Chapter 20 #2
The screen of my phone flashed with a banner notifying me of a missed call from Ezekiel. Missed call because we were a bad connection.
“Today…is about me,” I declared. “No Ezekiel.”
“Right,” Paisley said with full support. “I’m going to hit up Gray and book a reservation at Room this evening. You can drive there, no pressure, and just have dinner. If you like the conversation and feel him, you guys can set up your own date.”
Room was one of Belmont’s nicest restaurants, not quite on par with Dellucci’s with a hard-to-get-in atmosphere, but everyone loved Room. Fine American dining with some international twists here and there on its moderately priced menu.
At home, in my closet, I’d been saving this spaghetti-strapped brown ruched dress for a special occasion, and I couldn’t think of a better reason to finally bring it out than this date.
Though, I’d always planned to wear it with my hair pulled back in a neat bun, but with Ezekiel’s branding on my neck, that wasn’t happening.
I really could kill him for that. I’d never gotten a hickey before in my life. Worse, I hated myself for being turned on while he’d been giving me it, for loving the way he’d left his mark on me—for missing the feel of his lips already.
Get over it, girl, I coached myself.
“To tonight then,” I said with finality.
Around seven that evening I stood naked in my bedroom, debating over everything. I was almost positive nothing would happen on or after this date, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t wear sexy underwear to make myself feel good.
I sifted through my drawer of bras and found a black lace strapless one to wear from Victoria’s Secret. In my underwear drawer I plucked up a matching pair of cheeky lace panties and slipped them on. After pulling on my dress and modeling it in the mirror, I sat down to do my makeup.
I listened to The Love Below, ignoring the sting of guilt I felt each time my phone buzzed with a new attempt at communication from Ezekiel. He hadn’t lied; the album was superb.
“You’re doing the right thing,” I told myself as I stared at my reflection in my vanity.
Ezekiel couldn’t give me what I wanted in the long run, and it was better this way.
To rid myself of these growing feelings and get back out there to explore my options.
To meet my Mr. Currently Available, because that just wasn’t Ezekiel Marcuson.
Paisley was right, I couldn’t just sit around and wait for him.
Tears threatened to come to my eyes as I hiccupped a breath and my hand shook in the air as I applied mascara. From Norah Jones’s vocals entwined with André’s, the soft acoustic melody, and the lyrics, hearing “Take Off Your Cool” hurt deep.
We had never been cool with each other. Right from the start we were just…us.
“I’m not doing anything wrong,” I told myself.
I turned off my light and let him go.
Paisley set everything up. She contacted Gray and placed the reservation. All I had to do was show up.
At exactly eight p.m. I entered the restaurant and went straight over to the ma?tre d’.
“Hello, party for Parker,” I said, giving the older man in a fine suit before me at the podium the reservation name.
The ma?tre d’ read over the list of names in his open bound book in front of him and tapped briefly on the left side.
He looked up at me, smiling with a twinkle in his blue eyes. “Ah, right this way.”
Butterflies buzzed in my belly as I followed the man into the open-floor plan of Room’s restaurant.
Polished hardwood flooring was at my feet, niche pendant lighting hung from the ceiling, and socially distanced tables provided a busy yet intimate atmosphere.
The more we walked the floor, the more I knew exactly where we were headed.
Seated at a round clothed table was a single man. He glanced around, nervous, before spotting the ma?tre d’ and me approaching his table. Like a gentleman, he stood as we came near to anticipate my taking a seat.
He was several inches taller than me, had a smooth cognac skin tone, five o’clock shadow on his jaw that saved him from looking boyish, and a nice build. For our date, he was in a designer polo and a pair of slacks. Formal, yet casual. He was handsome.
“Your server will be right with you. Enjoy,” the ma?tre d’ said to us both before returning to his post.
Gray took one look at me and a shy smile captured his face. He extended his hand. “Nastasia, right? I’m Gray Forester.”
We shook hands and I took a moment to study the sight of his hand on mine. A strong grip, determined and assured. Nice.
I met his dark eyes. “Nice to meet you.”
We took our seats across from each other.
“Let me turn my ringer off now that you’re here.” Gray pulled his cell phone from his pocket and hit the little switch on the side.
Smart move. I’d already done so in the car, forgoing reading any of the texts or returning any of the phone calls from the person I was trying not to think about.
It had been so long since I’d been on a date, I felt clueless. So, I picked up the menu and browsed at the same time that he did.
“First time here?” he asked me.
“Uh, I’ve been here a couple of times before,” I admitted. Once with my ex, and once with Paisley for a girls’ night out.
“Any suggestions on what to get?” Gray asked me. “I’m still new around here. I’m from Acworth.”
“Oh nice, I have an uncle who lives there,” I said. I brought my eyes back to the menu, scanning it. “I’ve had their burgers, which are really good, and so is their seafood.”
Gray wrinkled his nose. “Not a fan of seafood—well, I don’t really know. I know my mom and sister are allergic to shellfish, so I’ve just avoided it.”
“Seafood’s amazing. Outside of chicken, I could live on seafood.”
“Polo pescatarian?” Gray quipped.
“With a burger every once in a while? Totally.”
He chuckled as he read over his menu. “Think I’ll just stick with a steak.”
I’d just settled on the captain’s plate, a dish of shrimp, scallops, and sautéed fish when our server came for our orders.
She had her dark red hair done in two pigtails that fell past her shoulders. Her brown eyes swept from Gray to me as a friendly smile tilted her rose-colored lips upward. “Good evening, my name is Sabrina, and I’ll be your hostess for the night. Are you ready to order?”
“Yes,” Gray and I answered at the same time. Gray shifted his attention me. “You can order first.”
I handed over my menu. “I’ll have the captain’s plate.”
Gray handed off his menu next. “I’ll take the New York strip, well done, with a baked potato as my side.”
Sabrina tucked both menus under her arm as she jotted down the orders. “Any appetizers?”
Gray looked to me, allowing me to speak again first.
“Uh, the parmesan and prosciutto tarts sound good,” I said.
Sabrina wrote it down. “And to drink?”
“Do you like wine?” Gray asked me.
I shook my head. “No.”
He glanced at Sabrina. “A glass of your best Cabernet Sauvignon, please.”
Sabrina bobbed her head and scribbled it down before turning to me. “Our white peach sangria is amazing. A lot of non-wine lovers actually turn it around for it.”
“Okay,” I said.
Sabrina smiled. “Awesome, I’ll put these in and be right back with your drinks.”
She hurried away and the date went on.
“So, you work with Paisley at the station?” I brought up.
“I’m just filling in for Ryan who’s on paternity leave,” Gray clarified. “I’m a producer, and currently I’m floating from station to station until I find my proper home.”
“I remember when I was younger I used to watch radio interviews on YouTube. I’m never in the car long enough to really sit and listen like that.”
“Right, which is why the YouTube market was so smart as a collab,” Gray agreed.
“Ultimately, though, I’d like to create my own conglomerate, a radio station and record label.
I think genuine Black ownership in the music world is missing, the understanding, nurturing, support, and protection of Black artists is missing. ”
“Wow,” I let out. “I love that.”
Gray ducked his head, blushing. “It’s a dream.”
“It’s a great dream,” I told him. “Think of all the people who get screwed over because they don’t know financial literacy or how to read contracts. Money is important for a business to work, but sometimes that clouds the executives’ heads and it ruins artists.”
“Exactly, like, I want to be successful, build an empire, but I want honesty and integrity to be the root of it all,” Gray said.
I didn’t know a thing about him, but his dream and ambition was something I really admired straight out. Going into something with a desire to be honest and have a good heart sold me on what kind of person Gray was.
“What about you? Paisley said you two were co-owners of something?” Gray probed.
Sabrina came back pushing a clothed cart with a bottle of chilled wine and a collins glass filled with a few peach wedges and the white sangria.
She set the bottle of wine on the table and dished out an empty wineglass, and handed me my wine.
While Sabrina uncapped the wine bottle, I took a sip from my glass. The wine was sweet to the taste with a strong peach liquored backing. Too much of it and I knew I’d be drunk.
“Paisley and I own a clothing boutique called Shéc,” I said as Gray accepted the glass of wine from Sabrina.
He tasted the wine and soon offered a thumbs-up, approving before getting back to me. “Chic?”
I took another sip of the sangria. “Yeah, but spelled S-H-é-C, kinda like she’s chic, because we sell women’s fashions.”
Intrigue lit up Gray’s face. “I like that.”
“So, outside of thinking of a master plan,” I joked. “What else do you do?”
Gray caught my lyrical jab and grinned some more. “Not much, I go out with friends, sometimes we get tickets and catch a football game, and a lot of time I’ll hang back at the crib playing the game.”
“Oh, you play video games?”
“Don’t judge. Don’t judge.” Gray held his hands up. “Warzone is the shit.”