The hustle and bustle of life lately had seized the concept of time. Everything seemed to run into each other: day and night, up and down, in and out, but I wouldn't change it for the world. Kweens Korner was officially coming to fruition every day that the contractors made the improvements and necessary repairs to the building. Two weeks down with construction, and hopefully, only another five weeks left until I can welcome my girls to the new Kweens Korner home. I was just about to give up on this idea three weeks ago, but now, looking at where we are, I'm glad to see that it unexpectedly came along with some other things.
Three weeks ago, I decided to enter the dating contract with Jameson. After speaking with Jameson, I contacted Harrison about my decision and inquired about the validity of the monetary addition to the acceptance of my decision.
"Of course, as promised, you'll get the first half as soon as you sign the dotted line. My word," Harrison said during the phone conversation the day after.
"Okay," I say with a relieved sigh. With this verbal confirmation, I felt more empowered that things were back on track for Kweens Korner, but I still needed a tugging question answered. "Does Jameson know about this?"
Harrison paused before answering, "He doesn't, but let's keep it that way, please."
"Oh, I thought so," I slowly answered, thoughts running through my mind on how to keep this quiet and how I was already lying to this man.
"It's an incentive thrown in by Big JB—"
"Big JB?"
"Uh, Honorable Mayor Jameson Belafonte I, Jamie's father."
I nod, taking in all the information and layers of this whole thing. So, Jameson's father really has his hand all the way in the pot, mixing and stirring things. After the tidbit I had gotten from Jameson and now this, I didn't get a good feeling about his father, but I was already too far in. I've already agreed to both Jameson and Harrison, and although I knew I had every right to turn away, I didn't want to. Jameson had an inexplicable pull on me, and to add to that, my desire to bring Kweens Korner to life was just as important as my need to breathe. I couldn't deny my guilty feeling for starting this relationship—no, this thing—off with a lie.
"Okay, I won't say anything," I agreed, then turned the conversation towards gaining more details. "So, what now?"
"So, I'll wait for Jameson to give me the news and then send over the contract. I'm sure that will be in no time. Then, you two, do what you do."
Harrison ended his statement with something in his tone that sounded like he knew more about Jameson and my interaction. It made me wonder whether Jameson had discussed what occurred between us. I couldn't be mad if he did because I had done the same, but it still felt weird, considering Harrison was a part of the business exchange and his best friend. I didn't question him. Instead, I brushed off my assumption and agreed with the plan to wait for the contract to be sent. Twenty-four hours later, I received the contract and signed it.
I wanted to visit the new Kweens Korner headquarters, but this Tuesday, I had more on my typical plate, with it being Black Restaurant Week. This week was for the culture, and the culture definitely shows up to support our local black-owned restaurants in a special way. It wasn't unusual that I would be out a few times during this special week, as this was usually a time for my core crew and me to get together and fellowship. However, what made this not so regular was that this Black Restaurant Week would serve as Jameson and my first appearance in the city together—as a couple.
Just thinking about it made my heart sink in anticipation and nervousness about this idea. It was evident that we were wildly attracted to each other. With a few text exchanges and some late-night conversations that started as innocent and quickly turned into hot and heavy "flirtation," our attraction was proven repeatedly. But Jameson and I hadn't had in-depth conversations, which caused the nervous twisting of my stomach. How would we prove we are together while knowing little about each other?
"Time had slipped away, even two hours before a car would pick me up from my residence. I didn't even know if Jameson and I would be arriving together. I only knew he was invited to an opening celebration at one of our esteemed black-owned establishments, and I was now his plus one. There was not enough time for me to research to determine which establishment. I needed the less than two hours left to ensure I looked my best and settled my nerves before the show began.
A show. That's precisely what I felt like this would be. I am not shy of a bit of attention. I'm a bad chick, beautiful in my own right, a businesswoman of a fly boutique, and my fly matches everything the business exudes. I turn heads, to say the least, but this was more than just turning heads on the streets; this is being displayed for the whole city to see—and think whatever they choose. You know people. They will believe whatever fits their perception. I sighed heavily through my nervousness and hoped to hold up at least my end of the narrative we hoped to create tonight.
Jameson Belafonte and Kennedy Ellis are a couple, I thought as I looked at myself in the outfit I chose for the night. I chose simple chic tonight: a black turtleneck, a high-waisted black and white plaid skirt, and sheer black stockings that wouldn't detract from the black suede booties. The gold accent buckle was the highlight of the simple shoe. I tried to imagine Jameson standing behind me for a mental picture of what we would look like standing together. My body grew flush at the thought of him close, but I couldn't mentally picture him to know if our outfits would pass the vibe check. I could only remember him in a tuxedo. I was so angry the last time I saw him that I didn't notice his attire. That left me with no idea what dressed-down Jameson looked like. Not wanting to rack my brain any longer, I let go of the failed attempt at visualizing and went to complete the final step of my primping, applying my makeup.
I had poured myself a glass of wine when I heard the doorbell ring. I had no plans of wasting my glass of red. It was what I was counting on to take the edge off of my nerves, so I finished it in two large gulps before quickly strutting to the door, not to keep the driver waiting too long for me. I'm not sure if it was the alcohol contents of the wine hitting my bloodstream at a quick rate or if it was the appearance of a freshly cut and groomed Jameson that caused my body to burn with heat. The culprit was Jameson because he was absolutely debonair yet relaxed in his black cashmere sweater and slacks. He topped off his well-fitted outfit with a black blazer and a simple gold link chain. His air smelled like mint and leather, drawing me into him and validating why he had no problems with women. He knew how to put it all together to make a woman swoon.
I noticed Jameson taking in my appearance as well. His eyes settled on my plush thighs, which the skirt hugged snugly. Weeks ago, I would have slyly thrown his reputation in his face for sneaking a peek, but in this time and day, I found my own joy in knowing he liked what he saw. His dark gaze warmed my center.
"Good evening, Angel Face," Jameson says, settling his deep brown eyes on mine. His lips curved into a crooked smile, slightly revealing his pearly whites.
"Angel Face? Pet names already?" I ask, blushing at the name he had given me.
He shrugs. "I guess so. It just seems fitting every time I see your face."
I smirk as I grab my purse from the stand by my door. Jameson allows me to step outside my door onto my small stoop. I could sense his energy, fiery as mine, as I locked my door. When I turned around, he stood in my air, our scents creating an intoxicating fragrance. I looked up at him and sucked in a shallow breath, vowing to myself I would not fall into his hypnotism in less than five minutes of being in his presence.
"We should probably get going," I say when I find my words.
"Right," he agrees. Jameson extends his hand out to gesture to me to go before him. I started down the steps, and a shiver ran through my spine as he placed his hand on my back to assist me. I chastised myself for how easily these energy waves ran through my body. You'd think I was a dog in heat because I wanted to pounce on him simply from a look or a simple touch to my back. Our first encounter kicked it off, and the flirtation that's been going on over our phone lines kept it going. In a sense, I was in my own state of heat. It's been quite some time since I've been intimate with a man.
After getting into a black SUV, I noticed the male driver and contemplated how I could address our "pressing need to be on the same page on this first public date. Thinking over my words, I slowly asked, "So, how's this going to work?"
I raised an eyebrow, hoping it would clue him in on what I was asking.
"We go out, have a great dinner, and enjoy each other. Nothing too formal tonight. I'm just there to inaugurate Black Restaurant Week. Say a few words, enjoy dinner, talk to a few patrons," he responded without breaking his cool.
Jameson's cool made me wonder if I was worrying over the optics too much. I nodded and settled into what ended up being a short drive to the restaurant, but when we pulled up close to the curb of the location of Braxton and my last dinner, St. John's Restaurant, my jaw dropped.
"Oh..my…God."
"Something wrong?"
I could hear Jameson's question, but my mind ran through the many scenarios of running into Braxton while with Jameson. What a fine time for my brain to work in favor of visualization. I didn't owe Braxton any explanation. Well, not really, although I ended things without even verbalizing it. I just stopped answering his calls and messages. Besides, everything happened so fast, from the loss of the grant to Jameson's proposition, but again, I don't owe him anything. He stood you up on Valentine's Day, remember? I reminded myself, which caused my horror of this moment to subside. Awkward as it would be, there's no shame in him seeing that I've moved on—in a sense.
"Kennedy?" Jameson's call for my attention brought me back. I blinked to clear my thoughts and met his eyes, which held puzzle. "Are you good?"
I mustered a smile and lied, "Oh yes, I thought I forgot something and then realized I didn't. I'm sorry. Shall we?"
I gesture to the now-open passenger door on his side of the car. He "holds his gaze on me for a moment, not entirely buying my response, but shrugs it off and steps out of the car, holding his hand out to help me.
We were accosted by two photographers snapping our pictures as we walked into the restaurant. I was caught off guard and was sure that my face showed it in the first two snaps of the cameras, but I quickly adjusted my expression to a pleasant smile. Jameson slips his arm around my waist and pulls me closer to him. I relaxed my hand on his chest, posing for one last photo. He rubbed the side of my waist as I looked up at him, still holding my smile. His eyes glistened with that same starry look he gave me on the dance floor at the Sweethearts Gala, making my heart bloom.
"Now, that was a nice shot," one of the photographers says after snapping the last picture. The camera's flash brings us out of our moment. I smile bashfully and pull away just as Jameson seamlessly "slides his arm from my waist and interlocks his fingers into mine.
"God, what are you doing to me?" The question slipped from my lips loud enough for Jameson to hear and inquire about what I said. I laughed off my embarrassment of my inner thoughts coming out and swiftly replied, "Oh, I just said, 'God, I'm hungry.' The food smells delicious, doesn't it?"
"Oh, yeah, it does," he replies, searching the room. I assumed his search was for someone to attend to us, but it wasn't long after that Harrison's short stature came striding to us.
"You two made it just in time," Harrison says as he approaches us. He takes my hand to greet me and then shakes Jameson's, giving him a quick pat on the back. "We just secured our table."
I looked up to Jameson with questioning eyes, and he shrugged his uncertainty at Harrison's suggestion of additional guests dining with us. We didn't have time to inquire. Within seconds of informing us that our table was being secured, Harrison swiftly took off before us, guiding us through the rows of tables full of patrons. As expected, we caught many of the patron's attention, with us.
We didn't have time to inquire. Within seconds of informing us that our table was being secured, Harrison swiftly took off before us, guiding us through the rows of tables full of patrons. As expected, we caught many of the patron's attention, with some of them stopping Jameson to greet him. I caught many curious glances that came my way, some from familiar faces I'd seen around the city and others I didn't know. It was apparent they were wondering who I was to Jameson. A few greetings later, we made it to the back corner of the restaurant, where I was happy to find the unknown guest was none other than Blaire.
I slipped into the booth to sit in the center beside Blaire and nudged her.
"Something you need to tell me?" I ask in a low and playful voice.
She raspberried and looked at me as if to ask if I was serious. "Negative. This is business only."
We giggled amongst ourselves and made some small talk. At the same time, Harrison and Jameson shared their own conversation before they sat down; Jameson sat beside me naturally, and Harrison beside Blaire.
A waitress came to take our drink orders, and Jameson ordered, "The finest bottle of champagne you have," Jameson requested when our waitress came to take our drink orders. "It's a celebration!"
We all join in with laughter at Jameson's declaration. One thing I've learned in my short time with him is that he was very charismatic and knew how to work a crowd. His confidence never wavered when he was in the public eye, which was so attractive to me.
The waitress returned to the table with glasses, and although I was feeling a slight buzz from my glass of wine before leaving home, I was ready for another one. I accepted the glass the waitress offered me as the sound of the bottle's cork popping off behind her. She stepped to the side, and Braxton made his way to the table with the fizzing bottle of champagne.
I froze like a deer caught in headlights, and I was sure my shock showed as Braxton and my eyes locked. He looked just as surprised to see me as he bounced his eyes from me to Jameson and then Blaire. When his eyes landed back on me, he raised his eyebrow slightly, his mouth forming what looked like he wanted to say, "Wow," before he turned to Jameson with a forced smile.
Shit.
"Mayor Jameson Belafonte," Braxton sings as he pours Jameson a healthy glass of champagne. "Thank you for coming to my establishment tonight, home of the best seafood and steak."
"It's a pleasure. Thank you for having me, " Jameson answers, raising his glass for him. "Let me introduce you to—"
"Kennedy," Braxton finishes his sentence, moving the champagne bottle toward me. My stomach tightens, and my mouth grows as tight as I muster a stiff smile. I raise my glass to be filled as he says, "I know her very well."
My eyes ballooned at his subtle assumption, and my smile threatened to falter, but I held it, still very stiff. Our table grew deafly quiet besides the quiet scoff Blaire let out. I could sense Jameson's eyes on me, but I felt too sick to look over and confirm. Braxton's underlying crude statement insinuated something that never happened between us, and I was fighting to keep a level head and straight face.
"Well enough, but not that well," I corrected. "Good to see you again, Braxton."
He scoffs and sucks his teeth slightly, his gaze lingering on me a little longer before he moves to pour Blaire and Harrison's glasses. I roll my eyes hard as I sip from my glass, needing something to settle the curdling in my blood from the exchange. It was salty and immature, reiterating how glad I was that I no longer had dealings with him. When I came out of my eye roll, I saw Jameson's narrowed and quizzical stare before he moved his eyes toward the conversation between Blaire, Harrison, and Braxton.
"Braxton was one of the first bachelors who allowed me to add them to my database," Blaire explains her connection to Harrison. She smiles pleasantly and boasts, "We're still working on him finding his perfect match, but I feel we're getting close."
"Yeah," Braxton agreed with a huff. He moves his eyes to me while still addressing the table. "I have faith in the process. The last match was a fun time, but she's been passed through my social circle a little too much for my liking."
My jaw dropped along with Harrison's, whose eyes darted to me and then to Jameson. I dared not look at him, embarrassed by the storyline Braxton was subtly creating about me. If Harrison could pick up that Braxton was speaking of me, I knew Jameson did, too. Much of me wanted to spew some choice words to Braxton, but I quickly reminded myself that if I did and drew attention to us, it would not be the optics that would be helpful in the story we were trying to pull off. So, I said nothing, saving Jameson's face and ruining mine. Although it felt like the right decision, it was burning me inside.
"Braxton, I think that was not called for—"
"Excuse me, but I need to get up," I interrupted Blaire in the middle of her chastise. I scooted into Jameson, nudging him to move out of his seat. He does, and as soon as I had my opening, I bolted from the booth and quickly strutted toward the bathroom.