Did I sound like the proverbial understanding girlfriend or what! I wanted to see him on Friday—no, scratch that—I needed to see him on Friday!
“No, I need to see you this weekend,” he muttered, quickly dismissing my offer and sounding more like he was thinking out loud than he was talking directly to me. I was happy he felt the same. “I’ll be on a plane on Monday and away for almost another week again.” There was a pregnant pause before he spoke again. “Would you mind hoping on a plane Friday when you get off and meeting me in Vegas? I’ll have Brett book your flight and arrange for car service to the hotel. I won’t arrive until Friday night because we have a meeting scheduled here first thing that morning.”
“Errrr...” Wow! Talk about a turn of events.
“I'll have you home at a decent enough hour on Saturday so that you can be ready for church on Sunday morning...” he pleaded. I could tell he was earnest in his offer.
This was a tall order. “Mr. Jacobs, the expense for me to get ready for this party... As it stands, this week I would have paid my monthly expenses, my mortgage...”
“Did you spend the money that I had deposited last month? If so, I’ll have funds deposited into your account by lunch tomorrow. Please. I’d really like to see you, Brimm.” Okay now I hear desperation.
I had totally forgotten about the money he had put into my account. “Ughhhh...you know how I feel about—”
He cut me off again. “You just committed to not fighting me when I treat you to things. This would really be for me. I’ve screwed up my dates and am now inconveniencing you. Please cut me some slack and have peace about this,” he seared me using my recent spiritual commitment against me. I sighed in concession.
“Okaaaaaaaaay,” I sang softly in the phone sounding of defeat.
“Indeed,” he breathed in his Brooklyn twang.
I heard a feminine voice in the background saying something to him.
“Ms. Taylor,” rolled familiarly off his tongue, similar to the flirtatious manner he’d say my last name.
She must have walked up on him because I clearly heard her say, “Mr. Jacobs...our table is ready. The host is calling for us,” so velvety with a hint of seduction almost.
Something wasn’t right. I didn’t like the cordialness in their voices.
“Alright. I have to go, Brimm. Brett will contact you with your travel info.”
“O-okay,” I uttered with somewhat of a cracked voice. I was still trying to wrap my head around the cozy exchange he’d just had with this mysterious Ms. Taylor.
“Aye...” he called out, snatching my attention. “I expect you to fully expend the amount necessary to make you feel as good as you look. If you need more just let me know...though I doubt you would be so liberal,” he was a bit mocking with his last few words.
He knew I wouldn’t ask him for more money. There was no ensemble that I could think of that would exceed an eighth of the astronomical amount he’d shoved into my account.
“Azmir...you know this is all new to me. Give me some time,” I exhaled, frustrated and now feeling a headache coming on from hearing their suspect exchange and anticipating spending his money.
“Indeed. I’ll call you after your class.”
We ended our chat there. As much as I wanted to ponder my feelings over what I’d just heard, Azmir’s knowledge of my evening schedule without me informing him pushed those contravening thoughts to the back of my mind. But they didn’t evaporate. Instead, I sat there trying to map out a plan of preparation for my time in Vegas. Coincidentally, it would be my first visit. I wanted to look the part and make Azmir proud to have me as his arm candy. I finished my reports and made a call to Adrian for an emergency hair appointment.