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Authors: Cheris Hodges

BOOK: Recipe for Desire
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“Bria,” Devon said as she approached the door and the others were out of earshot. “Can we talk for a second?”
“I really have to go,” she said nervously. Devon placed his hand on her shoulder and forced her to face him. He’d seen that look before, only it was in his mother’s face when he’d seen it last. Bria was running from something just as his mother had spent years avoiding the spotlight and questions when Devon Sr. had gotten out of hand with his anger and slapped her. He’d tried not to leave a mark, because the wife of the Atlanta Hawks’ star center couldn’t be seen around town with the marks of an abused woman.
When Devon Sr. would get a lick in too good on his mother, Devon and his mom would head out of town for about a month, pretending they were on a big adventure until he had grown up enough to know what was going on. By the time Amelia Harris had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer and Devon Sr. had decided to play the doting husband as she died, Devon had decided he hated his father enough to turn his back on everything his father had designed for him—the basketball career, the education at Georgia Tech, and becoming the crown prince of the hardwood. Instead, he’d taken up his mother’s dream and discovered that being a chef made him happy. What he hated about himself was that in the process of finding himself, he’d hurt Kandace when he’d cheated on her with a throwaway groupie who his father had sent to “greet” him before he headed off to Paris. That had been the dagger in his relationship with Kandace.
Devon couldn’t recall her name, but he’d never forget walking upstairs and finding a cocoa beauty lying in his bed with nothing but a white teddy on. His father and Kandace had gotten into another argument at the party and he’d grown tired of playing referee that night. Especially when Kandace had known that him becoming a chef would be the biggest tribute he could pay to his mother. He’d felt as if she’d allowed Devon Sr. to ruin his party, where he’d done all of the catering himself to show his father and his friends that he had culinary skills. Devon had overindulged on the scotch and champagne, and all he’d wanted to do had been to go to sleep. Until she’d licked her lips and stroked her double Ds. He’d needed a release, and Miss No-Name seemed willing to do whatever he’d wanted.
The moment he’d joined her in bed, they’d started kissing, she’d grabbed a condom, unzipped his pants, and began giving oral sex. Devon had closed his mind to his father’s constant belittling of his career choice and girlfriend. But at the time he’d lost himself in the cheap thrill of the nameless groupie, he’d heard Kandace scream from the door. Devon had struggled to pull away from the woman and had chased after Kandace. He’d wanted to explain why. Then again, he hadn’t quite understood why he’d cheated himself.
Looking at Bria, he knew the look in her eyes: pain, disappointment, and fear. “What’s really going on with you?” he asked her quietly. “If you’re here to get away from some jackass who has been putting his hands on you, then let me know. I can talk to Mrs. Harper, and we can get you the help that you need.”
“I don’t want to talk about that. And I don’t need everyone in my business. He can never find me.” Before Devon could say anything else, Bria tore out of the room and disappeared into the residential section of the shelter. As much as he wanted to follow the young girl and get her to talk to him, Devon knew from his experience with his mother that he couldn’t force her to talk. When she was ready, she’d get the help she needed.
As Devon packed up to head back to the restaurant for dinner service, he wondered if Bria would feel more comfortable talking to someone like Serena or Alicia, maybe even Jade. Definitely Jade, he surmised as he got into his car. She’d be able to reach Bria and would be a lot nicer than Serena.
Chapter 4
Two weeks later, Marie found herself standing in the district court dressed in a Chanel skirt suit, trying not to tell the pompous judge passing down her sentence to shut the hell up. Was this man simply trying to make the evening news or was this what really happened in court?
“Driving under the influence is illegal and stupid,” Judge Tracy O’Conner said. “Ms. Charles, you’re fortunate that no one was hurt when you decided to take a spin in your sports car after drinking all night.”
Marie fought the urge to roll her eyes. Could he just suspend the sentence already? This was only her first offense. “I don’t think you’ve learned a true lesson,” the judge said.
“Excuse me?” Marie turned to her father. “What’s going on here?”
“Look at me,” Judge O’Conner bellowed. “What lesson have you learned?”
“Not to drink and drive again,” Marie replied, trying to keep her voice even and respectful. “I’m fully aware of how lucky I was to not hurt myself or anyone else. What I did was a mistake that will never happen again.” She could feel Hailey looking at her from the gallery. She’d told her intern that she didn’t have to show up in court because she was sure that the judge wouldn’t sentence her to a jail term. And Marie planned to keep her word and keep Hailey out of trouble.
“That’s not enough. Everyone says that when they’re in front of me after causing an accident because they weren’t smart enough to call a cab when they had too much to drink.”
“But, your honor, what more do you want from me?” Marie asked as her father squeezed her left hand, signaling for her to be quiet.
“I want you to take full responsibility for your actions, don’t just say what I’m sure your father has told you judges want to hear. You may not have hurt anyone, Ms. Charles, but I see you as being a spoiled young woman who thinks an ‘I’m sorry’ will fix everything.”
“I don’t think that, your honor,” Marie said. “I want to ...”
The judge held up his hand. “I’ve come to a decision. Your license will be suspended for thirty days and you will perform five hundred hours of community service with a women’s facility in the city. This will be coordinated with the Mecklenburg County Department of Probation.”
Marie turned to her father. “What does this mean?” she whispered.
He nodded toward the judge, who wasn’t finished with his dressing-down of Marie. “And furthermore,” the judge said, “in reading the background on your case, I feel that you have gotten away with a lot of things because your father has the means and the connections to keep you out of trouble. All of the citizens in this county don’t have those benefits. It will do you some good to take your community service seriously. I don’t want to see you in this courtroom again. You can have a bright future, but your selfish actions may dampen that.”
Marie cocked her head to the side and eyed the judge as if she wanted to leap across the bench and slap him. Instead, she simply nodded and listened to the judge’s rant.
“I hope that you will learn something more than never driving under the influence again.”
“Yes, sir,” Marie said, struggling to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
“Next case,” the judge called as Richard began gathering his papers. Marie had started to charge out of the courtroom, but her father stopped her.
“You have to talk to the probation department and get the community service set up,” Richard said as he grabbed his briefcase.
“I really have to do that?” Marie whispered. “Can’t I just write a check?”
Richard glared at his daughter. “Did you hear anything the judge said? You have to follow the letter of your probation. I’m glad you went before Judge O’Conner. I almost tried to get this moved, because he’s tough. But you’re on your own, Marie. I’m tired of this attitude of yours.”
“Daddy,” she whined.
“Don’t ‘Daddy’ me. I told you before that you were acting like an out-of-control party girl and I was sick of it. Your actions in there with the judge could’ve landed you in jail.”
“How?”
“You don’t speak to a judge like that in open court or ever. You think you can just do what you want and get away with it. Judge O’ Conner was right, you need to learn a real hard lesson here, Marie,” Richard said as he pointed down the hall. “The probation office is that way, I’d suggest you get in there and get your paperwork done.”
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“I have another case.”
“How am I supposed to get home?”
“Well, there’s Charlotte Area Transit, there’s a taxi cab, or you could walk, since you live four blocks from here,” Richard said. As her father left her standing in the hallway alone, Marie knew she had to follow these rules and talk to the probation office about community service. Who did they think she was? Chris Brown?
Please, God, don’t let them put me on trash pick-up duty or something. This is horrible,
she thought as she walked into the probation office. Marie ignored the other people waiting in line and walked up to the front desk.
“I’m Marie Charles and I have to see a probation officer about community service,” she said to the clerk at the front desk.
“You’re going to have to take a number and wait like everyone else,” the surly and obviously overworked woman replied.
“But, you don’t understand, I have an appointment at Neiman Marcus in an hour. I don’t ...”
“Take a number and sit down. Do I look like I give a damn about Neiman Marcus? You’re no different from anyone in here!” The woman grabbed a plastic sign that read B
ACK IN
F
IVE
M
INUTES,
slammed it on the desk, and tore out of the room.
Marie turned and looked at the people she was waiting with and sighed. She wouldn’t be trying on the new Louboutins today after all. She plopped down on a vinyl chair and fumed. The clerk had no right to be mad! Marie was going to miss out on her chance to get a brand-new pair of Louboutins. Folding her arms across her chest, all Marie could think about was making William suffer for this. How could he come to her event with that cow of an ex-wife? Marie chewed on her bottom lip, realizing for the first time that she hadn’t heard from him since that night and she really didn’t care.
Damn,
she thought,
I really did create this mess for no reason.
It was an hour and a half before Marie met with her probation officer, another overworked civil servant with a bad attitude, at least in her opinion. Tito Parker was his name, and Marie wondered if the overstuffed man knew that his shirt was three sizes too small.
“So, you have five hundred hours of community service that you have to complete as a part of your plea agreement.” He sighed, then coughed. Marie fanned his germs away and groaned. Was this her life? Sitting in front of a probation officer like a common criminal because she made a little—well, pretty big—mistake?
“Yes. Can we get this over with?” she said.
He glanced up from her file with a perplexed look on his face. “Ms. Charles, I don’t know if you think this a makeup counter or a shopping mall, but we will be done when we go through the judge’s orders.”
Marie leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “Fine.”
“Now,” he said. “The judge wants you to do something significant with your service and has already outlined where you’re to complete the order hours. I guess you’re happy that you won’t have to collect trash on Independence Boulevard in that traffic.”
“Great,” she said sarcastically.
He narrowed his eyes at Marie. “Weren’t you in the papers over the summer for leading a protest about nothing in Center City?”
“It wasn’t about nothing,” Marie retorted. “Animals are important.”
He looked down at her shoes. “Are those leather?”
“What’s your point?”
“If you care so much about animals ... never mind. Anyway, the shelter where you will be working caters to single women who are homeless.”
“A soup kitchen?”
Tito ran his hand across his face. “You know what, Ms. Charles, I’m trying to work with you and you’re making it very difficult.” He slammed a colorful brochure on the desk in front of her. “This place is for women who, unlike yourself, weren’t born with a silver spoon in their mouths and fell on hard times. Maybe you can make a difference in their lives with your abundance of riches.”
“So, I can write a check and be done with this?”
Tito shook his head. “You know, I’m so sick of people thinking they can just throw money at a problem and it’s supposed to be all better.”
“Anyway, what am I supposed to do when I get there?”
“You will be working under Devon Harris; he’ll give you your instructions and report back to me about your progress. Ms. Charles, make no mistake, if you don’t do what you’re supposed to do, you will be in violation of your probation agreement and you will face jail time and a hefty fine.”
Marie shuddered at the thought of spending more time in jail. The one night she’d spent there had been more than enough for a lifetime. “Fine,” she said. Tito handed her a folder.
“Your time sheets are in here and I need to have them in by Monday at noon or I will have to consider you in violation,” he said.
Marie flipped through the folder and sighed. Maybe Devon Harris would just sign the timesheets and let her go without actually putting in the work. Then she could focus on something much more important: rebuilding her own image. That was the best service she could give to the community. And that would show William’s trifling ass that she was still a winner.
 
 
Serena smiled as Devon finished teaching the ladies at My Sister’s Keeper a lesson on making pasta sauce. He was really into what he was doing, and she was proud of her friend.
“All right, ladies, I have a treat today. This is Serena Billups, one of the owners of Hometown Delights and sponsors of our fund-raiser. Serena is going to talk to us about how to present ourselves in a business situation,” Devon said. “While she’s talking, I’m going to can our sauce and get the lasagna ready for dinner. Let’s give her a hand.”
The women clapped as Serena stood in the middle of the kitchen. “Thanks for having me here,” she said. “I think I want some of the lasagna.”
The women laughed and Serena began her speech about business etiquette. As Devon began to line the pans, Elaine Harper walked into the kitchen. “Devon,” she whispered, so as not to interrupt Serena’s speech. “May I see you for a moment?”
He nodded and followed her out into the hallway. “What’s going on, Mrs. Harper?”
“Well,” she said. “I just got a call from the Mecklenburg County Probation Office.”
“This sounds serious,” he said.
“Kind of,” she replied. “We’re going to have a woman coming in to do some community service.”
“What did she do?”
“It was a nonviolent offense,” she said. “I have her file in my office. I know it’s asking a lot, but you’re going to be the one to make her schedule and sign her time sheets.”
“That’s fine, I’ll just have her come in when I do. I do want to see her file, though,” Devon said, thinking about Bria. The last thing he wanted was someone coming in that may have a connection to her past. She was slowly opening up to him, quietly telling him about how she’d moved to Charlotte after her mother died and her father’s new girlfriend made living at home very uncomfortable. Every time he’d ask her about a boyfriend, she’d grow silent. But he did notice that she was meeting with one of the counselors from the Mecklenburg County Women’s Commission.
“It’s in my office,” Elaine said.
“I’ll follow you,” he said. “How’s Bria doing?”
“Oh, Devon, she is making very good strides. She’s a good girl with some really big problems for someone so young.”
He nodded as they walked into the office. “But,” Elaine said, “these women really enjoy working with you and they trust you. I can’t believe that you’ve been working so closely with us.”
“I’m doing it for my mother,” he said as she handed him the file marked M
ARIE
C
HARLES
.
“Your mother?”
“She needed someone for her, and there was no one there to listen to her,” he said.
Elaine nodded. “I understand,” she said as Devon flipped though the file.
“DUI, huh?” he said. “Wait, is she that public-relations chick who got into trouble a few weeks ago?”
“One in the same, and the daughter of attorney Richard Charles III. He actually represented us when we were in a dispute with some of the neighbors here about rezoning this land. He’s a good man, but from all accounts, Marie is a spoiled brat.”
“Well, we’ll try to get some of that out of her. We have plenty of work she can do.”
Elaine smiled. “Yes, there is a lot of work to do here. Have I thanked you for this fund-raiser that you’re organizing? Everyone is excited about it.”

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