by Belvin, Love
“Damn, that it? I thought you owed him a lung, ovary, or some shit,” I tried to lighten the moment for her sake. “What…he’s a gyno?” I continued trying to game her to find out how I could locate him. I recalled Paul mentioning he was a Pediatrician.
“…a Ped,” she answered lowly.
“Where…in Santa Barbara at the Neverland Ranch?” I continued to probe.
She giggled and softly said, “Nooooo…Venice Beach.”
We chatted a little more before it grew chilly and she wanted to go inside and take a shower. As she showered, I sat on the couch listening to music pouring from her stereo while addressing a few e-mails and texts. I relished being out of reach. On her promenade back into the living room, she was wearing a short, peach colored, silk robe. Her thighs looked juicy as hell. She sat next to me and asked was I okay.
“Sure,” I answered.
“Good. My head is throbbing a little,” she muttered, rubbing her temples.
“That’s my cue. Are you going to be okay? I think you’ve had a bit much to drink.”
She looked up at me with those big brown eyes and made a plea.
“Yes, Azmir, I had more to drink tonight than I’ve had since my sophomore year in undergrad. I can’t handle liquor and I know I’m going to regret this in the morning, but right now, what I need is for you to hold me. Is that okay with you?” she asked so sincerely. I nodded and with that, she moved closer and laid her head on my shoulder with her legs curled underneath.
“Ms. Brimm, I hate to disturb you but you need to combat that hangover that’s awaiting you. You mind if I go get you a few things to help you out?”
She nodded solemnly and I got her a tall glass of water with a couple of Excedrin. When I got back, she cleared the pillows off the couch to make room.
We talked for almost an hour before falling asleep. I remember looking at my watch and it reading two twenty-seven a.m. The last significant conversation I recall is of her pops leaving her family to survive in the projects. She spoke of how empty she had felt because he had been such a force in their home. It made me think about my own father and what life would have been like had he still been alive. Then I recalled how Mark wrote a piece on the missing black father and submitted it to a prestigious professional journal. It was profound. I never told him how much it resonated with me. I guess Ms. Brimm here was a fellow victim.
I woke and looked at my watch that read five fifteen a.m. This is my usual wake up time no matter how long I’ve slept. But my body wasn’t in agreement. I rubbed my eyes and looked down at Rayna who lay across my waist. She looked so peaceful sleeping. My mind started rolodexing the many conversations we had before falling asleep. Rayna didn’t appear to be that ironclad, high class, got-it-all, woman that she presents. Actually, I was kind of feeling her being exposed. I felt a sense of protection over her. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself but I wanted to help her out. I wasn’t trying to play the “Pretty Woman” role here…but it didn’t feel right knowing that dude was harassing her for pennies that I could sneeze at. I questioned my motive. How would I look doing this for someone who wasn’t my woman? Do I want her to be my woman? What is having a woman?
I never thought what Tara and I had was an official, adult, mutually-giving relationship. It was just some shit I got caught up in and played out until I couldn’t anymore. My thoughts of evolution kicked backed in. I hated when that happened because it was such a nervous feeling when I felt pressure in my skull and my breathing pattern changed. I didn’t want to die rich with no one to love. I think I wanted to know what love was and felt like.
I wanted to be Taye Diggs in Best Man when he yelled back at Sanaa Lathan, “I need you!” Damn. That shit always got me because I could tell that man was in pain. Secretly, I’ve wanted to feel for a woman enough to display such raw emotion. I mean, it was something that I sure as hell never had. It was far beyond pussy. I’ve had great pussy. I mean, the type of pussy that made me drop some cash on a shopping spree or a cruise to the Caribbean. But nothing that invoked any type of strong emotion such as love. Shit, even Petey busted out the windows of his old lady’s brand new Acura when she came home in the wee hours of the morning after being out with the girls. That was some shit I’ve seen men do but I had never summons the feelings to give a fuck. I often wondered was there something wrong with me? Was I not wired correctly in utero? I was told that I just hadn’t come across the right woman.
I reached for my phones to see what I’d missed. After checking stocks, news, and texts I gently moved Rayna off of me and fully onto the couch. I went into the bathroom to take a leak and make a few phone calls. I wasn’t confident about how she would fare after the amount of drinking she said she did the night before so I called my chef and asked him to report to Rayna’s instead of my place. I gave him a list of items to bring because I didn’t know what she had there and refused to go rummaging through her refrigerator and cabinets to find out. It was enough that I was inviting a total stranger to her house.
Next, I called Brett and gave him a few marching orders that consisted of pushing back my morning appointments until the afternoon and looking up Dr. Sebastian Adams, practicing in Venice Beach. After speaking with him for a minute, I returned to the couch with Rayna who was still out.
~~~~~~~~~~
Rayna
I woke up to clinging sounds in my kitchen. I almost freaked out until I remembered Azmir being over last night…or this morning. I got up and slowly strode into the kitchen where I found a burly man with a white jacket, striped pants, and a huge white chef hat over my stove. He definitely didn’t match Azmir’s physique. I instantly realized that I was indisposed.
“Ummmm…who are you?” I asked pointedly.
Unalarmed, the man answered, “Good morning, Ms. Brimm. I was told you might be caught off guard. My name is Chef Boyd. I am Mr. Jacobs’ personal cook. We actually met when I was auditioning a week ago. I brought a sample to your office…?” he continued.
After a few seconds, I did recall a chef. I was so thrown off by his presence because I didn’t actually meet him when the meal was delivered and set up at my office and therefore I didn’t recognize him. “I’m sorry…?” I stumbled at his name.
“…Chef Boyd,” he reminded me.
“Yes. Chef Boyd. I do recall now. Ummmm…where’s Mr. Jacobs?” I asked tentatively.
“Uhh…right behind you, ma’am.” Boyd gave a slight chuckle before turning his attention back toward the stove.
I turned around to find Azmir towering over me in my own kitchen. He didn’t wear his usual bright smile. Instead his head was cocked to the side with his eyes squinted as to examine me. He was still sexy as all get out. My mind tried to connect to my body and his valiant presence jolted the process. I looked up at him in somewhat of a daze.
“Good morning,” he greeted before reaching down and kissing my forehead. I felt a heat wave rush through my body.
“Good morning,” I replied as I breathed him all in.
“How are you feeling?” There was the arrestingly sexy grin.
“Ummm…I’ve seen better mornings. What time is it?” I asked groggily.
“It’s about nine thirty…and I’m sure you’re wondering why my chef is here in your private kitchen…but in anticipation of your current condition, I asked him to report here instead of my place to cook you up some breakfast and lunch. What do you have a taste for, if anything? My recommendation is crepes but he’s known for wicked blueberry pancakes and waffles.” Azmir somehow made it all sound so sexy without effort.
I was bewildered. I couldn’t grasp the moment but managed, “Crepes will be just fine. Thanks.”
Azmir looked over to Boyd and said, “Crepes for the morning sexy. Maybe with a fruit topping and the chef’s specialty sides. And for me, I’ll have two over easy, spinach and turkey bacon.”
“Order’s in, Mr. Jacobs!” Boyd trilled.
“Thanks, again,” I muttered. “I’ll just go freshen up, i
f you don’t mind.”
As I turned to walk towards the back of the house to make my way to the bathroom Azmir murmured, “I’ll take you as is,” with a seductive gaze. I couldn’t help but to blush.
About twenty minutes later, we were at my kitchen table. Chef Boyd served me first by placing a plate before me with three folded crepes filled with cream cheese and topped with some sort of blueberry sauce, scrambled eggs with a diced tomato sauté. Next to my plate was a glass of pomegranate juice. I can’t say that this was my normal breakfast order but my stomach wasn’t corroborating my claim.
For Azmir, the chef served eggs fried hard, sunny side up, four slices of crispy turkey bacon, fresh sautéed spinach, and two pieces of wheat toast cut into triangles. He decorated both our plates for professional presentation. Mine had some type of green leaves in the corner while Azmir’s had sliced oranges. To say that the food was delicious was an understatement. I didn’t think anyone who fried an egg without burning it could be out done but this man had it down to a science. The surf and turf lunch was unsurprisingly good because it’s not on your average household menu but this breakfast gave me a conscious about ever attempting breakfast for Azmir!
“Have you decided on lunch, Ms. Brimm?” Boyd asked.
“Lunch?” I replied puzzled.
“I thought it would be a good idea for Boyd to whip up something for lunch…just to leave less for you to have to do,” Azmir cautiously interjected.
“Oh, wow. I don’t know. Azmir, you’re doing entirely too much,” I scolded but tried using some level of decorum.
“It’s no big deal. This is a part of Chef Boyd’s contractual agreement. With my schedule today, his services would have gone to waste. You’re doing me a favor…really,” he insisted.
Everyone paused and the kitchen grew silent as all eyes fell upon me. I didn’t feel easy about this at all but I was too embarrassed to continue to turn down his offer. I was in an unusual place with this. Why all of this for me? He didn’t even try to sleep with me last night. Is he going to try later on? What were his ulterior motives?
In that instance, I heard Michelle’s voice in my head saying, “You alone are worthy of love”.
With that thought in mind I forced an amenable sheepish smile and said, “What’s today’s special, Chef Boyd?”
“Well, between what I have with me and what you have in the ‘fridge, I can put together a delectable lasagna,” the Chef declared.
I gave Azmir a once over. He looked as if he was awaiting an answer as well. “Lasagna it is!” I tried not to sound so contrived.
After breakfast, Azmir announced that he had to leave. Less than an hour later, he was gone and so was Chef Boyd with detailed instructions on taking out the lasagna. It was a good thing I called out of work. There was no way I could go in like this. I sat down at my desk in my home office and thought of ways I could get myself out of this debt with Sebastian. After calling Michelle and running the quandary past her, all she could offer was to try to apply for a small loan. She even offered up seven grand of Erin’s college fund to get him off my back.
“I’d cut his dick off before taking from my baby!” I spat.
“Well, the main objective should be to get that scum out of your life for good. The offer’s there if you change your mind,” she proposed.
“NEVER!” was all I could think.
Later that evening, after coming up with absolutely nothing, I realized how hungry I was. My thoughts turned to the lasagna with my name on it in the kitchen. I went in, cut a humongous piece, and downed it with some of the leftover pomegranate juice from the morning. My thoughts turned to Azmir. How nice it was of him to take care of me like he did. He didn’t try to take advantage of me at all. I had to admit to myself it felt damn good to have a man’s-man wrap his arms around you and shower you with attention and care. I reached for my phone and began typing.
How can I ever repay you for your generosity? A girl can get used to this, ya’ know!
He replied seconds later.A girl can get used to it and not earn it but a woman commands it and gives back. You commanded it. No sweat! How was the lasagna?
Scrumptious! No, really. How can I settle up?
Trust…I’ll think of something.
If you don’t mind me asking, where’s the busy man? Are you out saving another piteous woman in distress? I was curious.
LMAO! No, I’m out doing business in Thousand Oaks.
Oh, I’m sorry to disturb you! I hope you’re not in a meeting. I’ll let you go… I entered embarrassingly. I didn’t want to get too comfortable with his time.
No disturbance at all. I am in a “meeting” but at Sunset Hill Country Club on the golf course with a bunch of stiffs. You’re actually a pleasant interruption.
Okay. Nonetheless…you go and continue. I’m sure you’ll get back to me with a few ideas as they come to mind. My best.
Indeed.
After his last text, the gloom of my reality with Sebastian overcame me again. I fought with it until I fell restlessly asleep.
The next morning, I was finishing up with my patient, an eighty-three-year-old recreational tennis player, who injured her hamstring.
“My, Ms. Brimm, you seem awfully cheery this morning. It’s quite pleasant. Have you hit the lottery?” she spoke in jest.
Little did she know about the recent stressors that I’d been successful at pushing in the recesses of my mind.
“Oh, I wish. It being a new day is as good a reason as any to be happy for me. But I’ll take that lottery right about now. What do ya’ say—about a cool million?” We giggled.
I was wrapping up her visit when I got a page from Sharon that I had a call on line three. Now, Sharon knew not to bother me with a phone call unless it appeared urgent. What could be the emergency?
I flew down the corridor to my office instead of the next patient room. I picked up the line, “Rayna Brimm. How may I assist you?”
“How were you able to pull this one off? If repaying me, and with this much interest, was this easy what took you so long?” a familiar voice, that was eventually identified as Sebastian, bawled.
“What in the hell are you talking about?” I rustled, bemused by his questions and offended by his tone.
“Let’s not play games as if your guardian angel mysteriously sent me a cashier’s check in the amount of fifteen grand! That’s a fifty percent interest rate! Do you hate me that much, Rayna?”
It took me a minute to figure out what was going on. Was he saying I paid him back the loan with fifty percent interest? How could this be? Who would have that kind of money? Immediately the answer came—AZMIR! What in the hell did I say to him that would compel him to do this?
“Silence? Nice, Rayna! It makes me believe you laid on your back to get this money!” Sebastian fired off.
“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to…you goddamn prick! Did you forget that I am a damn working professional? Why are you asking me questions anyway? Just be happy you have your money and move on before I say something that isn’t befitting of the workplace. Capiche?” and I slammed the phone in his ear.
I lost control of my breath, my heart began to pound, and my head spun. My hands trembled as I tried to wipe frustration from my face. I felt like my privacy and self-respect had been breached. In some ways, Sebastian was right; I had lain down to pay him back. If I’d never fucked Azmir, he would not have been so inclined to pay my debt. The trip and luggage was one thing; it was a part of the chase. The car was a loaner, but secretly paying off debt is totally different. I was nobody’s charity case!
I immediately called Azmir’s cell but got no answer. I then called his office. Old Nasty Peg said he was in a meeting that would be ending soon but he’d be going right into another. I hung up in her ear and headed straight over to the rec. I had the answer I was looking for, which was that he was next door. Damn a meeting or a schedule…just let me know where he is!
I entered the rec building without s
igning in. The receptionist working the front door this day recognized me from previous visits. She also knew I had an office in one of the suites. As the elevator ascended, I felt like I couldn’t get to the top floor fast enough. It so happened that as I was stepping out of the elevator and heading towards his office, I saw Azmir and his team walking towards me. At about five or so yards apart, we locked eyes simultaneously. I continued storming right at him.
In my approach, I could hear him say, “People, I’ll meet you downstairs. I need a minute to take care of something.” All without taking his quizzical gaze from mine. With that, his handlers continued toward the elevators.
He stood waiting for me with his eyes still glued to mine. “Is everything okay?” he murmured.
“Who in the hell do you think you are? No. I withdraw. Who in the hell do you take me for…a goddamn charity case?” I screeched in fury as I halted my charge square in front of him, my head leveling between his clavicle bones.
People, alarmed by the commotion, turned their attention to us. The only reason I noticed was because of the abrupt halts in my peripheral view. I could not give a damn. Azmir grabbed my upper arm and pushed me into an adjacent room that was to the right of where I’d stopped. I could tell he wasn’t happy with my outburst. He closed the door behind him and gritted through his teeth, “What’s the problem?” He perched himself on the edge of a small conference table in the damn near 8x8 sized room.
“The problem is nobody asked for you to save the day by minding my business! How did you know what was going on between Sebastian and me anyway?” As soon as those words left my mouth, the answer came to mind. Turning a seething glower onto him I whispered, “What in the hell did I say to you the other night? You took advantage of my drunken condition. What in the hell else did you take?” The acerbity in my tone was deliberate.
“Hold up. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. I think you know I don’t need to manipulate my way into getting ass. And if you are referring to the money I sent over to Dr. Adams on your behalf, I simply thought I was doing a favor for a friend,” he said calmly yet firm. And sexy…this man oozed sex. Azmir shook his head apparently exasperated. “Rayna, you did divulge personal information that night while drunk but I didn’t exactly consider myself a stranger or an uninvited party. If that were the case you would have made that clear the morning after when I had my chef over preparing you meals as a means of taking care of you,” he said sharply.
