“Want to join us?” I asked.
“Maybe another time.” Tre wrapped an arm around his fiancée’s waist and said, “The interview went well. The exposure should drive more business to the resort.”
After more introductions, and a final whispered reminder from Jen to cut back on the drinks, they took off.
“He is definitely hot,” Joya said, fanning herself when they were out of earshot.
“Yup. Jen snagged a good one. He used to be the biggest player in town. She settled him down.”
I was talking way too much and all because of those appletinis.
Joya’s eyes went wide. “There are so few professional men around, I’d imagine Tre would attract women like hotcakes. In a lot of ways he reminds me of Quen.”
I started to feel slightly queasy. All that sweet, sticky green liquid was rumbling around in my stomach.
“Quen’s not a player?”
Joya tossed me this smug smile.
“Trust me, girlfriend, he is. You’d never seen that side of him because he isn’t interested in you.”
That sobered me up quickly. Size eighteen was now determined to take on size two.
Chapter 15
Four days later I was standing on a scale, replaying in my head what Joya had said to me about Quen being a player. I’d never heard any woman refer to him as a dog because he was a real gentleman. Joya had made that comment just to let me know I was nothing special. It hurt.
“You’re up a pound, sugar,” Quen said.
Yikes! How did that happen? I’d been existing on next to nothing after the appletini incident. I’d been watching every single thing I put into my mouth. To compete with Joya I would have to lose weight, and I planned on doing so quickly.
When I got off the scale Quen said, “I’ve been thinking that you and I should start jogging in the mornings. Usually I do so a few times a week just to change things up a bit. It would mean you getting up even earlier in the morning.”
“Sure, I’ll jog,” I said eagerly. I wasn’t about to miss out on an opportunity to spend more time with him. “And what about you cooking for me or giving me recipes or something? You promised.”
I’d been feeling ignored and used ever since that evening when we’d made love. Since then Quen had stuck strictly to business.
“I’m one step ahead of you,” he said. “I’ve been cooking up a storm all weekend. I’ll drop the meals off at your place later. Everything’s been weighed and every calorie accounted for. I even have labels on each container. You know, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. Breakfast and lunch.”
“You and I are all right then?” I asked, because I was feeling insecure and needed reassurance.
“Of course we are, sugar. I’ll see you later.” Quen high-fived me.
He was back to treating me like I was his little sister again. Now that Joya was back in town everything would change if I let it.
I told Quen what time I would be home and then I headed over to the Chronicle. We were working out of the office today and I needed to talk to Jen about that raise. It was time I started looking for my own place. I now had a taste of luxury living and was hoping to find a deal in one of the new buildings; something that I could buy with creative financing.
Jen looked up from her keyboard and nodded in my direction. “Morning.”
She was normally there before I arrived and I left her there when I went home.
“Morning,” I grunted back before flopping into my chair. I noisily rummaged through my bag for the carrots in Ziploc I planned on having for breakfast.
“You’re snacking already?” Jen glanced at me as I gobbled down a carrot.
“Not snacking, this is breakfast.”
“Which means you’ll be hungry all day and cheating like crazy by dinner time.”
“I don’t plan on having dinner.”
“What!” Jen’s attention was now fully on me. She swiveled her chair. “Perhaps we should talk.”
I chewed noisily on another carrot waiting for her to say something, anything.
“Your body is going to need fuel to keep it going,” she lectured. “Dieting doesn’t necessarily mean starving yourself. Have you discussed this crash diet with Quen?”
Quen wasn’t my father. I didn’t need his permission. “I’m seeing him tonight,” I admitted. “And no, I did not tell him what I was doing.”
“You should. By the way, you seemed really happy the other evening at Mario’s. Tre and I were saying we’re really glad you two are dating.”
Dating? Funny but I’d never thought of me and Quen as dating. We’d hooked up. Now I was afraid to give our friendship a name.
“What did you think of Joya?” I asked.
Jen didn’t answer right off but that could mean a number of things. “She seems okay,” she said at last.
“What aren’t you saying?”
“Doesn’t it strike you as strange that she found you of all people to befriend?”
Should my feelings be hurt? Was she insulting me?
Jen continued, “Joya’s just gotten back to town after being gone several years. She somehow managed to sublet one of Quen’s apartments and there’s not a thing he can do about it because there’s no clause in the lease addressing second party renting. She’s probably heard that Quen’s been spending a lot of time with you. And yes, I know you two have this diet and exercise thing worked out, but he’s going over and above his professional obligation. It’s clearly obvious he has an interest in you.”
It wasn’t that obvious to me. In the back of my mind I was still thinking of myself as a booty call.
“You give any thought to my raise?” I asked, switching the subject. Hearing Joya’s name always made me feel inadequate.
Jen glanced at her watch. “How’s the daily quota coming? If you can maintain that we’ll talk in a week.”
It was better than a flat out no. Refusing to acknowledge a stomach that was beginning to speak to me in tongues, I began reading letters.
Come lunchtime though, I thought I would faint. By then I’d eaten enough crackers and drank enough water to bloat. Someone told me the combination gave you a false sense of being full. Full I wasn’t but I ate one scoop of tuna fish and a measly apple, anyway.
By dinnertime I was in a downright nasty mood and feeling light headed. As I dragged myself home I decided to stay positive. In an hour or so I would see Quen, and if I was smart I’d make our time work for me.
When my doorbell rang, I was showered and dressed in another black getup. This linen dress came down to my ankles and had slits on the side. It made me look slimmer. I clipped on turquoise earrings—I missed having color, and went off to answer.
With a smile on my face I opened the door. Across the hall, Ida Rosenstein, who’d been one of the building’s first tenants, was having a smoke. She didn’t care, or couldn’t read the huge signs declaring the building a smokefree environment. Ida made her own rules and because she was old and hard of hearing, no one had the heart to turn her in.
“You two have something going?” she barked loud enough for everyone on the floor to hear. Sure enough the door of 5D pushed open and that nosey bitch, Camille Lewis, stuck out her head.
“Told you the two of them were involved,” she said in her loud Caribbean accent.
That was my signal to wave Quen in, mutter “excuse me” to Ida, and slam the door in the pot stirrer’s face.
Quen carried a shopping bag in one hand, the other he held behind his back. When he set down the paper bag on the kitchen counter, he held out a bouquet of sunflowers to me.
“Here’s a little something,” he said. “It’s my way of saying just how proud I am of you.”
Not a word would come out of my mouth. No man had ever brought me flowers before. Finally I managed to mumble, “Thanks.”
I clutched the sunflowers that were tied together by a violet bow in one hand and sniffled. I hoped I didn’t embarrass myself by doing something stupid like getting
all emotional over a gift that most women expected.
How could Quen possibly be proud of me? I’d gained weight not lost it. And I’d screwed up big time. I should have read the fine print of his rental contract and made sure there was something in there that addressed subletting. But then wasn’t I sort of subletting myself? The difference was Jen and I had no signed formal agreement. She just moved in with Tre and let me rent her furnished apartment. Cheaply I might add.
I sniffled again and then thanked Quen.
“The least I could do, sugar,” he said. “You hungry?”
“A little.”
He should only know I could eat an entire hog right about now. I’d set the dining room table with pretty dishes Jen had bought at one of those pricey upscale stores; Crate and Tub or something like that, just in case Quen decided to stay. I hadn’t been sure whether stopping by meant he was dropping off food or eating with me.
“Do you need me to heat up anything?” I offered.
“No. Tonight’s dinner is all ready to go. I’ll dish it out.”
I felt this warm glow in the pit of my stomach. My mood immediately improved and I wasn’t as light-headed as before.
Containers started coming out of Quen’s bag, lots of them. Some he stacked in Jen’s refrigerator. And although I didn’t know what they contained, my mouth was watering. I was ready to eat.
We were down to a pitiful few bowls when Quen said, “Come on, sugar, sit down.”
I sank into the chair he held out. I wasn’t used to this treatment. No one ever waited on me hand and foot. The men I’d been with weren’t gentlemen, though some of them claimed to be. There’d been no tenderness and no real connection between me and them.
Quen poured a yellowish liquid into a bowl. I hate to tell you what it reminded me of.
“What’s that?” I asked, making a face.
“Broth. Chicken broth.”
It looked like stuff they served in hospitals. I wanted soup with noodles and dumplings, something that stuck to the ribs and filled you up.
Quen dished up a smelly piece of fish onto my plate. Next to it he placed some long green stems. I wanted a potato, rice, macaroni and cheese or buttered bread.
“Salmon and asparagus tips,” Quen explained.
Yuck! Where were the pork chops, sweet potatoes and greens?
As I sat facing him I made myself eat. The soup that I had made fun of was delicious, and the salmon and asparagus much tastier than I’d expected. I was starving. I washed the whole thing down with water and a twist of lemon and pretended it was sweet tea. When I was done eating I dreamed of the dessert I just knew was coming.
Quen served up sliced strawberries and these little oranges. My mouth had been set on red velvet cake. The good thing was that now having eaten I actually felt good.
“You’re an excellent cook. How did you learn?” I asked, meaning it as a compliment. I was hoping the flattery might get me at least another serving of one of those dishes he’d put in the refrigerator.
“I watched my mother when I was growing up,” Quen answered. “She wasn’t a healthy cook but everything was delicious. We all grew up overweight because everything was drowned in sauce and gravy. When the health problems started surfacing I figured there had to be a better way. I started getting into exercise and diet and I started experimenting by cooking my own meals. When you have a sister pass on it stays with you.”
“You must still miss her,” I said quietly.
“Very much. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of Vaughn. And when you smile it’s like seeing her again. You both could light up a dark room with your smiles.”
“That must mean I am cute,” I joked, hoping that the sad expression in Quen’s chocolate eyes would go away.
“Not just cute, sugar, hot!”
I couldn’t meet his eyes. Quen always made me feel good. Right now I felt like I was the most beautiful woman on Flamingo Beach. I got up and began collecting the dishes. Quen followed suit, ignoring me when I protested.
“About the other evening,” he said as we stashed the plates and utensils in the dishwasher.
I held my breath. Here it came, I was about to be dumped.
“What about the other evening?”
“Wouldn’t you say we let the mood take us away.”
“No I wouldn’t say.”
Quen made sure the last plate was in the machine before closing the door. He dried his hands and reached for my shoulders. “The sex was good. Probably the best I’ve ever had.”
“It was great sex and we should do it again.” I smiled at him half joking but I meant every word.
The tips of his fingers dug into my shoulders. He’d gone all serious again.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“How could you hurt me?”
Those brown eyes were melting me, making me all gooey.
“I’m your trainer,” Quen said. “You’re paying me to help get you in shape. I shouldn’t be taking advantage.”
“Take advantage of this,” I said, lifting my dress over my head and standing there in my new sexy underwear that Jen insisted I buy. I crooked a finger at Quen.
“You are too much, sugar,” Quen said, moving slowly toward me, a gleam in his eye.
The next thing we were clawing each other and clothes were flying. This time we made it to the bedroom and barely to bed. Between the heavy breathing and throaty gasps we were poking around and feeling sensitive parts.
I was kneading Quen’s muscles and stroking his skin and while I was doing that, I was thinking, girlfriend you need to lose weight. I wanted him to be proud of me, to walk down the street with me on his arm and a smile on his face. And then it came to me I could do it with the help of diet pills.
Meanwhile, Quen was making me happy in places I didn’t think it would be possible to ever be happy again. He was loving me with his tongue and fingers. He was suckling my breasts while moving his fingers in and out of me, and I was loving every moment of it.
I wanted him inside of me; wanted to feel every lengthy inch of him. And I let him know it.
“In a minute, sugar.”
Quen shifted me onto my back and got on his haunches. His hands stroked my body heating me up. I wanted to scream like a kettle. My bottom half was ripe and moist in all the right places, my body was pulsating like a live wire.
Quen parted my thighs. The tip of his tongue shot me into orbit. I twitched, spasmed and twitched again when he entered me. I was already at a place where nothing else mattered. I tuned into the sensations. I reveled in the touch and feel of Quen, the smell of citrus, the slip and slide of him entering and leaving. I relished the feeling of his rough palms on my skin and the sound of his heavy breathing.
“Quen!”
He gave one last thrust and that did it. I was over the edge.
“I love you,” I said.
His muscles bunched underneath my hands and on a deep sigh he came.
For a long time afterward we lay still. I thought Quen might have fallen asleep until his cell phone jingled.
“Do you need to get that?” I whispered.
Groan then finally, “Nah. That’s what voice mail is for.”
His response sort of made up for him not telling me he loved me back, but not totally. Another few minutes went by before he got up and began dressing. In the back of my mind I wondered if we were just doomed to be sex buddies.
“What about running tomorrow?” he asked, when we were out in the kitchen and he was packing up his empty containers.
“Sure. What time?”
“Early. I’m thinking five-thirty. If you’re game I’ll meet you in the lobby. Since you’re just starting out we’ll take it easy. Wear something comfortable and loose, and get yourself a pair of good running sneakers.”
We were back to business again.
I nodded. Did I have a choice?
Quen’s cell phone jingled again. He dug through his pockets, got out his flip phone
, glanced at the number and put the phone to his ear.
“Yes, Joya?”
I tuned in shamelessly to the one sided conversation.
“Hmm, Peter and Dustin took the keys to New York with them?” Quen glanced in my direction. “Sure I can get a key to you. Tonight? Uh, that might be a problem.”
It was going on ten the last time I looked. Joya had to have known that Quen was out and she had his number.
“What’s so urgent that you need to get into the apartment tonight… Who’s helping you move your things? And they’re only available now… I see. Okay, I’ll leave them at the front desk with the security guard.”
I exhaled the breath I didn’t know I was holding. My relief was short-lived.
“You were hoping I’d meet you at the condo…walk through a one-bedroom apartment?”
Quen rolled his eyes. I rolled mine back at him.
“Pick up the keys at the front desk,” he said and disconnected.
“I need to pay you for the food,” I said, getting my purse.
“Tonight’s meal is on me. I’ll invoice you for the rest.”
Quen gave me a tight hug and kissed the top of my head. I could tell he was distracted and wanted out in a hurry.
I thought about what we’d just done; made love like only two people who cared about each other could. But I wanted to be more than a booty call.
I wanted Quen to look at me like Tre looked at Jen.
Chapter 16
Yeah! I was down to a size sixteen dress and it had only taken a month or so to get there. The good thing was I no longer felt hungry. My over-the-counter diet pills were working. I popped one of those buggers in my mouth and zap I had energy, or at least I felt like I did.
Energy enough that I was exercising twice a day. Right now I was out on the boardwalk with my hand weights. I planned on speed walking. I was feeling especially good because I’d sold another condo and I had the nice fat commission check in hand.
I could make my monthly car payment to Dickie Dyson without sweating and didn’t have to worry about him looking to collect more than money. I’d also gotten a lead on a condo I might be able to buy. Jen hadn’t said another word about me moving out. She still couldn’t make up her mind whether she was selling or renting. Either way I couldn’t afford what she was asking.
All About Me Page 14
