What Love Tastes Like (16 page)

Tiffany slowly took off her soiled apron and placed it in the laundry bin. She was thankful that the dinner crowd had kept her busy—the steady stream of customers hadn't abated until well after ten o'clock. But now, as she walked to her car, the thoughts that she'd held at bay came back full force.

She pulled out her cell phone, put on her headset, and navigated out of the parking lot. Before listening to messages she called Nick and got voicemail.

“Hey, baby, it's me. I just got off, was going to stop by. My dad came to the restaurant but left before I could see him. I wish you were there, Nick. I need you.”

She ended the call and punched the Message button. She had four new messages. The first was the earlier call she'd seen from her father.

“Hey, Tiffany, it's your dad. I'm in town, but not for long, maybe only a day. Would love to see you, maybe even stop by your restaurant. Give me a call when you get this message. Good-bye.”

The second call was from Joy, the third from Grand.

The last call was another message from her dad: “Hey, Tiffany. I was at the restaurant, but you know that. I hate that I had to leave without seeing you, but I got an urgent call from a business partner. A very big deal, baby, and a crucial meeting. We're headed over to his house for dinner right now. If my calendar will allow it, I'll stay an extra day to see you. If not, I should be back in a couple weeks. Oh, I had one of your taster scallops. Something about being amused?” Tiffany could hear a woman's laughter in the background. “Anyway, it was delicious, baby. All the food I ate tonight was outta sight. If you cooked that food, baby girl, you're a first-rate chef. I love you.”

Tiffany played the message again, and a third time. On the one hand, the message disappointed her. It was her dad being his old self, putting business first. This had been the way they'd rolled from the time she was born. She thought that with their reestablished connection, his actions would be different. But she'd thought wrong. With her dad, business would always come first.

Which brought her thoughts to Nick, who also gave business first priority. Yes, he was loving, kind, and attentive, but he was also a driven man who thrived when doing what he loved—making deals and making money. Lately, his schedule had been busier than ever, some new project he and the partner she'd met, Bastion Price, were working on. He'd been out of town most of the new year and when he wasn't, was closeted away in one meeting or the other. She'd only seen him once since they'd brought in the new year together. Tiffany had been too busy to notice she missed him, until now.

Tiffany pushed the Message button, going through the messages until she reached the last one, from her father. She smiled when his message neared the end. If she could, she'd put that last part on a loop and play it over and over again. Because she couldn't be certain, but she thought she was in high school when she'd last heard her father say those three magic words.

“Dad,” she said softly to the wind around her, “I love you, too.”

It was another rare day off. Tiffany had been working so much that she barely knew what to do with all the free time. There were errands to run and bills to pay, but after an hour online, she'd decided there were better things to do. Which was why she was ringing Joy's doorbell and sipping a vanilla latte from Starbucks.

“Hi, Tiffany,” Deuce said when he opened the door.

“Hey, Deuce. Where's your mother?”

“Where she always is…on the couch.”

“I heard that,” Joy yelled out.

“Reading,” Deuce whispered, with a frown.

Tiffany laughed. “You don't like to read?”

Deuce shook his head vigorously.

“You've got to read to get good grades, right?”

Deuce shrugged.

“Of course you do. What's your favorite subject?”

“Recess!” Deuce quickly shouted, and then dodged past Tiffany and ran outside.

“Your son's a mess,” Tiffany said, laughing as she walked into the living room. “But he's right about one thing. You've always got your head in a book.”

“You know this is my guilty pleasure. But I guess it is pretty bad when you have to get your excitement from a book.”

“What are you reading now?”

“I'm re-reading all of E. Lynn Harris's books. Man, he was one of my favorite authors. Even after all this time, it's hard to believe that he's gone. A part of me is still waiting for his next novel to come out.” Joy reached for the crumpled lottery ticket that doubled as a bookmark, marked her place and closed the book. “Okay, girl, tell me what's up.”

“It's nothing really, same old, same old.” Tiffany crossed over to the well-worn couch, stepping over toys and clothes and gossip magazines. Joy would never win the award for housekeeping, but she might nab one for most read books.

“Well, tell me about same old, same old. You want some chips and dip?”

Tiffany followed Joy into the kitchen and told her about Nick's ramped-up meetings and business travel, her own crazy schedule, and her dad's visit to the restaurant, ending with his untimely departure.

“Damn, that's jacked up.”

“Tell me about it.”

“But at least he called you and told you what happened.”

“But I had cooked this amazing dish for him and he just up and left without a second thought.”

“His phone call is proof he thought about you, Tiff. Don't beat yourself up over it, girl. What's done is done.”

“Yeah, I know you're right.”

“Have y'all talked since then?”

“Yeah, he wants me to visit him in Chicago. Can you imagine? I haven't been to a home my father's owned since college.”

“I haven't been to my daddy's house in my life, never even
seen
my sperm donor. For all I know, he could be Dr. Huxtable. So don't think you've got the market cornered on colored-girl stories, okay?”

After spending an hour at Joy's house, Tiffany left and headed for Grand's. She started to call her, and then decided to just drop by—like her Grand said they used to do back in the day. Nick was out of town once again, and she didn't feel like going home, with only Tuffy for company. She pulled up just in time to see her grandmother closing and locking her front door. She was wearing some cute capri jeans, an oversize top, and sandals. She was carrying a large tote bag in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.

“Hey, Grand.”

“Hi, Tiffany. Girl, what are you doing over this way?”

“I thought I was coming to see you.” The two ladies met and hugged in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Come on, you can go with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“You said you came to see me, so does it matter?”

“I guess not.”

She got into her grandmother's Mercury and fastened her seat belt. “I know how wild you drive,” she teased as Grand slowly backed out of the driveway. They rode down Crenshaw, sharing small talk. Her grandmother passed the Baldwin Hills Crenshaw Shopping Plaza, turned left onto MLK Boulevard, and turned into a parking lot just before reaching La Brea.

Tiffany put a hand to her head as realization dawned. “Oh, Grand,
please
tell me that this is not your bingo spot.”

Grand chuckled. “Okay, so I won't tell you.”

“Grand, this isn't funny. I'm not trying to spend my night around a bunch of old folk. Nothing personal, Grand, but…c'mon now!”

“No,
you
come on. Mess around with you and all the good seats will be gone!”

Tiffany had never played bingo in her life, but by the time the second half of the evening came around, she was acting like an old pro. She'd increased the two cards she'd started with initially to six, and—like her grandmother—was a dobbing fool. But when it came to cards, Tiffany couldn't believe how her Grand held it down. Not only did she mark her own ten cards, but she leaned over and caught numbers Tiffany had missed as well.

“Girl, you better keep up!” Grand warned. “Don't watch out, you're going to sleep on a bingo.”

Tiffany hunkered down and tried to focus. Her eyes flew from her cards to the big, lit board up front that showed the called numbers.
Ooh, I missed one.
Tiffany scooted to the edge of her chair. Checking her card again, she got excited. She only needed one more number, I-19.

The elderly man calling out the numbers reached into the popper for another white ball. “I…”
Oh my gosh, this is it, he's going to call my number!
“…eighteen, I-eighteen.”

“Bingo!” Grand held up her card and waved it in the air.

“Grand! That's not fair, he was supposed to call I-
nineteen
.”

Grand laughed and placed her winning card in front of Tiffany. “Read it and weep, baby, read it and weep!”

“So how much was that prize for, Grand?”

“It was the big one, baby. One
thousand
dollars!”

By the time the night ended, Tiffany had eaten bad junk food, dobbed cards until her hands were stained with blue and red ink, laughed harder and had more fun than she'd had in a while. They topped off the night with a pass through Taco Bell's drive-thru and got hot, sugary churros, just like they used to do when Tiffany was young. When she hugged Grand good night and got into her car, Tiffany was smiling. An entire evening had passed, and for the first time since she'd met him, and especially since their time apart had increased, she hadn't thought about Dominique LaSalle Rollins…not even once.

The air was so thick, it could be cut with a knife. Tiffany and Nick were in the sitting area of their master suite, and Tiffany was not happy. She'd been looking forward to the Italy vacation with Nick for weeks. And here he was canceling at the last minute? No, Tiffany was not amused.

“Baby, I feel horrible about this, worse than you do. You know how much I've wanted to go back to Italy with you, shoot, just to get some quality time with you. We've both been so busy since the holidays. If there was any way I could get out of going to New York, I would. But what's happening now threatens to unravel months and months of negotiations. If my partners and I don't move, right now, this venture might be snatched right out of our hands. It's the biggest deal I've tried to seal in my life.” Nick's countenance turned stormy. “I'm not about to let that happen.”

Nick's words were heartfelt, but they didn't remove the pout from Tiffany's face. “So what am I supposed to do with this time off, and you in New York?”

“Baby, you're welcome to come with me, you know that.”

“And sit in a hotel suite by myself all day? No, thank you.”

“Granted, these meetings will be long and intense. I probably won't have much down time. But who knows? The talks may go smoother than I anticipate and if that happens, we'll still have time to enjoy the city…and each other.” Nick walked over and sat on the love seat next to Tiffany. He took her in his arms, but she did not return his embrace. “Baby, it's business. It can't be helped.”

“Don't say that!” Tiffany shouted. “Don't give me that crap about business first and everything else second. You sound just like my father!” With that, Tiffany ran out of the room. The muffled sound of a closing door soon followed. Nick had no doubt that if his doors weren't equipped with special springs that prevented them from being slammed, his ears would now be ringing.

Nick sighed, still looking in the direction Tiffany had run. She'd shared a little bit about her and her father's previously strained relationship. But they were doing so much better now, weren't they? That's what Tiffany had led Nick to believe. So why was the business aspect of his life still such a sore spot for her?

Nick walked over to the sliding doors, opened one, and stepped out onto his patio. He inhaled a deep breath of salty ocean air. As he continued to ponder the situation, anger replaced compassion. Hell, it wasn't like Tiffany didn't know what he did for a living. She knew she was getting involved with a businessman. He'd never hidden his ambition. In fact, he'd shared his goals and dreams with her, had been open with his desires.
I've supported her career, encouraged her every step of the way.
So why should he stand here feeling guilty about simply being who he was?

“This is bullshit,” he muttered. Walking back into the house, he strode purposefully toward the master suite. He turned the knob on the door: locked. “Open this door, Tiffany! Dammit, girl, you will not lock me out of a room in my own home. Tiffany!”

Two minutes passed, then five. Nick prowled the halls like a angry bull. Another five minutes went by. By the time he remembered the master key he kept in a kitchen cabinet, Nick was furious. He couldn't get to that drawer fast enough, and once he'd retrieved the key, he stormed back down the hall to the bedroom suite as if Usain Bolt, the world-record holder for the one-hundred-meter sprint, was behind him. Just as he was about to put the key into the lock, the door swung open. Tiffany walked past him without speaking, her carry-on bag trailing behind her.

Nick's heartbeat quickened, and after being momentarily stunned into immobility, he followed Tiffany down the hall, catching up with her just as she reached the front door.

“What is this, Tiffany?”

“What does it look like, Nick?” Tiffany popped her car trunk and placed the carry-on inside. She walked back to the house.

Nick followed. “Ah, the runaway tactic. Of course. Tiffany doesn't get her way about something, so she's just going to take her ball and bat and play in somebody else's yard?”

Tiffany remained silent as she went into the master suite, retrieved a large tote from under the bathroom counter, and began methodically clearing off the toiletries that had accumulated at Nick's house during her many stays.

“Tiffany, look. You're being unreasonable. This is one trip, baby, out of a lifetime of opportunities to be together. You know the only reason I canceled our vacation is because I had no other choice!”

Tiffany eyed Nick a moment before slamming down the lid to the case, snatching it off the counter, and brushing past him. She didn't get far. Nick grabbed Tiffany's arm and swung her around. “Oh, you think you're just going to up and walk out of my house?”

“No, Nick. I'm going to walk right out of your life. Now, let me go.”

They were both breathing heavily, staring at each other without speaking. Finally, Nick released his hold on Tiffany. He put his hands on his hips and watched as she turned and walked back down the hall.

This time he didn't follow her. Nick wasn't going to apologize for who he was or what he did. Scarred childhood or no, Tiffany was being unreasonable. If she couldn't understand why he had to cancel, how important this trip was to his life and future, Nick reasoned, then she wasn't the woman for him.

“I don't have time for this,” Nick said angrily. He walked to his patio doors, put his hands on his hips and took a deep breath. A phrase that he'd heard a motivational speaker spout years ago came to mind, and he decided to heed it.
If a friend can walk away from you…let 'em leave.