A Private Affair - A.C. Arthur Page 0,24
launch of his new app. He hadn’t thought he’d want to see her as badly as he did.
“Relax. We’re having a meal. There’s nobody here to see us and run back to tell the world. It’s just you, me and the steak I can’t wait to taste.” It really was that simple. Chaz frowned as he thought about how many times he’d wanted to pick up the phone and call her or even send an email or text in the last week but hadn’t done so because he’d known she would have this exact reaction.
They were consenting adults keeping in touch with each other—that should not have been a problem.
“You know what the tabloids would say. Not to mention our family.”
“Stop.”
The single word came out much stronger than he anticipated, but the quick close of her lips and the second of shock that flashed in her eyes was exactly the response he wanted.
“I’ve said this before and I’d really like not to repeat it again. That feud is between my uncle and your father. It’s ridiculous that you and I, or your brothers and I, or any of us for that matter, would carry it on like a torch to be passed through the generations.”
She opened her mouth to speak but Chaz held up a hand, stopping her. “I wanted to see you, Riley. I wanted to talk to you again. To spend some quiet time with you after a really long week. That’s all.”
Instead of replying she removed her napkin from the plate, opened it and placed it on her lap. Neither of them spoke for a few moments. Chaz figured she needed the time to gather her thoughts. She had two choices: get up and leave, or sit here and deal with the dinner and conversation. He was positive she would opt for the latter since he knew she’d had his driver take her home to change clothes before coming. No way would she have gone through all that if she didn’t want to see him, too.
As the music played in the background Chaz thought he saw her moving her head to a familiar song.
“You know Nancy Wilson?” It wasn’t like the musician was playing popular music. Chaz had requested jazz because it soothed him.
“My mother has all her albums in plastic on a shelf in her sitting room. Just a few years ago she finally agreed to stop playing them and let Major have the songs digitally remastered and added to a playlist for her. Now if she’s not working, she has her headphones in while she sings along to Sister Nancy. That’s what she’s called her since I can remember, as if they were long-lost friends.”
A soft smile covered her face and the leeriness Chaz had about her not relaxing enough to enjoy this dinner dissipated. It was obvious she loved her mother dearly. Just speaking about her had brought an air of contentment around her that Chaz didn’t see often enough.
“Both my parents liked jazz. I remember it playing in our house all the time. When I came to live with my uncle, I didn’t hear it as much. He was more of an R & B kind of guy. But when I got my first MP3 player, I downloaded every jazz song I could find.” He still remembered how excited he’d been to see the songs on his playlist. For days that was all he’d done—lie in his bed and listen to the music because it made him feel closer to his parents even though he knew they were never coming back.
“Your parents died when you were young, right?”
“Nine.” He’d been young and scared to death of what would happen after the social worker and the police officer arrived at his house to tell him and his babysitter that his parents’ car was hit head-on by a drunk driver.
“I’m sure that was tough. But your uncle took you in and you seem to have turned out well.”
He chuckled. “Gee, thanks.”
She waved a hand. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, my uncle and his wife, Arlene—she was number four—they came to pick me up from the neighbor who had let me stay there temporarily so I wouldn’t have to go into foster care.” Saying those words after twenty-four years seemed odd.
“Wait, his wife’s name is... Veronica. Right? She loves fur.” She reached for her glass and Chaz watched her slim fingers grip the stem.
“Veronica is number eight, and yes, she loves fur. It’s all over the