Chapter Thirty-Six
Thirty-Six
Rashad looked up as Jamilah approached him.
“She’s back.”
One look at her expression, and he knew who’d come into their place, and probably not for the chicken or sides.
“What should we do?” Jamilah asked.
“Take her order. Then ignore her. That’s what I’m going to do.”
Jamilah didn’t trust herself to not go off, so she sent Shasta to wait the table.
When the order came through, it included the name he couldn’t remember: DeeDee.
She asked to see the chef. He wouldn’t be interacting with her now or in the future, and he instructed Shasta to pass on the message.
He hated involving the young woman, but Rashad had to draw a line.
He had to convince DeeDee that he meant business.
The last person you wanted to mess with was the one who fixed your food.
He spent the night with Jamilah. Having her beneath him again, and then on top and sideways, felt like home. DeeDee returned on Sunday just before closing. Jamilah informed her it was too late to order. When the protests started, she simply pointed to a sign near the window.
We Reserve the Right to Refuse Service to Anyone.
“I hope she doesn’t become a problem,” Jamilah said, after locking the door and turning around the Open sign.
“She’s already a problem,” Rashad replied. “I just hope one that doesn’t last long.”
After work, he returned to Anna’s house and called Juke to implement the plan he’d mentioned when back home for Thanksgiving.
“You ready to move to KC?” Rashad asked, after small talk.
“Leave LA?” Juke said, as though Rashad had relocated to Mars.
“We talked about this back in November!”
“No, you talked,” Juke clarified. “I listened.”
“I know, it’s a big ask. Big risk, big reward. I need someone I can trust to help manage the business.”
“I’ve never run a venue like that.”
“Neither have I.”
Juke told Rashad he’d think about the offer.
Over the next few days and in between the catering jobs he accepted to keep his bottom line tight, Rashad reached out to a couple more of his homeboys he wanted on the team.
He couldn’t handle the cooking for two spaces but knew exactly who’d do the job right.
Other key positions included scheduling and security.
Leon was over all things gaming. He hadn’t stopped planning and creating since the first mention in October.
Mr. Turner agreed to oversee the staff that would work with those from the system.
Tyson agreed to temporarily act as a floater and handle everything else.
In between cooking, constructing, and constant coordinating, Rashad and Jamilah tried to have a life.
After almost a month went by where they barely saw each other outside of the kitchen or the construction site next door, when neither could remember how long it had been since they’d had a real conversation that didn’t somehow involve food, they scheduled a date night.
They couldn’t completely escape talking about work, but the couple’s package purchased at a spa in the suburbs helped them work out all kinds of kinks.
“Is it supposed to be this hot?” Rashad had been ready to enter the highly touted Himalayan salt sauna, but the blast of heat changed his mind.
“All right, Mr. California. I thought you liked hot?”
“Yes, but not hell. It’s hell-hot in there.”
“Are you gonna let a woman experience something you can’t handle?” Jamilah brushed past him and took his hand. “You’ll get used to it. And you’ll love it.”
“Or I’ll come out like my chicken. Fried to a crisp.”
Once Rashad acclimated to the temperature and quit complaining, he relaxed against a pillow.
“I thought the massage was going to be the best part of this. I haven’t sweated this much since working out at Venice Beach.”
“What about last night?” Jamilah teased.
“Just a warm-up.” He tied his locs with a leather band. “I can almost feel the toxins running out of my pores.”
Jamilah poured water on the salt rocks, then leaned forward for the steam bath on her face. “I got a call from Anna.”
“About the line, no doubt.”
“She’s so excited. Monique, too. She said she felt bad for asking but wanted me to know that if I had any spare time as July approaches, they’ll need all hands on deck.”
“How hard can it be to line people up in teams of two and get them to dance down the street?”
“I have a feeling I’m about to find out.”
Jamilah lay back on the cedar bench and allowed her body to fully relax. She could have cursed when the face that floated into her conscious was surrounded by a halo of blond-tinted hair.
Instead of running away from the troubling thought, she said, “Haven’t seen the Stalker in a while. When was the last time?”
“I thought we were supposed to be relaxing. And here you go rattling my nerves.”
“Sorry. She just popped up in my mind.”
The Right to Refuse sign hadn’t deterred DeeDee from her mission.
She came back several times. After trying and failing to get Rashad to come out, she’d post up at the table with the most direct line of sight to the kitchen and try to get noticed.
Wintertime didn’t prevent her from dressing inappropriately in catsuits that left nothing to the imagination or tops that barely held in her breasts.
One day Jamilah realized she hadn’t seen DeeDee at all, now labeled the Stalker.
A day turned into a week. And then two. And now almost a month.
“I told you that eventually she’d get tired of coming around. A woman like that needs attention. She wasn’t going to get it from me.”
“Speaking of women, I’m kinda nervous about the meeting coming up at the detention center.”
“Baby, that was one helluva segue.”
“Ha! Guess thinking about how crazy she acted made me wonder what choices all those young women made that landed them in the system.
“I don’t mean to sound bougie, but I don’t know what that life is like, can’t imagine participating in an action to land me behind bars. What can I share that will make their lives better?”
“You can tell them your story. Everyone dreams. Share yours. How it started with watching the Food Network when you were a kid and you imagining being on TV. Talk about your ups and downs, the struggles you went through in opening up a business. Think of something that all women have in common. Like your obsession with men. You can tell them how I came into your life, swept you off your feet, and made you the happiest woman on the planet.”
Instead of balking, Jamilah slid over and gave Rashad a kiss. “Now it’s time for the cold treatment. Let’s go jump in the pool.”
Rashad and Jamilah left the spa with two new bodies.
“We’ve got to do that once a month,” she said.
“At least,” he agreed and sealed the promise with a fist pound.
In the car, Jamilah’s phone rang. “Hey, Daddy.” She looked at Rashad. “No, I’m not at home right now. Is everything okay? Ah, you saw the construction. That’s going to be Rashad’s music and gaming venue. I’ve wanted to speak with you about it, but you haven’t had time.”
Shaking her head she said, “There will be food served, but it won’t be competition. Different hours, menus, customer base. It’s not just him. There’s a team working with us to ensure the success of both businesses.”
Jamilah rolled her eyes. “Yes, Daddy, I said us. Rashad and I are partners. In business,” she hurriedly added as Rashad slid a hand between her thighs.
Jamilah swatted his hand. “It’s been forever since you’ve patronized my establishment. I’m starting to take it personal…” She nodded. “Okay, this Sunday. See you then.”
“Still not ready to tell Daddy that I’m banging his daughter?” Rashad teased.
“He already knows. I’m sure Ed told him.”
“Ed knows?”
“I never told you what he said?”
“No.”
She repeated Ed’s Stevie Wonder line.
“Are you ever going to confront your pops about his daddy?”
“I’ve asked him. Vocally and in writing. Maybe one day he’ll tell me. For now it’s enough that we’re talking again and he’s ready to eat food that you cooked.”