“You are correct,” I reply.
“I know you’re busy, but I would find great pleasure if you would grace me with your presence for dinner.”
I jump off my couch. I press mute on my cell as I dance around the room.
“Hello?”
Shit, he is still on the phone. “Where is this dinner?”
“At GH. I am having a tasting for a new hotel in the Caribbean name Helios, and I was wondering if you can be my second taster.”
The clock on the wall shows me that it’s now 7:45 p.m. “What time are you looking at?”
“Um, maybe in an hour or so?”
I could be there in ten minutes if he asked me too. Sprinting to the closet, I begin to search for an outfit.
“Penelope?”
“Yes. I was just thinking about my schedule. It can’t be late like last night,”
“No. We are eating in the back kitchen. So, no need to dress up.”
I didn’t like how he said that. “How are you dressed?”
“Usual black shirt and pants. Unimpressive…unless you think that it is?”
“What did you say?” I ask, my hands pause on a t-shirt dress.
“Nothing. When you arrive text me and I will come out for you,” He states.
“See you in an hour.”
It really does take me an hour to get dressed. I didn’t want him to think that I was trying too hard. Also, it’s The Glasshouse, I didn’t want to look under dressed. The mountain of clothes that I left behind on my bed tells a story of indecision and insecurity. Don’t get me wrong I know I’m beautiful, it’s just I have some tiny insecurities like my fupa or the roll that is sitting right under my arm, or my tiger stripes.
However, I stuffed all of my negative thoughts in a box and opted to go with the jumpsuit. Now I am stepping up the Glass House stairs wearing a strapless beige jumpsuit. Last night I didn’t get to show off my curves, a work T-shirt and jeans doesn’t scream sexy. Tonight, though, this simple jumpsuit is hugging every curve (with the help of my SPANX) and it’s extending down to my feet with a flair at the ankle. My locs I have gathered into a side part and a bun. Light makeup, I add a small brown handbag and gold accessories.
As the glass door swipes open, I stand behind a couple as they are confirming their reservation with the host.
I take out my phone and text Tarek,I am here where are you?
“Good evening. Welcome to the Glass House. Do you have a reservation with us tonight? Or are you confused as regards to which restaurant this is?” The hostess smiles widens as she blinks her eye rapidly at me.
“No, I don’t, and no, I am not confused.” Before I can utter a word, she jumps in.
“I’m afraid we are fully booked at the moment, but we can add you to our waitlist. The current wait list time is approximately two months.” She flicks her screen and smiles. “I do have some places that I can recommend to you.”
Her snide tone is making me itch, I close my eyes for two seconds to gather my thoughts. “Can you please call Tarek Fairisles? He is expecting me.”
The hostess chuckles behind her hand. She lifts the phone and speaks into it,
“Mr. Marco there is a lady here to see Mr. Fairisles. No sir, she doesn’t. Okay.”
With a smirk she puts the phone down. “It seems that Mr. Fairisles is indisposed. Now I can suggest some restaurants for you. How about Mc Donalds or the Popeye’s down the street?”
I begin to dial Tarek’s number, and it goes straight to voicemail.
“Have a great night, now can you go. Good night,” the host flicks her hands at me.