Chapter 3
becs, chopped cheese and bodega cats
Present Day
Emerald
monday
I’m jolted awake by my blaring alarm, blinking my eyes open as the morning sun shines into my bedroom.
I swipe the back of my hand over the drool from my mouth and search the sheets for my phone to snooze the alarm as it grows incessantly louder.
I pat around until I find it, disabling the alarm I’ve slept through for the past hour and sigh in relief as I unlock my phone.
Our new client would like to reschedule for tomorrow since their flight has been delayed and they’re stuck in Phoenix. I technically can come in late since my morning just opened up. As much as I’d love to roll over and go back to sleep, I don’t trust myself to get up in time for lunch.
There was a huge charity gala I worked this past weekend and I am still exhausted from it. I’m an event planner for Wood Weddings and Events, a full-service wedding and event planning firm owned by Audrey Wood. I send off a quick text to my boss to let her know I’ll be in later.
Me:
Ms. Brighton is stuck in Phoenix and rescheduled for tomorrow morning. Will be in before 10.
Audrey Wood:
Sorry to hear that. The Phoenix airport is a goddamn nightmare.
I’d rather wait in line to go to hell. Lol
Me:
Girl! I’d rather get stuck at the DMV.
Audrey Wood:
You’re on your own, honey! I’ll take that airport over the DMV. lol
Me:
Valid. I’m about to grab a BEC. You want a chopped cheese?
Audrey Wood:
You already know! Everything on it, please?
Me:
I got you!
Audrey Wood:
Eric brought donuts and I already saved you a Tres Leches!
Me:
Thank you! You’re the best! And what’s gotten into him? He hates Mondays.
Audrey Wood:
I’ve been asking all morning who is responsible for this and he won’t budge. You can bug him when you get here.
Me:
You know how nosy I am. Sounds fun! See y’all in a bit!
I stretch my arms above my head and ease myself out of bed to get ready for the day. I overslept thanks to another dream about Mr. R that I didn’t want to wake up from. That night has lingered in my mind long after we parted ways.
Though I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing him during my last visit, I suppose that’s a good thing. Maybe he met someone or the women on stage were his partners. Maybe they’re not and we just keep missing each other.
I’ve thought about it far too much when it’s not like I’d work up the courage to propose anything with him. What would I even say if I did?
“Hey. That was some nice dick I saw you giving out. Got any left for me?”
“Hey. I know we don’t know each other, but I can’t stop thinking about you. Would you like to fuck me sometime?”
I won’t embarrass myself, especially in front of that grown ass man.
Mr R checks off every box for the kind of partner I hoped I’d find at the club once I started going alone last year.
Except, I’m not as experienced as I’d like to be for taking on a man like him and wouldn’t even know where to start.
I stop by my neighborhood bodega, determined to grab my usual and some snacks to replenish my stash in my office. The overhead bell chimes as I enter, the owner, Armando, is ringing someone up.
“Buenas días, Armando.”
“Buenas días, Esmeralda. Your Spanish is getting better,” he says, greeting me with a smile.
He’s always called me Esmeralda, my name in Spanish. I love the fact that my name sounds good in multiple languages. Especially whenever he says it.
“Duolingo, Papi. I’ve been keeping my streak up just for you, my love,” I tease, keeping up our usual back and forth.
“Mi amor,” he says, drawing out the r. “We just had a spill back there. Manny ran to grab the mop. So be careful,” he advises.
“Okayyy. I won’t be long, since I overslept,” I admit.
“Bacon, egg, and cheese on a toasted bagel? SP, no ketchup,” he says assuredly, repeating my usual order.
“Ooh. That was sexy, now. A man after my heart,” I warn, fluttering my lashes. “And a chopped cheese for my boss, por favor?”
“Claro qué sí. Corazón, Esmeralda. Corazón.”
“Lo siento, Papi. Mi corazón,” I say, correcting myself.
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Buena. Be careful. I mean it,” he repeats in a stern voice. “Ethel’s around here somewhere.”
“Ethel?” I ask, looking around for my favorite bodega cat. “I’ll find her.”
I set out to grab my favorite snacks, keeping an eye out for the spill I was warned about. A large puddle of orange juice, and of course, it’s near where I need to be.
In the aisle, I can’t help but notice an oddly familiar baritone rumble behind me, but I can’t place it.
I pause and listen closely as I scour the shelves for my chocolate buttercups, pretzels, and spicy chips.
I already spotted them, but don’t retrieve them yet in an attempt to look busy.
Though I fear I look like a tourist instead, which is far worse than looking nosy.
“What did you see on the cameras?” he gasps, lowering his voice. “And what did Lila say? Oh shit.”
Lila? Lila from Lilith’s? It can’t be. That’s a common name.
I may be the nosiest person on the planet, aside from my mother, who taught me everything she knows. I am running late, but I cannot resist gossip. It’s like Ethel with her catnip. I love listening in on things that have absolutely nothing to do with me.
“Des, you can’t threaten him or beat his ass. He’s your employee and Lila is an adult.”
Lila and Desmond from Lilith’s? Well, now you’ve really got my attention. I hope she’s okay.
“You don’t have any policies regarding fraternization with guests or staff, and nothing happened at the club, right?”
I toe the aisle sideways, closing the distance between us and getting so close I nearly brush against his arm. His scent engulfs me, sending heat to my lower belly and it’s distracting me from the conversation.
He smells good as fuck.
I inch closer and start to lose my footing, presumably slipping in the aforementioned spill.
A slew of curses escape me, but I keep my voice low in hopes to not miss anything.
My arms flail out instinctively, but a large hand wraps around my waist, bringing my all expenses paid trip to the linoleum floor to a screeching halt.
“I’ll call you back, man. Don’t get yourself into a lawsuit,” he gruffs.
“Thank…” I start, whipping my head around to find my snack aisle hero. As our gazes lock, any words I plan to speak scurry into the confines of my throat.
It’s him. Mr. R, outside of the lounge. Fine as hell and fully clothed at my neighborhood bodega. I can’t remember my name, but I blink tightly, hoping to jog my memory.
He shakes his head. “You all good, mama?”
His bourbon timbre transports me back to the first time I heard it, ordering me to come. The possessive grip on my waist ends abruptly, dragging me back to the present. A fire simmers in his dark irises, zeroing in on me. He’s awaiting a response, but I forgot his question.
I’m fucking this up and I haven’t even said anything.
“Are you alright?” he asks calmly.
C’mon now. Speak to this fine man.
“Yeah. I’m good,” I breathe. “Mr…” I pause, unsure of what to call him in public.
“Rodney,” he says, with a smirk. “And you?”
“Emerald, but you can call me Emmy,” I say, thankful my brain is still somewhat functioning.
“Does that mean I’ll be allowed to speak to you next time?” he asks, lifting his brow.
Oh my God.
“Maybe,” I say shyly. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“If you’re occupied next time.”
Armando rushes over with Manny, who’s holding the mop and bucket.
“Emmy, Ay díos! Are you alright?” he asks, looking me over. “What’s up, Rodney?”
“I swear, I’m fine. Didn’t even hit the ground, thanks to my hero here.”
“Wait. Do you two know each other?” he asks, pointing between us.
“We do now,” Rodney says with a smirk, switching his gaze to me.
“I guess we do.”
“Let’s get ourselves out of the way,” he says, resting his hand on my lower back as he guides me out of the aisle.
Armando heads back to the front when another customer arrives through the door and Manny makes quick at cleaning up the mess.
My wet soles squeak against the tile and I’ve never felt more ridiculous. So much for embarrassing myself in front of him. He laughs softly to himself and I resist the urge to do the same. I am so mortified.
I have to speak up. This cannot be our meet cute.
“How do you know I wasn’t trying to fall on purpose?” I ask.
“Were you?”
“I know better than to incriminate myself. Plus, you sounded like a lawyer on that call.”
He lifts a brow in response. “Oh, so you’re nosy too? Makes sense, since you do like to watch,” he adds playfully, in a hushed tone. “How much did you hear?”
My lips part in surprise, and I glance around to make sure no one around us heard him. I have nothing to be ashamed of, but I’m still less of a freak than this fucking guy.
“Enough. You don’t have to worry about me though. I respect client confidentiality and whatnot. Even when I know exactly who you’re talking about,” I add, staring expectantly, and his slight lilt of a smile is all the confirmation I need.
A meow sounds, interrupting us, and I look down to find Ethel rubbing up against Rodney’s leg.
For the first time in my life, I’m jealous of a cat.
I too would like to rub against his leg.
“There’s my girl,” I exclaim, squatting down to pet her.
She purrs loudly, strutting over to brush her head along my waiting hand.
“Purring for him too? We have a lot in common, girl,” I whisper.
“What was that?”
I spring to my feet, averting my eyes, and grab another bag of buttercups for my desk.
“Hmm. Nothing. I said if Ethel likes you, you mustn’t be so bad.”
He gives me a look that reads “you’re a goddamn lie,” but he doesn’t press further.
Good. Mind your business.
“You’ll see.”
“Oh, I’ve seen plenty,” I quip, drinking him in.