Lovin' Blue

by Zuri Day

  “No, man, I’m good.”

  “What about you, sis? You want one of these froo-froo drinks you have in here? What is this . . . colored water?”

  “It’s healthy water, with vitamins and other stuff. And, yes, I’ll take one.”

  “So,” Michael continued when he came back into the living room, “this punk is the one responsible for the break-ins?”

  Jansen shrugged. “Could be, but more than likely there are others.” Jansen thought back to the arrest they’d made the week prior off of La Brea. “It’s probably a burglary ring of eight, ten people. Or even more. You never know.”

  “Gang related?”

  “Maybe.”

  Eden took off her shoes and curled her legs beneath her. “All right already! Enough about crimes, gangs, and negative stuff. I want to hear about your trip, Michael. And this new group you’re managing.”

  As Michael talked and Eden became absorbed in his tales of celebrity, Jansen became absorbed in her . . . remembering the silky feel of her dress and her even softer skin. His eyes traveled from her exposed knees and calves to the dark, thick nipple he now knew resided behind a lacy black bra. These thoughts had been diverted for a minute, but they slammed back into his consciousness with the force of a tsunami. He wanted Eden Anderson more than he’d ever wanted anyone in his life. Nothing was going to tamp down his desire. Not even distance. But right now distance was what he needed to have, or else he’d swoop up Eden like a caveman, throw her over his shoulder, place her soft cheeks into his car, and whisk her to his house so they could finish what they started. He stood abruptly and strode toward the stairs.

  “Whoa, where are you going, dog? I’m just now getting to the good part—the night I hung out with Corinne Bailey Rae.”

  “While some are living the high life, brothah, others have to prepare for a regular J-O-B.” Jansen mounted the stairs. In less than fifteen minutes, he came back down with two garment bags and a medium-sized suitcase.

  “Hey, man. You don’t have to leave tonight. I can sleep in the weight room,” Michael said, rising.

  “You know there’s nothing like your own bed,” Jansen answered. “I may have left a few things, but I’ll stop back through tomorrow.” He looked over at Eden. “Later, weed.” Michael followed Jansen out the door.

  Eden’s heart sank with each step Jansen took away from her. Their conversation grew faint, and Eden wondered if Michael was once again questioning what had happened that evening. Then she heard Jansen’s rumbling laughter and knew that all was well. At least for now. But Eden also knew that nothing would totally be well in her world again until the “weed” Jansen had referred to upon leaving had her petal licked with passion and her flower deeply plucked.

  20

  Every minute, every hour. I’m going to inhale the scent of your flower.

  Fill your heart with my love power in the garden of love.

  Eden turned this way and that, convinced she was dreaming. Who’d Jansen given these lyrics to, and when did they have time to record a song? But then her eyes snapped open, and the pounding bass over which the smooth-sounding singer sang still beat its incessant tune. But for the fact that she knew better, she’d swear the drummer had set up shop in the living room downstairs. And then it all came rushing back to her. Michael was home. And so was his bad habit of playing music at the highest volume possible. She looked at her clock. It was barely nine AM. Some things never change, she thought as she got out of bed. When they were kids, their mother had had to constantly hound him to turn the sound down, often threatening him to within an inch of his life before her order was obeyed. Eden didn’t have the “mama fear factor,” but she was going to give her search for silence the old college try.

  “Turn that down!” she yelled as she stomped down the stairs and over to the stereo. “Dang, Michael. Do you know what time it is?”

  “Yeah, baby, it’s time to come up! This is my band, Eden. They’re the hottest thing happening in London right now. Listen!” He walked over to the stereo and turned up the music to almost as high as it was before. He then danced around the room as he sang along with the chorus: “Fill your heart with my love power in the garden of love.” A rapper’s staccato delivery then cut in about how he was going to take the girl and show her the world, and then more about Bentleys and Hypnotic and other expansive promises delivered at a pace too fast for Eden’s listening ear to absorb. “This is the stuff right here,” Michael exclaimed, bobbing his head to the beat. “You can’t get with this? Girl, this is the next number one!”

  “It’s all right,” Eden conceded. She walked back over to the stereo. “It sounds even better at this decibel level.” Once she’d turned down the volume, she swayed to the beat in exaggerated fashion. “Ooooh, I really like it now,” she said. She danced over to and up the steps.

  After showering and brushing her teeth, Eden returned downstairs. She walked into the kitchen, looked over at the breakfast booth, and was immediately reminded of the cozy moments with Jansen sharing laughter and ice cream. She’d started to call him last night, only to realize that in all the time they’d spent together, they’d never exchanged cell-phone numbers. She fixed a bowl of fresh fruit and wondered if he thought of her as much as she thought of him, if he ached for his touch the way she did for his. And what was up with the song that had awakened her, the song recorded by her brother’s band? The lyrics were so much like Jansen’s words of the previous night it was scary.

  “Who wrote that song?” Eden asked as she entered the living room.

  “Kory, the lead singer,” Michael replied. “The brothah’s from London, that’s how we initially hooked up with the contact over there. And he’s the real deal. After he sang it for me, I told him about you, how we used to call you “little garden” and “weed,” and whatnot. He’s a pretty cool dude, wants to meet you. Although you might be a little old for him. You’re pushing what, forty?”

  “Whatever, fool! Only if you’re forty-three! And I look twenty-three. You’d better recognize.”

  “You look all right.”

  “What’s the name of the band?”

  “Reign—like the dynasty, not water.”

  The two continued to listen as the song played. “He sounds like Usher,” Eden said.

  “Please, Usher wishes he could throw down like Kory. You just heard one song! This dude is bad. He can sound like Prince one minute and Barry White the next. His range is phenomenal.”

  So is Jansen’s tongue. Eden went down memory lane so quick she didn’t even realize it had happened until Michael repeated her name.

  “Eden.”

  “I’m sorry . . . what?”

  “I was saying did you . . . Never mind that. What’s up with you and Jansen?”

  Eden’s fork stopped in midair before she answered nonchalantly, “Nothing.”

  “Didn’t look like nothing last night. I don’t have to remind you about J-Dog, right?”

  “Gosh, Michael. He’s your best friend. If he’s a dog, what does that say about the company you keep?”

  Michael eyed Eden with brotherly concern. “Being a best friend is one thing; being a boyfriend is another. Jansen’s a good man, Eden, has had my back every day of my life. But he’s also got a history and a track record. I’ve seen him in action and . . . I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “A man can change, Michael,” Eden said testily.

  “Wait—y’all fuckin?” Michael’s question came out more like an accusation.

  “Not only was that crass and uncalled for, Michael,” Eden replied with forced calm, “but it’s none of your business.”

  “Well, I guess that’s my answer. And just so you know, anything that affects you is my business.”

  Eden’s heart swelled with love for her brother. He’d been her protector from the time she was born. “No, big brother,” she said, her voice filled with kindness, “it’s not. I know I’ll always be your little sister, but I’m way past grown. I’m a thir
ty-four-year-old divorcee who’s navigated places in relationships I hope you never experience.”

  Michael got up and turned off the music. “I know, sis. Which is why I don’t want you hurt again. You never would open up about Gregg’s punk ass—”

  “Because I never want to have our conversations reduced to only between visiting hours with a sheet of bulletproof glass between us.”

  “Oh, he’s still got an ass whooping coming if I ever see him, trust me on that.”

  “Gregg will get what he has coming to him, Michael, one way or the other. I’ve forgiven him and moved on. I want you to do the same. Anger and unforgiveness are unproductive emotions, Mikey. They take years off your life.”

  “Yeah, well, kicking that nuckah’s ass will add back a few.”

  Eden laughed, and soon Michael joined her. They spent the next two hours catching up on each other’s lives and then another half hour on a call to their mother. After they’d shared a lunch of grilled-cheese sandwiches and fresh tomato soup, one of their childhood favorites, Eden prepared for her yoga class and to run errands afterward. She’d enjoyed the morning with her brother. And had almost forgotten how much she missed Jansen.

  “Here you go,” Michael said as Eden headed to the door. He gave her a copy of his band’s CD, Silent Reign.

  “How’s a band going to call a CD silent?”

  “Not the band, fool—everybody who’s listening. Our reign is so tough it will have the listeners unable to do anything but groove to the beat—spellbound and speechless.”

  Eden didn’t know about all that, but she knew she liked at least one of the CD’s tracks. “I’m proud of you, Mikey,” she said with a hug.

  As she made her way to Santa Monica and the serenity of the yoga studio, Eden put the fifth track, “Garden of Love,” on repeat and listened to it the whole way there. In her mind, Kory’s fateful lyrics mixed with Jansen’s heat-producing promises from the night before: . . . acquaint myself with your lovely petal . . . bury myself the deepest into that flower. Last night, Eden’s feelings about whether or not she wanted to be with Jansen had been mixed. Today her mind was clear. She wanted to be Jansen’s flower garden, and she was ready for him to help her bloom.

  21

  “Oh, my goddess, this is amazing!” Ariel took another bite of her guacamole and cheese burrito—which was actually a raw, vegan concoction made with nut cheese, salsa, and vegetables rolled up in a collard green. She’d been singing the praises of her new, 80 percent raw diet ever since starting it the previous week. It was early evening, and she and Eden had met back up after both ran errands. They were eating at Ariel’s new favorite Santa Monica restaurant, Planet RAW. “How is your burger?”

  “Well . . . I think it would work better for me if they didn’t call it a burger,” Eden honestly answered. At that moment she thought of Jansen and how he’d react to trying something so different. She’d been doing way too much imagining of Jansen trying things—especially those positions he’d described. She forced those thoughts away and refocused on the food in front of her. “Seeing the words bacon western double sets up a certain expectation, even for someone who’s only eaten veggie burgers for the past four years. But for a dish made solely with nuts, grains, and vegetables, it is a respectable nod to its namesake.” Eden took another bite of the burger, topped with macadamia-nut cheese, heirloom ketchup, and fig mustard. “You know, Ariel, the more I eat it, the more I like it. It’s different, but good.”

  “That’s exactly what happened to me. When Travis—oops!” Ariel’s face turned red, even as her green eyes sparkled.

  “Oh, no—too late! Who’s this man that has you as red as a beet?”

  “He’s just . . . the guy who told me about this place,” Ariel said, trying without success to regain her composure.

  “Uh-huh,” Eden answered. She crossed her arms while leaning back in her chair.

  “Okay, he’s just the most gorgeous, most amazing man I’ve ever met in my life,” Ariel gushed. “But I wasn’t going to mention him to anyone. It’s all so new and magical—I don’t want to jinx it.”

  “Then my lips are sealed.”

  “Thanks, Eden.”

  “So if you weren’t going to mention the guy we won’t mention to me, then what is the good news you said you’d share later?”

  Ariel clapped her hands together. “I got a job!”

  “That’s great, Ariel!” Looking for employment was another thing in common Eden and Ariel had shared when they met. “From the look on your face, it’s obviously one you wanted.”

  “Absolutely. I’m going to be working at a new healing center in Venice—the Zen Den—with an absolutely fabulous shaman.”

  “Shaman?” For the most part, Eden embraced the new-age lifestyle, but some things were still a bit much for this ex-government worker.

  “Yes! He’s a fifth-generation healer, and he’s so amazing. His name is Om. He combines his natural gift of spirit communication with energy healing. He’s a master, and I get to be his assistant!” Ariel drained her bottle of Kombucha, a fermented drink for which Eden hadn’t developed a taste. Ariel drank it like an ambrosia. “And the Zen Den?” she continued. “Oh, my goddess, Eden. It’s filled with gorgeous green plants and serenity fountains. There’s a meditation garden behind the facility, along with a labyrinth and a sweat lodge.”

  Sweat lodge? “Okay, girl, you’ve lost me now.”

  Ariel placed a hand on Eden’s arm. “Trust me, Eden. It’s exactly where you need to be.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes! That’s part of the good news I want to share with you. I think they have a position with your name written all over it.”

  Eden raised her brows but remained quiet. So far she couldn’t see herself anywhere near the Zen Den.

  “I don’t officially start until next week, but I’ve gone every day since being hired and, Eden, there is something special about that place. When I learned that they are looking for a managing director to run the facility, I immediately thought of you.”

  “I don’t know, Ariel.”

  “Why? With your organizational skills and attention to detail, you’d be perfect!”

  “Yes, administrative management is a strong suit of mine, but, quite frankly, it sounds like this may be a little too different from the world I left. I’m thinking more like working in a yoga studio or one of the alternative-medicine facilities here in Santa Monica. I’ve even thought about a job at Whole Foods.”

  “Uh, earth to Eden, come in, please! The Zen Den is the epitome of a holistic center and more! We’re offering every modality imaginable to balance and heal one’s mind, body, and spirit.”

  There’s no denying your passion, little sistah. Nor had Eden missed the possessive “we” with which Ariel aligned herself to the center.

  Ariel continued, counting on her fingers. “There’s yoga, pilates, acupuncture, reiki, and other forms of energy healing. There’s a western-trained medical doctor on staff who’s spent the last ten years in China and India practicing alternative medicine, an herbalist who’s a master of Chinese medicine, plus several practitioners trained in a variety of spiritual healing. I have a very strong feeling about this, Eden. This is where you’re supposed to be.” When Eden remained silent, Ariel decided she’d pressed enough for now. “So, Eden . . . how’s your roommate?”

  Eden looked up to see Ariel’s sparkling green eyes boring into hers. The knowing look on her face dared Eden to try to act as though she didn’t know to whom Ariel was referring. She resisted the urge to fidget, instead returning Ariel’s intense gaze, sans the devilish smirk. “Jansen? He’s fine, but he’s no longer my roommate. My brother arrived back from Europe last night, and Jansen went back to his place.”

  “Ah, so that explains the energy I was picking up from you earlier during yoga. I noticed how quiet you were when you came in. I had a feeling you were thinking about your guy, but—”

  “Jansen’s not my guy—”

  Ed
en was interrupted by the sound of Ariel’s tinkling laughter. “You are so funny, Eden! No, please, let’s not do this.” Ariel sobered for a moment. “Whatever we share stays strictly between us. As an intuitive, I often know more about people’s lives than what they’re comfortable with. You and Jansen were together in a past life, and you’re destined to be together again. The less you both fight it, the more beneficial the partnership will be for both of you.” Ariel paused, gauged Eden’s reaction, and saw that she definitely had her friend’s attention. “If you’d like more detailed information, I can perform a tarot reading for you.”

  “No, thanks, Ariel,” Eden responded, thinking that the only taro she was comfortable hanging out with was the root vegetable used in her casserole dish. “I don’t need any cards to tell me what’s up. I already know.” She took a sip of water and continued. “You’re right, I’m attracted to Jansen, and the feeling is mutual. We went on our first official date last night.”

  “That’s exciting!” Ariel exclaimed. And then, in a lower voice, “How was it?”

  “What, the food? Oh, it was good.”

  “Ha! Yeah, I bet. So how was dessert?”

  “You know what, Ariel Sun, no one should let your airy demeanor fool them. When it comes to getting information, you’re like a pit bull! I should tell you, however, that I’m equally as determined to keep my business to myself.” Eden’s smile dissipated the sharpness of her words.

  “Sure thing, Eden. But I bet that’s not what you told Jansen last night!”

  “Girl, let me get out of here. I’m moving on Wednesday and still want to hit a few stores before they close.”

  “Okay, but promise me you’ll visit the Zen Den this week. I want you to meet Om, maybe have him do some energy work on you, balance your chi.”

  “I promise I’ll visit the facility. We’ll see about . . . anything else once I get there.”