Chapter Twenty-One
Twenty-One
Jamilah stood transfixed by her own worst-case scenario.
This was not how she’d wanted her dad to meet Rashad.
There was supposed to have been a conversation.
An explanation over lunch or dinner. Perhaps softened with her dad’s favorite bourbon or a glass of red wine.
She was supposed to convince him with themes of forgiveness and compassion and second and third chances.
Instead she watched as World War Three looked about to break out.
Sheesh! Time to try and wave the white flag.
“Dad, this is—”
“Rashad White?”
“That’s right,” Rashad answered, even though James aimed the question at his daughter. He stepped toward him with his hand outstretched.
James eyed the hand, then Rashad, then Jamilah. Nothing else moved.
Rashad shrugged, stood straighter, and placed a sly hand on the small of Jamilah’s back. His strength flowed from his hand to her. She stood straighter, too.
“What’s he doing here, Jamilah?”
“I work here.”
“Does it look like I’m talking to you?”
“You more comfortable talking about me? Like the other night with her on the phone?”
Jamilah watched in awe as Rashad took control of a conversation that with every other human being on the planet her father would own, then watched her dad try to regain it.
James offered a sneer. “Clearly, you haven’t learned to respect your elders, or the law.”
“Where I come from,” Rashad replied with a casual lean against the counter, which somewhat shifted the air in the room, “respect isn’t learned, it’s earned.
That’s how my granny taught me. But even for those who haven’t shown themselves worthy,” he paused to let that particular choice of words sink in, “I’ve learned to not let my ego be so big that I can’t apologize when that’s the right thing to do.
Even though you were wrong for stating facts without knowing truth, I’m sorry for cussing you out that night.
I wouldn’t have spoken that way if I’d known it was you. ”
Jamilah offered Rashad a grateful smile. He acknowledged it with a slight nod.
James fixed Rashad with an unreadable look, then said, “Jamilah, I need to speak with you.”
“Did you hear Rashad, Daddy? He apologized for his rude behavior.”
“Did you hear me? We need to talk. Now.”
“We open in just over an hour.”
“This won’t take long.” James turned and left the kitchen without waiting for a reply.
“I’ll be right back,” Jamilah told Rashad, then followed her father out of the kitchen.
They went into the pantry. Jamilah closed the door.
“I already know what you’re thinking,” she began, her hands up in a sign of surrender.
“You have no idea what’s on my mind.”
“I know you don’t like him, Daddy, but—”
“This isn’t about me liking somebody.” James used air quotes on his emphasized word. “I know what type of character you’re dealing with. He’s already affecting your behavior.”
“How so?”
“How? You lied to me. When is the last time that happened?”
Jamilah worked to keep her voice low and calm. The walls had ears, and if Rashad pressed his against the wall hard enough, he’d hear every word.
“I never lied to you.”
“When I asked if he was still working here, what did you tell me?”
“That Ed was helping me, and a few others. For one weekend, that was true. I didn’t have to fire Rashad. If you’ll remember, he quit after hearing your tirade. But after a long conversation with Blair and a sit with my conscience, I did what was right. For the business. And for myself.”
“You wouldn’t have this business if not for me.”
“I’d be nothing without you, Daddy.” Tears sprang into her eyes. She didn’t try to stop them. “You stayed when Mom left. Raised me, taught me everything I know, including how to think for myself, how to make sound choices, how to follow my gut.
“Daddy, I appreciate all your help in opening this restaurant. I also see how now you’re using that assistance to try to control how I run it, the same way you’ve controlled other parts of my life.”
“Listen, Jamilah—”
“Please, let me finish. I’m not blaming you for being overprotective.
I know your actions come out of love. But I’m almost thirty years old.
It’s time for me to make my own rules. To live or die by my own choices.
If you can’t trust Rashad, I’m asking you to trust your daughter.
Give me a chance to prove that I’m not an imbecile and can think for myself. ”
She watched as James processed what she’d said, felt him battle his emotions.
“I don’t like this, Jamilah.”
“I know.”
“You’re inviting trouble with him around.”
“What he’s done isn’t who he is.”
“I don’t feel you’re safe with him working here.”
Jamilah had never felt safer. “I’m sorry you’re upset.
But since being hired, Rashad has only made the business better.
He’s an exceptional cook. Gets along well with the staff and customers.
The tech company we catered for loved him.
The reality of the man working here doesn’t match what’s shown on paper. ”
James’s eyes narrowed. “Are you into this guy romantically?”
She wanted to say that who she was or wasn’t into was none of her father’s business. She wanted to ask him if he was into anyone romantically, and if so, whether she had a right to know the details. She wanted to tell him to mind his own business. She didn’t want to lie.
“What Rashad and I have in common is keeping the doors open. I’ve given this place the last few years of my life. Gainful employment is a condition of his parole. Neither one of us can afford to see it fail.”
“In the near thirty years you’ve been on this earth, I’ve never known you to defy me.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy, but honestly… I did what I had to do.”
He looked at her intently, his expression unreadable, then left without a word.
Jamilah slumped against the shelving holding dry ingredients and canned goods. She could have released a lifetime of tears, but one look at the clock and she shelved that emotion. Time was ticking. She had a business to operate.
After splashes of cold water in the restroom to try and reset, Jamilah squared her shoulders and walked into the kitchen.
Rashad looked over his shoulder. “You all right?”
“I’m fine.” She reached for trays and began filling them with the day’s sides.
“You sure?”
“I said yes.” Jamilah hadn’t meant to snap. Clearly, her father’s words had affected her more than she cared to admit.
They worked silently side by side until the crew arrived and business began.
Thankfully, it was another busy day. Jamilah noticed a couple people from the tech event and a few tables of first-time customers scattered among more familiar faces.
On the outside, she was the hostess with the mostest, the server with a smile, the pleasant one with a constant conversation.
Inside, she barely held it together. Jamilah knew the kitchen was much too small to accommodate the elephant taking up space.
Hours later, Jamilah bid farewell to the last customer and locked the door.
She entered the kitchen where Rashad and Everett were having a friendly conversation about sports.
When he saw her, however, Everett beat a hasty exit.
One would have had to be clueless or dead to not have felt the tension that hung in the kitchen all afternoon.
“Your Surprise Sides idea was a hit,” Jamilah said, hoping to steer the conversation in a positive direction…
and keep it there. “And the Surprise Sides Walking, adding the two chicken legs? That was the most popular to-go order. We’ve never had this much walk-up traffic. They were flying out the door.”
Rashad nodded but continued methodically cleaning his station.
His body language transmitted being troubled, upset. Not surprising. Her dad had run more than one man away with his commanding persona. She hoped Rashad would be different. If not, it was just as well to find out sooner than later. Before they became lovers. Life would go on.
Maybe.
“We sold out of the potato boats.” Jamilah went into the back for storage containers, then retrieved a couple trays and began transferring leftover sides.
“Surprisingly, we sold more macaroni salad than macaroni and cheese. Until now that dish was one of our biggest sellers. You’re really adding to this business, Ra—”
“You’re really gonna do this? Act like the most important thing we have to discuss are chicken legs and side dishes?”
“No. I need to apologize. I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. And about my dad…”
“It’s not about your pops. It’s hard to do, but I can’t take what he says or does personally. You’re his daughter, his little princess. He’s being protective, as he should. Plus, he’s law enforcement. So by design, he has to be an asshole.”
“No, you didn’t just call my dad—”
“I did. And if you were being truthful, you’d have to admit you’ve seen that side of him, too.”
Jamilah reached for a cloth and began wiping the counter. “My conversation with Daddy was very upsetting.”
“What’d he say?”
She paused midswipe. “Do you really want to know?”
“I asked, didn’t I?”
“It’s what I said that matters.”
“What was that?”
Jamilah finished cleaning the counter, then tossed the throwaway towel. “That this is my business, and as long as I’m running it, you’re the head chef.”
“You didn’t talk that smack to pops,” Rashad said.
“I might be paraphrasing a little, but that’s basically what I said.”
“So he’s cool with me working here.”
“No, but I am.”
Actually, Jamilah’s heart was breaking. She’d never been this at odds with her dad before.
Rashad walked over, pulled her close, and kissed her gently on the lips.
And like a parent kissing a boo-boo, a bit of her pain eased away.
Back at home, the ten o’clock news went off, and Jamilah was still traumatized.
She’d wallowed in sadness, allowed herself a good cry, then pulled on a pair of chenille PJs, popped some corn and fixed some tea.
She’d plopped in front of her sixty-five-inch distraction, one she hoped would clear her mind of the other inches she imagined swung between the legs of her cook.
She’d shut out what she believed was her dad’s disappointment and prayed for sleep to come on the couch.
The bed was just too big to occupy alone.
Another hour and her thoughts were less about her father and more about her cook.
She couldn’t stop thinking about how he made her feel.
How a few words and a light kiss had worked better than ibuprofen.
And if she felt that good with only a kiss, how much better to enjoy his whole body?
Those crazy thoughts she shouldn’t entertain returned.
She attempted mental reasoning with thoughts like him being her employee, of not trying to be a booty call, of keeping their relationship professional, of wishing she was into vibrators.
She wasn’t, and the thoughts were no deterrent for what she wanted.
Jamilah decided to take her own advice, to live or die by her own choices, no matter how reasonable or insane.
She made one now, threw off the comforter, and walked into the bedroom.
She quickly touched up her ponytail, changed out of her oversize PJs, slid on a pair of boots and returned to the living room for her coat and purse.
Before heading out she sent a text to Leon.
Jamilah reached her car. Got in and took a breath.
A part of her wondered what the heck was she doing, but the part that kept replaying what happened earlier knew it was time to choose a different action to get a different result.
Her world had been shaped by her father, the most influential man in her life.
It was time to influence her own destiny.
Her phone pinged. Leon had texted back with Rashad’s address.
She backed out of the garage and headed to Anna’s house.
For once, Jamilah decided to not overthink but instead to follow her heart.
To experience life on her own terms, not that of others.
To live up to Rashad’s nickname and be her own boss.