The One That I Want

by Zuri Day

  “Yes, sir?” the efficient woman said when she picked up her extension.

  “Do you have the guest list for the Christmas party?”

  “I just e-mailed it to you. I broke it down into executives, sales consultants, and buyers.”

  “You’re awesome,” he replied. “Do me a favor, send some kind of Christmas flowers to Lola and a bauble from Tiffany’s.”

  “Okay,” she said. “You just received a festive-looking package.”

  “Bring it in,” he said, then hung up the phone. Jon returned to his sales reports with a smile on his face. Lydia walked in and placed the big red box on his desk.

  “Who is this from?” he asked.

  “There wasn’t a card, sir.”

  Jon shrugged. “Lyd,” he said, “why don’t you take off early.”

  “Thanks, and I sent those things to Miss Lola. Hopefully, you will get home in time to see her open them?”

  Jon looked down at his watch. Was it really seven-thirty? He could’ve sworn it was a little after five. “I had no idea it was this late,” he said as he tucked his reports in his iPad case. “Lola is going to kill me.” He grabbed his iPhone and dialed her number as he opened the box on his desk.

  “This is Lola, leave a message.” Her voice mail played in his ear.

  “Babe, I’m on my way. I know I’m cutting it close, but . . .” He stopped talking when he saw there was a second box in the big red one. “Umm, we can still grab something to eat from that Thai place you . . .” His voice trailed off again when he opened the second box and saw its contents. Divorce papers. “Lola! What in the hell.” He hung up the phone, grabbed his keys, and ran down five flights of stairs to get to his executive parking spot. “Divorce papers? What is going on?”

  He unlocked the doors on his Jaguar and sped out of the parking lot as if he were on the pole of the Ford 200. Speeding down 134th Street, Jon didn’t give a damn about cops or speeding tickets. He needed to know what in the blue hell his wife was thinking when she served him with divorce papers.

  “Flight 453 for Aspen is now boarding,” the voice over the PA system announced. Lola wiped her sweaty palms on her black leggings, then stood up.

  “You still have plenty of time to change your mind,” Tashmir said.

  “I want a white Christmas and I’m going to get one.”

  Tashmir shook her head and grabbed her bag. “Not just talking about the trip.”

  “Don’t start.”

  “I’m still in awe; you sent the man divorce papers in a Christmas box, had the decorations stripped from the house, and just left without a word.”

  “Do you know where Jon and I were supposed to be, right now? Dinner in Miami Beach. Reservations were at six-thirty, then dancing. What was I doing at six-thirty?”

  Tashmir sighed. “Sitting in my café waiting for me to get my bags.”

  “And what time did my husband call me?”

  “Seven-thirty. But—”

  “But nothing. I’ve been living like this too long and I’m sick of it.”

  “That man loves you and you’ve ruined his Christmas.” The women walked to the boarding gate in silence. Lola was lost in thoughts of Christmases past.

  Orlando never seemed to cool off, Lola thought when she looked at the calendar above her desk at Bank of America. December twenty-fourth and it was eight-five degrees outside.

  “Lola, what are you still doing here?” her supervisor asked when she passed Lola’s desk.

  “Overtime.”

  “It’s Christmas, go home.”

  Lola smiled, happy to get the okay to leave. Though she and Jon needed the extra money, she wanted to pick up a few things for their first Christmas dinner and get a tree. Too bad she wouldn’t be able to import some snow from Asheville. “Thanks, Myra.”

  “Blame it on the Christmas spirit,” she replied with a wink. Lola shut her computer down and dashed out of the office. She worked as a loan processor and hated every minute of it. But she and Jon needed the money. He had just started his software company and had yet to turn a profit. She didn’t mind working to help supplement their income. His dreams were on the brink of coming true and Lola marveled at watching her husband doing what he loved, even if she had no clue about codes and process models.

  Last night, he’d been so excited about finishing a program that he said was going to revolutionize word processing. When he’d saved his work, he’d walked into the bedroom where Lola had been smoothing lotion on her legs and took the apple-scented lotion from her hands. Without saying a word, he’d spread her thighs and kissed her down low until she moaned in delight. Then he’d slipped his tongue between her wet folds of flesh, seeking out her throbbing pearl.

  “Oh, Jon!” she cried out as her knees quivered. She gripped the back of his bald head as he dove deeper inside her with his mouth. He sucked and licked until she lost all control. Quivering on the bed, Lola admired her husband’s body as he pulled off his Orlando Magic T-shirt—rippling muscles, broad chest, skin the color of milk chocolate. The man was stacked and fine, with his sparkling hazel eyes. She loved every inch of him, loved his drive, his soul, and his spirit. And to think she almost didn’t take his number all of those years ago. Tashmir had been right; Jonathan Michael Joseph was one of a kind.

  And he was all hers. That’s why this Christmas meal had to be perfect. Lola pulled into the supermarket’s crowded parking lot and groaned. No one planned ahead anymore? She really couldn’t be mad at the last-minute shoppers, since she was one herself. But did she have to buy this huge turkey? And the damned thing was frozen. She threw it in the shopping cart anyway. Lola tried to remember what that dish was Jon raved about that his mother made every Christmas?

  Picadillo à la habanera! That was it. But she was sure it didn’t come in a can. Damn. She knew she should’ve printed the recipe when she was at work, but she had hopes that she would’ve found a couple of Cornish hens, not this mammoth turkey. Shrugging, she decided that she’d make arroz con leche. Rice pudding was easy enough to make. And there was a recipe for it right at the end of the aisle. Lola was silently kicking herself for not paying attention to her grandmother when she’d cook the most amazing Christmas desserts. Lola had only been interested in licking the batter from the bowls and eating the finished product. She smiled as she picked up the card, remembering her grandmother saying, “Thank God you’re smart, because you are not interested in cooking at all. But one day, you’re going to meet a man who will inspire you to cook and you’re going to be sorry.”

  Being that Lola was ten at the time, she had been sure that would never happen to her. Then it did happen with Jon. And every lesson she’d ignored in the kitchen came back to haunt her. But she was going to get this dinner right—hopefully. As she walked through the store and saw all of the empty shelves, Lola wanted to cry. There was nothing on the store shelves that she needed to create the perfect Christmas dinner. Nothing but a turkey. Lola started grabbing random items and tossing them in the cart, including spaghetti noodles, marinara sauce, and a crusty loaf of garlic bread. Feeling dejected and pissed off for waiting until the last minute to shop for Christmas dinner, Lola headed for the checkout line. She found the shortest line behind a mother and her three children. Lola noticed the smallest boy was crying.

  “Billy, it’s okay,” the mother said as she loaded her items on the register belt.

  “But we always had turkey for Christmas when Daddy was here,” he said between sobs.

  “Baby,” she said in a hushed tone. “Daddy will have his turkey dinner in heaven this Christmas.” Lola watched as the woman’s eyes filled with tears.

  “Billy,” one of the older kids said, “stop making Mommy sad.” Afrown clouded his face and Lola choked back her own emotions. She lifted the bird from her buggy.

  “Excuse me,” she said. “I think this was the last turkey, I don’t need it.” Lola placed the frozen bird on the belt.

  “It’s all right,” the mother said. “You
have a family who . . .”

  “Listen,” Lola said, offering her a smile, “I wanted Cornish hens. I have no clue what to do with all of this.”

  The woman crossed over to Lola and hugged her tightly. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  “Merry Christmas,” Lola said with a big smile. The little boy who’d been crying tugged at Lola’s pant leg.

  “What are you going to eat for Christmas?”

  She shrugged and patted him on the shoulder. “Whatever it is, it’s going to be delicious. You enjoy your turkey.” He hugged her around her long legs and Lola fought back her tears. She couldn’t wait for the day she and Jon welcomed their own children into the world. A boy and a girl, maybe two boys. Of course, they had to get out of the one-bedroom apartment they lived in. And they needed more money. And she definitely needed to learn how to cook.

  After checking out and heading to her car, Lola found herself yearning for a cold Asheville afternoon with snow clouds hovering in the air. Instead, she was smacked with humidity and eighty-degree weather. Lola shook her head and loaded the groceries in the car, wondering how she was going make a Christmas dinner out of spaghetti and rice pudding.

  Driving home, Lola popped in the Jackson 5 Christmas CD she and her grandmother used to listen to when she was a kid. As Michael sang about seeing Mommy kissing Santa, Lola joined in at the top of her lungs. She almost forgot about the lack of a traditional Christmas. She pulled in the parking lot of the apartment complex and grabbed the groceries from the trunk. As Lola headed up to her apartment, she hummed the tune she was listening to in the car. Opening the door, she was greeted by cold air and the sound of Donny Hathaway. “What in the world?” she whispered as she glanced at the scene in front of her: twinkling Christmas lights, fake snow spread across the living-room floor, and a tree in the corner. “Jon!” she called out as she dropped the bags at her feet.

  Her husband was dressed in a Santa sweatshirt, jean shorts, and a wide smile. “Merry Christmas, baby,” he said as he crossed over to her and kissed her cheek. “I couldn’t get the real thing here, this was the best I could do.”

  Lola wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “What did I do to deser ve you?”

  “You said yes when I asked you to marry me,” he said, then captured her lips in a passionate kiss while Donny sang about mistletoe and Christmas lights. She tugged at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin pressed against hers. Jon broke the kiss and unbuttoned her oxford shirt. Smiling at her lacy black bra, he unzipped her skirt and watched it flutter to the floor. His smile widened when he saw her matching thong. “You are so sexy,” he intoned as he ran his hand across her hip.

  “You have me at a disadvantage, Jonathan Michael,” she cooed. “I’m practically naked and you’re fully dressed.”

  “Not for long,” he replied, then stripped down to his boxers. Pulling her against his chest, Jon unhooked her bra and slipped the straps down her shoulders. “Let’s get rid of everything in my way.”

  “Baby, it’s cold in here.”

  He lavished a pointed gaze on her erect nipples. “I know.” Jon stroked her breasts, then covered her hard nubs with his mouth. Lola instantly heated up as his tongue traced her nipples. “Mmm,” she moaned as she stroked the back of his head, encouraging his wanton kiss to continue. Jon obliged her silent request, nibbling at her nipple in between licks and sucks. Lola felt her desire pooling between her thighs. “Jon!” she called out. He replied by scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to the tree. He laid her down on the Santa Claus blanket he’d spread out next to the tree. Lola locked eyes with him and smiled. “I love you so much,” she said.

  “I love you more, baby,” he replied, then spread her thighs apart and dove in. Pushing her barely there thong out of his way, Jon sucked and licked her wet folds of flesh until she shook and shivered in delight. His hands massaged her breasts while he sucked her throbbing pearl and she screamed his name.

  “Yes, baby! Yes,” Lola cried as she came, her desire flowing like an ocean. Jon kicked out of his boxers and she admired his erection—long, thick, all hers. Flipping over on her stomach, she reached up and took him in her hands, stroking him until he called out her name. Lola flicked her tongue across the tip of his penis and then took his hardness into her mouth. Jon buried his hands in her hair as she took control of his body with her lips and tongue.

  “You feel so good, so good,” he intoned as she sucked slowly. “Need to be inside you, babe.”

  She looked up at him and gave his erection one last lick before pulling back. “I need you inside me,” she responded. Jon kneeled down on the blanket and pulled Lola against his chest. Their bodies fit together like a lock and key as she wrapped her long legs around his waist. Plunging into her wetness, Jon groaned in delight while Lola clutched his back, pulling him closer as she called out his name. They fell into a slow rhythm, rocking to the sounds of their heartbeats. They were in sync, moaning in concert as their passion intensified. Lola ground against him, feeling him dive deeper, sending waves of pleasure up and down her spine. Jon captured her lips and kissed her senseless. Her soft moans filled the air and seemed to fuel Jon as he thrust harder and deeper into her hungry body.

  “Jon, Jon,” she cried.

  “That’s it, baby. Come for me. Let me feel it.”

  Lola’s body gushed and her thighs quivered as she reached her climax. Seconds later, Jon reached his own explosive release. The couple collapsed on a blanket just as Donny Hathaway began singing “This Christmas” again.

  “Merry Christmas, babe,” he breathed in her ear.

  “You’ve made it a very merry one, darling. But . . .”

  “But?”

  Lola toyed with a curl of hair on his chest. “I went to get food for a nice Christmas dinner. But I waited too late,” she said.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Jon replied. “Mama sent a cake.”

  Lola pouted. “That’s not dinner.”

  “What did you get, babe?” He brushed her hair off her forehead.

  “I wanted Cornish hens. . . .”

  “Lola, what did you get?”

  “And I had a turkey, but I was in line behind this family who’d just lost their father. The youngest little boy really wanted turkey. It was his dad’s favorite.”

  Jon kissed Lola’s collarbone. “That was so sweet. And so like you. But what were you going to do with a turkey anyway?”

  She pinched his muscular forearm. “You know they have a hotline to help people cook the turkey.”

  “So, it would’ve been New Year’s Day before we’d get to eat Christmas dinner?” He stroked her cheek.

  “You got jokes.”

  Jon slipped his hand between Lola’s thighs. “If I have to eat you for dinner, I’m good with that. You taste so damn good.”

  Smirking as her husband stroked her wetness and made her shiver, Lola moaned. “But what am I going to have to eat?”

  “Whatever is in that bag at the door,” he said with a wink.

  About an hour later, the afterglow began to dim and Jon got up to cut pieces of cake for him and Lola. She watched as he walked into the kitchen in his boxers. She still marveled at his body and loved watching him walk out of a room. She grabbed his discarded shirt, put it on, and then plugged in the tree. As she stood back and smiled at the twinkling lights, Jon returned to the living room with the slices of chocolate cake. “Penny for your thoughts,” he said as he handed Lola her treat.

  “I’m thinking that I have the most incredible husband in the world. You gave me a white Christmas in Florida.”

  “One day,” he said, “I’m going to give you everything your pretty little heart desires.”

  “My biggest desire is right here. All I need is you, Jonathan Michael.”

  She crossed the room and cranked up the stereo as Donny Hathaway began crooning about hanging mistletoe again.

  “Lola!” Tashmir said, pulling her teary-eyed friend out of her reverie.
r />   “Huh?”

  Tashmir stroked her friend’s arm. “It’s not too late for you to come to your senses and go home.”

  Lola squeezed her tears back. “Nope, I’ve made my decision and I’m sticking to it. I’ll bet he doesn’t even realize I’m gone.”

  Finally, Jon arrived at the sprawling mansion he shared with his wife. The first thing he noticed when he pulled into the circular driveway was darkness. Just two days ago, their place had been filled with Christmas spirit. Sparkling stars and three eight-foot trees that decorated the wide veranda were gone. Even the candy-cane–colored wreaths, which he had not been a fan of, were gone.

  “What in the hell?” he exclaimed as he bound to the door. When Titus Harlan, the family’s butler, opened the door, Jon uncharacteristically blew past him, screaming Lola’s name.

  “Sir,” Titus said. “Mrs. Joseph left a note for you.” He handed Jon the note. Jon didn’t really look at it. He frantically gripped the older man’s hand.

  “Did she say where she was going?”

  “No, sir.”

  Dropping his hand, Jon was getting pissed off. What was going on in Lola’s head? A divorce at Christmas?

  “Mrs. Joseph gave the staff our holiday pay early and said to take down the decorations. She gave Lucy and Marvin a tree for their home.”

  Jon would’ve smiled because Christmas always brought out the best in Lola. She was already a giving and kind woman, but she hated seeing sadness on Christmas. Did Jon miss his wife’s own sadness?

  “Sir, she did spend a lot of time on the computer over the last few days and I don’t think she was just on the book with all of the faces,” Titus said with a smile.

  “Thanks,” Jon said as he stalked over to the computer in the corner of the family room. He pulled up the Internet browser and checked the history. There were a lot of searches for Aspen.

  “Damn it,” he moaned. “I should have known she’d be somewhere with snow.” He wiped his face and shook his head. There wasn’t anything in the history that gave him a clue as to why his wife wanted to end their marriage. He’d even logged on to her Facebook account, since Lola never logged off, and checked her inbox messages. He looked at the messages, searching the pictures for a man whom she might be in Aspen with. But he quickly closed the tab on the Internet browser. There was no way Lola was with another man, was she? Who just filed for divorce for no reason? Jon banged his hand against the computer desk. Something more had to be going on. Why, he wondered. Why had she decided that ending their marriage at Christmas was the right thing to do? Hell, ending their marriage at any time was not the right thing to do!