by Belvin, Love
“Here. Take this number and call. This is a realtor friend of mine.” Pulling a business card from his wallet his voice was authoritative, succinct. “He’s good. I’ll tell him to expect your call and to treat you like a friend…of mine, of course.” His eyes were fastened to mine communicating something luminous. “You can give him a ring after you call me.” His voice was crisp and commanding, I felt slightly intimidated as he pulled a pen from his inner suit jacket pocket and wrote on a napkin. He pushed it over to me with those long fingers.
“Thanks.” I took the napkin he’d scribbled the contact information on and began gathering my things. I was over my allotted time. “Now, I know you’re a busy man, so I’ll be on my way. Thanks for the contact. I’ll give…” I glanced at the business card. “…Mr. Scott a call using you as a reference. But as far as your old-school cacography on a napkin, if you’re really interested—work for it,” I challenged him as I finished collecting my belongings to leave.
I noticed from my periphery that Azmir pulled out that gold pocket watch to assess the time and pointedly gazed at my scurry. The watch was only a tad less intimidating since the first time I’d seen it, but nonetheless entrancing.
As I got up from the table and turned to walk away, I heard him mutter, “eight ten to five fifteen.”
Halting my stride, I turned to him. “Excuse me?”
“Your typical work hours. Eight ten to five fifteen. Sometimes, you stay until seven but you never go past eight, at least not to date.”
I studied his features as he returned the pocket watch into his jacket, amazed by his knowledge of my work hours, not knowing if I should be afraid or awed.
“Those types of hours make for a dull Ms. Brimm…” Azmir’s head cocked to the side with his tongue pushed into his molars and a salacious smile formed across his face. “…but we’ll do something about that.” Azmir’s eyes flickered with promise.
There was a hum in his voice, a longing, that made me smile and my belly flutter. For some reason I didn’t think it was intended for my entertainment but more of a declaration.
“I will see you Ms. Brimm,” Azmir yelled out in a more formal tone as I walked away.
“…and you, Mr. Jacobs,” I replied headed towards the door.
As I was preparing to leave that afternoon around five that evening, I worked my way up to the receptionist desk to talk to Sharon and give my goodbyes. I was happy that I was able to bring her aboard my team in the LBC. I’d always enjoyed working with her in the past and was constantly impressed by her competence and professionalism. We’d never become personal friends but professionally we meshed very well.
While we were chatting about the following day’s schedule, a delivery personnel walked in with a beautiful bouquet of pink tulips and mini calla lilies.
The deliveryman crossed the foyer, “A Ms. Brimm, please…”
“In the flesh…” Sharon responded directing him to me.
He smiled while Sharon took the clipboard to sign for them.
“Ohhhh, Ms. Brimm! Who are they from? If you don’t mind me asking,” Sharon spoke in one breath with wide eyes like a high school cheerleader.
She had to tell me the type of flowers they were, I’d never been a flower type of girl but the arrangement was breathtaking.
“I’m not sure.” I anxiously searched the box for a correspondence. Once located, I opened it and immediately recognized the handwriting when I read,
I’m on the hunt, Ms. Brimm.
Thursday night right after work. Dinner.
See you then.
A.D. Jacobs.
My heart nearly leaped from my chest and I stopped breathing. He wasn’t leaving an opportunity for me to turn him down. Damn.
After clearing my throat, mustering my wits, I said, “Well…goodnight, Sharon. I’ll see you in the morning,” and walked out.
Thursday came and I was nervous as hell. I got up that morning and hit the treadmill like always. This particular morning I did an extra half hour; I’d gotten this burst of energy out of nowhere. I hadn’t been out on a real date in so long; I had to ask Michelle to help me remember. We spent almost a half hour trying to recall.
It was January so I put on a grey two-piece suit. The pencil mini showed the contour of my shape so perfectly. I’d gotten my hair done the previous night in an up do. I figured for work I’d wear small, conservative earrings but for dinner, I would wear a pair of hoops for a more casual look. All day I had an extra pep in my step. I wanted to share my excitement with Sharon but decided to not only keep it to myself just in case it went horribly wrong, but also to keep it professional; I didn’t want to compromise that with my subordinates.
I got a page at about three p.m. from Sharon, informing me that a Mr. Jacobs was on line two. I tensed up when I heard her say his name because I didn’t want the fact of him calling to be the subject of lunch time chatter among the staff but I soon realized she didn’t know who Azmir was by name.
“Good afternoon, Rayna Brimm speaking,” I greeted.
“Ms. Brimm, I’ll be there to pick you up at five p.m. Please don’t tell me you have plans to work late…” Azmir’s metropolitan twang reared and suddenly currents of excitement zapped through my body. It was my first time experiencing his husky voice over the phone.
I wonder where he’s from…
“Well, according to my warrant the time was very rigid. I was about to see my last patient. I should be done a little after four p.m. Is that too much of a chase for your hunt?” I teased.
“No. That just leaves more time for me. I’ll see you soon.” And with that we ended our conversation.
All I could think of were the possibilities. And all I kept telling myself was to calm down and take it easy, after a couple of hours with him the charm would dissipate along with my controlled sense of hope. He encountered you for the first time dancing…half-naked. His expectations go no further than seeing if your exhibitions are as flexible as your limbs. As much as I didn’t want to relent to my pessimistic heeding, I had to protect myself at all cost.
When four p.m. rolled around, I was wrapping up with my patient. I’d planned to be done a lot sooner so that I could freshen up but Mrs. Chapman wasn’t having it. She wanted to talk my head off between each stretching technique. After leaving the spa room, I headed to my office, locked the door and retreated into the bathroom. On a mission, I washed up, changed my shirt, applied a little make up, and sprayed myself down with body spray and perfume…but not too much. Lastly, I switched my earrings.
As I was walking out to clear off my desk, Sharon paged me telling me that a Mr. Jacobs wanted to come back. I thought to myself, “What the hell?” I told her to send him back and then remembered my door was closed and locked. In a dash, I unlocked and opened the door, after which I went back to my desk to clear it for the day.
A few seconds later, I heard “knock-knock”.
“Ms. Brimm, Mr. Jacobs is here to see you,” Sharon announced from the door.
When I looked up and saw Azmir, I did a double take. His Adonis took my breath away at first glance. He wore dark designer jeans—I knew they were designer because the quality was premium—with it, a black turtleneck sweater under a grey blazer with elbow patches and crisp white classic shell-toe Adidas.
Shit…he dresses better than I do or at least as well!
There was a hidden smirk on his face. I couldn’t read it but it looked damn good on him. When his scent invaded my nostrils, those currents had returned.
“Thanks, Sharon,” I said dismissing her. She would’ve stayed until she thought of a reason to stay longer.
“Casual to say we’re going out right after work,” I said with my back turned to him.
“What are you implying? I didn’t work today?” I turned to him to catch his grin widened.
“Did you, Mr. CEO?”
“Yes, but not next door. Are you ready or must I give you the details of my day before you agree to leave with me?” I rolled
my eyes at him trying to conceal my blush. He winked his eye at me. Snickering, I grabbed my things and we left.
Getting into his car was odd to say the least. I felt like royalty. When we walked out of the building, his driver opened the door to let us into a Bentley that was an unusual shade of brown. It was gorgeous! I’d never been in a Bentley in my life. Once inside, I saw the almond leather interior trimmed with walnut wood. The smell of the leather took me to another place. There was light music flowing, inducing a very relaxed and reposeful atmosphere that was appropriate after a long workday. The car matched Azmir’s elegance.
We were barely out of the parking lot when Azmir’s phone rang and he took the call. I could tell it was business related. He was on for a few minutes before telling the person on the other line he had to go. I found this considerate. The last thing I wanted was a man reminding me of how busy he is professionally by being on the phone for most of our time together.
On the way to the restaurant we chatted a bit but in measured quantity. I couldn’t fight the gripping amount of intimidation I felt when in his presence but fought like hell not to make him aware of it. He attempted humor that made me laugh. I could tell he was trying to get me to lower my guards and it helped just a bit. I had hoped I didn’t give him the impression that I was uptight. Somewhere during our commute my phone rang. It was Michelle and I knew she was just checking up on me, making sure I was okay. I answered to assure her and got right off.
Azmir must have noticed me staring pensively out of the window.
“You okay?” he asked pointedly.
“Where are we?”
“In Beverly Hills,” he scoffed suggesting I should’ve known.
I chuckled, “I’m embarrassed to say this, but I’ve never been to this side of Beverly Hills.”
“You’re kidding me?” Azmir’s face was filled with incredulity.
Shaking my head I answered, “No. Really. We have a branch here but I’ve been so wrapped up in school and work since I’ve been on the West Coast that I never ventured out to explore the lay of the land.”
His lips twisted into a smile and I could tell he’d been hit with a revelation. “So you haven’t had the tourist excursion yet, huhn.” It wasn’t a question, more like an acknowledgement of a problem.
I snickered, slightly embarrassed as I continued to look around at the lights and high-end designer marquees. I could feel him gaping at me, but was too fascinated with the view to confront him about it.
We arrived at Ruth’s Chris in Beverly Hills. The hour ride went so fast. It should’ve been half that but L.A. traffic is a monster.
After giving the waiter our order Azmir asked, “So where are you from, Ms. Brimm? Tell me a little about yourself.”
“You and this “Ms. Brimm” thing. What’s up with that?” I asked while giggling, happy to traverse the conversation. I was good at that.
He flashed that coochie creaming smile but hid his teeth much to my disappointment. I relished his full smile, but his smirk or grin would do just as well. “Because it fits you. Now tell me. I want to know all about you.” Azmir was clearly flirting again.
“Well, what do you wanna know? Be specific.”
“Where are you from? How old are you? Do you have any children? Are you dating anyone? What do you like to do in your spare time? You know…‘Getting to know you 101’.”
I started answering as best as my trust would allow. “I went to school in North Carolina and got my undergrad degree in Sports Medicine, after which I immediately moved to California and started PT school. I finished the PT program recently and you know what I do for a living. I’m twenty-six years old, have no children and I’m not dating anyone to speak of. Satisfied?” I had to leave open the possibility of there being someone in the picture even if slightly embellishing. I’m no lost cause!
“Damn. That seemed painful. Can I have the waiter get you some aspirin?” He gave a rueful smile in jest causing me to laugh.
“Well, tell me something about you. I want to know everything, too,” I murmured noncommittally.
“I’ve been out here in California for almost sixteen years. I was born in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn—”
“New York?!” I interrupted. I knew I’d heard urban enunciation in his speech. A Brooklynite, hmmmm…
He continued, “Yup, until I was about fourteen. I moved out here with a family-friend and this has been home ever since. You may know that I have a few businesses around the way. I’m always looking for the next money-making opportunity.”
“I would ask if you have a girlfriend but seeing that you asked me out I wouldn’t insult you with a silly question such as that one.” I was testing the waters. Please, God, no! I continued, “But do you have any children? And how old are you?”
“No children yet, just a handful of godchildren and extended nieces and nephews. I’m thirty-six years old. You wanna see my birth certificate, young buck?”
I rolled my eyes bashfully. Azmir made me nervous and I didn’t know if it was in a good or bad way.
Over dinner we talked, joked and filtered unpalatable discourse, avoiding touchy topics. I had two glasses of red wine and was feeling relaxed. I could’ve gone for a third but remembered my limit. Two was probably too much, but I started feeling a tad comfortable around this man. He was a little complex, though. On the one hand, he was the business mogul, on the other, he was a street-wise thug and somewhere in between he was a warm and charming gentleman. He seemed confident and unguarded and wasn’t afraid to tell jokes even if they were at his expense. He made wise cracks about me that not only made me laugh but delighted me as well.
Azmir’s sense of humor was of an acquired taste, it was peculiar. He didn’t find the amusing things he said nearly as comical as I did, but he knew that I would. He smiled coolly, very reserved; chuckling here and there but never gave a gut-felt laughter like mine. I wrote it off as charm. But more notable was how closely he observed me. He studied my movements and my eyes. He was intense. Nothing like anyone I’d ever met.
When we were done eating, after giving me the most tentative glare, he pulled out his gold antique pocket watch from his jacket to check the time. He then asked if I was tired. I told him no and he asked if I wanted to go to see a basketball game. I said yes without reservation and we road over to the Staples Center. When we arrived, we parked damn near inside the place. I could tell he was a frequent visitor.
We entered through a private entrance and virtually walked right into the arena. He led me to the third row. The game was at the top of the third quarter. I was so amazed by the amount of people in one place. I’d never been to a professional basketball game. I could tell Azmir loved the game; he was so into it. I was familiar with the sport and kept my eyes glued to the ball. I liked watching how the players skillfully handled it; I wanted to see their techniques. But what was more intriguing was the lofty caliber of celebrities that were all around us. I was familiar with quite a few and mused at how they all appeared slimmer in person. Michelle would have lost her mind in there. She’s going to be so pissed that I didn’t take any pictures. Oh, well. There was no way in hell I was going to embarrass myself on this date by gushing over people who deserved the same privacy that I did. By the end of the quarter Azmir asked, “Do you follow the game?”
“Yeah. I know a little something about basketball. Do you come often?”
“Yes,” Distracted, he answered as he looked on the floor. He noticed someone trying to get his attention. It was Kobe Bryant! He pointed to the floor seats and then raised both his hands gesturing, I deduced he was asking why wasn’t Azmir down there. Azmir smiled, pointed toward me, and shrugged his shoulders. Kobe gestured for him to come down to talk. Azmir asked if I would mind. I said, “Oh, not at all. Go.”
He excused himself and went down. They greeted each other with a masculine hug and chatted. The way that they laughed and joked around I could tell they were well acquainted. Who is this man, Azmir Jacobs?! I asked myse
lf. I grew even more intimidated. I tried to calm my anxieties by reminding myself there’s no man too good for me. Boy, was he making it hard to believe.
Azmir climbed back up the steps, I watched his long strides trying not to ogle too closely. “You got me looking like a sucker.”
“How’s that?” I asked.
“Everybody knows where I sit when my Lakers are playing. Trying to be considerate and not sit you on floor is now getting me clowned.”
“Why didn’t we just sit in your designated seats? I’m a big girl.”
“Wellllll…” he sighed “I didn’t know if you’d really like the game so much that you wanted to be on the floor. I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“Well, next time you’ll know not to underestimate me.” I nudged him.
“Oh, so there will be a next time?” he asked with a Kool-Aid smile. His gorgeous teeth couldn’t be ignored. I felt my sex clench instinctively.
“Hmmmm…maybe if you ask and secondly if you stop being so chauvinistic.”
“Oh, it’s like that? Okay,” he chuckled.
My phone rang and I took the call. I could see him in my peripheral gaping at me while I spoke. When I hung up I asked, “How’s the view?”
“What view?” he asked confused with furrowed brows.
“The one of me. You were staring.”
He chuckled, embarrassed by my calling him out, warming my heart. “Actually, I was zoomed into the phone. I’m surprised a woman who runs a physical therapist office doesn’t have a more sophisticated and technologically advance device like an iPhone, Blackberry…a smart phone of any kind.”
I scoffed. “I’m only a PT not a surgeon. I get what I can afford.”
“You just seem like a classier type of woman, that’s all.” He took my cell from my hand and started examining it like it was worthless trash.
We continued to watch the game until the end and left. The tasteful conversation continued all the way to the office where my car was waiting. We pulled next to it, which looked like a hooptie compared to his grand Bentley. Well, it actually was a hooptie. His driver, Ray, stepped out of the car, I later realized to give us privacy.
