Chocolate Dove (11 page)

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Authors: Cas Sigers

BOOK: Chocolate Dove
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“I have to end it,” she said aloud. “But first, I have to call Lucia.”
Basra was able to reach Lucia and she couldn't wait to spill the beans about Adam.
Lucia laughed fiercely as Basra told her about the night. “Don't you love it!” she yelped. “I have three or four guys like that, and I work out all of my frustration on them.”
“Isn't it weird though?” Basra asked.
“I don't judge. It's the way they cope. He probably has a high-stress job, something with a lot of power.”
“He does something in finances.”
“Well, if you see him again, get in some licks for me. I'm for real, beat his ass.”
Basra burst into laughter.
“So are you still going to see the guy who comes into town once a week from Philly? He's one of Sloan's clients. She had another girl on him, but now she needs someone else. You want to do it?”
“All he wants is dinner?” she asked.
“Yep. Sloan said he's a little weird, one of those loners with no friends.”
“How did he get his money?”
“Inheritance, I think,” replied Lucia.
“Why don't you do it?” questioned Basra.
“I'm not giving up my Friday nights for fifteen hundred.”
“It's not all night, right? It's just dinner.”
“No, but I travel on the weekends. I think this would be perfect for you.”
“Yeah, it could be. It's six grand a month. He comes every Friday?”
“So far. And Sloan pays out on the next day. She just needs your account information.”
“Okay, cool. I'll do it this Friday and see how I feel.”
“Great. She'll call you.”
“All right. Gotta go. I'll call you later.” They disconnected.
Basra stripped and poured her bathwater. She filled the tub with fragrant bubbles and stepped in. Before sitting down, she stepped out, tiptoed to her room, and retrieved the Quran from her bottom drawer. She rushed back into the water and let it cover her skin, which suddenly felt filthy. It had been a while since Basra had opened her Quran. When she wanted to reference any religious material, she'd look through her Bible, but for some reason this night she wanted to read the Quran. She flipped through the pages looking for a section her mother used to read to her and her sister. Upon finding “Al Nisa,” she read softly.
“But those who disobey Allah and His Messenger and transgress His limits will be admitted to a fire, to abide therein: and they shall have a humiliating punishment. If any of your women are guilty of lewdness, take the evidence of four (reliable) witnesses from amongst you against them; and if they testify, confine them to houses until death do claim them, or Allah ordain for them some (other) way.”
Basra closed the book, placed it to the side, closed her eyes, and exhaled. The remorse sank deep into her skin and she immediately took her loofah and began scrubbing her arms. She moved down her arms to her stomach, and legs. She rubbed so hard that her skin turned a soft red. Basra began to sob.
“I'm not a bad person,” she whimpered. “I'm not a bad person.” Basra closed her eyes and rested her head on the edge of the tub. All the years of discipline and studying vengefully returned. She remembered at age twelve getting lashed for coming home stating that she had a boyfriend. Virginity was strongly preached in her home, and growing up, she knew nothing else. She and her sister were encouraged not to look men in the eyes and definitely not be flirtatious in anyway. It wasn't until she was twenty that she realized how attractive her neighbor, Dalmar, was. They were close friends but she spent years not looking him directly in the eyes. Once she did, the attraction was instant and at twenty, he took her virginity. At the time, she was enamored with him and they spoke about becoming married. She couldn't imagine being with any other man, and she wasn't until she came to America. Even then, it felt odd. But Americans were so comfortable with their sexuality that it seemed wrong for holding it to such sacred standards. So when she began dating a guy introduced by her cousin, it was assumed they'd have a sexual relationship. They dated for a few months and then things fell apart. She didn't remember who stopped calling whom, but one day they just stopped communication. After that, she had a quick fling with a waiter who was a dead ringer for Lenny Kravitz. That ended after a month, because Basra decided to buckle down and concentrate on school, and he was too much of a party animal. There were no more men until Lawson. Somehow she'd managed to go from chaste to wanton in a couple of years. Basra pondered her libidinous journey and it literally upset her stomach. She stepped from the tub, dried off, and took her Quran into the bedroom. She tossed on a long T-shirt and crawled into bed. She opened the book once again and continued to read.
“Allah accepts the repentance of those who do evil in ignorance and repent soon afterwards; to them will Allah turn in mercy; for Allah is full of knowledge and wisdom.”
She slid underneath the covers and whispered to the Most High. “You know my heart. Do my intentions make up for my actions?” Basra was very still as she waited for an answer. Her tranquility gave way to sleepiness and Basra drifted off.
Chapter 9
Basra didn't get going until ten the next morning. However, when she woke she felt more peace than she did the night before. Her first clear thought was Grayson. She could see his quirky smile and eagerly wanted to talk with him. Therefore, she ignored every impulse that said to just leave him alone, and instead grabbed her cell. Lucky for her, he didn't answer, and she hung up as the voice mail connected. However, while grabbing some veggies to juice, she decided to call again and leave a message. This time she didn't have the chance, for he answered on the second ring.
“Did you get my message?” he asked immediately.
“No, I didn't check. What did you say?”
“It's not important now. How was last night?” he asked.
“It was okay. I did what I was supposed to do and then came home.”
Fortunately, he moved from that conversation on to their pending date. “So tonight, before I start, do you have any last-minute forgotten-about plans that might surface?”
“If so I won't remember them until tonight,” kidded Basra.
“Okay, well I'm working right now.”
“Working? Where?”
“I prep food for this restaurant. My hours are six to eleven
A.M.
”
“Okay, well, call me when you get off.”
“I will,” he replied.
 
 
Basra spent most of her day housekeeping and washing clothes. That afternoon, she remembered that she still had those Traveler's Cheques, and so she went to the bank to get some savings or investment options. Currently, she only had a checking, a basic savings, and the money market Hollis set up. But Basra wanted to be smart about her money and wanted to learn as much as possible about investing. She spent a few hours in the city and though the time quickly passed, Basra caught herself constantly checking the time and waiting for Grayson's call. She returned home, worked, and just when she was about to call him, his number popped onto her phone.
“It's about time,” she answered.
“I was giving you time to get all of your plans out of the way, because I'm not letting you out of my sight tonight.”
“Where are you?” she asked.
“On my way to Brooklyn.”
“But I'm not ready,” she said.
“I'll wait.”
“Okay, see you soon.”
Basra hung up, jumped in the shower, and quickly got dressed. She threw on a pair of skinny black jeans and a lacy peach blouse. As she was changing purses, the doorman buzzed. When Grayson walked in, she jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around him. He twirled her around, walked with her to the living room, and sat her down on the sofa.
“I missed you too,” he said, kissing her forehead.
“I feel like a goofy teenager around you.”
Grayson reached inside of his pocket and pulled out a bag of Jelly Bellies. He plopped a handful in his mouth. “Want some?” he offered.
“What is that?”
“Jelly Bellies.”
“What?”
“They're flavored jelly beans. Guppie's a vegan but she loves these and now I'm addicted to them.”
Basra grabbed one and chewed on it slowly. “I don't like it.” She frowned.
“Open your mouth.”
Basra opened up and let him see the half-chewed jelly bean.
“You got a bad one.” He sifted through the bag and pulled out two pink ones. “Try these,” he said.
She tasted the candy and smiled. “These are good.”
“Yeah, they have crazy flavors like popcorn and root beer. If you get one like that, then you have to chase it with strawberry, or watermelon.”
Basra dug her hand back in the bag and pulled out a pink one with green dots. She inspected it, and then popped into her mouth. “This tastes like watermelon, much better.”
“You ready?” Grayson asked.
“Where are we going? Can I wear jeans?”
“Of course, I wear jeans everywhere. I don't go if I can't wear jeans.”
“Then I'm ready.”
Basra and Grayson attended
Tricks the Devil Taught Me
at one of New York's many Off Broadway theaters. Afterward, they met his two friends who were in the play for dinner, which was at a casual bar downtown. Basra sat and had drinks with the artistic three. There was nothing glamorous or luxuriant about the evening and it was the most fun she'd had in New York. They joked, drank beer, and laughed until two in the morning. Basra was normally a cab girl, and Grayson was a train guy, but he agreed to take a cab back to Brooklyn that evening.
“You can save a lot more money if you stop taking cabs.”
“I tried, but the trains take too long.”
“They don't if you know what you're doing,” he countered.
“How much money do you think I'd save?”
“Probably five hundred a month.”
“Nah, not that much. I ride the train sometimes, just not at night.”
“Let's say you take a cab twice a day for seven days and the average fare is twenty bucks. That's ...”
“$280.”
“Exactly. You added that quick.”
“I'm really good with numbers.”
“What's 1190 times 258?”
Basra closed her eyes for exactly ten seconds, opened them, and then replied, “307,020.”
“Shit, I was being funny, but that's impressive.”
“I thought about teaching math at one time.”
“But you are majoring in psychology, to become a therapist, right?”
“That's right.”
“Well, it's still impressive.”
The cab pulled over and Grayson looked at the fare. “Twenty-eight dollars. See? That's an outfit,” he said.
“In what store? I can't buy a scarf for that.”
He shook his head, paid the driver, and they went in. Grayson immediately removed his shoes, stretched across the couch, and got comfortable.
Basra sat close and placed her legs across his lap. Grayson gently began to massage her feet. She wiggled her toes as he dug his thumb down the center of her arches. “That feels so good.”
“I'm sure; you've been in five-inch heels all night,” he replied.
“They were only four inch.”
“Why do women wear heels anyway? Especially you? You don't need them to make you taller.”
“I wear flats sometimes, but I love heels. They're sexy.”
“Do you know when you're the sexiest?” Basra shook her head. “It's when you're like this, relaxed. I'm sure you're even more beautiful without makeup.”
Basra gasped as though he said she'd look better without a head. “I know you're not saying I shouldn't wear makeup.”
“No, do whatever you like. I'm just saying you don't need makeup, and that I'm sure you're beautiful without it.”
Basra, suddenly embarrassed, lowered her head and began blushing. She was used to men calling her beautiful, but there was something about Grayson's tone and expression when he looked at her. He slowly lifted her chin, gave her kiss, and her body tingled from head to toe. Though there was a strong attraction, much of their chemistry was platonic. But the energy in the kiss was definitely one that would skyrocket their relationship to another level. It was all happening too fast, Basra thought. She pulled back.
“This is a lot,” she said.
“Did you feel that?” he said.
“I did, and ...” Basra said, rising from the couch.
“What?”
“It's going really fast. It's like we've known each other for years. I'm extremely comfortable around you. I'm not normally like that. I don't even have that many friends.”
“I don't want to scare you off, but this is crazy for me too. I'll be honest; I was dating a couple of people and I feel like calling and telling them to lose my number.”
“See that's what I mean, it's too much.”
“I'm being real with you. I want to see where this could go.”
Basra stopped pacing and looked into Grayson's eyes. He removed his glasses, and reached for her. She grabbed his hand and allowed him to pull her over to the couch. She sat in his lap and kissed him once more. The tingling intensified, and felt like small electric shocks hitting each pore. Basra had never felt anything like that before. The jolt made her leap from his lap.
“I'm sorry, this is just taking me by surprise. I wasn't expecting to like anyone like you.”
“I get it. We can take our time. I will be here.”
“For real? I'm not seeing anyone or anything but if I want to wait, is that cool?”
“It depends on how long, but yeah, it's cool.”
Basra sighed. “Good.”
“Will you sit down now?”
“I'm actually tired, I'm going to hop in the shower. You can stay, though.”
“The thought of you dripping wet, naked in the next room is a bit much for me tonight. I think I'm going to go.”
“Oh nooooo. I wanted you to stay.”
“They'll be other nights. I have an early morning anyway,” he said.
Basra lifted him from the seat and smothered him with a loving embrace. He stared into her eyes and spoke. “I was serious about what I said. I want us to see where this can go.”
“Okay,” she softly replied.
Grayson gave her a soft, quick kiss and left.
“Call me when you get home,” she said as he closed the door.
He nodded and disappeared down the hallway.
Basra, lost in Grayson's lingering effect, twirled through her living room, danced into the bathroom, and prepped for bed. She still held a glowing smile on her face as she closed her eyes and fell asleep.
 
 
Friday afternoon, she received a call from Richard Thorne, Sloan's Philadelphia client. They spoke briefly before agreeing to meet in the city for dinner. Basra was beginning to feel the effect of having a love interest. She didn't want to talk to anyone but him and she surely didn't want to sit and entertain another man over dinner. But these few hours a week would mean she could stash away $6,000 a month, and that was money she couldn't pass up. Therefore, Basra made sure she arrived at the Central Park Boathouse a few minutes before Richard, just so she could study his actions as he got out of the car and walked in.
He pulled up in a cab, got out, and straightened his clothing and nervously looked around.
“Very insecure,” she whispered just before he walked in. He was wearing a moss-colored button-up and khakis just like he said, and he was carrying two roses.
“How corny.” She giggled just before walking to the front door to greet him.
“Hi, Richard,” she said with a wide smile.
Richard lit up like a firecracker. “You are stunning. I mean absolutely astonishing.”
“Thank you, Richard, you're quite a looker yourself,” Basra replied with a wide faux but very realistic-looking smile. She was quickly becoming an award-winning actress.
“Oh, I do all right,” he replied, nervously pulling on his collar.
Basra ordered a glass of wine as soon as they sat at the table. Richard continued to peruse the wine list.
“I've never been here before,” Basra commented.
“Neither have I,” he said as he continued to stare at the menu.
“Do you prefer red or white?”
“I like white, but it's not masculine for a man to drink white wine, so I mostly drink red.”
“I've never heard of that. Red is better for the heart. Either way, it's unnecessary calories, so I monitor my intake.”
“I can't imagine you having to worry about calories.”
“I model and the camera adds weight. I don't diet or anything, but I watch what I eat.”
“I'm going to have the Shiraz,” Richard said to Basra.
She nodded and within a few minutes, quaint dinner conversation began.
“So, I hear you are from Somalia?”
“I am.”
“I spent quite a bit of time in Ethiopia and while I was there visited Mogadishu.”
“I have family in Mogadishu, but I'm from
Kismaayo.
”
“In the Jubaland.”

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