Redemption (Iris Series) (16 page)

Ayanna let that sink in then said, “I’m so sorry.  Is she okay now?” Ayanna asked, her fingers crossed.

“Yeah.  She’s actually a rape counselor in Boston.  But that experience shaped my philosophies, obviously.  And if there’s ever an opportunity when I can help a woman who’s been hurt by a man, especially if it’s as a result from an assault, well, let’s just say it pushes my buttons.  I don’t care about the money.  I just want to see justice served.  That’s my priority.”

“Understood,” Ayanna said.  “You’re a good woman, Em.”

“I have my moments,” she muttered, so much like her cousin.  “If he contacts you in any way, whether it be by phone, email, through your blog, whatever, you tell me about it.  Then we’ll figure out the best course of action.”

“You got it, boss,” Ayanna said, feeling like she needed to salute.  Emily had that way about her.  It was one of the things Ayanna absolutely loved about the woman.

Before they disconnected, Emily mentioned she’d see her at the precinct in a few days, and interestingly, she sounded ecstatic about the self-defense class.  Maybe she too was looking forward to learning some new ways to kick some ass. 

Or maybe she just wanted to see the sexy and flirtatious Detective Michael Callahan.

“If I didn’t know you, I would think you were looking forward to seeing the detective,” Ayanna teased, just throwing it out there to see if it stuck.

“Oh, I’m definitely looking forward to seeing the detective,” she said with a light laugh.  “I’ll see you Monday, Yan.”

Ayanna smiled, looking forward to that entertainment.

When Janie arrived, they settled in with some chips and guacamole, and began planning their futures like giddy school girls.  They both agreed that Ayanna’s established food blog would be a good starting point for running some articles about
The Local Yokel
catering business, along with some of the food items they’d like to highlight.

“So, how the hell are you surviving without pizza and sex, woman?!”

Ayanna laughed.  “It ain’t easy, I’ll tell ya.  But I’m thinking that maybe given your new recipes for the artisan pizzas, and my 40 day fast, we’ll put the two things together.  I was gonna write a short blurb on the experience of giving up pizza and what it’s like when I eat it again.  You know, like seeing it with fresh eyes.  So maybe we can show off some of your little pizzas in that article?”

“Yeah, that’s sounds good.  I can make some other recipes that I’m thinking through, and we can take more pics.  I want you to be able to eat them so they can be described by someone who’s tasted them.  Maybe you can start with the ones you’ve already tried.  What about doing a new recipe every day for a week, or something like that? 
Telling the reader that they can come back to the blog every day for another recipe.”

“I like that.”

They looked at each other and smiled their excitement, then clapped because they were so happy.

After about an hour of hashing out details, they discovered that they not only had similar philosophies and training, but work ethic as well.  It was decided that Ayanna would indeed become the sous-chef
, and they discussed the possibility of her investing in the company so she could be a partner down the line if things worked out. 

They discussed marketing, scheduling, and signature dishes for each of t
hem to add to the catering menu. They then talked about the upcoming event they had for the following weekend.  Ayanna couldn’t wait to see the catering kitchen, also known as Janie’s loft in Tribeca.  She had a commercial sized kitchen, which according to Janie was the selling point for the place.  As soon as she’d seen it, she’d put an offer in immediately.

“It’s on Hudson Street.  I’ve owned it for a couple of years now.  I had some backers who helped out in the beginning when I set the business up, so there was a little bit of a cushion.  We’ve been making a profit ever since we opened, and I’m close to paying them all back.  Maybe you should come see it on Monday before we go to the precinct.”  

All in all, it was a productive meeting and by 4pm, they were into their second bag of chips, laughing it up like old friends. 

“So, what’s happening on the boy front with you, Janie girl?” Ayanna asked Janie.  “Any love interests or anything like that?” 

Janie smiled wistfully at Ayanna’s question.

“Uh,
oh.  I know what that look means.”

Janie chuckled.  “What does it mean?”

“It means there’s someone, but that someone doesn’t know that you’re thinking of them as a ‘someone.’”

“Ah, I see.  Well, you are a wise woman, Ayanna Sarin, which is why I offered you a job.”

Ayanna looked at her sweetly.  “What’s going on?” 

Ayanna really liked Janie.  She reminded her of Ryann.  She had that quality about her that made you want to protect her, even though you knew she was independent and strong as hell.  It was a fascinating mix.

“Other than the fact that I’ve loved him forever and he’ll never see me as a woman, everything’s fine,” Janie sighed in a dry tone and flopped back onto the sofa.

“Shit, how can he not see
you
as a woman?  Your tits are spectacular!”

Janie cringed and laughed.  “The bane of my existence.”

“How so?  Do they cause you problems?”

“Not a ton, but when I was younger they did.  I was much heavier then.  In fact, it’s only been a couple of years since I’ve lost the weight, and
—”

“Really?  How much have you lost?”  Ayanna leaned forward, interested to hear her story.

“About 50 pounds,” she said sheepishly.

“50?!  That’s awesome!  What an accomplishment...you should be so proud of yourself!  How did you do it?  When was this?”

“It’s been a couple of years or so.  I mainly changed my eating.  I’m mostly vegetarian now, and I try to exercise four or five times a week.  I was jogging for a bit, but my frickin’ boobs are so damn heavy, I felt like I was getting black eyes!” she guffawed.  “I do more low impact exercising now, like Pilates and Yoga.  Stuff like that.”

“Wow.  That’s great.  What was it that made you decide to lose it?”

She sighed.  “I’ve been heavy most of my life, and when I hit 25, I finally got to the point where I wanted to feel better about myself, you know?  Be healthy.  And since I was a chef and starting the catering business, I really wanted to focus on healthy foods which is kinda what spurred me into organic and locally grown.  It all seemed to go hand in hand.”

“You inspire me
.
S
eriously.”  She paused, then switched gears.  “So, who’s the fucking idiot who doesn’t see you as a woman?”

Janie giggled, then got serious.  “He’s…” She sighed.  “He’s someone who just doesn’t see me that way.  I’m more like a sister to him, and I don’t know if there will ever be a day that he’ll see me as something else.”  She was looking off into space, coming to grips with a reality that was obviously painful.

“Do you see him often?  I mean, does he live in the area so you have to bump into him?”

“Yeah, he’s around.”  She cleared her throat.  “He lives in Manhattan.”

Thinking of her own new journey, Ayanna said, “Well, maybe you need to start approaching him in a different way.  If you think he only sees you as a sister then you need to start approaching him as a
woman
.  If you know you’re going to see him, wear something sexy to get his attention.  You’ve got all of the right parts, trust me.  You have a kick ass body, Janie.  All curves.  You’ve worked hard for it.  Don’t hide it.  Let him see it.”

She leaned forward and looked Ayanna in the eye, then nodded slowly as she was processing what Ayanna had said.  “Yeah, I might be able to work on that.”  She licked her lips.  “Yeah,” she said again, this time with a twinkle in her eye.  Then, she abruptly changed subjects. 

“And what about you, Miss ‘No Sex for 40 Days.’  How’s the self-reflection going?”

Ayanna shared a little more about why she had made the decision to change, and the realizations she had begun to have.  “I’m excited about this time in my life.  Lots of great changes.  New job, new place, new ma
—” She stopped herself before she said
man.
  “Just new adventures.”

Janie raised an eyebrow.  “Why do I feel like you were going to say something else there at the end?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ayanna said innocently.

Janie laughed.  “Alright, we’ll play it your way for now, but I have to say I’m really stoked about your new job, too
.”

“Me, too.
”

After Janie left, Ayanna went to the grocery store to get the
food for Jonathan’s dinner that was happening the next night.  Once she got the food home and put everything away, she began prepping the kitchen to get it ready for her pork tenderloin with sautéed pears, and her potato and bacon salad with rosemary vinaigrette.

And of course, the Oreos.  She couldn’t forget those, she smiled.  She was excited about the new way she was going to be presenting them.

At a little before seven that night, with her kitchen set up to her liking, she settled in to catch up on her blog.  Because she tried to write an article at least three to five times a week, sometimes they were short and pithy, other times they were a bit longer.  Tonight was a night for short and pithy.  She was going to write about the joy...of Oreos.

An hour later, she heard her phone go off and with butterflies in her stomach, she got up to get
it, hoping the message was from the Oreo King.  Sure enough, it was.

JW: 
Hey.  What r u doing?

She smiled.

AS: 
Thinking about Oreos.

She settled against the pillow on her bed and waited for his response.  It came shortly after.

JW: 
Mmm.  I wouldn’t mind having some right now.  Any chance u have any?

She giggled and rolled her eyes.  Ignoring his question, she wrote back.

AS: 
I guess it’s a good thing there’s a store right down the block.

She could spare a few for him tonight, but she wanted to play a little.

JW: 
Ur a cruel woman, Ayanna.

AS: 
Spoilsport.  Do u need like 20, or would 2 suffice?

JW: 
2 would just about cover me.

She chuckled.

AS: 
Come on down, champ.

Less than a minute later, she heard the knock on her door.  He must’ve been standing in the hallway.  She could feel the blood flowing hot inside her, she was so excited to see him.  Trying to calm herself, she sauntered to the door in her cut-off jeans, fitted peach colored V-neck, and her hair down her back.  She turned the knob and pulled the door open...

...then sighed.  God, this man really did it for her.  There he stood in khaki shorts, a navy blue t-shirt, and slip on casual shoes.  But it was his eyes.  His eyes were so damned sexy.

She licked her lips and leaned against the door while she held it open.

“Hi,” she said her voice husky.

He swallowed then cleared his throat.  “Hi, yourself.”  He gave her an appreciative once over with his baby blues.  “I hear this is the place to come when a man is jonesin’ for some cookies.”  His eyes were glued to her lips.

She gave him a look.  “That’s what you heard, huh?”  Then she knocked herself in the head as if she’d just remembered something.  “Did you see my number on the bathroom stall over at
Luigi’s
?  I’ve been meaning to talk to him about that.”

He smiled and played along.  “Instead of saying ‘for a good time call’, it says, ‘for cookies that are a bit crunchy on the outside but sweet and creamy on the inside’.”

Her heart rate began to accelerate and it took her a second to shake herself out of his rumbling voice.  She gave him a pointed look, and said, “Am I the cookie in this scenario, JBG?”

“You know it, sweetheart.”

“My cookie is crunchy?” she asked with a raised eyebrow, knowing cookie was sometimes a euphemism for sex or a woman’s vajayjay.

He smiled.  “No,
you’re
crunchy.  You do have a potty mouth, after all,” he smirked.  “And you’re tough, but even in your crunchiness, you’re damn sweet, babe.  And I just
know
your cookie is sweet and creamy on the inside,” he murmured, licking his lips.

She groaned and backed up.  “Get inside before you give poor Mrs. Holland a heart attack.  She’s still trying to get over Ryann having screaming sex in here.  We don’t need to give her anything more to talk about.”

He stepped in.  “I don’t think I need to hear about Ryann and her screaming sex, thank you very much,” he said dryly.

She closed the door.  He reached out to stroke the abrasion on her neck, and gritted his teeth.

She covered his hand with hers.  “Down, boy.  Go sit.  I’ll go get your Oreos.” 

She walked into the kitchen and scooped a few on a plate.  Then she went into the fridge to get him some milk, and poured him a glass.