Recipe for Desire Page 3

  Alicia nodded. “You’re doing a great thing over there,” she said.

  “I think we can do more,” he said as he leaned against the wall. “What if we hosted a fund-raiser for the shelter? Times are tough and they’re having a hard time keeping the staff together and providing for the women.”

  “I bet. The economic news makes me count my blessings every night. We can do that, but I’d better run it by Jade and Serena just to make sure,” Alicia replied. “Maybe we can get Maurice and some of his football buddies involved.”

  “That would definitely ramp up the amount of donations,” Devon said as he nodded.

  “Let me ask you a question, though,” Alicia said as she ran her fingers through her hair. “Is this new and improved socially conscious Devon Harris doing all of this charity work because he can’t get a date?”

  “Getting a date isn’t the problem. Finding a woman in Charlotte who doesn’t have more issues than Ebony, Essence, and Jet is.”

  “Thankfully, I don’t fall into that category,” Alicia quipped. Devon raised his right eyebrow as he looked at his friend.

  “Alicia, lie to yourself, darling; don’t lie to me.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  Devon cocked his head to the side and laughed. “The scowl on your face says it all. Brother to sister, you are the kind of woman that makes a man feel as if he’s never going to measure up.”

  Alicia fanned her hands and sucked her teeth. “Whatever. You’re just mad because your perfect woman is married to someone else and about to have his baby.”

  “Let the Kandace thing go. I have, and God knows Solomon doesn’t need to think I’m hoping to rekindle the romance with his wife.”

  “I can’t help but tease you about that; it makes my day.”

  Devon wagged his finger at Alicia. “You need to get a life,” he said. “Let me go check what the staff is doing for lunch, and I have to make a dessert.”

  “What are you making for dessert?” Alicia asked with a gleam in her eye.

  “Nothing for you. Oh, you’re going to have to come by the shelter and try the pies the ladies and I are making.”

  “Sure,” Alicia said. “As long as you give me some of what you’re making for lunch.”

  Devon sighed and winked at Alicia. “Do I need to make enough for your non-cooking married friend?”

  “Are you talking about me?” Serena Billups asked from behind Devon. “Because I did come to get lunch for my husband and his crew.”

  “How do you all make a profit when none of you can cook and you’re always eating like this is your own personal kitchen?” Devon said when he turned around and hugged his friend.

  “Please,” Serena said when he let go. “You’ve been cooking for us for years.”

  “Yes, I’ve spoiled you all terribly,” Devon said. “Have you ever cooked for Antonio?”

  Serena shrugged. “I boiled hot dogs once,” she said.

  Devon shook his head. “And on that note, I’m going to the kitchen.” He turned and headed for the kitchen to get ready for the lunch rush.

  Chapter 3

  Marie stared listlessly as her father continued his lecture about responsibility once they made it to his office in south Charlotte. Was she twelve or an adult? Richard paced the floor as if he were trying to walk a hole in the carpet.

  “I’ve made some calls,” he said. “But with the publicity that you’ve garnered, we can’t keep this quiet. You’re going to be punished.”

  “With all of your contacts in Charlotte, this is the best you can do? This isn’t just about me, Dad. I just don’t want to get... .”

  Richard glared at his daughter. “Marie, what you did was dangerous and you do need to face that. Why didn’t you just allow someone else to drive? You’re lucky that no one was killed. Why do you think that I’m going to try and absolve you of the consequences of what you did?”

  “Isn’t that what you do for your clients every day? I’m your daughter. You can’t do the same thing for me?”

  “You sound like a spoiled brat, and I’ve already said I’m partly to blame for that, but you obviously didn’t hear me when I said that I wasn’t going to continue to feed into your delusions of entitlement,” Richard boomed. “I told you a long time ago, William Franklin wasn’t good enough for you. But you had to involve him in your life, and now, you’ve allowed your emotions to make you act like a damned fool. Am I supposed to just give you a hug and make it all go away?”

  Marie closed her eyes and sighed. Part of her wanted to tell her father that’s exactly what she wanted him to do. She wanted to tell him that if he would stop expecting the worst of her, maybe it wouldn’t keep happening. But Marie also knew those were excuses and that if she expected her father to help her, she was going to have to be honest.

  “Daddy,” she said, “I know what I did was potentially dangerous. It was stupid and it was a mistake. But I have my business to think about. I can’t go to jail. If you help me, I will turn over a new leaf, stay out of trouble, and nothing like this will ever happen again.”

  Richard shook his head. “I wish I could believe you. I wish I felt as if you weren’t trying to work me over to get what you want.”

  “I’m not doing that,” she said. “Daddy, do you know how hard it is being the daughter of the great Richard Charles III? So, yes, I’ve lashed out in the past. I’ve tried to carve my own niche in Charlotte.”

  “By acting like a silly party girl? Stripping and drinking too much? Yes, you’re separating yourself from the career and image I’ve built for myself, and you’re doing a damned good job of it,” he snapped caustically. “If you really want to change and want to turn over a new leaf, the first thing you have to do is take responsibility for your actions. Take a plea. I’ll work with the DA’s office to see what we can do. If you have to do jail time, then you will do it.”

  She groaned at the prospect of spending another hour in jail. “Do I really have to go to jail?”

  “Honestly, I’d love to see that. But realistically, this is your first offense and you probably won’t go to jail. Probation, most likely. But with me, you’re going to have to show and prove. No more stunts, no more publicity for all the wrong reasons.”

  “Fine.”

  “Don’t say fine, just do it.”

  “Is it too soon to ask you if I can borrow one of your cars since mine was totaled?”

  Richard sighed and shook his head. “The last thing you need to do is to be seen driving. I will have a car service take you wherever you need to go.”

  “And that’s going to look so much better, me riding around in a limo and getting out looking like a superstar. I know about image, Daddy, and rolling around town in a car service is a one-way ticket to jail. Unless that’s a part of you teaching me a lesson.”

  “Marie, I want you to change who you are and how you act, but I don’t want you to continue down this path of self-destruction. What’s going through your mind when you do these foolish things?”

  Marie sighed and rolled her eyes at him. “You’ve made your point and I’ve heard you, but the last thing we need is for some photographer to snap a picture of me getting out of a limo. Can you imagine what the papers will say and how that will change the way a judge will treat me. As you said, image is everything.”

  “Last night was when you should’ve called the car service or paraded around in a limo,” Richard said, then he handed Marie his car keys. “I will be coming for my car at five thirty; don’t make me have to track you down.”

  “Yes, Father,” she said, then grabbed her father’s keys and tore out of the office. Once she hit the fresh air, Marie almost felt civil again. All she needed was a spa treatment, a manicure, a pedicure, and something delicious to eat. As she hopped behind the wheel of her father’s car, Marie pulled out her cell phone and called Adriana.

  “Hello?”

  “Adriana, it’s me.”

  �
��Marie, oh, my goodness, you’re out of jail. Are you all right?” she asked. “I thought Hailey drove you last night. I know you didn’t put her life in danger along with yours ...”

  “I don’t need another lecture and I wasn’t driving. I need a shower, a good meal, and a hairdo. Last night was hell, and my father put me through some more hell just moments ago. But Hailey is all right. I wish you would’ve asked her if she had a driver’s license before handing her the keys to my car, which is totaled.”

  “Are you ready for more bad news?”

  “If I say no, can you make it disappear?” Marie groaned as she pulled up to the intersection.

  “We’ve been banned from Mez.”

  Marie muttered curse words under her breath as she listened to Adriana tell her that the management ended the party and told Adriana that they would no longer host events by M&A.

  “We also lost the location for two of our upcoming events and one of our CIAA parties. Marie, you messed up royally, and it’s costing me money.”

  “Listen,” Marie said. “We can make things right. Shit happens, all we have to do is wait for the next news director to get caught stealing from Harris Teeter, or another city council member to get accused of sexual harassment.”

  “And how am I supposed to pay my bills? Marie, I love you. But I don’t have a rich daddy willing to stick his neck out for me.”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  “You need to take a step back. Stop being in everybody’s face all the time.”

  Marie groaned as she pulled up to the Aveda Institute on South Boulevard. “You know what, if that’s how you feel, then fine. I have to go.” Marie tossed her phone in the backseat and pounded her hands against the steering wheel. Did Adriana think she could run M&A on her own? Whatever!

  Marie was the one with the contacts, who knew the right people, and who grabbed headlines. Well, most of the time that was a good thing, but did Adriana think she was going to be the new “it” girl?

  She slammed her car door and stormed inside the salon. “Oh, my goodness,” her stylist, Rodricko, exclaimed. “Look who they let out of the slammer. Girl, get in my seat right now. Did you smile in your mug shot like all the little starlets do?”

  Marie marched over to his seat, every eye in the place following her, but no one said a word. “You know I had to ban Greta from my place because I thought that garden tool was lying about your arrest. Imagine my surprise when I found out it was true. What happened, girl? Did Willie the Leech really leave you for Greta?”

  “They walked into my event together as if they hadn’t signed divorce papers a year ago.”

  “But, honey,” Rodricko said as he gently combed Marie’s tangled roots. “Are you hurt? You didn’t really love him, did you?”

  “No, but I’m not going to let him get away with playing me. Does he know who I am?”

  “A damned fool,” he snorted.

  “Excuse me?” Marie said. “Did you just call me a ‘damned fool’?”

  “Yes, I did,” Rodricko said as he led her over to the shampoo bowl. “From the moment you announced you were engaged to Willie the Leech, I knew it was a mistake. You’re free now and you should celebrate that with a new haircut, color, and dance a jig. And if you have to celebrate with some spirits, you got enough in the bank to call a whole car service.”

  “But he embarrassed me and I’m not going to take that lying down.”

  “So, taking bullshit standing up is supposed to do what? Marie, you’re being stupid. The next thing I know, you’re going to be telling me that you want that Rihanna redness in your hair or some Lady Gaga-esque hairstyle.”

  Marie leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. “Well, I thought that red would look good on me.”

  Rodricko threw his hands up. “Lawd, child, you need more than a hairdo!”

  “But, no, no,” Marie started, “removing William from the equation, Adriana is tripping, too. We lost Mez, and she thinks that I should take a step back.”

  Rodricko sighed as he massaged a deep conditioning serum into Marie’s hair and scalp. “Well, if you were the client, what would you tell yourself?”

  Marie wiggled her nose and exhaled. “Maybe I would suggest lying low for a little ...”

  “Marie, I hope you know this isn’t going to be as easy to get out of as when you and your girls got naked in the Square for PETA or whatever fake cause y’all had gotten involved in. Daddy might not be able to fix this.”

  Marie crossed her ankles and smiled. “One thing about having a name in this burg is that it never lets you down.”

  As Rodricko slapped a plastic conditioning cap on her head, he had a feeling that things were going to get a lot worse for Marie before they got any better.

  So, the pie wasn’t restaurant quality, but it was damned good, Devon thought as he sampled another one of the pies from the women at My Sister’s Keeper. These women had talent, and all he had to do was teach them not to be afraid of spices.

  “How did we do?” Shay asked Devon, looking hopefully at him for a critique on the pies.

  “The pies were good, but we can make them better. We have to get our spices down,” he said. “That’s going to come with timing and more practice. I wanted to talk to you ladies this afternoon because the restaurant where I work, we’ve decided to host a fund-raiser for this place. I wanted to know how many of you wanted to help me with this. We can find out where you’re strongest and ...”

  “Hold up,” Shay said. “You’re talking about that restaurant where all the crazy stuff keeps happening?”

  Loriene nodded. “First it was Solomon Crawford’s stalker–business partner, then the movie producer tried to choke one of the women, and ...”

  Devon waved his hands. “That’s neither here nor there. This is going to be a chance for you all to learn some life skills, and those psychos you named won’t be on the guest list,” he said. “But, here’s a chance to get your face out there to some employers and possibly make some connections with people who can help you prepare for the future.”

  “We don’t want to be looked at as if we’re a charity case, either,” Shay said.

  “I don’t want to be a part of this,” Bria said as she rose from the table where she and the other women from Devon’s class were sitting. “I know we’re in a bad situation here, but it’s not as if we haven’t tried to help ourselves.”

  Devon threw his hands up. “And I understand that, but this place here is special, and so are every last one of you. All I want to do is let other people in the city know what I already know.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Shay said. “But why don’t you and your rich friends just write a check if you want to clear your conscience so badly.”

  “It’s not about that,” Devon said. “When I said I was going to work with you ladies and this program, I meant more than write a check. What I’ve learned from you ladies is that anyone could end up in a situation like this. I’m glad to be a part of this team, and when the right people find out what’s going on here, they are going to want to help as well. We all have to pay it forward.”

  Shay propped up on her elbows and looked up at Devon. “You know, if my ex-husband was anything like you, I might not be in a place like this.”

  Devon smiled at Shay. “If my ex could fix a computer the way you can, then there is no way I would’ve allowed her to marry a multimillionaire,” he quipped as he tapped his laptop lid. “But, ladies, we can raise a lot of money, show a lot of people how much heart Charlotte has. Who knows what this could mean for the other women around the city who may need the services of My Sister’s Keeper.”

  Shay looked at her fellow culinary arts students. “We should do it. Devon hasn’t led us wrong before.”

  A ripple of mumbling went through the crowd while Devon focused on Bria, who looked as if she wanted to bolt right out the door and never return.

  “All right,” Shay said, “I’ll help. I did work in public relations bef
ore; maybe I can help the people who will be promoting the event.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Devon said. “I want you ladies to feel like this is your event; I want you involved in every aspect of it.”

  Shay and everyone else, but Bria, nodded and seemed to be getting excited about it. “We’ll talk more about this next week,” Devon said as the women began to file out of the room.

  “Bria,” Devon said as she approached the door and the others were out of earshot. “Can we talk for a second?”

  “I really have to go,” she said nervously. Devon placed his hand on her shoulder and forced her to face him. He’d seen that look before, only it was in his mother’s face when he’d seen it last. Bria was running from something just as his mother had spent years avoiding the spotlight and questions when Devon Sr. had gotten out of hand with his anger and slapped her. He’d tried not to leave a mark, because the wife of the Atlanta Hawks’ star center couldn’t be seen around town with the marks of an abused woman.

  When Devon Sr. would get a lick in too good on his mother, Devon and his mom would head out of town for about a month, pretending they were on a big adventure until he had grown up enough to know what was going on. By the time Amelia Harris had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer and Devon Sr. had decided to play the doting husband as she died, Devon had decided he hated his father enough to turn his back on everything his father had designed for him—the basketball career, the education at Georgia Tech, and becoming the crown prince of the hardwood. Instead, he’d taken up his mother’s dream and discovered that being a chef made him happy. What he hated about himself was that in the process of finding himself, he’d hurt Kandace when he’d cheated on her with a throwaway groupie who his father had sent to “greet” him before he headed off to Paris. That had been the dagger in his relationship with Kandace.

  Devon couldn’t recall her name, but he’d never forget walking upstairs and finding a cocoa beauty lying in his bed with nothing but a white teddy on. His father and Kandace had gotten into another argument at the party and he’d grown tired of playing referee that night. Especially when Kandace had known that him becoming a chef would be the biggest tribute he could pay to his mother. He’d felt as if she’d allowed Devon Sr. to ruin his party, where he’d done all of the catering himself to show his father and his friends that he had culinary skills. Devon had overindulged on the scotch and champagne, and all he’d wanted to do had been to go to sleep. Until she’d licked her lips and stroked her double Ds. He’d needed a release, and Miss No-Name seemed willing to do whatever he’d wanted.