“The pleasure is all mine. I love the rich atmosphere in here. And the gift concept is so culturally forward. At this rate I’m sure I don’t have to, but for formality sake, I wish you much success!” I smiled and gave a soft nod.
“I appreciate that…really!” Mark smiled wildly and with glinted eyes.
“Wow, Jacobs! This one is a keeper!” Eric chimed in. Azmir smiled very clandestinely. Always so composed.
Eric had warm brown skin and was slightly taller than Mark. He wore small glasses but with thick lenses. He smiled a lot but didn’t appear as happy with his companion. Their body language told it all. As the guys did a little small talk, I observed. All throughout the time they were at the table Eric’s wife kept looking away, somewhere far off in the distance and rubbing the back of her neck. She tried to offer a laugh at obvious points in the conversation but it was nothing genuine. The guys were really comical. I could tell they had quite a history and great chemistry by the jokes that were thrown.
These guys were totally different from the ones in ‘The Clan’. They were more refined, obviously educated, and better socialized. This Azmir is growing more intriguing each date. Mark asked what we were drinking and we told him before they said their goodbyes and moved about the party.
As I adjusted into my seat at the booth I said, “Nice friends.”
“Yup, they’re good peoples.” Azmir chuckled still feeling the residue of amusement from his friends. I could tell there was silent communication going on while they were here. I didn’t care to ask.
“So where do you know them from?”
“Stanford.”
“Oh, you use to live there, too?”
“Yup, when I went to school there.”
“Oh, you went to Stanford?”
“Does that surprise you?” he snorted with raised eyebrows.
“You surprise me, Azmir.” It felt good to get that out. Azmir was the most enigmatic individual I’d ever encountered. Very beguiling.
“We don’t want that. How can I be less ambiguous?” He flashed a knowing smirk as he sat up and straightened his back, visually opening himself up for conversation. By this time, the waiter brought my pinot noir and his cognac. We ordered our food and I waited for her to leave to continue, pissed at her lascivious gaping at Azmir. I mean, really?
“You’re an anomaly, Azmir…from the way you speak when you go from broken hood idiom to corporate articulation. The way you dress in your Ermenegildo Zegna pinstriped suits by day and True Religion jeans at night. You pop sunflower seeds and eat grape Now&Laters but you send me an extensive Louis Vuitton luggage collection. You own a Range Rover and a Bentley…with a driver. Let’s not forget that you not only own but frequent a club in Compton and a high-end club on Sunset Boulevard. I’m afraid to find out where you live…” I said animatedly. There, I got it out.
“You should be able to appreciate my variability considering you play the same game,” he said before taking a long sip of his drink.
“What do you mean?” I was so thrown.
“I met you presenting a leasing proposal, representing one of the largest physical therapy firms in Southern California. This same woman with intelligence, drive, and charisma was ready to tear down a hood-boogie and sliced up a Latino gang-banger. Not to mention how comfortable you are around people of that urban facet. I saw you with Chanell…and you can’t get more ghetto than that.” He was right, Chanell was as ghetto as they come.
“Really, Azmir…tell me something and be honest. What are your intentions with me?” I knew what we’d spoken about in Mexico but it left me confused with subsequent questions. Why would he want me to request to sleep with him? Did he not want to sleep with me? That would be ridiculous seeing that he kept pursuing me.
He had just taken a sip of his drink when his head cocked back slightly and he flashed a coochie creaming smile without teeth and then he swallowed. It was clear that my question had caught him by surprise.