Love Lost (Love's Improbable Possibility) (46 page)

“So, are you alright?” I asked.

She sighed, “Oh, of course,” unconvincingly.

“Okay, because it looked like duke had a grip on that ass
,” I said in jest as I looked for a reaction. She kept her eyes glued to the white picketed fence just a few feet away.

“Yeah…” Rayna sounded really broken.

“Are you sure you're okay, Rayna?” She concerned me and confirmed my reasons for coming by.

“Why do men have to have their egos stroked all the damn time? As a woman, you’re criticized for being independent but as soon as we show a moment of vulnerability, a man happily jumps in and saves the day but…” she paused desolately.

“But what?” I wanted her to continue. She took an extensive pause before saying, “Why does something always have to be attached to it? I mean, time after time, I’ve been chased and when and if I decide to take the hook, there’s always a gotcha-gotcha.”

“That’s because you’ve been choosing boys
—under-developed men.” With that, she looked at me. Her eyes were big, innocent, and still sexy as hell. At that moment, I noticed her beautiful, smooth, caramel skin. It was flawless. Her hair was pushed back into a ponytail. She had no make-up on—just sporting her natural innocence. She was fucking art!

“Baby girl, you’re still young.
You haven’t run across a quality man yet.” I scoffed. “That damn sure wasn’t one I met earlier. What do you owe him? What did he pay for?” It was clear that this issue was about a debt.

“I never exactly “chose” him. He came in sheep’s clothing and then…the gotcha-gotcha. We went on a couple of official dates before I caught on to him. He tried to insult me like
I was trash…like a hood rat. When he saw it wasn’t that easy…he raised the stakes.” She drifted again.

“Y
ou never answered my question.”

“What was that?”

“What did he pay for and how much?”

She popped out of her seat nervously. Her towel slipped as she walked over to the hot tub. I was in awe of her shape.
I mean, damn!
I know I cracked that ass but I was so twisted with desire both nights that I didn’t take it all in.
An hourglass shape with a small waist and pear ass!
When she fully removed the towel by dropping it, her bikini was revealed. It was a sexy number. I had to calm myself down and get back into counseling mode. I sincerely wanted to be a friend to Rayna in her time of need.

She sat
on the edge of the tub immersing only her feet. I heard the water swish from her swaying movements. Her back was toward me and her head tilted to the side. She was giving me that reluctant vulnerability she’d just spoken of. Seconds later, she uttered, “Ten grand and as of tonight—with interest.”

That fucking maxi pad clown ass is sweating her for
ten beans?

“Damn, that it? I thought you owed him a lung, ovary
, or some shit,” I tried to lighten the moment for her sake. “What…he’s a gyno?” I continued trying to game her to find out how I could locate him. I recalled Paul mentioning he was a Pediatrician.

“…a Ped
,” she answered lowly.

“Where…in Santa Barbara at the Neverland Ranch?” I continued to probe.

She giggled and softly said, “Nooooo…Venice Beach.”

We chatted a little more before it grew chilly and she wanted to go inside and take a shower. As she showered, I sat on the couch listening to music pouring from her stereo while addressing a few e-mails and texts. I relished being out of reach. On her promenade back into
the living room, she was wearing a short, peach colored, silk robe. Her thighs looked juicy as hell. She sat next to me and asked was I okay.

“Sure
,” I answered.

“Good. My head is throbbing a little
,” she muttered, rubbing her temples.

“That’s my cue. Are you going to be okay? I think you’ve had a bit
much to drink.”

She looked up at me with those big brown eyes and made a plea.

“Yes, Azmir, I had more to drink tonight than I’ve had since my sophomore year in undergrad. I can’t handle liquor and I know I’m going to regret this in the morning, but right now, what I need is for you to hold me. Is that okay with you?” she asked so sincerely. I nodded and with that, she moved closer and laid her head on my shoulder with her legs curled underneath.

"Ms. Brimm, I hate to disturb you but you need to combat that hangover that’s awaiting you. You mind if I go get you a few things to help you out?”

She nodded solemnly and I got her a tall glass of water with a couple of Excedrin. When I got back, she cleared the pillows off the couch to make room.

We talked for almost an hour before falling asleep. I remember looking at my watch and it reading
two twenty-seven a.m. The last significant conversation I recall is of her pops leaving her family to survive in the projects. She spoke of how empty she had felt because he had been such a force in their home. It made me think about my own father and what life would have been like had he still been alive. Then I recalled how Mark wrote a piece on the missing black father and submitted it to a prestigious professional journal. It was profound. I never told him how much it resonated with me. I guess Ms. Brimm here was a fellow victim.

I woke and looked at my watch that read
five fifteen a.m. This is my usual wake up time no matter how long I’ve slept. But my body wasn’t in agreement. I rubbed my eyes and looked down at Rayna who lay across my waist. She looked so peaceful sleeping. My mind started rolodexing the many conversations we had before falling asleep. Rayna didn’t appear to be that ironclad, high class, got-it-all, woman that she presents. Actually, I was kind of feeling her being exposed. I felt a sense of protection over her. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself but I wanted to help her out. I wasn’t trying to play the “
Pretty Woman
” role here…but it didn’t feel right knowing that dude was harassing her for pennies that I could sneeze at. I questioned my motive.
How would I look doing this for someone who wasn’t my woman? Do I want her to be my woman? What
is
having a woman?

I never thought what Tara and I had was an official, adult, mutually-giving relationship. It was just some shit I got caught up in and played out until I couldn’t anymore. My thoughts of evolution kicked backed in. I hated when that happened because it was such a nervous feeling whe
n I felt pressure in my skull and my breathing pattern changed. I didn’t want to die rich with no one to love. I
think
I wanted to know what love was and felt like.

I wanted to be Taye Diggs in
Best Man
when he yelled back at Sanaa Lathan, “
I need you!
” Damn. That shit always got me because I could tell that man was in pain. Secretly, I’ve wanted to feel for a woman enough to display such raw emotion. I mean, it was something that I sure as hell never had. It was far beyond pussy. I’ve had great pussy. I mean, the type of pussy that made me drop some cash on a shopping spree or a cruise to the Caribbean. But nothing that invoked any type of strong emotion such as love. Shit, even Petey busted out the windows of his old lady’s brand new Acura when she came home in the wee hours of the morning after being out with the girls. That was some shit I’ve seen men do but I had never summons the feelings to give a fuck. I often wondered was there something wrong with me?
Was I not wired correctly in utero?
I was told that I just hadn’t come across the right woman.

I reache
d for my phones to see what I’d missed. After checking stocks, news, and texts I gently moved Rayna off of me and fully onto the couch. I went into the bathroom to take a leak and make a few phone calls. I wasn’t confident about how she would fare after the amount of drinking she said she did the night before so I called my chef and asked him to report to Rayna’s instead of my place. I gave him a list of items to bring because I didn’t know what she had there and refused to go rummaging through her refrigerator and cabinets to find out. It was enough that I was inviting a total stranger to her house.

Next
, I called Brett and gave him a few marching orders that consisted of pushing back my morning appointments until the afternoon and looking up Dr. Sebastian Adams, practicing in Venice Beach. After speaking with him for a minute, I returned to the couch with Rayna who was still out.

~~~~~~~~~~

Rayna

I woke up to clinging sounds in my kitchen. I almost freaked out until I remembered Azmir being over last night…or this morning. I got up and slowly strode into the kitchen where I found a burly man with a white jacket, striped pants, and a huge white chef hat over my stove. He definitely didn’t match Azmir’s physique. I instantly realized that I was indisposed.

“Ummmm…who are you?” I asked pointedly.

Unalarmed, the man answered, “Good morning, Ms. Brimm. I was told you might be caught off guard. My name is Chef Boyd. I am Mr. Jacobs’ personal cook. We actually met when I was auditioning a week ago. I brought a sample to your office…?” he continued.

After a few seconds
, I did recall a chef. I was so thrown off by his presence because I didn’t actually meet him when the meal was delivered and set up at my office and therefore I didn’t recognize him. “I’m sorry…?” I stumbled at his name.

“…Chef Boyd
,” he reminded me.

“Yes. Chef Boyd. I do recall now. Ummmm…where’s Mr. Jacobs?” I asked tentatively.

“Uhh…right behind you, ma’am.” Boyd gave a slight chuckle before turning his attention back toward the stove.

I turned around to find Azmir towering
over me in my own kitchen. He didn't wear his usual bright smile. Instead his head was cocked to the side with his eyes squinted as to examine me. He was still sexy as all get out. My mind tried to connect to my body and his valiant presence jolted the process. I looked up at him in somewhat of a daze.

“Good morning
,” he greeted before reaching down and kissing my forehead. I felt a heat wave rush through my body.

“Good morning
,” I replied as I breathed him all in.

“How are you feeling?” There was the
arrestingly sexy grin.

“Ummm
…I’ve seen better mornings. What time is it?” I asked groggily.

“It’s about
nine thirty…and I’m sure you’re wondering why my chef is here in your private kitchen…but in anticipation of your current condition, I asked him to report here instead of my place to cook you up some breakfast and lunch. What do you have a taste for, if anything? My recommendation is crepes but he’s known for wicked blueberry pancakes and waffles.” Azmir somehow made it all sound so sexy without effort.

I was bewildered. I couldn’t grasp the moment but managed, “Crepes will be just fine. Thanks.”

Azmir looked over to Boyd and said, “Crepes for the morning sexy. Maybe with a fruit topping and the chef’s specialty sides. And for me, I’ll have two over easy, spinach and turkey bacon.”

“Order’s in, Mr. Jacobs!” Boyd trilled.

“Thanks, again,” I muttered. “I’ll just go freshen up, if you don’t mind.”

As I turned to walk towards the back of the house to make my way to the bathroom Azmir murmured, “I’ll take you as is
,” with a seductive gaze. I couldn’t help but to blush.

About
twenty minutes later, we were at my kitchen table. Chef Boyd served me first by placing a plate before me with three folded crepes filled with cream cheese and topped with some sort of blueberry sauce, scrambled eggs with a diced tomato sauté. Next to my plate was a glass of pomegranate juice. I can’t say that this was my normal breakfast order but my stomach wasn’t corroborating my claim.

For Azmir, the chef served eggs
fried hard, sunny side up, four slices of crispy turkey bacon, fresh sautéed spinach, and two pieces of wheat toast cut into triangles. He decorated both our plates for professional presentation. Mine had some type of green leaves in the corner while Azmir’s had sliced oranges. To say that the food was delicious was an understatement. I didn’t think anyone who fried an egg without burning it could be out done but this man had it down to a science. The surf and turf lunch was unsurprisingly good because it’s not on your average household menu but this breakfast gave me a conscious about ever attempting breakfast for Azmir!

“Have you decided on lunch
, Ms. Brimm?” Boyd asked.

“Lunch?” I replied puzzled.

“I thought it would be a good idea for Boyd to whip up something for lunch…just to leave less for you to have to do,” Azmir cautiously interjected.

“Oh, wow. I don’t know. Azmir, you’re doing entirely too much
,” I scolded but tried using some level of decorum.

“It's no big deal. This is a part of Chef Boyd’s contractual agreement. With my schedule today, his services would have gone to waste. You’re doing me a favor…really
,” he insisted.

Everyone paused and the kitchen grew silent as all eyes fell upon me. I didn’t feel easy about this at all but I was too embarrassed to continue to turn down his offer. I was in an unusual place with this.
Why all of this for me? He didn’t even try to sleep with me last night. Is he going to try later on? What were his ulterior motives?