The Cost To Play (Slivers of Love) (7 page)

She could not help it. She burst into laughter.  Toshi was laughing as well. A deep belly gut type of laughter, but he paused, becoming serious again before passing
her a bowl of rice. “Tonight, I wish nothing more than the pleasure of your company.” To his shock, it was the truth. “However, to answer your question, no.  I no longer want to have sex with you.” Her face lost its expression. “I would at some point, relish the moment when I can make love to you.” The idea of getting her into bed tonight had not crossed his mind.

She was grinning, “That was pretty smooth too.  I like that one even more.”

Toshi watched her relax and changed the subject by telling her, “so in Japanese culture, before a meal you say,
itadakimasu,
meaning I gratefully receive, before you commence eating.” Jayne repeated after him asking what is said once the meal was complete.  “After dinner, to say thank you for the meal, you will say
gochisosama.”
She repeated after him again.
  “
I would then respond
, deshita.”

She tasted the food. “This is amazing, Toshi.”

He found himself beaming with pride as she raved over every vegetable cut, the rice, and especially the salmon.  There were so many more things he was looking forward to teaching Jayne Wright and in his immediate thoughts, none were related to having her in his bed.  It was a weird feeling, but one, Toshi felt that he liked.  If it cost a bit more time to earn her trust, then he would gladly pay it, with interest.

            
 
Jayne woke up feeling a new energy. Dinner with Toshi had been a pleasant surprise and she had truly enjoyed the evening. After she helped wash the dishes, he made them cups of tea as they discussed some of the drawings in his office on the board. The conversation turned toward different mediums for achieving certain artistic effects with charcoals, colored pencils, and acrylics.  As much as she hated to admit, he was correct. It was wonderful talking to someone who understood what you were talking about. What she was reluctant to admit even more, was her attraction to him.

At 11:45 he walked her downstairs to her car.  The fob was used to open the door. She leaned against her vehicle to tell him she had a good time. He leaned down to open the door and she mistook it for him leaning in for a kiss.  It was too late to take it back. Their lips connected, but he did not pull away. Instead, he placed his hands on either side of her on the roof of the car, and deepened the kiss.  Jayne’s mouth opened as his tongue darted inside to mate with hers. Her hands slipped inside his jacket, as she allowed her nails to graze his back when she grabbed handfuls of his cotton shirt.  It had been so long since she felt the weight of a man. She pulled him forward, taking all of his weight onto her body as he pressed her against the car.  A slight moan escaped her throat and she felt his growing desire pressed against her belly.  His kiss deepened still, until she felt him pulling away.  The cool air between them served as a wake up. Under the soft glow of the street light, Toshi saw the raw passion in her eyes and his blood begin to boil.

A feeble attempt to say her name was halted as his voice came out all raspy. He tried again. “Jayne get in the car.”

Her fingers touched his chest and trailed down his stomach, feeling the muscles of his abdomen under the shirt.  Before her hand could go any lower, he grabbed it, pressing it to her side, placing a softer kiss on her lips. “Get in the car Jayne.”  Toshi physically pushed her into the seat and closed the car door. “Text me when you get home.” He remained only long enough to hear her start the engine and put the car into gear.

The next morning, her mind was full of the thoughts of
what if
he had taken her by the hand back into his place. She would have made a fool of herself. “Crap, I forgot to text him last night.”  Already dressed for church, she looked for her purse.  She had forgotten that as well.  It must still be at his place.

Toshi woke up slowly faced with the harsh reality that what he was holding was not Jayne, but a pillow.  He kicked himself several times last night for not taking
advantage of the circumstance and drug her back into his place to make love to her all night. She had been willing to give him her body, but he wanted something else. The word to define what he wanted could not be formulated, but it was hanging about his frontal lobe.  A loud groan rumbled from his groin, up through his gut, to his stomach, and out of his mouth.

A light tapping was heard at the front door. He jumped up quickly thinking maybe Jayne had come back and was ready to make love this morning. Heaven knows he was.  He opened the door to find Kunio, his sister standing there. He groaned again as she entered the apartment.

“Merry Happy Ho-Ho to you too big brother.” She kicked off her shoes and sat the bags down she had brought over. “I brought you breakfast and came to make sure you are not late for church, again.”

Toshi peered in the bag, frowning at her selection. He did not like deep fried food, nor was he particularly fond of biscuits. “Toshi, hit the shower. I will make some tea while you get dressed.” She pushed at his shoulders trying to get him moving. “You could at least say good morning to me.”

He kissed her on the forehead, groaned again, and headed toward the shower.  Kunio called after him, “and brush those teeth while you are at it. Smells like you had some bad fish for dinner.”

She heard the shower start and set about making tea, but was interrupted by a light tap at the door.  Uncertain if her brother was expecting anyone, she answered the knocking to find a black woman standing there. Ai had not been lying and Toshi hadn’t said it to piss off their parents. Her brother could actually be dating this woman.

“I’m sorry. Is Toshi home?” Jayne asked as she eyed the beautiful Japanese woman.

“Yes, please come in.” Kunio stepped aside to allow Jayne entry into the apartment.

Jayne wasn’t sure who the woman was and decided to err on the side of caution. “I left my bag here yesterday and just came to get it.”

The beautiful woman used her right hand as an answer to go ahead and get what she needed.  Jayne removed her shoes before stepping onto the carpet. Kunio knew then, she had been here before.

“I am Kunio,” she said as she watched Jayne’s expressions.

“I am Jayne. A friend of Toshi’s.” She rounded the corner and found her purse on the couch. “Here it is. I will be on my way.” She thanked the lady and at the same time heard the shower stop.  Toshi called out, “Kunio, are you making us some tea?”

“I am and you have a guest out here,” she yelled back, eyes still fixed on Jayne. Kunio wanted to see the interaction between her brother and this woman. 

Toshi nearly ran from the bedroom, his dress slacks halfway wedged into his underwear, chest still wet as he pulled a wife beater over his head. Jayne lowered her gaze as he straightened his clothing, attempting to sound casual. “I left my bag yesterday with my cell phone in it. Hence, no text message.” She said each section of words slowly hoping it would explain why she had not texted him last night.

A bevy of emotions flooded through his mind thinking if his sister wasn’t here, they could they pick up where they left off last night. Before he could speak, Kunio broke the staring match between them. “Good grief Toshi! If we are late for church, mom and dad are going to be furious.”

“Jayne. Do you have a little sister?” he asked as he dashed back into the room to retrieve his shirt and tie. “If not, would you like one?”

He buttoned his shirt and Jayne, without thinking, stepped forward and began to fix his tie in a Windsor knot. She said in a low voice, “do you have plans for New Year’s Eve?”

Toshi, adjusted his shirt into his pants. “No. What do you have in mind?”

“I was thinking, if you came over, I could return the favor and make dinner for you.”

A faint smile crept into the corners of his mouth. “I would like that.
I would like that a lot, Jayne.”

“Great six o’clock. Bring the champagne,” she said as she adjusted the narrow end of the fabric.

Kunio strained to hear what was being said, until Jayne suddenly turned, startling her. “A pleasure to meet you Kunio.”

Toshi needed to make sure last night wasn’t a fluke. He called her name as she reached the door. When Jayne turned, he grabbed a fistful of the front of her coat pulling her to him. He awaited her smile before lowering his head to give her a light kiss. “Thank you.”

“
Dou itashimashite
, Toshi
.”

After Jayne left, Toshi sat at the counter attempting to choke down the greasy biscuit with overly salted ham. Kunio wasn’t sure if he was hating it or loving it, because he was doing it all with a weird smile on his face.  He had kissed the woman and was now smiling.

“Why are you staring at me Kunio?”

“You are smiling,” she said as she poured him more tea.

“Yeah. What’s the big deal?”

She poured herself another cup. “I just don’t remember the last time I saw you smile, that’s all.”

Christmas was always a sad time around Jayne’s house
. It was her least favorite holiday, followed closely by Valentine’s Day. A celebration that was a waste of marketing revenue.  What she did love about the Christmas season was the great sales which took place afterwards. Being employed in the advertising industry, she fully understood that companies had to sell any excess Christmas items before a certain time to avoid paying the extra taxes. Once she hipped her friends to this knowledge, it became their thing after the holiday to spend a day shopping.

Brionna, Tamika, and RaShunda had been her closest friends since high school. Between the four of them, it was often joked that they could have their own reality show since each of them represented the quintessential definition of the stereotypical black woman. What saddened them all, as the punch line of the joke, was that none had a successful relationship.

Jayne had a steady boyfriend for about a year, but he attempted several times to control everything she did, wore, and even dreamed.  Grandma Pearl told her that most black women often settled for a piece of man, because they were unwilling to wait for the right man. “Sugar Pie,” Grammy told her. “If you are a good woman, you need a good man.  Wait for God to send you the right one, instead of going with
just
anyone.”  She followed her advice and let George, her second real boyfriend, go his own way.  Of course, her girlfriends didn’t understand how she could let that fine ass brother go, but they didn’t see the real George.  They saw the George who drove the Mercedes and wore designer clothes with fancy wrist watches. George also never appealed to her sexually, which is why Alex was the only man she that had been intimately involved.  No one ever saw the controlling George who talked to her like she was stupid or the George who made fun of her desire to be a graphic novelist. Brionna often teased her, saying that she had become that sister who didn’t trust men and would rather read about love than try to live it. 

For Jayne that was the pot, sitting on the roof, yelling at the kettle, “Hey Homie. Did you know you were black?”  Brionna was the type of sister who was in love with the idealism of the concept of love. Every other year she would have a new man. Pitiful men who required a great deal of fixing up to even be presentable among good honest folk.   Brionna’s latest was Tyrone Jenkins. A man she bragged that worked for the city and was on his way up.  Jayne remained quiet when she found out the stinking truth about Tyrone’s good paying job.  A smile, a hug, and agreement with Brionna was in order, because Tyrone worked hanging off the back of a garbage truck. Which in all honesty, left him nowhere to go, but up.  Jayne never uttered a word to her friend that she knew what Tyrone did for living.  Truth in context, was harsher than truth in reality.  There wasn’t a darn thing wrong with the brother earning an honest living, especially considering the alternative of what he could be doing.  With his job, he did as a man should do and helped to take care of his woman.

Tamika, on the other hand, always looked for the man who would take care of her completely.  Jayne categorized her friend as the type of sister whose weave was always right, nails were done, and wore the latest and hippest clothing.  Any man who came within nose shot of her could smell the money dripping from her haute couture. If he desired a sniff, he had to come with at least a platinum line of credit or he could stay where he was.  The drawback to her lifestyle was that the men that were in the position to take care of her, often belonged to another woman.  The woman who helped put him through graduate school.  The woman that ate ramen noodles two nights a week so that he would have a nice suit for job interviews, to get that first great job.  The woman who bore his children and sat up with them at night doing homework while her husband was out doing Tamika. Yes, she was the type of woman who did not care, as long as she felt she was in control.

Control was an odd thing. Jayne often found that whenever a person felt they had it all together and everything was under control
which was the moment in life where everything was just the opposite. RaShunda lived the example.

A college graduate with a specialization in marketing and promotions, RaShunda obtained a cushy job with a local Fortune 500 company and was on the move.  Jayne labeled her friend as the angry black woman. In sincerity, she did it to herself.  Grandma Pearl’s rule of thumb was, you never poop where you eat.  RaShunda made the mistake of dating a coworker.  Not only did she date a coworker, but it was a man who worked in her department and was her equal.  Being the loudmouth braggart that she is, RaShunda had to share ever
ything that came into her head; her time of month, the sandwich she ate giving her gas, and her latest really cute marketing idea. It was no real surprise to anyone when Calvin took her ad campaign, dressed it up, and presented it as his own. The campaign made the company millions. Calvin was promoted and sent to head up a division at the corporate headquarters in Switzerland. RaShunda became resentful. Scratch that, she became vindictive. During the first round of cutbacks and layoffs on her job, she was the first to be let go.

It took three years of therapy, personal coaching, and another shot at the big leagues before she settled down and became tolerable again. Jayne wondered if the last set back was ever going to make her friend right in the head again. Her latest setback was marriage.  A marriage to the wrong man. RaShunda married a man who seemed to dote on her and give her everything she needed; love and support, but not a lot of understanding.  Ronnie’s lack of understanding of what she did for a living manifested itself in his funky attitude when RaShunda took a client to dinner.  It was even worse when
his wife
had to work late or received a gift from a client. Ronnie took it over the top when RaShunda earned a sizeable bonus that enabled her to put a hefty down payment on a new car that she desperately needed.

Jayne sat across the table from her three gal pals and refused to buy into any of the drama.  RaShunda started the conversation, complaining as usual about her husband. The anger simmering underneath her mantle. “Would you believe that fool wanted me to take back my car? He don’t know who he is dealing with if he expects that…..”

Tamika ignored her. Too busy pushing lettuce leaves about her plate, while eyeing the new two carat diamond on her finger. Jayne wanted to ask whose husband had given her that, but the conversation was turned instead by Brionna who flashed the new quarter carat diamond ring she was sporting on her left hand.

“Girl, marriage ain’t nothing but a trap. You should be smart and give it back and enjoy your freedom like Jayne over here,” RaShunda blurted out, smashing Brionna’s joy.  Tamika, being trifling as usual, compared her new sizable ring to the baby carat that Brionna was attempting to flash.  Jayne was the stabilizer of the group.

“How wonderful for you and Tyrone, Bri. Congrats.” Everyone relaxed a bit. “Let’s order a round a margaritas to toast the upcoming nuptials.” The waiter took the order and returned shortly with four glasses.

Jayne’s joy didn’t go unnoticed by RaShunda’s harsh eyes. “Who is he Jayne?”

“I’m sorry. Who is who?”

“Don’t play coy Honey. Who is this man you are seeing?”

This caught the attention of Tamika and Brionna who both focused in on Jayne. “I thought I noticed something different about her as well,” Brionna added.

“Did you finally find someone to dust the cobwebs off that sealed up pocketbook, girl?”  Tamika burst into laughter at her own question as she dug at Jayne’s celibacy.

“No one is sticking their fingers in my pocketbook,” Jayne said with ease. The margaritas arrived and she began to pour. “Besides, I would rather have dust on it than more fingerprints than the bathroom door at Walmart!”

Balance had been restored as the ladies laughed at the dig, but RaShunda knew that Jayne had avoided the question.  For Jayne, there was no real answer. She and Toshi had only shared two kisses and two meals.  There was some chemistry between them, but too many differences which could not easily be overlooked.  Her focus centered on her and Toshi getting through New Year’s Eve tomorrow night with her panties on and intact. The rest, she would
deal with later.