To Each Her Own (The Swirl Book 1) (8 page)

“Liar. You’re a mess. You’ve got more nerve than anyone I know.”

“Nerve about what? You know Maya. She’s just like that.”

“No woman would be like that unless there’s something going on.”

“She’s wanted there to be. But first of all. She’s not my type.”

“Oh yeah, right. Obviously you’re hers.” She stepped around him.

He turned to face her. “Shasta. Hold up. Are you jealous?”

“Fix the transfer, Baby lump. Goodbye.” She snatched her phone from him, exited the bathroom and trudged heavily to the door.

As she opened the door, she prayed that Maya would be gone. She was. But as Shasta headed back to her office, her phone vibrated in her hand. She looked down at it.  

Maya: How was ur mtg?

Shasta knew, that Maya knew.

Chapter 8

Johns Creek, GA

It was ten that evening. Shasta never replied to Maya’s text. She did not reply to Tyson’s repeated
call me
text either. All she wanted to do was go home, and be alone to think, just for a couple of hours before she went out.

She had to face the fact that the married man she worked for, who she had been fooling around with for years, now had the nerve to be jealous of her for dating a black man from the mailroom.

She spoke aloud, “This makes no sense that I even care about Ramón getting transferred or not. I can’t allow Tyson to hold this over my head and punish Ramón, or me. I’ve got to ignore him, be firm about rejecting his advances, and get prepared to deal with who surely know something is up with Tyson and me, just like something is definitely up with Tyson and her.”

After her shower, she put on a pair of black leggings and a loose yellow top, slipped her feet into some heels, then grabbed her pink tote bag. She headed to the kitchen.

She took her phone from the island as it vibrated.

She pressed
Messages
.

Ramón: I’m at my house waiting. Can’t wait 2 c u. Drive safely.

Shasta: Thx. Can’t wait to see u too.

Ring, Ring, Ring.

“Dammit!” The display made her take a deep breath before answering. “Hi, Maya.”

Immediately, with a scolding tone, the first thing out of Maya’s mouth was, “Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing Tyson?”

All Shasta could say was, “What?” She went into play it off mode.

“You were in his bathroom tonight, weren’t you?”

She remembered her ex, Conner, always saying that if you don’t want to answer a question, reply with a question. And so she did. “What are you talking about?”

“You know.” Her two words were impatient.

“Maya, I am not seeing Tyson. That’s just crazy.” Just as she did before, she used the word seeing loosely.

“You are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“How long has it been, Shasta? Tell me. Is that how you’ve gotten as far as you have within the company? After all, you are the only female senior executive at Bain.”

Ouch
. Question. “What?”

“The flowers he calls to order on his own, that he charges on his company American Express that I thought he’s been sending to his wife when she’s out of town. Turns out it’s been your hotel address when you’re out of town. And you’ve gotten secret admirer boxes of candy, cookies, and strawberries here at the office. From him?”

She dared not to address the first part about the out of town flowers. But the second part, she could. “Those were from someone. Actually from Conner from time to time. Not Tyson.”

“But why is it you never told me who?”

She had to fix that. “I don’t even know for sure. I recently found out myself.”

“You’re lying.”

She looked at the time on the phone and headed to the kitchen door that led to the garage. “I’m about to leave. I’ve got to go.”

“You always have somewhere to be lately. Why is it that all of a sudden you can’t talk on your phone while you’re driving?”

“I’ve got calls to make.” Now that wasn’t really a lie.

“Are you going to see Tyson, or are you going to see Ramón? Which one?”

Her patience was shuddering as she pressed the alarm code into the keypad and opened the door, then closing it. “Dang, Maya. You know what you sound like. You sound like a jealous lover?”

Maya had a question, not a reply. “Is all of this why Ramón got transferred?”

“You work for the head of the company, you should know. Maya, you and I rarely talk about work, and with me being in the position I’m in, I make it a point not to discuss work with anyone. So let’s not start now.” Shasta opened the car door and got in.

Maya spoke like she did not hear one word. “So bottom line is; the boss, who is the master, is violating his own company policy by fraternizing with you, and with me, the help. I guess it’s cool with you being white, but since I’m black, I guess he’s got himself a field nigga in me.”

“Maya, oh my goodness. You really sound crazy right about now. I didn’t say anything about you and him fraternizing, nor you being black and me being white.”

“But the bottom line is that you were in his restroom. You know it, and I know it. I’m disappointed in him, and in you.”

“Maya, what you need to do is ask yourself why you even care about who I’m seeing. I certainly don’t care about who you’re seeing, and it’s obvious you’re seeing Tyson. But that’s your business, and it’s his wife’s problem.”

“Yes, it is my business, and it will continue to be from now on. So don’t you dare ask me about my dates, my night, my whatever. Nothing!”

“Fine. I won’t.”

“Fine!” Maya mumbled something. “You know what?”

Shasta stayed calm. “What?”

“I see you clearly now.”

“Good. But since you called me with this nonsense, when the truth is, overhearing you today means that I learned something, too, then it’s like living in a glass house and throwing stones. I’m not the one confronting you.”

“Goodbye.”

Before Shasta could return the word, the call ended.

She simply looked at her screen. She said aloud, “Why are you so mad, Baby lump? Oooo, I wanted to say that to her.”

Chapter 9

Dunwoody, GA

It was nearly eleven that night.

Ramón lived in the beautiful area of Dunwoody, in the Dunwoody Glen apartments, a large community with newly remodeled buildings, a fitness center, playground and pool.

Shasta pulled past the security gate after Ramón buzzed her in, and by the time she reached his building, he was outside in the darkness of the evening, showing her where to park, escorting her from the car, and walking her up the stairs to his one bedroom bachelor pad, holding her hand, again, obviously shorter.

She stepped inside first after he opened the door. “Nice place, Ramón. You’ve got very good taste.” The first thing that hit her was the aroma of garlic, shrimp, and butter.

He closed the door behind himself. “Thanks.”

She looked around at the blonde hardwood floor, the contemporary abstract oil painting in reds, golds and pale blues, and at his brick colored sectional with ivory accents and brown pillows. He had a sixty-five inch HDTV, and a Bose music system with acoustic speakers along an eight foot shelf. He played smooth jazz. The song was “Save Yourself For Me” by Hiroshima.

He told her, “At times, I think these colors are battling against each other. It’s a rainbow collation in here. All I need are black-light posters with Angela Davis and Huey P. Newton pumping black-power fists.”

“No you don’t. This is far from that, Ramón. It’s classy. I’m very impressed.” She put her handbag on the end of the sofa and sat down, pointing to a large framed picture along the wall. “Is that your mom and dad?”

“Yes. That’s Luis and Gloria Vaz.”

“Great looking couple.”

“Thanks. I don’t know about him, but she is a looker, I know that much.”

“Yes, she is.”

He went into the kitchen.

“Sorry I’m so late. Did you eat yet?”

“Oh no. Waited for you. I’m good.

“Good. It smells great in here.”

“Well come on over here and we’ll see if it taste as great as it smells.”

She stood and went to the dining room table.

He walked up and pulled out her chair.

She sat and scooted forward. “Thank you. Did your dad teach you to be such a gentleman?” There were white plates, silverware, bottled wine and wine glasses, a pitcher of water and water glasses, as well as a bowl of fresh parmesan cheese.

“He did.” He stepped back to the kitchen. “I hope you like garlic, because while some people might use only one single garlic clove, I use ten. Just warning you.”

“Good. My kind of guy.”

“That’s what I’m saying. Breath mints await us both.”

He brought back a small bowl of four slices of garlic toast, and a big bowl of the shrimp pasta. He placed them on the table.

“Oh my goodness, that looks so good.” She inhaled.

He sat across from her. “Well thank you.” He pointed to the bottles of wine. “I have this red wine, or this white.”

“White is perfect.” She put the paper napkin along her lap.

He popped the cork and poured the wine into the fluted glass, then placed the wine back on the table.

“Thanks, my friend.”

He gave a nod.

“What are you drinking?”

He pointed to the water glass. “Just water for now.”

“I see.”

She picked up her fork.

He leaned over and took her hand.

He bowed his head and she followed. “Bless this food, O Lord, and ourselves to Thy loving service; that we may always continue in Thy faith and fear to the honor and glory of Thy name, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.” He released her hand.

“Amen.” She nodded her head, taking note.

“Sorry we didn’t do that at the restaurant. We should’ve. I tend to do it more at home, but like I said, we should’ve. And we will, my friend.”

She picked up her fork, not missing his returned friend comment. “Deal.”

“Dig in.” His dimples were at their deepest.

They devoured their meals and soon were sitting along the sofa, him sitting one cushion away from her, more jazz playing. She was comfortable, barefoot, wiggling her powder blue painted toes, and her legs were crossed and he sat next to her, scrolling through his phone. The TV was on
Family Feud
, but muted. The music that escorted the TV was a slow jam mix; a combination of “Nice and Slow” by Usher, and Ginuwine’s “In Those Jeans,” among others. She sipped more wine and listened, feeling full, feeling relaxed. She adjusted the chocolate brown throw along her legs.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

“It’s my dad,” he said to Shasta. He just texted me and now he’s calling.” He put the phone to his ear. “Hey, Dad. Yep. Hold on one second.” He told her, “I need to get something.” He put the phone down, stood up and went past the dining room, down the hall.

Her instincts wanted her to believe that it wasn’t really his dad, that he’d been sitting there texting someone else, and that he went into the other room to talk to one of his many women.

But then she realized that in fact, he didn’t take his phone with him. He’d left it on the sofa next to her. Instincts again insisted that she look over at the screen, and she obliged. Though there was a call that said
Daddy-o
, a note popped up that a text had come through, and the name made her eyes expand.
Maya Papaya
. The contact picture was of not only Maya, but of both Ramón and Maya Turner, hugging, smiling, together.

Ramón came back in and picked up the phone. “I’ve got it. The exact name of the company is Fosters.”

She stared at him, and sipped her wine.

He listened for a moment, and said, “Sure. Bye, Dad. Love you.” He told Shasta as he hung up, “My dad wants to get new homeowner’s insurance. I told him about mine but I couldn’t remember the dang name of it.”

“I see.” She only thought about one thing.

He put his phone on the sofa. “You’d think he wouldn’t have to worry about stuff like that all these years.”

She said blandly, “Nothing wrong with trying to lower his rate.”

“That’s the least of his worries.” He sat back and moved an inch closer to her. “So, the meal agreed with you?”

“It did. It was excellent.” She made herself be nice. “You’re a really great cook.”

“Thanks. Not bad for a bachelor, huh?” He reached for his phone again and typed.

“True.” She gave a half-laugh.

He continued typing. “Dad again.”

When he stopped, she said in a low tone, “Ramón, do you mind if I ask you something? It’s kind of personal?”

“Sure.” He put the phone on the cushion again, and turned to face her. “Shoot.”

“How well do you know Maya?”

“Maya? Not that well.”

“Do you know her away from work?”

“We’re Facebook friends. I hung out with her one night after a Bain softball game we had back when I first started. A game you missed coming to, I might add.”

“Okay. But what do you mean hung out?” She knew she sounded possessive. It was her instincts that made her sound that way.

“We took some cell pics together, and with other people. We went to Red Box after, and she came by here. We watched one of the
Taken
movies together. I don’t remember which one.”

She spit it out. “Ramón. Have you and Maya ever . . .?”

He spoke right up. “Oh no, nothing like that.”

Doubt showed on her face. It felt familiar. “Not like what? Are you telling me the truth?”

“Shasta, I wouldn’t lie to you. Maya and I did not have sex.”

She put her wine glass on the coffee table and turned herself to face him better. “Well what did you do? I mean, did you end up doing to her what you did to me on my sofa that first night?”

He shook his head. “No. She was seeing someone and so was I.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes.”

“If that’s the case, and if it was so important that you had someone, too, then the two of you wouldn’t have been here together watching a movie.”