3. Fiya
Fiya
Three Days Later (Tuesday)
“ D amn it!” I groaned.
“I’m sorry, boo. I can’t get out of it. This staff meeting has been planned for a while, and I can’t escape.”
“It’s okay, Tam.”
“Did you try calling Chris?”
“Yeah. I tried her first. She wasn’t answering her phone, and then I remembered that she had that important marketing lunch meeting with her client.”
“You want to go back tonight?”
“No. I’m figuring I’ll encounter less harassment if I go during the day than at night. Besides, I doubt he’ll be there during the day.”
“Then why are you stressing about going alone?”
“Just in case.”
“Just in case what?” Tamara asked.
“Nothing,” I replied.
“Uh-huh. You never told us what happened that night. I’m waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“For you to tell me what happened while you were in his office for that extra ten minutes that Chris and I waited in the lobby.”
“Nothing. He just kept threatening to call the police on me and asking why did I do the shit I’d done. He wasn’t settling for that ‘blame it on the alcohol’ excuse.”
“And girl, I’m not buying that bullshit you’re spitting out now. What happened in that office?”
“Nothing, Tam. Listen, I gotta go.” I ended the call and changed out of my heels into a pair of flats.
I was taking an extended lunch break, and I was going to walk to The Smoke Hour to get the heels that I had left behind. My girls were supposed to get them for me, but they had forgotten when they were carried out of the lounge. There was no way that I would leave a pair of nine-hundred-dollar shoes behind.
Granted, I hadn’t purchased them myself. They were a gift from my fiancé. I was so mortified that night after being lifted off the stage and carried out of there and then overwhelmed by the kiss that I had shared with the man that I’d forgotten all about my damn shoes.
Even as I hobbled back to the car, I hadn’t thought twice about my shoes, and neither had my friends. They were too busy giggling about the shit that we had pulled off. Now, I wanted my shoes back.
I grabbed my purse off the back of the door to my office and headed out. I closed and locked my little candle-making shop, Kai’s Kandles, before I turned the sign hanging on the door to “out of office” for lunch.
I quickly headed down the sidewalk, waving a hurried hello to the other business owners I had come to know in the area.
“Hey, Kai. Where are you heading on this beautiful day?” Walter, the owner of the juice shop, asked.
“Just getting some exercise in, Walt,” I lied as I hurried past him.
He had asked me out to lunch on several occasions. Despite the number of times I declined, he kept asking, even when he had seen Terry coming around.
“Hey, Kai. You’re leaving for the day?” Daisy, the owner of the local floral shop, asked.
“Nope. Just taking an extended lunch,” I called back.
I often wondered if she thought because her parents had named her Daisy that she needed to open a floral shop. Or if, perhaps, her real name wasn’t Daisy, and she had adopted it because of the floral shop.
“Hey, Kai. Coming in for some brew?” Stephanie, a barista at the local coffee shop, asked as she updated the sandwich board.
“Nope, not today.”
“Where you heading to, girl?” she called after me.
“Exercise!” I shouted over my shoulder.
Everyone was so damn nosy today. Why couldn’t they mind their own business?
My nerves tightened in my belly after ten minutes when I could see the sign of The Smoke Hour just up the street a little. I prayed that that man would not be there. The last thing that I wanted was to see him again after embarrassing myself.
Not only had I been a little bit tipsy, but I’d literally and figuratively shown my ass. Then to top it all off, I’d damn near cum on myself from a kiss in his office.
But he could kiss so well, and he smelled so good.
I pulled the doors open and noticed there was no one at the front desk. My heart soared as I slipped past the front desk and headed back into the area where I had last seen my shoes. There were some men in there, but the dancers weren’t.
All the men who were there were busy on laptops or having deep conversations. Everything appeared to be business-related, and they all had either lunch plates, drinks, or both. There were a few waitresses around.
I headed to the back where we sat, but I couldn’t locate my shoes.
“Excuse me.” I rushed to a waitress who passed by me.
“You shouldn’t be in here.”
“I know, but I was in here a few nights ago—”
“I know. I remember you. Listen, I’m not getting into trouble by entertaining whatever shenanigans you’re on.”
“I’m not trying to get you into trouble. I just came back because I left a pair of black heels here that night, and I wanted to get them back.”
“I can’t help you. I haven’t seen them,” she replied with a shrug.
I doubted that she would tell me the truth, even if she had seen them. Hell, once she realized what they were, she probably took them home, knowing her big-footed ass couldn’t fit into them.
I huffed out a sigh and quickly walked toward the front of the room, checking beside the chairs as I went. Once I confirmed that they weren’t in here, I headed back out toward the front.
My stomach twisted in knots as I neared the office area. I noticed the night before that there was a large door marked “Administrative Offices.”
My guess was that if anyone did turn them in, this was where they would have brought them. Yet, before I could knock on the door, I heard that voice behind me.
“Sweets. You’re back for another round,” he stated with a smooth chuckle.
The voice that was as rich and smooth as a fine eighty-proof bourbon going down washed over me, giving me all the warm euphoria that consuming a fine glass of bourbon would do. It also made me realize that I was still hungover from that sensual kiss he laid on me.
I spun around quickly.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I came back looking for my shoes.”
“I did notice that you weren’t wearing any that night. Is that a fetish or something?”
“No. I simply forgot them after I had removed them to dance.”
“My girls usually keep their shoes on when they perform. But I guess we can do something with that. The barefooted beauty.”
“I didn’t come here to banter with you. I simply want my shoes, and I’ll be out of your hair for good.”
He stepped closer, and I took two steps back. He stepped close again and grabbed my chin.
“My hair wasn’t what you got into that night, sweets.”
“The name’s Kaifiya!” I spat out.
“Spelled…”
“What?”
“How do you spell it?”
“K.A.I.F.I.Y.A. Why?”
“Like Fiya. I like that shit. It fits you perfectly.”
“Whatever. The shoes?”
He smirked. “Describe them.”
“Black patent leather, four-inch stilettos. They have an ankle strap with buckle fastening, and they have an open toe.”
“Square?”
“Yes! You seen them?”
“I might have.”
“Please. Don’t play with me. I just want my shoes.”
“I can get your shoes to you, Fiya. But like everything else, you’ll have to pay for them.”
“I’m not kissing you again.”
“You don’t need to.”
“What is it that you want me to do?”
“Play me for them.”
“Play you? What the hell are you talking about?” I demanded and placed my hands on my hips. This man was getting to me in ways that no man had in quite some time.
“In a game of poker. Earn them back. If you win, you get the Jimmy Choo shoes. If I win, I get another kiss.”
I shook my head. “You’ve got to be shitting me. You’re surrounded by all these beautiful women. Why are you harassing me?”
His face became impassive, and he snarled. “I don’t shit where I eat.”
“That’s a nice way to express how you feel about your staff.”
“I respect these women. Just because they have chosen this industry to put food on their table doesn’t mean that they don’t deserve respect. They can be sitting around me with titties and ass on display, and that doesn’t mean that I’m turned on. I’m not swayed by every pair of tits and ass that I see, sweets.”
“Then why mine?”
“Don’t get it twisted. You’re fine as fuck, but that wasn’t what swayed me. To your point, I can have my selection of women, not just the ones here. So, nah, I wasn’t moved by that shit at all.”
“Then what did move you?”
“Your boldness. How you didn’t blink when I questioned y’all, and you remained impassive the entire time. The passion and the fire that’s within you when I call you on that shit.”
He had peeped the real me and read me like yesterday’s newspaper. But I wasn’t going for it.
“Okay, that’s all nice and well, but I want my shoes.”
“And I told you the price,” he stated and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I have a fiancé. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but it’s not going to work.”
“Fine,” he replied and walked away from me.
I stood there for several seconds in disbelief before I ran after him.
“Wait!”
He turned around inside his office and beckoned me to step inside.
I did.
“Why do I have to play poker to get my shoes back?”
“Because it’ll be fun,” he stated as he sat down behind his desk and opened a humidor.
“For who?”
“Definitely me. I can make it fun for you, if you’re open.”
There was something about the way he said “open” that had me growing moist. And from the fire in his eyes, he knew it.
“How can you make a card game fun for me?”
“Strip poker.”
I laughed. “You’re fucking unbelievable.”
“Oh, sweets, you can believe that I’m dead ass. I named my price. It’s up to you to accept or not. But I’ve got shit to do. So, if you’ll excuse me.”
“I’m not leaving here without my shoes.”
“Oh, you can leave, one way or the other. Your little fiery ass can get carried out or dragged out. It all depends on your preference as to who I will call.”
“Why can’t I have my shoes?”
“You can. I named the price. Now, I have a business call I have to hop on. If you would please close the door on your way out,” he stated dismissively.
“Kaifiya?” He called with the phone to his ear after I turned to walk away.
“If you’re truly interested, meet me here tonight at seven. I’ll leave word at the front door for you to meet me back here.”
“Fuck you.”
“I’m working on that, sweets.”
I slammed the door behind me and took my thundercloud back down the street with me.