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Four of these damn garages and his bike just happens to be in the one where my car is parked.
“Is that thing safe?” I offered with a smile just as he lifted his helmet. Elias turned to face me with a hard, deliberate look.
“Pending the driver, yes.” He tossed his chin toward my car. “Is that?”
“Yes.”
His smile was an indication he’d caught my offense. Motorcycles were known for being two-wheeled death traps. My car was just…old.
“My brother will buy you a new car. I’m sure you can have your pick of anything you want.”
“I don’t need a new car. This one is fine.”
His introspective gaze moved to my Jetta then crawled back up to meet my annoyed expression. “I’m only mentioning it for safety reasons. You are one of us now. That means you need to be safe at all costs. Being stuck on the side of the road or in a dark, abandoned parking lot would be an open invitation for trouble. I don’t give a shit what you drive and neither does Ez, outside of ensuring you’ll be safe.”
I nodded. “What does Cress drive?”
“When she’s not with a driver, a Range, one she’s had for years that she purchased.” He smirked, sending a message. His wife was independent. I appreciated that. “But she has plenty of others to choose from, as will you if that’s what you want. I like the car. Jettas are classic and as long as yours runs properly then I don’t give a damn if you drive it or not.”
“You mean Ezekiel doesn’t mind?”
His smile was barely there when he lowered his eyes to the ring on my finger. “I meant exactly what I said. You’re one of us.” He turned his back to me and mounted his bike. Before he pulled the helmet over his head he swung his eyes in my direction again. “Congratulations by the way.”
“Thank you.” I couldn’t curb my smile and he chuckled, covering his head with the helmet. The garage door lifted and he walked the bike backwards while I got in my car to leave. Before my side of the garage door was up, he was gone and I smiled again.
Welcome to the family, Mrs. Omari.
***
By lunch I resembled being recovered from all the wine I’d consumed last night but still had the dull pulse of a headache so I decided to grab something light to eat.
I decided on a salad and sandwich from The Deli, hoping that would do the trick. Unfortunately, I had a very uncooperative contractor on the phone who hadn’t delivered on timelines he’d promised which meant he was holding up other progress. They couldn’t move forward with the flooring until all the cabinetry was installed. Those cabinets were two days past their delivery date which meant the contractor was a week behind on installing them.
“Ma’am…”
“Ms. Abraham…” I corrected because the way he saidma’amwas condescending.
“Ms. Abraham…” His tone was tight. “I had a delay on my end that I couldn’t avoid which means a delay on your end. My guys are on standby and the minute the cabinets arrive…”
“That’s not helping our issue, Mr. Davis.” This was the issue with having the product and labor committed to the same company. He held all the cards. “Your guys are a week behind installing them which means everything else is behind. Unless your guys have the ability to turn back time, there’s not much they can do to alleviate this issue.”
“Cute. Look, I’m doing the best I can…”
“Your best is not good enough. Considering the amount of money you’re receiving to deliver I would expect this would rate higher on your list of priorities.”
I felt an end to this call happening so I got out of my car and stepped onto the sidewalk, heading toward The Deli.
“Look, I’ll call Omari and…”
“You can talk to me,” I spat with annoyance. “I’m in charge of the project which means I’m in charge of making sure you do your job. Considering all the money attached to the contract, which has specific termsyouaccepted, I would hope you would be more professional.”
“You’re in charge of the project?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Says who?” he challenged.
“Ezekiel Omari, my fiancé.” I hated throwing the title at him. This man should respect me because I was indeed in charge, however, this guy…
