CHAPTER 9
Dilvan
“Nice restaurant choice,” Isabella said, as Dilvan pulled the seat out from the table for her, being a complete gentleman.
He’d heard about JiRaffe Restaurant before, knew it was an elegant place to dine, so he had proactively made reservations for them, even when he wasn’t sure of her schedule.
“Thanks. I know you have good taste,” he told her.
“How do you know that?” she asked playfully, sending him a striking smile, almost blushing.
“Just a well-educated guess,” he replied.
“You guessed right.”
“And you look stunning tonight,” he told her, his eyes rolling down to her cleavage. She’d exposed more than the average woman would have, probably because she was accustomed to being half naked. It practically came with her profession.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Let’s see what’s good here,” she said, picking up a menu, holding it in front of her face, then peeping around it, smiling at him.
Dilvan found her playfulness appealing – as attractive as her features.
“Oh, I don’t eat meat, by the way,” she added, “So, I hope they have options on this menu to accommodate me.”
“Oh. Are you vegetarian or vegan?”
“Vegetarian. I find that it’s the best way for me to maintain my figure. I plan on modeling at least until I’m thirty-five.”
“How old are you now, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I don’t mind at all. I’m twenty-five.”
“So am I.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” Dilvan said. “Are you surprised by that?”
“I am, but only because you have such distinct features. You look like you could be a few years older, which is a good thing for a man, by the way – totally not the case for a woman.”
Dilvan nodded. “Do you drink wine?”
“I do. I love wine.”
“Okay. Perfect.”
“Good evening, folks,” the waitress said. “May I start you fine folks off with something to drink?”
“Yes,” Dilvan spoke up. “Bring us a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, please.”
“Sure thing, and are we having appetizers tonight?”
“Yes,” Isabella said. “I’ll have the organic mixed greens.”
“And I’ll have the crab cakes.”
“Excellent choices. I’ll be right back with your wine and two glasses.”
When the waitress walked away, Isabella said, “You got guts, I see…ordering a bottle of wine before a shoot.”
“I always have wine before a shoot. It helps to relax me, so when I’m being yelled at to look this way and look that way, I won’t have a complete meltdown.”
Isabella giggled. “I know what you mean. I’m looking forward to this one, though. I always wanted to shoot at the Santa Monica Pier.”
“Me too.”
The waitress came back with the wine, popped the cork on the bottle, and poured them both a glass. After telling them that their appetizers were on the way, she walked off.
“What else do you do besides modeling?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I know you don’t work twenty-four-seven?”
“No. In between shoots, I like to spend time with family. My sister has three little girls, and I love spending time with them, especially since I don’t have children of my own.
Actually, I don’t want children. I’m sorry, that was probably too much information. I tend to talk a lot when I’m nervous.”
“Why are you nervous?”
“I think you know why I’m nervous, Dilvan,” she responded, blushing.
“I make you nervous?” he asked, a smile growing on his face.
“Something like that.”
She took a micro sip of wine and returned the glass to the table.
“So, no kids, huh?”
“Nope. I like ‘em, but I’ve come too far to mess this body up with kids.”
“Ah, I see,” he said like he understood, but somehow found her answer shallow.
He wanted children – just not with Gabrielle.
He had high hopes for this woman. If he played his cards right, a relationship would grow from this night forward, and in six months after he ran Gabrielle away, he’d be free to be with Isabella.
She’d change her mind about children later. He’d see to it that she did.
The waitress brought over their appetizers, and after walking away again, Isabella asked, “What about you? Do you have little ones?”
“No. I have one niece and one nephew, but I would like to have children of my own one day.”
Isabella nodded.
Dilvan added, “My mother supports many charities that help kids. She is obsessed with doing charity work.”
“That’s wonderful. What organizations are she involved with?”
“Mostly her own. She founded Padma’s Food House. Have you heard of it?”
“It sounds familiar.”
“It’s a program that helps provide food for kids during the summer months. It’s also the name of her restaurant where she welcomes people for free of charge.”
“Free of charge?”
Dilvan nodded. “Yep. The only thing she asks is that patrons leave a donation in a drop box on the way out. She doesn’t really care how much they leave, but people are so generous, you know.
People who have more money leave more. People who can’t afford to leave a lot only leave maybe a few dollars.
People who are homeless or displaced, they don’t leave anything.
But through the donations, she’s able to feed them and keep the place running successfully.
Her goal is to ensure everyone gets to experience delicious food.
She hired some world-class chefs for that place. ”
Isabella smiled big and covered her mouth.
“What is it?” he asked her.
“Wait–don’t tell me Padma Alexander is your mother.”
A smile grew on Dilvan’s face. “Yes. As a matter of fact, she is.”
“Are you freakin’ kidding me? That woman is a legend!”
“She is.”
“Man, it’s a small world. I’ve met her.”
“When?”
“I was doing a bone marrow drive in Virginia Beach and raising awareness for the bone marrow donation process. She said she does those regularly in honor of the donor who came through for your dad.”
Dilvan nodded proudly. “Yet another foundation she started recently–the G.A. Foundation of Hope.”
“Yes. I thought that was fantastic. I mean, OMG! We need more people like her in this world.”
“Absolutely. She’s an angel.”
“How is your father, by the way?”
“He’s doing a lot better. That bone marrow transplant saved his life.”
“Yeah, that’s what your mom was telling me at the drive.”
“It was a rough time for our family. My father is the glue that holds us all together. We may not get along all the time or see eye-to-eye, but we love each other. I think that my father is the only person on this earth who understands me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if we lost him.”
Isabella nodded. “Yeah, thank goodness her daughter-in-law was such a perfect match.”
Dilvan disguised a frown and asked, “What do you mean?”
“You know,” Isabella said as a look of confusion brushed across her flustered face.
“Padma introduced me to her daughter-in-law. I think her name was...um...oh shoot. What was it again? You’ll probably know who I’m talking about if I describe her.
She’s like my height, had the prettiest dark brown skin, and a full head of thick, luscious natural hair.
She looked like a freakin’ goddess. Gabrielle! That’s her name.”
Dilvan’s chest rose in and out rapidly as he tried to process what Isabella was telling him. Seemed she knew the affairs of his family more than he did. What was going on? Was Gabrielle really the so-called anonymous donor who saved his father’s life? Couldn’t be. There was no way.
“Are you okay?” Isabella asked when she saw how despondent he’d become.
“Yeah. I’m fine,” he responded, then turned up the glass of wine to his mouth, finishing it, then pouring another.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Dilvan? You look a little flustered.”
“Um...”
He stood up, took two bills from his wallet, a hundred and a fifty. After placing it on the table, he said, “I gotta go. Thanks for having drinks with me, and I hope your shoot goes well tomorrow.”
“We didn’t even get a chance to order entrees.”
“Go ahead and order one. It’s on me.”
Isabella looked confused as she watched him walk away, but Dilvan had to get out of there as fast as he could. He needed answers, and he needed them asap.
* * *
Dilvan took a taxi back to the hotel where he sat on the bed, fuming and equally confused. It hadn’t dawned on him until just now that the letters ‘G’ and ‘A’ in G. A. Foundation of Hope stood for Gabrielle Alexander.
Had Gabrielle – the woman he loathed – saved his father’s life?
Back when Colin needed the transplant, all the siblings got tested, but no one was a match.
Other family members stepped up, and when there were no matches, Dilvan took to the streets, organizing a team to find a match.
To get more people interested in testing, he offered a reward of ten thousand dollars to the person who ended up being a match.
But even the money didn’t bring about a match.
Then, one day, an anonymous donor showed up and Colin recovered.
Since breaking out in a sweat, Dilvan stepped out onto the balcony to get some fresh, Santa Monica air, rubbing his hands across his face. He couldn’t rest unless he found out if this was true. He had to know, and he knew just who to call.
He dialed his father’s cell phone number. Colin was in New York meeting with investors and was no doubt in bed by now since it was 1:00 a.m. on the East Coast. Dilvan listened with sweaty palms as the phone rang several times. When the voicemail picked up, he hung up and dialed the number again.
“Hello? Hello? What is it?” Colin answered in a groggy voice.
“Hey, Dad. It’s Dilvan.”
“Dilvan...what’s the matter, son? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay—”
“Then why the heck are you calling me at one in the morning? Good God, boy? Haven’t you got any manners?”
“My bad. I’m in Cali—forgot about the time difference,” he said, fibbing. “I’m calling because I need to know something, Dad.”
“Okay, well spit it out so I can go back to sleep.”
“When you were sick, back in February, and needed that bone marrow transplant, did you know who the donor was?”
“This is why you’re calling me?”
“Dad–”
“And why on earth is this an urgent matter to you?”
“I need to know.”
“Why? That was my question. Why?”
“Because I need to know.”
“Dilvan...”
“Just tell me. Was it her?”
Colin blew an agitated breath. He loved his son dearly, but the boy was self-centered, and wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it.
“Dad, I wouldn’t be asking you if I didn’t need to know, now please just—”
“Yes! Yes, Dilvan. It was Gabrielle.”
Dilvan’s lips trembled, and for a moment, he could feel his heartbeats pounding against his chest with fierce thumps. “I don’t believe this. Mother told me it was an anonymous donor! What do you mean it was Gabrielle? How could it be her? Out of all people!”
“Dilvan, you need to calm down.”
“Calm down! Y’all have been lying to me, and you’re telling me to calm down?”
“Listen, son—your mother told me not to tell you Gabrielle was the donor.”
“Why? Why would she do that?”
“You’re going to have to take that up with her. Now, I have a busy day ahead of me tomorrow, so I’m going to get off this phone. If you decide to call your mother, do me a favor. Call her at a decent hour. Goodnight, son.”
Dilvan dropped the phone and immediately dropped to his knees and covered his face.
It was true. For the last six and a half months, he’d been torturing the woman who had saved his father’s life.
He wondered if Heshan and Prasad were aware of what Gabrielle had done for their father.
Was he the only one in the dark? The one terrorizing Gabrielle?
He hadn’t realized, until this moment, how innocent she was and how incredibly bad he’d been to her.
It punched him in the chest. He felt like he couldn’t breathe for a moment.
He was trying to teach his mother a lesson, but Padma had ended up exposing him for the selfish man he was – the man she constantly complained about.
He’d gone overboard this time. He should’ve been putting Gabrielle on a pedestal.
Instead, he looked down on her like she was nothing. She was unworthy of him.
Dilvan held his head in agony as feelings of guilt consumed him.
He hadn’t tried to get to know anything about her or her family.
He degraded her, told her she was ugly, that she was a waste of space.
He hadn’t truly realized her worth, that she had a heart of gold.
That she was truly a gem. He hated to admit it but his mother chose the perfect woman for him.
He was just too vindictive to see Gabrielle for her true value.