All Up In My Business (12 page)

20

Z
oe sat behind her desk, which was situated just outside Ace’s office. She tried to look professional, consumed with Taste business, while she typed instant messages to Chardonnay, who had the day off.

What do you mean you saw it?

Zoe placed papers in her inbox while she waited for Chardonnay’s response.

That nasty dog pulled it out while we were both in the pantry.

LMAO! ::silently:: Girl, shut UP! If I’m lying, I’m dying.

Well … ? Well, what?

Well, what’s he working with?”

Damn, girl, I gotta admit it. His face is a problem but his dick look good.

He’s not that bad, Char, probably cleans up nicely.

Just needs a woman’s touch.

Yeah, he needs a touch all right … from a plastic surgeon.

LOL! Ooh, got

Zoe quickly closed the IM window as Ace approached her
desk. “These letters are signed and ready to go. Do you have the report that I asked for earlier?”

“Yes, Mr. Livingston. I just need to print it out.”

Ace nodded. “Put it on my desk. I want to look at it before the meeting.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ace started for his office, then turned around. “Oh, and, Zoe …”

“Yes?”

“I appreciated the information you gathered online, regarding America’s changing eating habits and focus on health. These are topics we in management are already discussing, but I appreciate your proactive contribution to this ongoing dialogue.”

“Thanks, Ace. I just love being a part of what’s going on here.”

Ace nodded. “We see you.”

Once Ace returned to his office, and Zoe had given Ace the printout, she hurriedly reopened the IM screen. She knew that Chardonnay would wonder what happened and then eventually figure out she’d been interrupted. As Zoe scanned the screen, she realized it had taken her friend a minute to realize they’d been interrupted.

Got what?

Hello?

You mad because I’m talking ‘bout your man, Zoe? You might as well go on after him ‘cause you ain’t never gonna be Mrs. Toussaint.:)

Okay, Mr. Boss Man must have walked out and put you on lock. Hollah later …

Zoe closed the IM screen and went back to work. She tweaked a PowerPoint presentation, separated the day’s mail, and filed the stack of papers that had piled up on her desk. She then went to the restroom where she freshened up her makeup and spritzed on perfume. She popped a mint in her
mouth, took another look at herself in the mirror, pulled in her stomach, and proceeded to the conference room and to her fantasy man.

Zoe was the person who prepared the room for meetings and as such was the first to arrive. Shortly after she’d filled the pitchers with lemon water and placed them on the table along with napkins and glasses, Adam, Malcolm, Ace, Toussaint, Shyla, and a couple others joined her. She was hoping to sit next to Toussaint and share some small talk, but Shyla quickly claimed that spot. It didn’t matter. As soon as everyone was seated around the table, Adam began the meeting.

“I have some good news,” he said, sitting up in his chair. “Torrance Edwards, the young man who was burned back in June, is doing much better. He had his last skin graft last week, and his family seems pleased with how he’s progressed thus far. Additionally, all of the lawyers have finally agreed on a settlement amount. Our insurance covers it, so we should be able to close the books on this ordeal in the next few weeks.”

Shyla was itching to ask what he’d received but knew that was not her business. She made a mental note to ask Toussaint later.

Zoe wondered about the settlement amount as well.
That could be one way for Char to quit her job
, she thought in jest. Zoe loved her job and respected the Livingstons too much to ever suggest doing something so underhanded as getting hurt on purpose to collect insurance money. But goodness knew that Chardonnay’s other option—meeting a man with pockets deep enough to take care of her and her kids and who didn’t sling crack—looked less likely with each passing day. Cognac was seven and Tangeray was five. Pretty soon there would be no more babies needing a daddy. But Chardonnay would still need a man.

“Regarding the company’s financial picture,” Adam continued, “we’ve had a bit of a setback. The bank has decided not to grant an extension on our loan payment. We’ve put in an
application for an additional line of credit. It’s imperative that it go through.”

“Or what?” Malcolm asked.

No one answered. Everyone knew that bankruptcy loomed ever closer on the horizon.

Adam cleared his throat and looked at his twin brother. “Give us some good news regarding operations, Ace.”

Although by most corporate ladder structures, Ace, as COO, was beneath Adam, who was CEO, these two brothers shared equal power at the Livingston Group. Adam valued Ace’s opinion almost as much as he did their dad’s, and he never made a decision without consulting him—and vice versa. As for Ace, he’d always preferred operating behind the scenes and possessed a calm confidence that allowed him to not be affected by Adam’s more vocal role in the company. It was an interesting switch, because outside the office, Adam was the more conservative one while Ace livened up the party. As Ace succinctly shared his information and answered questions, his proficiency and expertise was evident, as was his subdued swagger. “Even though we’ve had to overhaul both the Dallas and Houston kitchens as a precaution against further accidents,” Ace concluded, “operations are running smoothly.”

Adam nodded at Ace and poured himself another glass of water. “Toussaint has submitted a second, more extensive plan regarding the expansion he introduced at our biannual meeting. We’ve tabled the franchise idea—”

Toussaint shifted, causing Adam to look at him. “For now,” Adam continued, nonplussed. “However, after carefully reviewing the other parts of his proposal, I’ve concluded that further discussion is warranted, especially the idea of branching out into other markets. Toussaint?”

“In Los Angeles, there are two major soul food restaurants, M&M Restaurant, which has two locations, and a place called Aunt Kizzy’s Back Porch.”

“What about that chicken and waffle place?” Ace asked.
He and Diane had vacationed in Los Angeles the previous year and had dined at Roscoe’s House of Chicken ‘n Waffles.

“Researched them too,” Toussaint replied. “Roscoe’s has definitely made a name in LA, with five locations that stretch from Pasadena to Long Beach. But they don’t qualify as a bona fide soul food restaurant. Nobody out there has what we’re bringing. I’ll be flying out there the first week in October to visit these establishments and continue my development research.”

Two pairs of ears perked up at this news. Shyla’s mind went into overdrive for a way she could accompany him. Something had changed between them, and Shyla was almost certain it involved another woman. Toussaint had been distant for the past two weeks, and they’d been intimate only once. His excuse that he’d been too swamped sounded legit, but Shyla knew different. Toussaint was too virile, too sexual, too potent to be celibate for long.

Zoe also fantasized about rendezvousing with Toussaint on the West Coast. But she knew that’s all it was, a pipe dream. She remembered Ace’s earlier comments and decided she’d do better to focus on climbing up the corporate ladder instead of into Toussaint’s bed. After all, she reasoned, Shyla had done that, and where had it gotten her? Zoe looked at Toussaint laughing at something his uncle had said and noticed the dimple she wanted to touch with her tongue, the sparkling white teeth against smooth coffee skin, the long tapered fingers that casually straightened a pin-striped tie, and imagined laying her head against the chest upon which that tie rested. She groaned inwardly, even as she began gathering her things to go back to her desk.
I’ll focus on the promotion. That’s my best shot to get ahead. But damn, like Chardonnay said two weeks ago, a woman can dream
.

21

C
hardonnay took one last drag from her Newport 100, flicked it out the window, and rolled her eyes.
Damn. I would have to roll up the same time as Bobby
. She took out her compact, powdered her face, and then used gloss to freshen her lips. Her delay tactic proved unsuccessful. Bobby had time to wait. He always arrived to work at least thirty minutes early and often stayed to finish his work even if he was off the clock. But Chardonnay was too outdone to be impressed. After two months, he was still begging to taste her juice and threatening to expose her with what he swore he’d photographed. Chardonnay sat for a couple minutes while the latest cut from her favorite artist, Fantasia, finished playing on the radio. Then she huffed, puffed, grabbed her purse, and reluctantly exited her car.

“Thought you were never gonna get out,” Bobby yelled from across the parking lot. He posed against his Hyundai as if it were a Bentley.

Chardonnay decided to ignore him.

“You might want to stop swinging that onion long enough to come check out what I’ve got for you.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t want it,” Chardonnay said over her shoulder. Since seeing Bobby’s appendage three days ago, she’d
visited Q’s gym and had seen something even bigger. She’d gone in and inquired about membership. Q recognized her from the restaurant and gave her the tour. When he asked if she had any other questions about the equipment, she mentioned the one that interested her the most, the one he’d forgotten to show her. He took her to his apartment and “showed” her for the next three hours. “Chardonnay, where you going?”

“Didn’t you hear me? Whatever you’ve got, I don’t want to see it.”

“Even if it’s the phone with your pics on it?” This comment stopped Chardonnay in her tracks. Bobby had told her that he’d left his phone on an overnight trip to Louisiana, that this was why he hadn’t shown her the pictures. She’d thought he was lying, and that they didn’t exist.
Is this fool telling me the truth? Only one way to find out
.

Chardonnay turned around and marched over to the car. She wanted to slap the smug look off of Bobby’s face, but in light of what he might be holding in his hand, she thought better of it. “Let me see,” she said from about two feet away. “C’mon over here, baby girl. I won’t bite.”

“Coulda fooled me with those fangs in your mouth.”

“Damn, why you want to hurt a brother?”

“I ain’t got all day, Bobby. And I don’t have time for games. If you have something, show me. If not, leave me the fuck alone.”

“A’ight ‘den.” Bobby punched a couple buttons and then, holding the phone firmly in his hand, turned it around for Chardonnay to see.

Chardonnay’s heart had sped up as she waited, but now she let out a loud guffaw. “What? Is that all you got?” The picture was from behind and showed someone holding something in their hand, with their head bowed. Chardonnay confidently put her hand on her hip. “That picture don’t tell shit.”

“That’s just the first one. It’s like a movie right here.” He punched up the next picture.

Chardonnay squinted as she viewed this one. It was taken from behind as well but showed someone with a plate in their left hand, while their right hand was clearly between their legs. “That’s just someone with a plate of food,” Chardonnay said, her voice missing some of its previous bravado. “It ain’t me.” Still, she moved closer, waiting for the next piece of evidence.

Bobby clicked the next picture. “This ain’t you either?”

Chardonnay closed her eyes. Her heart sped up at the same time. Bobby had switched from the camera function to video. As the camera rolled, Chardonnay watched as she turned to the side, where she clearly could be seen stirring her finger in the plate. She then picked her nose
(damn, I forgot I did that!
) and swirled it in the plate again. The camera captured the broad smile she had on as she left the pantry. Her hand had been caught in her coochie, instead of the cookie jar, and it had all been caught on tape.

Chardonnay fell back against the Hyundai. “Damn, Bobby, this is some messed-up shit.”

Bobby laughed. “Ain’t it? Who in their right mind would do some shit like that, contaminate a customer’s food? Lawsuits have been won on less evidence, and if the FDA found out, they could shut the restaurant down!”

“I’m not talking about what I did,” Chardonnay hissed. “I’m talking about your lowdown ass. How you gonna dis a sistah, who’s trying to make it just like you?”

“Oh, I’m the muthafucka? Just because I caught you being a very bad girl? Ha! I’m not gonna try and blackmail you, Chardonnay. I could, but I’m not. Now here’s what you can do for me. Lighten up, and give me a chance.”

Chardonnay let out a string of expletives while digging for her cigarettes. “Bobby, you need to delete that shit, for real.”

“And you need to stop tripping and go out with me.”

“Fine, okay? Fine! I’ll go out with you. One time. Then … will you leave me alone?”

“If you want me to.”

“And delete the pictures?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then come over this Friday. I’ll give you my address when we close up.”

Bobby watched Chardonnay as she walked away. He began to get hard just watching, thinking that in a couple days that ass would be his.
It wasn’t pretty getting here, but we’re here now. And once I get you, I don’t intend to let you go
.

22

“B
aby, really, I’m fine.” Toussaint reached for his glass of wine on the bar and walked toward his open patio doors. He’d worked almost nonstop the past three weeks and had taken the afternoon off, partly to rest and partly to enjoy the luxurious surroundings to which he was still becoming accustomed. The redesigned environment made him feel so good that for the first time in his life, he’d rather stay home than go out. The only thing missing was someone with whom to share his castle. Someone like Alexis. Everywhere his eye landed, he saw her touch. “Yeah, sorry, Shyla, I’m still here … just distracted.”