Dangerously Delicious

1.

Arianna

My neck.

My back.

Stupidly I started to hum the old Khia song of My neck, My back as I trudged down the hall to my studio apartment. It was nearing 2 am and I was now making it home. I had mixed feelings about this. On the brighter side, my restaurant just celebrated its 3 year anniversary with a full house. We were constantly turning over tables all night as our special guest entertained the masses while they ate. I smiled remembering the look on my patrons' faces when Ashanti took the small stage with the house band. She cost a pretty penny but it was worth it.

Three years.

Three years of owning my own restaurant. The only black-owned restaurant in a district of predominantly white established businesses. My initial start was rocky as with every new owner. Trust and connection weren't formed between the staff, the chef had an ego the size of South America and my new neighbors were petty to a fault. I thought it amusing when they gave bad reviews on Yelp about my place when they haven't stepped a foot in it but I was out for blood when a certain review was posted. Someone claimed I was living it up on a white sugar daddy paycheck just like all other black women.

I was out for revenge but when I caught the attention of a well-known food critic, he shut down all of the naysayers' efforts.

I was truly happy. I made my own success story.

The downfall of the night sums up to me needing to expand the dining area. With a bit more space, I can get more tables and foot space, maybe a dance floor. The problem will be the real estate next door. The building has been standing vacant for a year and no one has picked it up. Every time I inquired about it or have a real estate agent put in an offer on it, I was always outbid.

Heaving a heavy sigh, I unlocked the metal door which slid and not pushed. The alarm I installed myself alerted me of the door being opened. I quickly disarmed it and locked myself in before I was greeted by my lovable guard dog, Vinny. This grey eyed pitbull was a rescue, his previous owners abandoned him in the dumpsters behind the restaurant, he was a tiny thing but now he was all muscle and the best companion I ever had.

"Hey, buddy. How was your night? Did Chloe give you a good walk?" I asked him while welcoming his sloppy kisses. Chloe was his dog walker. I hated the thought of him being bored out of his mind while I was out so I decided to splurge on him. Well if you don't count the new doggie bed and the four new collars, oh and the new doggie fountain he had on the terrace.

I couldn't help it. He needed them.

Ditching my bag on the end table near the door, I pressed play on my answering machine. I couldn't ignore that blinking red light.

"Hey, Ari. It's me. Ummm... call me back. I've been leaving messages for you constantly but.... look I miss you, baby. I'm sorry for what happened. It took my stupidity to realize what a wonderful woman you are. Please call me baby."

I rolled my eyes at the pathetic message. I've blocked him from my cell phone, social pages and even had a lookout for him at the restaurant. I left my home phone untouched because I was never home. The machine went on to play the next message as I walked towards my bedroom which was on a platform. A Japanese inspired screen separated it from the other parts of the studio's open floor plan. It housed a wide closet, my queen-sized bed, two-night tables, a bookshelf and a little writer's desk which housed all my portable devices. Vinny scampered up the stairs and practically threw himself on my bed, huffing my way when I gave him a scolding look.

'NEXT MESSAGE' The automated voice said.

"My My aren't we popular today, Vinny? Wonder who's next? Taron Egerton?" I joked already ditching my clothes for a warm shower.