“No, I’m okay. You can wait for me in the living room.”
“Take your time. I have to make a few calls anyway.” I left her to it and went back downstairs to wait for her just as my phone rang. I looked at the caller ID, noticing it was Micheal, our manager, fromLaBella’scalling.
“What’s up, Mikey?”
“Mr. Aldana, we have a situation here at the restaurant. A customer claims they found glass in their food, which I believe was put in there purposely, and not by the staff members.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Comp their meal, get their names, and put them on the DNR list. Make sure you print out their photos and put them up in the back so everyone will know not to serve them again.”
“Will do, sir.” I hung up, shook my head, and opened my text thread. Yumi didn’t know that I ownedLaBella’s, and the reason for my being there last night was to pay my staff and hold a meeting with the chefs to create a new menu for the week.
When I saw her and that clown all hugged up and smiling, I knew I had to shut that shit down. Since Ashton Pryor and I were close associates, I had him call him away from the dinner on some false shit. I mean, it wasn’t totally false, because I needed someone found and followed, but it couldn’t have come at a perfect time.
I was going to keep interrupting their personal time together until she realized I was the only man she was going to spend the rest of her life with.
Me: Make sure you and E are ready for court on Monday. Don’t be bullshitting around in these streets. Be cool.
Mill: I ain’t no lil ass boy, Em. Did you find out where the water was leaking yet? We need to fix it before the house gets flooded and all our furniture gon’ be destroyed!
Me: I got this. Just make sure you move into the other house until it’s fucking fixed.
Mill:
I shook my head just as I heard feet coming down the stairs. Yumi was dressed in a long, red, silk gown with a silk robe to match. On her feet were three-inch sandals, and her hair wasnow in a ponytail to the back. I couldn’t help but admire her grace and sex appeal.
She had always been the graceful, hood valley girl, and it was one of the things I loved most about her. She may have been bourgeois, but she had that little around-the-way-girl demeanor that I’d like to think I put there.
“Hungry?” I asked her.
She rolled her eyes and headed toward the kitchen without a word. I stood and followed her, watching her pull glasses and plates from the cabinets and set them on the table.
I went to the oven and began removing the food I prepared.
“Are those your pineapple-glazed ribs?” she asked, looking around me.
I smirked. “You know it is, baby. Had to remind you of your favorite meal while we talk.” She didn’t reply, instead handing me a plate, and I began plating the food.
“I want you to know that just because you made my favorite meal doesn’t give you any brownie points.”
“I didn’t expect it to.” I handed her the plate with the food, and she handed me the empty one. I only put a small portion on my plate, covered the food, then took a seat at the dinner table with her. She had poured us a glass of wine and set out silverware wrapped in cloth napkins. I held my palms out for her to take while she looked at me skeptically and then placed her palms in mine.
“What up, my G? I ask that You bless this food that’s before us. Let it be of nourishment to our bodies and strengthen our health. Bless the less fortunate, and bless the hands that prepared it. Amen.” I released her hands then reached behind me on the counter for my bottle of Don 70.
“Tequila?” she queried.
“Best way to eat soul food.”
“I guess.”
“You on this with me?”
“Absolutely not. I’ve already been drinking with my colleague and had a glass of wine while bathing. I don’t need anything hard right now.”
I didn’t reply as I poured a shot and leaned back in my chair. “I’m listening whenever you’re ready to talk.”
