God Ain't Blind (12 page)

He sucked in a deep breath and pursed his lips, looking at me like I was a piece of meat on a silver platter myself. The thought of that almost made me laugh. “If you don’t mind me saying, you sure do look nice today,” he said. “Those braids make you look so regal.”

He must have been having a damn good day—or I was hotter than I gave myself credit for!—because he was beaming.

“Thank you,” I replied in a low voice, patting the side of my head, glad now that I’d let my hairdresser talk me into wearing braids again. I shifted my butt to a more comfortable position. I tried not to look at my charming host, but it couldn’t be avoided. He was looking me straight in the eyes.

“Now, if you will excuse me, I have to get back to that newlywed 84

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couple over there,” he said, with a grin, nodding toward the heart-shaped meat loaf on the platter and then toward the other side of the room. I was not interested in the newlyweds, so I didn’t even bother to look in their direction. “Your waitress will be with you in a few moments. I wouldn’t want to keep a sister like you waiting long.” He winked at me. I didn’t know if he was just being nice or if he was flirting. I was relieved when he disappeared from my view.

He returned so fast that I didn’t have much time to inspect his place more. But I didn’t need to. I was already impressed with everything I’d seen so far. When a young waitress approached my booth, with her pad and pencil ready to take my order, he politely waved her away.

“Did you decide yet?” he asked me, that beaming look still on his face.

I hadn’t even looked at the menu. “No. But why don’t you tell me what I’d probably like?” I suggested. I swallowed hard, and I wanted to pinch myself for saying something that sounded so suggestive. The last thing I wanted this man to think was that I was on the prowl and looking for some action, because that was not the case. Despite the fact that I was neglected and ignored at home, I had no desire to start something with another man.

“I’ll take good care of you,” he told me, giving me a mysterious smile.

If he was trying to provoke me, he was doing a damn good job.

But like I said, I was not looking for any action. I had had it, and if that was all the action I was going to get, I had to live with that.

However, I liked knowing other men still found me attractive.

No matter how innocent the encounter was, and despite our mutual innuendos, I should have gotten my meal and run the hell out of that place. But I didn’t, and I would live to regret that decision for the rest of my life.

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I was glad that I had ordered just a half order of the deep-fried shrimp. But even that was too much. The order included fries and a roll, but I had requested that those two items be left off my plate.

After just a few bites, I started to burp like a baby. And even though I covered my mouth with my hand each time, a man in the booth in front of me turned around and gave me a dirty look.

After finishing just half of my half order and half a glass of iced tea, I felt so stuffed, I knew that it would be to my advantage to stop eating. My stomach felt the way it used to feel during my all-you-can-eat days, like I was about to explode. It was a feeling that I could no longer tolerate, and I avoided it as often as I could. I had read somewhere that when a woman lost a lot of weight, her stomach shrank. I didn’t know if that was true or not, but I couldn’t eat nearly as much as I used to eat.

I didn’t know how long my body would continue to reinvent itself, so I planned to enjoy it for as long as I could. I loved having a real waistline. I recalled how Aretha Franklin had lost a tremendous amount of weight back in the seventies. Then she’d flaunted her new body in a pair of hot pants! But her weight had returned with a vengeance. The last time I saw her on TV, she looked like Moby Dick, the same way I used to look. I didn’t want the world to ever see me like that again.

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I was looking downright cute today, and I knew it. I had on my moderately tight black leather skirt with a modest split up the side.

It was one of my favorite pieces of clothing. I had liked it so much when I tried it on in the boutique on Jersey Street where a former Miss Richland shopped that I had purchased two more just like it at the same time. Under the matching jacket, I had on a white blouse that was cut just low enough to tease. I still had most of my ample bosom, and it was a lot firmer than it used to be. My sporadic trips to the gym had paid off. I had noticed how Louis’s eyes had lingered on my bosom when he seated me.

I had paid the cashier and was on my way back to my booth to leave a tip on the table when Louis came back out of a room I assumed was the kitchen. I’d seen a couple of waiters and the same waitress who had attempted to wait on me coming out with trays of food and tall drinks.

“Sister, I hope you enjoyed your meal,” Louis said, his eyes traveling from my face to my bosom. He stood dangerously close to me in front of the booth.

“I did,” I assured him as I dropped a 30 percent tip on the table.

“Uh, can I take a menu with me to look over? I understand you do catering.”

I already had the goods on this man and his business. Before I’d left my office, I’d called Rhoda up again. She had told me what was on his menu and all the catering details. And he was such a nice dude that I liked him already.

“Yes, I do offer catering services.” His eyes sparkled even more.

“You can take a menu and anything else out of here that you want.

Including me,” he offered, with a wink.

I was glad that I was too dark for him to see me blushing. My face felt like it was in front of a campfire. I gave him a slightly exasperated look and shook my head. “Thank you, but a menu will be enough,” I said, winking back at him.

“Just kidding. I hope I didn’t offend you.” I could see clean through the apologetic look that he offered with a sheepish grin.

Had I been naked, this man could not have shown more interest in me.

“You didn’t,” I told him. “It takes a lot to offend me.”

He sniffed and smiled, and then he shifted his weight from one GOD AIN’ T BLIND

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foot to the other. “When I get too close to the speed limit, would you let me know?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what the speed limit is in this state,” I said, and I was telling the truth.

“I don’t either, but something tells me I might be getting close to it. I know I’m gwine a little too fast. . . .”

I smiled at him and blinked. “But you can keep going. You might catch me, and you might not.” I had
never
behaved in such a brazen and flirtatious manner before in my life. Even during my days as a prostitute. “Are you this friendly with all your female customers?” I asked boldly, folding my arms. It seemed like everything I did drew attention to my bosom. At least in his case. He looked at my bosom again, this time so long that I shifted the strap on my purse so that it was in front of me, as opposed to hanging off the side of my shoulder.

“Just the beautiful ones.” He pursed his lips and shifted his eyes like he was processing some information in his head. “And that’s not too often. This is the kind of place that attracts mostly water buffalo. Last night a herd coming from a bingo game stampeded this place.” He laughed. I didn’t.

“Oh,” I said, with my lips stiff and my eyes narrowed.

“Not that I’m making fun of women in that category!” He held up his hands and shook his head. “I’m just trying to make you smile, because you look so cute when you do. You seem like the kind of lady who can appreciate a good joke.”

“I am. You got one?”

He gave me a dry look; then he laughed. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t raised to make fun of people, especially my sisters. Now what was that you were saying about us doing business?”

“I’d like to consider your restaurant for some catering for my office,” I said nervously. I knew that if I was going to do business with this man, I had to respond to him in a businesslike manner. No matter how frivolous he was behaving.

“And we’ll do it with a smile,” he announced, grinning. “How did you hear about me?”

“Rhoda O’Toole is one of your regular clients. And she’s anxious to get that free meal for referring me.”

“Bless her heart. I didn’t catch your name,” he said, dipping his 88

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head so that he had to buck his eyes to look at me. He was drop-dead gorgeous, and that little gesture made him look downright cute, too.

I sniffed and tilted my head. I was finally at a place where it gave me a great deal of pride to identify myself. “I’m Annette Davis. I am a manager at Mizelle’s Collection Agency. Earlier today I made my employees an offer they couldn’t refuse.”

“Oh? I hope it includes my services on a regular basis,” Louis said, with a hopeful look on his face. He turned his head to the side and cupped his ear. He had small hands and small ears, not a good sign. According to Rhoda that meant a small dick. I couldn’t believe what I was thinking! Just because this man had paid me some attention and flirted with me so blatantly, I had the nerve to be fantasizing about his dick. I forced myself not to look at his feet to see if they were small, too.

“It could.” I grinned. “Uh, I don’t know about setting up a contract yet, though. I thought I’d have a couple of events, and if my people like your food, we’ll go from there. There are a couple of other places I’d like to consider, too,” I lied. I had already made up my mind. I wanted to work with Louis, but I didn’t want him to know that yet. I wanted to get as good a deal as I could.

“Let me do this for you. How many folks are we talking about?”

“Well, including myself, I have a staff of fourteen full-time employees. There are two boys who work in the mail room, but they only work a couple of hours in the morning and a couple in the afternoon. My boss drops in from time to time.”

“So roughly speaking, we’re talking about a nice-size party,” Louis said. He glanced around and paused. “Would you be more comfortable discussing this in my office?”

I was glad that he was looking and acting more businesslike now, but I was still leery of him. There was no telling how he would behave if he got me in his office. I was not the smartest woman in the world, but I could tell that this man wanted more from me than a catering agreement.

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“I don’t think that discussing this in your office is necessary.” I paused and exhaled. “But thanks for the offer.”

Had I been just a little more disgusted with my husband, I would have followed Louis to his office with bells on. His attention had intrigued me, and that had caused me to let my defenses down.

But the fact of the matter was that I needed some attention. And, without even trying, I had caught the eye of a young, smart man with the looks of a movie star.

“Are you afraid I might bite?” He leered at me.

“I think you’re getting close to that speed limit,” I warned.

“Guilty as charged!” he said, his hands in the air as if he was a guest on
COPS.

“I have to get home soon. Do you have a business card? I can call you up and arrange an appointment in the next few days.”

“I don’t have my business cards yet, but you can call me at the number on the menu,” he said, nodding toward the menu that he had placed in my hand. “What is the best day for you and your employees?”

“Huh? Oh. First of all, I have to let you know that everything depends on the budget I can get my boss to approve.”

“Hmm.” His face dropped like a lead balloon. “So this is not a sure thing?”

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“I’m not sure yet. Like I just said, everything depends on the budget that I can get approved.”

I had worked out a tentative agreement with Mr. Mizelle and my employees just before I’d left work. We would use the funds for our Christmas cash bonus to each employee, which was taxable, our hol-iday celebrations—in addition to the regular major national holi-days, we had office parties to celebrate everything from St. Patrick’s Day to Flag Day—and our annual company picnic to cover the cost of a weekly feast, to be catered by Louis Baines—or some other caterer, should his services not satisfy our needs and palates. This was also information that I felt I didn’t need to reveal to Louis yet.

I was convinced that if I did, it would weaken my leverage.

“Is there anything I can do to help you make up your mind?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know your prices yet. I don’t know anything about your dependability and service. And, I hate to say this, I don’t know the quality of your selections. Now the prawns were good, but that’s not all we would be ordering. The bottom line is, I can’t commit to anything, or approach my boss, until I compare you with some of the other caterers that I’m considering.” Because of Rhoda’s glowing recommendation, I had not approached any other caterers before Louis. And now I knew I wouldn’t. I was dead meat as soon as I’d tasted those fried shrimp.

However, I had to admit that Louis’s good looks and aggressive approach had a lot to do with my decision, too. I didn’t want to reveal that information to him. He didn’t need to know what a pushover I was. I couldn’t tell if he already had a big head; most men who looked like him did. His good looks and business owner-ship were more than enough to give him a head the size of a water-melon. I didn’t want to contribute to it.

The cost of the weekly catering service didn’t matter. I had already turned over that stone. My boss, Mr. Mizelle, had agreed to pay the difference, if it was necessary. “This is a splendid incentive, Annette! I support you wholeheartedly. All for the sake of productivity. If this gets our folks to improve their attendance and not resign after a few bad experiences with some of our debtors, we’ll meet our goals more frequently,” he had told me through his bird-like lips.

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Louis coughed to get my attention back. “I can assure you, I will offer you an arrangement that will be within your budget.” The fact that he seemed somewhat desperate concerned me, too. I didn’t want to do business with him out of pity. I did not make it to a manager’s position by working with people because I felt sorry for them.