“You might be the first man in my life who has asked me if I want to talk. And isn’t that a telling statement,” she muttered. “Hence, the reason for this little experiment.” She twirled her finger around the rim of her wine glass. “I’m not going to bore you with all of the details, but suffice it to say my parents let me know early on that they had certain expectations of me, and I wasn’t living up to who they wanted me to be. Mainly, I wasn’t focusing my energies in the career direction they felt was acceptable. What I wanted and what my passions were didn’t matter. So as a result, I kinda spent my childhood doing whatever I could to piss them off, and then as I got older I pissed them off in other ways.” She was remembering right before her eleventh birthday, when she had first told them what she wanted to do in life.
“How old were you when you first realized they wanted you to be something you weren’t?”
She stopped when she heard how he had worded the question, and was taken aback by his intuitiveness.
“I was 10.”
“That’s a lot of pressure for parents to put on a 10 year old kid,” he said after a moment.
She sat there quietly, looking wistfully at him. “Yeah. It is.”
“What did you want to be when you grew up?” he asked quietly.
“I wanted to be a chef, or a writer. Maybe a food critic so I could combine the two passions I had. I loved both.”
“And now you do both, from what I understand. You cook and you write a blog.”
“I do what I love. That’s all I wanted. They just don’t understand. My dad’s a doctor, my mom’s a lawyer. I have one younger brother who’s studying to be a dentist, which is barely good enough for them. Not to mention he’s gay. I adore him. And even though he hasn’t come out to them yet, I just know that little nugget of truth will put them over the edge. Ridiculous,” she muttered. She stopped her train of thought and shook her head. “At least he went into the medical field which gave him some points, but I’ve been a horrible disappointment to them.” Not wanting to have a pity party in front of him, she changed the subject. “How about you? What did you want to be when you grew up?”
He watched her for a moment, then finally answered her question. “I’ve always been great with numbers, so I knew it would be something where I could figure stuff out, work out equations, things like that.”
“Ryann told me you used to work on Wall Street. You know, where all the rich people work.” She punctuated the statement with a gleam in her eye and a smile touching her full lips.
It was his turn to cock his head and examine her. “Yup. That’s me. Mr. Money-bags.”
“What made you leave Wall Street to be a teacher?”
The windows to his soul seemed to shut a little and she could tell she wasn’t going to get a fully honest answer.
“I thought it would be good for kids to learn how to manage their money early on.”
“I wish I had someone teaching me all that stuff. I kind of learned it on my own through trial and error.”
“How did things progress with your parents? Did you go to school? Did they help out?”
She smiled softly. “No. There was no help from Mommy and Daddy. Actually, I got a scholarship to NYU for writing. I got a bachelor’s there, and during that time, my extracurricular activities focused on working for restaurants, learning the ins and outs of the culinary business. I started writing my food blog, getting my feet wet. Eventually, I saved enough money to go to Europe to study in Paris—”
“Le Cordon Bleu. I remember.”
“Yeah,” she was touched he had remembered a very short conversation on the elevator weeks back when Ryann had told him that bit of information. “It was an incredible, life changing experience. It was right after that when Ryann’s husband died.” Ayanna got pensive for a moment. She couldn’t seem to think about one experience without linking it with the other. She had just gotten home from her final semester of studying abroad, and he had died only a few weeks later in January. “I don’t wish that experience on my worst enemy. I never want to see her go through that kind of pain again.”
“No one would wish that on anyone. Ryann’s an incredibly strong woman.”
“The strongest one I know,” Ayanna said in a low voice. “I admire her more than I could possibly put into words.”
“She thinks the world of you, too.” He was steadily watching her.
Ayanna looked at him, a tender look on her face. “She’s my bestie, no doubt. She sees the good in me more than anyone. It amazes me how unconditional her love is for me.” So unlike my parents, the thought popped in, and she could feel her eyes prick with tears.
Shit. What the fuck was she talking to him about this stuff for? She would be a bawling mess if she didn’t redirect this conversation. Mentally shaking herself, she shifted against the wall and changed the subject.
“Did you know that Janie Callahan was in Paris studying cooking the year before me? We found that out at the barbeque.”
He looked a little thrown at the abrupt change in conversation, but then caught up.
“No, I hadn’t heard that. That must’ve been a cool realization when you both discovered it.”
“Yeah, it was. We’re actually thinking of doing something together. Business wise, I mean. We’re gonna hook up sometime this Saturday to brainstorm.” Ayanna’s thoughts moved again. “Did Emily tell you about dinner next Monday?”
“Yup. I’ll be there.”
Ayanna tried not to beam, but she was seriously happy he was going.
“I actually think I’m gonna go to the self-defense class beforehand, too,” he said, surprising her. “Hang out and watch.”
Ayanna’s eyebrow shot up. “Really? You wanna watch all of us girls learn how to kick some ass?”
His lips formed into a droll smile. “I know. Ick. Who would wanna watch that? A bunch of hot and sweaty chicks in workout gear and sports bras, wrestling with each other on a mat.”
“Well, well,” Ayanna snickered. “It looks like Johnny Be Good isn’t so ‘good’ after all.”
“Hey, that’s your nickname for me, not mine.”
She could feel the arousal hit her. Johnny Be Good had a bad side? “What would your nickname be for yourself if you could pick it?”
“Well, now that you’ve established that we’re only going to be friends, Yan, and you won’t be blessing me with your sexual advances anymore, I don’t know if I should tell you.” His eyes glittered. “You might not be able to handle it.”
She squirmed, feeling the sexual tension slam into her like a two by four, but played it cool again like she had before. “Ooh. Now I’m intrigued.”
He watched her squirm, then straightened his leg and leaned forward. “This is gonna be fun,” he breathed, his mouth kicking up into a semblance of a smile, his gaze lasering into her. “Knowing I can say whatever I want, get you all flustered and you’re not going to be able to exact any sexual revenge.”
She was definitely turned on and she was pretty sure he knew it. He, however, looked completely unaffected, having fun at her expense.
“A girl doesn’t have to use sex as revenge, you know. But give it your best shot, champ. Fluster me all you want. I always have B.O.B. to help me out.”
His brow crinkled. “Who’s Bob?”
Her eyes sparkled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She waited a moment to see if he would figure it out. She could tell when he did, because he swallowed and folded his hands in his lap.
“You have one of those things?” His eyes were like lasers.
“Doesn’t every woman have one?” she asked amused.
“Do they?” He eyes bore into her.
“Oh, it looks like we’re back to ‘Johnny Be Good’ again.” She liked toying with him. “Any bad boy would know most women have a battery operated boyfriend.”
“I’m a goody goody because I don’t know that most women have vibrators?” Then he nailed her with his gaze. “Yan, trust me. The women I’ve been with haven’t neede
d vibrators.” He paused again and gave her another pointed look, allowing that comment to sink in. “How sad that you would need one,” he tsked. “Maybe it is good to take a break from these men if they’ve been leaving you so unsatisfied,” he said, needling her.
She took a moment to compose herself and to get her raging hormones in check. This man made her so horny. How long did she say she was going to go without sex? Could she even make the next two weeks with this man as her neighbor? She sensed she and B.O.B. were going to be getting to know each other on a whole new level in the coming weeks.
However, Ayanna wasn’t about to allow Johnny Be Good to have the upper hand.
“Well,” she said breezily, “I just have to get through my first ‘no sex’ date tomorrow, then I’ll be on my way to the new me.”
“Don’t even tell me you’re going out with one of these bozos after you’ve already made your decision.”
Now that got a reaction.
“The date is already on the books. I can’t back out.”
“Of course you can back out. Girls do it all of the time.”
“Well, I don’t,” she huffed.
“Does this guy know he’s not getting any at the end of his date?”
“He shouldn’t expect it! It’s not like I give it up to every single guy I go out with. Guys shouldn’t expect sex at the end of a date. And no, he doesn’t know yet. But he will. At some point during the evening,” she muttered.
“How did you meet this guy?” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“At the gym.”
“Uh, huh. Great. And who approached who for this date?”
“First of all, why are you pissed? And second of all, why do you care?” She wanted to smack him.
“Answer my question first,” he challenged.
“I approached him, if you must know. He’s a very nice guy. I only met him last week. I wanted to try out my softer approach. And before you ask, no, I didn’t come on too strong.” Jon was giving her a look that said Yeah, right. “Fuck, Jon. It’s not like I mauled the guy, or anything.”
“How do you know he’s a nice guy? What’s he like? What does he do for a living?”
“I already answered one of your questions. Now you answer mine,” she demanded.
“What were they again?” The jerk was trying to buy some time.
She narrowed her eyes then rolled them. She snapped her fingers. “Pay attention, Jon. Stay with me here. They were: Why are you so pissed, and why do you care?”
“Pissed is a strong word. I’m just a little surprised that you would make such a huge decision about your sex life, then choose to still go out with a guy who may have certain expectations. And I care because I don’t want some guy taking advantage of you in your,” he paused for effect, “weakened state.”
She had begun to think him sweet when he started with I don’t want some guy to take advantage of you. But it was the last part that stopped her in her tracks.
“What?! What the fuck does that mean, my weakened state?” For some reason she found that hilarious and started to crack up.
“For you, it is a weakened state. You said yourself you don’t have a lot of experience in this area. How do you know you won’t be tempted beyond what you can bear?”
Wiping the tears of hilarity from her eyes, she said, “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Johnny Be Good. Do you think I’m some kind of nympho, or something? And the only way I’ll know that I can handle it is if I give it a try.”
“Now it’s your turn to answer my questions: How do you know he’s a nice guy, and what does he do for a living? Does he even have a job?”
She chuckled. “Yes, Dad, he has a job. He’s an accountant. That’s how I know he’s a nice guy.”
“An accountant?! He’s a fucking accountant?” Now it was his turn to laugh, and boy, did he ever. “An accountant doesn’t make him a nice guy, Yan. It makes him boring as shit.”
She thought the same thing, but if she was going to alter the types of men she was going to date, she needed to start somewhere. You can’t turn a ship on a dime, and all that.
“He wasn’t boring as shit. He was very nice.”
“What’s his name?”
“Poindexter,” she said without missing a beat.
He blinked. “Shut the fuck up. It is not.”
She gave him a saucy smile and shrugged. He smiled back and rolled his eyes at her. Not for the first time had she wished Jon was interested in her, and at the same time, she wished she wasn’t so interested in him.
“It’s Eugene.”
“Seriously, Yan. What’s his name?”
“I’m serious. That’s his name.”
He shook his head. “It’s Eugene? Wow, Yan. You sure know how to pick ’em.”
“Alright, that’s enough. I’m going to go out with him tomorrow night, we’re going to have a nice time, and I’m not going to have sex. So, that’s that.” She brushed off her hands and got up from the floor, taking her wine glass with her. “You want some more wine?”
“No, I’m gonna get going.” He got up too, and followed her into the kitchen carrying his empty wine glass with him. She took it from him, their fingers touching. They looked at each other briefly, but ignored the spark that was felt.
At least there was a spark on her side. She began rinsing the glasses in the sink.
He leaned against the counter next to her. “So, what time are you going out tomorrow night?”
She raised an eyebrow at him, then said, “He’s picking me up after work and we’re going out for a late dinner.”
He nodded. “What time are you gonna be home?”
She put the glasses on the counter and put her hands on her hips. “Really, Jon?” she asked dryly.
“Maybe you should have the self-defense class before this date. Because once he realizes you’re not interested in him for that, he might get a little handsy,” he smirked.
“What the fuck, Jon? You don’t think he would go out with me just for me? To get to know me? Do all men really expect sex at the end of the first date?” She was getting worked up again. Maybe Eugene really did want to go out with her to get to know her. It was possible. Stranger things had happened.
“No. I’m sorry.” He exhaled sharply. “Of course he’ll want to get to know the real you. He’s a jerk if he doesn’t. I didn’t mean to imply that wasn’t possible because he would be an idiot not to simply enjoy the evening with you. But you are gorgeous and he’s going to want it, trust me.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. They stood looking at each other, then Jonathan finally spoke.
“I hope he’s a good guy, and I hope you have a good time. Minus the sex.” He smirked then a thought hit him. “What are you going to wear?”
She sighed and put out her hand, palm up. “Gimme your phone.”
He gave her a wary look. “Why?”
“Because I’m gonna text you at the end of the night tomorrow, and this way you’ll know that even in my weakened state I’ve prevailed. Come on, give it to me. I’m putting my number in it.”
He gave it to her, watching her with an amused look. “Seriously. What are you gonna wear?”
“None of your fuckin’ business, Johnny Be Good. Maybe I’ll wear a pair of shorts that barely cover my ass crack and a shirt that’s practically painted on. You don’t need to worry your pretty little self about what I’m gonna wear,” she mumbled, while putting her number in his phone and calling herself so she had his. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” she said, handing him back his phone.
“Don’t get your panties in a wad. I’m just looking out for you.”
Her panties already were in a wad thanks to him. But it was the second comment that stopped her. She looked up at him, and took a cleansing breath. “Thank you. And I appreciate it.” She took in the details of his face noting his lips. She wondered what he would taste like. She wanted to lick him all over. “I’ve never had a guy friend before. Is t
his what I have to expect every time I go out?”
“At least until you find the right guy. One who will respect you and is worthy of you. Everyone deserves that.”
She paused at his word choice. It was so spot on. “Wow, Jon. That was really sweet,” she said, a little startled.
“I have my moments.” He pushed away from the counter. “I’ll get out of your hair.” He walked over to the front door with her following behind.
He put his hand on the doorknob, then turned to her. “Be careful tomorrow. Really.”
She gave him an exasperated look. “I will. I’ll text you after.”
“If you insist,” he sighed.
“Whatever,” she said rolling her eyes. “Now get out of here. I’ve got shit to do.” She waved her hand at him, shooing him out.
He chuckled and opened the door. “Talk to you tomorrow.” He gave her a pointed look then was gone.
She closed the door with a light laugh, already looking forward to the date the next night if for no other reason than to text Johnny Be Good afterwards.
Shit, she swore. Jonathan’s face floated into her mind’s eye. She just remembered she didn’t have any batteries for B.O.B.
It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 4
Fuck a duck.
It was well after 10pm, and Ayanna sat in the bathroom stall of what had to be the worst Italian restaurant in all of Manhattan. Mumbling to herself, she dug through her purse for her phone.
The portion sizes were ridiculous. They charged a fortune for one serving of what looked like an entire box of overcooked pasta on a plate, served with salty marinara sauce and sub-par meatballs. She could’ve made the whole plate for less than four dollars and it would’ve been spectacular. The restaurant charged nearly five times that much.
And Jonathan was right, the rat bastard. Eugene was boring as shit. She needed to get out, and she needed to get out now. Phone finally in hand, she began to text.
AS: R u there? Call me in 5 mins.
While she sat there waiting for a response, she replayed the last agonizing hour of her life. Eugene hadn’t once asked her about herself.
Redemption (Iris Series) Page 4
