Page 88 of Truce Of The Matter

“God, I love you.”

“And you know I love you.” Lovingly, I kiss her lips then stand. “Let me go get Aryel out of the theatre room and you stay out of the kitchen.”

“No. You stay. Sit down and I’ll go get Aryel.”

She stands then inches up to peck my lips before leaving me in the family room. When she disappears around the corner, I trek to the bar.Maybe a drink will help Truce.I’m no bartenderbut I’ve figured out how to make her Sidecar drink so I mix her up one and pour myself a small shot of my Hennessy Paradis. As I down it, my doorbell chimes. It has to be Daija. Her name was given to security this morning.

When I make it to the door, Truce and Aryel are on the staircase, walking down. Excitedly, Aryel increases her speed and Truce is right behind her. As soon as they are by my side, I open the door. A replica of Truce stands on the other side holding a small candy bouquet. I’ve seen pictures of Daija and saw the resemblance, but in person, it’s crazy. She has her mother’s entire face.

Truce steps over to her, grabs the bouquet, hands it to me, then hugs Daija. While they hug, Aryel’s eyes never leave the candy. It’s filled with the fruity and sour candy she likes.

“Rex, this is my Daija,” Truce begins and Daija steps to me and gives me a light hug.

“Nice to meet you,” she says.

“Glad to finally meet you too and thanks for this.”

“You’re welcome but I brought that for the princess. I was told one lives here,” she says and Aryel’s entire face lights up. Daija leans in a little. “You must be Princess Aryel. I’m Daija.”

“Hi, Miss Daija.”

“Oh no. Just Daija.”

“Okay. Thanks for my candy.” Aryel glances up to me. “Can I eat a piece, Daddy?”

“After we eat,” I assure her.

“You hungry?” Truce asks as we journey to the dining room.

“Starving. I saved room for Porsha’s cooking. Is she still here?”

“Yes. In the kitchen. I’ll take you.” Before detouring and heading to the kitchen, Truce reaches for the bouquet.

“I’ll carry it,” Aryel says, dying to get her hands on it.

Truce gives the bouquet to Aryel and the three of them walk to the kitchen. I continue into the dining room, stopping at the bar for Truce’s drink. I’m only in the dining room alone for about ten minutes when the beauties walk in followed by the chef and her team. The two have platters in their hands but the chef’s hands are empty. Once Truce, Daija, and Aryel are seated, our dining experience begins.

“Thank you so much for booking Diablo’s Steakhouse for your private dining experience. I’m Chef Porsha and tonight I’m taking you on a Caribbean experience with four delicious courses for your dining pleasure.” The two servers place small plates in front of each of us and it looks good, like a pastry with a dipping sauce. “This first course is a jerk chicken empanada. The spice level is mild for our tender palate but you can control your spice level with the sauce. Bon appetit!” Porsha does a quick nod then the three of them leave.

“This smells so good. Let’s say grace first though,” Truce says then nods for me to pray. We all bow our heads and I quickly bless the food.

“My girl can really cook so this is going to be good,” Daija assures. My dining table seats six and no one is sitting at either end. Truce is beside me and Daija and Aryel are across from us, seated beside each other. Daija lifts the sauce then dips her fork in it to taste. “The sauce is hot, real hot. I’m not going to use mine,” she tells Aryel with a smile.

“Me either,” Aryel says, quickly following Daija’s lead.

She actually copies everything Daija does. While I drown my empanada with the sauce and lift it to bite it, Aryel cuts the delicate dough with her fork just like Daija. She really enjoys being in the presence of women.

“Do you like it?” Truce asks her.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s good.”

“The sauce is spicy but I like spice. Baby, do you like…” she begins then looks at my empty plate. “I guess you did,” she finishes with a titter and both Aryel and Daija laugh.

“I’m sure there’s more. They can bring you another one,” Daija says.

“I could definitely eat about two more but I’m straight. I’m waiting to see what’s next,” I admit. If I need to circle back on the empanadas, I will. With these private dinners, there’s always leftovers. So while I wait on the second course, I decide to fix myself another drink. “I’m going to the bar. You drink, Daija?”

“Yes. You got some Patrón?” she asks and Truce’s eyes stretch.

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