Damion Page 11

  “We re-invest in another and…”

  “Slow and steady, we’re never using this place as collateral so whatever we do, this place is always protected. Deal?”

  Devon nods. “Deal. The other thing: it’s funny that Kaeja came up today and Claudia’s seeing her again, but I think we should hire her to redesign our logos and advertising. Ours is old and outdated and she can start an entire new branding and redo all our signage and menus and pamphlets… everything.”

  Yeah. She could and would and should. I suck in air at the odd ping in my heart and twist of my stomach. Nerves? Over Kaeja? Maybe. It feels strange after all this time. “Okay, we get started with the market study and feasibility, and then we discuss the financing before we start building up a damn franchise empire, Devon. One step at a time.”

  He rises to his feet, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I have to tell you… this freaking excites me.”

  “Me too.” We exchange smiles and he turns to leave.

  I lean back in my chair. Damn… wow, Chloe’s Corner Café with multiple locations? It rumbles around my gut as something big and profitable that could make Devon and me more than two proprietors of a café. Until recently, I thought that was enough, but the challenge of this new idea is already quickly starting to sprout and multiply and yeah. Damn. Yes.

  Chapter 7

  DAMION

  It starts to manifest. Claudia and Devon go to Marsdale to scout the sites and do research. Both business school graduates, they use their combined knowledge to conduct market studies. The subsequent reports and polls provide us with the necessary information to launch our ideas as well as try out new strategies. Marsdale turns out not to be the chosen place. The small neighboring town of Calliston matches our needs and seems to be the best place we could open the second Chloe’s Corner Café. Only forty minutes away from Marsdale, of course, Claudia has family there. Aunts, uncles, cousins, and cousins of cousins promise plenty of support.

  I scout the area and location. We get a business loan and Claudia becomes half partner; since she puts up the most capital. We buy an abandoned, old Denny’s and start a remodel, based on the same plan as our current location. We follow through with similar colors and the same set-up to imbue it with the same ambience of the Silver Springs location.

  This all takes several months to set into action. So, Devon and Claudia buy a house on two acres that they fill with furniture and eclectic items they choose together. They are very busy and spend more time away from my apartment, leaving me and Dayshia to ourselves more often, which is good. The transition is something we need to get used to and be better at.

  Life moves forward, right? It feels like a long time since mine has.

  Finally, now I think my life is proceeding too. And it feels so fresh, I’m both excited and content with my present circumstances and myself as far as the actions I’ve taken in it.

  KAEJA

  Claudia and I start working out together, beginning with yoga. I teach her the most basic positions in hatha. We go shopping and I tell her all the different meals I like to make. I also advise her on the tricks I use to keep myself from grabbing junk food or something easy when I’m in a hurry. We spend a lot of time together and damn, if I don’t start looking forward to it. There is nothing too profound in our relationship. It’s a slow build-up of usually an hour: she comes over to do yoga with me, then lunch on Saturdays, and maybe a phone conversation to ask me about food prep, or medications, or my favorite all-natural lotions as well as new topics. It’s making a slow, deep connection that I never knew I wanted to have. It’s pretty powerful.

  I also realize that I’m not in first grade like I was with Ireena. This is how adults make new connections.

  We flop down on our butts after a particularly hard power session of yoga. “Kaeja, I think it’s working. I think my legs are tighter. When I squeeze them, the muscles actually contract.”

  Her excitement is adorable. This smart, articulate woman runs a large corporation and is poised to take it over someday soon. She is also helping her fiancé and brother start a restaurant franchise. She is practically financing all of it, yet she still gets so excited over the slight improvement she can see from our yoga sessions. It’s pretty adorable. Her eyes sparkle as she stands in my workout room. She stares over her shoulder that’s showcased in the line of mirrors on the wall. She’s examining her ass and squeezing each cheek in turn. As she proclaimed, each side jolts upwards.

  “I mean, I’m not skinny as if I crash dieted; no, it’s smoother and tighter and it just looks better…”

  I give her a piercing glare. “Feels better.” I find myself correcting her constantly to dump all the negative fat-talk.

  “Right, feels better. I went in for my final fitting and my arms looked amazing. Tighter is better, even if I’m not super skinny. I feel… stronger too.”

  I lean over, stretching the backsides of my legs. “Strong enough to match the kick-ass strong business woman you already are. That’s what you should be. Not skinny and starving.”

  “Right. Because that will never be my body type.”

  I smile. I’ve been drilling positive statements into her and urging her to think them more often. “Exactly, just like me. We can’t all be size zero or tall or elegant, not with our body types. Can’t fight God.” I tease her. She knows I mean everyone is subjected to predispositions to certain conditions, genetics, and family history. They all determine each person’s body chemistry and I’m a firm believer in working with that, not against it. Fighting against it results in the endless cycle of gain and loss that ruins people’s metabolisms, self-confidence and ultimately, even worse, their sense of self-worth.

  Claudia started working out with me three days a week. Our yoga was her therapy, restorative yin to stretch her out and relax her. Being in a highly stressful job and environment, Claudia used food as a way to handle it. The relaxation from stretching and meditation we added did wonders in helping her deal with her stress and multi-tasking. We used power and hatha disciplines to build strength and provide aerobic exercise to give her the body changes she seeks. All of it was healthy, slow, and with a conscious effort of long-term change. Eventually, I start to coach her on what to eat. I’m no nutritionist but I do a decent job as a guide when it comes to portion sizes and types of food without calorie counting or staunch restriction.

  Most of what I tell her is stuff I’ve taught myself. The yoga and meditation are simply how I live my life. They give me balance and body acceptance, which Claudia believes I’m providing for her. It’s not magic to me, but she thinks it is. She even tried to pay me for my services on so many occasions, I finally had to shut her down by forbidding her from entering my house if she ever offers again.

  She also told everyone who would listen about her new program and the mentor teaching her. She asks her friends from college, some of whom I recognize, to come over and try out what I’ve taught her. They soon request my time and help as well as my lifestyle training.

  At first, I resist, but they practically beg me. I finally agree, but the time and energy it requires… well, eventually I do accept their offers of payment. Then, holy shit. Without any effort or strain from me, I now have a side business going. One that takes up my weeknights and weekends and earns more than my day job. It’s spontaneous and unplanned and a pleasant shock to me. I never realized I had such a marketable idea or solution to today’s lifestyle. Avoiding crash diets and fads, and implementing old-fashioned nutritional changes and workouts is a way of life. I’ve urged all of them to look this up on the internet and put their own routine together for free, in the interest of full disclosure. They all insist they will never do it, and claim it only makes sense when I explain it. I have no idea why. Maybe I do have a relaxing presence.

  My voice is deep for a woman, and some say it is calm and cool and soothing. When I say things, I use few words… and it seems my brevity makes people believe me… I guess they find me inspiring, which is bat-
shit crazy to me. I don’t even know what to call myself. I have clients for yoga, meditation and health-food regimes. All receive the same disclaimer: I have no formal training. I’m just sharing what I do.

  “I can’t wait for Devon to see me now in the dress,” Claudia gushes. She is glowing. That is my reward. I compare her now to the shameful, depressed, sorry-to-be-wedding-dress-shopping woman that I saw when I first reacquainted with Claudia. She’s the most golden person I know, inside and out, and realizing she doesn’t see it, is truly eye-opening.

  Her wedding is so close now. I figure I’ll finally see Damion again. He’s best man, so, duh and I’m certainly expected to be there. No one is closer to me than Claudia Tamasy as of this moment. Her long-time friend, Gail, and her two sisters are her matron-of-honor and bridesmaids, but I sense she would ask me too. We’ve become that close. Seeing each other at least five days a week makes for intimate daily contact. I share my whole life with her. It spills over to my work in graphic designing and advertising and hers with Tamasy Industries. The workers and clients and both of us suffer the daily frustration of being business women.

  “I’m sure he can’t wait to get you out of it. The man is stupid over you. You don’t need any kind of dress for him.”

  She smiles, and that dreamy, in-love look shines on her face. I’m aching with desire to feel it. Jealously, I want to understand what that look means. I’ve never gotten remotely close to being in love with a man. I’ve dated. And had sex. And relationships. All went fine. I’ve never been heartbroken or felt betrayed. I haven’t ever been hurt in romance by the opposite sex. Not really. The closest I came to it was the encounter with Damion, but that was so convoluted and complicated, I still wonder how to catalogue it.

  Wrong. Just wrong. An error in judgment.

  Looking and feeling the passion for one another, which Claudia so visibly does toward Devon, is what I want and vice versa. But no. Ireena felt that way with Damion, which was a surprise and huge. I truly thought she was using Damion. Just to prove she could. But then I realized how wrong I was. No, crap. My best friend was in love. The kind of love that changes you and makes you all warm and fuzzy inside and dopey smile-stupid. Things you’d never tolerate before.

  “Are you okay to see Damion?”

  I tune back into Claudia. She quit staring at her ass and flopped down on her mat. Now, she is finished with her exercises and relaxing. She’s always quite dramatic about being done. It’s a huge accomplishment for her each time. “I am. It’s overdue actually. It’s hard for us not to see each other, so I think it makes it a thing. You know?”

  “He’s not seeing anyone.”

  I groan and jump to my feet. Owing to the stretch I was in the middle of, my leg muscles rebel at the sudden change in movement. I have runners’ thighs that carry me with added strength. “I didn’t ask or care if he was. Really, Claudia. It was a moment in time we needed each other because of what happened, but we’re not meant for each other.”

  “He hasn’t seen anyone since Ireena. He’s been celibate, as far as I know. He said he had to reflect on everything he did wrong before he could change; so it’s been some kind of long-term punishment.”

  I give her a small eye roll. “That you know of. You didn’t know about me.”

  She rolls on her back, and then her side as she rests her head on her hand, her elbow on the ground. “True. But, he’s… different. Serious. Like he’s been through something awful and now he’s scared to try again. Does that make any sense?”

  “It does. But I’ll never be the answer.”

  Claudia squints at me. “Why not?”

  “Why? Do you want me to be?”

  She sighs and flops back to her stomach. “Truthfully? I think you’re fabulous. Wonderful. He’d be lucky to have you. I think…” She gives me a little look. “Please don’t hate me, but I think after the hurricane and tornado that was Ireena to his life, you would be like the most beautiful, tranquil, tropical warm waters to just wade into and be. Does that make sense?”

  “It does. I know what you mean. They had a tumultuous relationship.”

  “You’re so the opposite. And to be honest? After helping him raise Dayshia, I hate to see him alone again. I feel guilty leaving him now but I also know it’s time.”

  I raise my eyebrows in the mirror at Claudia. “Are you trying to make sure he’s taken care of so you can get married guilt-free?”

  She shrugs and face plants onto her yoga mat so I can’t see her. But she finally nods, and says, although her words are muffled by the mat, “Yes. I’m totally doing that. Consider it. He’s hot and needy and he could use… a friend.” Her head pops up. “But you’re incredible and I think you could use one too.”

  She jumps to her feet and starts packing her towel and water bottle before rolling her mat up.

  “Thank you, Claudia.”

  “It’s true.” She pauses to stare at me. “You… you’ve become my best friend. I don’t know if that’s okay, considering Ireena, but…”

  “I know. I feel that way too. She would hate it. But she’d also do it in a heartbeat if the roles were reversed and your friendship was something she sought.”

  “We probably shouldn’t do things because Ireena would. That seems like a good warning to do the opposite.”

  I laugh and hook my arm around her shoulder. “She was my friend, not a saint. We can be best friends. I can’t wait to see you in that dress.”

  “Thank you. I can’t wait either. I know it’s just a day, but I’m honestly so excited for this particular day.”

  “You should be. I believe this is the start of a life, not just a day to be pretty, or the center of attention or to fulfill a childhood desire.”

  And it’s a day for me to see Damion. Wow. Why does that stab me so sharply? Is it good or bad? I don’t know.

  He looks the same. Just like Devon. Duh. It’s all logical and known to me, but still, my palms are clammy from the uncontrollable and uncharacteristic sweating. My heart rattles hard in my chest and as soon as my gaze zeroes in on him, I immediately drop my head down and pretend I don’t see him. My entire body tenses and I run my palms on my thighs, hoping the cotton of my dress will soak up the excessive moisture.

  We’re in Silver Springs’ oldest church. The same damn place I last saw him dressed up. I recall the rush of emotions that overcame me. But this time it’s not due to crippling fear and sadness or confusion and regrets. This time, it’s much simpler. I relish the satisfaction I feel for Devon and Claudia as my nerves quiver to see him. The church is done in shades of Claudia’s favorite color, blue. The men wear traditional tuxedos. The guests are already seated. I slipped in through a side door, hoping to avoid the chit-chat of the Willapana and Kincaid families. I also don’t want to be escorted to my seat by Devon or Damion or Wesley or Wyatt, all groomsmen and ushers.

  I slide into a middle pew on the far side of the aisle. Unobtrusive. There they are. Devon, Damion and the minister walk slowly and solemnly, as they previously rehearsed, down the aisle. My heart skips a beat and thumps harder. Yeah, they’re twins. Wearing almost the exact same outfit, yet there is only one Damion. He fills my eyes and heart and soul. All of my thoughts center on him and he steals my breath away. Seeing him sucks all the oxygen from my lungs. I can’t believe a full year has passed. My passion is just as strong as the night we had sex, and my entire body clenches at the glimpse of him. How handsome and eye catching he is. How can anyone take their eyes off him? My heart twists in longing. I am finally seeing the one person that I truly know… and who knows me. Maybe I don’t. Not anymore. A year is a long time and so much can change. In just under two years, Damion managed to cheat with his brother’s girlfriend, father a baby, marry Ireena, have the baby, start to raise his baby and lose his wife. A lot can change in a short amount of time.

  My stomach churns and knots before it hollows out in butterflies. I can’t stop staring at him standing so tall and strong at the side of his brother and sli
ghtly behind. They hold their clasped hands in front of their stomachs, nice and proper, mirror images of each other. It makes me smile. Such a breathtakingly attractive pair of men. Long, black eyelashes, gold-edged dark brown eyes… even if I can’t see them from here, I know exactly how his eyes glow. The flash of perfect white teeth and bowed mouths with the plumper lower lips. The only differences are Damion’s nose is angled a centimeter wider on his cheek than Devon’s. And Devon is physically smaller. Damion also has wider shoulders and bulkier arms and muscles. Left over from his days working the docks. He must still be lifting weights.

  All the guests turn to see the flower girl… My heart melts and I find myself clutching my chest. Not on purpose, but from shock. I don’t mean to overreact, but I gasp as my gaze devours her. Dayshia. Of course, she’s the flower girl. Clad in a mini white dress of lace and froth, the ribbons trail from her braids that are threaded through two pigtails. Like a perfect miniature queen. She walks solemnly, carefully dropping flower petals as she goes. She doesn’t even break out into a grin or glance around or look at anyone. Is she nervous? I don’t know.

  The other thing? She’s a spitting replica of Ireena. It’s incredible. She could be Ireena’s Mini-me. Instead of skin the color of dusted copper like Ireena’s, Dayshia has the dark tones of a shaded forest floor. But Dayshia’s facial features, including the big eyes and smooth, thick hair come from her mother. My heart swells with joy. It expands so much, tears fill up my eyes. Oh, Ireena, you should be here right now to see your daughter.

  I sniff. Probably the only one crying at the sight of the precious, perfect, tiny flower girl. Everyone smiles and reacts to all her cuteness with oohs and ahhs. Such perfection in only two years of existence. When she spots Damion, she forgets about walking and dropping the flower petals and she simply runs up to him. He doesn’t scold her, but grins as he bends down and takes her into his arms. She buries her head in his shoulder and he shrugs, scanning everyone’s fond gazes and the soft ahhs that fill the room. A few chuckles lighten the situation of a toddler losing her composure at a formal wedding.