Jaded (The Butterfly Memoirs) (14 page)

Talk about bad timing.

“Sorry.”

“Day-dreaming, as usual.” She shook her head and turned back to the computer screen in front of her. “I’ll ask again, are you paying attention?” She glared over the top of the glasses resting on the bridge of her nose.

“Yes, ma’am.” I straightened in my seat, forcing the memory of my night with Zack out of my head.

Today was hump day, Wednesday. Five days since the amazing night spent at his house, and two more days until we met again. The man had me feigning. My desire to be underneath him again took over the important aspects of my life. No matter how hard I tried, the image of Zack’s body appeared in my head when I least expected it; while driving and during customer interactions at work.

Even now while in the midst of a very important business meeting with my family…not good.

For the first time in months, my life felt normal. With Ebony and Brian’s wedding over, there were no outside responsibilities demanding my attention. My free time got divided between visiting Zack’s mother three nights a week and researching my options when it came to furthering my education about fashion. Ms. Belinda shared knowledge about the industry, even suggested I go back to school to give myself the professional edge needed to stay competitive.

I was finally ready to share my business plan with my parents.

But first, I needed to focus on tonight’s meeting.

“So, Brandon, you think you’re ready?” my father asked.

Brandon nodded. “Yes, sir. Mimi’s taught me a lot. I’ve been acting manager of the hotel for the past month while she’s looked over my shoulder.”

“He’s got it down. Everything I’ve put in front of him he’s done with minimal assistance. I think he’s got it.” I shot my bother a wink.

He smiled back.

“No wonder the reports have gotten here on time,” Mom muttered.

I forced myself to stay silent and swallowed the comment threatening to emerge. I glanced at my father and saw him shake his head. Since my short temper was as spitfire as my mother’s, he knew very well what my response would be.

I rolled my eyes and looked down at the file folder in front of me.
Dreams
, was typed in fancy font.

My dream, my business.
If I wanted my parents’ help, my best bet would be to suck it up and stay quiet before saying something to ruin my chances of receiving their financial backing.

“Two more weeks and the hotel will be yours, son.” My father smiled at Brandon, pride in his voice. “When your mother and I decided to open the first hotel, we never envisioned owning three of them, much less have our kids in charge. Giving our family a legacy and a stable source of income has been a dream come true. We are so proud of you both.”

Those were good words to hear. As they say, timing is everything.

“Now, if there’s nothing else to discuss, I owe your mother a romantic dinner.”

A disgusted groan came from where my brother sat.

I laughed. “Grow up, Brandon.” He shot me a feigned look of disgust before laughing. “Actually, Mom, Dad, I have something to talk about.”

My parents looked at each other before giving me their full attention.

“What’s on your mind?” My mother shut down her laptop.

Nervous, I took a deep breath, steadied my voice, and let Zack and Ms. Belinda’s positive comments about my business calm me. If strangers could believe in me, why wouldn’t my family? I glanced at both of my parents.
Keep it simple, concise, and to the point. Anything else and they would lose interest.

“I want to thank the both of you for all of the hard work you’ve put into running this business over the years. Your work ethic has not only been taught, it has been instilled in me. Seeing you guys have your dream come to fruition has made me want to follow in your footsteps and start a business of my own.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my father’s eyebrows crease.

“What business?” Mom asked.

I cleared my throat. “I want to be a fashion consultant.”

The room went silent. I glanced over at Brandon who’d taken sudden interest in the bottom of his shoe.

“A fashion consultant?” My mother responded.

I nodded, retrieved extra copies of my business plan from my bag, and distributed it around the table. I opened up my copy and began going over my research information, charts, and business goals. My parents remained silent as I went through the details.

“So that’s what you’ve been doing with your time.” My mother shot a knowing look at my father when I was done.

Dad leaned forward to rest his elbows on the kitchen table, his fingers steepled. “How much are you asking for?”

I gave the number and didn’t flinch.

“Are you kidding me?” My mother snapped. “Yasmine, do you know how much it has taken us to get the new place up and running?”

“Yes, ma’am. What I’m asking for is nowhere near as much.”

“That might be true, but you’re asking anyway. What I don’t understand is your timing. We’ve got three hotels to run. Now you want to dip into that budget?”

My father opened his mouth, but my mother silenced him with a raised hand. “For the last three months, your job performance has suffered. Now I know why. Your head is stuck somewhere else entirely. You have no intention of continuing to support this family.”

“What? Yes I do. That’s part of my plan. My goal is to have
Dreams
become a side business run out of the hotel, not something that is done full-time or off site. My dream is   to—”

“Your
dream
is going to screw this family’s hard work.” Her lips tightened.

I sat back; my spark of enthusiasm fizzled out. “I would never let that happen.”

“I seriously doubt it.” She pointed to the pile of papers spread across the table. “If you were distracted during planning, how are you going to balance that and manage the hotel?”

“It wasn’t just this…I had a lot of stuff on my plate, Mom. Ebony’s wedding—”

“Exactly. It didn’t take much for you to make mistakes. Even though they were minor, they affect everything. I’m sorry, Yasmine. I can’t support this. Our family has worked hard to get things to where they are.”

“But—”

My father held a hand out to both of us. He looked at my mother before he faced me. “Yasmine, what your mother is saying is you came to us with this at a bad time. Opening the new location has been stressful, but thankfully we’ve made it happen.” He shot a sideways glance at my mother; her lips tightened even more. “Investing in a new project before we’ve recouped any money already spent is not a reasonable investment. If you put it to the side and wait for say…six months, then maybe we’ll be able to help.”

“Six months! Are you kidding me? You’re telling me I can’t do what I want to make myself happy. I have to continue to keep your dream alive and kill mine?”

I stood abruptly, my chair scraped against the tiled kitchen floor. Every bone in my body shook as tears welled in my eyes. I was pissed, angry, and disappointed. There was no way to keep it in.

“Excuse me?” My mother pushed her chair back from the table and stood, too.  “This
dream
, as you call it, paid your way through college. This
dream
kept food in your stomach and a roof over your head, not to mention paid for that car you’re driving.”

“And I appreciate everything, I really do. But at what point am I going to stop helping everyone else around me and find my own happiness? When can I do something for
me
?” My breath ragged, a tear found its way down my cheek. I forced myself to ignore it, not wanting to give in to the weakness.

“Well, don’t let any of us stop you,” she spat, her arms spread wide. “You’re a grown woman. If you decide you no longer want to work for this family, you are more than welcome to find another means of gainful employment.”

I gasped. Her words were a slap to my face.

“Mom…,”Brandon looked back and forth between us.

“Rachael,” my father snapped, “that’s uncalled for.”

“No it’s not, Joe. You’ve seen the signs. It’s time we stopped talking about it and put it out on the table.”

I looked at my father. “Put what on the table?”

My father shook his head and sighed. “Yasmine, we love you, we really do, but your personal life is beginning to affect your work. I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to fix it. Or else…we’re not going to have any choice…”

I stared at both of my parents. The two people who brought me into this world and cared for me were supposed to have my back. Were they serious?

“You’re going to fire me?”

The room went silent. I turned and saw my brother’s shell-shocked expression mirrored my own. His mouth had fallen open, but he apparently didn’t know what to say.

I did.

I pulled together the dignity I had left, gathered my business plan, and crammed it into my bag.

Never had I felt so betrayed in my life. First, Carlos, then Javan, and now my parents.

“You know, you’re right. I do need to get my personal life together. I’ve put what everyone else needs or wants first for too long. Look what it got me. Nothing.” I stepped around my chair and shoved it back to the table, not caring about whether it damaged her perfect white tile. “Now it’s time for me. You don’t have to worry about firing me. I quit.”

“What? Yasmine, wait! Mom, Dad…Are you going to let her walk out the door?”

I didn’t bother to stick around and wait for anyone’s reply. I was done. Halfway to the front door, I heard the scrape of a chair. Brandon met me in the foyer and grabbed my arm as I reached for the handle.

“You can’t be serious.”

I studied my brother’s hurt expression. No doubt, he felt just as betrayed. Except this time, I was hurting him. My quitting would dump a crap load of responsibility on him. I had no doubt he’d be able to handle it. But he didn’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire of my decision.

I closed my eyes and breathed deep. To my surprise, anger no longer filled my chest. I felt as if my decision put me on the path of finding true happiness.

My resolve clear, I focused on my brother. “I have to do this, Brandon. I know you won’t understand, and I’m sorry for leaving you like this.” I nodded towards the kitchen. Neither of my parents had moved from their seats. “Do me a favor. Tell them I’ll be out of the hotel as soon as possible. I need at least a week.”

Brandon stared at me. “There’s no way to change your mind, is there?”

“I can’t do this anymore. I have to look out for me. I hope you understand. I don’t want to hurt our family, but I have no choice. I have to do this.”

He leaned in to kiss my forehead and squeezed my hand. “Call me, okay?”

I nodded and walked out, closing the door of my parents’ house softly. My hands began to shake the moment I got in my car. I gripped the steering wheel and forced myself to start the engine. I wasn’t about to sit in my parents’ driveway. I backed out and drove down the street. When I reached the stop sign several houses down, I risked a peek in my rearview mirror. Nobody stood on the front porch, and everyone’s cars were still in the driveway.

I turned the corner, drove to the front of the subdivision, and pulled into the clubhouse parking lot. I put the car in park and lay my head on the steering wheel.

What the hell did I just do?

Chapter 17

Six P.M. on the 101 was a pain. Today was Thursday; traffic would be worse tomorrow night. Hmm, maybe I could leave early and assign store closing duties to one of my trusted employees. I’d like to be home in enough time to shower and have dinner ready by the time Yasmine arrived. I was adamant about her leaving before midnight. She would arrive by eight. Four hours would not be enough time for me.

I loosened my tie as traffic moved again. Five miles would take at least twenty minutes before I reached my exit. I picked up my phone and scrolled through the numbers.  I wanted to hear Yasmine’s voice. We’d seen each other twice this week and it had been hard to keep my hands to myself.

Friends every day of the week except for Friday.

It would be easier if our paths didn’t cross during that time, but it was impossible. She came to check on my mother three days a week, and most evenings she was leaving when I arrived. My mother managed to coerce her into staying for dinner on several occasions. Back then it had been easy to sit across from Yasmine and enjoy the conversation. But now that we had our own private arrangement, it was damn near impossible to not remember what she felt like in my arms. Even my mother sitting next to her could not distract my thoughts.

How long could we keep up the farce before my mother put two and two together and figured out what we were up to on Friday evenings?

The image of Yasmine’s smooth skin invaded my thoughts again. Today wasn’t one of her scheduled days to check on my mother. I set the phone back in the cup holder and concentrated on the drive.

Damn. Friday couldn’t get here fast enough.

I arrived at my mother’s house, surprised to see my mom sitting on the front porch.

I walked up the steps and gave her a kiss on the cheek before joining her on the swing. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” She studied me, a look of curiosity on her face.

She wore the same expression on her face as she did when I was a child.

“What?”

“I had a visitor today.”

“Who?”

She turned to face me, her eyes narrowing. “Melissa.”

I froze. “Melissa?”

She nodded.

I sat back on the swing, closed my eyes, and massaged my temples. “What did she want?”

“She was looking for you.”

“I’m in the same place I’ve been since the day she left.” I opened my eyes. “She hasn’t come by.”

My mother shrugged. “Maybe you weren’t there. Who knows?” Her attention went back to the empty street.

I huffed. It’s funny how life worked. I hadn’t seen nor talked to Melissa in over a year. At first, I waited for her to come back, call or text, something to let me know our relationship had not been a waste of time. I wanted her to tell me even though she could not handle the emotional turmoil I endured, she at least still loved me.