Zia… The Lair—5th Floor Meeting Room

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Wren rushed toward her as soon as Greg opened the double doors to the meeting room. Zia still hadn’t caught her breath from getting ready so fast and keeping up with Greg’s pace of climbing two flights of stairs.

Her friend gave Zia a tight bear hug around the lower part of her torso where her arms lined up to Zia’s body. “Cupcake, are you all right?” Wren pulled back to inspect her. It was almost comical by how much she dwarfed the other woman. To see the barely five-foot-tall woman fussing over Zia’s five foot ten stature in stocking feet could be a scene from Gulliver’s Travels or any other giant-among-the-natives type of situation. That didn’t stop the genuine emotion buzzing through Wren. “I had the most horrific visions of you and Greg all night long.”

In the midst of Wren’s concern, Zia felt eyes on her. She gave the room a quick scan from the entryway to see Hildy and Quinn watching her like a pair of hawks. Greg had filled her in on who would be there. She willed herself to settle into her body and focus on one thing at a time.

Wren’s facial contortions were worrisome. Her friend had been impacted enough to make Zia pause at her show of deep emotions. Her goal was settled. Attending to Wren’s concerns to assure her all was well would be Zia’s priority focus.

And…

Just like that, the solemn objective was shot to hell. The culprit—decadent aroma filling the large room. The scent of the delicious-smelling fare made a beeline to her nostrils. The meeting room looked to span the length of the building. Yet, it didn’t stop the seduction of the aroma of rich, buttery, food from charming her attention away from Wren.

Wren continued to fuss over her. Zia’s attention became harder to wrangle as out of her periphery she saw Miss Connie open up trays of food at a long conference table. The effect was to make her a stuttering idiot trying to concentrate on making small talk with all the breakfast bountifulness going on mere feet away.

Zia’s stomach growled like a pissed off cat squaring off with a laser pointer.

“What happened last night, Zia?” she heard Wren ask.

“Huh? Oh, I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I don’t remember. Greg said I was in some kind of trance and in pain.” Wren patted her down as if looking for something. “Wren, what are you doing?”

“I’m checking for injuries. Are you still in pain? We can get whatever you need to help with that.”

“No, I’m fine. Like I said, I don’t remember what went down.” She looked around to see the others had inched closer. “I hope you all didn’t go through all this trouble thinking I was injured.”

“No, we wanted to make sure for ourselves if it would be safe for us to continue to have you here.”

Without looking over to where the voice came from, Zia knew it to be Quinn’s. Ah, it was going to be like that this morning. Quinn reminded her of all the cool black-girls who’d made her life a living hell growing up. Always assuming she was up to something just because they thought she got some cosmic shortcut.

Zia pushed down the angst and frustration that threatened to make her run out of here. She was a grown woman, older than Quinn, and she could do this. Let her get some food in her, and it would be showtime.

It was Greg who spoke up, using a good amount of diplomacy in the effort. “If it’s all right with Lucien, how about we eat first and meet afterward.”

Without looking his way, Zia knew Lucien caught Greg’s signal to agree with him.

The guy who everyone seemed to answer to spoke up. “Yes, everyone, go eat.”

Zia watched with a bit of surprise as everyone turned and headed to the table spread with food without another word.

Another impressive moment.

She hung back to allow the others to show her what was usual in this type of setting. It wasn’t long before she realized the absence of Greg standing next to her.

Where was he?

Zia looked around the room that took up most of the fifth floor to see him and Lucien off in an area next to a bank of recliners and love seats whispering. By the looks of how engrossed they were, she’d wait until Greg rejoined the crowd.

By this time the others had gotten their plates and were seated around the table. It was weird how they’d left seats available in the oddest spacing. She took a step toward the table, and a sense of restraint held her back.

Zia needed to wait for Greg. It was a matter of good manners that she wait until he could join her. She was his guest after all. Yes, he needed to be here with her, but the food smelled too good.

Teeth bared down on her bottom lips to help impose some self-control. The smells of sausage gravy and hot biscuits warred with the compelling desire to wait for him to join her. Catching a glimpse of Hildy’s plate, her stomach churned in hangry longing.

Her eyes followed the arc of Hildy’s hand from her plate to mouth. The culinary magnificence of the gravy-smothered biscuit called to her.

“You ready to eat?” she heard Greg say in the near distance.

Without turning toward the voice, Zia pointed Hildy’s way. “Do you see that?”

“Yeah, it’s a biscuit.”

“Yes, but its perfection. I can see the flaky goodness from here. Ooh, and its big as a child’s face.” She turned to Greg too excited to contain her glee. ““The way the sausage gravy drips off the sides is enough to classify that biscuit as Breakfast Food Porn. Who has time to do that on such short notice?”

“Why thank you, hun. That would be me.” Miss Connie came from behind in time to answer for the southern buttery bread’s beauty. “I heard you had a craving for bacon and biscuits, so here they are. The sweets aren’t Wren’s perfections, but they’ll do in a pinch. The savory fare is all me. So, dig in and enjoy.” Then the older woman pointed at Ajax and then Wren’s man, Matt, and added, “If you know like I do, you’ll get some food before those vacuum cleaners suck it all up.” Focusing on Matt, she added, “I’ve yet to understand how his metabolism doesn’t burn him up when he’s not eating for the amount of food he can put away. I only see it getting worse now that Wren is pregnant.” She patted Zia’s hand, lowered her voice and said, “Pregnancy sympathy eating, you know.”

Zia looked at the man who was a slightly more athletic version of her Greg. Her Greg. She liked how easy that tumbled around in her thoughts. Both men put Chris Hemsworth to shame with their Nordic Viking warrior-god vibes. When Matt put away one of those super-sized biscuits and two bites, she knew it was time to make that move.

“Hey Greg, you ready to eat. Your brother might clean out the biscuits if we wait any longer,” Zia said watching the other man polish off another biscuit.

Greg extended a hand toward the table. Zia marched toward the spread. She swore every eye at the table watched to see what her next move would be.

Self-conscious enough to feel nervous, Zia put a respectably modest amount of food on her plate. She said a silent prayer that there’d be food there for her second trip.

Greg noticed her light plate. “That’s not enough food. Here…” He placed another biscuit, a big scoop of hash browns, four more pieces of bacon, a piece of french toast that oozed with buttery syrup, and fresh berries on top of the heap of food. “You had an active night. Time to replenish.”

All she could do was stare at him while her insides did a little dance like a cast member from the Peanuts Gang. Yes, this man got her appetite so well.

Instead of finding a seat at the table, she was compelled to wait for Greg to finish fixing his plate. A hush had fallen over the room. When she turned to look around, Matt and Ajax were the only ones eating. Everyone else waited for something. What? She hadn’t a clue.

Finally, Greg was done and ready to sit. He saw all the eyes and took mercy on her. Zia had to give it to him, Greg had a fine-tuned radar for subtlety. In a move that was endearing, he said, “How about we sit over here?”

Eyes followed as they took off toward the area where the circle of recliners was located. Greg held back to allow her the opportunity to sit first. Zia couldn’t shake it, but one recliner, in particular, seemed to call out to her. It sat between two love seats. Choosing either of those would have made more sense to be able to share with Greg, but she couldn’t stop herself from walking over to it.

Once she was in front of the chair, Zia turned back to face Greg. He wore a huge grin, and the others had left their seats at the table to come over. Great, the fishbowl treatment would continue as she ate.

Wren clapped and gave a bright cheerleader, “Yay and yes!” in the background. What was up with that?

Greg didn’t move. He motioned to the seat behind her. “Go ahead, take a seat. I’ll join you shortly.”

“Sure, okay,” was all she said sensing he was acting weird about something. Then it dawned on her. “Hey, is this some kind of hazing or prank you all have got going on? Will there be a whoopee cushion or fart pillow sound when I sit?”

Zia positioned herself in front of the oversized recliner ready to take it down if anything or anyone popped out of it. The sad part was everything about this chair coaxed her to come to it. It pulled her in like a magnet. All she wanted was to be able to sit and get the relief the chair appeared to promise. Yep, that chair gave her more attention in this short span of time than she’d gotten from Greg since coming here.

This time it was Hildy who spoke up devoid of any mirth or hint of trickery. “Nope, no tricks. We wouldn’t do that to a guest.”

Coming from her, it felt sincere. Hildy and Wren were on her good side. It was that Quinn she had to keep an eye on. With a shrug, Zia attempted to sit.

All eyes were on her.

She tried again. Only this time, an insatiable urge to go back over to Greg drove her impulses.

“What’s the matter?” Greg asked, the grin having morphed into a full-on cheesy smile.

Zia didn’t like being the center of attention when there was obviously some joke being played on her. Fighting to keep the frustration out of her voice, through gritted teeth she managed to get out, “I don’t know. For some reason, it doesn’t feel right sitting before you do.”

“Okay, I’ll sit, and we can eat.”

She watched with surprise as the golden giant walked past her to take the sit she was going to sit in. Her face must have told a thousand tales with the expression she made.

Incredulity at him taking her seat had her audibly huffing. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“Did what?” He clearly enjoyed this. Having an audience seemed to make him all the more encouraged. “I took my seat.”

“Yeah, but where am I going to sit.” She motioned with her food-laden plate. “I was going to sit there.”

“Who’s stopping you?”

“Wait, what? I can’t sit on your lap and eat. I need room to move around.”

Greg looked past her to address someone else in the room. Zia followed his eyes to land on Quinn.

Quinn had her arms crossed with a look that could curdle milk. Zia heard his voice from behind her.

“See, Quinn, told you, and she’s not in pain when I touch her. Guess I need to bring up the love seat now.”

What was that about? Did they have some secret conversation going on about her? And, what was that bit about him touching her without pain? She’d unpack all these little nuances of the meeting when she was alone later. For now, she had to be on guard as not to miss anything.

Case in point. Zia didn’t miss the little heifer’s eyes narrow as Quinn quipped, “Are you sure about that? It’s still to soon to tell.”

What the hell was going on? She didn’t like the attitude Quinn was flinging, the insider jokes, or the secrets. She was certainly the one being talked about. Willing herself to stop with the paranoia, Zia looked back over to the table.

Miss Connie stood there and made a shooing gesture for her to sit. When Zia shook her head no, Miss Connie made exaggerated gestures for her to park her ass on Greg’s lap. That was not going to happen.

“No,” she heard herself say to the woman across the room. “I’ll stand.”

Wren’s voice floated through the air with a question. “Why would you stand with all these chairs available?”

Her question almost had a hint of accusation in it. This was sweet, innocent, Wren, so Zia pushed that idea aside. If it had been Quinn to ask, then yes that would be the case.

Needing to answer despite her confusion about the strange urges with the seating, Zia answered Wren. “Because I wanted that seat. I got to it first, and Greg took it.”

Wren looked past her to address Greg. He had a piece of french toast poised to insert into his mouth. Zia’s cheeks got a little hot. He had started eating without her.

“Greg, would you mind sharing your seat with Zia?” Wren asked the golden rude ass.

“Of course not.” He popped the bite of syrupy toast in his mouth and patted his lap for Zia to sit.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m not some bimbo. I need my own seat.”

“Then take one,” Quinn said.

That was the one voice she didn’t need chiming in. Zia stomped over to the loveseat to Greg’s left. She had to stop before getting close enough to sit. Over and over the same sensation of repellent happened as she tried to find a seat other than the one that pulled to her like a magnet.

Greg continued to eat as she tried in vain to find a place to sit. Her food was getting cold, and she was getting hot.

“Greg, you know you’re wrong for that.”

“For what?”

“For taking my seat.”

“No, this is and has been my seat.” He gave her a wink and added, “Now, it’s our seat.” As if sensing her need to cry in frustration, he softened his voice. “You’re not going crazy. The way it works is that only those who are supposed to be here can.”

“I know that. Both you and Miss Connie explained how the Lair worked for me yesterday.”

“Yes, but this is different. In here, each chair has an owner. And…” he looked around the room to punctuate his point, “The only chairs available already have owners.”

“Oh yeah, then why did I pick that chair? Doesn’t that mean I own it?”

“Yes.”

“Ha! Then get up and give me my chair!”

“And, no. This is my chair. You were drawn to it because of me.”

“Bullshit.” She was too far past caring about their audience by now. “What does being your guest have to do with rudeness? Don’t I deserve to sit down in comfort?”

“Yes, you do.” This time it was Lucien speaking. He turned to motion to Ajax to get something.

Zia heard the younger guy mumbling about not being the bell boy again as he got up and went to open a door.

Lucien said, “Until we’re able to explain what’s happening, you’ll have a chair meant for guests. As our guest, we always want to make sure you’re able to be comfortable.”

Ajax brought out a sturdy but comfortable-looking chair and wedged it between one of the love seats to sit next to Greg’s chair. For his part, Greg patted the seat of the chair and flung a smile her way.

“Losing cool points by the second,” was all she was willing to say before a string of choice words unloaded on his ass.

“Give me your plate,” he said. “I’ll heat your food back up for you.”

Too done with being the show for these folks, she swiped the berries off and handed him her plate. Her appetite had taken a backseat to anger at this point. He could do whatever he wanted with that plate. Fool with her, and she’d leave and find the closest McDonald’s.

Still, she watched as he took her plate and held it with both hands. After a few minutes, he passed the plate back to her.

“Use your napkins to grab the plate.” She did placate him to get whatever this was over. Greg handed the plate over to her with care. “Be careful. The food is hot.” She didn’t believe him until the plate almost burned her lap. “Told you to be careful.” Then to the room, he said, “Show’s over. Let us eat and then we’ll be back over at the table to meet.”

The crowd grumbled but left them in peace. When they were gone Zia chanced the question, “Mind telling me what all that was about?”

“In due time.”