by Zuri Day
Tiffany stood and whipped around. “What kind of resolution can there be to this mess? My dad is screwing a woman who can’t stand me and who just happens to be your ex, while also vying for the same ‘once in a lifetime’ deal that my man wants. Neither of you are going to back out, Angelica is going to continue being a bitch, and me? Don’t ask me to choose, Nick. Ours isn’t the best relationship, but he’s still my father. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”
“You won’t have to wait long,” Nick said, as he too stood. “And you won’t have to take sides.”
“How do you figure that?”
“I’ve thought this entire situation through, and I’ve stacked up the deal against what you mean to me. Baby, the scales tip overwhelmingly in your favor. If you want me to, Tiffany, I’ll walk away from this deal. Right now, today. I mean it.”
59
Tiffany sighed as she placed the last bite in her mouth and swallowed. Since the incident involving her dad and Nick the week before, and since canceling the barbeque with the Parsons family, she hadn’t had much of an appetite. Leave it to Grand to bring it back. As had happened during her childhood, Grand’s beef stew made her feel better. It was chock full of succulent beef, loads of vegetables, and round pasta. But mostly, the dish was filled with her grandmother’s love.
“That was delicious, Grand,” Tiffany said. “I need to come over here and watch you make it because my stew doesn’t come out like this.”
Grand chuckled even as she warmed at the praise. “Come over anytime, baby. But there’s some kinds of cooking that has to be lived through, rather than taught. Tastes that come from repeating the process, and refining it, and pouring years’ worth of ‘know that you know’ into the pot. You can already cook rings around me in some things. But beef stew, and these feel-good dishes? They come from years of stirring them together, after you and the recipe have had a chance to dance together for a while, get to know each other. And from having someone around you where you want to pour not only food, but love into the bowls.”
The two ladies cleared the table and walked into the kitchen. Tiffany ran the dish water and began cleaning the plates. Grand hummed while she put on a pot of coffee and then began storing the remainder of their meal. “Well, do you want to talk about it while we’re washing dishes, or afterward, when we have dessert?”
“What makes you think I have something to talk about?”
Grand said nothing, just started humming again.
Several moments passed before Tiffany spoke. “It’s about Nick, the man I’m dating.”
“Uh-huh.”
“No, actually it’s about Daddy.”
Grand stopped and looked at Tiffany. “Well, which one is it about, your fella or your father?”
“Actually, Grand, it’s about them both.”
“I tell you what,” Grand said. “These dishes can wait. Cut us a slice of that pound cake and take it in the living room. I’ll get the coffee.” When Tiffany hesitated, Grand continued, “Conversations like these are always easier with a little sugar around.” She winked and nudged Tiffany toward the cake pan.
Soon afterward, Tiffany was sitting in one of Grand’s well-worn recliners, eating cake and telling her story. She told Grand everything—about how she and Nick met (well, she did leave out some parts of that story), deciding not to date him when she got hired at Le Sol, and then changing her mind and dating him anyway. She talked about Angelica and the run-ins they’d had. And finally, she told Grand about Nick and her father vying for the same lucrative venture in China, and how she found out about it.
“What’s your daddy got to say for himself?” Grand asked, when Tiffany finished.
“I don’t know.” Tiffany shrugged. “We haven’t talked.”
“He didn’t call after running into you that night?”
“He called once and left a message asking if I was okay.”
“And why haven’t you called him back?”
“Because…a part of me isn’t sure I want to hear what he has to say.”
“And he hasn’t called again.”
Tiffany shook her head.
Grand took a sip of coffee. “And what about your fella? What is he saying?”
Tiffany told her about Nick’s offer to bow out of the deal if that was what she wanted.
“Do you think he meant it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had anybody put me ahead of their work, but deep down, I really do think he meant what he said. Oh, Grand, this love stuff is so complicated. I don’t know what to do!”
“If that young man meant what he said, that he’d turn down millions to make you happy, then I’ll tell you my opinion.”
Tiffany welcomed another opinion. Lord knew she’d talked Joy’s ears off and still didn’t know how to feel. “Please, Grand, what do you think?”
“I think you done found the man who can help you perfect your beef stew!”
Tiffany had been gone for more than an hour before Grand made the call. She’d just gotten off the phone with Janice, who hadn’t been home when Grand had left a message earlier. Janice had been curious, even hesitant, about giving Grand Keith’s number, pointing out that they hadn’t spoken in two or three years. But Grand reminded Janice that she was mama in this conversation, and assured her that she had a very good reason for wanting to speak to Keith Bronson.
“What do you want to talk to him about?” Janice had asked her.
“That’s between me and him” had been Grand’s reply.
Grand dialed the number carefully. She waited, and frowned when the call went to voicemail. Figuring this was not something to be left “after the beep,” she hung up and immediately dialed the number again.
This time, Keith answered. “Hello?”
“Keith, this is Gladys.”
A beat of silence and then, “My mother-in-law?”
Gladys chuckled. “You know more than one Gladys?”
“Uh, no,” Keith sputtered. “But I’m just rather surprised to be hearing from you, that’s all.”
“I know it’s been a while. Janice gave me this new number.”
They shared a few pleasantries, inquired after each other’s health. “So, what can I do for you, Mama Goodness?” Keith asked, using the endearment he used to call her.
“It ain’t about what you can do for me,” Gladys replied. “It’s about what you can do for your daughter. You need to call her. And you need to have a conversation that is long overdue.”
“Tiffany? I don’t mean to be rude, Gladys,” Keith countered, suddenly feeling his ex in-law was not so dear, “but I don’t see where my relationship with my daughter is any of your business.”
“She ain’t been much of your business, either.”
“Wait a minute. You listen here—”
“No, you listen. I’m not judging you. I’m just calling it like I see it. That child needs you, and you ain’t always been there. But, son, if I have anything to say about it…that’s all about to change.”
60
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
Bastion shook his head, got up, and walked to the elaborate bar in his Santa Monica home. “Care for a drink?” When Nick shook his head, Bastion placed two ice cubes in a tumbler and poured himself a generous amount of bourbon. “Nick, I know you love Tiffany, but backing out of the deal if she feels uncomfortable…. Man, I’ve known you for almost twenty years, have been your partner for a decade. This just isn’t like you.”
“I know. But there’s more to life than business, Bastion.”
Bastion rejoined Nick in the sitting area. “Look, I know you’re getting older, you want to marry, have a family. You’ve still got time to do all that, Nick, plenty of time! Don’t throw away the deal of a lifetime because some woman can’t understand how important it is! Tiffany’s great, but if she would ask you to choose between her and your livelihood, is she really the woman you want to spend the rest of your life
with?”
“Tiffany hasn’t asked me to do anything. It is my decision to show her that she means more to me than money.”
“We’re not just talking money, Nick,” Bastion said, in a raised voice. “We’re talking over a hundred million dollars in the next few years!”
“You don’t have to remind me, Bastion. I know how much the deal is worth! Okay?”
“Okay, buddy, calm down.”
“You calm down!”
Bastion’s blue eyes pierced Nick’s, but he remained silent. Nick stared right back before dropping his gaze. He could count on one hand the times he and Bastion had argued. Ninety-nine percent of the time they were on the same page. Nick hoped they could get back there on this issue, but even if they didn’t, Nick’s mind was made up.
Nick took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for hollering at you, B. This situation is crazy, and it’s got me on edge. And believe me, it’s not just Tiffany that has me rethinking my alignment with this group. It’s Stan.”
“I agree. It wasn’t right for him to share confidences with Angelica. We’re prepared to mete out a consequence for that breach. But we need him with us. He’s crunching the numbers, Nick. And we’re too close to nailing this thing to change personnel. You know how long it took for our Chinese partners to develop their confidence in us. They like to take things slow, get to know all the players. If we changed up now it just might…Stan’s an asshole. Maybe we’ll buy him out after the deal is over, but right now…”
“I know, it’s tricky.”
“Which is why you cannot bow out of this deal. Tiffany’s a smart girl. She’ll support you, Nick, I know it.”
After discussing a few matters regarding other businesses, Nick left Bastion’s house. He appreciated Bastion’s belief in Tiffany, that she’d never make him choose between his work and her love. Nick believed in her, too. But he also knew her vulnerabilities in this area, because of her father. Putting his business first could cost him Tiffany. He didn’t want to take that chance.
61
Keith pulled his carry-on into the foyer and closed the door. He stopped and looked around. He’d been spending so much time in Los Angeles that his Chicago home seemed almost foreign to him. He stopped at the hallway table, where the housekeeper had neatly stacked the mail in a copper holder. There was nothing urgent in the contents, he knew, but he thumbed through the pile anyway. As he figured, it was mostly junk mail: sale papers, donation requests, and offers for another dozen credit cards.
After showering off the tiredness from a grueling week and a three-plus-hour flight, Keith headed to the kitchen. The housekeeper had stocked the refrigerator in anticipation of his arrival. He eyed a container of salad and another marked “tuna.” He pulled these from the refrigerator, placed the tuna steak in the microwave, and cut a large chunk from a loaf of French bread on the counter. As he placed the salad on a plate, he remembered another meal—one prepared and served by his daughter.
Keith took the plate and walked to his large dining room table that seated ten people. He’d lived in this house for almost ten years and had never used all the chairs at one time. Aside from the various wives and girlfriends who’d inhabited his life, and his business associates, Keith’s life after Janice had been rather lonely. He hadn’t really thought about these things before. But his conversation with Gladys had caused him to think about a lot of things, especially the time he’d missed with Tiffany, and how little he knew about the woman who—because of her mother’s anger and hurt following their divorce—did not bear his last name.
“Nobody ever got a visit from a dollar bill on their deathbed,” Gladys had said near the end of their conversation. “When people are preparing to meet their Maker, it’s family they think about and who they want to have around.”
He no longer had an appetite, so Keith left his untouched plate at the table and began walking aimlessly through his three-bathroom, four-bedroom, twenty-five-hundred-square-foot condo. Tiffany had never been there; in fact, Tiffany had never visited him in Chicago. It was the first time he’d pondered this truth, and it didn’t feel good. He walked through the living room that had been decorated by a renowned designer, Candice Olson. She was a star on the HGTV Network, and in heavy demand. He’d had to pull some strings to get her, and the living room design alone cost more than fifty thousand dollars. Every piece was tailored, matched, and had its place in the subdued elegance of gray and black. He took in the artwork on the wall, all originals, as he left the living room and walked up the spiral staircase to the great room. There, the subtlety of the living room was left behind for a bolder mood. Bold colors enhanced the theme of black and gray that had been carried from the living room, and the original Salvador Dalí that Keith had personally escorted from Spain anchored the room. I have it all, he thought as he continued the spontaneous tour through his Lake Shore Drive abode, including the master suite, home office, and library in a separate wing. So why am I feeling empty?
Keith eventually returned to the dining room, where he threw away the tuna but ate some of the French bread and salad. He then opened a bottle of Pinot Noir, and took that and a wineglass back to his bedroom. He drank and thought into the night, almost until dawn. He analyzed his whole life—from the mean, lean streets of Detroit to conference-room meetings with some of the most powerful men in America. He thought about his ex-wives, and about Angelica. He tried to see his life five years from now, and to imagine how he wanted it to look. In five years, I’ll be sixty years old. It’s time to think about what I’ll do for the last third of my life, and who will be here with me. Which was why, Keith concluded, the Chinese venture was so important. It would set him up for life.
Keith slept until noon, a rarity. When he awoke, he called his assistant and told her to cancel the meetings for which he’d flown back to Chicago, and book him on the next flight out to LA. He’d left some unfinished business back on the West Coast, and he refused to let another day go by without taking care of it.
62
When Nick returned to his office from the restaurant, where he’d spoken to Chef Wang, someone else was waiting for him.
Keith stood as soon as Nick entered the executive suites lobby.
“I told him he needed to make an appointment,” Kim said, before Nick spoke.
“It’s okay, Kim,” Nick replied. He walked over to where Keith stood with a hand outstretched. “Keith.”
“Nick, I need to speak with you. I asked for Tiffany downstairs and they said she was ill. Is she okay?”
“A little exhausted, stressed, but she’ll be fine.”
Keith didn’t miss the unspoken message, that he was part of the reason for Tiffany’s anxiety. “I know I don’t have an appointment, but what I have to say can’t wait.”
Nick eyed Keith for a moment, and then shook his hand. “Come into my office. Kim, hold my calls.”
The two men were silent until they’d entered Nick’s spacious office and he’d closed the door. Nick bypassed his desk and walked over to the sitting area with a magnificent view of the ocean. He gestured for Keith to sit in one wing chair, while he sat in the one facing him.
“Nice view,” Keith began.
“It is, but I don’t think that’s why you came to my office. I’m not sure Tiffany is why you’re here, either.”
“Let’s get this straight off the bat. I love my daughter.”
“Does she know?”
Two powerful, determined Black men eyed each other for a long moment.
Keith wrestled with his emotions. On one hand he despised the man in front of him, the one aligned with the competition that could take his dream. On the other, there was a begrudging admiration for the success Nick Rollins had built through hard work, tenacity, and intelligence. And then there was the fact that he was involved with Keith’s daughter, and from what he could see, loved her. He knew he’d have to tread lightly to keep this meeting civil.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” Keith began, just to
show he wasn’t a pushover. “But I’ll admit that I haven’t always been the best father where Tiffany is concerned. I had my reasons, and I don’t expect you to understand. But I’m not here to rehash the past. I’m here with a clear view toward my future.” Keith took a deep breath and uttered the sentence he knew could change his life. “My company is backing out of the negotiations. I don’t know about the other players, but as far as I’m concerned…the China deal is yours.”
Nick looked at Keith, his chin resting on steepled fingers. He wasn’t sure what to say. Is this an under-handed ploy to get us to drop our defenses, slow down the negotiation process? Or is this really about Tiffany? There was only one way to find out. “Because of my relationship with your daughter?”
Keith stared out the floor-to-ceiling window, then rose and walked over to it. He watched as the waves lazily kissed the shore and in that moment realized that while he should have been tense, uptight, on edge—he felt just like the scene before him, calm. What he was about to do may have looked crazy, but it felt right.
“I was twenty-six when Janice got pregnant,” he began, with his back to Nick. “I wasn’t ready. See, I wanted to have a nice nest egg in the bank, a house that was paid for or close to, and be well established in my career before bringing kids into the equation. Janice disagreed…one of the many things Tiffany’s mother and I didn’t see eye to eye on. Janice said she hadn’t meant to get pregnant, but I didn’t believe her. I thought she did it to tie me down. Back then, I was traveling four to five days a week, home mostly on weekends. That didn’t stop just because I had a child.
“My father wasn’t able to provide for me, so I was determined that Tiffany would want for nothing. And no,” Keith said, finally turning to face Nick, “it wasn’t just for her. It was for me. To prove that I had what it took to be the best at what I did. I know what it’s like on the other side of the tracks, and I never want to go back there. I wanted to have it all, at all costs. And I’ve come close to fulfilling my dreams. But it seems I may have lost something in the process.
