Chapter Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Seven
Jamilah yawned, stretched, and rolled over, enjoying a rare Friday when she wasn’t headed to Side Chic’k.
With both Rashad and Everett out of town for Thanksgiving, and Ed’s sciatic nerve flaring up, she made the easy decision to close shop for the weekend.
Chances were the crowds would be thin anyway, since Thanksgiving saw more travel than any other holiday.
Those still in town were probably enjoying leftovers with family.
And quite frankly, as hard as she’d been grinding for the past year, Jamilah could use a break.
She worked tonight and tomorrow at Gusto, which she didn’t mind at all, because tips would likely be great, and then would have Sunday and Monday off.
The only thing she knew about one of those days was that it contained a mani–pedi and a full-body massage.
Dinner with Dad was strained but welcome.
She made it clear up front that she didn’t want to talk about work.
Yes, part of that was to not talk about Rashad, which is why she didn’t do as requested and pass on a Happy Thanksgiving message to her father.
But mainly it was because she wanted to reconnect with the man that was her hero.
“How’s your case going?” she’d asked him once orders were placed and wine had been poured.
“Oh, so your job is off-limits but we can talk about mine?”
“Only if you want to. Or we can talk about how pitiful your team looked in that game earlier today.”
“My team?” James relaxed, sat back in his seat. “When did you turn traitor?”
“I love the Chiefs, which wasn’t enough to keep them from losing.”
“Even the best quarterback can have a bad day.”
“Think they’ll make it to the Super Bowl again?” Jamilah asked.
“If so, I’ll be there with bells on. To answer your question, the case is going all right. Got to bust up a little ring trying to form in the city.”
“Drugs? Never mind, I know you can’t provide details.”
“I can tell you it’s not drug related but still deals with addiction.”
The wine flowed, and so did conversation, easier with each pour of red.
Topics discussed went from sports to family and her Christmas plans.
Both trod lightly when talking about Shannon.
James had forgiven Jamilah’s mom for leaving him, but he’d never forgotten.
He wasn’t exactly sad the new marriage hadn’t worked out either.
Once outside, he offered Jamilah a ride home.
“Thanks, Dad, but I already ordered an Uber.”
“Sometimes it’s hard for me to remember that you’re grown and independent.”
Jamilah heard the catch in his voice. Watched a look of sadness cross his face.
Rarely did her dad show emotion, which made it easy to see him as Superman.
Beneath that persona, however, was a human being, one who’d undoubtedly grappled with his own demons.
It wasn’t something they talked about. Jamilah wished they would.
It suddenly occurred to her that she’d never considered how it felt for him to be an empty nester.
After leaving home, she’d remained a large part of his life.
For the past twenty-plus years, she’d been his sole responsibility and, as such, his main focus.
Dating officers, or men like Walter, kept Jamilah in her father’s social circle.
Perhaps disliking her romantic choices had less to do with controlling her life and more with her father feeling replaced.
“Daddy,” she said, hugging him inside his coat. “No matter how grown and independent I become, you’ll always be my first love. I’ll always be your baby girl.”
She felt her father’s arms come around her and squeeze tight. “Feels good to hear that, baby girl.”
“I mean every word. I love you.”
He kissed her cheek and with a smile that reached his eyes replied, “I love you, too.”
On Sunday morning, Jamilah took a long, hot shower. Of course she thought about Rashad, wondered how he felt being back home. She’d hoped to hear from him, but when the days went by with only brief responses to her texts, she decided to focus on trying to make the best of her time off.
Anticipating temporary freedom, Jamilah had called up a few of her own friends who in the past year especially she’d basically abandoned.
A miracle as huge as Jesus turning water to wine had occurred when she found out Blair also had the day off.
Remembering what Rashad had said about her restaurant’s neighborhood, because things Rashad had said were never far from her mind, she suggested the group meet up for food and fun at a restaurant near Eighteenth and Vine.
She and Blair decided to arrive ahead of the others, for a much-needed catch-up.
Upon seeing each other, the two hugged like friends who hadn’t hung out in years.
“So good to see you, Blair.”
“Same. It’s been forever.”
“How’s work?”
“Hardest job I’ve ever done. Love every minute. We might get another Michelin star.”
“No doubt thanks to you.”
“Absolutely.”
They ordered drinks, then got comfortable.
Blair looked around. “Would you believe I’ve never been here before?”
“Me either.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Right? Working right around the corner. Rashad went on a discovery tour of the neighborhood. Made me feel bad about not patronizing these businesses. I used to frequent a couple places, but it’s been years.”
“I know Rashad went home for Thanksgiving. Glad y’all worked things out.”
“I have you to thank for that. Saved my life. I owe you.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll collect. How’s it going with you two outside of the workplace?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t play coy. When you mentioned his name, your eyes twinkled.”
Jamilah laughed. “You’re lying.”
“Sure, but am I wrong? I’ve seen real shenanigans go on in these kitchens.”
Jamilah knew this was true. An image of her and Rashad’s shenanigans in and out of Side Chic’k flashed through her mind.
Even now, her body reacted to the memory of his tongue down her throat, his hand searching out her good time with his nature steadily rising.
What she’d been two seconds away from doing one fine morning with that man in the pantry made her cheeks burn.
Only Shasta arriving early had kept her reputation intact.
She trusted Blair, but when it came to Rashad she wasn’t ready to go public, even with a best friend.
“Rashad is hot,” she offered instead. “There may be a little flirting going on here and there.”
“A little? Are you kidding? You need to loosen up, Jamilah. You’re acting way too conservative to own a place called Side Chic’k.”
If Blair had seen her in Rashad’s basement quarters, her big ass in the air and ponytail bouncing, she’d sing a different tune.
“You’re probably right,” Jamilah responded, impressed that she’d kept a straight face. “Maybe one day I’ll take your advice.”
Once the other friends arrived, the party was soon in full swing.
Jamilah laughed until she snorted, got caught up on both local and national gossip, rocked to good music, and ate decent food.
Only now did Jamilah truly get the magnitude of how hard she’d been working and how little time she’d taken to just chill, to be instead of do, to enjoy life and remember there was more to it than trying to build her tiny empire in the restaurant world.
Back home and slightly tipsy, thoughts of Rashad consumed her.
When showering, she imagined his fingers following the water droplets down her body and into her heat.
She touched herself as she imagined he would.
In bed the power of memory surrounding their lovemaking became its own current that flowed through her body like the blood through her veins.
Almost an hour of tossing and turning later, Jamilah was still wide awake.
She reached for her phone and scrolled social media.
Finally, she gave up the pretense of caring about the World Wide Web of information and brought up Rashad’s contact.
California was two hours behind KC. Should she give him a call?
No, texting is better. Her fingers hovered over the keys.
Still missing you xoxo
Sappy and desperate. Ugh. Delete.
Can’t wait to see you. Hope you’re having fun
Read like a note from a mother with a kid at camp. Delete.
The temperatures dropped tonight. Wish you were here to warm me up
Closer, but Jamilah felt that text sounded too safe, too nice. Delete.
She plopped back on the pillow, remembering their conversations just before he left.
Cordial but lacking the sparks from those earlier days.
At times he’d been romantic, a hug here, a kiss there.
But nothing had been the same since she’d poured water on his dreams of setting up shop beside her.
She’d unintentionally damaged his ego. This text needed to come with repairs.
She had to be bold, send something unexpected, something to get his attention.
After a couple of ideas that hovered between babbling and begging, she typed a message that was totally unlike her, yet simple and to the point.
I’m lying in bed imaging your big dick inside me. When are you coming home?
Pause. Deep breath. Send.
Seconds later her phone chirped with a one-word answer—Tomorrow—and three smiley faces.
Jamilah was up bright and early Monday morning, thankful to have a whole day to get ready for Rashad.
She planned to set the stage for a major seduction and wanted to show up as her best self.
She went to her scheduled mani–pedi, then, wanting to give Rashad the night off as well, arranged a delivery from Gusto, for eight that night.
Next, she headed for a salon appointment where she’d told her hairstylist beforehand that she wanted extensions.
Jamilah envisioned herself as a siren who, while serving Rashad dessert, would only be wearing long hair.