Chapter Twenty-One
Zamora
I checked the kitchen at my catering spot, but no luck. The décor I needed for this setup was at my old place, along with the other packed things I hadn’t yet retrieved. I didn’t want to go back to that house, but I had no other choice. Thank goodness it was eight in the morning; I had some time to spare without risking being late to prepare for the event. When I got to the house, I pressed the button to open the garage door and saw an unfamiliar car parked inside. I didn’t think Evan had purchased a new car, but it wouldn’t have been my business if he had.
I exited my vehicle and went into the house through the garage door, praying I would quickly find what I needed so I could get back. As I searched one of the rooms that had been redecorated during my absence, I saw I still had too many items left at that house. I told myself that I would get the rest that upcoming week.
“Baby, is that you?” I heard a female’s voice call out.
Seconds later, the female entered the living room where I was standing.
“Who the hell are you?” she blasted when she laid eyes on me.
“Who am I? Bitch, who the fuck are you? And what the fuck are you doing in my house?”
“ Your house? This is my man’s house. Now who the hell are you, and who gave you a damn key?” the petite, light-skinned, lab-enhanced, over-averaged ass-to-hip-and-thigh ratio sister bellowed, holding up a spatula in her hand like it would do some damage if we got in a brawl.
“Oh, fuck no!” I yelled just as loud. “Where the fuck is Evan?” I demanded.
“He’s at work, and I suggest you get the fuck up outta here before I call the cops,” she shouted.
“Fucking call ‘em, and watch them take your fake bodied ass up outta here because this is my damn house,” I yelled, moving past her ass.
I went into what used to be my bedroom, snatching open drawers and opening the closet door. None of my stuff was there. That negro had gotten rid of my shit!
I went back to the living room and held up a hand. “Bitch, don’t say shit else to me.”
As I moved through the rest of the house, I saw no traces of my boxes or belongings.
“I’m going to kill Evan’s ass!” I barked while heading towards the door to leave.
I snatched open my car door, got in, and dialed his number, but my call was sent straight to his voicemail. I sat there trying to calm myself down. I was so mad that my hands were shaking. Not only had he gotten rid of my things, but he had a woman in our home before the divorce was finalized. He had a whole bitch in my kitchen using my cookware that I had zero intention of leaving behind.
My hands continued to shake as I tried to text him. I prayed Evan hadn’t trashed my things, most of which were valuable to me. I hoped the jackass just packed my stuff and put it in somebody’s storage facility. I cranked my car and then dialed Leila, the event planner. I explained my dilemma, and without hesitation, she invited me to her shop to get whatever I needed for the showers I had to cater that day. After stopping at Hobby Lobby for a couple more things, I made it back to my catering company by eleven. My staff was already there, working like busy bees. I appreciated my team.
It wasn’t until I was at my first gig that Evan returned my call, but I couldn’t answer. I had left the situation with his ass in my truck, but his back-to-back calls continued to vibrate in my pocket. When I was in my vehicle headed to the next event, I decided not to call him. I didn’t want to risk ruining my mood for the next gig, so I let my mind drift to the only person I wished I could talk to then––Marcus Colman. Marcus was always my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night. I would go to sleep with a smile on my face because of the images of Marcus in my head, not the asshole who thought it was okay to get rid of my things without giving me a heads-up. The thought of Evan made me grip the steering wheel super tight. Then I exhaled while thinking of Marcus again.
Why did I leave something so good? My time away while in school was awesome, and my experience working with Chef Shelly was great. But would I still have had those experiences if I stayed? Would I have even gone to culinary school, or would I have worked a job I hated just so I could be with him? No use in mulling over the past now. I have surely lost Marcus for good. He’s marrying snobbish Little Miss Vegan, with her flat-ass tummy, sculpted backside, and perfect hips.
“Damn it, Zee! Stop it! Stop throwing jabs at the other woman. You’re the one who chose to chase your dream of cooking over love,” I said out loud, which made me even sadder.
I turned on some music to lighten my mood. I had to get myself together and stop wallowing over Marcus. I had this bridal shower, and then after, I would be seeing Marcus. I’d use the opportunity to be transparent and honest with him about how I felt and anything he might want to know. We could hopefully continue to be friends if it didn’t make things too weird between us afterwards. I’d take that over having no contact with him. As for Evan, I wouldn’t care if I never saw him again. He was a stupid, lying, cheating-ass bastard who didn’t deserve my time, tears, or energy, so I would not give him any.
By the time my team and I finished catering the bridal shower and doing the cleanup, it was a little after ten. Once I locked up the shop, I jumped in my vehicle, ready to head to the hotel. But before I could text Marcus to let him know I was on my way, I received a text from him.
Marc: So sorry, beautiful, but a pipe burst at my East Chicago property, and I’m stuck here handling it. How late is too late?
Me: No worries. Just reach out when you’re done to see if I’m still awake.
Marc: That works. Later.
Me: Later.
Once I arrived at the hotel, I showered to remove the smell of food from me. Not sure that Marcus would even make it tonight, I decided to dress and go to the bachelorette party my last client invited me to, which she was throwing immediately after the more “conservative” bridal shower I had catered. I hadn’t had a night out in far too long, and I deserved it. However, I changed my mind once I put the address she gave me into my GPS. It was in an area that I knew not to go to alone. So, instead, I hit up a spot I used to frequent called Jay’s, a grown-grown atmosphere with ole school music and inexpensive drinks. I walked into the tunes of The Gap Band flooding through the speakers. “Yearning for Your Love” was an old cut that I still loved, so I felt at home as I found an empty seat at the bar.
“Hey, I’m Kenya,” the barmaid said, introducing herself. “How can I help you?”
“Hello. I’d like a Sidecar, please,” I replied with a smile.
She looked familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen her. I told myself to stop trying to figure it out. Chicago was a large city, and we all had a twin somewhere.
After I got my drink, I sat there listening to “Where Did We Go Wrong” by Jeffrey Osborne, and I felt nice. The atmosphere was perfect, and as I scanned the room, I wished Marcus was out with me. That was a spot made for couples, but I was there solo. I ordered my second drink, and then I heard my name. I turned my head in the direction of the person who called me.
“I thought that was you, girl. How are you?” Leila asked.
“I’m great. How are you,” I asked, and we exchanged a hug.
“I’m doing good. Come. I want you to meet my husband and clan,” she said.
I got off the bar stool and followed her to where four tables had been pushed together to accommodate the large party.
“Honey, this is Zamora, the caterer I told you about. This young lady is on the rise, and I plan to work with her on tons of events,” she said, introducing us.
“Nice to meet you,” I said while shaking his hand.
“I’m Ray, and it’s a pleasure, Zamora,” he replied.
Leila proceeded to introduce me to about a dozen others. Surely, she didn’t expect me to remember their names, but I smiled as if I had known them all my life.
Shortly after I took a seat, a tall and sexy man entered the bar and walked over to our table, greeting and hugging everyone.
“Hi, I’m Jayden,” he said, extending his hand in my direction.
“Zamora. Nice to meet you,” I said, giving him a slight smile.
He was cute. No, scratch that––he was handsome as fuck, but he looked a bit young.
“Do you mind if I sit with you?” he asked politely.
“No, I don’t mind at all,” I said with a friendly hand gesture to the chair.
“This is my first time seeing you. Which sister thought it would be nice to introduce me to a sexy woman like yourself?”
I blushed at his compliment. “No one. I decided to hang out tonight, ran into Leila, and boom. I’m sitting with a bunch of strangers who I just met.”
“Seriously?” he quizzed.
“Yes,” I said, holding my hands up in mock surrender. “Up until about five minutes ago, I only knew Leila.”
“Okay, well, I’m Julian’s younger brother. We just reconnected about three years ago. Two different mothers, but we always knew we were brothers. I guess the age difference kept us apart. We found each other on Facebook, and here we are,” he said, volunteering information I did not solicit.
As we engaged in small talk, I noticed how the married couples at our table appeared happy and in love. Other than my parents and Marcus’s parents, I rarely saw happy couples. So, as I slowly slipped my drink, I watched how they interacted––expressing how much they cared for each other through their laughing, touching, and kissing. The way they gazed at each other made me want to take out my phone to record and post a video on social media, showing that Black love was still alive and doing damn well.
The way the men held their wives when they danced and whispered in their ears, leaving naughty grins on their mates’ lips, made me wish I was there with Marcus. We once had that type of connection and closeness, and I missed that feeling. I needed him so badly. My heart, body, and mind ached for him. I didn’t know what to do with myself or how to begin to get over Marcus again, because even though I thought I had, I never did.
“You wanna dance?” Jayden asked, interrupting my thoughts.
“Yes,” I answered immediately.
I needed a damn distraction. Anything to keep my mind off of Marcus. How did I lose my forever? I questioned while we slow danced to Joe’s “The Things Your Man Won’t Do.”
We danced to three more songs, and when I finally looked at my watch, I saw it was close to two o’clock in the morning. I whispered in Jayden’s ear that it was time for me to go because I had an early day the next day and needed to get my rest. After saying my goodbyes to everyone, I proceeded to leave. Jayden rushed behind me, offering to walk me out.
“It was so very nice to meet you, Zamora,” he said once we reached my vehicle. “I’d like to see you again if that’s okay with you.”
My insides were screaming no, but with Marcus no longer single and me soon to be divorced, I knew it was time to move on with my life. So, I gave him my digits with plans to do just that.