The Build Up (29)

“Actually, Bella, there is something I wanted to talk to you about...”

“Oh!” Bella perked up in her seat, adjusting her perfect ponytail and letting her bangles hit the table with a resounding thud of anticipation. “I’m tipsy enough to receive the tea. So go ahead...”

I twirled a finger around an errant curl, winding it tightly around my finger. “Well, there is this situation... I did something I shouldn’t have. And...”

Just as I was about to spill my guts about last night, I heard someone call my name above the bumping bass of the Damian Marley’s “Welcome to Jam Rock.”

Standing in front of me, in simple khaki shorts and short-sleeved palm-tree printed shirt, was the most delicious thing that wasn’t on the menu. His eyes, the exact color of the trees on his shirt, danced as faint smile lines appeared at their corners.

“Porter?”



Chapter Eleven


Porter


“Porter?” Ari questioned, staring at me with a look I could only describe as horrified.

Her friend looked at me curiously and smiled, then looked back at Ari with a raised brow. I couldn’t tell if something amused or aggravated her.

“Hey, I just saw you over here. I was at the bar with my brother,” I said. I extended my hand to her lunch guest, who I noticed wore an obnoxiously large, but gorgeous, wedding ring. “Hi. I’m Porter.”

The friend smiled and shook my hand. “Oh, I know who you are. I’m Bella La Croix. Best friend. Confidant. Alibi if need be.”

I smiled. So, this was the infamous Bella that Jamal was reminiscing about. I could see why. She was a beauty, but the real stunner at the table was Ari. I watched as she adjusted herself in the booth, her jaw tight with nervousness.

“Ah, Bella. I’ve heard so much about you,” I said, trying to cut the awkward tension I felt. I really didn’t know anything about Bella, but I was trying to be overly polite. It wasn’t clear if my usual dose of charm was working. Bella looked puzzled and then looked at Ari.

“Right!” Bella looked at Ari with a very quizzical look. Their looks, a secret language, told me that maybe I’d interrupted something.

“I’ll let you all enjoy your lunch. I just wanted to say hello. Ari, you look...beautiful, by the way. See you Monday.”

Before she could reply, I turned quickly and went back to the bar where my brother was standing, looking utterly confused.

“Dude, you left me to go talk to a girl! Devin’s got our table ready. I’m hungry as shit!” Todd playfully nudged me as we walked toward our table.

“I was just saying hello to my coworker, Ari.”

Todd peered over my shoulders, sipping on his rum and coke. “Oh, yeah. Ari is the chick you all just hired, right? She’s fine...you know I like them slenderoni.” Todd was looking directly at Bella, giving her a thorough inspection.

“No, Todd... That’s her friend Bella. It was the other girl. In the yellow.”

Todd looked again, craning his neck. “Oh.” And then he fell silent as he continued to sip his drink.

“What does that mean? Oh?” I asked. I knew what that meant. Todd was being Todd—a judgmental asshole.

“When you said your coworker was cute, she’s not what I was expecting. That’s all,” said Todd. “I mean she’s cute. But not what I expected.”

“I didn’t say she was cute. I didn’t say anything.”

“Saying nothing meant she was cute, and you didn’t want to confirm it.”

I looked back over at Ari, who was now looking at me. I mouthed “Sorry.” And she mouthed back “It’s okay,” her face a bit flush. I smiled. She was cute when embarrassed. I kind of liked it.

“Fuck, I think I ruined her lunch with her girl,” I said woefully. I stared at Ari. She looked over at me and smiled. Dressed in yellow, Ari reminded me of a Starburst. In fact, Ari’s kisses tasted just as sweet and were just as juicy.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could feel Todd looking at me and then back at Ari, a smug look coming over his face.

“Whatever you have to say, Todd, just say it!”

“Holy shit! Did you fuck her? Your...um...coworker,” Todd yelled. A couple of drinks in, he was getting wound up. Even over the seductive thump of Sean Paul’s “I’m Still in Love,” I could hear Todd’s voice. “Damn, dude! You didn’t waste no time getting in the drawers!”

A table of older women looked over at my brother, mortified. I grabbed his arm and led him toward our empty private chef’s table in a back corner of the restaurant.

“Pipe down, Todd!” I put my fingers on my collar, feeling beads of sweat forming despite the air conditioner blasting full tilt. “Nothing happened. Well, not nothing...”

Todd narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean ‘not nothing’?”

Before I could explain, Devin, Dunn’s River head chef, came out to greet us at the table. Dressed in a gray chef coat with a Jamaican flag on it, he and Todd exchanged a bear hug.

“Yo, Devin. This is my brother, Porter. He’s cool, but forgive him, he went to Hampton,” said Todd. I knew it was coming and laughed. Todd and Devin attended Howard, the other HU, unfortunately.

“Oh, so your brother ain’t shit then, huh?” said Devin. “Just kidding. Nice to meet you, man. Todd talks about you all the time.”