. I know it was a gift from your father and assuages a part of you that still longs for what you never had. But don’t you think it’s time to cut the Tuffy cord?”
“Maybe,” Tiffany replied as she placed the bear in the box and reached for the tape. “But Tuffy is moving with me to Malibu. Speaking of teddy bears,” Tiffany continued after a pause, “I still can’t get over Randall’s transformation. How much weight has he lost?”
Joy knew Tiffany had purposely steered the conversation away from her father, but she went along. “Only about ten pounds, I think. But it’s the crunches and losing that gut, that’s what makes people think he’s lost more.”
“I was so against your going to work for Myron, was so sure you were getting ready to have an affair. But now I see what you were doing, just making Randall pay attention.”
“You give me too much credit, sistah, because an affair was definitely on my mind. Randall shocked you and me both with this transformation. But at the end of the day, I’m happy things turned out the way they did. I love my husband, my kids, my family. And from seeing up close and personal how many women these ball players are juggling, and the backstabbing shenanigans of the wannabes trying to come up, I now know that the grass is definitely not greener on the other side of the fence. I could write a book about the month I spent in that camp.”
Tiffany stopped in mid-pack. “You should do it, Joy!”
“Do what?”
“Write a book! You love to read, you were excellent in English class back in the day, always made As. God knows your imagination is always working overtime. You should do it. You should write a behind-the-scenes book about women chasing ball players!”
“I don’t know. Daaimah’s already covered that territory with A Rich Man’s Baby.”
“Da-who?”
“Daa-i-mah Poole. She wrote a book about these stupid hoes trying to date ballers, get pregnant and get paid. I told you about her.”
“Was it good?”
“I loved it!”
“Well, then. That’s all the more reason why you should write one from your perspective. You’re a voracious reader, and if you loved her story line, I’m sure that other zealous readers will love reading the story from your point of view.”
Joy pulled a box from the closet. “What about these clothes?”
“Put those to the side, that’s for Goodwill.”
Joy immediately opened the box and began going through it. “First, let me make sure I don’t want to be your charity case.”
“Girl! Make sure you put what you don’t want back in the box, tape it back up, and label it. I don’t want to give the wrong stuff away! So…are you going to take on this project I’ve suggested?”
“Writing a book?”
“No, cooking a soufflé. Of course, writing the book!”
“I might.”
“You should. It would give you something to do, a way to focus your mind so you don’t dream up another wild scheme and get into trouble.”
Tiffany’s phone rang. “Speaking of trouble,” she said to Joy before answering the phone. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hey, Tiffany. How are you?”
“Fine.”
“Good to hear it. Listen, I’m calling because I’m in town and wondered if you were free for lunch or dinner tomorrow.”
“I work tomorrow.” Tiffany started to invite him to Taste, but she didn’t want to be disappointed by another no-show.
Fortunately or unfortunately, her dad had the same idea. “I could come by your restaurant…if that’s okay. Make up for the other time when I had to run out on you.”
“Sure, if you’d like.”
“What time is your break? Maybe you could sit with me while I try out the food your mother raved about.”
“Mama told you about my food?”
“Raved, I said. What time would you like me to stop by, honey?”
Tiffany and her father made plans to meet the next evening. When she hung up the phone, her mood was subdued.
“He’ll love your cooking,” Joy said.
“It doesn’t matter,” Tiffany lied, shrugging away the nervous flutters that filled her stomach. She automatically reached for Tuffy, forgetting that she’d already taped up the box that instead of containing a security blanket held a security bear. Tiffany sighed as she reached for the last items on her bed, placed them in an empty box, and sealed it. If only it were this easy to seal up the need for Daddy’s approval, she thought. Granted, he’d had the chance to try a couple of her dishes, before he’d abruptly left the restaurant, and said they were good. Out of sight, were his exact words. But had he accepted her career choice? What Keith Bronson thought about her chosen profession mattered. Even though Tiffany was reluctant to admit it, her father’s approval meant everything.
53
“I know you didn’t cook this,” Keith murmured as he placed another mouthful of succulent Kobe beef into his mouth.
“I cannot tell a lie,” Angelica admitted. “A chef prepared this dinner, and then left before you arrived.”
“We could have gone out to eat.”
“I know, but I wanted us to share an intimate evening…just the two of us.”
Angelica smiled as Keith continued to enjoy the scrumptious meal she’d had catered. So far, the night was working out just the way she’d planned. If things continued to move as smoothly, the chef would more than earn the hefty price tag that came with three hours of personal service—his last hour cut short because Angelica wanted to serve the meal herself. She watched as Keith speared the last asparagus on his plate, placed it into his mouth, and chewed with his eyes closed. “More?” she asked, already reaching for the tongs.
“No,” Keith replied, patting his stomach. “I’m trying to watch my weight. But that was delicious.”
“I hope you saved room for dessert,” Angelica purred. She rose from her seat, walked over to where Keith sat, and kissed his cheek. “Your sweet treat will be served in the bedroom. Follow me.”
An hour later, Keith and Angelica emerged from the shower, where they’d washed away
the remaining traces of edible chocolate and the proof of their lovemaking. Angelica dried off and donned a flowing silk kimono. Keith put on the bottoms of Angelica’s gift to him—a pair of black silk pajamas.
“Mind if I smoke?” he asked when Angelica reentered the bedroom. He rolled a large Cuban cigar between his short, stout fingers before snipping off the end with a pair of gold scissors.
“Let’s go out to the patio,” Angelica responded. She hid her chagrin at the habit that so annoyed her. Once the deal was done and Nick’s plans had been ruined, Angelica would demand that Keith quit smoking. But she decided to not make waves…for now.
“Will you be moving to Los Angeles?” she asked, making sure she sat on the other side of the cigar smoke’s circuitous journey into the night air.
“Why would I do that?”
Angelica shrugged. “Your partners are here. I’m here…”
Keith took another thoughtful puff from his cigar. “I like Chicago.”
“This nightclub chain is going to be the most lucrative business deal of your life. Good food, great live music, and high-tech games—a perfect marriage for the innovative Chinese culture. Baby, do you have any idea how much money this is going to bring? Your share alone should be ten, twenty million dollars a year, easy. I think you’d love Pacific Palisades, or even Palm Springs. You could get a mansion there for three, four million dollars.”
Keith’s eyes narrowed as he pondered Angelica’s words. Granted she was a gorgeous woman, and intelligent to boot. But Keith was old school. The last place he wanted the woman in his life to be was all up in his business. “You know, babe…you’d be better served to use that gorgeous mind of yours to keep yourself groomed, in shape, and up on the latest fashion. You’re by my side to make me look good, not to stick your nose in my finances or try and tell me where to live.”
“Of course, Keith.” Angelica’s submissive response masked her anger. Don’t patronize me, you son of a bitch. I’m the reason Stan shared information on Bastion and Nick, and why you’re poised to seal the biggest deal of your life. Angelica decided to send Keith a subtle reminder in a passive/aggressive manner. “Stan called earlier.”
Keith’s brow furrowed, as Angelica had hoped. “What’s he calling you about?”
Angelica stood and walked over to a view that sparkled with lights from a thousand homes and businesses. “Probably just wants my opinion about something. He often uses me as a sounding board regarding business ventures.”
“Are y’all still fucking?” Keith asked brusquely.
“Why, Mr. Bronson. Do I detect a note of jealousy?”
“What you detect, Ms. King, is the sound of a man who won’t be messed with. You’re just a little too interested in matters that don’t concern you. When it comes to my personal and business relationships, it’s like oil and water…they don’t mix.”
Angelica could feel Keith’s hard stare, but didn’t turn to face him. Instead, she slowly sipped her snifter of Grand Marnier, tossed her thick, coiffed sister-locks, and again purposely shifted the mood. She felt she’d made her point for now, that she wasn’t one to be messed with either. “Stan is not only someone I dated, but a very good friend. Even so, Keith, you must know that he doesn’t hold a candle to you. You are more educated, intelligent, and street savvy. Not to mention the best lover I’ve ever had.”
Angelica cleared her throat, afraid the lie she just spoke might get lodged there and cause her to choke. No one had better lovemaking skills than Dominique Rollins. But Angelica wisely decided this was a fact best kept to herself. “I only mentioned it because hearing his message reminded me of something else I heard through the LA business grapevine. Nick Rollins and his partners rushed to Las Vegas last week for a closed-door meeting with some…men from China. I know you don’t want me in your business affairs, Keith, and I’m not trying to elbow my way in. I’m really not.”
Angelica rose from her chaise and eased herself down onto Keith’s prone body. She kissed his chest, nose, and lips. “I just want to see you get what you deserve,” she whispered, even as she reached beyond the elastic on his pj bottoms. “I want to see you get everything.”
54
Tiffany wiped away a bead of sweat from her brow as she gently shook the small stainless steel skillet. She sautéed scallops in garlic-infused butter even as she stirred the spinach wilting in another pan. Once finished, she plated the scallops atop the greens and drizzled the remaining butter over the dish. “Order up!” she said, pleased with the presentation. She immediately called out for two live lobsters before searing a prime cut of beef.
“Do you want me to drop them, Chef?” Roger asked as he brought the snarly crustaceans over to the stove. Tiffany nodded. A hiss soon followed as he submerged the lobsters in a pot of boiling water. He nudged Tiffany playfully, happy to act as sous chef as Tiffany was once again allowed to cook for her dad. “So, do you think your old man’s gonna stick around this time?”
Tiffany cut a mean look in Roger’s direction. He’d hit a nerve, especially since she’d just been thinking about the last time she took dishes out to an empty table. Her father had apologized, and offered an explanation for his hasty departure. He didn’t have to. She knew—business.
“Whoa, sorry!” Roger said. “Didn’t mean to push a sore spot with you, Chef.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Tiffany replied. “It’s hard to avoid sore spots where my dad is concerned.”
Roger walked close to her and dropped his voice. “Look at it this way, Tiff. At least you still have a dad to get angry at. Me and my pops were at each other’s throats all the time, up until he died two years ago. I’d give anything just to hear him yell at me just one more time.” He said nothing more, just walked over to the food processor, dropped in some ingredients, and turned it on.
Tiffany pondered Roger’s words as she cooked, having never given thought to her father being permanently removed from her life, dying. How would I feel with Daddy gone for good? She removed the steak from the fire and set it on a board to rest, then reached long tongs into the large pot and pulled out the cooked lobsters. I know we have our differences and I know he hasn’t been the best father, but I still love him. She placed the lobsters on a cutting board, chopped off the claws, and split open the tails. After plating the herbed spinach pasta she’d made from scratch, she took seasoned melted butter and placed it in a ceramic creamer to be used tableside. She began slicing the steak for plating, noting that the meat was cooked to perfection. Even though the restaurant was near capacity and there were orders to fill, Tiffany reached for the plates holding the food she’d prepared. Roger’s words had hit their mark. Tiffany decided that she, and nobody else, would be the one to serve her father.
Keith admired the restaurant’s décor as he sipped his Chardonnay. The perky waitress had been right—it was the perfect complement to the succulent scallops he’d enjoyed before the palate-cleansing celery soup. It was hard for Keith to believe that his daughter had actually prepared these dishes. Over the years, he’d eaten in his share of five-star restaurants, and couldn’t remember any dish that had surpassed what he’d experienced so far at Taste. The service, the understated elegance of his surroundings…Keith had to admit that he was impressed. And he didn’t impress easily.
As he watched the people around him obviously enjoying their meals, Keith sat back and searched for memories of Tiffany, the little girl turned woman whom he hardly knew. Smiling, he remembered her as a baby. She was a small newborn, yet feisty and full of life. Her eyes used to light up when she looked at him, and when she grabbed his forefinger, she held on for dear life. The toddler years were a blur. He’d traveled so much during that time—as a salesman, then a project manager, and later as sales director for a commodities firm. He’d been so focused during those early years, determined to shut up the naysayers: racist jerks, jealous coworkers, and the voice of a father who said he’d never amount to anything. He did remember one birthday, though, when Tiffany w
as five years old. Her birthday landed on a Saturday that year, and Keith was home. Janice had a party and invited the neighborhood children. Keith went to the mall himself, a rare occurrence, and picked out a big, brown teddy bear for his little girl. When Tiffany unwrapped it, Keith remembered her eyes widening in amazement. “I wuv it!” she’d shouted. The stuffed animal was almost as big as Tiffany, but she refused to part with it, even for a minute. She dragged it around as she played the games. Keith chuckled aloud as he remembered that after Janice served the cake, the bear had as much cake frosting on his face as Tiffany did.
Keith rubbed his brow as another scene came to mind. This one happened much later, when Tiffany was twenty-three years old. She’d just gotten her master’s degree from UCLA, and since Keith didn’t see a husband or children anywhere in her future, he’d laid aside his chauvinistic views and made big plans for his only child to follow his footsteps into the business world. He’d taken her out to a fancy restaurant, much like the one he sat in now, and along with introducing her to his latest wife, laid out his plans for her future.
“I’m so proud of you, Tiffany.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
“I am, too,” Keith’s wife had echoed.
Tiffany had suppressed the desire to roll her eyes and simply smiled.
After a bit of small talk, Keith had made an announcement. “I have a surprise for you, baby girl!”
Tiffany’s smile widened—her graduation present! For high school, her dad had bought her a shiny red Nissan. The down payment on her condo had been her undergrad gift. Tiffany couldn’t imagine what she would get this time.
Keith reached into his inner breast pocket and pulled out an envelope. Tiffany’s heartbeat quickened as he held it out to her. “What’s this?” she asked.
“Only one way to find out.” Keith winked at his wife and placed his arm around her. He beamed at Tiffany, who was staring at the envelope. “Well…open it up!”
