The Masseuse (11 page)

She walked to where he’d parked and waited for him to open the passenger door. Once he did, she stepped up and into the truck, tucking her coat around her body properly and waiting for his attempt at an apology.

“Jez—”

“I said it’s fine, Ramsey.” She turned to find him staring at her with a peculiar expression. She smiled reassuringly. “Please take me home.”

“Don’t do that, baby. Not with me.”

She feigned stupidity, even as she wanted to tell him to stop calling her baby. “Don’t do what?”

“Don’t shut me out because I said something you didn’t want to hear.”

“I’m not shutting—”

“I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Good, because we are not fighting.”

He groaned and shook his head. Having had enough of the conversation, enough of him for a night, she turned to look out the window at the other parked cars.

“Look at me.”

“I’d like to go home, Ramsey.”

“Jezebel, look at me...please.”

She slowly turned back to him. He’d leaned across and his face was now closer to hers. “My apartment isn’t like your house.” When she only blinked at him, he continued, “It’s not warm, or inviting, it’s very...cold.”

“So?”

What did that have to do with anything? She wanted to see where he lived, just to learn some more about him, and he was worried about the décor? That made no sense.

“Baby, your place is just better.”

“And your family?”

“What?” He looked confused, and she guessed she couldn’t blame him.

“Would you introduce me to your family?”

He seemed taken aback but then he looked away and sighed. “Jez—”

“You don’t have to answer. The answer’s on your face.” She looked back out the window.

Ramsey didn’t speak for long moments, before he said in a firm and clear voice, “I am not and have never been embarrassed by you.”

“Are you married?”

He seemed taken aback by the question, and shook his head. “No.”

Jezebel didn’t think he was. During the time they’d spent together, Ramsey had never come across as hiding anything, and they both worked around each other’s schedules, instead of her catering to his every availability. And they went out in public, during the days, and she’d been to his job…

“Is it because I’m black? You’re embarrassed by my race?” She’d read up about interracial relationships between blacks and Asians and had learned that in addition to the culture difference, there were perpetuated stereotypes in Asian cultures about black people. Bad stereotypes. Gangsters and hoochie Mama stereotypes. While Ramsey seemed to have none of them, it was possible his family did...and he didn’t want to disappoint them.

“That didn’t bother me when I first saw you and it doesn’t bother me now.”

“I don’t believe you.” She sighed and turned back to him. “Ramsey, look, it’s fine. We’ll still do...
this.
” Jezebel doubted it. Her emotions had gotten involved. The best thing she could do now was have a clean, healthy break. “We just both know what this relationship is and is not.”

He blinked rapidly, and then his eyes narrowed. “And what is it?”

“We’re having a good time together. You like being around me, and I like being around you. But that’s it.”

“Oh?” He lifted a brow.

“Yes.”

“And what are we not doing?”

She shrugged. “Everything else.”

He didn’t speak again, and she turned away. Jezebel was glad when the engine started. They didn’t speak as he drove from the parking lot, and Jezebel couldn’t focus on anything but her stupidity. How had she let herself get so involved without learning the ground rules? They were always needed. First, Ramsey had been a one-night stand, then a screw-buddy, and then...her man. It had complicated things because she’d just allowed one thing to transition into the other, as if the three titles weren’t completely different.

Jezebel was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t realize Ramsey had gone off the road until there in...an underground garage?

“Where are we?” she instantly demanded.

Ramsey didn’t answer, though she could tell from the way his jaw clenched that he’d heard her.

“Ramsey!” she snapped. “What is this place?”

“My home. You wanted to see it, right?”

She scoffed. “I’ll pass, thank you! So you can just reverse right back the way you came in or put me out so I can call a cab!” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so offended. Did he really think she cared about his place now? After he’d made it clear he was being pressured into bringing her here?

He ignored her, swerving the car down to another level, and finally, to an empty spot, where he parked. Jezebel pushed the door open, and jumped down. She looked around for the EXIT sign and when she found it, began walking in that direction. She’d barely taken a step in her heels when he caught her arm.

She yanked it away angrily and whirled to face him. “Don’t touch me!”

Ramsey took a step back and sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Jezebel laughed bitterly. “Of course you didn’t. Goodbye.”

“Jez...I—”

“You what?” she snapped. “I’m good enough to fuck, but not good enough to see your apartment without me pressuring you into it?” She spun away, angry at the tears burning her eyes. She needed to get out of here, find a cab, and go home. Her emotions were too shot, too raw.

She was moving forward again, when he stepped in front of her and sighed. “Jez...” he began wearily. “You’re too good for me.”

Oh, Ramsey Stone just got better and better with the excuses, didn’t he? She pushed past him. Despite the thin heels, she walked briskly, and the exit was just feet away, when she was pulled back against his body. One arm wrapped around her middle, keeping her back pressed snuggly against his front.

“Ramsey!” She struggled against him, but he only tightened his grip. “Let me go!”

“Not until you listen to me!” he bit out, before gentling his voice. “Just listen to me, Jezebel.”

She struggled against him, but his grip was firm. “Get off of me!”

“I didn’t lie to you. I’m not ashamed of any part of you—especially not your race. And the reason I didn’t bring you to my apartment before is because...I like your place better.” She shook her head. “If you didn’t figure this out in the past months, I really like you.” His lips pressed to her ear, as if his mouth needed to be that close for her to understand his words. “I told you you’re mine, and I meant it, Jez. I’m not in this short-term. I never was.” With that, he released her.

Eyeing the EXIT sign, Jezebel wanted badly to walk to it, and forget she’d ever known Ramsey Stone, but she turned to face him. “I don’t believe you.”

His hand cupped her cheek. “Give me a chance to prove it to you, Jez. I like everything about you. I even like your stubbornness, though I’m not liking it very much right now.” Moving closer, he lowered his head and placed his forehead against her own. “I’m sorry for making you think I was ashamed of you, but I promise you, Jezebel, I’m not.” When she only lifted a brow, he continued, “I’ve been at your side numerous times in public. Did I look embarrassed then?”

“It’s different with family.”

He groaned. “Let me prove it to you.”

“Sex isn’t going to help this, Ramsey!” Yes, they had great sex, but sex wasn’t going to cure the ache in her chest.

“Not just sex...let me prove how much I want you, Jezebel.”

Licking her lips, she looked back to the EXIT sign. Her brain said something was off, that Ramsey Stone was lying through his pretty teeth, that he was hiding their relationship, but her heart—stupid, illogical, thing that it was—was badgering her to give him a chance.

“How? How are you going to prove it?”

“Give me a week.”

Why did he need a week? What did it matter? She needed away from him, and soon. “I’m busy—”

“I’m not asking for anything more than we’ve already done.”

He looked sincere, but she knew he was lying. Her gut told her he was lying. Something was off, but her heart… When she answered, her emotions spoke. “You have the weekend.”

Ramsey nodded once.

She sighed. Instantly, he folded her into his arms, pressing his lips against the side of her head. “I’m sorry for hurting your feelings, baby. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Jezebel rested against his strong chest. Tonight had been trying. She could use a nice bath, and 8 hours of sleep. If Ramsey gave her that, it would be a start...

Chapter 8

She didn’t know what she expected to find in his apartment, but it wasn’t this.

Ramsey Stone’s apartment was beautiful. It spanned the two upper floors of the building and was not only spacious, but had a gorgeous décor. From the moment she stepped from the elevator, and entered the glazed glass, cherry-wood framed, double doors, she’d been reminded of a lesser version of the Red Room.

The living room was massive, with red brick and cream sheetrock walls. A large fireplace sat in the center of the room. Plush cream and red couches, chairs, and an oval-shaped glass coffee table with the most beautiful golden stand, added to the air of relaxation, of “home.” On the wall were oil paintings. They were mostly decorative art, pictures of waterfalls, of mountains, nature, but one picture struck her instantly, and that was the ornate, gold-framed one that hung over the fireplace.

It was a family picture, obviously, and a younger Ramsey—he must have been a teenager because he looked fresh-faced and mischievous and seemed much shorter—was dressed in a dark suit, minus tie, and stood on side of a stone faced grey-haired man. On the other side, was another boy, who bore such a striking resemblance to Ramsey that she couldn’t help but ask, “Your brother?”

“Yes.”

Jezebel shook her head. She hadn’t even known he had a brother, though she knew he had a sibling because of Lily.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked suddenly.

Her throat was dry. “Water, please.”

She followed him into a stainless steel kitchen that could easily house a cooking club. As they switched rooms, the décor changed slightly. Although there was still that maroon brick on some small patches in the kitchen, the walls were more cream than anything else, the counters a deep, cherry wood. In addition to the large stove, overhead ovens, and industrial refrigerator, there was a rectangular bar and bar seats. Marble graced the tops of counters and the bar in the center.

Jezebel didn’t speak as he grabbed a glass from an overhead counter and walked to the fridge to fill it.

She remembered him saying he preferred her apartment, and shook her head. He had to have been lying. Had she come to his apartment and found a sparsely furnished home, or even a “cold” home, as he’d said, she might have understood. But from the glimpse she currently had, the apartment was warmth personified. It was obvious that he’d carefully decorated too. If the common areas were this beautiful, she could only imagine his personal space.

He handed her the glass of water with ice-cubes floating in it, and she took a long draw, before placing it on the counter. “If you’re ashamed of me, this won’t work.”

Ramsey shook his head. “I’m not ashamed of you.”

“Your apartment is beautiful. It’s not cold, or strange, or weird, it’s just beautiful, so I don’t understand why you’d ‘prefer’ mine unless you’re hiding something, and the only something I can think of right now, is
me
.”

He sighed and then he rolled his head on his shoulders in a telltale sign of stress. “You said I had a weekend.”

“I’m reconsidering.” His fingers were suddenly against her cheek.

“Jezebel...I asked for a week, you gave me a weekend.” He brushed his lips against hers. “Don’t do this.”

“What are you hiding, Ramsey?” She pulled away. “You’re scaring me! This...” She indicated him, standing there looking unsure, “...isn’t you. You don’t hide things from me. We don’t hide things from each other.” She swallowed angrily. “Is it your family? Just be honest with me. I can take it! I’m a big girl. Is that it? Your family wouldn’t approve of me?”

He’d begun shaking his head, before he stopped, sighed, and nodded once.

“You never invited me over because of that?” Jezebel didn’t know how she still managed to speak, considering there was a massive lump in her throat threatening to choke her to death.

“That was a part of the reason.”

She scoffed. She’d be able to forgive him for not inviting her to see his family for that reason; she could accept that he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. But Ramsey Stone was a grown man. He was thirty-five, with his own business, his own apartment. He could have invited her over without family knowing, but he hadn’t. She briefly remembered him promising to cook for her when he first asked her out and she ignored him.

Needing clarification, she asked, “When you said you’d cook for me...at the seminar I gave for the SBA...were you going to bring me here?”

Ramsey stared at her for long moments before he shook his head once.

“Where?”

“A friend owns a small restaurant. I would have—”

Having heard enough, Jezebel turned and headed for the door. She wasn’t giving him a weekend. She was giving him nothing. Ramsey Stone was ashamed of her. His family wouldn’t like her—either because she wasn’t Korean, or Asian, or maybe because she was an African American female—but he’d played into whatever they thought about her by treating her like his dirty secret.

“Jezebel!”

She increased her pace, reaching into her purse for her cellular phone.

“What’s the address for this place?” she yelled over her shoulder.

She was getting to the glazed glass door when he caught her, lifted her off her feet and began walking in the opposite direction.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she screeched.

“You promised me a weekend.”

“I changed my mind.”

He ignored her.

“Put me down, Ramsey!”

He didn’t.

And when he began ascending steps, she decided her life was more precious than fighting him, and locked her arms around his neck to keep from falling and breaking her neck. As soon as they were on level ground, she fought him again. He ignored her, and kept walking.