Diamond Dreams

by Zuri Day

  “Where are we going?” Diamond asked, even as a wave of excitement surged through her.

  “This will be our last night with the place all to ourselves. We’re going to go and christen the Papa Dee Suite.”

  “Wait. I’ll be right back.” Diamond went into the office. “Let’s stop by the rack,” she said. They did, and shortly after entering the warehouse, Diamond returned with a chilled bottle of sparkling wine, a vintage bottle from another great year. The two were silent as Jackson expertly navigated the cart up the winding road that led to the old house. The night was cool, the moon was full and the stars twinkled like so many diamonds in the sky. Jackson turned the cart onto the pine-tree-lined entrance that now welcomed guests. Small lights twinkled from the boughs, creating a magical ambience around the freshly painted white house that beckoned in the distance. The house had been expertly lifted and now sat on a large expanse of smooth stone. The original porch had been refortified and expanded to the length of the front of the house. As a nod to its history, a lone plank remained loose, with a key inside.

  Diamond smiled as she retrieved the key to the newly installed mahogany door outfitted with beveled glass, a single rose etched into the design. They entered and were immediately enveloped with the energy of the remodeled home, now with gleaming hardwood floors, floral silk-covered walls and a fireplace where wood sat stacked ready for use. The downstairs had stayed true to the original design, but upstairs the transformation had been more striking. A wall had been removed to turn the entire upstairs into a master suite, add a walk-in closet and an en suite bath with every amenity. A gas fireplace now anchored the upstairs area. Jackson walked over and turned it on, while Diamond tried out the stereo system, prestocked with thousands of tunes in every genre. The mood set, Jackson walked to the table where Diamond had placed the bubbly, popped the cork and filled their flutes.

  “To an amazing woman,” he said, his eyes shining with love for her, “who knows who I am, where I’ve been, and accepts every part of me. I love you, Diamond.”

  “I love you, too.”

  They drank as the nostalgic sounds of John Coltrane’s “Naima” set the mood—sultry and soulful, melodic and hot. Dancing around the room, they drank not only the sparkling vintage but the love that was pouring from each other’s eyes. “I want to ask you something,” Jackson said, grinding his already hardening manhood into Diamond’s soft flesh.

  “Yes?” Her whisper was filled with notes that suggested that at any moment he could have asked her to run down the I-15 buck naked and she would have obliged.

  “Are you seeing anyone else?”

  Diamond stopped moving. “Where did that come from?”

  “From my wanting to know. Is there anyone else in your life right now?”

  Diamond laid her head back on Jackson’s shoulder and resumed their slow groove. “No. What about you?”

  “No one.” Silky notes dribbled from Coltrane’s sax into the room, making them giddy, like the bubbly, like each other. “I was tested six months ago and always practice safe sex. But I believe what I have with you is special, Diamond. We did it the other night by accident, but from now on out, when we make love, I don’t want anything between us.”

  The thought of her and Jackson in the raw, flesh to flesh, made Diamond tingle all over. It brought back memories of the lone other night where it had been so, when she’d poured out her love and he’d emptied his heart by sharing his past. She closed her eyes as he kissed her temple, sure that he could detect the rapidity of her heartbeat. “I’m on the Pill,” she said at last, having started back on them six months ago to help lessen her cramps and regulate her periods. “I want to feel you, too.”

  As Coltrane’s sax slid into Thelonious Monk’s piano—and in between hot and sticky kisses—Jackson and Diamond undressed. They walked to the glass, steel and mosaic stone shower. Diamond smiled as she reached for the cellophane-wrapped sponge, remembering Jackson’s response when she commented on their proliferation for shower-taking. “I like tasting you all over, baby. And I don’t like to fake the funk…or lick it.” They’d showered, and then Jackson had shown her exactly what he’d meant.

  Jackson took it from her. “Here, let me.”

  He opened the liquid soap, poured a generous amount on the sponge and took special pains as he tended to Diamond’s neck, shoulders, back and butt with kisses on the same. “Spread your legs, baby.” He washed her tenderly, lovingly before his tongue replaced the sponge. He dipped his tongue in her feminine flower, lapped her juices like the sweetest nectar until the musky odor of their abiding affection filled the room, along with Diamond’s mewling and traces of “’Round Midnight.” He finished washing her down to her toes, and then she returned the favor. When she came to the massive weapon that would soon be inside her, she stroked it lovingly, circling the perfectly shaped mushroom tip with her finger and following it with her tongue. Grabbing Jackson’s hard, round buttocks, she took him in, licking, sucking, setting up a rhythm that almost took her man over the edge. He took her hand, but instead of the bed, he picked her up and walked them to the wall. Her legs instinctively circled his waist, and when they did, she was an open target and his sword was poised for the sweet attack. With one long thrust, he joined them together, squeezing her cheeks, stroking her sensitive entrance, branding her body with his dick. Balancing her against the wall, he took hold of her hips and took their dance to yet another level. Every time Diamond thought it couldn’t get any better, he surprised her. By rotating his hips to a groove of his own, he touched every part of Diamond’s essence and every fiber of her soul. Just before her release, he stopped, led her to the edge of the bed and guided her to her knees. There, once again, he took a loving hold of her hips, teasing her with his tip, kissing her shoulders, back, buttocks, thighs, kissing her as if she were ambrosia. “I love you, Diamond,” he whispered, as with quick, sure strokes he guided himself inside her. “I love the feel of you, my love.” He settled in deep and leaned over. “Do you like this, baby? Do you like the feel of me inside you?” Diamond nodded, but when she didn’t answer audibly he pulled out and slowly pushed in again. “Do you like this?”

  “Yes,” Diamond stuttered, grinding herself against him, taking him deeper still.

  “What about this?” he asked, moving in and out and side to side, then becoming still again. He reached around, tweaked her nipples and then, without warning, drove himself deeply inside her with such an intensity, such ferocity, that Diamond felt as intense of a release as she’d ever felt start at her core that straightened her hair and curled her toes. She’d never been a screamer and was therefore surprised to learn the high C bouncing off the walls was not the stereo but her own voice.

  “Jackson!”

  Her shout sent him over the edge, and then he joined her on the bed. He cuddled her close, feeling a contentment he hadn’t thought possible, no longer able to imagine life without this jewel he’d found. “You make me happy, baby,” he whispered in her ear.

  “And you make me work,” she replied.

  He chuckled. “What?”

  “That’s right. Because of you, I have to call housekeeping for a late-night cleanup.”

  “Oh! What just happened is my fault then, huh?”

  “Absolutely.” She turned to face him. “And I enjoyed every delicious minute of it. I think Nicodemus would have liked you and would be glad to know that the home has once again been christened by a Drake.”

  Chapter 31

  Jackson walked into the office carrying flowers and a blue box. Marissa looked up in wonder, not so much that her boss had bought flowers. He often surprised her with such thoughtful treats. No, it was the fact that he was humming that caught her off guard.

  “What happened to you?” she asked, her dimple twinkling as she spoke. “Are those gifts for me or the woman who put that
smile on your face and that pep in your step?”

  “These flowers are for the best assistant in the world,” he said. “I appreciate you postponing your trip home to help with these last-minute details of the Drake opening. This,” he said, placing the Tiffany box on the desk, “is for you to wear to the opening tonight.”

  “Me? Boss, you know I don’t do those fancy-smancy gatherings.”

  “You’ll like this one. The place is really beautiful, the Drakes are good people and Diamond has two brothers. Both are handsome and available.”

  “Diamond Drake? That’s who has you smiling like you’re auditioning for a toothpaste commercial? I know what you’re trying to do, Jackson. And I appreciate it. But my flight leaves first thing in the morning. And Thanksgiving is the busiest travel holiday of the year. I still need to pack and—”

  “I’m sorry. Did I form that as a question? I meant to say that part of your job requirement is that you attend the grand opening of Drake Wines Resort & Spa.”

  Marissa huffed, but in actuality she was only mildly annoyed. In the past year, a so-called friend and a betrayed trust had sent her reeling. Jackson and this job had been a lifeline. If not for this anchor, she would have drowned. “Why would they open the day before Thanksgiving anyway?” she said, reaching for the famous blue box. “I’m sure their workers would rather be with their families.”

  “Their rationale is that oftentimes those without families are forgotten. Not everyone has a home to go to, and not everyone has a family that they’re dying to see. The fact that both the restaurant and hotel are sold out is proof enough that their choice was a good one.”

  Marissa opened the box and pulled out a beautiful watch: functional yet elegant at the same time. “This is beautiful, Jackson. But really…it’s too much.”

  “Does that mean I can skip your raise this year?”

  Marissa hurriedly put the watch back in the box and pushed it toward Jackson. “Don’t get it twisted, Boss. I’d rather put my money in the bank than wear it on my arm.”

  “Ha!”

  “Thank you, Jackson. We have a lot to be thankful for.”

  “No more letters?”

  Marissa shook her head. “Not for almost three weeks. A couple hang-ups but that could be anyone. I think the beefed-up security since the break-in and the very obvious cameras around the place have scared off whoever this was.”

  “I hope you’re right. In the meantime, we have an opening to attend. Why don’t you ride with me? You can take off now, and I’ll pick you up in a couple hours.”

  Marissa reached for her purse. “When it comes to getting off early, you don’t have to ask me twice. I’ll see you soon!”

  Jackson left her area and walked around the office. It mostly resembled a ghost town, but he saw one lone light shining at the back of the office. He walked in. It was his newest employee, a junior architect he’d recently recruited from the East Coast.

  “Carlton? Are you kidding me?” Jackson stepped into his office. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be chilling with your folks in D.C. by now.”

  “Hey, Boss. Getting it in, I guess. You know how we do.”

  “I appreciate the dedication and all but working through Thanksgiving? That’s not required, bro.”

  “I guess it’s my Type A personality. I’m almost done with this set of sketches. They’re for the Chicago job. Another hour and then I’m out. Catching a nine o’clock red-eye.”

  “That’s what’s up. You have a good one, man.”

  “You, too.”

  Jackson continued down the hall to his office. As soon as he made sure everything was locked up tight, he left the Boss Construction offices and headed for the elevator. Just as he reached it, his phone rang. “Jackson.”

  “Sorry to bother you, Jackson. This is Frank.”

  “Happy holidays, man.”

  Frank continued in his no-nonsense style. “I’ve got news.”

  Normalcy continued around him, but Jackson’s body went on high alert. “Today?”

  “Evil doesn’t pause for the holidays.”

  “Talk.”

  “A childhood friend of yours has been snooping around, asking questions. We finally got one of the neighborhood know-it-alls to talk.”

  “I thought I told you that I didn’t want you digging into my childhood.”

  “Yeah, well, call me hardheaded. My wife sure does. I had a hunch, Jackson, and it wouldn’t go away. When all the investigative roads kept leading back to Brandon Dent, I homed in on his prison connections. I learned the identity of Slim Shady.”

  “It’s not Marshall Mathers?” Jackson asked, his mind once again going to the only Slim Shady he knew of…hip-hop’s well-known White rap artist.

  “No, Marshall isn’t the name I came up with.”

  Obviously Frank didn’t get the joke. “Who is it, then?”

  “Shay Thomas.” Complete silence as Jackson processed this news. “Name ring a bell?”

  “Yes,” Jackson said after slowly releasing a breath. “He was one of my best friends from back in the day.”

  “Did you know he went to prison?”

  Jackson closed his eyes against the memories. “Yes.”

  “Word on the street is he blames you for the bid he did.” He was silent as he imagined a myriad of emotions playing across Jackson’s face. “Do you have any idea what he’s talking about? What crime he committed that you know about and why he’d want to do you harm?”

  “Yes.”

  “And it never crossed your mind that telling me about this might be a good idea?”

  “I didn’t think it was necessary. Shay and I were best friends. He knows I had nothing to do with why he’s in prison. That he might be the person behind the threats never crossed my mind.”

  Frank then said, “Shay was released from prison a couple months ago. Went back to the neighborhood and started asking about you. Says you broke a confidence and it’s time for payback. He saw an article on you in a magazine, Jackson. So he knows where you work and maybe even where you live. You need to watch your back, be careful of your surroundings until we get to the bottom of this.”

  They ended the call, and Jackson proceeded to his car. While driving home to change for the opening, his mind whirled, his entire body was tense. My boy Shay is free? And saying I broke a confidence? What the hell is he talking about? Jackson recalled the last time he saw his former best friend, whom they used to call Toe-2-Toe for the way he liked to fistfight. It was the return back to the neighborhood for his sixteenth birthday. He hadn’t seen his childhood friends for two years, and by the time he returned, hoping to reestablish a connection, Shay and Jackson’s other best friend, Wesley “Glock” Adams, were deep into gang activity. Shay, one year older than Jackson, was already a major dealer. One particular night, amid the haze of alcohol and weed, Shay had confided to his friends that he’d been threatened by a rival gang member who wanted his clientele. Shay vowed to do whatever it took to protect his gravy train. They rode around most of the night, drinking and smoking. Jackson, who hadn’t ever consumed this level of alcohol and weed in one sitting, fell asleep in the backseat. That’s why he didn’t hear Shay and Wesley plan a robbery at a gas station in the rival gang’s territory, believing that the gang member who’d threatened him would get pinned with the crime. Nor was he aware when they pulled up to a convenience store and pulled a gun on the lone Middle Eastern man behind the counter. The man resisted by pulling a weapon from under the counter, but his thirty-eight-caliber handgun was no match for the 10mm Glock that Shay carried. The convenience store owner was killed; the three boys were arrested. But thanks to an outstanding lawyer who convinced the judge and prosecuting attorneys that Jackson had no knowledge of or involvement in the crime, he was relea
sed without standing trial. And thanks to his uncle John’s influence, his court records were eventually expunged. Shay and Wesley were found guilty of murder in the first degree, and a year after that, Wesley was killed in a prison fight. This news, along with learning that Uncle John wanted to someday turn the construction company over to him, was the catalyst to changing the direction of Jackson’s life. He got in with a new crowd in suburban San Diego, young men who wanted legitimate success. With his former best friends gone and his mother in prison, his old neighborhood no longer held any type of attraction. He never returned.

  But one thing was certain, Jackson thought as he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. It was time to go back now.

  Chapter 32

  When Jackson and Marissa arrived at Drake Wines Resort & Spa, the party was already in full swing. He left the car with the valet, and admired the thoughtful landscaping, which included palm trees, colorful rows of bird-of-paradise, red amaranth and other colorful flowers. Inside they were greeted by sleek slate flooring, floor-to-ceiling windows and glistening chandeliers. Jackson noted Taylor’s final touches to the canvas he’d created as they walked through the packed dining room and over to where the Drake siblings were standing. He did not, however, pick up on the pair of eyes that were watching him.

  “Hello, everyone,” Jackson said, after giving Diamond a quick hug and squeeze. “I’d like to introduce my assistant, Marissa Hayes. Marissa, this is Dexter Drake.”

  “Um, pleased to meet you,” the ever-flirtatious Dexter drawled.

  “The eldest in the clan, Donovan.”

  “A pleasure,” Donovan said, shaking her hand and placing the other one lightly on her arm. They touched, and a bolt as powerful as an electrical current passed between them. Marissa quickly pulled back her hand and diverted her eyes. Donovan’s eyes narrowed as he noted her unease. An unexplainable urge arose within him—the desire to see a smile on that beautifully chocolate, dimpled face.