Desire Page 2

  I leaned over to the passenger side. Shouting out the window, I called, “You need a ride home?”

  “Nope!”

  “Are you sure? I’ll be just resting; I don’t have anything planned,” I offered, trying to be nice.

  “Well, you should have something planned. How about working on pronouncing the letter “t.” And no, I don’t need a ride. Goodbye, Jamir.”

  I shouldn’t have been thinking about looking out for her anyway, especially after how rude she’d been to me. The fact that she made a sarcastic remark about my accent let me know she was stuck-up and boogie. Just what I didn’t need in my life.

  Shaking my head, I watched her take a few steps toward the sidewalk. Those thick hips swishing side to side and that ass bouncing up and down, one cheek at a time, made me forgive her for calling me the wrong name.

  “All right, well, if you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure. Oh, and by the way, don’t quit your day job. You’d make a lousy psychologist.”

  “A’ight. Bye, Felicia!” I called after her and pulled off.

  Glancing in my rearview mirror, I saw her staring after me with her hands on those luscious hips and her mouth wide open. I mumbled under my breath, “Nice! But damn she’s got a fucked up attitude.”

  CHAPTER 3 – KARINA

  “I said I was open to suggestions, Bernard. I didn’t say I was giving my damned show away!” I hissed through clenched teeth.

  Bernard was my branding manager and assistant. He took care of the things I didn’t have time to, or I just wasn’t that great at.

  “Look, it’s what these guys want. And they’re not asking you to give away your show. You’re doing a good job of making money from your subscribers, and YouTube ads, but these men are offering you a slot on their cable channel, KK. We’re not talking about little YouTube money anymore. You could become the next Paula Deen,” he said.

  “God forbid,” I countered.

  “Or Cat Cora, Rachel Ray, or Carla Hall,” Bernard said.

  “How about the next Karina Kendricks, because that’s who I am, and that’s the only person I’m aiming to be. That’s good enough for me, and if it isn’t for you or these guys then they can take their money and walk, and you know what you can—”

  “Bernard, Karina, have you had enough time to consider our offer?” A tall, grey-haired gentleman with beady blue eyes asked as he stepped in the door, accompanied by two other men.

  “There’s nothing to consider,” I said, turning my fiery gaze on the group of men.

  Based on the redness in their faces and how they instantly turned to Bernard, I could tell that they were taken aback.

  “Gentlemen, the terms of the agreement are acceptable—” he began, just before I cut a sharp look his way.

  “But?” Fred Danner, the CFO of The Cooking Network, prompted, as they took their seats around the table.

  “But, we don’t think that having a sous chef is a necessity. Not for the show, she’s doing, and it doesn’t align with her brand. Everything that she’s built her brand on is about simplifying cooking with everyday ingredients or making exquisite cuisines simple. Hence her show’s name, Simply Divine.”

  “With the direction that we would like to take this show in, I think that the sous chef will be critical. It’s almost impossible to prepare and cook the meals that she’ll be tackling in the time limit she’s given on her own. That’s just not feasible,” Bill Cord said, removing his glasses and cleaning them with a handkerchief.

  He was the marketing director and the one who had first contacted me about the possibility of a show. Or rather he’d reached out to Bernard, who filtered all communications before passing them on to me.

  “It sounds to me as if you all are trying to eliminate my show and create something of your own, using my name, my face, my brand, and my hard work,” I said, slowly scanning the faces on the opposite side of the table from me.

  Harry Owens flinched slightly and refused to meet my gaze. He was the production director for the network.

  “Well, we did kind of think about revamping the show somewhat,” Bill said. “It’ll draw in a more diverse audience.”

  “Okay, if you’re talking about revamping my show, why are we even having this discussion? Are you sure that I’m the person that you want for this? Because it seems as if you have a problem with everything I’ve done. First, the name of the show, then the catchy slogan, then some of the foods I prepare, and now you’re insisting that I add another body to my show. Are you sure that you don’t want just to give this person a show of their own?” I challenged, looking around the table.

  Bernard placed a hand on mine. “Karina, now calm down. I don’t think that’s what these gentlemen are trying to do.”

  “Oh, so you’re opposed to my brand, too?” I asked, removing my hand from underneath his.

  “Nothing could be further from the truth, Karina,” Bernard said, stretching his eyes at me.

  I knew he was pleading with me to calm down. He had emphasized how important it was for us always to look as if we were on the same page. That’s the only way we would win and keep the upper hand. But that wasn’t what I was feeling at the moment.

  “Karina, there’s no one we would rather have more than you,” Bill stated, placing his glasses back on his face.

  “So, then why all of the changes? What is it that I have that you don’t have?”

  That question caused everyone to shift uncomfortably in their seats.

  Nodding my head, I replied, “Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

  “What, Karina?” Harry asked in a manner that said he was tired, and the meeting was becoming tedious.

  “I’ve tapped into a diverse market that you all don’t have access to yet. I’ve done the requisite groundwork in growing my following. I have three-point eight million YouTube subscribers, 71 thousand Twitter followers, and 62 thousand Facebook followers. I have a large black following that you want to attract but haven’t figured out how to yet. We both know that more than 50 percent of spending in the market is created by black consumers, who also contribute roughly one trillion dollars in buying power. However, we’re only fourteen percent of the American population. So, I get why you want me. But what I don’t get is why you think I’m just giving over my hard work to you like that,” I said.

  Fred glanced around at the group and cleared his throat before looking at me. “Look, the truth is you’re right. But you’re still not on Instagram. You’ve left money on the table needlessly.”

  “I don’t need to be on Instagram. My people are on Facebook, YouTube, and Twitter.”

  He sighed. “That may be true, but there are even more on Instagram, and you would do well to serve that audience. But what you don’t have is the advertising dollars behind you that we have, nor...the marketing knowledge,” Fred said, casting a glance at Bernard.

  I sat back in my chair because that’s what attracted me to their offer in the first place. They had the advertising dollars and the ability to take my show to a global scale, reaching a larger audience than the one that I focused on.

  Shaking my head, I leaned forward and rested my elbows on the table.

  Interlacing my fingers together, I propped my chin on top and said, “I’d be a fool to hand my business over to you all. I want complete creative control, no sous chef, and you can change the slogan, logo, and graphics. But I retain my name. I’m not budging on that one.

  “What was that shit show back there?” Bernard asked, huffing to catch up with me as I scurried out of the building.

  I’d already ordered an Uber declining Bernard’s offer of a ride before the meeting began when he learned my car was down.

  “That shit show back there was me saving my ass and salvaging the last bit of respect that I had since you weren’t interested in doing your job. It seems to be the only thing you saw was dollar signs, and your loyalty to me flew right out the window.”

  “That’s a lie, Karina, and you know it!
I was looking out for your best interest,” he pleaded.

  “No, the hell you weren’t. You were looking out for yours, Bernard. You were ready to give them everything they asked for on a platter.”

  “And you snatched everything back. Now, what do you have?”

  “My pride and dignity.”

  “You’ll be lucky if they even think of shooting you an email, let alone calling you back after that fiasco,” Bernard hissed.

  I glanced at my phone and checked the Uber app again. Glancing up at the car pulling up to the curb, I turned back to Bernard and said, “And you’re lucky that the only thing I’m doing is firing your ass.”

  “Wait! What? You can’t fire me!” Bernard said as I walked up to the Uber.

  “Rodney?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Jhenai Knight?”

  “That’s me,” I said, hopping into the back seat.

  I always used an alternate name consisting of my middle and maiden names for things such as this. I never wanted people to identify me off the bat because there were so many genuine nutcases in the world. As a popular YouTuber with my cooking show, making over a million a year, I didn’t need to be leaving myself open to assaults or scams.

  “Karina! You can’t fire me!” Bernard was screaming at the window as I closed the door.

  “Please pull off, Rodney,” I said to my Uber driver.

  “You’ve got it, ma’am.”

  We pulled away, leaving Bernard standing on the sidewalk, red in the face, with his mouth wide open.

  I instantly pulled up his number and blocked it. I knew he’d be calling and texting me in no time, and I had no time for his shit. The most important thing I needed to do now was put on my big girl panties, bring my A-game, and pull together a new team that would have my back.

  Slumping against the back seat, I adjusted my sunglasses on my face and pulled my wide brim hat down further to disguise my appearance.

  I could see Rodney glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

  “You look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?” Rodney asked, confirming my conclusion that he had detected my identity.

  “Nope.”

  “You sure look familiar. Sure, I don’t know you?”

  “No, sugar. I’m just a tired bitch that’s ready to go home and prop her feet up.”

  CHAPTER 4 – KARINA

  “No hell, you didn’t fire his ass, KK!” Lori shouted.

  “You’ve got to be shitting me. I couldn’t believe it either,” Rhonda said, sucking her teeth.

  I deadpanned and pulled my wineglass to my lips. Rolling my eyes, I took a sip and then repositioned myself in my recliner.

  “Seriously, KK?” Lori asked.

  “Do I look as if I’m playing? Do I ever say that I’ll do something and not do it?” I asked.

  “Not that I can ever recall,” Rhonda said.

  It was Friday night, the day after I’d fired Bernard, and also the one day each week that my sister and cousin and I got together to have some girl time.

  “Big sis, I’m just saying. Your career is booming, and you’ve already got a lot on your plate. How’re you going to handle this?” Lori asked.

  “With the same focus and determination, I’ve gotten anything else in this life accomplished, little sister.”

  “You’re a badass bitch, I won’t deny that,” my cousin Rhonda said. “But I agree with Lori. It’s a bit much, and you need to be thinking about expanding your brand and not clipping your wings.”

  I scoffed. “I’m not clipping my wings, Ronnie. But I have to make business decisions that make sense to me. He sat his wimpy ass up in that meeting and sold me straight out. Tossed me under the bus and drove that bitch over me a couple of times,” I said, tossing down the remnants of my wine.

  “I, for one, always told you that I didn’t trust his grimy ass anyway,” Rhonda said.

  “Yes, but that was after you, and he stopped sleeping with each other and after you’d already convinced me to hire him,” I pointed out, a disbelieving smile widening my lips.

  Shrugging, she said, “Well, I couldn’t sell him out while he was giving me the good D. Bernard might not be good for much else, but he had some good dick!”

  She licked her lips and slurped, causing Lori to toss a pillow at her.

  “You’re nasty as hell, Ronnie!”

  “It’s never caused my bed to be empty at night,” Rhonda replied.

  “Speaking of which...how’s it going?” I asked my cousin, smirking at her.

  “What?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow at me, and twisting her lips.

  “The whole monogamy challenge that Kevin presented to you. Have you been able to keep your legs closed and only give it up to him?”

  She laughed. “Girl, yes. But that’s only as long as the good dick lasts. If he starts having problems giving it to me or performing, my ass is out!”

  I shook my head at her. “You’re trifling. You do know this, right?”

  “Whatever.”

  “Well, you guys would be happy to know that Jordan and I are expecting,” Lori said with a secretive smile.

  “Get out of here!” Rhonda screamed, jumping up from her space on the couch to embrace my sister.

  Lori squeezed her back, training her gaze on me and giving me a soft look.

  When Rhonda moved away from Lori, I took her place and squeezed her tight.

  “I’m so happy for you guys, Lori. You deserve nothing but the best. You know this, right?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Mommy and Daddy would’ve been proud of you.”

  Our parents had died in a house fire three years prior, and we both still grieved their loss deeply.

  “I know,” she whispered in a tiny voice.

  I inhaled deeply and felt her do the same as I pushed the threat of tears to the side and pulled back from my sister’s embrace. Making my way back to my spot on my recliner, I pulled my feet underneath me and stared at my sister.

  She was my mother’s doppelganger and looked just like her, dark coloring, thick cloud of hair, and body. But being the baby, she was more of a Daddy’s girl and behaved like him. I, on the other hand, had inherited my mother’s looks. My ginger-colored complexion, high cheekbones, warm brown almond-shaped eyes, and European-like features were all inherited from my mother.

  My mother, Regina Knight, was interracial with a black father and white mother, she had passed many of her features on to me, including the texture of my hair. My sister, Lori, always loved my hair because it was “easily manageable,” but I loved hers because mine was long and thin, whereas hers was long and thick.

  I was curvy like my mother with long legs. Alternatively, Lori was curvy but much thicker and had ass for days. The only thing I had inherited from my father was his height. That worked in my favor dispersing my weight evenly across my body.

  “How far along are you?” I asked.

  “Do you know if you’re having a boy or girl?” Rhonda asked.

  Laughing, Lori replied, “We’re six weeks, and we don’t know the gender yet. But I’m not sure if I want to.”

  “Why is it that when people get coupled up, they always say, ‘we’re pregnant.’ Ain’t no way in hell his ass is pregnant and feeling all the shit you’ve felt. Trust me. When I was married to Gabe and pregnant with Tosha and Caleb, Gabe didn’t feel shit. Come to think of it, that’s why I divorced his ass. He’s cold as shit and cares about nothing and no one except himself,” Rhonda shared.

  “I thought you said you two divorced because he had a little dick,” I said.

  “I thought you said y’all divorced because he was lazy,” Lori chimed in.

  “It was all that shit and then some. You name it, and he did it,” Rhonda said.

  That part was probably true. According to my cousin, anyway. We never did get the scoop on why she and her husband divorced after ten years of marriage. At any given time, depending on what topic someone brought to the table about an issue in their life, she w
ould swear that’s why she divorced Gabe.

  She’d married him at the age of twenty-three, and by the time she was thirty-three, they were headed to court again, with divorce papers in hand and a ten-year-old son and an eight-year-old daughter in tow.

  She’d mostly blamed the breakdown of their marriage on the fact they married because she’d gotten pregnant. Rhonda said she wasn’t certain she and Gabe had truly ever loved one another. That was the only clear issue she stuck to on why they divorced.

  “Now, that we’ve got all the idle chatter out of the way, let’s get the tea!” Lori said, rubbing her hands together.

  She picked up her water bottle and sipped it. That made sense now. When I’d first broke out the wine bottle she had declined, stating she wasn’t in a wine-kind-of-mood.

  “What tea?” I asked, frowning at them.

  “Dee neighbor across dee street, who can’t pronounce his ‘t’s’ properly,” Rhonda said in a fake accent that sounded like no accent I’d ever heard.

  I rolled my eyes in exasperation, while Lori laughed at my cousin. “What’s there to tell?”

  “There’s got to be something. You felt comfortable enough to mention him in our chat yesterday.”

  “Ronnie, that’s because I was explaining why I’d had to take an Uber home after my meeting,” I explained.

  “Uh-uh. The way you went in on bruh, something’s got to be wrong. You snapped about the guy, KK,” Lori said.

  “He was irritating. Nothing more. I couldn’t believe he dared to bring his trifling self over here and touch my car. I mean, who does that anyway?” I asked, holding my hands out, palms facing up.

  “The man wants to see what you’re working with, hunty!” Rhonda said, earning her a high-five from my sister.

  “Whatever. That’s not it, at all. Besides, he’s not someone I’d be interested in.”

  “Why not?” Lori asked.

  “Number one, he’s not the type of man that I normally date. He’s a grease monkey who listens to that crazy mumble rap in his big ostentatious Jeep. He’s got tattoos on his arms and dreads in his head. And he probably has like five baby mamas.”