Simmer

Karma

February 28, 2009

This was Devon's finest moment, and her feet hurt like hell.

She didn't care who was in the restaurant.

Devon hiked up her calf-length, hip-hugging, black dress, then grabbed the back of the stool to keep her balance before slipping off her black high heels.

She pulled her dress neatly over the thick hips, then inhaled as she touched her stomach. She rolled her eyes. She had to find time to work out.

After nine years, she couldn't blame Clifton for her stomach fat.

She pulled out the bobby pins that were keeping her hair in a neat bun.

Fuck, I need a perm.

Her hair relaxed a little but stayed bunched up in the center of her head. She ran her fingers through her thick, jet-black hair to pull it to her shoulders.

Her cousin, Neville, called her name.

The upscale soul food restaurant was dim.

The décor was silver and black. The silver lines on the tables and back of the chairs made it look like one of those safety reflectors on a bicycle because of the dim light.

The last customer had left two hours ago.

The grand opening had been a smash.

Finally, Devon achieved her dream of expanding her grandfather's restaurant.

Devon smiled.

She knew Grandpa Shack would be proud.

Soul food lovers deserve to patronize an elegant, five-star restaurant instead of a hole-in-the-wall dive.

Unfortunately, the concept wasn't her idea.

Jacob had often discussed it when he worked at Shack's.

Devon placed her stamp on the brand, though.

"Devon!"

She walked past the closed kitchen through the bright, narrow hallway. The closer she walked to her office, the more she could hear Neville's music.

It was "Heartless" by Kanye West.

Man, I love that song.

Neville was usually so quiet that no one knew he was in the room.

Devon pumped her fist in the air.

The grand opening must have been better than she'd expected.

Devon's stomach hit the floor when she thought about her family.

They were tough to please.

More specifically, her mother, Uncle Bob, Neville, and a few other cousins had taken control of the restaurant business shortly before Grandpa Shack's death. That was why she worked twice as hard to prove she was the right person for the job.

She shoved the negative thoughts aside. This night was too perfect for letting doubt intrude.

He called her again.

"I'm coming!"

In her office, Neville sat at her desk.

Devon and Neville had nothing in common except their genes.

Maybe if he had been a female, Devon would be jealous of his light complexion, narrow nose, and light brown eyes.

Devon couldn't lie.

She didn't have a problem with her pudgy nose.

However, she'd do anything to achieve his slender frame. The man could eat all day and not gain a pound, while she could look at food and gain at least fifteen pounds.

She hadn't been able to do that since she was twenty.

He counted the night's returns like he was a dealer in a poker game. He didn't look at her or move from her desk. Instead, he said, "We need to talk to you."

Devon glanced around her office. It hadn't changed. It was all white and plain. They were alone. Before she could say anything, Neville clicked the intercom button on her phone.

She bit the inside of her lip.

Her tremendous high had turned into fear of the unknown.

"What's wrong?" Devon asked. "Was the opening night not good enough?"

Neville and the caller, who she quickly realized was the restaurant's lawyer, talked over each other above the loud music. She interrupted them, but Neville had gained control of the conversation.

"Tonight was great." Neville picked up the credit card receipts like it was show-and-tell.

"Then what's wrong?"

Neville grinned at Devon.

She squinted.

He took time to mouth the lyrics of a rap song. Neville chuckled, then said, "You've done great with Grandpa Shack's restaurants, no matter what. You've done better than someone with a bachelor's degree in the field."

Devon swallowed hard. "But?"

Neville shrugged. "You remember what Grandpa Shack used to say at the end of every February?"

Devon relaxed, and she warmly smiled. She nodded.

"It's time to put February in your back pocket and March on. Devon chuckled, then asked, "Why?"

"You're fired." Neville grinned at her.