4. Fiya
Fiya
“ W hat do you mean you can’t have dinner with me tonight? That wasn’t part of our agreement, Kaifiya.”
“I understand, Terry. But it can’t be helped.”
“What’s more important than your promise to me?” Terry demanded.
I looked up at the man pacing in front of me with his hands clasped behind his back. I respected Terry as a businessman and as a friend but not as a husband or a lover. Hell, I might even grow to respect him as a husband in due time, but I would never find him attractive.
I mean, he might appeal to some. There was something about him that some women would love to have in their lives. He reminded me of that comedian Sinbad, who my daddy used to love.
He was tall, six-six to my five-eight, but he was heavyset and oddly pear-shaped. His top half was much bigger than his bottom half, and the kinky, sandy-brown afro that he wore close to his head wasn’t working for me. Pair that with thick pink lips on light brown skin, and he just looked odd to me.
He dressed well, he smelled very nice, and he wasn’t stingy with his money. I just didn’t find him attractive, and I knew there was no way that I could have sex with him. I just wasn’t turned on, and I knew that my shit would be like the Sahara Desert no matter what he did.
At twenty-nine, I had no business marrying a man who was forty-one. He wanted kids right away, and I wasn’t there yet. Maybe I was shallow, but I couldn’t help how I felt. You couldn’t turn on an attraction when there was none.
“I have a meeting with my parents tonight. I’m supposed to meet with them and their estate lawyer.”
“You can’t reschedule that, Kaifiya?”
“No. I can’t. They’ve rescheduled him several times already. My parents aren’t getting any younger, Terry.”
“Why can’t your brother do it?”
“Because they didn’t ask Austin, Terry. They asked me.”
“This will end when we’re married. I don’t expect anyone to come before me, Kaifiya.”
“I understand, Terry.”
“Do you? Because I don’t believe that you do.”
I sighed and dropped my head into my hands.
Terry sat in the chair beside me and pulled my hands away.
“You can always repay me the money, Kaifiya, if you decide this arrangement isn’t suitable for you.”
“I’ll be fine, Terry,” I lied.
“Okay. I have a business trip in the morning, and I won’t return until Saturday. We’ll have dinner then. No excuses,” he stated and stood from the chair. I watched in disgust as he tugged at his sagging pants in the back. The man had no ass at all.
“I’ll see you Saturday, Kaifiya.”
“Okay, Terry,” I muttered sadly.
When Terry left my condo, I got up from the dining table and headed into my bedroom. I climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering what I was doing.
Deep in my heart, I knew no good would come of going back to visit Smoke. Yet I couldn’t convince myself not to. And it wasn’t all about the shoes. It was about the man. I wanted to see him. I wanted to explore the magnetic attraction I felt for him. Never had I instantly been attracted to someone in such a powerful way.
Yet every time I thought about playing strip poker with him, I was instantly turned on. I repeatedly thought about how the game would play out, a game that I had no idea how to play and had every intention of losing.
I looked around the room at the elegant interior design that screamed understated elegance and luxury. The walls were painted alchemist blue, and the ash hardwood floors covered in cream area rugs lent his office a rustic appeal. Two dove-gray couches sat on a large area rug in front of a cream leather-encased table.
A desk ran half the length of one wall, and in an L-shape, it extended into the interior of the room. The desk and the bookshelf above his desk were made from the same ash wood as the flooring. Dim recessed lighting throughout the room created a calm, relaxed atmosphere, and paintings and charcoal drawings of black men chilling and smoking on a couple of walls added to the ambiance.
“Can you give us a minute?” the owner, Smoke, asked.
I looked up at Smoke. Something inside of me quickened, and I instantly chastised myself for my racing heart, my breathlessness, and the way my thighs clenched underneath my skirt.
Smooth chocolate skin looked as if Almighty God himself had poured it straight into this handcrafted vessel. Full lips that looked as soft as a pillow crooked up into a smirk, and an edgy fire flickered in eyes so dark they appeared to be black.
His carefully groomed mustache and beard connected on the sides of his mouth. He was tall and fit, something that I could tell even through the bespoke gray suit that he wore. An earring twinkled in his left ear, and he wore a collection of rings on each of his fingers. On both pinkies, he sported square onyx rings with diamonds surrounding the center stone of one and the letter S engraved out of diamonds inside the onyx of the other ring.
I immediately thought of Eddie Murphy in Coming To America . I wanted to scream Sexual Chocolate so badly, but I regained my composure and turned my gaze away from him before I made a bigger fool of myself than I already had on prior occasions.
A man taller than Smoke stood from a chair opposite the desk. He looked so much like Smoke that they could almost have passed for twins, but I could tell the other man was older by a few years. The only true difference between the two was Smoke had a hard edge to him, and the other man was more refined and put together. Smoke looked dangerous and like he had warning signs all over him saying “run.”
“I’m heading back to the office. Get up with me soon. We need to have dinner,” the second man replied.
“A’ight. Let’s link up at the parents’ house tomorrow afternoon for lunch.”
“Bet. They’d like that,” the second man stated and headed out the door.
So they were definitely brothers. I turned my attention back to Smoke, who now sat on the edge of his desk. His feet were crossed at the ankles, and he casually clasped his left wrist with his right hand.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asked as he pushed off the desk.
“I don’t think that would be wise.”
“Water? Juice?” he offered as he headed to a small bar in the corner of his office.
“No. I just want my shoes.”
“And you will get them if you win the game,” he stated as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. “But not until after you explain some shit to me.”
My eyebrows shot up, and I scowled at him. “Excuse me?”
“I’m sure you heard what I said. No need for me to repeat it. It’s a waste of time.”
“I don’t owe anyone an explanation.”
“The minute you walked up in my establishment, created chaos, concern for the members, and you made this anything except for a peaceful place of relaxation, you bet your fine ass you owe me an explanation, sweets.”
I rolled my eyes and replied, “Please, stop calling me that.”
Deep inside, I loved the intimate nickname. I even loved our banter. His wit and my sarcasm were nothing more than foreplay in my mind.
He rolled his lips inside of his mouth and then back out again before he took a sip of whiskey.
A mischievous chuckle fell from Smoke’s lips, and he rubbed his thumb across the bottom one. I wondered what it tasted like. I wondered if I would have the chance to feel his lips on me tonight.
“Funny. You seem to be operating under the illusion that you have choices here. The minute you stepped foot in my muthafuckin club, you gave up any rights you had. You’re on private property, sweets, which means that you have no rights other than those that I grant you.” Although his words were harsh, his tone wasn’t, so I didn’t take offense to his words.
He walked back to where I sat on the couch and sat beside me. With a firm hand, he set his glass on the leather table in front of us, on top of a wooden tray. Not a drop spilled.
“Now, let’s talk about what brought you into my establishment,” Smoke stated.
When he turned sideways on the couch and stretched his arm out along the back of it, I caught another whiff of his cologne. I recognized the crisp, clean, citrusy scent. It was fruity and sweet but masculine with cedarwood, vanilla, and tonka bean notes. It was bright and refreshing yet seductively sexy.
“Lafayette Street.”
“What?”
“The scent you’re wearing. Lafayette Street by Bond No. 9.”
Smoke smirked.
“I’m in here drilling you about why you ran up in my shit and created chaos, and you’re focused on my cologne. Get the fuck outta here.”
I couldn’t believe that he was laughing at me, and my face flushed with warmth.
“I’m sorry. I just… I love men’s fragrances, and I’m very familiar with them.”
“Mm,” he replied with a subtle nod of his head. “You spend a grip on his colognes?”
“Who?”
“That fuckboy you don’t love but are choosing to marry.”
My heart dropped again when I thought about my situation and what I was facing.
“That’s not your business.”
“I’ll take that as a yes. Has he equally spent bands on you?”
“My shoes you’re holding hostage are just one of the gifts he’s given me. But I like showering my man with things that appeal to him too. I’m a good girlfriend.”
“Maybe that’s the problem, sweets. You’re busily showering him, and somewhere along the way, he’s left you hanging out to dry. Stop being a good girlfriend and present yourself as wife material. Don’t pay a nigga to marry you.”
“I never paid anyone to marry me.”
“Then why are you marrying someone that you don’t love?”
“He did a favor for me, okay?” I bit off.
“You’re indebted to him. What was it? Did he save a sibling from rehab? Pay for your parents’ medical expenses or your child’s daycare? Did he save your home from foreclosure? Your car from repo?”
“I hate that you insinuate those things about me. If I had a child, he or she would definitely have a father. My parents are healthy and have enough insurance to cover them. My brother isn’t addicted to shit, and I’m not a single parent who can’t afford her child’s daycare. Neither is my home foreclosed nor has my car been repo’d,” I snapped.
“Then why are you marrying him?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but he saved my business.”
“And demanded that you marry him as repayment?”
“He’s offering me stability and a future,” I stated, unsure why I felt the need to defend Terry’s ass against Smoke.
“Get ready to sit your ass down and win these shoes back.”