The Trouble with Luv'. Pamela Yaye
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met some stuffy, uptight men before, but no one had ever turned her down twice. Who knows, she thought, protecting her hair with a plastic shower cap, maybe this is one of those blessings in disguise aunt Mae is always talking about. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”
Chapter 4
Xavier masked his disappointment with a spurious smile. Where is everybody? he wondered hopelessly. Three elderly women and their stern-faced husbands were seated on orange chairs, getting acquainted. Xavier had been counting on twenty volunteers for the program; he’d be lucky if he ended up with ten. He checked his watch and was surprised to see that it was minutes to seven.
At the close of the banquet, scores of people, both young and old, had surrounded him to hear more about the Changing Lives Through Meals program. They praised what the church was doing, and seemed eager to get involved. Where are those people now? Xavier didn’t know why he was so upset; this happened every year. People gave lip service to helping out and giving back to the community, but when it came time for them to step up, they fell back.
Creak.
Xavier’s head snapped up. Creak. Creak. Creak. Someone was trying to open the door. Another volunteer! Xavier jumped to his feet, flew down the hall at the speed of light and took the stairs two at a time. He reached the foyer in seconds. But when he saw who was at the door, he came to an abrupt halt. What is she doing here? He was desperate for volunteers, but not that desperate. His brief conversation at the banquet with the overtly sexual woman was still fresh in his mind. Xavier didn’t allow his thoughts to linger on the past; there was no way of knowing where they would take him and he was in the house of the Lord. Scratching the side of his face, he tried to remember her name. He would feel bad if he had to ask her her name, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember. Xavier concentrated for a few seconds. She was named after a color. That much he knew for sure.
Blue? Naw, that’s stupid. Nobody names their daughter Blue!
Raven? No.
Violet? Definitely not.
Xavier moved forward. The poor woman was wrestling with two gargantuan black pots, several plastic bags bearing the Ralph’s Gorcery logo were swinging from her wrists, and here he was standing here watching her like a mannequin.
“Looks like you could use some help,” he noted, snapping out of his musings and relieving her of the pots.
Massaging the tenderness out of her wrists, she smiled her thanks.
After a brief pause, Xavier greeted her warmly. “It’s nice seeing you again.”
Ebony’s nose wrinkled. “It’s nice seeing me again?” she repeated, the doubtful look on her face carried into her tone. “Funny, I got the distinct impression you didn’t like me.”
Xavier opened his mouth to dispute her claim but the words didn’t come. She was right; he didn’t like her. The collar on his striped dress shirt and the accompanying tie were suddenly stifling. Her eyes rolled over his face and he wisely looked away.
Oblivious to his discomfort, Ebony apologized for being late. “I’ve been driving around this neighbourhood for the last ten minutes trying to find this church. I couldn’t remember what side of the block it was on.”
“No worries, you’re right on time. We haven’t even started yet.” Then, “Is this everything?”
Ebony nodded.
The aroma seeping out of the pots was tormenting Xavier’s empty stomach. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply. “Something sure smells good.” He motioned with his head to the pots. “What do you have in here?”
Ebony pointed to the pot in his right hand. “Sweet and sour meatballs. The other one has fried chicken. The vegetable casserole, coconut rice and cream and mushroom soup are in these grocery bags.” She trailed him downstairs, appreciating the view of his tight butt and muscular legs. Does the man ever have a body on him!
Xavier ducked into the kitchen, leaving Ebony in the banquet hall with the others. She blinked rapidly, as her eyes took in their surroundings. Was this the same room she had been in four days ago? The dim lights and oversize paintings had concealed flaky paint, crumbling borders and a stained and tattered carpet. The once elegantly dressed tables were now bare, revealing food stains, pen markings and chipped wood.
A fair-skinned woman, wearing an auburn wig, which looked like it was clinging to her head for dear life, waved her over. “Hello there,” she greeted, with a full smile on her plump, collagen-enhanced lips. “I’m Sister Bertha and the man over there in the beige fedora is my husband. Say hello to the pretty lady, Willy.”
When the man did as he was told, Ebony said, “It’s nice meeting you both.”
“Wow! Your hair is just too cute.” Sister Bertha touched her nape with clawlike fingernails. “All the big celebrities are wearing their hair like you. I just love the cut. Do you think I should do my hair like that?”
Sister Bertha fluffed her hair and Ebony just about fell out laughing. The sixty-something woman evidently thought she had it going on in her chartreuse A-line dress, multicolored sandals and heavy makeup. The ensemble was hideous, but Ebony couldn’t help admiring the old lady’s spunk. She didn’t know about the others, but she was going to get along just fine with Sister Bertha. “I think it would look great,” she lied, averting her gaze. God, forgive me for lying in church.
Sister Bertha introduced her to the others. Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne were the oldest couple, and the introductions seemed to interrupt a heated argument; Maria and Jules Hernandez were a nice-looking Mexican couple, who confessed that they had celebrated their thirtieth wedding anniversary yesterday. After offering her congratulations, Ebony excused herself and set out to find the unbelievably handsome program coordinator. She didn’t have to look very far. Xavier stood at the back of the kitchen, with a plate of food in his hand and a fork in his mouth.
“What are you doing?”
The sound of Ebony’s voice startled Xavier.
She pointed a finger at the stove, which was topped with plastic bags, casserole dishes and various sizes of pots and containers. Fixing a hand on her lap, she said, “The food you’re eating is supposed to be for the homeless.”
“I know, but—”
“But nothing. Put down that plate and step away from the stove before I call Sister Bertha in here.” The tone of her voice was harsh, but Xavier could tell by the way her mouth was twitching that she was trying hard not to laugh.
Xavier did what he was told, but not before he ate the last three meatballs on his plate. Shamefaced, he threw his hands up in surrender. “Guilty as charged. I was in here tasting the food. But I was starving and the food smelled so good!” He grabbed a napkin from the counter and cleaned his mouth. “You sure can cook! Those are the best sweet and sour meatballs I’ve ever had.” He walked toward her, a smile playing on his lips. “It’s true what they say, you know. The fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”
That’s not the only way, Ebony thought, returning his smile.
He pointed at the stainless steel pot he had carried into the kitchen. “You’re going to have to teach me how to make those.”
What’s the harm in letting him think I cooked the food? It might help him see me in a better light. Deciding she wasn’t breaking any of the Ten Commandments by not correcting him, she said, “I’m glad the food is to your liking, Xavier, but keep in mind it’s for the less fortunate. I didn’t slave over a hot stove for three hours so you can eat it all up before the guests arrive.” Ebony ignored the guilt pricking her heart. She waved a hand toward the stove. “It’s hard work cooking all that food.” Now you’re overdoing it, said a voice. Remember, less is always more.
Xavier cocked his head to the right. He crossed his arms over his chest as he locked eyes with the woman sharing his personal space. Oval-shaped face. Accentuated cheekbones. Small, even teeth flanked