Brett looked up and Shayna, who sat across from Brett at the table that seated four, turned around to see what caught the guys’ attention. A wave of relief settled upon me seeing that this wasn’t an intimate meeting between Azmir and Dawn Taylor.
I stood, smiling softly while clasping my clutch in front of my pelvic area. I didn’t know my next move. The perpetrator was nowhere in sight. Obscurity had descending over me. This so wasn’t what I’d expected to walk into.
“Hi, Rayna!” Brett sang with gleam in his eyes, furthering my guilt.
He appeared genuinely happy to see me while I, on the other hand, was on a Destroy Dawn mission. I often wondered about Brett’s thoughts of Azmir and me. He knew so many personal details of our relationship because he was usually the one arranging them.
“Afternoon, Brett,” I greeted softly.
“Wow! I see that you’re feeling better. You look great,” Brett observed, without making the words sound inappropriate. I took it as though he appreciated my efforts. Now, let’s see if Azmir does, too.
“Thanks, Brett. I’m feeling much better. I’ve had wonderful medical attention.”
I vaguely flirted with Azmir, who I had now locked eyes with. He had been gaping at me the whole time, now it was my turn to return the attention.
“I was coming to show my gratitude by surprising a special someone for a lunch outing, but I see he’s indisposed.”
My eyes never left Azmir’s as our gazes danced with each other in search of answers; mine of his meeting with Dawn and Shayna, and his of me leaving my sick bed for a surprise visit. I then noticed Azmir’s eyes slowly transitioning past me. Instinctively, I turned, only to find Dawn standing there, sharing a similar reaction to my company as the rest of the party.
We locked eyes for what seemed like minutes. I even shifted in stance, hoping to grant her a better view of my person, silently communicating marked territory until I heard Azmir calmly chime in, “Ms. Brimm, you remember Dawn Taylor, don’t you?”
With a slight squinting of my eyes and wrinkling of my forehead—that should have garnered an Emmy—I finally say, “Vegas?”
Knowing full well I’d just encountered her only three short days ago. I didn’t care, I was playing hardball. I was still confused by my drive to do so with Dawn Taylor, but I certainly acted conscious-free as I continued to peer straight into her masking eyes.
“Rag and Bone,” she acknowledged approvingly, referring to the designer of my blazer.
Oh! So you are about your diva!
“Pigalle 120s,” I replied, referencing her Louboutin patent leather pumps as if I didn’t start wearing the designer in recent months when Azmir flooded my closet with them.
I knew those because I had them in leather and made a mental note that if I’d ever wore patent leather shoes they would have to be LouBou’s. They went well with her form fitted, plaid midi dress. Her hair was in the bouncy curls I’d seen in Las Vegas, framing her ebony face. She looked good!
She didn’t greet me beyond that, and just like in Vegas, I followed suit, turning my attention back to Azmir who’s eyes were alert, but his expression was otherwise inscrutable. He just sat there with his elbows resting on the table and hands clasped together near his chin, calmed and self-possessed. Always.
“Did I miss something while in the restroom?” Dawn asked in a slick manner.
The smirk she wore as she took her seat back at the table—directly across from Amir! So that you can get a clear view, huhn!—confirmed my feelings regarding her mask. She flashed a cunning smile over to Shayna who, for some strange reason, I could tell didn’t share Dawn’s sinister persona.
“Oh…oh, nothing at all. We basically reiterated the cons of the proposal and agreed on the need of a follow-up date for answers and solutions,” Shayna shakily mumbled to Dawn. Brett obliviously nodded his head.