Chapter Eleven
Chanel
“You look beautiful.”
I hated the way his words made little tingles of heat flood my belly. Hated even more that the heated look he was giving me in my off-shoulder, purple, yellow and pink Ankara dress was the exact look I was anticipating when I’d chosen this outfit. But what I disliked most was the way the white Polo shirt and dark black shorts hung on his cut-up frame made me want to say fuck this dinner and pull him in my condo, down the hall, and into my bedroom.
“You look great too,” I answered, detesting the way my voice sounded. I’d tried a few times to get out of that damn dinner. When Xavier had made it clear he wasn’t going for that, I gave Marjorie a call to try and weasel information out of her as to whether she’d intended to invite Xavier and me, like together. As it turned out, my sweet, loving, beautiful sister-in-law dropped a hint that there was something going on between Xavier and me. I had a few words saved up for Tori when I saw her that night.
“Thank you,” I told Xavier as he casually handed me a beautiful bouquet of pink and orange buttercup flowers. They were gorgeous. “You didn’t need to get me flowers. Come in while I put these in water.” I motioned with my head for him to enter, and shut the door behind him. “Did you want anything to drink?” I asked, remembering the manners my mother had drilled into me as a young child.
“I’m fine. Go put your flowers in water.”
I turned and headed the short distance to my kitchen, grabbing a vase from under my sink as I went and unwrapping the paper from the bouquet. I became so distracted snipping the ends of the stems, I barely noticed Xavier was behind me.
“Oh!” I jumped as he reached over my shoulder, popping one of the heads of the buttercups off.
“Turn around,” his deep voice ordered.
When I did, there was barely an inch of space between our bodies. He reached down and tucked the flower behind my ear.
“Perfect,” he grinned, and those shiny white, perfect teeth and smooth skin were my undoings. When I felt like I was sinking, he reached down, cupping me at the hips, pulling me into him for a kiss.
As usual, when our lips met, I lost all of me in him. I sighed deeply into his mouth, wishing I could bottle this exact feeling up and keep it with me on lonely nights. I felt something hard pressing against my abdomen and groaned, knowing I wasn’t the only one who was so affected by the kiss. When I felt as if I couldn’t wait for him to rip my dress off, he pulled back. His eyes had gone a shade darker, and the look he was giving me told me he was as far gone as I was.
“Later,” he breathed, stepping back. “Right now I have a family dinner to get you to.”
I blinked, trying to remember where the hell I was. When his words finally sank in, I nodded and handed him a napkin from my counter. “To remove the lip gloss,” I laughed, gesturing to his lips.
“Finish with those flowers.”
I did as I was told.
“You’ve got a nice place here. You’ll have to give me a tour one day,” he stated as we made our way out the door. I grabbed my bag off the table next to the door, and he closed up behind me.
“Maybe.” I tried to give a noncommittal response, but he just chuckled behind me. I could feel his eyes on me as we strolled down the hallway to the elevator. And I’d be a damned liar if I said it didn’t cause me to add a little sway in my hips.
“Watch your dress,” he instructed as he helped me into the passenger side of his black BMW.
“Going low-key today, huh?” I asked once he got into the driver’s seat.
“A little,” he answered with a cocky grin.
He checked for traffic and pulled out, watching his muscular arms maneuver the steering wheel. A few moments later, the sounds of Michael Jackson’s “Butterflies” came through, breaking up the silence. I grinned, easing back in my seat, putting my head against the headrest. Despite the sexual tension, I felt at ease next to this man with one of my favorite artists singing in the background. My head began to sway to the beat, and I sang the words under my breath.
“You like this song?”
“It’s Michael. How could I not like it?” I answered, and sang along a little louder.
“You’ve got a nice voice,” he said, looking at me as we came to a stop at a red light.
I rolled my eyes. “Anyone can sound like they have a nice voice with Michael singing in the background.”
He shook his head as he laughed. “You’re not one of those women who can’t take a compliment, are you?”
I raised my eyebrow as he hit the gas pedal when the light turned green. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He gave me a sideways glance. “Just what I said. There are some women who can’t take compliments. Always have some snappy comeback when one is given.”
“Well, maybe if people didn’t spend so much time trying to ‘humble’ women for our perceived cockiness, we wouldn’t do that,” I retorted.
“And what do you mean by that?”
“Just what I said. Women are taught from day one to be pretty but not to think or act like we are. We should be smart or beautiful, but pretend we don’t know we’re either of those things because it needs to be left up to some man to remind us. Oh, but don’t get too needy when a man comes along, because then you’re some type of ho, but don’t be too independent either, because then you’re not letting a man be a man.”
“Damn,” he responded, stopping the car to look at me. I hadn’t even realized we’d reached my father’s place.
I shrugged.
“That’s how you feel?”
“No. That’s what I know. And no, I didn’t read that in some damn Twitter thread or Beyoncé album, although her last two albums were dope,” I pointed out. “My life experience has taught me those things.”
“Shit. All this because I tried to compliment your singing. I’ll keep my li’l compliments to myself next time.”
I tried to keep my face neutral, but the play of a smile at the edges of his lips is what got me. I broke out in laughter, swatting his arm. He caught my hand and brought it to his lips, staring me in the eye as he kissed it.
“Nah, for real. I feel you on that womanist shit.”
My head shot back.
“What, you didn’t think a brotha knew the word womanist? Can't I read a li’l Audre Lorde? Now, who’s the one with misconceptions?”
“I didn’t even say anything,” I defended weakly.
“You didn’t have to. Let’s go.” He pressed another kiss to my knuckles before dropping my hand and getting out. Before I could even reach the door handle, Xavier was there pulling the door open, helping me out the car.
“I can still open doors for you, right?” he joked.
“Shut up,” I giggled.
Looking up at him, I reached up to re-tuck one side of his collar that had become untucked. Suddenly, his hand was around my wrist, pulling me into him and pressing those soft-ass lips to mine again. It seemed we’d both forgotten we were standing right outside my father’s home, because this was no innocent peck on the lips.
“Hey, can you two get a room?”
I jumped in Xavier’s arms at the sound of a female voice behind us. I pivoted slightly, Xavier still holding onto me, to see Tori trying to look serious, but the laughter swimming in her eyes gave her away.
“Hey, Tori,” Xavier greeted.
“Hey, X. Your boy’s been waiting for you. Everyone’s in the back,” she stated, pointing over her shoulder. “I need to catch up with my sister-in-law,” she added.
I frowned.
“Cool,” Xavier answered. He gave me another squeeze on the hips before letting me go. He stared down at me, his eyes asking a question I wasn’t quite sure of.
“She’ll be fine. Go ahead. We’ve got girly things to discuss,” Tori broke up the moment.
Was that a concerned look he was giving me?
Reluctantly, he withdrew from me and gave Tori a nod, then headed up the driveway toward the gate that separated the front and back yards.
“Girl! You know how easily your brother could’ve been out here catching you two making out instead of me?” Tori began as soon as Xavier’s back disappeared behind the gate.
“That’s probably because your ass was out here snooping, just waiting.”
“Ouch!” she yelped when I pinched her arm.
“That’s for telling Marjorie’s ass about Xavier and me to begin with.”
Her face took on a sheepish expression, and I was glad she didn’t try to lie.
“Okay, in my defense,” she began, “Marjorie is like a spy or something. She was talking about one thing, asking about you, and it just so happened I said Jay and I saw you the other night at the club and you left with Xavier—”
“You told her I left with Xavier?” I screeched.
Her eyes ballooned, shoulders spiked up. “I’m sorry! My bad. She was talking a mile a minute, and the kids were running around, and I couldn’t focus too much on the conversation, and it just slipped out.”
I stepped back, crossing my arms over my chest, giving her the stink-eye.
“You can’t be mad at me. I’m the mother of your adorable niece and nephew. And besides, you came with him. It got you another date.”
“I didn’t want another date,” I claimed through clenched teeth.
“Oh? Why?”
I rolled my eyes to the side to see another car pull up. From that angle, I could make out that it was Jamal, and it looked like he’d brought a guest with him.
“I just didn’t. Anyway, we’ll finish this talk later.”
Tori’s shoulders slumped in relief at the same time Jamal approached us.
“What up, beautiful people,” he greeted as he embraced Tori, then me with a kiss on the cheek.
“Hey, Mal.”
“This is my friend, Amber. Amber, these are my cousins, Tori and Chanel.” He spoke to the petite woman at his side. She wore a dark pleated skirt that fell well below her knees and a sleeveless ruffled white top.
“Hi.” She gave a short nod to Tori and me as her hands were full with some dish wrapped in tinfoil.
We told him everyone was out back and they turned and headed in that direction. I gave Tori a knowing look with my eyebrow quirked. She laughed.
“Girl, you know how Mal is with these women.”
“Unfortunately, I do. He reminds me of my father, or worse, his father with his commitment-phobic ass.” My father and Jamal’s father were brothers and had many of the same womanizing traits. For both men, it led to them eventually losing their wives. It just seemed my father fared better than Jamal’s those days.
Tori and I eventually made our way to the back where my nose was hit by the succulent smell of grilled chicken, beef and pork for tacos along with an assortment of fruit salad, pico de gallo, corn salsa, mango salsa and grilled vegetables.
“Thought you might want one of these.”
My eyes closed when the deep, rich and warm voice floated over me from behind. It almost felt like my most comfortable blanket had come to life and wrapped itself around me. Xavier held out a freshly made frozen strawberry margarita. I looked over to see a familiar face behind the bar in my father’s backyard.
“Is that…?”
“Joel,” Xavier answered. “He does private parties, and Marjorie hit me up about needing some people to cater this dinner.”
“Everyone here works for you?” I asked, looking around the spacious backyard at the people preparing the food.
“Most of them work in one of my spots, but not everyone. You didn’t give Tori too much hell out there, did you?”
I grinned as I finished a swallow of my margarita before answering. “What makes you think I’d give her hell?”
A knowing expression covered his face but slowly morphed into a sensuous one as he watched me raise my drink to my lips for another sip. When his lids lowered and his tongue came out to lick his bottom lip, I felt my belly quiver.
“You have no idea what I’m going to do to you tonight.” His voice was a borderline growl, and I damn near choked on my drink.
“Xavier!” I scolded, looking around to see if anyone was close by. This was my father’s home! This man couldn’t be saying those types of things out loud like that. Or giving me that look he was giving me.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Everyone here can see how fine you are in that damn dress. It ain’t my fault.”
I had to take another swallow of my drink to cool off the way his words had heated my body. His eyes continued to rove over me as if he knew exactly what was under this dress and wanted to see it again.
I had to look away. I was doing my best to convince myself I didn’t want this man, at least not anything serious with him. But those damn brown eyes of his and the way his dimple was peeking out as he grinned, knowing he was getting to me, had the seam of my panties moist.
“Um, have you seen Marjorie or my father?” I asked, avoiding eye contact with him.
“Yeah, they were inside with Jason for a minute. They’ll be righ—”
His words were cut short as my father and Marjorie emerged from the back door, his arm wrapped around her waist as if he didn’t want her to get too far from him. Once again, I found myself staring at the couple who seemed to naturally fit together. They made their way around the backyard, greeting the guests.
“You all right?”
I shuddered as the warmth of Xavier’s breath kissed my bare shoulder.
“Y-yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked, more defensively than I meant to.
“Because you have that look.”
“What look?” I frowned.
“That far-off, sad look you get sometimes.”
I shook my head, denying his words, even though I knew them to be true. “I don’t have a look. I’m just taking in the scenery,” I shrugged.
He stared at me for a few moments in a way that unsettled me. I waited, but he remained silent, telling me I was lying with just his look.
“Chanel, you came?” A masculine voice sounded off behind Xavier. He stepped to the side, and my father and Marjorie came into full view. They both appeared to be glowing, and that irritated me even more.
“Hey, Dad,” I greeted, surprised when he pulled me into a hug. “H-hey Marjorie.”
“That dress is gorgeous. I was just telling your father how African prints are becoming very popular,” she greeted, ogling my dress. “Elliott, doesn’t she look gorgeous?” She beamed.
“Sure does.”
I tried to hide the surprise on my face when I realized he meant it, and there was no follow-up. He simply let the compliment stand on its own.
“Thank you.”
“Chanel, can I speak with you, privately?” my father asked.
I turned to Xavier, who simply raised an eyebrow and gave me an encouraging nod. Marjorie’s smile fell for a second, but she remained silent.
“Uh, sure.” I turned, placing my now-empty glass on a nearby table and let my father lead the way. I became even more surprised when he led me through the backdoor of the house and down the long hall to his study. He closed the door behind us and motioned for me to sit in the chair in front of his desk.
The room was a replica of the office he’d had in our home growing up. Along the far side wall was a shelf lined with legal books and cases. When I was a kid, I’d sneak into his office when he was out, to read through them. I rarely understood the legal jargon, but wanted to feel like I was a part of his world. He’d been taking Jason to the office with him since Jay was a kid. He talked to Jason about his latest clients and how contract negotiations were handled. I wanted to be a part of that world too.
I dragged my gaze away from the shelf, shaking off those memories, and examined the rest of the room. The huge cherry wood desk that he sat behind in his leather, tufted chair separated us. I glanced at the leather couch on the side opposite the wall with the books, but thought against sitting there. I opted to take a seat in the chair directly opposing my father.
He hadn’t said anything since we’d entered the room. Now as he sat there, a blank expression on his face, hands clasped, I began to wonder what this was all about. I could only come to one conclusion.
“Is this about the Wyatt divorce? If so, you can tell Robert to grow up. Of course, I filed that injunction. Any first-year lawyer wou—”
“Woah, woah,” my father held up his hands. “You’re working the Wyatt divorce?”
I tilted my head, trying to figure out if he was genuine. I didn’t trust my father, didn’t know him well enough to trust him. I knew he was cutthroat and shrewd when it came to business. I was trying to discern if he’d lie right to my face if it would give him the advantage for a client his firm represented.
“Your face looks just like your mother’s when you’re deciding whether I’m telling the truth. She did that a lot.” His voice was eerily low and contemplative. His eyes looked at something over my shoulder. This was weird. We never spoke about my mother. Hell, we never spoke, period.
“No, this isn’t about the Wyatt divorce. Robert is handling that.”
“Okay,” I breathed out slowly. “So, uh, what is this about?”
“Are you and Xavier dating?”
My eyebrows rose dramatically. I hadn’t been expecting that question. “Um, w-we just came to dinner together.” I wouldn’t exactly call this a date that Xavier and I were on, and since we technically hadn’t been on one, I wouldn’t say we were dating. I ignored the tiny voice in the back of my mind that called me all types of liars.
“Now you’re splitting hairs,” he grumbled. “Are you interested in him?”
What the hell?
“We’re friends.” With benefits, the voice in the back of my mind insisted, but I left that last part out.
“Friends?”
“Mm-hmm,” I confirmed.
“I got a glimpse of the way he looked at you out there.” He gestured toward the backyard. “I’ve had some friends like that in my time.”
“Like Marjorie?” Or any of the countless other women you cheated on my mother with? I pinched my lips together to keep that last thought from accidentally spilling out.
My father’s sharp gaze honed in on me, assessing me for a long moment. “Yes,” he nodded, “like Marjorie.” Something heavy hung in his voice.
I remained silent, just wishing for this awkward moment to be over.
“Chanel, I know I wasn’t the best husband to your mother…”
You sucked. As a father, too. To me, at least.
Outwardly, I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Mom’s gone, and you’re in a different marriage now.” I stood. “It’s water under the bridge.” I admired how cavalier my voice sounded.
“Okay. Just, uh, be careful. With Xavier, I mean,” he added, taking in my confused expression.
I nodded, not knowing what he meant by that, or why he would warn me. I didn’t waste much time trying to figure it out, either. Once he stood, I turned and headed straight for the door.
****
Xavier
“You had a good time?” I looked over to the passenger’s seat to see Chanel relaxed, head against the back of her seat. Large sunglasses covered her eyes, so I didn’t know if her eyes were open or closed. But I knew she wasn't sleeping.
She sighed before answering. “Strangely enough, I did. I like Marjorie.”
I got the sense that was hard for her to admit.
“And the twins are getting so big,” she continued, smiling at the antics of Amalia and Jason Jr.. I smirked as I thought about her taking her heels off to run around in the grass with them. When I pulled up to a stoplight, I looked over her hands that rested on her stomach. For a brief second, I wondered what her stomach would look like, swollen with a baby in it. As soon as the light turned green, I turned back to the road, shaking that errant thought loose.
“Where’re you taking me?”
She knew and I knew where we were headed, but I decided to humor her.
“My place,” I answered, grabbing her hand and bringing it to my lips before placing it on my thigh. A surge of happiness shot through me when she left it there.
“Your place, huh? I don’t even get dessert after dinner?”
“Why didn’t you eat dessert at your father’s?” I teased.
“Because I was full. Those carne asada tacos were delicious.”
“But now you want dessert?”
“It’s the least you could offer before trying to get under my dress.” Her hand tightened around my thigh.
I laughed and then asked, “What are you in the mood for?” I’d take her anywhere she wanted to go. The muscles in my lower abdomen tightened when she moaned.
“Ice cream,” she responded.
“You keep moaning and rubbing my leg like that, you can have any damn thing you want.”
“Anything?” she questioned, her voice taking on a seductive note that shot directly to my groin.
I didn’t bother responding. Instead, I took the highway exit I knew would lead to one of my favorite specialty ice cream shops in the city.
“Any particular flavor you had in mind?” I asked as I prepared to exit the car in front of the shop.
“Surprise me.”
I grinned. “Will do.” I was in and out of the shop in less than ten minutes. Knowing the owner, I was pretty much a regular there. When I got back in the car, the sound of Emeli Sande’s “I’d Rather Not” was coming through the speakers as Chanel sang the words, until she peered up at me. The grin she gave me with excited eyes as she took the bag that held the two Styrofoam cartons of ice cream did something funny to my chest.
“What kind did you get?”
“Chocolate and strawberry buttermilk.”
Her sigh of contentment alone made the little trip worth it. When she placed her hand on my thigh again, stroking it, not in a sexual way, but in an I just want to touch you because I can, kind of way, I knew I was beginning to fall for her.