7. without dessert
without dessert
MARLEY
I text my mother as soon as I land to let her know I’m safe, then I FaceTime Lo. “I’ve arrived,” I sing out gracefully when she answers.
“Perfect. Let me see the sights.”
I scoff. “There are none yet. I’m still at the airport, waiting for my driver Andy said would be here 15 minutes ago.”
Frustrated, tired, and hungry, I tighten my grip on my cell phone and look up and down the street for a sleek town car. The airport is a mess of vehicles and travelers.
I stroll down the swarming sidewalk in hopes that I will see my chauffeur holding a sign with my name on it.
No luck.
“My goodness,” Lo groans. “Do you think Andy got the times mixed up? She’s been having pregnancy brain lately.”
“I don’t know. I called her before I called you, but there was no answer. I just know I need food and a warm bed.”
I glance at the time on my phone, wondering how much longer I should wait before calling my assistant again, or just getting a rental car and driving myself to the resort.
I’m definitely not in the mood to drive, but catching a shuttle van with several strangers isn’t on my agenda either.
According to GPS, the resort is about 2 hours from the Kahului airport.
Goodness me.
“Besides the late chauffeur, how was your flight?” Lo asks, carrying a brown paper bag full of groceries into the home she shares with her mother.
“Ah,” I sigh blissfully. “The flight.”
“Hold on. Don’t answer that yet,” she grunts. She closes the front door behind her with her foot and speed-walks into the kitchen, the brown paper bag in her right hand looking as if it weighs a ton. Lo plops the bag on the counter and puffs out a heavy sigh. “Okay. Proceed.”
“The flight was interesting. I saw a certain someone.”
“What? Who??”
“Remember Othello Kingston?”
Lo pulls out a mini carton of water from the brown paper bag she’d just placed on the counter and pops open the top. She thinks long and hard as she takes a swig. “The author you met at Gia’s party a few months ago?”
“Yes. Him.”
“Bullshit! Are you serious?”
“Very.”
Lo squeals so loud I have to hold the phone back at arm’s length.
“Of course I remember that sexy ass man! I interviewed him for Mod that one time. His book was on the New York Times Best Seller list.”
“Right. Right.”
“What about him?”
“His seat was right next to mine.”
Lo coughs up her water. “Wait. What?”
“I know. What are the fucking odds, right?”
“That’s insane. You were just stalking his dating profile last month.”
I suck my teeth. “Really, Lo? I was not,” I roll my eyes. “I deleted the app.”
“Yeah, but you kept it longer than you wanted in hopes that he would finally match with you.”
“Girl, please, you’re making me sound like a creeper.”
“I mean, you said it, not me. What the hell is he doing in Hawaii? That place is for boo’d up vacations and weddings.”
“He’s here for a wedding. In Maui. At the same resort.”
“Is he getting married?” Her face looks so repulsed I can’t help but laugh.
“No, his cousin is getting married. At the same resort I’m staying at.”
“Wow! Yeah, what are the odds of that?”
The phrase of the day.
Then Lo’s eyes widen. “Oh, my God. What if he’s there for Carina Sterling’s wedding? Could Gavin be his cousin?”
The idea never crossed my mind. But that can’t be true because that would mean…
“Okay. Wait,” Lo murmurs, cutting into my thoughts. I can tell she’s no longer looking at me, her eyes flicking back and forth across her phone screen. “Ah,” she grunts.
“What?” I ask.
“I’m not finding anything on Othello. Like…at all. This man is a ghost when it comes to social media sites.”
Nothing?
“I don’t get it. How are you this big-time author with no social media?” She pauses. “There is a fan page on Facebook. No Instagram or TikTok. But of course Gavin is everywhere.” Her brows pull together as her thumb keeps scrolling.
I get swarmed by a sea of people exiting the airport, so I shift to the side and out of the way.
“Gavin’s Instagram is nothing but party pics and vacations.” She reports. “Damn… I’ve always thought he was fine as fuck.”
“Okay. Focus,” I say impatiently. “Are there any pics of Othello on his Instagram?”
“None. Mostly pics of himself with Carina. They look cute together, I guess.”
Gavin and Carina? Was there ever an Othello and Carina?
No way. Absolutely not.
Othello and I talked about everything in the past ten hours. I mean, yes, he was vague about some things, and we didn’t talk much about his dating life, but I think he would share if he was the ex of an A-list celebrity.
He can't be Carina Sterling's ex.
I shake off the silly idea. “Remember, this is Hawaii. There are probably a dozen weddings going on this week.”
“Maybe so. But that’s still wild. What did you guys talk about?” Her full attention is on me again.
I give her the rundown on everything we discussed, him holding my hand when I got scared during take-off, and how we watched Love Jones. I leave out the butterflies I’d been feeling since he sat down next to me.
“So, this man is single, single?” Lo asks after I give her the scoop.
“As far as I know. He wants to go on a date with me while we’re here.”
Lo squeals. High-pitched and annoyingly so. “That is amazing, Mar! You need something like this. A man to sweep you off your feet. And I can tell he’s a gentleman. He gave chivalrous vibes during our interview. So well-mannered and well-spoken.”
I think back to how courteous Othello was after our plane landed. When his large check-in suitcase came around first, Othello stood and waited for my luggage before he grabbed it and hauled it onto a luggage cart. He then walked me out front where my waiting car was supposed to be.
“He’s certainly been a gentleman. He took my weekender bag down from the plane, and then carried it while he lugged his stuff too.”
“Where’s your driver?” Othello had asked once we got outside and no one was there for me.
“Not sure, but I’m sure they’ll be here any second. You don’t have to wait. I’ll be fine.”
I noticed his hesitation before he took his luggage off the cart.
“Gonna get my car and come back around to check on you,” he promised.
Reluctantly, Othello went back inside the airport to purchase a rental car for himself, and I watched him walk away, admiring his football player stature and his six-foot-three-inch height.
“As he should,” Lo says, bringing me back to reality. “I love a man who isn’t afraid to be a man. I went on a date with this guy last week, and he asked if I wanted the door open for me. Like, why do you need to ask me? Either you’re going to do it, or you’re not.”
I laugh. “You and these dates.”
Lo had just started dating again after purposely being single for five years. And it looked like her dry spell would be ongoing. When it came to men, she was picky with a low tolerance level lower than mine. And mine was pretty low.
“Treat me like a lady, forever and always.”
“Here, here!” I cheer on.
Another crowd emerges from the sliding glass doors, and I finally decide to find a bench to sit on. I continue my lookout for the chauffeur that’s probably not coming at this point.
“Did you pack anything cute for this date? Or is it nothing but muumuus and pilates sets in your luggage?”
“First of all, I don’t own a muumuu, and second, I have several dresses, miss ma’am.”
“You know? The more I think about it, this sounds like some kind of romance-novel-type shit. I mean, what a romantic meet-cute. On a plane, talking and getting to know one another on a long ass flight. Falling for each other in paradise.”
“Falling? No one is falling. And there will be no romance for anyone on this trip. It’s just been a weird day, that’s all. I swear, I feel like I’m in the twilight zone.”
My phone vibrates with a text. Lo and behold, it’s Andy.
ANDY: So sorry, Ms. Jacobs. I got the flight times mixed up. Johnny is on the way and says his ETA is 7:30.
I don’t have to look at my watch to know that 7:30 is almost two hours from now.
“Baffling day indeed,” Lo says. “But you know all things happen for a reason. This sounds like the beginning of a beautiful relationship.”
I can’t stop the burst of laughter erupting out of me if I tried. “You and your imagination. That man is here for a wedding. I’m here for self-care.”
“Let him take care of that pussy.”
“Not doing that,” I cackle. “But we will get dinner sometime during our stay. Just dinner.”
“Well, you can’t have dinner without dessert,” Lo smirks. “Get some dick while you’re there. You’re on vacation for crying out loud. What goes on in Maui, stays in Maui. You’ve been holding your cards close since your breakup with Trey, and this trip is about letting loose and having fun.”
I shake my head, fighting a smile. Lo is a whole mess. But there’s a small voice in the back of my mind whispering what if.
What if I did let go…just this once?
Nah, sis. They always fuck up.
I’m not going to be pressured into anything romantic with Othello. One simple date. That's it. That’s all.
My fingers move over the keypad of my phone as I text Andy back.
MARLEY: It’s fine. I’ll get a rental car.
“I’m going to assume the silence means you’re considering it,” Lo announces.
“I was texting Andy. And no. I’m not having sex with Othello.”
“Why the fuck not? Have you seen that man?”
Oh, I’ve seen him.
Those thick full lips should come with a warning label: kiss at your own risk. Othello was a beautiful creation, indeed.
“Lo, my dear sweet friend, I get it. But I’m not going to lose all my morals and turn my trip into Freaknik.”
“Hey, what are you still doing here?”
A deep voice cuts through the hustle and bustle and my conversation with Lo.
I look up and see Othello sitting in a convertible with the top down. He looks so damn good in that car; it’s almost unfair.
“Um, Lo. I gotta go. I wish you were here.”
“Same! Have the best time. And fuck that man nice and slow!”
Omg!
My cheeks are on fire as my eyes shoot to Othello. It seems as if he heard none of what my best friend has just uttered. And if he had, he isn’t letting on.
“Bye!” I hiss through clenched teeth.
“What happened to your ride?” Othello asks, already towering over me.
“They’re late. They won’t get here until 7:30.”
“Tell them not to come. I got you.”
I don’t even argue because who’s about to stand around for two hours waiting for a ride? Not me. And after ten hours trapped on a plane, I am beyond exhausted and worn to a frazzle.
Othello opens the passenger door for me, helps me in, then loads my luggage into the trunk of a shiny white Mustang.
A knight on his white horse, coming to rescue me.
I love the pun.
As I settle into the warm leather seat, I exhale, the realization sinking in: I’m finally on vacation.
“You ready?” Othello asks, sliding behind the wheel.
“So ready.”