Excerpt - Tell Me You Want Me
Obsidian is where I sit on a Friday night with the
four men, (or shall I call them interns?) and their significant others who’ve
mastered my mentoring program. This feat for them means much more than any
college degree. In fact, they won’t need a bachelor’s, master’s or anything of
the sort because they have my knowledge. My name alone, speaks for them. They’ll
go off to have excellent careers, hence our celebration tonight.
It was Livia’s idea to do this because I’m not the
type to put something like this together. She said it would be something cool
to do – to mark the beginning of their careers. I had my assistant, Samone,
make us reservations here and here we sit but Livia’s not here yet.
I pull my pocket watch out to check the time. It’s
7:04 p.m. I inhale a slightly worried breath. She should’ve been here by now. I
clear my throat and take a sip of Jack. She’s fine, I know, but this is beyond
awkward for me.
Looking around the table, I’m proud of these men
despite my social anxiety. They’ve come a long way and have set themselves up
in a position that promises wealth and prosperity. It’s what I have. Wealth.
Prosperity. But a smart man knows it’s not money that makes him wealthy. I
learned that the moment I met Livia.
Where is she?
“This place is nice, Mr. Halifax,” one of the guys
says. “I never could imagine sitting inside a place like this. Shoot, the only
reason I’m here now is because you’re paying for it.”
I look at him and know I’m supposed to say
something – you know – be conversational and all, but I really don’t have
anything to add. Then I think about what Livia would say if she was here. Talk
to the man, she’d say. Open up. You’re the man. You have nothing to be
apprehensive about. Besides, these men look up to you.
I clear my throat, get out of my head and say, “You’re
well on your—”
My words easily get hung up in my throat when I
look up and see Livia walking this way. In fact, every cell in my body pauses,
allowing my eyes to feast on this woman. She has her hair straightened, hanging
past her shoulders. She has on a white blouse that’s cinched at the waist and a
camel colored, leather skirt that falls to her knees. She’s carrying a little gold
purse in her hand – the kind of purse she has at these fancy galas we attend
only this isn’t a gala. This is dinner at an upscale restaurant. I suppose
they’re one in the same.
I can’t tear my eyes away from her. As she walks
this way, I feel her energy connecting to mine. She smiles, drawing my
attention to the blush on her cheeks and her pretty white teeth. I notice other
things about her that she’s changed, because she didn’t look like this when she
left for work this morning. However, she gets off early on Fridays and I know
she uses the extra time to pamper herself. I’d say she did that today with her
burgundy fingernails and professionally done makeup. Her lips are the same color
as her nails. I much prefer her without makeup because I know the true beauty
it hides, but she likes it so I like it. I’m just glad she’s here.
I swallow the lump in my throat and blink out of
my trance when she’s almost at the table. My guests have since looked to see
what had captured my attention and now they’re back looking at me.
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