I melted. “Yes, Redondo Beach. I’ll get my purse,” I choked out quickly before turning on my heels. I was busted!
In the car, my nerves were still poignant. The smell of Azmir and his car was a heady mix. I still hadn’t gotten comfortable with being chauffeured but I took it all in stride. This was Azmir’s world and I was giving it a try.
“You look really nice, Ms. Brimm,” Azmir asserted in the most sincere tone that I had ever heard from a man. It didn’t have the ‘damn you sexy’ or ‘I can’t wait to get in them draws’ kind of ring to it. With a girlish blush, I thanked him. I couldn’t believe he’d had such an effect on me.
“You don’t look too bad yourself, Azmir,” I returned. He damn sure didn’t.
“So when were you going to tell me about your new house?” His tone was different.
He lost the authoritative edge and asked in such a na?ve tone. I felt horrible and somehow immediately recalled what Michelle had told me earlier before responding.
“Actually this evening!” I tried to sound convincing. “I wanted to thank you once again for the referral. Bobby Scott was very efficient and professional. He handled my hunt expeditiously.”
“Really? When are you going to invite me over…when you have your housewarming?” His eyebrows were lifted and I didn’t know if he was goading me for more information or sincerely wanted to know.
“No, Mr. Jacobs. I think you’re entitled to a private tour,” I bashfully teased. I was grateful for the rebound.
“That’s what’s up,” he said revealing his brilliant smile. The ride over was peaceful and my nervousness had dissipated.
The jazz club was in Venice Beach and it was designed for a mature and sophisticated crowd, similar to Cobalt but a little more ethnic. It’s not that I didn’t like Azmir’s club in Compton but this was a nice change of pace. It had a marquee that read, “Tonight Raheem DeVaughn to Celebrate the Reopening of Mahogany”. There was even a red carpet event. Once again, we jumped the line to get in. That made me feel a little uncomfortable because this wasn’t Azmir’s club. A few of the women in that line looked a little salty about that, too.
Once we arrived at the door, a brown skinned fellow with a neatly shaped curly afro announced, “Mr. Jacobs?”
Azmir nodded in agreement.
“Mr. Richardson has your table ready for you. This way, please.” The host gestured and led the way.
The sound was marvelous. I recognized the music. It was Raheem on the stage doing his thing. He was a lot shorter than I imagined, but extremely talented even live. I had several of his albums and Michelle was a huge fan.
We were seated a bit off the dance floor garnering us privacy, but in great view of the stage. There were menus with our names on them set in the place settings. But what was most impressive were the two small African musical instruments that were placed there on the table for us. For Azmir there was a drum from Ghana called Udus. It looked more like a pot. There was a small card with the name, description, and instructions for use. My gift was Ghana cluster bells. That idea was so refreshing and full of substance. This place definitely had character. A few minutes after our arrival a small group of people came over to our table. Azmir introduced me and they introduced themselves.
“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Rayna,” Mark said to me before turning to Azmir. “I thought Rayna was the fox in your dreams, Jacobs!” he snorted and jabbed Azmir in the abdomen.
Mark was light skinned, a little chunky with beautiful thick dark curly hair. He had long sideburns and a light goatee. He wore a dark suit with a white shirt and no tie. His date had long blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes. She draped on his arms quite comfortably. He beamed and seemed really bubbly and social.