Pride and Consequence

“Do you have room left for anything?” Malik asked his petite wife, watching as she scanned the menu of Louisiana specialties.

“Please,” Zakira drawled without looking away from the menu, “I’ve been thinking about that gumbo since you told me about this place.”

“Did I hear someone say gumbo?”

Zakira looked up and smiled at the cheerful young woman who had arrived at the table. “You sure did. I’d like your biggest bowl,” she said, giggling when Malik uttered a soft mocking sound of shock.

“Great choice,” the perky honey-complexioned waitress replied before turning to Malik. “And will it be the same for you, sir?”

Malik’s slanting gaze narrowed a bit more and he pushed his menu aside. “Nah, I think I’m gonna pass.”

Zakira leaned forward. “Baby, aren’t you gonna eat anything?”

“Just bring me a glass of lemonade, will you?” he asked the waitress, who smiled and nodded before leaving the table.

“You must be hungry? You barely sampled any of the food out there,” Zakira noted, watching Malik shrug. “Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m fine, Zaki. Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting, I just—”

“I’m going to the restroom. I’ll be back.” He interjected, leaving Zakira staring after him.

Lunch was a quiet affair. Malik’s silence had unnerved and angered her so that Zakira managed to finish only half of the spicy rich seafood gumbo. She had the remainder of the lunch packed in a to-go container and told her husband she would see him later. She spent the rest of the afternoon visiting more booths, chatting with other restaurant owners and enjoying the vibrant beauty of the seaside resort. She adjourned to the suite much later that afternoon and decided to take a nap before the evening’s scheduled gala.

Subtle tingles of sensation surged up and down Zakira’s spine. She shivered in her sleep and snuggled deeper into the warm queen-sized bed.

“Zaki…”

“Hmm?” she moaned, slowly awakening when the pleasurable sensations grew stronger as they coursed through her body.

Malik’s perfect teeth fastened to Zakira’s earlobe and he whispered her name again. When her lashes fluttered open and her brown eyes focused on his face, he pressed a kiss to her mouth.

Zakira rolled her eyes in response. When she turned her head away, she could hear his deep chuckle in her ear.

“I’m sorry,” he sang.

Zakira turned onto her back and fixed him with an unimpressed glare. “I know,” she replied pointedly

Again, Malik chuckled. “Forgive me?”

Zakira laced her fingers together atop the crisp blue sheets. “I guess I could, if I knew what happened. We were having a great time, and all of a sudden you flip.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

“And that’s it? You’ve been acting strange for a while now, and your only explanation is you’re sorry?”

Malik fixed her with another devastating smile. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he declared, leaning over when she turned her face away.

The soft lingering kisses he dropped to her neck slowly melted the ice wall she had constructed. After a few moments, she turned and pulled him into bed with her. Malik’s hands were everywhere, caressing, squeezing, fondling…. Zakira moaned his name as her fingers entwined in the long dreadlocks. Malik cupped her breasts in his wide palms and savored the taste of one, firm bud. The kisses journeyed upward, landing against Zakira’s collarbone and along the smooth column of her neck.

“Mmm…” she moaned, encircling his neck as she arched into his chest. The fabric of his shirt grazed her bare skin with the most delicious intensity. Suddenly, the full force of his massive frame settled across Zakira’s body and her eyes snapped open.

“Mmm…Malik, wait a minute…Malik…Malik?” she called, nudging his side with her knee.

There was no response and she began to shove against his broad shoulders. “Malik? Son of a…” she sighed, realizing her husband had fallen asleep while making love to her. When the sound of soft snores caught her ear, she braced all her weight against his and managed to push him away.

While Malik slumbered, Zakira stood next to the bed and watched him. Her suspicions were raging, and the strange pill bottle was at the center of her thoughts.

“Forget this,” she whispered. “I have a party to dress for.” She headed for the bathroom while Malik’s snoring gained volume.

“Actually, we’ve been having problems simply finding a venue for the event.”

“Who wouldn’t want to take part in something like that?”

Two women stood talking next to Zakira at the buffet table. The annual Saturday Night Gala had been in full swing when she arrived. The black-and-white affair offered dancing, wine tasting and, of course, an immense dinner buffet.

“You’d be surprised how fast people shy away when they find out something’s for charity. Especially the businesses. All they care about is what type of fee they’ll generate for renting out their establishment.”

“Excuse me?”

The two women silenced their discussion and turned to face Zakira.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said with a smile. “I couldn’t help but overhear. What is your charity, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“No, of course not. It’s the Richmond Children’s Cancer Research Fund.”

“Richmond? Virginia?” Zakira asked.

The woman who had spoken pressed one white-gloved hand to her throat. “Yes, it’s really just a group of doctors’ wives who run the organization. We have no ties with the hospitals or state agencies, but we’ve managed to collect over half a million dollars during our two years in existence.”

“That’s admirable,” Zakira breathed, highly impressed by the group’s success.

Suddenly, the woman shook her head and gave a nervous laugh. “Please forgive me. I don’t know where my manners are. I’m Lydia Cartright.”

“And I’m Jessica Black.”

Zakira set her plate down on the buffet table and shook hands with both women. “Zakira Badu, I’m also from Richmond.”

“Well, it’s certainly nice to meet a home girl.” Lydia noted before gesturing at their surroundings. “So, what brings you all the way to a California food festival? Pigging out like the rest of us?”

Zakira laughed. “Yes and no,” she replied. “My husband owns a restaurant in Richmond. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of Badu’s?”

“Badu’s?” Lydia and Jessica cried, exchanging glances.

“Honey, my husband and I eat there all the time!” Jessica was saying.

“Same here. In fact, Badu’s was the next restaurant on my list,” Lydia softly mentioned.

Zakira’s brown eyes narrowed. “On your list?”

Jessica cleared her throat and fiddled with the folds of her white satin evening gown. “Lydia’s trying to organize the next event for the charity. We were thinking of renting a hall and hiring caterers, but then we thought it might be cheaper to rent a nice restaurant for the evening.”

“Unfortunately, your other colleagues in town are making us want to consider a charity picnic,” Lydia shared. “Bring your own food, of course,” she added.

“Well, it sounds like a great cause. I’d love to help any way I can,” Zakira offered, folding her arms over the square bodice of her black evening gown.

Jessica and Lydia were overcome with gratefulness.

“You can’t know what this means for us,” Lydia whispered as she squeezed Zakira’s hands. “We’re hoping to schedule the event two weeks before Christmas—hopefully folks will be a bit more charitable.”

“We can’t pay a lot,” Jessica warned, “but we promise to come up with a suitable figure.”

Zakira waved her hand. “Let’s not discuss all that now,” she said, searching her black clutch purse. “I’ll need to speak with my husband, but I know he’ll be eager to help. Here, hold on to our card and give me a call when you get back to Richmond.”

Jessica’s almond-brown face softened with gratitude. “This means so much, Zakira. Bless you.”

“My goodness,” Lydia suddenly breathed, her green eyes riveted on the tall, gorgeous man who had just entered the ballroom.

Jessica and Zakira turned in time to see Malik make his appearance. Zakira felt her heart flip at the sight of him in the stylish tux. He wore his long dreads in a ponytail and the style only emphasized his rugged, magnificent features.

“Who is that?” Jessica whispered, her dark eyes feasting on Malik who had stopped to speak with two gentlemen.

Zakira smiled and turned to face her new acquaintances. “Ladies, that’s my husband,” she announced, laughing at the friendly envy they allowed her to see. She glanced across her shoulder, her expression rueful. She had managed to forgive Malik’s unexpected nap, but promised that she would not forget to ask him about it.

“All right, you two, please don’t forget to call. I’ll discuss this with Malik and we should be ready to start planning right away.”

Again, Lydia and Jessica reached out to shake her hand.

“Thank you so much, Zakira!”

“We’ll definitely be calling.”

Zakira waved off the two women, grabbed her plate and went in search of her husband. By the time she reached Malik, he was shaking hands with the two men he had been speaking with.

“Did you have a good nap?” she asked, waiting for him to turn around.

Malik let his head fall back and he closed his eyes for a moment. “Zaki,” he sighed, finally turning to face her. “Baby, I’m sorry about that.”

Zakira nodded and focused her smoky brown eyes on her full plate. “I wish I could remember how many times I’ve heard ‘I’m sorry’ over the last two days.”

“It’s about all I can say,” he whispered, bringing his arms around her waist. “That, and I hope you’ll let me make this up to you.”

Zakira selected a plump pink shrimp from her plate and popped it into her mouth. “Make it up to me, hmm? You’ll probably fall asleep before you can get halfway through it.”

Malik’s low laughter rumbled forth. “That’s not the only way I know how to make up, Zaki.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“You gonna give me a chance here, or what?”

Zakira decided to let up a little and raised her eyes to his. “So, what do you have in mind?”

Malik took the plate from Zakira’s hands and set it on the tray of a passing server. “I’d rather show you,” he said, pulling her close.

Zakira began to sway to the rhythm of the sultry Latin groove. “This had better be good,” she warned him.

And it was. Malik was true to his word. At 6 a.m. Sunday morning, he was rousing Zakira from her sleep and telling her to hurry and get dressed. They hopped into a rented convertible and began their day.

Zakira thought the view of the ocean from her fifth-floor balcony was exquisite, but it didn’t compare with the view from the passenger seat of their car. When the sun rose, Malik let the top down and Zakira reveled in the feel of the fresh sea air whipping through her long hair.

“This is incredible!” she shouted, acting like a kid on a roller coaster as her wide eyes scanned the natural beauty surrounding them—entrancing blue water, tall cliffs, towering trees that filtered the gorgeous sunlight and the never-ending curved road that grew steeper as it carried them to a higher altitude.

“When did you think of this?” Zakira asked later that afternoon. They were seated on the hood of the black convertible, with a food-filled straw basket between them.

Malik dipped his wheat cracker into a spicy cheese spread and shrugged. “When I woke up and realized I’d fallen asleep while making love to you.”

Zakira tugged her bottom lip between her teeth and studied his gorgeous profile. She ached to question him about his behavior…and the pills. “Malik—”

“What was it you were wanting to discuss with me after the party? Something about a charity?” he interjected, obviously sensing that she was about to ask something he was not prepared to answer.

“Yeah…” Zakira sighed, deciding it was best not to bring up such a heavy subject. “I met two women from Richmond last night. They’re trying to plan a charity function and are having problems with the venue.”

“Mmm…financial problems?” Malik guessed.

Zakira nodded, as she cut a portion of aged sharp cheddar from the huge block. “They’re offering to pay, but, of course, they can’t afford much. I’m hoping we can work something out. I’d really like to help them,” she said, brushing a speck of cheese from her snug pink V-neck sweater.

“I don’t have a problem with it. Hell, it’ll be tax-deductible.”

“Malik!” Zakira chastised.

“What? I’m just stating a fact,” he said, chuckling at her horrified expression. “Anyway, what’s the charity?”

Zakira nibbled the cheese and followed it with a swig of the fruitful red wine. “It’s the Richmond Children’s Cancer Research Fund. The women I spoke with are doctors’ wives, they…”

“Malik? Baby? Did you hear me?” Zakira said a moment later, noticing the hard, set look on his face.

“We better bounce if we want to make the inn before dark,” he suggested quickly, jumping to the ground and repacking the basket.

Zakira watched him closely, but she did not argue. As the car continued its trek up the gorgeous coast, she decided she would get her answers that night.

“How is it?”

Zakira shook her head. “So good. I’ve never had clam chowder this good. I guess owning a restaurant on the ocean makes it easy to get the best seafood. And I’ve definitely had my fill of it this weekend.”

Malik’s expression reflected concern. “You’re not eating much. Are you sick?”

Zakira swirled her spoon in the creamy pearl-colored chowder. “No, I’m not sick. Are you?” she asked, raising her probing gaze to his face.

He would not respond and a few minutes passed in silence. Zakira silently chastised herself for the question. She hadn’t meant to approach the subject quite that way. Besides, the day had been so wonderful, she didn’t want it to end on a sour note. Unfortunately, Malik’s mood had her more than a little suspicious.

“I had an idea about the charity dinner.”

Zakira forced a phony smile to her face. “Oh?”

Malik ran one hand though his dreads and nodded. “I was wondering if you’d consider working with the staff on the menu and presentation?”

Despite her reluctance to become more active with the business, Zakira discovered she was quite interested in the idea. “What do you have in mind?”

Malik leaned against the oversized wooden high-backed chair. “Well, I was hoping you’d come up with your own ideas and discuss them with the cook staff. We have a meeting every day, so…”

Zakira was nodding. Ideas for the menu were already entering her mind. Of course, she would discuss them with the charity’s coordinators first. Still, she had the feeling this was going to be a very successful event.

“You seem pleased,” Malik observed, taking note of the expression brightening his wife’s pretty chocolate-toned face.

Zakira could not deny it. “It makes me feel good to be part of something so important. I just can’t believe they’ve had a hard time finding a place to have the thing.”

Malik shrugged, pushing up the sleeves of his lightweight navy blue sweatshirt.

“I mean, I can’t imagine anyone not jumping to help them. Especially for a cause like this. Cancer in children, it’s—”

“Zakira, do we have to talk about this now?” Malik suddenly snapped, his stare glinting with frustration. “We’re supposed to be having a good time here.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Malik?” she snapped back, her mahogany brown stare ablaze. “If I remember correctly, you asked me about the charity dinner. You know, your mood lately has gotten progressively worse and I’m tired of it.”

“Zaki—”

“Please,” she stopped him, pushing her chair away from the table, “I already know—you’re sorry. Why don’t we talk when you have a little more to say?” With that, she stomped away from the table.

Malik braced his elbows to the table and clutched fistfuls of his dreads. “Baby, you’ll get your answers as soon as I get mine.”

Chapter 2

Although Badu’s never opened until 3:00 p.m., Malik always arrived at 8:00 a.m. His routine was practically the same each day. Before heading upstairs to his office, he went to the kitchen for a morning meeting with the chefs. The cooking staff of eight arrived even earlier than their boss, despite the fact that ingredients for the day’s menu had already been prepared. The staff never departed without having the necessary supplies for the following business day chopped, chilled and marinated.

Everyone immediately came to attention when they saw Malik. Though the employees of Badu’s admired and respected the forceful young man, they often wished he wasn’t so demanding.

“Just a heads-up. We’re going to be hosting a charity dinner for cancer research a couple weeks before Christmas,” Malik declared at the end of the meeting, already shrugging into the stylish tan suede suit coat he had thrown across a chair. “I should have more specifics soon, but there will be plenty of time for you guys to get prepared.”

The eight chefs exchanged weary looks across the table. They had no problems being on hand for the charity event. It was the time leading up to the dinner they could have done without. Their boss could become more than demanding, he could be almost tyrannical.

“I won’t be working with you on the event, Zakira will,” Malik announced, sensing the chefs’ relief without even looking at their faces.

No one at the table could mask their joy. The boss’s wife would provide a refreshing change from her brooding, unyielding husband.

“It’s not that we dislike working closely with you, you understand?”

Malik grinned. “Sure I do, Jo Jo.” He wasn’t offended.

Malik never apologized for running a tight ship. He felt his people respected him more for it and believed that respect made his restaurant the success that it was.

“So, when is she gonna start coming in, Malik?”

“Well—” Malik began, a smile coming to his face, when he looked toward the rear of the dining room. “Speak of the devil. There she is.”

Zakira was slightly breathless as she hurriedly approached the table. “Sorry guys, I wanted to get here before the end of your meeting. Do y’all have a few minutes?”

“Sure, Zakira!”

“Have a seat, darlin’.”

“Can I get you some coffee?”

Malik rolled his eyes and reclined in his chair as he watched the eight stiff-lipped men fawn over his wife. Of course, he could never blame them. Zakira brought out something bright in each of his employees. He believed they would work round the clock for her if she asked them to.

“I’m fine,” Zakira was assuring the chefs, as she set her maroon cashmere wrap on a vacant chair. “This won’t take long. I just wanted to discuss a couple of things with you all. Did Malik tell you guys about the dinner?” she asked, watching everyone smile and nod.

“Great,” she said, already reaching into the oversized black leather tote she carried.

Malik’s smoldering charcoal-gray stare never strayed from his wife as she discussed menu ideas and timelines with his employees. He admired the ease with which she handled the group of finicky chefs. When they began to discuss the particulars, he stood and took Zakira’s elbow in a light hold.

“I’m gonna head on up to the office, unless you need me to stay,” he said, brushing his hand against the soft clinging cashmere of her pearl gray dress.

Zakira coolly extracted her arm from Malik’s grasp, feeling her entire body tingle scandalously in response to the sweet gesture. “Mmm-mmm,” she replied, with a quick shake of her head. “I’ll be fine.”

He smiled and turned to the table. “Talk to you guys later.” He could feel Zakira’s eyes linger a bit longer than necessary on his departing figure before she forced her eyes back to the page she held.

Before he exited the dining room, he turned to cast one last look at her. The sight of his wife taking an active role in his business pleased him more than she would ever know.

The annoying beep of the intercom pierced the silence of the spacious corner office. Malik slammed his fist against the talk button with such force the machine jumped off the desk.

“What is it, Chanel?” he barked. Reading invoices and recipes, and going over the books for the better part of the morning, had taken a fierce toll on his mood.

“Sorry to bother you, Malik, but Tree’s out here to see you,” Chanel Levy informed her boss.

“Sorry, Chanel. It’s all right. Send him in,” Malik instructed, tossing the paperwork aside as he leaned back in his chair.

A slight frown crossed his dark face when his best friend and lawyer Trekel Grisani walked into the office. “What’s wrong?” Malik asked the moment the door closed.

Tree’s long black lashes closed over his dark eyes as he shook his head. “Everything’s fine, man,” he assured his friend.

Malik visibly relaxed and leaned back a little further in the brown leather chair. “So what’s up? I don’t usually get visits from lawyers in the middle of the day.”

Tree grinned, lowering his massive frame into one of the chairs before the wide desk. “You got a problem with me coming by?”

Malik shrugged. “Nah. You want me to have somethin’ sent up from the kitchen?”

Tree waved his hand and grimaced. “Thanks, I’m cool.” He propped the side of his face against his palm and waited. When Malik remained silent, he sighed. “I think we’ve done enough small talk, man.”

Malik’s heavy brows drew close. “Small talk?” he repeated, purposely misunderstanding.

Tree expelled a frustrated sigh and leaned forward. “Man, will you please give it up? Have you heard anything from Doctor McNeil?”

At Tree’s mention of the doctor’s name, Malik instantly tensed. “I only saw him two days ago,” he murmured, his deep voice raspy with aggravation.

Tree pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat. “All right, so it’s been two days. Shouldn’t they have the results from your tests by now?”

Malik pounded his fist against his thigh. “I doubt it.” He sighed.

“I don’t understand why it’s taking so long,” Tree complained.

In spite of his foul mood, Malik managed to laugh. “We are talkin’ about cancer here, man. I think Doctor McNeil wants to be sure when he tells me I’m about to die.”

Tree realized how unnerving the situation was for his friend. He suddenly regretted having mentioned anything about the tests. “I think you’re overreacting now, Mal.”

“I’m not so sure after what happened,” Malik admitted, shaking his head.

Tree’s long brows drew together as a frown further darkened his extremely handsome face. “What happened with what?”

Malik rubbed one hand through his dreads and stared out the office window that overlooked downtown Richmond. “Zakira’s been having a dream for the last few weeks. She finally told me that all she can see is a man laid out in black, surrounded by candles.”

Tree’s brows rose expectantly. “And?”

Malik turned and shot Tree a murderous glare. “Hell, man, that could be me laid out dead.”

A smile brightened Tree’s handsome face. “Man, I think you’re letting this get to you too much.”

Malik turned back to the windows and braced his hands on the dark paneled sill. “We both know that could be me. The only thing missing is the casket.”

“Mal,” Tree cautioned, but even he found it somewhat unsettling.

A few days later, Zakira opened the door and her smile widened at the sight of her stepsister. “Cold?” she teased the woman standing there with her arms wrapped around her slender form, shivering.

Edwina Harris rolled her almond-shaped eyes to the overcast sky before she rushed past Zakira and hurried into the living room where there was a fireplace.

“Dammit, Z,” she groaned, stomping one stylish, hiking boot shod foot to the carpet. “Why haven’t you made a fire yet, girl?”