A Test of Love: Interracial Erotic Romance (Chasing Love) (6 page)

All annoyance left my body. A god stood before me. I didn’t think it would be a big deal for him to be on the plane, never even considered how I would react with the star power around me. I should’ve considered it because as soon as he glanced my way, I froze with a silly grin across my face. Chase had the nerve to chuckle.

“You all must eat.” Chef Dubois clapped his hands hard. The sound echoed in the room as everyone grabbed their silverware. “The sear won’t hold after waiting for so long. You must eat it immediately after before the crisp softens and those fine-tuned juices grow cold.”

Clearing my throat, I cut into my square.

“What is this meat?” Troy poked the brown square with his fork. “It doesn’t smell like steak.”

“It is not steak.” A grim expression spread over Chef Dubois’s face. “You must eat it.”

“I don’t eat stuff that I don’t know the name of,” Troy countered. I kicked him under the table. “Fuck! Jazz, what was that for?”

“Just try it,” I said.

“Hell, no. Especially since you’re willing to try it. You have no taste in food.”

“Really?” Chase raised his eyebrows. “I find her taste in food impeccable and adventurous.”

“That’s because you ’weren’t around her back in the day. Jazz used to play tricks on me and eat nasty things like worms. Once, she bit into one and raved about how it tasted like watermelon Jolly Ranchers. She knew that was my favorite flavor. My dumb behind grabbed a whole bunch of worms and shoved them into my mouth like an idiot.”

“I remember that.” Vivian’s somber expression shifted to slightly amused. “You kept vomiting that day. I’d spent the night and every time I had to use the bathroom I had to wait for so long for you to stumble out of there.”

“I kept throwing up that whole week.” Troy touched his stomach.

“We were six. At what point in time will you get over that day?” I sliced into my meat. Steam rose at the cut center. Hot juices rushed out onto the plate. If I’d had a warm biscuit, I would’ve gathered up that yummy liquid.

“It took me a year to get that nasty taste out of my mind,” Troy continued. “I’ll never get over it, and you never stopped tricking me with food.”

Chase put his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand. “What’s the worst thing that she got you to eat?”

“Please don’t get him going.” I waved my hands. “And by the way, Troy, no one told you to pile ten worms in your mouth. I said taste one.”

“I like watermelon jolly ranchers. You said they tasted like that. What was I supposed to do?”

“Not eat them. Clearly.”

Chef Dubois did not look pleased as he watched us go back and forth. As the dutiful customer, I sliced off a nice chunk of the mystery meat, closed my eyes, placed it in my mouth, and prepared myself for the ride.

Fuck. I wish I had a seat belt.

Instead, I held on to the edge of the table as flavor exploded in my mouth. Cinnamon or maybe nutmeg collided with some sort of earthy mushroom sauce. The outer flesh of the meat was thick and crisp, the inner, fatty and tender. Health nuts thought fat was overrated and bad. They sliced it off their meats and kept it away from their dishes. If I could meet one health nut right now, I would slap him. The dish began and ended with this flavorful fat, so lush it oozed with memories of grandma’s large stew pots on a chilly winter day. Those meals put out such a huge aroma that the whole block was hungry, just wondering what the Montgomery’s were eating that evening. When Grandma passed away, dinner never meant the same thing,and Mom went wilder than ever.

I opened my eyes. “This reminds me of my grandma’s ox tails.”

“Now, that’s a compliment.” Chef Dubois bowed.

I checked everyone else at the table. They all stared at me. Troy huffed and returned to his wine. Chase and Vivian rushed to their forks and dove in, both murmuring praise as they chewed.

“So will you tell us what type of meat this is?” Troy asked.

“You must guess.” Chef Dubois wagged his finger.

“It’s not giraffe,” I said. “I’ve watched you make it a few times. If I remember correctly, it looks like beef.”

Troy held his glass in midair. “Did you just say giraffe?”

“I’m ignoring you.” I tried another bite and gazed up at Chef Dubois. “I have no idea. I mean. It’s a different flavor altogether. There’s this sense of the wild in it, but I don’t think it’s game meat at all.”

“I’m almost scared to know what it is.” Chase licked his knife. A small shiver ran up my back. Thank God he didn’t catch I,t or he’d be guiding his lovely tongue up things the rest of the night.

“It isn’t cow and definitely not lamb.” I went back to analyzing the meat. “Yeah, not lamb. I would know lamb with a blindfolded and only my tongue as a guide. However, it really reminds me of that same flavor.”

“You’re very close. It isn’t lamb.” Chef Dubois rubbed his hands together. “It is a full grown sheep, but the choice of cut is the back fat.”

“Come again?” Troy raised one eyebrow.

Vivian giggled. “We’re eating a sheep’s ass cheeks.”

Chef Dubois blushed. Chase coughed and reached for his water. I plopped some more of the back fat into my mouth.

“Hey, it’s the best ass I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a whole lot of ass in my mouth.”

Chase coughed like he was about to choke. Troy hit his back a few times. Chase recovered and pushed his plate to the side. “Sorry, Jasmine. I have my limits.”

At that, I gave Chase a thumbs down while Chef Dubois excused himself. I believe I was the only one who caught the scowl on the chef’s face. It made me want to flip off the whole table. Had they not seen the genius of this man like I had? He just made a sheep’s bottom appetizing?

Brilliant!

“And in reference to that ass comment you made, please, say no pun intended,” Troy begged. “I really don’t want to go there with you.”

“Oh, goodness. I haven’t had actual human butt in my mouth, but I’ve surely sampled on animal behind many times. We all have. It’s called hotdogs. They’re made from everything the butcher doesn’t use for the good cuts.” I held a finger up. “We’re talking not only butt, but snouts, nails, intestines, and tits. Then it’s all blended into this god-awful muck, liquefied out of all its flavor, and mixed with corn syrup. After that disgusting practice, then they fill it in some nasty tubing. You’re telling me you would rather eat a hot dog than Chef Dubois’s sheep butt?”

“Hell, yes.” Troy nodded.

“I’m with your brother.” Chase tapped Troy’s glass with his and sipped.

“You all suck.” I went after my risotto and gave up on my attempt to expand their minds.

Vivian hadn’t said much. Her meat was gone, her risotto and salad almost destroyed.

Well, at least she’s eating. That’s a great sign. Maybe food will help conquer some of our problems.

“Why are you looking at me?” Vivian glanced my way.

“We’re sisters in the sheep butt debate. I’m excited. We usually don’t agree on food.”

She rolled her eyes. It was probably due to the mention of sisters. She’d asked me never to say that word. I ‘did my best to oblige, slipping up a few times. It wasn’t the fact that she didn’t want me to be her sibling. We’d already declared we were related at the young ages of six. What bothered her is that
sister
was a constant reminder of her heartbreak, and to get over that would take time.

“Why are we all going to Italy?” she asked.

“It’s nice there this time of year,” Chase said.

I shook my head. “We’re going to solve these murders.”

“Correction. I’m having my people check on the location of a gun. I just wanted to go there to show them the actual place and possibly supervise for a few seconds. However, you and I will be lounging on the beach and your brother and Vivian will be doing. . .whatever they want to do.”

Tension thickened in the space. I ran my fingers through my short hair. “I won’t be lounging on the beach. Someone shot me. I want to be where the gun is located and watch them as they pull it out. Frankly, I don’t trust your people. If they’re yours, then they know Lucy and I think Lucy is the one who did it.”

“I don’t think so.” Chase slid his thumb along the rim of his wine glass. “She’s not violent like that.”

“She’s weird,” I argued.

“That doesn’t mean she would shoot you.”

“It means she would approach situations differently than others. She burned sage in my office when I started.”

Chase shrugged. “That’s not really evidence for murder.”

“Says the guy who’s been banging her for years,” Vivian said.

“We’ve never had sex,” Chase countered.

“Oh, goodness, is this the one sister wife who only watches?” Vivian asked me.

“Yes,” I said.

“Watch who have sex? My sister?” Troy put his glass down and glared at Chase.

I waved my hands from side to side. “Okay. Let’s all ease up on Chase. Lucy never watched me have sex with anybody, but she did explain to me that she didn’t like to have sex. She only watched.”

Vivian leaned Chase’s way and targeted the point of her knife to his neck. “Explain, please.”

We all directed our attention to Chase. ’He may well have been used to pressure himself, but not from people like us. Vivian wasn’t from my hood, but she played there enough with me to have the boom of the streets flowing through her veins. People in my neighborhood would point and say, “Now, that’s a tough little white girl right there.”

Like me, she’d wrestled with my older brothers for years. When Jon Jon from apartment 4C kicked her and yanked up her shirt, she chased him four blocks and whipped his bony behind. My big brother, Sherman, held Troy and me back, explaining that we couldn’t fight Vivian’s battles all the time or more people would pick on her. I’d hated to admit it, but Sherman was right. She fought two more times after that, and then no one messed with her anymore. By the time she hit her teens, they had all stopped bullying her the boys began drooling over her figure instead.

“And what am I explaining?” A hardened mask slipped over Chase’s usually calm face. Gone was the loving man. The pit bull of Wall Street appeared. They’d dubbed him that in a magazine article I’d read while researching him. The smile disappeared. His eyes darkened. He placed his hands under the table and sat back in his chair. “Ask away.”

“Who do you think shot Jasmine?” Vivian asked.

“Dawn.”

“Why?”

“Because she hates Jasmine the most.”

I leaned back in my chair. My appetite left with the little cheeriness of the meal. My stomach tightened. I hoped I wouldn’t vomit everything up. It wasn’t that I was scared, just enraged. I didn’t like battles where people didn’t play fair. If Dawn wanted me gone, she should’ve approached me herself, not from far away down a darkened alley with a gun.

Vivian crossed her arms over her chest. “What are
you
doing to protect Jasmine?”

“As you see, I kidnapped Jasmine and plan to keep her next to me the entire time until this person is discovered.”

“Which may be Dawn?” Vivian asked.

“Yes.”

“Where is Dawn now?” she asked.

He averted his eyes. “I don’t know. My men can’t find her.”

Now I leaned forward. “Excuse me? What do you mean you can’t find Dawn?”

“They’re all missing,” Chase said.

“Even Lucy?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Three rich chicks are gone after my sister is shot.” Troy poured himself a second glass. “I say let’s go after all of them.”

“You sound like Benny,” Chase said.

Not a good idea. Troy really doesn’t want to be compared to our. . .dad.

“I’m not him.” Troy seized the whole bottle and set it next to his plate instead. “If Benny were involved, he would just kill them all and think the problem was solved. I at least want to make sure the person deserves to die.”

Vivian dropped her fork and scowled at him. “T-that’s not something my dad or you would do.”

“You don’t know him like I do. And you damn sure don’t know me if you don’t think I’ll kill someone who deserves it.” Troy took a swig from the bottle.

“Stop it, Troy,” I muttered.

“Then maybe we should shift our discussion to my father since apparently he’s a mass killer now.” ’Vivian’s bottom lip quivered. “Does anybody have anything to say about him? Let’s just get it all out now.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” I picked at my mixed greens. “In fact, let’s change all the topics to something more enlightening. What were we talking about? Hot dogs. Do you know the most expensive hot dog in the world is served in Vancouver? It’s made with—”

“I don’t care about hot dogs. I want to hear why Troy thinks my father is a killer and is always hinting around at that. And Chase is over here with his knowing look as if what Troy is saying about Dad is justified.”

I checked Chase’s smirking face and mouthed the word, “Stop it.”

He changed his expression. “Tell me about this hot dog, my love.”

“It’s made with lobster, Kobe beef seared in olive sauce, and truffle oil. The restaurant serves it for a hundred dollars,” I said.

“That’s not a bad price,” Chase admitted.

“That’s fucking ridiculous for a stupid hot dog.” Vivian seared Troy with her gaze. “Go ahead and spill it. Why do you think my father is capable of murder? Sure he’s a lying cheating bastard that hid a major secret from us all of our lives, but a killer, now that’s something I need to know about.”

“Troy is drunk,” I said. “Let’s leave it alone.”

“He got rid of a body for me once.” Troy drank more from the bottle and then wiped his mouth. “Isn’t that right, Jazz?”

Chase and Vivian switched interested faces to me. I opened my mouth, closed it, and then punked out and said, “In New York there’s this sundae that costs a thousand dollars.”

Vivian sighed. Chase raised his eyebrows. “Interesting. What’s in it?”

“Please, stop encouraging her,” Vivian huffed.

“We’re talking Tahitian vanilla ice cream infused with Madagascar vanilla beans. I have no idea if these two things are awesome, but I want to try them,” I said. “Then on top of the sundae, you have 23k edible gold leaf, gold dragnets—