He didn’t get a chance to respond. He was opening his mouth to speak when another voice made him pause.
“Yana, who is it, baby?” It was the heavy, rumbling voice of a man.
Caught off guard, Rome stared at Iyana, waiting for her next move. He’d hurried to this woman’s house, not even thinking of what he would find upon arrival. Now he’d probably put her in an embarrassing position – a man showing up on her doorstep when she obviously had company.
She swung away from him. “Coming,” she said, again in that super-cheerful tone he’d come to associate with her alter ego. When she turned back to face him, though, she looked serious. “Rome, why are you here?” she asked, the smile in her voice gone. “As you can see, I’m busy.”
He nodded. “I know and I’m sorry to disturb you but we need to talk. It’s very important.”
She gave him a look sharp with suspicion. “About what?”
“We won’t talk about it now,” he said, wanting to end the conversation quickly. “Just tell me when’s good for you and I’ll be back.” Then he added, “Or we can meet somewhere. Anywhere. I just need to talk to you.”
He didn’t know if curiosity got the better of Iyana but instead of sending him on his way she stepped back and held the door open. “No, we’ll talk now,” she said firmly. “Come in.”
For the second time since showing up on her front porch Rome raised his eyebrows in surprise. So, company or not, she was inviting him in? Then he did a mental shrug and stepped forward. He could only assume she knew what she was doing.
He found himself in a spacious living room with colorful rugs on the floor, a piano against a wall and a plasma TV that had to be at least seventy inches. The short, squat vase on the glass table in the middle of the room was overflowing with roses, orchids and jasmine that gave the place a flowery fragrance. The room was an intriguing mix of old world and new.
“Have a seat,” Iyana said, waving him over to a wide sofa covered with an intricately embroidered quilt. “I’ll be right back.”
He did as he was told, going over to the sofa as his hostess disappeared into another room. And then he heard the heavy male voice again. “Is it Michael?” the voice asked. “Tell him to come on back here. That’s easier than me going up front to see him.”
“No, it’s not Michael,” was Iyana’s reply. “I’ve got…a visitor. My ex-boss.” The last words sounded tight, like she was clenching her teeth as she said them.
“Is that so? Bring him on back here. I want to meet him.”
Rome’s brows shot up again. Iyana’s man wanted to meet him? After she’d suddenly quit on him? He couldn’t help but wonder what story she’d fed the man. Even he didn’t know her reason for leaving so what had she told her boyfriend?
Within five seconds the woman in question was back, beckoning to him. “Can you come with me, please? There’s someone who would like to meet you.”
“Don’t I know it,” he muttered under his breath but to Iyana he gave a brusque nod and got up from his perch. “I’m right behind you,” he said as if the pending introduction did not bother him one bit.
She turned and led the way and soon they came to a sunny kitchen where an elderly man sat by a window overlooking a garden that was even more impressive than the ones at the front. The man was sitting in a wheelchair.
“Ho there,” he said with a wave and a broad smile. “Is this the famous Rome Milano I’ve been hearing so much about?” He stuck his hand out for a shake, not waiting for an answer. “Come on over, young man. Let me greet you properly.”
The man’s grin was infectious and although Rome had no idea what Iyana had been telling him about her ‘ex-boss’ as she so eloquently described him, he somehow felt comfortable in the elder’s presence. It was actually a relief to be shaking hands with a senior rather than someone who could have been Iyana’s beau.
Rome took his weathered hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr….” He paused, realizing he had no idea whose hand he was holding. Iyana’s father, maybe?
“This is my grandfather, Andrew Jackson. Gramps, meet my boss, Rome Milano.” Then, as if catching her blunder, Iyana mumbled, “I mean my ex-boss.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Jackson,” Rome said, giving the man’s hand a hearty shake.
“Welcome to our home,” Mr. Jackson said then dropped his hands and wheeled his chair close to the kitchen table. “Take a load off,” he said. “Have a seat and we can share a pot of tea.”
That almost made Rome smile. He hadn’t expected Mr. Jackson would be a tea-drinker. It was a stereotype but it made him sound so British.
“Uh, Gramps, Mr. Milano can’t stay. He’s sort of…in a hurry.” Iyana made sure she was standing at an angle where Andrew Jackson couldn’t see her face as she sent a speedy message to Rome with her eyes. The message was, 'no tea for you, just move along'.
Rome could take a hint. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jackson, but Iyana’s right. I can’t stay.”
“That’s too bad,” he began but his granddaughter was already moving toward the exit, giving Rome eyes that obviously meant, ‘let’s go’.
Dutifully, he gave a bow of farewell to the gracious old man and followed his ex-personal assistant back to the living room.
Quickly, she pulled the door closed then turned to face him. “Now will you tell me what this is about? I’m sure it’s not a social visit.”
He didn’t bother to beat around the bush. “I need your help,” he said urgently. “I need you to come with me to see Arie to clear up something.”
Iyana’s gaze narrowed and she folded her arms across her chest. “Something like what?”
“I need you to tell Arie what your feelings are toward me. She’s got all kinds of crazy ideas and I won’t get any peace until this thing has been discussed and put to bed.” He gave her a look he hoped was pleading enough to sway her.
She didn’t seem convinced. “Why should I do something like that?”
“Count it as your good deed for the day, Iyana. Heck, it can count for the whole week. Just help me out, will you?” Now he was really pleading and he didn’t even care. He needed her help and if he had to beg to get it, that was exactly what he would do.