by E. N. Joy
“Dinner is cold, so I figured we’d skip to dessert, which is hot.”
Deborah walked toward Lynox, sliding out of her nightgown along the way. “I don’t see nothing wrong with a little dessert before dinner, do you?”
Lynox looked his wife up and down while licking his lips. “Sometimes you just wanna get right to the good stuff, and I know for a fact your stuff is good.”
Deborah play punched her husband while she blushed.
Lynox held Deborah by her face. All Deborah could see in his eyes was a genuine love for her. She didn’t even feel worthy to be loved. She’d married this man, knowing all the while that there was a chance that even though he brought out the best in her, she could be as bad as the worst. She closed her eyes, no longer able to bear looking at him. She felt like such a fraud.
“I’m going to do better,” Deborah said, making a promise to Lynox aloud.
He kissed her on the lips. “I know.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said in between the kisses he planted on her lips. “I promise I’m going to be good.”
He stopped and looked at her. “I hear you, but right now, if you don’t mind, I’d like for you to be bad.” Lynox passionately kissed his wife as he lifted her up and carried her over to the bed. “I accept your apology,” he added, and then they went on to share an evening with no apologies and no regrets.
Chapter 8
“Nevada was nice. I loved the weather, but there’s no place like home,” Klarke said as she and Deborah sat inside Scrambler Marie’s restaurant. It was a nice little café whose specialty was breakfast, which they served breakfast until 3:00 p.m., and then the café closed. “So when Reo suggested we maybe move back to Ohio, I was so ready. Even if it wasn’t back to my hometown of Toledo, it was close enough, and it wasn’t Sin City.”
“Yeah, Lynox and I have talked about relocating to another state,” Deborah said, “but whenever he suggests someplace, I find a reason to shoot it down.”
“Like where?” Klarke asked, then took a bite from her stack of pancakes. Even though it was one thirty in the afternoon, Klarke had a taste for breakfast food.
“He mentioned Arizona,” said Deborah, who had opted to choose from the lunch menu. “I was all for that at first, until I did my research and learned about those sandstorms.” Deborah bit into her burger.
Klarke laughed. “Those don’t happen everywhere in Arizona, do they? I thought it was just a certain area.”
“I don’t know. But I wasn’t taking any chances,” Deborah said. “Then there was California.”
Klarke swallowed her food. “Let me guess. Earthquakes.”
“You got it,” Deborah said, pointing with her fork before dipping it into her side salad.
“What about some place like Texas?” Klarke asked. “They have nice weather pretty much all year round.”
“Nope.” Deborah shook her head. “Remember that year they kept having all those tornadoes? And now they be dealing with floods.” Deborah shook her head emphatically.
“Oh, girl, then you need to keep your butt right here in Ohio with me,” Klarke said, realizing that Deborah would find a reason not to relocate to every place on the map.
“And that’s the point I was trying to make.”
Point taken,” Klarke noted. “You guys can always get a vacation home somewhere. With both your lines of work, you can work anywhere on the map as long as you have Internet. For me, though, now that I have my event-planning business here, I’m pretty much stuck.”
“By the way, that was a fantastic job your company did with Reo’s party,” Deborah said, complimenting Klarke. She then took another bite of her burger.
“Thank you. And it wasn’t because it was my husband’s event that all the t’s were crossed and the i’s dotted,” Klarke said. “My staff are perfectionists. They see to it that every event is flawless.”
“That’s great. Good workers are hard to find sometimes,” Deborah said. “Lord knows, I’ve been through my share of assistants. It made me want to go back to the days when I did everything myself, which is exactly what I ended up doing.” Deborah’s counselor had suggested to her that she get an assistant to help take some of the stress out of her day-to-day life. Finding a dedicated assistant had seemed to cause more stress, so she’d nixed that idea after the third one, who wasn’t a charm, but who had stolen her charm bracelet instead. “Where did you find your staff?”
Klarke held up her finger, asking Deborah to hold on while she swallowed the piece of sausage she’d bitten into. “I went through this staffing agency,” Klarke answered after swallowing her food. “They are wonderful. You tell them what you want and what you need, and they go through a vigorous interview process with candidates. They narrow them down to only the best, and then you choose from their top choices.”
“Oh, wow. I might need to get their information from you.”
“No problem,” Klarke said. “I have no complaints. All my employees are amazing, even the ones I inherited when I bought the company.”
Deborah was surprised to hear that Taylor Made wasn’t a company that Klarke had started herself but had purchased. “Oh, you bought the company?”
“Yes. Well, sort of.” Klarke picked her napkin up from her lap, wiped her mouth, and then placed it on her plate. Even though she had about a quarter of her meal left, she was full. “I was an event planner for one of the hotels in Vegas,” Klarke continued. “It started off as just a part-time gig, something for me to do in Vegas while Reo was touring all the time. Of course, those were the days when author book tours weren’t overrated. I wanted to be busy doing something too while Reo was doing his thing. I fell in love with bringing clients’ visions to life.”
“So how’d you get into the catering piece of your business?” Deborah asked. Even though Klarke had thrown in the towel, so to speak, and was not going to finish her food, Deborah wasn’t going to let that stop her from finishing off her meal. She was going to take her time and eat every last bite. She rarely got to sit down, chew slowly, and simply enjoy a meal. Usually, she was gobbling it down while working on a manuscript, or gobbling it down so that she could hurry and get back to the one she’d pulled herself away from. Sometimes she couldn’t even remember what her food had tasted like.
“That happened when we decided to move back here. With almost every event, food is involved. I learned about a catering business that was up for sale. Tamarra already had a thriving business with dedicated customers—”
“Tamarra?” Deborah said, interrupting Klarke. No way was this a coincidence. A former member of New Day named Tamarra had once owned a catering business. She’d sold it once she began having complications due to HIV. She eventually passed away from Pneumocystis carinii pneumonia. “Tamarra Edwards?”
“Yes. Do you know her?” Klarke asked.
A somber look took over Deborah’s face. “Yes, she was a wonderful person.”
Klarke detected Deborah’s change in demeanor. “Was?”
“She’s since passed on.”
Klarke covered her mouth in despair. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry to hear that. Wow.” She shook her head.
“I know. It was sad. She was so young,” Deborah said. “Her catering business was her life. We all felt so bad that she had to let it go. But it feels good to know that someone like yourself is successfully carrying on the business.”
“Thank you,” Klarke said. “We kept her company name for a few months for clientele and name recognition purposes. In doing so, we had to continue serving her menu, per the contract. We did add some new dishes. Once we changed the name to Taylor Made, which is a play on my maiden name, Taylor, we changed it from Tamarra’s mainly soul food menu to a more upscale menu. We did keep her macaroni and cheese, though.” Klarke winked.
“Oh, the infamous mac and cheese.” Deborah smiled while shaking her head. “That was her signature dish, indeed.”
“Well, whenever you want any, let me know.” Klarke leaned in and w
hispered, “I had to pay extra for the recipe.”
The women shared a laugh.
“But seriously,” Klarke continued, “I knew I was going to come back to Ohio and do my own event planning. With Tamarra’s business, there was a catering company with a built-in customer base for sale. Most people who need a caterer need it for an event, right?”
“So you said, ‘I’m about to take all the money,’” Deborah replied, surmising what had happened.
“Girl, would you leave money on the table? It was a no-brainer.” Klarke took a sip of her drink.
“A blessing from God, no doubt.”
“A blessing from God for sure.” Klarke shook her head. She shook her head as if she was thinking back on all God had done for her. “And He just keeps on blessing me. Even when I found myself sitting in a jail cell, I might not have known it then, but He was even right there with me too.”
“Jail?” Deborah asked with a raised octave, pulling Klarke from her daze with her shocked tone. It went without saying that Deborah was indeed curious to hear why Klarke had been in jail, but she recognized that it was probably a sensitive subject, and so she wouldn’t push her new friend to talk about anything that she didn’t want to. But Deborah made a mental note that if the opportunity presented itself, she’d ask her about it later.
Klarke looked at Deborah, now conscious of the words that had spilled from her mouth and had caused such a reaction from Deborah. “Oh yeah. Well, that’s a whole other story for a whole other time.” Klarke wiped her mouth and then finished up her drink. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me for brunch. It’s been a while since I’ve had any girlfriend time.”
“Same here,” Deborah agreed. “I really don’t do the girlfriend thing. Not that I didn’t want to. I never found anyone like . . .” Deborah’s words trailed off as she stared off into space. She then looked at Klarke. “Like you, I guess. Someone who was cool and down to earth.” Deborah popped a fry into her mouth. “Can I be honest with you?” She waited for Klarke to reply.
“Of course.”
“Well, at first I was even a little skeptical about connecting with you, but then Lynox felt that a friend to hang out with was probably exactly what I needed. I have been so stressed out, moody, and I never take time to just”—Deborah looked down at her plate—“eat.” She chuckled, then sipped her drink. “That husband of mine might have been right. I mean, we hit it off like we’ve been friends forever.”
“We do, don’t we?” Klarke smiled. “Well, it’s not that I don’t do the girlfriend thing. I don’t have my old crew here to roll with me. I have two best friends. Well, one now.” Klarke’s face saddened.
“Have a falling-out with one of them?” Deborah asked, guessing that was what had happened.
“No. Jeva lives in Nevada, and Breezy . . .” Klarke took a breath. “She passed away while giving birth.” Klarke sniffed and fought to hold back her tears. Breezy had been Klarke’s ride-or-die diva. If Klarke had ever decided she wanted to drive off a bridge, Breezy wouldn’t have been the friend who tried to talk her out of it. She’d have been the one right there on the passenger side, with her seat belt on.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up memories.”
“Oh, no, no.” Klarke shooed her hand. “Thinking about Breezy is a good thing.” A smile covered Klarke’s face. “She was something else.” Klarke composed herself, took a napkin, and wiped her nose. “But, hey, let’s end this outing on a good note. Hopefully, you’ll get to meet Jeva. You never know. God could be stirring up a new threesome.”
Deborah nodded and smiled. She liked the idea of finally having some girlfriends to hang out with and doing something other than Bible study, women’s conferences, and marriage seminars. Folks thought that because she was a Christian and loved the Lord, everything she did in life had to be church related. There was a thing such as balance, which Deborah was now determined to find in her life. Everything felt so off kilter and unbalanced that this could make all the difference. This little bit of time spent with Klarke had solidified this notion.
“Well, I better get ready to go,” Deborah said. She threw her napkin over the last bite of her burger. She really was full to the point where she couldn’t eat another bite. “I want to get my little guy from my mom and get home before Tyson gets off the school bus.”
“Next time we’ll have a girls’ night out or something,” Klarke said as the waitress slid their check onto the table. “I have someone else I’d like to introduce you to. She’s my husband’s best friend’s wife. She’s good peoples too.”
“Pay whenever you’re ready,” the waitress told them, then walked away.
“And remember, the offer is still open for that teenager of mine to keep your boys for you.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Deborah said, still not 100 percent sure about leaving her children with a teenager, even if the maid, nanny, or whoever was going to help out.
“Don’t just be saying that,” Klarke said as she went in her purse and pulled out her wallet.
“Really, I’m not,” Deborah said. Deborah liked Klarke. She seemed like a really nice woman, someone Deborah wouldn’t mind having as a friend. And she’d mentioned God earlier, when she’d talked about being in jail. So even though Deborah was on the fence about the whole babysitting thing, she wasn’t on the fence about starting a friendship with Klarke.
“How much is my share?” Deborah asked Klarke as Deborah unzipped her own purse.
“Oh, no.” Klarke put her hand up. “I’ve got this. I invited you out. My treat.”
“You sure?”
“Girl, yes.” Klarke placed her credit card on top of the bill.
“Well, I sure do appreciate it. Thank you so much,” Deborah said.
The waitress walked over to the table. “I’ll take this and bring your receipt right back out to you.” She picked up the check and the credit card, then walked away.
“So I hear our boys have a playdate planned for next week,” Klarke said. “They’re supposed to meet at our house and start on their book proposal to present to their publishers.”
“Oh, okay.” Deborah tried to hide the fact that she was a little upset that Lynox hadn’t mentioned this to her. Clearly, Reo had mentioned it to his wife. Deborah pictured Reo and Klarke that night at his event. They had looked like the perfect couple. They probably were open with one another and told each other everything. The green-eyed monster began to rear its ugly head in Deborah’s heart. Perhaps she was getting uptight for nothing. Maybe Klarke had assumed for some reason that the two men were getting together, or maybe she thought she’d overheard Reo talking about an upcoming meeting. She didn’t want to believe that she was the only one left out of the loop. So that she didn’t jump on Lynox for no reason, she wanted to ascertain how Klarke knew about his plans and she didn’t. “So, Reo told you Lynox is coming over, huh?”
“Oh, no. Lynox told me. I was on the phone with him the other—”
“Your receipt,” the waitress interrupted as she laid the piece of paper and the credit card in front of Klarke. She then removed a pen from her apron and laid it on top of those items. “Thank you again. We hope you’ll come back and see us.”
Thank goodness that waitress had distracted Klarke. It had prevented her from seeing the boo-boo face that Deborah was displaying. There was no way that Deborah had just heard this woman say she’d been on the phone with her husband.
“We will definitely come back and visit again,” Klarke assured the waitress. She then picked up the pen and signed the receipt. “Snaps! I forgot to add the tip before I wrote the total down. And I don’t think I have any cash on me.” She began digging around in her purse.
Deborah had cash and could have easily left the tip, but she was oblivious to the situation at hand. Her mind was stuck on hearing that Klarke had learned about Reo and Lynox’s meeting through Lynox himself. When had he talked to Klarke? And why? He hardly knew the woman. Why would he be striking up a conversatio
n with her? As calming and nice as her afternoon with Klarke had been, Deborah was starting to feel some kind of way.
“Ah, my hidden stash.” Klarke pulled a five-dollar bill out of a compartment of her wallet. She laid it down on the table.
She had to ask Klarke about her conversation with Lynox, otherwise it would bother her to no end. “You said that—” Deborah began, but Klarke’s cell phone began ringing, cutting Deborah off.
Klarke held her index finger up to Deborah. “Just one moment.” She looked at her phone. “I gotta take this real quick.” Klarke answered the call, while Deborah sat there, staring down her throat, anxiously waiting for Klarke to hurry up and end the call. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Klarke said into the phone, her cheeks turning red. It was clear to Deborah that there was trouble on the line. “Hold on a second.” Klarke put the phone against her chest. “I’m sorry, Deborah, but I have an issue with a catering job.” She stood and gathered her things while talking to Deborah. “I’ll call you, though, so we can plan to meet next week.”
“Yes, sure,” Deborah said, disappointed that she wouldn’t get the information that she so desperately wanted. At least not from Klarke.
Klarke bent down and gave Deborah a hug and said, “Thanks for understanding.” She put the phone back to her ear and chattered her way out of the restaurant.
“Humph. But I don’t understand,” Deborah said to herself, staring down at the table. “I absolutely do not understand why you’re talking to my husband on the phone.”
“Pardon me?”
Deborah was horrified that not only had she said her thoughts out loud, but also that Klarke had heard her. She looked up to see the waitress standing there. Relief consumed Deborah. “Oh, I, uh . . . nothing.” Deborah smiled and shook her head, so glad that it wasn’t Klarke standing there instead of the waitress.
The waitress picked up the signed receipt and her tip. “Thank you again. Have a great day.” She walked away after gathering some of Deborah’s and Klarke’s dishes.
