They both stood smiling and nodding. “Tonight is about you and only you. Enjoy the company of yourself. Dinner is on me.” Drea winked
Normally the idea to dine out alone seemed insane, but I felt this sense of confidence to do so. “Cool. What are you gals going to do tonight?”
“London and I will take this time to bond. Its been a while right, London?” The fear etched on London’s face made Drea and I laugh.
“Good night, ladies.” I waved locking up.
“Good evening Ms. Jefferson.” My chariot was an all-white Range Rover with a handsome older gentleman as my chauffeur. Blinking rapidly, I glanced back towards my house. Drea and London were in the window waving.
“Hi. Good evening.”
I had no idea where they were sending me and oddly, I wasn’t at all nervous. More excited than anything. I’d enjoy dinner with a glass of wine. Maybe they’ll have a live band that I can sway to. People watching and making up scenarios in my head.
On the back seat next to me sat an arrangement of tulips with a note.
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I gasped reading Mya Angelou’s Phenomenal Woman poem. It wasn’t the entire poem but the parts that were listed made my eyes misty.
“There’s tissue in the compartment to your right.” The driver spoke.
Sniffling and dabbing my eyes, my mind wandered to who and why. Andrea. Gosh, she made my heart burst. The words. Their meaning. A reminder to me that I am phenomenally created in the image of God.
I sat back unaware of our destination filled with pride and joy. That short passage of the poem provided the extra strength I needed to enjoy dinner with myself. To enjoy my own company. To love me. To appreciate the woman God created me to be.
The truck slowed down in front of Steak 48, my favorite restaurant. I had to find a way to thank Drea for this. Her selflessness is so gratifying.
“Evening, Ms. Jefferson.” The hostess greeted me. Like seriously, how did all these people know my name?
“Uh, hi.”
“Please follow me.”
We bypassed the bar and main dining area. She continued leading me out to the back deck area that held tables with drapes for a more intimate night. Taking a step past her into my private dining bungalow my heart stopped. No, I take that back because, for this sight, I needed my heart. Drool, yes. Drool fell from my mouth…and I gasped…yes, the sight before me caused a whisper of a gasp to breeze past my lips as my eyes turned into UFO saucers.
Donned in a dark smoke grey three-piece suit with a lavender shirt underneath the waistcoat, stood Quincey ‘mothalovin’ Reid. A matching tulip to the bunch I held in my hand sat in his.
What is going on right now? Had I not just cried my eyes out to this man about another man, I’d be appreciating this view in another manner.
His stride even commanded you to stand at attention. To make it worse he smelt delectable. Enticing. Heavenly. Luscious. He smelt like every synonym for the word delicious.
“Evening, Jacolby. You look beautiful. Have a seat.” The words dropped from those fleshy lips were as cool and clear as the ice water I desperately needed to quench my thirst.
Following his orders, I followed him around the table. Could he get any more dreamy? He held out my chair and pushed me in. In front of me sat another note. Glancing at him, he nodded for me to read it.
Goodnessssss.
I was going to be a crying mess before I ordered my first appetizer. The note was the rest of the poem.
“Breathe, Jacolby.” How? How sway? How did he expect me not to become overly emotional? I’m dressed to outshine any prom queen. My face is semi-beat to the gods. I smell alluring. Got drivers picking me up from my house with flowers and letters of owning my femineity. Then I’m sitting across from this king of a man with power so exuberating that my brain is about to explode, and he wants me to breathe?
“Q-Quincey, why? What is all this for? Is this some sick game or joke?” Seeing his jaw tighten and face harden, I regretted opening my mouth. “I…I’m just confused is all.”
The muscles in his face relaxed, but the seriousness was still there. “I am a man who doesn’t joke or play games with anyone especially the feelings and emotions of a woman. Understood?” Without hesitation, I nodded.
He stood to remove his jacket, and my eyes followed every move. “Tonight is about you. We, you and I, are celebrating you. Can I celebrate you?”
What fascinated me so was that he and Paxton were very similar when it came to how they treated women. Gosh, I missed my Pi so much.