“You probably don’t, but just in case you do, keep this French proverb in mind Omari. Adversity is the touchstone of friendship.”
“True, okay, I’ll call you when I get this under control,” I said before I hung the phone up and headed toward the balcony.
Once there, I took a deep breath before I slowly slid the glass door open until I spotted a soaking wet Nique huddled in the corner of the balcony. I knew she heard me coming, but she still kept her head lowered toward a fresh pile of vomit while her entire body trembled like some frightened child.
“I would like to say that I didn’t know anything about all this, but in a way I did Nique, because you left me a clue didn’t you,” I took a seat next to her. “I found that token exactly where you wanted me to find it. Didn’t I?”
Without looking up at me, she nodded her head yes.
“I didn’t wanna believe it, so I tossed the whole notion out of my mind. I guess I was being selfish and for that, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault Omari…”
“And nor is it yours Nique,” I said before I wiped her chocolate face clear of tummy discharge. “Yeah, you fell, but you’re not down for the count are you?”
Nique closed her eyes tightly as if she was expecting someone to scold her.
“I wanted to be normal for just this once. I wanted to be my old self again, and more than that, I wanted you to like me as I liked you.”
“How could I ever not like you Nique? I mean what’s not to like? You’re beautiful, smart, and almost as cool as I am. C’mon now, you can’t have it all.”
Nique allowed that confident smile of hers to show a little before she finally released her hold on that bottle of scotch. And before I could say another word, she quickly retrieved it and tossed on to the street below.
“Fuck, I can’t believe I put you through all this. My God, would you look at me. I’m a complete mess, aren’t I?”
“That doesn’t matter any. Look how bout we go back inside and make you all pretty again so we can sit down and talk over a cup of coffee.”
“We can’t just drink any cup of coffee while we’re here New Orleans Omari.”
“You know something, you’re right. So what do you have in mind?”
“Café Du Monde. How does that sound?”
“Not at this time of the night.”
“Stick with me kid, and I’ll show you some things,” Nique said before she returned to her feet.
“Nique?”
“Yes, Omari?”
“When times get hard, always remember, that this too, will pass.”
She nodded her head okay before we returned to the playground. This time around we weren’t going inside to play those games that lovers play. I guess it was time for the adult in us to act the part, and that’s exactly what we did. Because after Nique cleaned up, and sobered up, we both got dressed and headed back out on to the whimsical New Orleans streets in search of the perfect cup of French coffee. We eventually found that perfect cup of wake me up juice, inside a petite café located at the top of Bourbon Street. Of course one of us was half-asleep, while the other was half-inebriated; nevertheless, we sat there talking not as lovers, but as newfound friends.
The rest of our weekend went rather well, and without incident after we did the impossible by bypassing most of the drinking establishments that occupied most of the French Quarter. Instead of partying and drinking, we decided to be a little more cultured by visiting places like the Aquarium of the Americas, the Mahalia Jackson Theater of the Performing Arts and taking a delightful ride down the Mississippi River on a riverboat.
After the boat ride, Nique begged and pleaded with me to go shopping with her in the Warehouse and Arts District. Shopping with a beautiful woman was never a problem for me as long as it didn’t last more than two hours. In the end, we spent the rest the weekend getting to know each other in and out of bed. So much so, I felt a huge sense of sadness when it came time for us to fly back to Atlanta.
On the plane, we didn’t say much to each other because we were either exhausted, or simply afraid about what was to going come of us once we returned back to our lives. The answer to that should have been clear as day seeing how my lifestyle would be extremely toxic to her. But once we reached my house, Nique didn’t say a word, instead she made love to me as if she owned me, and I mean all of me. This display of passion confused me; however, I didn’t question it. Truth of the matter was I wanted to stay loved as long as I could.
Strictly business…so they say
I must have had way too much fun in New Orleans, because the God of over exertion, and regulations, not to mention anxiety, decided to ambush me the moment I returned to work. I should have known there was going to be a price to pay for all that personal freedom. Twenty-four hours after loving Nique, I was back on an airplane heading to Texas to meet up with Greg.
After I hired him, Cece immediately put him to work by sending him to Texas as the acting lead on my first out of town IT job. Didn’t take him long to run into problems with the administrative part of the assignment. I sort of expected there would be few bumps in the roads seeing how this was Greg’s first real job in years. Nevertheless it didn’t take me long to fix the problem once I arrived in Texas. After my business was done there, I found myself heading to Los Angeles to cater this high profile album release party that I managed to acquire while I was at Nique’s industry party. Twenty-five thousand dollars later, I was back in Atlanta for another album release party before I took a redeye to New York City so that I could cater some type of hip-hop fashion gala that showcased a dozen or so major hip-hop artists.
My son would have easily given up his entire summer to see and hear some of the things I had seen over the last three weeks.
After all of the album release parties were done, I concentrated the rest of my energies on the wireless network project in Texas, which meant I had to catch another plane back to Texas. Once there, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work. However, Greg’s team of computer technicians didn’t quite warm up to me as they had with him. I tried my best to act like one of the guys, and not the check writer, but I still ended up alienating half the team before I decided to jump back on a plane to Atlanta.
My flight landed in Atlanta. I picked up my luggage and was about to head home when I discovered Greg’s girlfriend standing outside of a bookstore reading a magazine. From the looks of her neatly stacked luggage, I concluded that she was probably waiting to catch a flight. Not wanting to be bothered, and feeling sure that she hadn’t seen me and my lone suitcase heading out of the building. I scooted past her without speaking, however before I made my escape, I suddenly felt impelled to go back and speak to her. Why I don’t know, nevertheless I returned to the bookstore and discovered that she wasn’t there. I looked around for her briefly, but came up empty. As soon as I was about to walk away, somebody reached out and tapped me on my shoulder.
“Hey Mr. Willingham.”
I recognized the voice, turned around and said, “September right?”
“Unless you know another one, that’ll be me.” “I thought I saw you standing over here, but I wasn’t
sure so I played it safe.”
September rolled her eyes and said, “If you say so Mr.
Willingham.”
Caught in a lie, and feeling foolish about it, I came
back with, “So how have you been?”
“I’m healthy, thank God. And you, how have you been
Mr. Willingham?”
“Good thank you.”
“And that’s all that matters Mr. Willingham.” “Tell me something September, do I really look that
old, or are you just trying to piss me off with all this Mr.
Willingham stuff.”
“Sorry Mr. Willingham…damn I did it again. Look,
we Brits are a stickler with our titles.”
“I would’ve never pegged you for a UK chick.” “Is that what you Yanks callin’ us thes
e days,”
September said after she switched to a heavy British accent.
“Swear some of you dough boys can afford to be smacked with
a truncheon or two.”
“Go head with your James Bond sounding ass.” “I mind you our majesties favorite fictional son only
comes in one flavor.”
“I guess you haven’t watched a single episode of 24. “Different brand, but still the same old flavor Omari.” “That’s probably why I stick with the classics, or a
good old fashion mystery novel.”
“Stop the presses; an African American man that reads
something more than fifty pages long.”
“Is that what they taught you about us on that stuffy
island of yours?”
“I can admit that the term stuffiness was created and
nurtured in England. At least we Brits take responsibility for
our actions.”
“Try and tell that to the people of India, Africa or even
Iraq for that matter.”
“To the victor, go the spoils Omari.”
“I’ll give you that one,” I said before I took a slight
bow.
“Originality fits you well. So how’s everything coming
in Texas?”
“What you really wanna know is; how’s Greg doing,
right?”
“Reading minds must be an American trait.” “Trust me it’s a curse that keeps giving.”
“I bet.”
“He’s doing a great job; in fact he should be home
sometime next week.”
“That’s what he said.”
“Which part, him doing a great job, or coming home
next week?”
“The coming home part silly,” September replied with
an infectious smile.
“So where are you flying off to?”
“Texas.”
Obviously, a beautiful woman like September couldn’t
and shouldn’t be left alone for too long. I should known,
because that’s exactly what I did to Olivia and the kids while I
was in the Army. Going here, and there, doing this and that
turned my marriage into crap. Looking back, if I could do one
thing over, I would have never joined the Army. Then again, if
I hadn’t joined up, I probably would have never meant Olivia.
This meant I would have missed out on Jamal and Jasmine
who I rarely see anyway.
“Earth calling Omari. Earth calling Omari.” “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”
“I said I’m going to Texas to see Greg. I assumed he
told you as much seeing how you’re his boss and everything.” “Technically, Greg is actually a private contractor
September.”
Suddenly, September looked worried, “But he still
works for you right?”
“Yes and no. Hell, ask him to explain it to you when
you get to Texas. Maybe he’ll say more than three words to
you, because I swear that man must hate talking to me.” “He’s that way with everybody, don’t take it
personally.”
“Well that’s good to know. Anyway I guess I should
head on home. It was nice seeing…”
“I’ll see you this Saturday afternoon right?” The puzzled look on my face must have said it all,
because September allowed that addictive smile of hers to form
again before she explained. “Your Dreamscape Catering
Service is supposed to be catering this years Man of the Year
after party.”
“Really?”
“Men and their lackluster memory. I told Greg about it
last night, I guess he forgot to tell you. The after party is going
to take place at the recreational center.”
“That’s news to me,” I replied, wondering why Cece
hadn’t bothered to tell me this. “I guess I’ll see you Saturday.” A few minutes later I was finally back at home, having
a few drinks and reading the newest Spartacus Thorn mystery
novel when Cece, Nique, and my mother decided to call me all
at the same damn time. I loved my mother and her diva ways,
and Nique and our friendship had grown considerably over
the last few months; however money paid the bills, so I put
those two on hold so I could chat with Cece.
“I hate to interrupt you on your day off Omari, and I
know we haven’t had a face to face in a while, but I thought
you should know that the DA’s office is going to start their
investigation sometime this week.”
“I take it I’m still a target?”
“They subpoenaed all of your financial records just
this morning. I called Sharon and she said that this was
expected, and that I should inform you as soon as possible.
Other than that, she said there was nothing more we could do
at the moment.”
“She’s right, it’s a wait see game now. I’ll give Sharon a
call a little later on, just do me a favor and don’t worry over
this Cece. You and I have played by the rules from the very
beginning.”
“True, but…”
“Which means all of our books is straight. So what’s
going on with this Man of the year award thing this weekend?” “The Urban League of Atlanta requested your services
while you were in Texas. I sent you the email, but I guess you
didn’t get it. Anyway, I assumed you wouldn’t be here in time
to take it, so I contracted the job to Antonio and his people.
Was that okay?”
“He understood that this is a Dreamscape gig right?” “They picked up their company tee shirts and hats
early this morning. There should be no doubt about who
bought his momma some brand new shoes this week.” “I know that’s right, so did they request anything
specific?”
“They left the whole shebang up to us.”
“And what did Antonio come up with?”
“Your typical black tie event, which means he’ll
probably go lean in attempt to save money.”
“Lemme guess, chicken cordon bleu, a watered down
soup, a toss salad, and a slice of pecan pie coupled with some
moderately priced Riesling to wash it all down.”
“It’s hard to believe that you and Antonio went to the
same cooking school. But, I knew you wouldn’t go for that, so
what do you want me to tell him?”
“I guess I don’t hafta tell you that over sixty percent of
our clientele is going to be at this event, which means they’re
going to expect the Dreamscape treatment.”
“You’re probably right Omari.”
“Probably, and if you ask me, this is why they hired us
in the first place Cece. So I say, let’s drop the chicken and the
cheap wine act. If they wanted to save some money, they
should have hired someone else. Besides, this is supposed to be
a celebration, so let’s do the damn thing.”
“Point and I shall follow boss.”
“Okay, I want a roaring twenties theme, Beluga caviar
served very chilled with toast points or blini, crème fraiche,
and chopped onion for the appetizer. For the main dish, let’s
knock their socks off with Alaskan Salmon cooked in Moet.” “And for the gentlemen?”
“Let’s do an easily accessible open bar, slash cigar bar,
but let’s try and keep it somewhat out of sight. There’s going to
be few over the top do-go
oders there if you know what I
mean?”
“I know the perfect place for that. What’s for dessert?” “That’s Antonio’s specialty, let him figure that part
out.”
“I’ll type all this up and email you everything in about
an hour. Is there anything else that you want to add, or know
before I get this done?”
“What were the financial terms?”
“Antonio gets sixty percent while we get the rest. “Figured that, so how many jobs have we sent his way
this year?”
“Saturday’s gig will be his tenth one. That shouldn’t
matter because we’re both making money under the
company’s name. Sounds like a win, win situation to me
Omari.”
“True, but I bet you that chump won’t even send me a
Christmas card this year.”
“Are you still pissed about that man not sending you a
card last year?”
“I’m helping that sucker send his kids to college, so
sending me a Christmas card shouldn’t be that damn hard.” “Do you want me to talk him about it; I can if you
want me to.”
“No, he’ll think I’m some sort of neurotic head case.
Look, my mother is on the other line. I’ll talk to you later.” Before I allowed Boney to switch me over to my
mother, I pulled out my MDA and emailed Michael and
Zackary to let them know that I was back in town. I hadn’t
tasted my share of their everyday drama in awhile. On top of
that I sort of missed them both.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, Pumpkin, thought I call and let you know that I
will be in town this Saturday.”
“Really, what’s going on Saturday?”
“Sonny Winkler is up for the Man of the year award.” “That couldn’t happen to a more crooked person.” “How that man earned his loot, and what he does with
it, isn’t a concern of mines.”
“So how many houses have you sold Sonny mom?” “Okay smart ass, I’m not the one that’s about to be
investigated am I?”
“Point taken, do you need me to pick you up at the…” “What’s the deal with my grandchildren not coming
home this summer?”
My mother adored my children probably more than
the two people who created them and as much as she hated to
The Other Side of My Kitchen Page 11
