Page 110 of Tarek

“Great. Monday would be fine.” I reply. Tarek name blinks on the top of my car dashboard screen.

“Mr. Douglas, I have to go,” I say quickly.

“There is beauty in a busy woman. Consider my offer.” Before I could say goodbye the phone hangs up and it connects to Tarek’s call.

“Hello?”

“Treasure, where are you?” Tarek asks. I have grown accustomed to his possessive tone. In fact, it’s nearly comforting.

“I am about to park and give Josh my keys,” I park in front of The Glass House.

“Okay see you inside.” The phone hangs up.

It doesn’t take me long to exit the car.

“Good night Ms. Pen.” Josh takes my keys from my hand.

“Hi Josh. How was the IT exam? Did my notes help?”

A broad smile graces his face. “I passed. I got an A.”

I slap his shoulders. “Look at my boy. What’s next?”

Josh face reddens. “Coding and software application.”

“You’re always welcome to the Asylum for an internship.”

Josh fist pumps in the air. “Thanks, Ms. Pen.”

“You’re welcome. Now let me get inside.” I tap his shoulder softly.

Skipping up the stairs, the glass doors open, and I exhale because The Glass House still takes my breath away.

Janaka and another waitress place the chairs upside down on the tables.

“Hey, Jan? Did everything work out?” I pause, watching the other waitress move away.

Janaka’s hair is pulled into a ponytail, not a single strand out of place. Her caramel skin shines against her crisp white shirt. I don’t know how she stays this neat after all the hours of working.

“I swear you can never leave Mr. T. I got the whole week off and he even said I could have it with pay.”

Janaka’s joy is contagious. “Well, enjoy your vacation. You deserve it. Talk to you later.”

Janaka gives me a small wave and turns over her last chair. “Good night.”

The silver door gives way as soon as I press my palm against it and push.

“It’s missing something, Marco,” Tarek says. He is leaning on the stainless-steel table, loosely waving a fork.

“Maybe we should add dill,” Marco says.

I walk behind Tarek; he is so engrossed with the tasting he doesn’t realize that I am behind him.

“No, it needs salt. For sure,” I add.

Tarek turns around, and his face goes from serious to happy. His hands go around my waist, and he kisses me on my forehead. “Hey Treasure.”

“Hey. What’s going on?” I look at a white plate with beautiful, seared beef on potatoes.

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