Bittersweet Chocolate (24 page)

“Megan, I’m meeting Vi at Cask N’ Cleaver for lunch. Back in...” She looked at her watch. “Say two hours, promise.”

“Sure. Lunch with Vi, and you think you’ll be back in two hours.” Megan laughed and made a note on her calendar. “You’ll be lucky if Vi arrives in two hours.”

“I know, but hey, I’ll give it my best shot. Later.”

Marissa made good time to the restaurant, only ten minutes late. She sat at her usual table in an alcove at the rear and ordered a white wine. It could be quite a wait. Vi would never change, yet late or not, Marissa would remain forever grateful for her friendship. Meeting Vi had been the diversion she’d needed to get over the pain, bitterness, and sorrow from her past.

She sipped her wine and stared out the window, entranced. She loved the serene picturesque view of the town with the snow-capped San Bernardino Mountains in the distance, and the freeway snaking its way through the city. Cars as busy as worker ants wended their way in two directions. The partitioning glass filtered out the noise.

Stare riveted on the landscape outside, she relaxed and settled in to wait for Vi.

“Marissa!”

Nudged back to reality, she turned from the window and smiled at her friend.

“Woman, what were you thinking about?” Vi frowned. “I’ve been standing here for two minutes, trying to get your attention.”

“Don’t exaggerate, you’re late as usual. It’s a good thing we can take as long as we like over lunch.”

“I guess that’s the way it is when you become important people.” Vi slid into the booth. “So, what’s up?”

“Let’s order lunch first.” Marissa signaled the waiter and ordered a Pepsi. Vi ordered a Tom Collins. Their drinks arrived and they placed their orders for lunch. Vi ordered the sirloin steak, mashed potatoes, and steamed broccoli. Marissa ordered the filet mignon, mashed potatoes, and steamed asparagus.

“Preliminaries out of the way, okay, give.”

Marissa remained quiet for a moment, then, “Before you arrived, I’d been thinking about the first time we met.”

“Yeah, was I a surprise, or what?”

“Surprise is a mild word for my reaction to you. I didn’t think people like you and Carl were into the type of things I’d been into.”

“After all the shit you’d been through, you were still so damn credulous.” Vi shook her head. “It’s funny you should bring that up. The other day, I thought about Carl and wondered what he was up to, after all this time.”

“Probably with two unsuspecting women, smiling his charming smile, and enticing them into one of his kinky diversions.”

“Yeah, but I wonder if he’s still as good-looking, and
soooo
sexy.”

“True, he was all that. Way too sexy.”

Vi giggled and stood up. “Hey, before we tear the poor guy down, time out.” She excused herself and weaved her way through the restaurant to the ladies’ room.

Marissa turned toward the window. Chin resting on her palm, she reacquainted herself with the peaceful panorama. In her mind, she conjured up a clear picture of Carl, and oh yeah, he was all that. He’d had the type of sexuality reminiscent of Graham.

Vi returned to the table, must have noticed Marissa’s distant look, and snapped her fingers in front of Marissa’s face. “Girlfriend...what’s up with you? What’s going on in your life that has you so dazed? Bring me up to date,” Vi urged. “With the new job, I’ve been so busy, there isn’t enough time in the day for us to get together like we used to.”

Marissa remained quiet and thoughtful while the waiter placed the food on the table. She should have told Vi more about Tristan months ago. But she didn’t think the relationship would go beyond the first month. She grabbed her napkin, laid it across her lap, picked up her knife and fork, and started slicing her steak as she spoke. “There’s a new man in my life.”

“Girl, I’m scared of you,” Vi teased. “Seriously, it’s about time. You’ve needed someone in your life. What’s his name and when did you meet him?”

“We’ve been seeing each other off and on for a few months.”

“Excuse me? You’ve been with him for a couple of months and you’re just getting around to telling me about him? What’s with that?”

“Hey, if you’ll remember, I did tell you I’d met someone. Just didn’t make a big deal of it, because I didn’t think it would last,” Marissa replied. “I didn’t want to jinx it by getting excited or getting your hopes up, and have him walk. Besides, we weren’t really together, until now.” She smiled. “He moved in with me.”

“That’s serious, and you seem excited. He is something good for a change, isn’t he?”

“He’s terrific and his name is Tristan.”

“So what’s the problem?” Vi probed. “And don’t try to put me off, because I know you. If you need to talk, something’s wrong. Tell me about him.”

“Well, he’s seven years younger than me,” she said, chuckling at Vi’s sidelong glance. “He’s great in bed. No, actually, he’s better than great, and he says he loves me.”

“So what’s bothering you, the age difference?”

Marissa snorted. “I wish.”

“Okay, start at the beginning. It’s obvious you care about him. Are you falling in love with this man?”

“Falling in love? I’m in love, more than I thought possible.” Eyebrow arched, she glared at Vi. “We met at the club the night you were supposed to meet me there.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember now...one of Craig’s friends.”

“Yeah, I thought that would jog your memory.” Marissa smirked. “Odd thing was I spotted him as soon as he arrived. I was so sexually aware of him, it was embarrassing.”

“Pissed you off, did it?”

“Hell yeah, then Craig brought him to my table and introduced us. I don’t know what was wrong with me, Vi, I was way too aware of him.”

“Marissa, you are not dead, nor comatose.”

“True, but when he asked me to dance and touched me, we were out of control. You should have seen him, more aroused than me.”

“Of course you weren’t doing anything to perpetuate his condition.”

“Hell, I wanted to jump his bones, right there, in the middle of the club. If there had been any place for privacy...”

“Are you serious?” Vi frowned. “Ever since I’ve known you, your interaction with men has been anything but...well, you’re so impersonal. So...”

“Cold,” Marissa finished for her.

“Well yeah, cold is the word I want. I thought my cynical self was bad, but your interaction with men has been damn near antagonistic. I didn’t think I’d ever see this look of excitement about you, over a man.”

“I know, but―”

“Of course, I know why you’re that way.” Taking a bite of her steak, Vi slanted a glance at Marissa. “Have you told him?”

“No, I can’t. Not yet.”

“Girl, if he loves you, it won’t matter about your past.”

“The past, I don’t know. Lately, it seems all I’ve been thinking about is the past. The dreams are back.” She paused, expecting Vi to comment, but she didn’t, and Marissa went on. “There’s something I haven’t told you about Tristan.”

“What more do I need to know? You have seven years on him, big deal. If you’re as into this man as you appear to be, and he cares about you, what’s to tell? I like him already.” Vi picked up her drink and took a sip.

“Vi, Tristan’s white.”

Eyes widening, Vi gasped, “Ex-
cuse
me!” Trying to speak and swallow, spewing liquid, she sputtered, “I think...did I...” Coughing, she set her glass down, swiped up her napkin, wiped dribble from her chin, and began again. “Wait one happy damn minute. No, you didn’t.” She shook her head. “I must have misunderstood.”

“Vi...”

“Uh-uh, let me make sure I heard correctly.” She dabbed at her mouth. “Did you say this man is Caucasian?”

“Yes.”

“And seven years younger than you?”

“Yes.”

Vi laughed hysterically.

“Will you stop?” Marissa growled, gripping Vi’s hand as she glanced around the restaurant. “You’re attracting attention.”

Vi calmed a little. “I can’t help it. You...” She continued to laugh, wiping her eyes with the napkin. “A white man, after the fiasco with Carl, and poor Craig, who is still madly in love with you, I didn’t think you’d ever speak to a white man again, much less...well!” Vi sobered. “This Tristan must be something special. What’s he like?”

“He’s tall, over six feet, white-blond hair, sort of turquoise, aquamarine eyes, and buff.”

“Damn. You have all the luck. First Carl...” Vi held up her hand. “Oh no, missee, don’t even try to deny it. Carl wanted you. I mean he really wanted you. And Craig badgered me until I introduced you to him, and from what you’ve said, I gather you have this Tristan hooked too. I have to meet this one.”

“Sure.”

“All joking aside, this has all the makings of permanency. Are you both serious? What about all the crap associated with interracial relationships?”

“We’re dealing with it.”

“And the families?”

“His live in West Virginia—”

“West Virginia!” Vi hooted. “A southerner...white...seven years younger, you don’t half-step when you decide to do something.”

“Well...” Eyes widening in an attempt to look innocent, Marissa could tell Vi wasn’t buying it. “Seriously Vi, it’s scary, his job requires a lot of travel, and it’s hard when he’s gone. I’m on edge when he leaves, believing he won’t come back, and when he returns, I’m wary, thinking it will be like Joel.”

“This is too weird. I can’t take it all in,” Vi said.

“You... I can’t take it in. I haven’t cared about anyone like this in years.”

“I know.” Vi gave an exaggerated sigh. “I’ve had a few of your casualties whining on my shoulder.”

“Oh yeah, right. Don’t even. Trying to sound so put upon. You loved every minute of it.”

Vi tried to look pathetic, couldn’t maintain the front, and laughed. “Okay, you’re right.” She glanced down at her watch. “Oh shit! Look at the time.” She scooted to the end of their booth and stood. “I have to get back to work, but I want to hear more about this man. I think you need some serious attitude adjustment. Let’s do dinner at my place. Is tonight good for you?”

“Uh-uh. Tristan’s leaving in the morning, how about tomorrow night. It’s hard the first night he’s gone, and I could use the company.”

“Okay, your place, tomorrow night, any preferences.”

“No, you choose.” Marissa picked up the check and paid the bill. It was her turn. They exited the restaurant, paused for a quick hug, and went off to their respective jobs.

Marissa returned home earlier than usual, gathered up the mail, kicked off her shoes, and headed for the bedroom. Opting for a long, hot, soothing bath, she undressed, slipped into her robe, and went into the hall bathroom. She sprinkled vanilla-scented bath crystals into the tub and started the water. While the tub filled, she returned to the bedroom. If she ever bought a new house, she would make sure the master bedroom had a tub and a shower.

Stretched out across the bed, she sorted through the mail, trashing the junk and putting the bills on the bedside table. She returned to the bathroom and moved about lighting candles. The combination of steamy water and the aroma of vanilla permeating the air created the atmosphere she needed to relax.

Well, if you’d just tell him.

She impatiently shrugged off her robe along with her irritating thoughts, sank down into the scented depths of the water, and felt the tension drain from her body. Head resting on the back of the tub, she closed her eyes.

“Do not ignore dreams. They are a line from the past to the future.”

― Max Gladstone,
Two Serpents Rise

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Marissa—15 years old

Fifteen, sixteen in two weeks, she’d been out on a few dates, if they could be called dates. Okay, to be fair, they were dates by the parents’ standards—chaperoned. To a movie or on a picnic in a group, Brittany had to go with her, and you’d think nothing could have been worse. Wrong. If Brittany wasn’t available, the ultimate humiliation had been taking her mouthy little sister with her, or the parents wouldn’t let her go. What a waste.

There were rules to be broken, lines to cross, new dimensions of her sexuality to explore, yet no opportunity to venture into them. She’d become so arrogant―another dubious influence of the gang―adopting their male attitude and using it against unwary males who hit on her. Frank egged her on, said it added a harder edge to her personality. But what purpose did that serve?

With her looks and arrogance, she had a reputation that wasn’t beneficial to dating. Guys in the neighborhood thought of her as a stuck-up prude and avoided her, though they would give anything to take her down. They didn’t risk it because of Frank.

Imagine...her, a prude.

“Frank, do you think I’m taking it too far?” she asked one night when they were sitting on her front stoop. Frank had stopped by with a couple of Pat’s Philly Cheesesteak sandwiches, two Frank’s black cherry sodas, and her favorite Tastycake...butterscotch Krimpet. With their meal spread out between them on the top step, she smiled at her cousin.

“Taking what too far?”

“In the beginning, the guys were a challenge, now, they’re like the enemy. Anything I do to them, and you know I can get nasty, I feel they deserve it.”

“Baby girl, I’ve told you, those guys are big boys, don’t sweat it.”

“Yeah, I know, but in my own way, I feel I’m getting even for all women, especially the ones you and the guys talk about.”

“Marissa, those women come into the relationship knowing what they want from us, if you get my meaning. You’re not in their class. If anybody tries to force you, or hurt you in any way, you will let me know, right?”

“Sure.”

She never worried about getting hurt. She could take care of herself.

The situation with her current boyfriend justified her belief there were males with a plan to knock her off an imaginary pedestal.

Matthew Miller, another man with little comprehension of the English language when she explained the boundaries of their relationship. Tall and good-looking, he had hazel eyes, ginger-colored skin, a sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of his nose, fanning out along his cheekbones.