Love's Chance

1

Love’s Chance By Angela Kay Austin

2

Dedication

When they said, “Now, send us your dedication.” thought, this should be easy.

Goodness, I was wrong.

course, you don’t want to forget anyone.

I Of

This is my first

published work and so many have supported me in different ways along the way. Writing can be such a solitary thing. So, when you have people around you that offer support and feedback, you cherish each and every one of them. Throughout my writing experience, I’ve been fortunate to have family and friends that have understood that regardless of whether or not I made a sell of one manuscript that writing was important to me. They read every poem, blog post, short story, or novel, and offered me their opinions on the stories I tried to bring to life.

3

I don’t think any number of thank yous can express how grateful I am to have had the men in my life to craft Chance O’Malley after, and the women to shape into Sinclair Mosley. Thank you: Ulysses, Velma, Austin, Clara, Christopher, Gary, and Felicia. Thank you to the ladies of Washington Romance Writers critique group. Thank you to my editor, Carrie RO, you cared as much about my manuscript as I did, and Bernadette Smith for catching everything we missed. I have to thank LaVerne Thompson.

I don’t think she knows how

much of a mentor she’s been to me. If I’ve forgotten anyone, I apologize. Thank you to every one of you for being generous enough to offer your time in support of me and my dreams! And, finally, thank you to Lea Schizas and Red Rose Publishing for giving me this opportunity. You’ve allowed me to realize one of my childhood dreams.

4

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Love’s Chance by Angela Kay Austin Red Rose™ Publishing Publishing with a touch of Class! ™ The symbol of the Red Rose and Red Rose is a trademark of Red Rose™ Publishing Red Rose™ Publishing Copyright© 2010 Angela Kay Austin ISBN: 978-1-60435-665-6 Cover Artist: T D McKinney Editor: Carrie RO Line Editor: Bernadette Smith All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Due to copyright laws you cannot trade, sell or give any ebooks away. This is a work of fiction. All references to real places, people, or events are coincidental, and if not coincidental, are used fictitiously. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only. Red Rose™ Publishing www.redrosepublishing.com Forestport, NY 13338 Thank you for purchasing a book from Red Rose™ Publishing where publishing comes with a touch of Class!

5

Love’s Chance By Angela Kay Austin

6

Chapter One

Sinclair Mosley searched the sea of faces in front of her from her position behind the podium. Linen tablecloths covered twenty or so tables crowded between dark draped windows and fabric covered walls.

The tables were

occupied by the a-list of Carni‟s Foods: president, executive vice presidents, senior vice presidents, vice presidents, directors, mangers and so on. Somehow, she‟d stumbled onto the perfect answer to all of her problems. She would work for two years for one of the largest grocery retailers on the east coast. In front of her were all of the people she‟d needed over the past six months and would continue to need for the next year and a half in Pennsylvania. She noted the normal reactions: disinterest, sleepiness, and admiration. Bodies shifted for comfort at overcrowded tables. Diners vied for elbow room. Silverware scraped against dinnerware as guests poked at half eaten cold chicken, limp asparagus, and tasteless mashed potatoes illuminated by melted candles. Her attention was drawn to the Pacific-blue eyes staring at her from a roomy table up front. She sipped from her water glass, relaxed her breathing and calmed her thoughts. He smiled and nodded, she continued with her presentation.

7

At its conclusion, she fielded questions regarding projected sales, product selection, and sales promotion. Once the last question was answered, she walked off the stage toward her small overcrowded tabled nestled among the others. The crowd thinned as the night progressed, she‟d said good night to all of her staff, her table was empty, but Sinclair didn‟t want to leave until her V.P., Daniel Houser, left for the night, and it didn‟t seem like he was leaving anytime soon. She glanced at her watch. It was 11:30 P.M. At 6:30 A.M. she had a meeting scheduled to review her t-shirt sales before she flew to Vegas for a week. Closed eyed, she covered her mouth and yawned. “Tired?” Sinclair opened her eyes, and stared into Chance O‟Malley‟s watery blue gaze. Dressed in a simple black suite with a crisp white shirt, and a thin black tie, Chance O‟Malley was perfect. “Yeah. Aren‟t you? If I knew we would be here this long, I would‟ve brought my notes with me for our meeting tomorrow.” Chance pulled out a chair beside Sinclair and sat. He leaned back and rested his arm across the back of her chair. His thigh touched hers underneath the table. “Your presentation was really good. I think you were the only one who actually kept to the time limit.” He ran a hand across his military hair cut. “How long was Raquel up there? Forty-five minutes.”

8

She could feel her cheeks redden due to his nearness. “I think so.” Chance‟s look fixed on something across the room; he shifted in his seat. His body leaned closer to hers. “So, when are you leaving? I‟ll walk you to your car.” She followed his stare.

Raquel Dickinson, Bakery Category Manager,

stalked in their direction. Her broad, angry movements destroyed the effect of the body hugging dress she wore. Reddish blonde hair flowed like untamed fire over bare shoulders. Sinclair searched the room for her boss, Daniel Houser. She caught a glimpse of his back as he and his wife slipped out of the dining hall. As the breath escaped her, her shoulders slumped. Not so much as a pat on the back or job well done. For some reason, he spent as little time as possible around her. He wasn‟t a bad guy, but he definitely was not the „go to‟ guy in case of emergency. “It looks like I can leave at any time.” Chance stood, and pulled out Sinclair‟s chair. “Let‟s go.” Raquel reached their table before they could leave. “Calling it a night so early?” He stood between the two women, and reached for Sinclair‟s hand to help her stand. “Yeah Raquel it‟s been a long night, and I‟ve got a meeting in the morning.”

9

Raquel leaned around Chance. “Sinclair, do you mind if I walk out with the two of you?” “Of course not. Are you ready?” Chance released Sinclair‟s hand, but walked closely behind. “Raquel, where did you park?” She snaked her arm around his. “Next to your truck.” “And Sinclair what about you?” “I am on the other side of the lot. You really don‟t have to walk me all of the way.” “Sinclair, Chance and I would not dream of letting you walk to your car alone.” Raquel rubbed her hand up and down Chance‟s arm, and looked up into his eyes. “Would we Chance?” Chance stopped underneath the awning in front of the banquet hall. “Sinclair, wait here. Come on Raquel.” Chance and Raquel walked into the night toward their cars. Sinclair didn‟t wait; she headed in the direction of her car. Footsteps behind her caught her attention. “Sinclair. Stop.” Chance‟s voice was stern. He blocked her path. “I asked you to wait.” “I know, but I didn‟t want to be any trouble.

10

You and Raquel…you

seemed—” “We seemed what? If you have a question, ask it.” His stare was amplified by his silence. She had questions, but they didn‟t matter. She shook her head from side to side. “No. It‟s really none of my business.” “None of your business?” Chance walked slow and close. “No. You and Raquel have your own thing.” “We do have a history, Sinclair, but—” Sinclair stopped at her car door. “But it‟s none of my business.” Chance stepped in closer. “What if I want that to change?” She took a step back. “It couldn‟t” He stepped back, and stared. “It couldn‟t or you wouldn‟t let it?” “Chance, I can‟t.” She turned to open her car door. “Thanks for walking me to my car.” She stepped back to open the door, for a moment her body fit into his. She slid into her car, and shut the door behind her. He tapped on the window, and waited. The window‟s hand crank squeaked as the window lowered. “Tomorrow at 6:30 A.M. or do you want to push it back?” “No let‟s not change anything.” “Okay.” Chance, turned and walked away.

11

Sinclair navigated the dimly-lit maze of cubicles. She darted around a forgotten potted plant as she neared her destination. She paused and dabbed at her moist cheeks with the back of her hand. She‟d overslept. At 6:45 A.M. she was fifteen minutes late for her briefing. She burst into Chance office; one of her honey-golden locs flopped into her eye. “Chance, sorry I‟m late.” “Don‟t worry about it. I just got here myself.” Unlike normal, a patchy beard veiled his usually clean-shaven, chiseled jawline. Dark circles shadowed his blue eyes. Faded blue jeans and a wrinkled illfitting sweatshirt rounded out his morning look. It would put off anybody who dared approach him. Maybe it would scare off one of his particularly clingy strawberry blonde fans. She had no reason to think it, but she did anyway. The night before had once again been filled with thoughts of him. His touch. His smell. Those things her body and mind knew, well. And with that information, her mind created its own wonderful simulations of what the rest would be like. She didn‟t know she could be so creative. Reports review meetings gave her a reason to stare. The changes she‟d approved produced low sales with one item, t-shirts. Reporting the sales to her boss at the next sales meeting was her responsibility as Category Manager.

12

She presented Chance with her peace offering—luke-warm brown water masquerading as coffee. “I grabbed coffee for you from the vending machine.” His long, pale fingers brushed across hers when he took the cup from her hand; the styrofoam cup nearly vanished in his grasp. A wonderful warm tingle spread from her hand up her arm across her chest and through her entire body. With each curl and sip of his coffee his bicep flex and tighten his sleeve. How could this man be so sexy at 6:45A.M., with no effort? “Thanks.” A warm easy smile softened his angular features, and replaced his tired expression. “It‟s the least I could do since you agreed to meet me at such a crazy hour. I‟m sorry I needed to have the meeting so early, but my flight leaves just after noon. I need to input all of the changes, make some calls, and get to the airport in time.” His palm rubbed against the back of his head, he yawned. “I keep telling you it‟s not a problem. So, what do we have?” The stack of papers in her hand rustled, as she pointed at a number on the page she was reading. “This report you pulled says the shirts are selling in the college towns.” Chance dragged his chair across the green carpet closer to her. He read the numbers her natural nails pointed out to him. “So, this one is an easier fix than the others.”

13

“Looks that way. Thank goodness.” The list of universities she handed Chance was based on a previous report he‟d run. After a few keystrokes another report printed. The sales across the chain on the items on the report were perfect. She‟d be able to recover sales by the end of the quarter. “This looks good. I can add these vendors and load up with more of the product branded with some of these larger colleges and universities. We should see a lift almost immediately.” “Your meeting is next week. We should have enough time to pull new numbers.” “Chance, you‟re a lifesaver. I wish that they would let me access this stuff. Then I wouldn‟t have to bother you. I don‟t know what I would do without you?” “Sinclair, I am here whenever you need me, but I do know what I would do without you.” His grin intrigued her. It hid a secret only he knew the answer to. “What?” she asked. “Sleep later.” Hearty and warm, his laughter overtook her.

In a dark, empty office

building Sinclair found herself having more fun than she‟d had since moving to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania six months before. “Well, because of you now I can leave for the General Merchandise conference in Nevada without worrying so much about my numbers while I‟m

14

gone.” “That‟s why I‟m here. Do you have a ride to the airport?” “Taxi.” “I really don‟t mind driving you.” “You help me out so much. I don‟t want to bother you with stuff like this, too. The taxi is fine.” She pushed her chair away from his side. “Michael Dickinson invited me to the tradeshow this year. So, it really wouldn‟t be a bother. I‟d just end up at the airport early.” “Michael wants you to come? Why,” asked Sinclair. At least there would be one friendly face in Vegas, but this conference was for category managers and buyers. Category managers. She might as well have slapped her hand against her forehead. Of course, Raquel. “Oh, I forgot.” She didn‟t mean to let it slip out, but it did. “What?” Chance‟s jovial mood became stoic. “What do you mean you forgot?” She stared. He waited, but for a moment, neither said a word. “I‟m not sure. Maybe it‟s because of a project we‟re working on. For some reason, I can‟t seem to get out of it.” “Is that the only reason?” Apparently, she couldn‟t control her big mouth.

15

He stood. “Say what you mean?” Sinclair walked toward his office doorway. “Nothing. Never mind.” She had no reason to ask. That was established the other night. He walked toward her; she couldn‟t move. He reached around her, and the door behind her closed. “I tried to explain things to you last night.” Palms up, she placed them on his chest to keep space between them. “I‟m sorry. Really. No explanation is needed.” Nervous energy or excitement, she wasn‟t sure which surged through her whole body. She didn‟t know what was going to happen or what she wanted to happen. His one hand covered both of hers. “You act as if you‟re afraid of me.” The other lay flat against the door behind her. “Are you?” His breath caressed her cheek as he leaned in closer. Breathlessly, she responded, “No.” “Then why are you running?” She freed one of her hands, and searched for the doorknob. “I‟m not. I just want to work.” He stepped back. “Work only.” Sighing heavily, she replied, “Yes. Work only.” He returned to his desk. “Chance.”

16

Silence was her only response. “Chance, please understand.” “I understand Sinclair. Don‟t worry about it. I‟ll see you in Vegas.” He dragged his chair back behind his desk, sat, and busied himself with something on his computer screen. “Okay, I guess I‟ll see you in Vegas.” “Yeah, you will.”

Six hours later, barefoot and worn out Sinclair walked through her seventies era hotel room aimlessly. Maybe she should‟ve taken Chance up on his offer to ride with him to the airport because her taxi arrived twenty minutes late. She had been forced to sprint through the airport to make her plane. Today was the first time she didn‟t regret living in central Pennsylvania: small airports, no carry-outs, techno music, peanut shells on the floor of dance clubs and all. If she lived anywhere else, she would‟ve been watching her plane take off without her. Curled up on her king-sized metal canopy bed, she decided to check her Blackpeoplemeet.com email. Without her permission, her girlfriends had signed her up and paid for a year in advance. Initially, she‟d refused to check it at all, but after nearly six months and not one good date, she gave in. Although the site was Blackpeoplemeet.com she‟d been contacted by a lot of guys that were not black.

17

They‟d signed her up to meet Black guys. Her cell phone vibrated across the slate top of the metal dresser. She placed her laptop on the mattress beside her, and sprang off the bed to catch it before it went to voicemail. “Hey, Kendra. What have you been up to?” Sinclair plopped back onto the bed; hit mute on the television remote, and stared at the images on the screen. She‟d known Kendra Jones since freshman year of college. Their dorm rooms were across the hall from each other. Kendra had coaxed her into joining a group called Black People United. They participated in every protest and sit-in they could find. “Nada much. I called your house? Where are you? On a date?” asked Kendra with excitement in her voice. “If you thought I was on a date...why did you call? You could‟ve been disturbing my groove.” “Yeah, right,” said Kendra with sarcasm in her voice. “Anyway, I was just about to log onto Blackpeoplemeet.com.” “It‟s about time you started checking that site. Have you found any good ones, yet?” “Not really. Most of the guys who‟ve contacted me are not black.” “Have you contacted any men yourself?”

18

“What? Of course not!” “Well, if they don‟t contact you, you need to contact them.” “Girl, please. You know that‟s not me.” “Well at least women aren‟t contacting you,” laughed Kendra. “Um, that‟s not funny. I‟ve had a few sign my guestbook.” The laughter in Kendra‟s voice quieted. “See, that‟s what I‟m talking about. How are we ever supposed to survive if the men won‟t date us, but the women will?” “Kendra, it‟s not that bad. There are a lot of good men out there...if you‟re patient enough to find one.” “What do you mean? Of course it is. All you have to do is read any of the books today. You‟ve got down low brothers, brothers in jail, gay brothers, and its beginning to affect the women. Either you‟re by yourself, with someone of another race, or dating another woman.” “Yeah, I read some articles in Ebony and Essence about college girls choosing to date other women instead of dating outside of the race. Don‟t you think that‟s extreme?” “Of course, but what are we supposed to do as black women.” “You act like there are no good black men.” “Have you found one in Harrisburg?”

19

It wasn‟t really a fair question. The only guy she‟d really noticed was Chance, and he wasn‟t black. Irish. “I haven‟t really been looking. That is…unless you count laughing at, and then deleting the messages from guys on Blackpeoplemeet.com. I don‟t think I‟ve ever seen so many shirtless men in showers outside of Playgirl.” Sinclair laughed at her own words. “I don‟t have time for the whole dating thing, but speaking of dates; did I tell you I ran into that guy who asked me out a few weeks ago in a club?” “Which one?” “The one that worked for the Mayor‟s office.” “Oh, yeah, the chocolate hottie.” “He was with his girlfriend. A white girl. He didn‟t even speak. He just kind of stood there with this stupid look on his face.” “What! He had some nerve. I hope you told him you wouldn‟t be second to anybody...white, black or anything in between.” “What for? He‟d asked me out, but that was it. He‟s her problem, not mine. I left the club; went home, and popped in a DVD.” “You‟re getting soft down there. I‟m going to have to grab our girl, and we‟re coming to Harrisburg.” Oh no. “That‟s all I need.” “What? You think we won‟t fit in Harrisburg? You‟re the one with the

20

dreadlocks, baby,” joked Kendra. Sinclair tugged at the tip of one of her locs. “Yeah, but they‟re blonde,” she uttered through broken laughter. “So, what‟s up with Colin Farrell?” Aside from his ocean blue eyes, Chance looked remarkably like a six-foot two inch Colin Farrell. SEXY. Several nights her sleep had been cut short by dreams of Chance followed by cold showers or warm bubble baths, a glass of wine, and daydreams. But her father‟s mantra sounded in her mind.

“If he can‟t use your

comb...don‟t bring him home.” How would her family react if she decided to date Chance O‟Malley? “What do you mean what‟s up with Colin Farrell?” “You‟ve been there almost six months. A woman has needs, and yours haven‟t been taken care of in a while.” “You know for a Black Panther wannabe why are you trying to put me with Chance?” “Like I said needs, baby, needs.” Laughter rang out from the other end of the phone. Whatever. “Girl, I‟m not like you. I can control myself.” Sinclair grabbed the edge of the bed comforter, and covered her feet.

21

She could picture Kendra‟s smile as she said, “Hey, I can‟t help it if I have a healthy sexual appetite.” Sinclair could barely control her laughter. “Healthy.” Kendra disregarded her laughter. “Anyway as I was saying...Colin Farrell might be fun.” “His name is Chance.” “Hmm...protective...okay, okay Chance might be fun.” “He‟s the only person I know here who can look me in the eye and have a conversation longer than five minutes about something other than work. That‟s all I‟d need is to start up something with him. Could you imagine the rumors?” “True, true. And then you wouldn‟t have any reason to stay. Although when I think about it like that I don‟t see the downside. You should‟ve moved here to New York or even DC.” “And how was I going to finish my last year of grad school. This job will count for the credits I need to fulfill the requirements for my Masters in Business Administration. Since Mom and Dad spent everything from the store on me and Grandma before she passed away...this program is my only chance to finish my degree without loans.” “With your first degree, and scholarships you could‟ve done something.” “Maybe, but it took me a while to find this program. I won‟t have any debt

22

when it‟s over. I can go back to Georgia take over my parents‟ restaurant and get things together. They can‟t keep going at the pace they‟re going. They should be retired by now. They take care of everyone, but themselves.” “I know. I know. When will it be your turn?” “By the end of year, I‟ll have my degree, a bonus check big enough to choke a cow, and I‟ll be back in Georgia. When I‟m there I can think about the next step.” “But in the meantime, what are you going to do for fun in PA?” “Not sure, yet. But I‟m getting a little tired. I need to crash if I‟m going to be ready for tomorrow. I‟ve got a week of nothing but meetings ahead of me. Tomorrow my first meeting‟s at 8:00 A.M.” “God girl. That‟s why I love my life. I work on my designs when I want to.” “Well, we can‟t all design jewelry and live in SoHo. New York. But, I‟ll give you a call when I get back to Pennsylvania.” “Peace, girl.” “Bye.”

Chance checked his wristwatch again and thought twice about knocking on the door. It was 8:30 P.M., not too late, and they were in Vegas. Who‟d be sleeping so early their first night in Vegas? The muffled voice on the other side of the door said, “Coming.”

23

He took all of her in at once. The puffy oversized robe she wore matched her slippers. Her locs were tied by a piece of white fabric into an intricate design resting on the top of her head. What did she do go straight from the plane to her bed? “Chance.” Her eyebrows pinched together behind her glasses. “I woke you. I wasn‟t trying to wake you. Honestly, it‟s Vegas, Sinclair. Were you really sleeping? I thought you might want to go for a walk on the strip or something.” “I‟m sorry. I was so tired, and my plane ride was awful. Maybe tomorrow.” Slowly, she began to close the door. Slight pressure against the door stopped it from closing. “Hey, the only good thing about having to come here was that you‟d be here. I thought we could hang out.” He threw up three fingers, and held down his pinky with his thumb. The best version of the Boy Scout‟s Honor he knew. How many times had he practiced that gesture, and salute with his father? “I won‟t keep you out long. I promise.” The longer he stood there with that salute, the more he remembered. Part of the meaning behind that gesture: to help others at all times was why he didn‟t have a father. “Chance.” Sinclair stood silently.

24

His hand fell to his side. “I‟ll bring you back before midnight, Cinderella.” Sinclair sighed in defeat as she turned back into the interior of the room. “Okay, just give me a minute to put something on. Come on in.” Chance couldn‟t stop himself from wondering what she was wearing underneath the robe. Whatever it was he couldn‟t see any of it. The cotton robe touched her bronzed skin everywhere his eyes could see. He followed her inside. “No problem.” Sinclair pointed to a brass settee upholstered with mahogany colored velvet. “Have a seat, I‟ll be back.” She vanished into the bathroom after grabbing a small bag. Chance dropped into the settee; his mind was racing. He didn‟t know what he should do next. For him, coming to Vegas had one purpose, but he knew how to read caution signs, and Sinclair had flashing yellow signs all around her. Time spent with Sinclair, away from work, might get her to loosen up. The key would be to avoid Raquel. He swore the woman had him low-jacked. He could barely make a move without her showing up. Sinclair emerged from the bathroom. “I‟m ready.” Golden dreadlocks crinkled into big twists cascaded down around her shoulders. Although not revealing, her tangerine blouse hugged her full bosom then lay over the top of the waistband of her jeans. Jeans that hugged the curves of

25

her hips and thighs. DAMN. Immediately, his body reacted to hers. It took him a moment to rise from the chair. “I‟m ready,” repeated Sinclair. “Okay, so what do you want to do first? Casino downstairs or maybe walk under the lights on Fremont?” Her eyes twinkled as she spoke. “Lights.” “Okay, lights it is. Let‟s go grab a taxi.” The cab ride to Fremont Street was the longest ride of his life. With her eyes closed, she rested her head on his shoulder the entire trip. Each rub of her cheek against his shoulder matched the caress of her breasts against his arm as she found the right spot to doze. Touch after touch increased his ache. His need and desire. His khaki pants pulled tighter against his body with each stroke. Before the taxi dropped them at their destination, he hoped he‟d regain control. When the taxi pulled up to the curb, he grew anxious, but he had to wake her in order to reach his wallet. After quickly counting to ten, he opened the door and they hopped out. “Sinclair you seem really tired. Maybe we should head back.” “No, I‟ll be fine,” she yawned and stretched. Chance draped his arm around her and they walked. “Okay, Cinderella, we‟ll have you home before midnight.”

26

“So, if I‟m Cinderella, are you my Prince Charming?” “Maybe not Prince Charming, but the Frog Prince.” “Hmm. Frog Prince. So, I have to kiss you to break the curse?” Chance stopped; backed Sinclair up against a brick wall, and paused. He wanted to kiss her. For about six months, he‟d wanted it. “You have to kiss me to break the spell. That‟s true.” Her breathing sped up to match his. “What spell?” He couldn‟t play the game any longer. “Sinclair, will you stop me?” “Stop you…Chance, I—” Her words stopped. Chance‟s hands explored Sinclair‟s body. Slowly, he dragged them up and down her butt, thighs, and back. He placed his hands on either side of her head, and he intertwined his fingers in her locs. “Sinclair. Yes or no.” “Ye—” Chance didn‟t wait for her to finish. Her mouth opened to his. The warmth of her tongue increased his desire. This time, he didn‟t count to ten or hide it. He pressed his body into hers, and hers into the stone behind her. Petite hands pressed into his back. The pull of her arms held his body in place. “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” said a male voice passing by. Chance realized where they were, and he pulled away. back.”

27

“Sinclair let‟s go

“Huh.” Her eyes were as wide as saucers. “When we get there, if you want me to leave it‟s okay.” The same taxi driver dropped them back at their hotel. Chance held Sinclair against his side on the elevator ride up. He held her hand as they walked down the hallway. He didn‟t let her go until they were inside her room, and then only to lock the door, and put her back against it. Their two clothed bodies stumbled from the door past the two metal settees toward the bed where they fell. “Chance.” Sinclair‟s voice hinted at a question. “Chance.” Chance‟s mind was foggy, but he heard her. “Yes.” His hand cupped her breast. Sinclair‟s hand rested softly on top of his. “Not tonight. I mean…we shouldn‟t.” He sat up, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His elbows rested on his thighs, and his hands covered his face. For a moment, he sat in silence. Then, he asked, “Did I do something? I can tell you want me, too.” Sinclair rose, and positioned her body next to his. She lowered his hands from his face, and held them in hers. “No. What would I do without you at work? I don‟t want anything to change between us.” She released his hands, and rubbed her palms up and down her thighs. “This would change things.” Her voice was

28

not steady. He didn‟t want to stop. He wanted to be inside of her, but he needed to think about her words, and about what she wanted. What he wanted. “Sinclair, whatever you want is what I‟ll do. I want you, but if you don‟t want me or know what you want then I should leave.” He stood, and straightened his jostled clothing. Part of him protested his attempt to leave. No matter how much he tugged at his pants, he couldn‟t hide his desire. Sinclair jumped from the bed behind him. “No, Chance, I just want you as a friend.” “Oh, okay, friends only.” He took a step back, and began to turn. “I thought you were attracted to me, too. I wasn‟t by myself on the bed.” She grabbed his arm with one hand, and stared into his eyes. “No, I mean. I want you in both ways. But we can‟t hide this at work. Somebody could‟ve seen us on Fremont or walking in here tonight.” “So what?” He knew work was a caution flag with Sinclair, but he thought Vegas might change some things. “Sinclair, it‟s just the two of us in here. I‟m not going to run back to Carni‟s bragging about what we do here tonight.” He felt like she didn‟t know him. “Don‟t you trust me?” “Of course I trust you. But, I‟m not stupid. I see the way people act around me. I walk into a room, and people start whispering. Why? People in my

29

department asking around about my salary, and how‟d I get my job. I don‟t want or need more grief at work.” He stared into her watery eyes. As he stepped back, her grip tightened on his arm. The hurt reflected on her face tore at his gut, but he was upset, too. “I get it. Don‟t worry about it. I‟ll be careful leaving, and you don‟t have to worry about bumping into me while we are here or anything.” The door, a mile away, beckoned his exit. When did they even go into the bedroom? “Are you going to just walk out?” The distance between the door and the bedroom faded as he answered. “I understand what you are saying. Right now, I‟m just not in the best position to talk about all of this. It‟s probably best if I leave. We can talk later.” The door clicked softly behind him. The elevator door chimed, but before he hit the button for his floor, Raquel jumped onto the elevator. “So, where are you headed?” “Raquel, go to your room. I‟m not in the mood tonight.” “Not in the mood.” She dragged her skirt up over her thighs. “Find yourself another sucker tonight.” Emerald eyes blazed at him. “Why did you come to Vegas, if it wasn‟t to be with me? Why do you think daddy invited you?” “I don‟t know why he invited me, but maybe I should leave.”

30

“No.” She grabbed his arm. The elevator jerked to a halt, and the doors opened. “Raquel go to your daddy, that‟s a man you can handle.” Chance dragged himself down the hallway. He was going to bed alone, but for once, it wasn‟t because he wanted it.

31

Chapter Two

Sinclair swung the door open, and ran after Chance.

What was she

thinking? An invisible wall smacked her in the face when she turned the corner. Raquel slinked into the elevator behind Chance. Raquel would not make the same mistake she had.

A warbled image that looked like her stared at Sinclair from the mirror behind the hotel bar. Two whole days, forty-eight hours, two thousand eighthundred and eighty minutes had passed since she‟d spoken to Chance. What had he and Raquel been doing with all of that time? The only reason she knew he was still in town was because he‟d attended a few sessions with her, but he always showed up late; sat far from her, and left before she could get out of her seat. He gave her exactly what she wanted. Just work. She was so used to seeing him every day that she couldn‟t stand him ignoring her. Using her straw as a stirrer, she blended the white pina colada and strawberry daiquiri halves of her drink together. In that moment, she decided the next time she saw him, she‟d tell him he was acting like a child. Or punch him.

32

She sucked on the straw until she got brain freeze. How many drinks did she have anyway? It didn‟t matter. “Sinclair.” She didn‟t turn to face Chance. His reflection in the mirror muddled by bottles of gin, vodka, and tequila was enough. “What?” “Can I join you?” “Why? Are you through ignoring me?” “Can we go somewhere and talk?” “No.” She spun around on her stool to face him. “If you want to talk, we can do it here.” Maybe the rum in her drink was doing the talking. He reached for her glass. “What are you drinking? How many have you had?” He pushed it away, and signaled the bartender. Grabbing for her drink, she asked, “What are you doing?” “I think we should talk, but I don‟t want you drunk.” The bartender interrupted. “What can I get you?” “Nothing, but can I get her bill. We‟d like to close out.” Sinclair wanted to protest, but she didn‟t. Why? Because this was what she wanted. The bartender returned with the bill. Chance paid, and they walked out. He placed his hand in the small of her back to steady her as he guided her toward

33

the elevators. “Where are we going?” “Your room.” “What?” her body stiffened. “We can sit on the balcony, and talk.” The ride in the elevator was silent. She watched him in the shiny surface of the elevator doors. He leaned against the back wall with his eyes closed. His arms crossed his body. He didn‟t budge until the elevator bells chimed. She kicked her shoes off as soon as she entered her room. Snatching her pajamas from her bed, she walked into the bathroom to change. Chance stretched out in one of the lounge chairs on her balcony. “Chance, are you sleeping?” Eyes closed, his head turned in her direction. They opened, and he spoke. “No. Just thinking.” She sat in the chair next to his. “Thinking about what?” “I‟m sorry about the other night.” He sat up. “I didn‟t mean to disrespect you. I wanted you—” “I...” “Let me finish. I am attracted to you. I understand you want to keep it professional.” He paused.

34

“Chance, you don‟t owe me an apology.” She left her seat, and joined him on his. Pressing him backwards, she leaned her body into his. His body resisted, but she pushed harder. Her kisses traveled up his neck to his jaw-line, she gently rubbed her cheek against his. With a slight tilt, she met his lips with hers. He didn‟t respond. Pulling back, she said, “Kiss me.” His hands pushed aside her robe. They slid up, and down the silk fabric of her pajamas. The heat of his palms warmed her skin through the material. He pulled her into him, and leaned back on the lounge chair. He kissed her. Tender and sweet at first, but each tongue thrust went deeper. His grip on her body became firmer. The feel of his lips awakened something in side of her she hadn‟t intended. She wanted all of him. Too soon, he let her go, and put space between them.

“You‟ve been

drinking.” She heard him, but she focused on his mouth, and touched her fingers to her own as she remembered the feel of his. “I‟m not drunk.” “Two nights ago, you kicked me out of your bed, but tonight it‟s okay.” He stood. “I wanted to talk. I wanted you to know what was on my mind. I needed to make sure you understood the other night was about more than sex.” She wrapped her robe around her tighter. “I know, and I‟m not drunk. I missed you.”

35

He lifted her up in his arms, and carried her to her bed. “You should miss me.” He lowered her to the bed. “But I should leave.” “Again?” “Yes. I‟m flying out in the morning. I wanted us to talk before I left. I‟ll be in Harrisburg when you get back.” His hand caressed her cheek, and then drifted to her neck following along the collar of her robe. “If you still feel like you do now when you get home I‟ll finish what we started.” The touch of his lips against her forehead melted her. She reached for him, but he pulled out of her embrace. “Sinclair, I don‟t think I could have another night like last night. I want you to be sure about what you‟re doing.” He left. As soon as her head hit the pillow, the room began to swirl. She closed her eyes to stop the movement. Her stomach roiled, she clamped her hand over her mouth and ran from the bed to the bathroom.

Days had passed, but not enough to make his memory fade. Her voice made all of the feelings crash to the front of his mind. “Hi Chance. I‟m back from Vegas” Soft and hesitant, she continued. “How are those numbers looking?” “Good. When did you get back?” He knew she‟d been right about Vegas. At least, the first night, she‟d been

36

right. He hadn‟t had a relationship with a woman in years. Sex, yes, but relationship, no. Since his father‟s death, he‟d moved around a lot. Carni‟s contract with his company was for one year. Their software was the best out there, but it still took a lot of convincing. They had extended the contract with ScanData verses going to their competitor under the condition he stayed, and they wanted to stretch it out again. The request for his extension came from the V.P. of Perishables himself, but Chance hadn‟t made a decision one way or the other. He would probably leave. She was right to tell him no the first time, but telling him yes was the problem. For both of them. “About an hour ago.” “So, you came straight to the office? You didn‟t take a day off?” He was annoyed at the way she treated herself. “No. But I could use some sleep,” she sighed. “I knew you‟d come straight to work from the plane. You really should have taken a day off. At least a half day. You don‟t have to be here all of the time.” He took a breath. “Anyway, I sent you an email about fifteen minutes ago.” “Chance, you don‟t have to worry about me. Thank you for the reports. I‟ll take a look and stop by if I have any questions.” “Sinclair...” “Yes.”

37

Silence filled the phone lines. “Sinclair, about Veg—” “Hey, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas…right?” “So, I‟ll just wait to hear from you.” “Yes, I‟ll stop by as soon as I look at everything.” “In that case, I guess I‟ll prepare to stay until what...about midnight,” he said playfully. “Midnight...maybe more like one or two in the morning. You might as well grab a cot and a blanket.” “You mean two cots, right?” he asked. “Yeah, right. Two.” “I‟ll be waiting.” “Okay.”

Chance stared at his wristwatch. Six-thirty. He should‟ve left an hour ago. All day he‟d worked on software upgrades. His chair squeaked as he leaned back to stretch out his body. Checking the time again, he realized Sinclair hadn‟t been around. Quickly, he dialed her extension, 7-4-3-1. No answer. The numbers on the report were self-explanatory. She didn‟t really need

38

him to explain them. Standing as he shut-off his computer, he heard a light tap on his door. “Come in,” said Chance as he walked toward the door. The door opened before he reached it. Sinclair stood in the doorway. “Your door has been closed all day. Is it too late?” Jet-lagged, and beautiful. Her blonde locs were pulled back into a bun. Her tiny metal burgundy glasses rested on her nose. Her solid frame was accentuated by the wine-colored wrap dress she wore. He fought against the urges inside of him telling him to grab her, pull her inside, lock the door and let her know it was not too late. Instead, he said, “Oh, no. Sorry, you should‟ve knocked. I had to upgrade my programs. I needed some quiet.” Soft furrows in her forehead softened as she said, “Oh. The IT guys don‟t do that for you.” “No, my software is from my company. It‟s different, but anyway you know you‟re my favorite customer. I could‟ve used the break.” Her creamy pecan hued cheeks reddened. “If I keep you a minute past seven-thirty then dinner‟s on me.” Chance watched as her full-lips curved into a subtle bowed grin. The plum lipstick she wore emphasized her lips; they looked ripe and perfect for tasting.

39

And he remembered how they tasted. “Deal. But you know I‟m an expensive date.” “So, you mean the gas station down the street isn‟t good enough?” she said through broken laughter. “What? That‟s some of the best food around. Have you had their rotisserie chicken? And they even serve it to you in little frying pans.” Chance cupped his hands together simulating the size of the pan as he gestured toward Sinclair. “Sad.” Sinclair‟s drooped head shook back and forth in mock denial. “I‟ve seen you over there a few times. Don‟t try to fake it.” “Okay, I admit I‟ve crept over there a few times for the fantastic free movies. You know, get lost.” How often had she needed to „get lost‟? “So, you‟re inviting me to dinner and a movie?” “I think I can afford that. The reports you sent me look great.” She followed him across his office to his grey aluminum desk. “Shifting the extra stock around to the other stores was perfect.” “Do you have the print out or should I turn on my computer?” “I have them here.” She showed him the papers she held at her side. Chance motioned for her to sit. He stood behind her as he went through the numbers on the report. Standing behind her was a bad idea. His eyes drifted to

40

her cleavage. The silky textured fabric lay snug against her breasts hiding them from him. With a tap against her elbow, he raised her hands and the papers in them in an effort to divert his attentions. Dragging his finger across the paper, he said, “Take a look here. The closer we get to the big college towns the higher the sales. But in the smaller community college areas, we‟re still doing well moving the national college product.” “Exactly. We‟ll have to look at the split of our next buy. I‟ll need more of the national product in the smaller towns.” “We could test it in a few stores if you want.

Food is easy. You have

everything: plates, clothing, DVDs, etc. It can be tricky, but I think it would work.” “Testing it would be good. I don‟t want to run with it chain-wide and have poor numbers again.” “I understand.” She flipped through her papers as she mumbled, “Yeah, too many eyes watching.” “You know if you ever feel like too many eyes are watching...like you need to „get lost‟ I like getting lost. In fact, some might say it‟s my specialty.” “Your specialty? Who says that? Women?”

41

For a year and a half, Chance had worked as an on-site consultant for Carni‟s. He liked being in the field. If he worked in the corporate office for his company—Scan Data—back in Long Island, New York he‟d probably be dealing with the same crap. But moving around to different off-site locations he didn‟t have to deal with it. He hated the crabs trapped in a barrel mentality, each one clawing over the other one to reach the top. For what, just to be eaten. “Jealous?” “What do you mean?” “I mean I gave you a chance.” “A chance to see your disappearing act first hand.” A flicker of remembrance crossed her face casting a quick shadow. The sadness. The pain. The desire. Who knows? He lifted her chin. Her lips met his, and he kissed her. He spun her around in the chair to face him, and he kissed her again. Only because he ran out of breath did he pull away. “So, what‟s for dinner?” She blinked, and focused on the clock. “Aw, come on, it‟s seven forty-six.” “Yes, that‟s sixteen minutes past seven-thirty. Fifteen more minutes than one.” “You‟re going to hold me to that?” “Yep. Besides, I would‟ve helped you out without the bribe. But you offered

42

and I accepted.” Chance turned, and flicked the light switch throwing the small beige office into darkness. The office building‟s lights had already begun their nightly shut off routine. “Yeah, yeah.” He reached for her in the darkness, and pulled her to him. “You‟re a woman of your word, right?” His chin brushed against the top of her hair. He inhaled. He didn‟t know what the scent reminded him of...coconut maybe. “Always.” “Well, then?” He led her toward the door with his hand around her wrist. “Okay, let‟s go. I can‟t be out all night with you. My boyfriend might get jealous.” “Boyfriend!” The surprise in his voice couldn‟t be controlled. “Jealous?” Her small almond shaped eyes danced playfully in the subdued lighting. “Why would I be jealous?

Do you see all of the women falling over

themselves to knock on my door every day?” Chance waved his free arm around in the air as if there were an audience. “But I chose who I want.” “There may be many, but none of them is me.” She removed his hand from

43

her wrist, and walked down the narrow hallway. He watched her full bottom sway from side to side underneath the flowing fabric as the distance between them grew. She was right.

Chance watched Sinclair load her plate with spinach, cucumbers, onions and pasta salad. He threw everything on the salad bar onto his plate, and then he followed her back to their table where they each had a petite skillet shaped plate waiting with their main entrees. Sitting across the table from her, he couldn‟t stop imaging the feel of her lips against his. The only reason he didn‟t strip her clothes from her body in Vegas was because she was drunk. “Chance, are you listening to me?” She stared at him over the rim of her water glass. “About Vegas.” She sat her glass back on the table. “I thought we settled that already.” “Were you tipsy or did I walk away for no reason? Just then, in my office, you didn‟t pull away.” Her hand rested on top of his. “I did have a few drinks, but I knew what I wanted.” “So, will I get that chance again?” “I think it might get too complicated.”

44

“Meaning, what? No?” They stared each other, neither moved or said anything. “Maybe when I leave here, we can keep in touch or something, but now is the wrong time.” “So, I missed my chance.” He stacked up empty plates and silverware. “You have your concerns, and I have mine. That doesn‟t mean we couldn‟t...” She stood, and rubbed her hands down the length of her body smoothing her dress as she did. “Couldn‟t what?” “I know this is a little confusing, but not acting on what we‟ve both been feeling could cause us just as many problems. While we‟re both here, we could keep each other company.” “So, sex?” “Not just sex. Companionship.” “Companionship?”

Scanning the room, her eyes landed on the sign

advertising the free movie of the evening. “Have you seen The Lost Boys?” Without finesse, she avoided his question. “Huh?” She wasn‟t ready, yet. Hell, he didn‟t know if he was ready for what he proposed. He followed her lead. “What the original?” he read the sign in disbelief. “Looks like it. It‟s a good one, even if it‟s old.” He held her hand and led her toward the rear of the restaurant through

45

tables filled with men of different races clad in soiled wrinkled clothing: jeans, tshirts, and jogging suits. Men passed them with keys weighted down with oversized chains attached to plastic nametags to unlock tucked away little laundry rooms, showers, and a small steam sauna. This place really did have everything a trucker needed. “Do you like horror movies?” “Not really, but I don‟t remember this one being too bad. And the guy with the black hair was cute.” “Really?” The theatre only had about twenty seats, and nearly every seat was taken. He found two together near the center, and guided her toward them. After they sat, he raised the armrest between them, pulled Sinclair close to his side, and sat back. He leaned in close to her ear, and whispered. “If you get scared, I‟ve got you.” She smiled up into his eyes, and whispered back. “I know.”

46

Chapter Three

Sharon, Sinclair‟s secretary, bit the left corner of her bottom lip while her fire engine red acrylics clicked at her keyboard. “Sharon, could you check with Cindy, Raquel and the other category managers to see if we can all meet tomorrow to go over next week‟s ad? I‟ve got some changes I‟d like to make.” “Sinclair, Hon, I don‟t think they‟ll be able to make it.” “No, why?” “Because of the meeting—” The flush of red slowly crawling up Sharon‟s neck to her face clued Sinclair of Sharon‟s mistake. Sharon‟s focus on the Excel spreadsheet she‟d been working on for hours had revealed something. But what? “Meeting?” “Uhh, yeah. Their monthly networking luncheon.” Pity hung in the air between the two women. “I‟ve never heard of—” Sharon had been kind to Sinclair. Too many times, Sinclair had apologized

47

to her for not attending one of her dinner parties or invitation to the movies. But she didn‟t want to be a charity case for her secretary or anyone else. Fifty-two, gray-haired and grandmotherly in a Dolly Parton sort of way Sharon didn‟t fear for her job or anything else when it came to Sinclair. In fact, she would even say Sharon actually liked her. And she knew Sharon loved her for teaching her new computer programs. The surprising information rang in Sinclair‟s ears. Unsure of how to handle it, she hid her emotions from her face. At least she hoped she did. “Check on the day after.” “Sinclair, Hon.” Sharon‟s voice begged. “Sharon, I‟ve got a meeting in a few minutes. That‟ll be the last one for me today.” Head high, Sinclair turned on her heels and stomped toward her next meeting. “You can head out early if you like.” “Thank you. But I‟ll set up the meeting before I leave.” “Great. See you tomorrow.” Hours later, Sinclair roamed through the tables at the Firehouse Restaurant until she found her favorite spot. It was empty; she slid onto the chair, and flipped open her book. “Sinclair.” Startled, she snapped her head up from the book she‟d been trying to finish

48

for weeks. The quick action bounced her glasses on her nose and knocked her long, thin, blonde dreadlocks off her shoulder. “Chance.” His huge dimpled smile warmed her. It took the edge off of her day. The aquamarine colored shirt he wore enhanced the intensity of his stare. Sinclair glanced over every curve of muscle under the fabric of his cotton shirt. When her gaze reached his black, studded belt buckle resting on his hips, she jerked her eyes back to his. “I hope I‟m not disturbing you, but I saw you wandering around the restaurant—” He pulled out a chair, and sat. “—I thought you might be looking for someplace to sit. But I see you found one.” She followed his head as he motioned in the direction of a large booth across the room. “Always looking out for me, huh?” At 5'4" tall, and 160 pounds she could fit the small pub table, but Chance‟s larger 6'2" frame couldn‟t. He searched for a comfortable position; his granite legs banged against hers. “Chance, maybe we should move to your booth?” He sprang from his tiny chair, and assisted Sinclair with hers. They moved through the renovated fire station‟s narrow aisles across the restaurant to Chance‟s larger booth, Sinclair focused on the table and ignored the

49

awed stares and muted voices of the other restaurant patrons. Why were they staring anyway? Every other couple she saw was interracial. “You think they all think we‟re the most beautiful couple in the room or what?” She couldn‟t stop laughing as she slipped into the booth. “So, it wasn‟t just me.” “No. It was you. Do you own a mirror?” “I own several mirrors.” “Then you know it was you.” He slid in beside her, and stretched out his legs underneath the table. “Now, this is much better.” “Maybe or maybe it was you.” “Me. So, you‟re jealous again?” Sinclair buried her nose in the menu. She‟d eaten at the Firehouse a million times, but never with Chance. She could handle the stares. As an outsider, it happened a lot since she‟d moved to Harrisburg—restaurants, clubs, or the grocery store.

But she had to admit she noticed all of the women staring at

Chance. She wasn‟t jealous, but she didn‟t like it. “No, I‟m not jealous again.” “Umm. Well, I was.” She followed Chance‟s glare toward a table of men beside their booth. The men picked up their conversation, and focused waved over a waitress. “You should‟ve called me to let me know you needed an escort tonight.

50

What man wouldn‟t want you on his arm?” “Chance, you are too much.” “I‟m serious.” “I wasn‟t sure I was coming here. I just didn‟t feel like going home.” “Rough day?” “No, it‟s just...you know how it is.” His arm fell from the back of the bench. He tugged at one of her locs nearest him. “Tell me.” Sinclair sank into the cushions of the booth behind her. “I‟m the new girl on the block. I guess its part of the package.” “What do you mean?” He dropped his menu to the table as he waited for her answer. “Chance, I don‟t know if you would understand.” She averted her eyes attempting not to let him see tears behind her glasses. “Why wouldn‟t I?” “I don‟t know.” She didn‟t want to sound like some crazy paranoid person. “What do you mean you don‟t know? “Today was a long day. That‟s all.” “Sinclair, you‟ve got to know you can trust me. After everything.” He tugged on that same loc. Wrapping it around his finger.

51

His eyes showed hurt and anger. Was it aimed at her? “I know, but can you understand how it is for me. I‟m one of only three Black women with a manager‟s title. The only Category Manager. One is in accounting, and the other is the Manager of Diversity. I‟m trying to fit in, but I don‟t think it‟s working.” The waiter returned to the table. Chance ordered grilled chicken salads for both of them with Sinclair‟s approval. The anger she held back earlier rose up. Tears filled her eyes. Chance reached for her hand resting on her lap. He cupped it inside of his. “Why?” A tear fell, she sniffed, and sighed. “Today, I found out the other women category managers have a monthly network meeting. But I‟ve never been invited.” “What! I‟ve never heard of it.” “Me either, at least not until today when Sharon let it slip.” His hand moved from her hair to her tears. He brushed them from her cheeks. “Sinclair, I don‟t know what to say.” She shook her head. “There‟s nothing to say. You didn‟t do it.” His fingers softly stroked the back of her hand. “I hope you don‟t think everyone is like them.” “I know everyone‟s not, but I don‟t seem to be able to break through the

52

barriers.” “Well, you‟ve got me.” It had taken him some time before he felt accepted by the people of Central Pennsylvania and Carni‟s. People didn‟t trust him right away. Even though he worked for Scan Data, they wanted to be sure he didn‟t want their jobs. He never had a problem with women, but if he wanted to hang out at a sports bar, or grab a drink he ended up doing it alone or with his pal Craig. He didn‟t like seeing her in pain. “I guess so.” She smiled weakly. She looked exhausted, and sad. He wanted to see her smile, he didn‟t know what it‟d take, but he knew he‟d do it. “Anytime you need some company give me a call. I don‟t mind being your emergency date.” “Date? This is not a date.” “Not a date. The two of us are here in a restaurant. There‟s food. What would you call it?” “Hey, we just bumped into each other.” “Sure. A date.” He couldn‟t stop himself from laughing as he watched the panic-stricken look on her face grow. “It‟s okay, I won‟t tell anybody if you don‟t,” he whispered.

53

Slowly her sad expression was replaced by a pensive smile. “What am I going to do with you?” “I‟ve got some ideas.” Her desert sand complexion darkened. She dropped her head, and her golden dreadlocks hid her face. Brushing her hair away, he placed his hand underneath her chin raising her head, guiding it back to meet his gaze. “Don‟t do that.” “What?” “Hide your face from me. I was just joking. Well, a little. You know I‟m attracted to you. Walking away from you in Vegas was hard. Nothing for me has changed, but I explained that at dinner the other night.” “I know. And Vegas was hard for me, too.” She grabbed his hand under her chin to move it, but instead, she just held on. “We don‟t need to talk about it here.” Her eyes darted over the room. “And, I wasn‟t hiding. You caught me off guard that time.” “Why do you care so much about other people? I don‟t.” “I just need this job. I need it to finish my M.B.A. I don‟t want to complicate things.” “Complication. You use that word a lot?” He knew what she meant, but he didn‟t want to hear it. In fact, it pissed

54

him off. “Come on Chance, stop it. Please,” pleaded Sinclair. “Yeah, yeah okay. You know what…change of subject. Some friends and I are going to play paintball in a few weeks. You should come along.” He was angry, but what was he going to do about it? He didn‟t plan on being in Harrisburg much longer anyway. But his body and his mind were having a hell of a fight. Relief flooded her face. “Paintball? Do I look like the paintball kind of girl?” “You should think about it. It‟s a lot of fun.” “Really? I don‟t know. Maybe.” “It‟s a good way to let off some steam.” “Now, I‟m interested.” “Okay.” After the waiter came to their table for the second time to let them know the restaurant was closing, Sinclair boxed her uneaten food, and they left. “Are you sure you don‟t want me to follow you home?” “I‟m sure.” “Thanks for the date.” “This wasn‟t a date,” she said with less surety in her voice. If she was honest with herself, this was the second best date she‟d had since

55

she moved to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. In front of him in the underground parking lot, Sinclair once again lost herself in her thoughts. She‟d never even considered dating a white guy before, unless she counted Brad Pitt, Keanu Reeves, Jude Law, and of course Colin Ferrell. Okay, maybe a few. Chance O‟Malley would give all of them a run for their money. But he was not what she left Georgia to find. Although her parents were sixty plus years young, she wanted to be able to take care of them. Her parents spent most of their money on her and her Grandmother. Their small soul food restaurant—Cornbread Kitchen—was all they had. She was in Pennsylvania because of them. “Okay, so let‟s agree to disagree. I see it as a date, and you don‟t. In fact, it‟s our second date. If we don‟t count Vegas. What should we call it?” “What?” “Yeah, you treated me to dinner and a movie the other night, remember. And tonight I bought yours. And there was Vegas.” “Vegas…forget it. And neither occasion was a date...then or now,” she protested. “Okay, whatever. I know the truth,” he smiled. “Yeah, so do I.”

56

He leaned in towards her. She jumped backwards, and bounced off her car door into his cement stomach. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Yes, just—” His stare locked onto hers. In that moment, she couldn‟t remember why she‟d said no to him about anything. The only thing she wanted was for him to always look at her the way he did at that moment. He wanted her, and she could feel it. “Just what? Nervous?” Not nervous. Aroused. “—Nothing. I‟ve really got to go. I‟m tired.” In retreat, she opened her door and eased behind the wheel. She watched him in her rearview mirror as she drove away. Her high beams didn‟t do much for the dark highway. At any moment, she expected a deer to dart across the road in front of her, stop, point and laugh at her and the deer whistle. The flashing orange signs ahead leaped out of the darkness. The orange cones blocking off the exits leading up to hers were strewn across the road like an obstacle course. She focused on distinguishing between the paved road and the rocky dirt shoulder. At her exit, she drove through a gap in the cones. Instantly, she felt the right

57

side of her car leave the paved road. Her car slid to a stop. Stuck half on, and half off the unpaved road the wheels of her VW Bug spun pointlessly when she stepped on the gas. It was nearly midnight, and she didn‟t know when she could expect another car to drive by. As her hazard lights faded, she continued to attempt to reach AAA. No answer. Harrisburg hated her. Nervously, she stepped out of her car. Checking the lock one last time, she headed toward 83 south. The echo of her shoes against the asphalt paced her thoughts; the black fabric of her pants swept against her ankles as she walked. Why did I move here? What was I thinking? I don’t know a sole. Someone could jump out of these trees and grab me. The bright lights from the oncoming vehicle blinded her; she jumped off of the road and fell to the ground. The red truck turned sharply away from her, and came to a dead stop. “Hello.” “Who‟s there?” she whimpered. “Sinclair?” “Yes,” she hesitated. “Chance?” “Sinclair, are you okay?” he asked getting out of his car. “I didn‟t see you

58

until the last minute. Why are you walking on the side of the road at night?” “Chance, why are you here?” “Going home. Why are you walking on the side of the road?” he repeated with irritation in his voice. The words tumbled out of her mouth. “My car. I ran off the road. It‟s stuck. I can‟t get AAA.” She bent and massaged her ankle with her hand. Chance‟s hands ran up and down her body. He gently squeezed while he examined her. “Can you stand? Are you hurt badly?” He didn‟t wait for a response. As she straightened he lifted her into his arms, and walked towards his truck.” “I can stand. I don‟t think I‟m hurt, just a few scrapes. I‟m okay.” “So, why were you rubbing your ankle?” Lowering her gently to her feet, he opened his car door and then he picked her up again placing her in the passenger seat. He drove his car next to where hers sat on the side of the road. He hopped out of the truck. He rounded his truck, stopped at the rear and searched until he found what he wanted, a flashlight. After a quick inspection of her car, he returned to his earlier position beside her. As he drove away, he said, “It should be okay overnight. I‟ll come back and get it in the morning. I‟ve got a friend who owns a tow truck company.” “I‟m canceling AAA in the morning.”

59

He took her cell phone. After typing in something he gave it back to her. “What did you do?” “Next time you need help, you call me. You‟re lucky I decided to take the highway. On a regular day, I drive through the city.” “Lucky? I can take care of myself.” “If so, then why were you stuck on the side of the road? And, I‟m not saying you can‟t take care of yourself. I‟m asking that you call me and let me know if you need help.” She felt like her father was chastising her. “You don‟t have to babysit me Chance.” “I‟m not trying to baby-sit anybody.” “I‟ll be alright. Next time I‟ll pay attention to what I‟m doing, and I won‟t run off the road.” “Sinclair, why do you make things so difficult?” “Now, I‟m difficult,” she replied, indignant. “The only thing I‟m trying to say is that I can be a friend.” “I don‟t need a friend. I needed AAA.” He didn‟t respond to her statement. “How does your ankle feel? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?” “No. If it feels worse in the morning I can get myself there.” She knew he

60

was just being nice, but she was mad, and he was there. Why did she move to Pennsylvania? “How?” “What do you mean, how?” Chance‟s eyes never left the road. “I mean, your car is on the side of the road, and you don‟t know anybody here.” “Have you ever heard of a taxi?” she said smartly. “Okay, okay, I give up. Where do you live?” “Hampton Hill Road off of Locust Lane.” “Sinclair, why are you so upset?” “I‟m not.” “You sound like you are,” he said. “Well, I‟m not.” Chance pulled the truck onto the side of the road; he put the car in park. His gaze never left hers. Softly, he said, “I know what it‟s like to be alone. My mother left when I was young, and my father...well my father died—he was stabbed a couple of years ago.” She‟d known him for how long, and she didn‟t know any of that. “Your mother left. Your father was stabbed.” “It‟s a long story, but I‟ve been on my own for a long time. So, I understand,

61

but you don‟t have to keep everybody at arm‟s length.” “I didn‟t mean to sound ungrateful.” The truth was she felt like a jerk. He‟d just picked her up on the side of the road. Aside from Sharon, he was her only friend. “I really am thankful.” “Don‟t worry about it.” “No, I mean—” “Really, it‟s okay. I‟ve been there.” “I‟m not worried about fitting in. I just want to do my job, and get out of here in a few months.” “Okay, but you can‟t tell me that while you‟ve been here that you haven‟t gotten a little lonely.” “I don‟t spend enough time here to get lonely. Every weekend, I go and visit some of my college friends in New York or D.C.” “So, you don‟t get tired of driving all around? Or of not having anybody here to spend time with?” “No.” “Then why were you so sad at dinner?” “I wasn‟t sad. I was angry.” “Well, maybe you‟re different from me because I got tired of it. She did, too.

62

“Chance, I—thank you for helping me out.” “Sinclair, if you give me a chance I could be a friend. Everybody needs a friend, but—” “I do not. At least not the kind of friend you‟re talking about. I don‟t want any problems at work. Remember the banquet. Do you want to have that every day at work?” “I don‟t really care what anybody thinks about me. I can‟t believe you do.” “I‟m here for a reason. I need to use this job as a springboard to the next thing. I don‟t plan on being here for very long.” “Me either.” What? Chance is leaving? “You‟re leaving? Where? When?” He turned from the road to face her. “Why?” He turned back to the road. “You don‟t want me in your bed or as a friend. Right?” A smile curved his lips. She turned to stare out a window as he drove. “I just thought that...” “Sinclair you know I‟m a contractor. I don‟t know if I‟m going to stay or not.” “If you leave, where will you go?” Questions rolled off of her tongue without her control. Chance placed a hand on her thigh. “I‟m not sure, yet.” Heat from the touch of his hand on her thigh conflicted with the pain from

63

her ankle. “Hmm.” “Sinclair...” She didn‟t want to hear anything else; she removed his hand from her thigh. “I understand, and you understand what I mean. I want to go back to Georgia. With the experience I‟ll gain from this job I‟ll be able to go back and maybe help my parents expand their restaurant. Maybe help them franchise.” Chance put the car in drive and pulled back into traffic. “Which condo is yours?” he asked as he drove into her condo community.” “809.” His truck idled in front of her condo. He exited the truck and rounded it to her door. His arms slipped underneath her body, and he hoisted her up. “You don‟t have to carry me inside. I can make it on my own.” “What‟s wrong? You don‟t want me to see the inside of your home? Is it really messy or something?” He laughed as he walked down the sidewalk towards her door. “No, it‟s just that there‟s no need.” “You really don‟t want to be alone with me, huh?” “What?” “Yeah, I think you‟re afraid you won‟t be able to control yourself if we‟re alone.”

64

“You are really cocky, aren‟t you?” “I think it‟s the truth. Just like before. You‟re scared,” he persisted. Her keys clanged against each other as she opened the door. “I am not scared of you.” She repositioned herself in his arms. “I think you are.” “Oh, please,” she said rolling her eyes. As he walked across the carpeted living room towards her overstuffed couch, he said, “That‟s all you‟ve got to say?” “Yeah.” Cautiously, he lowered her to the couch. Hovering over her, he asked, “Does your leg still feel okay?” He propped her ankle up on a pillow, and handed her the remote control for her television. She reached down to massage her ankle. “It‟s throbbing a bit, but I think it‟s fine.” He walked into the kitchen grabbed a glass and filled it with water. “Do you need anything else: a massage, icepack or warm bubble bath?” He handed her the glass of water. “I hope you say bubble bath.” “No. I‟m fine.” “Call me if you need anything no matter how late.” “Chance, I‟m not going to wake you up for anything.”

65

“I‟ll have your car checked out and brought into work in the morning. Will you need a ride? I can pick you up.” “I thought you lived on the other side of the river?” The Susquehanna divided everything in Harrisburg. “No, I live on this side of the river.” “Oh. I didn‟t know.” “You never asked.” “It seems there‟s a lot about you I didn‟t know.” She motioned toward the glass of water. “Thanks again for everything, but I should be able to manage.” “If you need me, you‟ve got my number.” She waved her cell phone in the air. “Yes.” He hesitated at the front door. “I could spend the night, and leave in the morning.” “You don‟t have to do that. I promise I will call you in the morning if I can‟t handle it.” “Just don‟t try to use this as an excuse not to go with me next weekend.” “Huh?”

She hadn‟t really taken his invitation seriously.

“Oh, yeah

paintball,” she smiled as she rubbed her ankle. “This pain might get worse.” “Sooner or later you won‟t have any more excuses.” “Maybe, but then neither would you.”

66

Chapter Four Paintball. “Eight o‟clock in the morning on a Saturday. You cut into my sleep time. How did I let you talk me into this Chance?” “It‟s only fair.” “Fair?” “Yeah, because of you I‟ve had some nights with no sleep.” “No sleep? I‟m sure those nights had nothing to do with me.” “Now, how are you going to tell me about my sleepless nights?” asked Chance. “I haven‟t had any sleepless nights.” She lied. “I‟ve been working late or coming in early with you. So, why have your nights been sleepless?” His delectable smile signaled Sinclair of his corporeal thoughts. “Never mind, I don‟t want to know.” “Then I won‟t tell.” Chance pointed towards the top of a hill. “My friends are already at the equipment stand.” A grass covered hill, studded with tent roofed tables bustled with activity. Twenty or more people suited out in helmets and colorful camouflage padded gear

67

from their chests to their legs stood or sat at long wooden tables. When they reached one of the tables, Chance said, “Everyone, this is my friend, Sinclair.” Routinely, she scanned the grouping of pale faces for reactions. First reactions always told her a lot. Frowns or stares at her dreadlocks normally signaled her of anyone‟s immediate disapproval. Smiles and friendly voices greeted her in unison. “Hi, Sinclair.” A tall, thin guy wearing glasses approached her. “Hi, I‟m Craig. Craig Jamison. Chance has told me a lot about you.” She cocked her head towards Chance. “Really? Like what?” Chance whispered into her ear, “I told him you can‟t keep your hands off of me.” “Chance!” gasped Sinclair. She elbowed him in the ribs. Doubling over in mock pain, Chance massaged his side. “Just kidding. I told him you‟re new in town.” Craig chimed in. “He told me you‟re from Georgia. I worked there for a few years for one of the local grocery store chains as a web manager.” “Why‟d you leave?” she asked. “The people were nice, but I didn‟t have family there. I like a little family around.”

68

“Yeah, me too,” she agreed. Craig continued. “Do you think you‟ll stay here for awhile?” Chance and Craig waited silently for her reply. “No. I like my job.” Not all of the people. “But I‟m like you. I like a little family around, too.” “You two keep talking. I‟ll get your gear, Sinclair.” Chance scanned her full figure. “I think I know what you need.” He gave her a wink. “You think you know what I need?” She knew what she needed too, him. “Yeah, but I‟m not sure about the helmet.” “Okay.” Sinclair noticed several of the women in their group and at other tables watched Chance walk to the equipment stand. Tight butt, rock hard thighs, and an incredibly sexy smile, she knew exactly what they were looking at. The same thing she‟d imagined while sitting in a warm bubble bath listening to jazz. The same thing she‟d wrapped her arms around, ran her hands across, and had taken her breath away. Raquel Dickinson, even in military style camouflage looked as if she‟d stepped off a runway. Slim but shapely, she sashayed over to Chance while he waited on their gear. After saying something into his ear, she returned to her table of friends. The anger on Chance‟s face registered to Sinclair where she stood.

69

Anger boiled inside of her as she remembered racing from her hotel room after Chance in Vegas to find that Raquel had gotten there first. The heifer was probably reminding him of their night together. Maybe it‟s okay to shoot someone between the eyes with a paintball gun. “Sinclair?” Quietly, Craig stood beside her observing. “I‟m sorry Craig. I was distracted.” “No problem,” he shrugged. “What did you say?” she asked. “Chance told me you guys work some long hours.” “Yeah. Do you work at Carni‟s, too?” “I used to, but now I work for one of the local credit unions as a web director.” “Oh, do you like it?” “It‟s good. I travel a lot.” “Really? Where?” “Last year, I went to Hawaii.” “I‟ve never been, but I‟ve always wanted to go.” Sinclair‟s thoughts strayed away from Craig and back to Chance. “Craig, does Chance know Raquel well?” “Huh? Raquel?”

70

She‟d turned her back on Chance to face Craig,

pointing toward the

equipment booth. “Yeah, Raquel, the red head that just spoke to Chance.” Hesitantly, he said, “From work. You know.” The sound in Craig‟s voice told her what she needed to know. “Oh, I get it.” “Uh, No. I mean. It‟s a work thing. Her father is the V.P. of Perishables, Michael Dickinson.” She didn‟t notice Chance‟s return.

“What about Michael Dickinson.”

Chance glared at Craig. “I asked Craig a question that‟s all.” “A question about what?” Chance‟s eyes locked onto Sinclair‟s. Sinclair reached for some of the gear Chance had draped over his arms, and walked to a nearby bench with an empty spot. “Nothing important. So, show me what to do with all of this stuff.” “I will leave you two alone. We‟re going to divide up into teams in a minute,” Craig said over his shoulder as he rushed away. “Sinclair, what‟s up?” Chance paused. “What was your question?” Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “Nothing really.” Seated, she focused on shifting the gear he brought her around on her lap. “We were having a conversation about Raquel.”

71

“Raquel works with us.” “I know. That‟s not what we were discussing.” Chance shuffled some of the gear in his hands. “She didn‟t have anything important to say. She thinks the world revolves around her. If her father wasn‟t a V.P., she wouldn‟t have a job.” “Isn‟t her father the one that took you to Vegas? The one that extended your contract, and personally requested you stay again?” asked Sinclair. “Yes, but...” “But what? You do not have to explain anything to me. I get it.” He’s just a friend. After tightening her pads to her body, he placed several different helmets on her head until one fit snugly. Chance lifted her visor. “Sinclair, I know what you‟re thinking. But, there‟s nothing else going on with Raquel.” “Chance, really you don‟t have to explain anything to me.” “Then why do you keep asking questions?” ”It won‟t happen again. I shouldn‟t be so nosy.” “Next time, if you have a question. Ask me.” He flipped the visor down, covering her eyes. “How does the helmet feel?” “Fine, I guess.”

72

He grabbed her hands, and pulled her from her seat on the bench. “Okay, let‟s go. We‟ll make sure you‟re on my team so I can watch you.” “Watch me?” “Yeah, I‟d hate for you to get hurt on my watch?” “You think I can‟t do it?” Sinclair said with irritation. “I didn‟t say that. You‟re always in heels and...” He took hold of Sinclair‟s hand. “...look at these manicured nails.” She yanked her hand out of his. “So, you think I‟m some prissy girl like your Barbie girlfriend?” He took her hand again and squinted at her nails as he flipped her hand over in his own. Comparing their sizes. “I don‟t want to be blamed if you break a nail.” “Okay, I‟m on the other team. And you better watch your back.” “And if my team wins, what do I get?” “What do you want?” Sinclair asked. “I‟ll tell you when I win.” His thin lips curled into a sensuous smile. “Goodness boy, is that all you think about?” Chance reached for her waist, and pulled her close. “No. But I do think about being with you. I know you think about being with me.” Sinclair wiggled away from him. “I think about a lot of things.”

73

“Me?” asked Chance. “Why do you keep doing this to me?” Sinclair readjusted her pads. “Do what? Ask questions?” “No, put me on the spot.” “You don‟t have to answer now, but soon,” insisted Chance. “Yes,” said Sinclair. “Yes, what?” “Yes,” said Sinclair as she walked towards Craig‟s team. The morning dew hadn‟t seeped into the soil. The grass beneath her sneakers squeaked. But nothing was loud enough to block the sound of her heart pounding. “Craig, who‟s team am I on?” she called out. Wide-eyed, he said, “I thought you‟d be on Chance‟s team?” “No, I‟ve been challenged. Who‟s on your team? Is there room for me?” “There‟s room.” “Great. So, what do we do now?” She placed her right hand on her hip, and waited for a response. “Here, take a look at this map.” He spread a map of the paintball course out on the table in front of them. “We are here,” Craig pointed to a highlighted area on the map. “We‟re going to do all four courses. The first one is the easiest. But they get harder. And people get crazy by the end. They‟ll jump out on you from all

74

over.” “What do you mean?” “Military style. Kamikaze style. There are a lot of bunkers and stuff. Great places to hide. The last course is my favorite.” smiled Craig. The thought of worming her way through brush on her stomach splattered in mud dodging worms and other bugs clinching a paint gun sent a shiver of disgust down her spine. “So, I‟ve got to crawl around on my belly and stuff.” “Don‟t worry, it‟s not that bad. There aren‟t any big mud pits or anything.” “Oh.” Thank God! “Just stick with me in the beginning, and when you‟re comfortable do your own thing. Just keep your head low.” “Why?” “You don‟t want anybody to get a good shot at you. If they hit you square on then you‟re out until we switch courses.” “Oh, got it.” She snapped the visor of her helmet closed. Gently, a hand slid from her shoulder down her arm to rest on her hip. “Sinclair.” She spun around to look into Chance‟s eyes. “Yes.” “I can‟t believe you‟re leaving me.”

75

“Are you scared?” she asked laughing softly. “Scared? I think I can handle it.” “Uh huh. We‟ll see.”

Squatting behind a tree, Sinclair couldn‟t believe she‟d almost made it to the end of a course. Raquel‟s pack of commandos had been gunning for her all day. Killed instantly during the first course Sinclair watched most of the round from the sidelines. Raquel Dickinson‟s undeniable fascination with Chance was nauseating. She stood quietly and listened as Raquel and her lipstick entourage cheered at Chance‟s every move. By the end of the third course, she grew tired of the cheer squad and was determined not to join them on the sidelines again. She was wrong. Counting the Barbie squad on the sideline, she‟d missed one girl. Veronica. Standing on the fringes of the course with the cheerleaders, she‟d learned the names of Raquel‟s two sidekicks, Veronica and Bridget. Unlike Bridget, stalwart and husky Veronica proved to be Sinclair‟s biggest competitor. Once again, Sinclair bided her time on the sideline until the third round ended. Waiting for their captains, the teams regrouped.

76

“Good luck, Sinclair.” Three words from the waxen, red haired Barbie put all eyes on Sinclair. “Sinclair.” Chance marched off the course toward Sinclair. “You ready?” “Definitely.” Locking onto Raquel‟s glare. Sinclair challenged her. “Thanks Raquel.” Chance wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her down the path to the fourth course. The feel of his arm around her body calmed her. “What did she say to you?” “Nothing, but your girlfriend‟s trying to kill me.” Sinclair griped. “Girlfriend?” “Yeah. Why else would she and her team of Barbies take me out first every time?” “I noticed them trailing you, but—” “But what?” She was more annoyed than she should be. “You need to control your women better.” Her words were harsh, but she was annoyed. “She‟s not my woman.” “She was your woman in Vegas.” “What?” “I saw you two on the elevator.” “What?” The frowns in his brow softened, and although his words were

77

terse, they were softly spoken. “Nothing happened in Vegas.” “You don‟t have to lie.” “Why would I.” He turned to walk toward Raquel and her crew. “You don‟t care. Remember.” “Whatever. Where are you going?” “To take care of this.” She reached out for his arm. “No, stop. If you want to help, help me win.” “Okay.” Standing in the middle of a patchy field of grass, Sinclair fantasized about the feel of his lips against hers again. How his arms wrapped firmly around her, as his hard body pressed hers into her mattress. What happened in Vegas definitely didn‟t stay. “What are you thinking, Sinclair?” Chance asked. “Huh?” She felt lost for words. Standing in the middle of a fake warzone holding onto Chance, all she could think about was going back to Vegas or at the very least taking him home. “You looked like you were thinking about something.” “No, nothing. Trying to figure out how I can beat these girls.” “Raquel and her group hang around me. Keep your eyes on me and I‟ll let you know what to do. Do you watch baseball?”

78

“Sometimes.” “Okay. Watch for my signals.” Parting ways, they walked to their respective teams. He kept his eye on Sinclair throughout the game. Several times he tested her to be sure she paid attention to his signals. She did. Sinclair called them Barbies. They did remind him of Barbies. Barbie meets G.I. Joe. They laid on their stomachs covered in muck shooting guns. At the end of each match they sat on the sidelines primping and cheering. Bridget had gone down effortlessly. Sanding the rust off his truck was easier than scrapping Veronica and Raquel off of his ass. Bracing against a rock at the edge of the field flanked by them he watched Sinclair stealthily slink between two medium sized Aspens. Cone-shaped seeds from the trees sprouted from the tips of her locs as if they belonged. He couldn‟t hear her words, but he read her lips. “Run.” He obeyed. Scurrying from his enshrouded position, Chance ran to a nearby tree. Raquel matched his pace narrowly escaping Sinclair‟s red pellet as it burst on the ground beside her leg.

79

“Ouch.” Hapless, Veronica dropped her gun, and clutched her paint stained arm with her left hand. “Veronica, I can‟t believe you were hit,” shouted Raquel. Chance and Raquel watched as Veronica sulked off the field. The sound of an acorn crunching grabbed his attention. Raquel‟s gaze followed his. Noiselessly, Sinclair approached them crouched behind a makeshift barricade. Regal, she stood in front of the couple. A burst of air released a single pellet; it whacked against Raquel‟s chest. Raquel smeared her hand in the red paint. She stared at it in disbelief. Shock then anger swept over her face. “You won this one, Sinclair.” Chance was left defenseless and trapped as Raquel lumbered toward her lipstick entourage. Chance imagined steam bellowing from Raquel‟s helmet. Sinclair raised her visor. “Tell me where you want it.” She winked at Chance. “Anywhere. Just don‟t hurt me,” he laughed. “I wouldn‟t hurt you...well, maybe just a little.” She smiled. “This means you win.” Her tongue darted out at the corner of her mouth. “Thank you,” she mouthed soundlessly.

80

Later, seated beside Chance at a tented table, she waited for the equipment return line to lessen. Stripping out of her paint stained clothing Sinclair still couldn‟t believe she‟d spent an entire day crawling around in the dirt. Dark purple and olive green bruises blanketed her arms and legs. Her protective camouflage hadn‟t done much for her. Painfully, she snapped the pants over her sneakers. Picking at some of the paint on her shoe, she asked, “Chance is this paint washable.” He stared at her shoes. “No.” “You owe me a pair of shoes.” “Gladly. How about I pay you back with dinner.” “Dinner. I said shoes.” “How about a helicopter ride?” She stopped picking at the paint on her shoes, and looked at Chance in disbelief. “Helicopter ride? Do you ever listen?” “I‟m listening. Right now. Let‟s take a ride over the Susquehanna.” “I‟m sore and tired.” “The sun will be setting soon. It would be relaxing.” “No thanks.” “It wouldn‟t take long.”

81

“No,” insisted Sinclair. “Why not?” “I am tired, and I don‟t do heights.” “Why don‟t you try something different? Come on, give me your gear.” He took the ball of clothes and helmet from her arms. “Chance, really.” After returning their gear, Chance dragged her through the parking lot to his truck. “Chance, I can drive my own car.” “I don‟t trust you. You might go home.” “Who me?” she smiled. Standing at the passenger door, he waited for her to get in. “I swear. You act like I‟m going to run or something.” She struggled with the height from the ground to the truck. Chance twisted her around to face him, lifted her into the air. “Watch your head.” He plopped her in the seat. Buckling the seat belt across her, he said, “You would run away.” Wood, dirt, grass, air—he smelled like the outdoors. The stubble growing on his jaw line rubbed against her forehead as he pulled away from her. “Maybe. Where is this place? I look a mess. What are they going to think?”

82

“Don‟t worry about it. The pilot is a friend of mine.” “You know a lot of people.” He settled into the seat beside her. “I guess.” The short drive to the small, private airport went quickly. She barely had time to sift through Chance‟s programmed country music stations to the sole AM urban station. The scratchy reception forced her to listen to country music. “You don‟t like country?” “It‟s okay. Shania Twain, Faith Hill...somebody like that.” “You know country and hip hop have a lot in common.” “Yeah, I think all music has something in common.” “It‟s all about hardship, heartache, winning some or losing some.” “I know. But the stories are told so differently.” “That doesn‟t mean there isn‟t some neutral ground.” “But it makes it harder to find.” “So, you like things easy.” “No, I like things uncomplicated.” “What does that mean, Sinclair? Uncomplicated?” “That means aren‟t we here?” Sinclair scanned the small airfield for their helicopter. “Yes, we are here. But you didn‟t answer my question.

83

What‟s so

complicated?” “Chance, I thought we were going to fly around in a helicopter...not talk about anything—” “Anything like what?” “Which one of these things are we getting in?” She opened the truck door and hopped out. Chance stepped out, too. “Follow me.” When they stopped, she stood in front of a huge doorless monstrosity. “What is this?” “What do you mean?” “I mean...where are the doors?” “It gives you a better view.” As big as she could make the steps backwards, she did. Chance must be crazy. “What? No way. I‟m not getting in that thing.” Chance grabbed her by the arm. “Tom, this is my friend, Sinclair.” “Nice to meet you, Sinclair. I see you don‟t like helicopters.” “Well, I‟ve never been in one, but I thought it would have doors.” “The cabin has doors. But not today. We‟ve got seatbelts,” said the pilot through waves of belly laughter. “Will they stop me from falling to my death like doors?” she asked.

84

“You‟ve got a funny one today, Chance.” “Today, huh? Who‟d he have yesterday, Tom?” Tom‟s belly bounced up and down when he laughed. Chance reached out to her, and pulled her body into his. He whispered, “Do you care?” Breaking away, she said, “Never mind. I‟m here now. Show me what to do.” “Hop in. Tom and I will take it from there.” “You‟re trying to kill me.” “Would you prefer to be at home on your couch watching DVDs all night?” How’d he know? “Don‟t knock it.” “Scoot over.” He secured her seatbelt, then his own. He handed her a headset. “Here put this on.” He pointed to three buttons on the side of the one he wore. He pressed one of them. “Press this one to talk to Tom, this one for me, and this one for both of us okay.” Smoothly, quietly the helicopter‟s skids floated off the ground. “Oh, my God!” Her foot tapped against the floor. Reaching for Chance, she rested her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her. “It‟s okay.” He said through the headset. His voice soothed her. Wavering, she opened her eyes. Streaks of burnt orange reflected off the

85

shimmering river. Sycamore and White Oak trees dominated the river banks. As the helicopter flew over them, their branches shook as if waving. Fluidly pivoting right, the helicopter flew directly toward the sleeping sun. She pressed the button for everyone. “It‟s beautiful.” Chance‟s arm around her tightened; his lips brushed against her uncovered ear as he said, “I knew you‟d like it.” The swoosh of the helicopter blades made it hard to hear him even with his mouth so close or maybe it was the heat in her belly blocking out his words. She responded through the headset. “I thought it would be like a roller coaster. My stomach does flips on them...even airplanes.” He twirled her locs around his fingers as he brushed them away. Soft and silky his hair brushed across her forehead. “I don‟t know why you don‟t trust me.” Rocking her head back and forth she didn‟t say a word because she couldn‟t think of what to say. Maybe the paint fumes were getting to her. The intoxicating scent of his body mingled with the smells of the outdoors.

She wanted to

continue being touched by this warmth. He kept whispering reassuring words. “I‟m not a bad person, Sinclair.” “I never said you were.” She whispered back. Pressing the button for everyone, she said, “So, tell me what other woman Tom?” Tom didn‟t respond.

86

“You should admit you‟re jealous?” “No, why would I be jealous? I‟m curious. Is this part of your whole good guy seduction?” “Oh, so you think I‟m trying to seduce you?” The helicopter bounced, she squeezed his waist. “Sorry about that,” Tom‟s voice boomed into her ear. “Be careful, I‟m working with a rookie back here.” Chance‟s voice boomed through the headset. “OK.” said Tom. Chance turned his words, and his attentions back to Sinclair. “So, where were we? Oh, yeah, you think I‟m trying to seduce you.” “Aren‟t you?” “If I were...would it be a waste of time?” Heat traveled with his hand as it caressed her hip. “Chance—” Soft and warm his mouth pleaded with hers. His tongue wiggled across her lips until they parted. The taste of him flooded her with memories she‟d tried to forget. Her body was not letting her push them away. Every remembered touch heightened her need for him again. She sucked his top lip into her mouth, released it and took it

87

in again. Each kiss deepened until she forgot she was in the backseat of a helicopter flying above the Susquehanna River. His hand slid down her back, and cupped her butt. “Chance,” she said between kisses. He pulled her in closer to him breaking the kiss. “Yes.” “Chance, what do you really want from me?” He turned her face to meet his gaze. He removed her headset, then his own. He placed his hand over one ear, Sinclair, all I know is I want to be with you. I cannot lie to you about that. I wanted you before Vegas. While we were in Vegas. And I still want you now.” She copied his moves, and placed her mouth next to his ear. “I know, but it‟s not something we can have.” “If we want it we can. What do you want?” “I don‟t know.” Where did the sun go? The sky had darkened to purple. A cool tranquil moon had replaced the radiant sun. “Is that all you have to say?” She rested her head back on his chest. “Yes. For now.” The swish of the helicopter‟s rotors drowned out her words and filled the otherwise still night air.

88

Chapter Five

The hushed voices outside of Sinclair‟s office door distracted her from her latest sales report. Closing her door would be rude, so instead she decided to go to her favorite spot at Carni‟s—her secret haven near the rear parking lot. No one ever sat at the patio tables flanking the rear lot. It was peaceful. After adjusting the multi-colored umbrella, she sat in one of the wicker chairs, took a sip of her cold green tea, and began to take a second look at her reports. “Hey, Sinclair.”

Chance cast a shadow across the table blocking out the

sun, but not its warmth. “What are you doing out here?” he asked. Nodding at the papers on the table in front of her, she answered, “I just wanted a little quiet to read over these numbers. Where are you coming from?” He pulled out one of the patio chairs and sat. “Some of the guys from my company came down to work on a project. We went out to lunch.” “Oh, it must have been important to get you to take a long lunch.” “Yeah, I guess.” Chance‟s voice changed; his eyes became serious. “Sinclair I

89

haven‟t seen or heard much from you lately. Is something wrong?” She stared at her papers, shuffling them around for no reason. “No, nothing‟s wrong. I thought maybe I—we needed a little space.” “Space from what?” He asked. Sinclair scanned the parking lot. “Chance, please not here.” “Okay, tell me where and when? You avoid me. I think you owe me some kind of explanation. Something more than the, we work together, excuse you‟ve been giving me.” As a silent reminder they were still at work, she tapped her papers on the table. For a moment, his gaze followed the motion of her pen on the papers before looking at her again. He leaned forward resting his forearms on the tabletop locking his hands together. The longer she gazed into his eyes, the hotter she felt. The temperature of her tea had dropped since she first sat, but she sipped it anyway in large noisy gulps to quench her sudden thirst. Yes, they needed to talk, but she really didn‟t want to do it at Carni‟s. “Chance. I have to finish these.” She tapped the pages on the table again. “But we could talk this weekend.” “Where?” The flat note to his voice hinted at no humor or patience. “Someplace public.” The words slipped out, and were followed by an awkward giggle. Unlacing his fingers, he leaned back in his chair. “You think that would

90

stop me.” “Honestly.” The nearly empty parking lot captured his attention. He dragged an index finger along his jaw. His profile offered no clues to his thoughts. He spoke without looking at her. “This weekend I‟ll call you. I‟ll find somewhere dark and out of the way so you won‟t have to worry about being seen by anyone we know.” Her hand went to her stomach. A weird heaviness there made her feel nauseous. “Chance that‟s not what I meant.” This time he faced her. Beautiful blue eyes that normally made her feel safe and comfortable contained no warmth. Words jumbled together in her mind, trying to form some sort of an apology, but she wasn‟t sure what she was ready to say. Trapped by his stare, she couldn‟t tear her eyes away. Old wicker creaked from years of neglect as he shifted his chair closer to hers. He leaned near her closing the remaining gap. Large hands wrapped around the fragile wicker of her own chair squeezing until his knuckles turned white. “Sinclair, you always do this. You act as if you‟re the only one trying to understand what‟s going on between us. I want to spend time with you, but you are so damn good at pushing me away. I know I‟ve done some things wrong, too, but we need to talk. No more games.” Without another word, Chance stood, and walked away.

91

“Hi Sinclair.” Sinclair didn‟t need to look up from her work to know who had entered her office without any sort of notice. Raquel‟s voice always seemed to have the same affect on her as nails on a chalkboard, and an alarm clock sounding off on a Saturday morning. Out of courtesy, Sinclair stopped typing to speak with her. “Hi Raquel. Can I do something for you?” Honeyed words offered an invitation. “No, I just wanted to invite you to my house for a cookout.” Raquel‟s wide-eyed angelic expression backed up her words. “Cookout.” Sinclair didn‟t know if she should laugh or take her seriously. “Sure. This Saturday.” Charades style, Raquel simulated hula dancers while she described the event. “We‟re going to have a luau theme. Pig roasting and everything.” “Saturday?” She‟d already set Saturday aside in her mind as the day for her talk with Chance, but he would understand her attending this event. Even if Raquel had a set-up of some kind in mind it might be a way to break down barriers between her and some of the other co-workers that she knew would be attending. “Can you make it?” asked Raquel. Sinclair offered her own sugary-coated words. “I think I can. That would

92

be great. Thanks for thinking of me.” “Fantastic. I‟ll email you all of the information including directions to my house.” “Okay. Thanks Raquel.” Warring smiles waited for a concession. It never came. Raquel wore her smile as she walked out of the office. As soon as she left, Sinclair picked up the phone and called Chance. She wanted to let him know, and tell him they‟d have to meet maybe next weekend. The phone rang, but no answer. She dialed his cell phone. Cool even tones greeted her. “Hello.” One simple word smacked her with that same nauseous feeling in her stomach. She tried to massage it away as she spoke. “Hi. It‟s Sinclair.” “Hello.” This time the pain was stronger. It wouldn‟t go away. Maybe he just couldn‟t hear her. “Can you hear me?” “Yes.” Maybe he was so angry with her that he‟d changed his mind. “Oh, I thought maybe you couldn‟t. Your voice sounds different.” She shook her head back and forth. “Nevermind. This weekend won‟t work because of the luau at Raquel‟s. Can we reschedule? Sunday or next weekend?”

93

“Yes. We‟ll talk about it later. ” “Okay, bye.” Sinclair hung up confused. She wanted to call him back, and ask him what was the cold act about, but she thought she already knew the answer. Her lunch might not have stayed down if they spoke again.

Chance stood; hung up his cell phone, and placed it back on his hip. Raquel loitered in front of his desk; her eyes didn‟t leave his lips the entire time he was on the phone. He would have to find Sinclair later to apologize for being so abrupt, but he knew she‟d understand when he told her Raquel was examining his tonsils every time he opened his mouth. “Look Raquel, I guess I can make it after all. My plans have been changed.” Her head cocked to one side, and slight almost indistinguishable grin curved her lips before it vanished. Green eyes sparkled. Why, he wasn‟t sure, but they did. Her eyes continued to shine as glossy pink lips asked, “Can you come early to help me with some of the set-up?” Leaning over his desk, she rubbed a hand up and down his arm. Her breasts nearly fell out of her loose-fitting blouse onto his desk. The image made him chuckle softly. He didn‟t think that was the affect she wanted to create. The wide-eyed doe gaze altered, not completely, but for a brief moment the real Raquel glared at him.

Sweet Raquel straightened her blouse,

94

stepped back, and said, “I could use your help with some of the set-up. Some of the deliveries have to be handled by me because of a stupid mix-up.” He knew there was a catch, but Sinclair would be there, so what did it really matter. He leaned back, and said, “What time?” “Around Noon.” “Okay.” After Raquel left, Chance walked to Sinclair‟s office. It was empty.

Hickory scented smoke flooded Sinclair‟s car through the open driver‟s side window as she neared Raquel‟s home. She parked on the sun bleached pavers at the back of the house. Raquel had told her noon, but due to a deadline she was late. It was 2:00P.M., but there weren‟t many cars, yet. As she walked up the stone paved walkway, she was relieved to see a small crowd. Slowly, the spit holding a hundred pound gutted pig turned; roasting it evenly over the fire in the hole beneath it. The crowd gathered watched the spectacle, and talked over the music at each other in amazement. Sinclair spotted Veronica and Bridget in the crowd as well as Sharon and other people from the office. Craig was also there. Bridget‟s laughter and Craig‟s focus on her as they spoke would be apparent to anyone that took the time to notice.

95

Craig‟s presence meant Chance was close. Sinclair scanned the yard for a sign of him. She tapped Craig on the shoulder. “Hi Craig.” “Hey Sinclair, I didn‟t know you were coming.” “Hi Sinclair,” said Bridget. “Hi Bridget.” Sinclair focused on Craig. “I didn‟t think I‟d make it.” “Really? Why? You‟re early. We came early to help with set-up. It doesn‟t start until 3:00P.M.” “Hmm. Really?” questioned Sinclair as she glared at Bridget. She knew there was some sort of angle to Raquel inviting her, but she still couldn‟t figure it out. Bridget avoided her gaze. She watched as she dug the heel of her left sandal into the dirt. A cluster of little circles destroyed plugs of grass. “Yeah. This thing goes into the night.” Craig‟s face lit up. “I—we‟ve helped her with set-up before.” His face turned an odd shade of pinkish red as he removed his glasses and wiped at them with the tail of his t-shirt. Sinclair understood who was included in we. Chance. But she had no claim on him, now, and she certainly had no claim then. “Have you seen our hostess, Craig? I‟d like to let her know I made it. I don‟t know how long I‟ll stay.” “No. At least, I‟m not really sure.” He focused harder on the unseen dirt on his glasses. “I saw her earlier somewhere. She should be out here soon.”

96

Veronica made her way into their three-point discussion, and she seemed to know exactly what they‟d been discussing. “I think I saw her over by the racquetball court.” She pointed towards the right side of the mini-mansion. “Okay, thanks Veronica.” “Hey Sinclair the roasted pig is almost done. They‟re going to carve it soon. Don‟t you want to wait for one of the first pieces?” asked Bridget. Veronica bumped against Bridget‟s shoulder. She smiled. “Thanks for the warning; I don‟t eat beef or pork. I‟ll check the kitchen for something and hunt down Raquel.” “Oh, okay.” Bridget‟s soft words floated behind Raquel as she turned toward the house. Sinclair wandered through Raquel‟s house marveling at each immaculately placed antique. It felt like the home of an eighty year old, not a twenty something. She found her way to the kitchen, and spotted some crab salad she could nibble on. After grabbing a bottle of water she ventured out to find the racquetball court. Exiting a side door, Sinclair stepped back into the heat of the late summer. Rounding the side of the house, she interrupted two people using one of the benches on the side of the racquetball court as a bed. Choking on a mouthful of water, she apologized.

“Oh, I‟m sorry.”

Embarrassed, she stumbled backward. She fought the urge to cover her eyes with

97

her hand like a school girl. “It‟s okay.” She would know the voice anywhere. “Raquel, I-I was looking for you.” Her gaze jumped to Raquel‟s companion. “Chance!” She couldn‟t hide her shock. “Sinclair!” he righted himself, slid to one corner, and pushed Raquel to the other. “Sinclair, I‟m glad you could make it.” Raquel rose from the bench and walked toward Sinclair. Using her thumb, and forefinger, she wiped the corners of her mouth erasing peach smudges. Chance sprung from the bench. He reached Sinclair first. Her hand was not big, but she pressed her palm against his chest holding him away from her. If he wanted, he could easily challenge her, but he didn‟t. She lowered her hand, and peeked around him. “Raquel, I wanted to thank you for inviting me. Your home is absolutely lovely.” Raquel stood on the other side of Chance smiling as she fondled her clothing and ran her long dagger-like fingers through her hair. “Thanks Sinclair. I am so glad you could make it.” “I thought I was late, but I see I was early.” Her gaze drifted back and forth between the two. Raquel‟s innocence played against Chance‟s confusion. She didn‟t know which made her angrier, but she was pissed. Punching Raquel and

98

slapping Chance were her only thoughts. “No. No problem at all. You were right on time.” “I can‟t stay, but I wanted to come through, and say thank you.” If she stayed longer, she might kick, and bite, too. “Even if it was only for a moment, I‟m glad you could make it,” said Raquel smiling. “I guess I‟ll see you both at work Monday.” “Yes, you‟ll see us both,” Raquel said contently. Chance tried to speak again, but Sinclair wouldn‟t let him. She didn‟t want to hear anything he had to say. “Enjoy the cookout.” She turned and walked away. The figure flattering yellow sundress disappeared around a corner. Raquel had begun to follow in the same direction as Sinclair. Her audience waited. He spun Raquel around to face him. He wanted to shake the life out of her. “Damn Raquel, what did you do?” Shock then anger showed on her face. “What did I do?” One of her razor sharp finger nails pierced his chest emphasizing each word. “I just wanted your little girlfriend to see how you really are.” He released her, and took a step back. “How I really am? What does that mean?” Flip-flop clad feet stomped, and fingers pointed in an accusatory manner as

99

she yelled. “You don‟t care who you are with. For the last year, you came here when I wanted you. Now, she‟s here, and you ignore me.” She spat the last words as if they tasted bad. “So, what? I told you we wouldn‟t be doing our thing anymore. I told you that before Sinclair.” The two-year old temper tantrum flared again. “Because of my father, you have a job.” Pissed at her statement, Chance matched her scream. “What? That‟s not true. I chose to stay here. Your father has nothing to do with anything.” Raquel slapped him. “Don‟t treat me like I‟m some piece of trash.” “Raquel, I‟m tired of this. I came to help you. We‟ve been over. It had nothing to do with Sinclair. I have a few beers, you say the right things, touch the right spots and we end up on the bench. I can own up to it, but what‟s wrong with you? Why are you gunning for Sinclair?” “Nothing‟s wrong with me, and you didn‟t have to be drunk to kiss me. And as far as Sinclair‟s concerned…she‟s trying to get something‟s that‟s mine.” “Raquel, if you‟re talking about me. I‟m not yours. I don‟t have time for you and me. So, this ends it.” Red-faced, Chance could barely distinguish between her skin complexion and her hair. “So, you‟ve got a new toy, and now you toss me away.”

100

“Raquel, it‟s over. Back off.” He went after Sinclair. She shouted behind him. “This isn‟t over. It‟s far from over!” He disregarded her words. He ran to the driveway looking for Sinclair. She was gone.

Chance‟s knuckles turned red from knocking on Sinclair‟s door. Her car was out front, so he knew she was there, but there was no response. Again her answering machine picked up. “Sinclair, I‟m sorry, please answer. Let me explain. Sinclair. It‟s me. It‟s Chance. I‟ve never lied to you. Please open the door.” He heard the lock click; he twisted the knob; entered the condo, and locked the door behind him. Sinclair sat on her couch in front of him hugging a pillow. Lavender scented candles flickered as they perfumed the air. Maxwell‟s soft melodic voice cooed from the CD player. “Why are you here?” “Because this is where I want to be.” She curled her feet up on the couch, and squeezed the pillow tighter. “Why?” “Sinclair, you know who I want to be with.” Slowly he walked closer to her.

101

“Raquel set us up. She wanted to hurt you, and me.” He debated between sitting beside her on the couch or halfway across the room at a small dinette table. He chose the couch. “That doesn‟t explain your tongue down her throat.” “Sinclair, I told you we had a past. She cornered me after I had a few drinks. I kissed her back, but that was it. Nothing else.” “Whatever.” “If you don‟t believe me ask Craig, he drove me here.

Bridget is in his car,

too. If we call him now, we could probably catch him before he gets too far away.” He exhaled a loud sigh, leaned back into the couch cushions. “You keep pushing me away. What do you want me to do? Be a hermit?” “Chance, I want you to stop playing with me. You knew I would be there.” “I‟m not. I told you I wanted to be with you. And I didn‟t plan on anything happening there.” Pressed up against the arm of the couch, she stared straight into his eyes. “Why do you want to be with me? Sex? That is all you want, right?” Her face was shadowed with doubt. “No, I never said I only wanted sex from you. I just don‟t know what I want. I want to spend time with you. We can figure it out. Take our time.” The pillow she hugged slammed against the couch. She stood and walked

102

toward the kitchen carrying an empty wine glass. “Sex.” “No. Time. I am attracted to you.” He rubbed a hand up and down his forehead. “Lying in bed next to you in Vegas, I wanted to be with you that night, but you didn‟t want me. At least you wouldn‟t have me.” She stopped at the kitchen doorway. “We‟ve discussed this a million times. I wanted you, but I didn‟t want to be the Black girl you had sex with in Vegas.” “So, that‟s what you‟ve been thinking. You never said that before.” He leaned back and just stared at her. “Sinclair, where do you get this from? Who said you would be the first Black woman I was with?” The glass in her hand slipped, but she caught it. “What?” Chance leaned back; propped his arm up on the side of the couch and stared at the wall in front of him. “It was a long time ago. My high school sweetheart and I spent every moment together.” He turned to face her. “She got pregnant.” “What?” Sinclair had surprise in her voice. “I mean what happened?” She walked back to her original seated post. “We were too young. Our parents…well her parents, and my father made the decision for us. We put our daughter up for adoption.” “Why didn‟t you tell me this before?” asked Sinclair. Chance stared at her. Why did he need to tell her? Did he need to run down his dating history before she would date him? “Why? Would it have made a

103

difference?” Anger tainted his words. “I don‟t know. Maybe. Yes. You never talk about yourself or your family.” He sighed, and slouched into the cushions more. “I know. I don‟t have any family.” “Have you tried to find your daughter? Your Mother?” “We‟ve talked about this.” “Not really.” Chance rested his head back on the cushions of the couch. He stared at the beige ceiling. “My mother left when I was young. I don‟t know why. Maybe she just felt like she was too young to be a mother. I haven‟t seen her since.” He lifted his head from the cushions, folded his arms as if cradling a child, and swayed them back and forth. “My daughter…I saw her once. When she was first born-she was beautiful… all wrapped up in blankets. I could only see her face. Her eyes were closed, but she was beautiful.” His arms fell back to his lap, and his head back onto the cushions. “Do you want to find her?” “My father and I were trying to find her when...” Chance stopped talking. His eyes closed. She sat cross-legged beside him, and took one of his hands into hers. “I‟m sorry.”

104

“High school kids. He jumped in the middle of a fight. The kid didn‟t mean to do it. His doctors called me when I was at school. By the time I got home, he was gone.” “Chance, I just didn‟t know.” “You never asked. Sinclair, I don‟t want to make any promises to you, but I do want you.” “Chance, I just thought I‟d be another notch on your belt.” Sinclair traced an index finger up and down the back of his hand. His free hand covered hers. Their eyes met for the first time in a while. “Sinclair why do you put me into some weird category I can‟t break away from?” “Chance, I‟m tired of people here looking at me like I‟m a Martian.” “I‟m not from here, remember.” Chance‟s arms wrapped around Sinclair. Softly, but firmly he pressed her body into the cushions of the couch. Gently, he kissed her cheek, her chin, and her closed eyelids. “Do I make you feel like that?” She opened her eyes. “No.” Sinclair‟s legs opened to the push of his body. Chance‟s hand moved up her thigh underneath her dress.

His fingers pulled at the elastic band of her

underwear. He kissed her. He kissed the corners of her mouth, and lightly kissed her neck. He found her erect nipple through the fabric of her yellow dress, and tugged at it gently with his lips. His hand slid up her dress to find the other bra

105

covered nipple. Pulling the bra aside, he massaged her breast and squeezed her nipple until she moaned. “Chance, tonight. Now.” Between butterfly kisses, he mumbled, “I can‟t stop thinking about you.” “Chance, I don‟t know how I feel. I know I care for you. When you‟re not with me I miss you, but I‟m scared of you.” He stopped, and sat up on the couch. “What?” “I meant…I have never been with a man like you before.” “Meaning what?” Sinclair rose from the couch. She waved her hands up and down the length of her body. “Chance, look at me.” “I‟ve seen you Sinclair.” “Chance, you don‟t fit into the world I‟ve lived in.” “So, why am I here?” Sinclair straddled him, wrapping her legs around his waist. Staring into his eyes, she said, “Because no matter how much I fight it, I want to be with you.” She tugged at the bottom of his shirt. Passion overtook her, and he gave into it. He lifted his arms, and she pulled the shirt over his head. Her fingers splayed across his chest and arms tracing each

106

muscle. She untwined her legs from his waist, and returned to her cowgirl position. Her gyrations against his body engorged his organ. He cupped her bottom, and pulled her tighter to his body. Chance stretched out his legs, and deepened his kiss. He thrust his body against hers with more vigor. Small trembles waved across her body. Each ripple made him want her more. His body jerked with release in time with hers. At the final twitch of their bodies, she rested her head on his shoulder. Chance kissed her forehead. “Sinclair I want to be with you, but I‟m leaving in a few months.” “Chance, I leave in six months myself. I‟m going back to Georgia.” “So, what do we do?” Lifting her head from his shoulder, she looked into his eyes. “Maybe we stop making it so complicated. And just have some fun.” “Sinclair when you say have fun…what does that mean?” “I mean we go out. We spend time with each other when we have time to spend.” He heard her, but he didn‟t believe her. Searching her eyes, he tried to uncover the truth. “Sinclair, can you handle us being together and with other people, too?” “Chance we‟re both leaving, so maybe we accept that fact. But we can enjoy

107

each other‟s company while we‟re both here.” Sinclair rose; pulled a blanket from a closet, and joined Chance again. She flung the blanket over both of them. “Sinclair, I don‟t know if I want to share you with other people.” “Chance, neither of us will be here long…what do we do?” “I don‟t know, but tonight can we just lie here together?” Chance and Sinclair cuddled on the couch; Maxwell‟s hypnotic voice lulled them both to sleep.

108

Chapter Six

The relentless chimes of Sinclair‟s doorbell shook Chance from his sleep beside her. Nestled up against his chest, he felt her warm breath against his skin. Each inhale expanded her small frame in his arms.

With each chime, his

annoyance grew. Who would disturb them so early? He just wanted to lie beside her and hold her until she wouldn‟t let him any longer for fear of starvation or lack of water. She lay beside him undaunted by the annoying music. The bells stopped; he closed his eyes buried his face in her hair, and held onto her tighter. The groan in his mind escaped before he could control it. Pushing himself up from the couch, he maneuvered his body around hers in an attempt to not disturb her rest. As he approached the door, he said, “Who‟s there?” A female voice responded, “Kendra...Kendra Jones. I‟m looking for Sinclair Mosley.” He reached for the knob, but remembered he was shirtless. “One second.” Tossing his shirt over his head, he opened the door to two wide-eyed AfricanAmerican women. A woman with a coffee colored complexion and shoulder-length, jet black

109

wavy hair extended her hand with a knowing smile. “Hi, I‟m Kendra...” She used her thumb to point at the shorter caramel skinned woman behind her. “...and this is Adena Wilson. We‟re friends of Sinclair. Is she home?” “Yes, she‟s asleep on the couch.” Chance stepped aside to let the women enter. Bouncing up and down, in unison, the women shouted, “Surprise! Wake up.” Startled, Sinclair jumped up from her sleeping position. Wiping her eyes, her head bounced back and forth between the two women. Then she caught his eye next to the wide open door. She stood and hugged each woman. “What are you two doing here?” “It‟s called a surprise,” responded Kendra. Sinclair walked over to Chance.

She smoothed down his collar, and

whispered, “You know your shirt is on inside out?” Smiling she turned and spoke to her friends. “So, I guess you guys have met my friend Chance?” Both smiling women responded, “Yes.” Nothing really made him nervous, but he felt like a piece of chocolate cake left in front of a hungry man or a shiny Christmas toy with a big red bow left in front of a three-year-old with specific instructions not to touch. Checking his watch, he said, “Ladies I‟ve got a few errands to run. If you don‟t mind, I will head

110

out.” “Do you have to leave? Maybe we could all do breakfast somewhere,” Kendra suggested. Until Kendra and Adena had showed up on Sinclair‟s doorstep, his plan for the day had included Sinclair and him picking up where they‟d left off last night. Maybe a little breakfast followed by more of Sinclair for lunch and dinner. As he watched her twirl one of her locs around her index finger, the way she always did when she‟s nervous, he knew she wasn‟t ready for that even after last night. “Thanks Kendra for the invitation, but maybe you ladies should have some time to catch up.” He leaned into Sinclair, and she offered a cheek which he reluctantly kissed before he left, closing the door behind him. He quickly glanced at his pants. The stain that was there had dried and faded, but he remembered.

Worn duffle bags dropped to the floor with a thud. Both Kendra and Adena plopped onto the couch sandwiching her. A barrage of questions bombarded her at rapid speed. “So, was that Colin Ferrell?” asked Kendra “Yes,” responded Sinclair. “Did he stay here all night?” asked Adena. “Yes,” responded Sinclair.

111

“So, if he was here all night, and you slept on the couch where did he sleep?” asked Kendra. “On the couch, too,” answered Sinclair. Both women‟s faces brightened with expectation. She could see the question forming behind their mischievous eyes. “Did you sleep with him?” asked both women. Sinclair felt like a teenager being grilled by her parents after missing curfew. Tired of answering questions, she sank into the pillows briefly before springing to her feet to head toward her bedroom to change clothes. “No, I did not sleep with him. Look, stop asking me all of these questions. Since you both woke me up…let‟s go get the breakfast you were talking about Ken.” “Hmm, okay.” Kendra‟s eyes followed her until she disappeared into the hallway. Adena agreed. “Yeah, okay.”

The waitress at the small mom and pop diner stared at Sinclair. “Sorry, Hon, what was that again? Chicken and waffles with syrup, grits with cheese, and orange juice?” “Yes. That‟s perfect.” She couldn‟t wait for her plate to arrive. This diner always smelled so good. As each waitress walked past, she could smell pancakes,

112

strawberries, syrup. It all made her mouth water. Kendra said, “Same here, except no chicken.” “Give me exactly the same,” said Adena. When the waitress disappeared both women sat closed mouthed and waited. The cold metal chair only made Sinclair‟s interrogation more uncomfortable. She shifted around in her seat for comfort. “Okay, okay. Chance spent the night. We talked. We kissed, and that was it.” “That was it?” Kendra exchanged a glance with Adena. “Yes. We‟ll get together again and see what happens.” “What do you mean see what happens? I told you what you should do. He looks good girl, there‟s nothing wrong with having some fun while you are here.” “Yeah, just be careful. You might fall in love.” Adena began to laugh. “Could you imagine everyone‟s faces if you showed up at a class reunion with him on your arm?” Kendra reached over, and popped Adena on her shoulder. Adena rubbed her stinging arm. “What? I‟m just saying.” “Anyway...” Kendra reached into the tote bag, and pulled out a folder. “So, these are some of the men you matched up with on Blackpeoplemeet.com.” “What?” exclaimed Sinclair. Okay, both of her friends were single. Kendra

113

always had a man, maybe not for long, but she always had one. Adena, well, she seemed happier with food. Why were they both pushing her so hard? “Yeah, I set up my own page, and emailed a few men for you.” Kendra spread some of the photos out in front of Sinclair. She pushed them back toward Kendra. “Girl you are impossible.” “No really, you should look at these guys. I‟ve known you for how many years now, I know what you like.” Kendra scooped up the papers. The waitress set their orders in front of them on the small white table. “Kendra, I can find my own guys.” “Yeah. When was the last time you logged on? Probably not since you were in Vegas.” Kendra really did know her. “So what. I do it when I have time.” “So, I‟m helping you.” “What about yourself or Adena? Did you guys set up pages for yourselves?” She pointed her fork at Adena. “When was the last time you had a date Adena?” Instantly, she felt guilty. Adena didn‟t say anything. The chicken wing under her knife was treated to the skill of a surgeon verses Adena‟s normal ripping and pulling. “Hey, if you want to attack somebody…attack me. It was my idea, not

114

Adena‟s.” “I wasn‟t attacking her. I was making a point. And the same goes for you, too. When have you had relationship that lasted for more than a few months?” Kendra‟s hand fanned back and forth between herself and Adena. “Neither one of us may be in a relationship at the moment, but we also don‟t live 1,000 miles from friends and family. We don‟t sit in the house every weekend. We are doing something other than work or at least we like our work. I love fashion, and Adena loves being a teacher. We thought...we know you are lonely.” Kendra‟s voice lowered, and a hand covered Sinclair‟s. “You don‟t have to admit it, but we know you are.” Sinclair looked at Adena who was still performing surgery, this time on one of her waffles. “I‟m sorry Adena. I didn‟t mean to be rude. I‟m just irritated.” She began to speak to Kendra, but she waved her off with a hand. “So, anyway, I narrowed it down to these five, but this one here, Marcus Peters, sounds really good.” They both looked at Adena. Syrup running down the fork was captured by Adena‟s tongue. “Yummy. The guy not the food. I helped Kendra sort through all of the responses.” All three women smiled at each other before breaking out in laughter. Adena always knew how to break the tension. It‟s probably why she loved her so

115

much. Even when she was being a witch toward her, Adena never would be that way to her. Picking the paper up from the table, Sinclair had to admit he looked good, if the picture was really him. “Okay, he looks good, but why do you say he is perfect for me? Adena rattled off his stats from memory.

“He‟s tall.

He attended a

Historically Black College. He traveled to Africa. He owns a business.” “And again, he‟s perfect for me why?” Kendra said, “He‟s a black man in Pennsylvania looking for a black woman.” “And that‟s all it takes right?” asked Sinclair. “Girl stop being so difficult. Just email the brother. Go out, if it doesn‟t work…cool. You‟ve still got Colin Ferrell.” Kendra smiled. Adena choked on a spoonful of grits. “You two are silly. Let‟s finish this, and hit a mall or a movie or something,” said Sinclair. Laughter filled the air around them as they ate and reminisced about days gone by.

Before Sinclair could unlock the door, walk inside and kick off her shoes. Kendra asked, “So, where‟s the laptop?”

116

Sinclair carried her bags to her bedroom, and dropped them on her bed. Kendra yelled from the living room, “Don‟t forget the laptop.” Adena was stretched out on the couch flipping through the cable stations. Kendra sat at Sinclair‟s small dinette table with the notorious papers spread out in front of her. Sinclair sat her laptop in front of Kendra and walked into the kitchen. “What are you doing?” asked Kendra. “Grabbing a glass of wine—Pinot Grigio. Do ya‟ll want one?” “Of course,” said Kendra. “Sure,” said Adena. “By the way-” said Kendra. “What were all of the purple ribbons about?” “Yeah,” said Adena. “We noticed them when we were driving here, and every store we went to today had a purple ribbon. Doors. Around trees. Stuck on registers.” Kendra stated. Sinclair was embarrassed. Heat flooded her cheeks. She didn‟t want to explain. It would only add to Kendra and Adena‟s already negative opinion of Central Pennsylvania. “The purple ribbons are because of the rally.” Sinclair softened her voice. “The Klan rally.”

117

“Oh yeah, we heard about it on the radio driving down. What do the purple ribbons have to do with the those idiots?” asked Kendra Adena pulled her attention away from the television to look into the kitchen at Sinclair. “The ribbons indicate that the store or person is not a Klan sympathizer.” Sinclair said from the kitchen. “We should go and protest their rally.” Adena said. “That‟s all I would need, to be filmed by the news protesting the protestors,” mumbled Sinclair. “I agree. We should roll up there. The three of us could handle them.” “Yeah Kendra. We could make up some signs, and walk with them on their route. Sinclair do you know their route.” “No. I don‟t pay them any attention. It feels like there‟s a rally here every weekend.” “There probably is,” said Kendra. “The news reported they‟re not expecting a whole lot of them, and there are some demonstrators against them meeting at the college.” Sinclair said. “So, we should join them,” said Kendra. The rallies were frequent. Too frequent for Sinclair‟s taste. She remembered the first time she was told the significance of the purple ribbon as she stood in line

118

ordering food. At first, she thought maybe it had something to do with the military. As she paid for her food, the cashier explained. The thirty-something, brunette cashier‟s neck broke out in pink blotchy patches. She looked at Sinclair speechless. “Huh?” Sinclair repeated her question. “Why are there purple ribbons all through the city?” “You don‟t know?” asked the cashier. “No, I‟m not from here.” “Oh,” said the cashier. Her complexion slowly returned to its normal waxen hue. The cashier went on to explain everything. The purple ribbon program was begun by college students a few years earlier, and how the mayor and community supported it. Sinclair was from the south, and she‟d never heard of anything like it, but it was effective. Purple ribbons lined every street when there was word of a rally. “Sinclair, are you listening to us?” Kendra shouted from the other room. “Sorry! Yes, let‟s do it. Let‟s join the demonstrators.” Kendra and Adena were excited. Sinclair heard her computer chime indicating Kendra had pressed the on button. “Okay, let‟s do this first, and then we can figure out what to do tomorrow,” said Kendra.

119

After handing Adena her glass of wine, she sat another glass beside Kendra, and returned to the kitchen to get her own. She took a sip from her glass, and joined Kendra. The website popped onto the screen, and Sinclair keyed in her username and password. G-e-o-r-g-i-a P-e-a-c-h; m-a-n Kendra and Adena must have thought they were funny when they set it up. Kendra handed her the piece of paper with Marcus Peters‟ profile printed on it. “Here, this is his username.” Sinclair began to type. Hi Marcus. How are you? “What? Give him something more interesting to read,” said Kendra. “Look girl, what do you want me to say, take me, now? I‟m doing this under protest as it is. I will write what I want.” With several clicks of her backspace key, Sinclair began again. Hi Marcus. Thank you for sending the pictures. Your profile sounds really interesting. Do you travel for work or do you just love to travel? I am new to Pennsylvania, and I would love to meet you. . With a tap of the enter button the message was sent without the approval of Kendra.

120

Sinclair, Kendra and Adena approached the modest crowd of antidemonstrators gathered on the parking lot of the local college campus. Dressed in vibrant shades of purple, the crowd stood out against the pristine landscape of the college. Each member carried purple banners, posters or signs with words evoking their feelings. A man with curly hair dressed in lavender followed by a short purple hued blonde burst from the crowd toward Sinclair. “Sinclair. Sinclair.” The man waved. The small blonde waved, too. “Craig?” Surprise didn‟t even begin to cover how she felt about seeing Craig. “Yeah. Come over here.” Sinclair steered Kendra and Adena toward Craig‟s waving hand. Craig hugged Sinclair. “Hey, Chance didn‟t tell me you were coming.” Chance is here! “I didn‟t know he was coming. He didn‟t know I was coming. We just decided last night.” Sinclair pointed to her friends. “Craig, this is Kendra, and this is Adena.” “Hi.” Craig shook each one‟s hand in turn. He reached for the hand of the blonde behind him. remember Bridget?”

121

“Sinclair do you

“Of course. Hi Bridget.” Raquel probably would not be too happy to know Bridget was hanging out with Craig, unless it was part of some bigger scheme. Who really knew with Raquel? Craig‟s attention veered towards the parking lot. “Here comes Chance.” “Yeah, you could hear that truck of his anywhere,” said Sinclair. “He‟s had that truck about seven years. It belonged to his father.” “Oh.” Sinclair said softly as she thought about Chance‟s words from the other night. “He‟s got other cars, but he drives that one the most.” Everyone waited for Chance to join them. Every step closer he made, she grew warmer all over. His gaze locked onto hers. He smiled, and she smiled back. He stopped with inches between them, and kissed her on the cheek. She wanted more, but it was all she gave him the last time she saw him. The touch of his lips against her skin reminded her of the feel of his legs against hers, and the feel of his hand on her breasts. His warmth next to her as she drifted off to sleep gave her comfort she‟d never felt. “Hi again ladies. Have the two of you been enjoying yourselves?” asked Chance. Kendra and Adena both watched Chance as he rolled out his banner to show his friends.

122

Kendra responded for both. “We‟ve been having a blast.” “Good.” A woman‟s voice blared out at them from the other side of the crowd through a megaphone. “Alright everyone. This will be peaceful. We will split up, and march silently on both sides of the street flanking their group. The press will be here, so we need to make sure we conduct ourselves accordingly. Does anyone have any questions about how this goes?” The long grey hair and the fabric of the speaker‟s full-length purple tunic dress moved with each gust of wind. After answering a few questions, she gave everyone last minute instructions, and the small crowd fell in line as instructed. Sinclair and Chance each carried purple flags. Her free hand held Chance‟s. They marched surrounded by friends, strangers, and protestors.

Kendra and Adena couldn‟t stop talking in the car about the protest. Chance. His friends. The news cameras. After the protest, they‟d called, and sent texts to everyone they knew to tell them to search the Internet for the rally, and watch the news in case the story was picked up nationally. They wanted someone to record them for their own personal records. Sinclair was exhausted by the time they reached her condo. She showed them the guest room, and the couch, telling them to fight amongst themselves

123

regarding who slept where. Her friends battling voices rang out through the air as Sinclair changed her clothes and sprawled out across her bed. Finally, she heard Adena say, “I drove, so you get the couch Kendra.” Admitting defeat, Kendra responded, “Okay, but you‟re driving out tomorrow, too.” “Okay,” responded Adena. Their voices quieted; luggage shifted; clothes rustled, and the voices on the television were muffled. Sinclair drifted off to sleep. Her cell phone hummed on the nightstand beside her. She read the words on the screen. Blackpeoplemeet.com, 12:42 A.M. Marcus Peters has responded.

124

Chapter Seven

Sinclair parked her yellow VW bug on the corner in front of Casting Call, restaurant and part-time club, at exactly 8:00 P.M. Although it was empty, she had a hard time searching the crowd for „Mr. Perfect‟ because there was no light. In place of club design, the owners must have believed darkness, with a few candles and music was all it took to create a club atmosphere. She checked her watch; scanned the room again, but no sign of „Mr. Perfect‟. He was late. Sinclair hoisted herself up on one of the barstools, and ordered a drink. “Mimosa with pomegranate juice instead of orange juice, please.” “Pomegranate instead of o.j.?” asked the bartender. “Yes.” The young Black man dressed in all black except for the white letters on his chest, stretched slightly by the bulge of his belly, which spelled out the word Bartender checked the small refrigerator behind the bar before returning. “Sorry, we don‟t have any pomegranate juice, but I have o.j.” “You know what. Let me just have a beer. Do you have Corona or Heineken

125

Light?” The bartender rested his large forearms on the bar, leaned forward and smiled. His teeth were just as white as the letters on his shirt. She could tell from the twinkle in his eye that the next line would be a pick-up. Wasted, but attempted. “I can give you whatever you want.” “Corona or Heineken.” Lean and smile, was that his best flirt move. Now, she was anxious for „Mr. Perfect‟ to show up. She really was not into bars. Lounges with couches, nice menus, and a nice crowd, yes; but not black boxes disguised as a club. The bartender sat her beer in front of her on the chipped up wood bar. If she would have been wearing anything cotton, her sleeves would have been ruined from the snags. “Thanks.” Sinclair sipped on her beer, and scanned the crowd again. A thin man dressed in dark denim jeans, light blue Polo shirt, and suede loafers cautiously approached. “Excuse me. Are you Sinclair?” Jaws slightly sunken in, with a physique on the lean side, verses average as his profile stated, and definitely quite a few years older „Mr. Perfect‟ waited for a response. “Yes. Hi, Marcus.” Marcus shook her hand. “Hi. I am sorry I‟m late, but I got stuck at work.”

126

“No problem. I haven‟t been here long.” Sinclair‟s bartender slid back down to their end of the bar eyeing her as he neared. Marcus pulled up the stool next to Sinclair, and said, “Hey Curtis.” The bartender and Marcus shook hands. “Let me have a Yuengling.” Curtis poured the beer from the tap, and placed it in front of Marcus. From the bar, she had a good vantage point. As new customers entered she could see their reflections in the mirror, and if she swiveled her seat from side to side each corner of the main room could easily be seen. “So, Marcus if you wouldn‟t have suggested this place, I don‟t think I would have known it was here.” The beer in front of Marcus disappeared fast, and Curtis quickly refilled it. “Yeah, a friend of mine owns it.” “Oh. Is your friend here tonight?” “He might be in the kitchen. Let‟s go take a look.” Marcus grabbed Sinclair‟s arm, and pulled her up from her barstool. Her short legs, the high stool, and the heels she wore did not work well together in that moment, but she didn‟t fall. A quick stumble and a hurried two-step, and she was in-stride. He didn‟t even seem to notice. They walked through the employee only sections of the restaurant until they reached a black velvet curtain marked V.I.P. A tall light-skinned man dressed

127

in a burgundy suit, sat with some waitresses in a booth. He stood; the two men hugged, and patted each other‟s backs. The waitresses scattered, and Marcus sat, pulling Sinclair down beside him. “Leon. This is Sinclair.” Marcus rubbed her shoulder as he spoke. Leon leered at her from the other side of the table. “Hi Sinclair.” The booth did not feel large enough for all of them. If it were possible, the room seemed even darker. She adjusted the jacket she wore to distract Marcus from stroking her back, “It‟s nice to meet you Leon. Marcus says you own this place.” Leon leaned back on the cushions of the black couch, and stretched his arms out onto pillows beside him. “Yes. Marcus is one of my investors. We‟re looking into buying a few barber shops or something, too.” Marcus nodded in agreement. She admired anyone who owned their own business. To be relatively young men taking the initiative to be entrepreneurs impressed her. “Yeah. That‟s really cool. My family—” Marcus jumped into the conversation. “Yeah, but first we need to see about making some changes here, and then we can look into barber shops, or liquor stores.” “Hey, Marcus, I thought maybe we could knock some windows out.

128

Change the floors. Bring in some live music or something.” A white paper napkin served as a drawing surface for Marcus as he sketched out the ideas they discussed.

“We could add a deck on the back for summer

parties.” The duo diagramed, and talked about their renovations for Casting Call. Sinclair listened. Two long hours later, Marcus walked Sinclair to her car. Marcus leaned against the rear of her car. His arms folded against his stomach. “Sinclair I had a great time with you tonight.” The tickle in her throat nearly turned into a full on laugh. “Really?” “Of course, and you must have liked the club. There‟s nothing like it for Black people in Harrisburg.” Thank God. Hopefully, the Black people in Pennsylvania found something else to do with their time, maybe watch paint dry. “Yeah, thanks for inviting me.” She fished around in her purse for her key. His body straightened, and he uncrossed his arms. “I‟d like to see you again.” He reached for her. Locating her keys, she rattled them in the air as she walked to her drivers‟ side door, and unlocked it. Another date would not be necessary. She‟d rather spend her time alone if she couldn‟t be with Chance. But that is not what she and Chance agreed to do. She halted by the door. “Sure Marcus. That might be fun.”

129

She scribbled her cell phone number. “Here‟s my number call me and tell me when.” She slid into her car. He rested one hand on the roof of the car, and the other held the top of the door. If she pulled the door shut, she would crush his fingers. The smell of beer on his breath filled her nose. “Next weekend?” “Sure.” Marcus closed her door, and she pulled away from the curb.

The numbers jumbled together on the page Sinclair was reading. She sat the papers on the corner of her desk, and walked to the cafeteria. She‟d stayed on the phone with Marcus until 3:00 A.M. discussing his plans for his barber shops and liquor stores. Well, he talked, and she listened. He was a nice guy, and she wanted to like him; so, she stayed on the phone. During the conversation, she‟d nodded off a few times, but she didn‟t think he‟d even noticed. Next time, she‟d throw in a snore or two. Sinclair grabbed a paper bowl and a plastic spoon and made her way to the fresh fruit bar. After watching one of the other employees spray the clear sneeze guard shield with spittle over the mangoes—one of her favorites, she picked out a healthy amount of cantaloupe, strawberries, and pineapple, paid and headed back toward her office.

130

A familiar voice broke her stride. “Hey Sinclair. Wait up.” She spun around. “Craig” The suit he wore was your typical black slacks and jacket, but the jacket was slung over an arm. He wore a different pair of glasses, too. They were the same wire frames, but they were green. They matched the green converse sneakers he wore. Craig sped up his pace, and caught up with her. “Hey. Where are you headed?” “Back to my office. What are you doing here?” The smell of the fruit enticed her. She poked a finger through until she found the perfect piece of cantaloupe, and popped it into her mouth. If she had some melted dark chocolate, she would be in heaven. Boyish innocence reddened his cheeks and widened his smile. “I had lunch with Bridget.” “Oh. Where are you going now?” “Back to work. I thought I‟d stop by to say hi to Chance before I left.” Sinclair popped a piece of pineapple in her mouth. “I‟m sure he‟d like that a lot.” “Do you want to walk with me? I‟m sure he‟d like that, too.” His kind words comforted her somewhat, but she wasn‟t sure if they were

131

true. She poked Craig with her elbow. “I don‟t know. I haven‟t heard from him in a few days.” Craig stopped walking, and touched Sinclair‟s arm. “I think he‟s just got a lot on his mind.” His shoulders went up and down. “You know work, and everything.” Sinclair stopped eating, and focused on Craig. “Really? He didn‟t tell me anything about any special projects or anything.” Now, she was curious, and felt a bit guilty. “Michael Dickinson and Chance‟s company—Scan Data, have him bogged down. I haven‟t even seen him myself.” The lack of communication between her and Chance all of a sudden seemed childish. “Oh, I thought, maybe…never mind.” She picked through her fruit looking for another piece of cantaloupe, ate it, and then she pointed. “Let‟s turn down here. His office is straight up the hallway.” She could visit with Craig, and if Chance didn‟t want her there she could walk away.

Soft knocking on the door drew his attention away from his charts. Two people had walked in, but he only watched one. Juice from the pineapple Sinclair sucked on glistened as it dripped down her lips onto her chin. She rubbed it away with the back of her hand. Chance wanted to taste it, and her. He watched as she

132

devoured the fruit; licked the juice from her fingers, and searched for another piece. “Hey. I haven‟t heard anything from you in a while,” said Craig. Chance hadn‟t paid any attention to his friend. He stood, and walked toward them. “Sorry about that.” He shook Craig‟s hand. “Michael Dickinson must have it in for me or something. I haven‟t been able to do anything lately, but work.” Inches between their bodies, he stood looking down at her. The sweet smell of the mixed fruit tempted his senses. He whispered into her ear. “If you don‟t want me to kiss you…stop sucking on that fruit, and licking your fingers.” Her eyes challenged him, and her mouth teased him as it curved into one of the most sensuous smiles he‟d ever seen. She didn‟t stop. She bit into a strawberry; fed the rest to him. The tip of her finger touched his lips, sending a shiver through his body. She smiled as if she knew what her simple touch did to him. Beside her, Craig coughed placing his loosely fisted hand over his mouth. Darting her eyes at Craig quickly, she removed her hand. “Well, I guess I‟ll leave you two alone.” She turned, and left. Chance stood there and watched her walk away for a moment. The sway of her walk hypnotized him.

The fabric of her skirt hugged her full bottom

accentuating her hips and narrow waist. He couldn‟t help but remember the soft

133

skin underneath, and the feel of it against hers. “Come on Craig sit down.” He returned to his seated position. Craig sat, and slung his jacket over the arm of the chair. “Hey, so what do you think is going on with Michael?” Chance leaned back in his chair. “Yeah. Since I told Raquel to back off, he‟s had it in for me. A few of the guys from the office came down and filled me in on a lot of things. Apparently, he spoke with my boss—Steve—and suggested I might be getting distracted.” Craig leaned forward resting his forearms on his thighs. “So, what are you going to do?” Chance leaned back in his chair. “Nothing. I told Steve I‟ll finish my projects, and I‟ll leave when the contract is up. I was planning on leaving anyway.” “Sinclair knows?” “Yeah, we talked about it. She‟s leaving, too.” His email chimed. Raquel. He clicked it open. The message read like so many others, another urgent request for a frivolous report about her category needed by the end of day. He printed the email, and laid it on the desk with a pile of others. “This woman is driving me mad.” “Who? Sinclair?” “No, Raquel. Between her, Michael, and the rest of their team my time is

134

tied up.” “You should let Sinclair know what is going on. She didn‟t say, but I know she thinks it has something to do with her.” Chance‟s elbows rested on his desk, and his palms ran over the top of his head. “I haven‟t been calling like I should, and after the other night, and the rally I should have.” “Why haven‟t you?” He‟d been trying to figure that out, too. All he wanted to do was spend time with her. He looked up from his hands at his friend. “We fit together. I could spend every day with her.” In the time he‟d known Craig, he‟d never met a woman he wanted to be with like her. “So, what are you going to do?” “Not sure.” “So, do you know where your next assignment will be?” “No, not yet. Steve promised he‟d let me know soon.” “Do you think Michael would try to get you fired for not sleeping with Daddy‟s little girl?” Chance hadn‟t thought about being fired. It wouldn‟t matter anyway. His father had taken care of him. It‟s not like it was enough to retire in the south of France, but it was enough to pay the bills. He left it sit in his savings account and

135

hadn‟t figured out what to do with it, yet. “I don‟t think so. I‟m one of the only guys Steve has that can move around from place to place like I do. I trained half of the guys he has in the field. I‟ve been with this company for seven years.” “Okay, okay…I was just wondering if this account is big enough that Michael could pull a few strings and have you bumped. Just don‟t get sucker punched.” He thought over Craig‟s warning. Steve‟s accounts did not look the same before he joined his company. Steve let him do what he wanted because of it. “I understand, but I don‟t think Steve would do that to me.” After Craig left, Chance thought about their conversation. He shut his office door, and he called Steve. A woman‟s voice answered, “Hello. Stephen Fremont‟s office.” “Hey Catherine. It‟s Chance. Is Steve around?” “Hi Chance. He‟s in his office. Let me see if I can get him for you.” She placed him on hold. “Hello.” Steve‟s words hesitated. “Chance.” “Hey Steve, I hadn‟t heard anything from you, so I thought I‟d check in. Any leads yet on where my next assignment might be?” “No, not yet.

Michael Dickinson contacted me about the Perishables

136

Category Manager needing you to work on a few projects. I‟m thinking about sending one of the other guys down there to assist you. Then you can focus solely on the projects that Michael and the Perishables CM have for you.” “Why would you do that? I don‟t need an assistant. I‟ve been able to handle the whole load for a year and a half.” “Yeah, but it sounds like some things have changed.” A long deep breath filled his lungs as he tried to stay his temper. “Things like what Steve?” “Chance, listen you are one of my best. I want to keep you there in Pennsylvania, but some things might need to change.” Steve‟s voice lowered and softened. “You understand me?” Deep breaths did not control his anger. “Steve what the hell do you mean some things need to change. If any of this has to do with my personal life this conversation needs to end.” “Chance, the Carni‟s contract is our largest contract. We can‟t afford to lose it. We need to make them happy.” “So, what, you pimp me out as a part of the deal Steve?” The other end of the phone line was quiet. “Chance, I‟m going to come down in a few weeks. We‟ll talk about this then. Just think about what I said.”

137

“Yeah, I‟ll think about it all.” Chance slammed the phone into its base.

Chance stalked into the Irish Pub. He‟d called Sinclair, but she didn‟t answer. When he drove past her house her car wasn‟t there. His head would explode if he didn‟t talk to somebody, so he called Craig. Craig agreed to meet him. He‟d planned on bringing Sinclair to the pub, but he could do it next time. He scanned the bar looking for Craig, but he didn‟t see him. In fact, not many people were there. The bar was empty. A few couples were scattered around. A preppy looking guy sat alone with a bunch of papers spread out in front of him on the table. He sat at the bar and ordered a draft beer. Craig showed moments later. “Hey, sorry I‟m late. I had to pick up Bridget and take her home first.” “I don‟t want to mess up your plans for the night. Do you need to leave?” Craig sat at the bar next to Chance. “No. Don‟t worry about it. Tell me what‟s up.” He ordered a beer, and waited. Anger from his conversation with Steve hadn‟t waned. “After you left today, I called Steve. You were right.” “What did he say?” Chance took a sip of his beer. “The account‟s too big to lose. Some changes need to be made, etc.”

138

Chance‟s cell phone rang. S. Mosley read out on the display. “Wait a second, Craig. Hello.” Light, and sweet her voice soothed him. “Hi, Chance.” “Hey, I wanted to talk to you earlier, but I couldn‟t catch you.” “Sorry, I was out. I‟m actually still out with a friend. Do you want to talk later? Maybe in about an hour.” “Can I come over?” “Yes. We can have some wine, listen to some music and talk.” “Okay.” Chance hung up the phone. “Sorry, that was Sinclair.” “I could tell. So, now what?” “I‟ve got six months and then I‟m out of here. I‟ll have to work on a Plan B just in case.” “You‟ve got your savings and finances together, right?” “Yeah. I‟m just disappointed. I didn‟t think Steve would rollover so easy.” Craig sipped from his glass. “Carni‟s has a lot of power…especially around here.” Chance‟s attention was drawn away from Craig, and their conversation. The figure of the woman exiting the bathrooms in the back of the bar caught Chance‟s attention. He would know her body anywhere. Her breasts bounced as

139

she walked; the jeans she wore hugged every curve of her butt and hips. The locs he‟d wrapped around his fingers draped down over her shoulders, and rested against her butterscotch skin. The liquor he drank weakened his resistance against it all even more. He rose from his stool. Craig‟s gaze followed. They both watched as the woman sat at a table with a man wearing a pastel cardigan. As soon as the woman sat the man shoved a pile of papers in front of her, and busily pointed at different things on the pages. Her hands rested on the table, but the guy reached for one of them. He stopped discussing the papers, and caressed her hand as he spoke to her about something. Then he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed. Slow and deliberate, he kissed the back of her hand, not once, but three times before releasing her, and turning his attention back to the papers. “Is that Sinclair?” asked Craig. Chance sat, and took another sip of his beer. “Looks like it.” He‟d been trying to reach her since he left work, and she‟d been in a bar with another man. He had a need for her that was beyond physical. He couldn‟t believe a preppy little man in a pastel sweater was what she would want. Who cares about their agreement? He needed to think, and then he would handle everything. Craig waved the bartender over, and ordered two more beers.

140

They drank the beers in silence; Craig paid the tab, and they left. From his car, Chance sent a text message. Sorry Sinclair, but I can’t make it. See you at work.

141

Chapter Eight Sinclair had sent Chance a million text messages throughout the day, but he‟d only responded once. Busy as hell. Call you later. She didn‟t know why he was acting like a jerk, but she didn‟t feel like dealing with him or his cold shoulder routine. It was 6:00 P.M.., and she was tired. Marcus had kept her up until one in the morning. After he dropped her off, he called her, and they stayed on the phone discussing the same thing. Over and over. She had to yawn twenty times before he caught the hint, and said good night. She‟d hoped Chance would show up before she fell asleep, but he didn‟t. Anger and irritation grew within her the more she thought about Chance and Marcus. The black purse hiding her car keys made her want to scream. Instead, she tossed its contents onto her desk, grabbed her keys, and tossed the rest back into her purse. “Hi Sinclair.” Uninvited once again, Raquel hovered over her. Something about the sight of her made her want to jump across the desk, and slap her. “Hi Raquel. What‟s up?” She continued stuffing the contents back where they belonged.

142

Again, candy-coated words of invitation assaulted Sinclair. “Well, I don‟t know what you‟ve got planned for the night, but a group of us were going to go out for drinks. I thought maybe you‟d like to come with.” She sounded sincere, and looked so innocent, but Sinclair knew there must be a catch. “I don‟t know Raquel. I am kind of tired.” “You should join us, a group of us meet every once in a while.” Raquel handed her a piece of paper with a name and address. “If you change your mind meet us here.” Sinclair accepted the piece of paper. “Sure.” She followed Raquel out of her office, and out of the building. They parted ways in the parking lot. With the door propped open, she sat behind the steering wheel staring at the piece of paper. What had Raquel said, “…a group of us meet every once in a while.” Was this the coveted meeting they had excluded her from in the past? Speed dial button number three was Chance, right behind her parents and voicemail. No answer. She read the address again—Harry‟s Bar. It was on the west side of the river. Not far from her home, so why not. Minutes later, she pulled into the gravel covered lot, and parked. The heels of her shoes sank into the dirt and gravel. After entering the foyer of Harry‟s Bar, she leaned against the exposed brick wall, and shook out her t-strap sandals. Raquel didn‟t say where they‟d be inside of the bar, so Sinclair walked

143

around. Everyone in the bar wore jeans or cute club attire, but not her. She wore the same suit she had on at work. Everyone in the bar stared at her as she walked through. Big-head, wide-eyed martian. That‟s what she felt like. Ahead of her, Veronica stood in a corner. Sinclair approached her, but she walked away. Maybe she didn’t see her. Sinclair scanned the corner of the bar, but she didn‟t see her. Maybe it wasn‟t Veronica. Sinclair sat at a small table in a corner of the club; ordered a drink, and watched the room. She didn‟t see anyone. Fortyfive minutes passed. Raquel didn‟t write down her phone number, so Sinclair had no way of reaching her. She didn‟t know if plans had changed, but she didn‟t feel like waiting around any longer. All of the game playing infuriated her. If she left now, there would not be a problem, but if she stayed and ran into Raquel and her crowd, she thought she might slap her. She stood to leave. As she walked out of the door, she was bumped by the man entering. “Sorry.” The man didn‟t matter. Getting out of Harry‟s Bar was the only thing that mattered. “No problem.” His hand touched her stomach, stopping her from leaving. Reflex kicked in, and she swiped the man‟s hand away. Some guy grabbing her in a club was not cool. Annoyed and ready to tell him off she looked up to see who she‟d collided with. Chance.

144

“What are you doing here?” asked Chance. His focus was not on her. Voicemails nor text messages could get anything more than a cursory response, why did he care where she was or what she was doing. “Why?” From behind her she heard voices. Raquel and her crew were in the building. For how long? Her seat in the corner had allowed her to see the door that‟s why she chose it. But she hadn‟t seen them arrive. The glimmer in Raquel‟s eye paired with her smile betrayed her words. “Sinclair. We‟ve been looking for you. Where have you been? Did you just arrive?” Sinclair was pissed. Did they invite her just to make a fool of her? Her hands balled into tight little fists at her side. Focus on getting out of the door behind Chance was all she could do. “No, I‟ve been here for awhile.” Chance waved a hand in wide circles pointing to the group around him. “So, what‟s going on? All of you are together?” Raquel answered. “Yeah, we all thought we‟d get together to discuss work, and relax.” Chance stared at Sinclair. “Thanks again for the invitation, Raquel, but I‟ve got a headache. I‟m going to head home.” “Sinclair.”

145

Sinclair walked out the door, and didn‟t look back at Chance‟s call. “Raquel, what the hell are you up to?” He didn‟t wait for a response. Gravel crunched beneath his feet as he ran. “Hey, wait up.” “Why?

I haven‟t heard from you in days,” retorted Sinclair over her

shoulder, meanwhile quickening her pace. Chance reached for her arm from behind. She yanked it away. “After we spoke on the phone that night, you disappeared.” “Sinclair, stop. Wait.” She didn‟t slow her pace. The headlights of her car blinked in unison with the beep of her car horn signaling the door was unlocked. She slid behind the wheel, and Chance jumped in on the passenger side. His knees folded into his abdomen. He tried to adjust the seat. Sinclair stared into his eyes. “Chance, I don‟t feel like playing anymore games tonight.” “I‟m not playing games with you.” “I‟m leaving. Get out, Chance. Please.” The headlights of the truck pulling out of the parking space in front of Sinclair illuminated the tears hiding behind her glasses. “Sinclair, wherever you‟re headed…I‟m going, too.” “What about your truck?”

146

“Leave it.” She shifted the car into drive, stepped on the gas, and pulled out of the lot. At the corner gas station, she u-turned, then drove back into the lot next to Chance‟s truck. “Chance, I‟m tired. I want to go home, and I can‟t drive home with you crammed in that seat like you are.” “If you tell me what happened, I‟ll get out.” “Chance, why do you care? I haven‟t seen you. Where have you been?” “Busy, that‟s all.” Chance was still upset. Every time he imagined that guy going home with her. Kissing her. Touching her. He became angry all over again. “Yeah, whatever. Chance, I am ready to go. Please get into your truck.” “Damn, Sinclair. Alright. I saw you…okay.” Sinclair‟s face looked puzzled. “You saw me? Doing what?” Chance felt like a jealous child saying the words. “At the pub the other night.” Sinclair laughed. The car jerked forward. She put the car in park. “Is that all?” “What do you mean is that all?” “That was just Marcus. My girlfriends hooked me up with him.” “Okay, that doesn‟t change anything. I didn‟t like it.”

147

Sinclair‟s hand rubbed up and down his thigh. Each stroke went higher up his thigh and lengthened to his knee. Neatly manicured nails scratched at his denim-clad skin. “We agreed to see other people. You go on dates with other women.” He covered her hand with his to stop her. A knowing smile crept onto her face, and her eyes searched his body. “I know, but I didn‟t like it Sinclair. I don‟t want you to date other people.” “Jealous huh?” Chance opened the car door, and stretched one of his legs out the door. Other parts of his body needed the room, too. The fresh air didn‟t hurt either. “I know what we said, but I needed you that night, and when I saw you with him…well, I kept imagining him touching you.” Chance reached over and rubbed a finger over her lips, remembering each taste and every sound she made when he kissed her. “I didn‟t like thinking about it” The smell of the Susquehana River wafted in around them. Sinclair‟s smiling face dimly lit by the hood light stared at him. He ran his hand up and down her stocking covered leg. The vibration of the silk stocking buzzed against his fingertips. His heart skipped a beat when he realized the stocking ended midthigh. Her legs parted, inviting him to go further. Her underwear was satiny to the touch. Warm, wet satin. He watched her breasts heave as her breaths

148

deepened. He wanted to rip the blouse under her suit open, and bury his face, and other parts of his body deep between her soft skin. Instead, he kissed her. Reluctantly he removed his hand, pushed her head into the headrest behind her, and kissed her until voices and cars outside of the car disturbed them. “I guess we‟ll see you two at work.” Raquel crouched down to peer through the car window. The crew they‟d left in the bar probably searched the lot until they found Sinclair‟s car. He should‟ve made her keep driving or stay at the gas station. He got out of the car, and closed the door. “Raquel, you don‟t need to look for either one of us.” He walked around to Sinclair‟s side of the car, and leaned into the window. “Go home. I‟ll meet you there.” Chance kissed her again, and walked to his truck. Raquel and her gang stood watching as he pulled into traffic behind Sinclair.

Barefoot and dressed in boy-cut panties and a tank top, Sinclair curled up next to Chance on the couch draping a throw across their laps. Sipping a glass of wine, she nestled up against his bare chest. The warmth of her body flowed into him. She offered a sip of her wine which he accepted, but that only served to

149

enhance the urges vibrating through his body. His fingers sifted through her locs at the nape of her neck playfully massaging her head. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back into his hand exposing her neck to his delight. His tongue traced up her neck to her chin the journey broken by sporadic kisses until he reached her mouth. The taste of the wine on her lips intoxicated him even more. He swept her legs onto his lap, and turned her chest into his. His body hardened, and his kisses deepened. She didn‟t back away. She gave to him, and took from him. His body wanted her, but he had some questions that wouldn‟t go away. He broke their connection, reluctantly, and stared into her eyes. “Sinclair why were you there tonight?” Dreamy eyed, and husky she responded, “Raquel invited me.” “I see.” His hand rubbed up and down her stomach finding its way underneath her top. “What?” Her eyes widened. “I knew there was a reason she wanted me to meet her there.” He placed a kiss on her cheek. “She told me she wanted to discuss everything that‟s been happening at work. Her father. My boss.” “Work? Her father? Your boss? What?” “I‟ll explain, but first tell me why were you leaving?” “I waited forty-five minutes, and no one showed.”

150

Chance sat up alertly; Sinclair spilled her wine. “What?” Raquel acted like a twelve-year old. What was he thinking ever getting in bed with her? He never planned on hanging around Harrisburg. But she and her father must have planned it for him. “I guess they felt like playing more games.” He took her glass of wine, and sat it on the floor beside the couch.

His

hands rested on her hips. “I don‟t want to play anymore games. I don‟t want to share you.” “Chance, I thought...” “I know what we said, but now I know what I want.” “What‟s that?” “You.” The eyes that stared at her begged her to understand, and say yes. His body‟s scent: cologne mixed with her body‟s scent and spilled white wine enticed her. She kissed him. The longer she kissed him, the more her body ached for him. Her nipples rubbed against his bare skin intensifying her desire for him, but she pulled away. “Chance, explain.” “Huh?” Chance pulled her back into a kiss. “Chance…what happened?”

151

Breathless he fell back into the cushions. “Nothing just more of the same bull from Michael and Raquel.” “Like what?” “Michael talked with Steve—my boss—about me.” “What? Chance all of this is affecting your job? We should think about this.” She stood up in front of him. Her bottom, full and round, jiggled as she patted her foot on the floor. Her breasts bounced; erect nipples teased him. His body swelled, and ached for release. Standing he grabbed her bottom, and pulled her into him. “I‟ll take care of it. Right now, I need you to take care of me.” She smiled up at him; reached inside of his briefs and massaged his rod until it was rigid. The feel of her hand on his body nearly caused him to explode. “Sinclair, I want to be inside of you.” She removed her tank top; slowly she sank to the carpeted floor removing his briefs as she did. For a moment, she knelt in front of him. Her hand stroked his rod, and her mouth joined in rhythm. Warm and wet, her tongue circled and played. Chance couldn‟t take it any longer. He found his pants; grabbed a condom, and returned his attention to Sinclair. She responded to his every silent motion. Lying beneath him, she spread her legs for his touch. His fingers explored her

152

body first. She moaned in answer to the slightest touch. His tongue stroked her nipple as his fingers found their way to the source of her fire. The slickness of her body told him she was ready for him. He kissed her as he slowly pushed deeper, and deeper inside of her. Her body was tight, but with each thrust her legs parted more, and her body stretched. His cadence quickened, and her breaths became more audible. He slid his hands beneath her bottom raising it up toward him as he thrust into her. Her hands pulled at his back and shoulders, and tugged at his hair. She kissed him deeply. So, deeply that she took his breath away. Her body rose from the floor. She sighed. Her legs trembled against his side. Erratic, his cadence became jerky and unmeasured. Deep thrusts of his body into hers prickled their bodies with perspiration. He wanted to be inside of her all night, but he couldn‟t stop his body any longer. He released; winded and happy, slowly, he removed his throbbing organ from her. Curving his body around hers, he closed his eyes and fell asleep. She slept naked on the floor beside him until morning.

153

Chapter Nine

Sinclair had been dreading the Carni‟s Food Golf Tournament since being drafted as a judge. She twisted her locs into the best French braid possible, but little helped to keep her cool in the hot August sun. Beads of sweat rolled down the sides of her face. Sweat glued her yellow pique golf shirt to her body. Sprawled across her portable folding chair, she squinted as she peered across the vast treeless golf course. No one was in sight. Stationed at a long-shot hole-in one, donated by a car dealership, she felt like a forgotten pair of shoes in the back of a closet. The only bright spots came when Chance text her. Are you bored, yet? He typed. I was bored before I got here. Yeah, I know. At least I’m up here with the beer. Wish I was there right now. I’m running out of water. I’ll bring you some. Really? Can you leave? I would love to see you. I like the sound of that. Sinclair slid her phone shut, and put it back into one of the pockets on her capris.

154

She sat back at her umbrella perch, and waited. Her pocket vibrated. It was a picture text from Chance. Sinclair looked around, and then opened the message. She‟d been surprised by Chance before, and she‟d reciprocated. She always titled each picture—for your eyes only, as a warning, and instructed Chance to delete after viewing. Like what you see? Chance‟s smiling face filled her tiny 3-inch screen. Yes. A LOT. This was one picture she would save and archive. Instead of putting her phone away, she pulled out the stylus, and clicked on games. One more game of Solitaire might help pass the time. Another foursome of pot-bellied, grey haired male executives packed into two tiny golf carts drove up to Sinclair‟s hole. They climbed out like clowns at a circus. Legs, arms, and bellies. Like everyone else, they knew her name, but she had almost no clue who they all were. She did recognize Michael Dickinson. The second cart stopped on the path, but Michael‟s cart drove onto the green. They all spoke together. “Hello Sinclair.” “Hi everyone. Do you all feel lucky today?” asked Sinclair. Michael Dickinson responded for the group. “Very.” Sinclair grabbed her board wrote down Michael‟s name, and asked each member of his group their names. After recording everyone‟s information, Sinclair

155

stepped back, and let them play through. Another cart approached Sinclair‟s perch, but this time she knew exactly who it was. Chance. Sinclair focused on Michael Dickinson‟s teammate‟s stroke, but Michael glared at her. Michael hurried his party along with rushed tight words as Chance‟s cart closed the gap between him and the crowd. None of them made the hole. Michael and his group hopped back into their carts, and pulled away as Chance parked and set the brake next to the cart parked on the path. The balding man in the cart with Michael looked over his shoulder at Sinclair. Chance hopped out of the cart with three bottles of water for Sinclair. When he was near enough for her to hear him, he asked, “Was that Michael?” Chance handed Sinclair the bottles of water. With a kiss, Sinclair took the water. “Yep. He did not seem at all happy to see you driving up.” “Who was the other guy in Michael‟s cart?” “I think his name was Stephen.” “Stephen…Stephen Fremont.” “Yeah.” “So, Steve did make it after all.” “You know Stephen?” asked Sinclair.

156

Chance stared down the green. “Yeah, he‟s my boss.” Nervous unsteady laughter followed his words. “This isn‟t funny. This affects your job and my job. He wants his daughter to be happy, and she wants you to make her happy. And now, he and your boss are riding around like a mini-gang.” His arms slid around Sinclair‟s waist. “So what.” “So what?” asked Sinclair. He ignored her question, but asked his own. “Sinclair what about you? Do I make you happy?” The feel of her in his arms stimulated his thoughts of the nights they‟d been spending together. If he could find a tree, he‟d take her behind it, and strip her out of the wet shirt clinging to her body, but he could tell from the look on her face that was not going to happen. “Of course you make me happy, but...” Tightening his grip on her waist, he pulled her a little closer. “No more objections. Not right now.” The kiss they shared silenced her. Then he turned and walked back to his cart allowing her no time to say anything else. Near the cart, he halted, and faced her once more. “Let‟s skip the tented cook-out, and go back to your condo or dinner. Maybe Chinese. Sound good?” “Sure, if you want.” “Okay, meet me at my truck when this is over.”

157

“Okay.” Chance‟s mind wandered while he drove the narrow path back to his beer stand. The whole Raquel and Michael situation was not going away quickly. He knew Sinclair was right to worry about their jobs, but he couldn‟t believe he‟d finally found someone he wanted to spend time with, and now he had to deal with all kinds of bull to hold it together. When they were alone everything was so perfect. But as soon as they walked out of the door there was always something causing a problem for them. He was beginning to understand what Sinclair meant, but he didn‟t want to let her go.

Chance, went back to his stand, and took up his post. Five hours, hundreds of bottles of water, and even more bottles of beer later Chance pulled away from the golf course with Sinclair sitting beside him. Later that night, as Sinclair fell asleep nestled up against his side, he wandered…how he had gone for so long without the sense of belonging to another in his life. The sensation of not being alone had evaded him since the death of his father. Work had filled a lot of his needs—not all—but most. It gave him the chance to move around, meet lots of different people—women, and he always had the perfect excuse for leaving. He‟d never really had a problem making friends, but

158

he was cautious to avoid falling in love. But this…it felt like he couldn‟t get enough of her. Whenever he heard her voice or she was near, he could barely stop smiling. Stephen was right when he said she interfered with his work. Whenever they had a meeting, he never wanted it to end. Just to be close to her made him feel a hundred pounds lighter. Chance wrapped his other arm around her, and he held on. For the first time in his life, he fell asleep and would wake up beside someone he loved, and that loved him back. He didn‟t want it…her to leave him.

A shiny bald head peeped over the top of Chance‟s computer monitor. Chance didn‟t have to guess who‟d have the balls to walk into his office, sit in his chair, and fiddle around with his computer. Stephen Fremont—his boss. He pulled up one of the other chairs, and sat. “Hey Steve. I didn‟t get the chance to speak with you at the tournament this weekend.” Steve didn‟t move. He kept clicking away on the keyboard. “I know. I called you a few times, but your phone was off all weekend.” “Yeah, I spent the weekend with a friend.” This comment seemed to capture his attention. He lifted his head away from the screen. “A friend? Sinclair Mosley?”

159

“Does it matter Steve?” Steve got up, walked to the office door, and closed it. He returned to the desk, leaned his bottom against it, and folded his arms across his large gut. “Chance, I know what you‟ve been through. I‟m happy you found someone you like, but how serious is it with this girl.” “Girl?” Chance glared up from his seated position at Steve. Steve threw his arms up in a defensive gesture. “Okay, sorry. Woman.” He returned to his original seated position. Chance‟s words were staccato in tone. “Why does this matter to everyone? We are on our own time.” “I know…I know, but—” Steve paused before he continued. “But, your phone, your computer, laptop, etc. are mine. The company‟s.” His boss‟s words caused his temper to escalate, but he calmed down and chose his words carefully. “What does that mean, Steve?” “I mean IT brought some things to my attention.” The sound of his fist striking the desk echoed through the small office. “What?” “Chance you used company equipment in an inappropriate manner.” “I used my own private email, and this phone is mine. You just pay the bill.” “Chance, I just want you to understand. That‟s all. Michael really loves

160

your work, and wants you to stay here. Losing you for any reason is not something that I want to do. Tell me what I can do to make this work for you.” “Make what work Steve? Are you trying to help me or Michael or Raquel?” Steve stood, and walked toward the door. “I am trying to help everyone. Maybe you should think about your friend more. Did she really sign on for all of this?” “Close the door behind you, Steve.” Steve‟s words replayed in his mind all day. He knew Sinclair just wanted to work, and go back home. She didn‟t sign on for what he was taking her through. But he hadn‟t planned on it either. He‟d had plans to leave Pennsylvania, and move on to the next spot, but now he‟d complicated her life, and his.

Chance ignored his cell phone. He knew it was Sinclair again. He‟d gone out with Craig the other night, gotten drunk, and Craig had to drive him home. He passed out on his couch, and showed up at work late. Michael had managed to stay in his face all day. When he left Raquel or someone from her team replaced him. Chance promised himself he‟d call her as soon as he could so he could explain everything. He had thought about it all day. Screwing up Sinclair‟s world was not his goal. She only had a few more months before she would be leaving.

161

When they were both gone then they could pick up where they left off. They needed to get away from Carni‟s.

Sinclair sat in her weekly ad meeting across from all of the other Category Managers, and fumed. She couldn‟t concentrate on what they were saying because she was pissed. She‟d been calling, texting, and emailing Chance all day, but she hadn‟t received one response. Raquel waved a hand back and forth in front of Sinclair‟s face. “Sinclair. Hello Sinclair.” Blinking, she shook her head slightly before speaking. “Sorry Raquel. What was your question again?” Raquel‟s hand returned to rest on top of the conference room table. “No problem, I‟m sure you have a lot on your mind.” She smiled. “My statement was about some of your General Merchandise items in the bakery and perishable departments. We‟re thinking about expanding those departments, and some of the cross-promotions items may have to be eliminated.” “Which items?” Raquel slid a memo across the table to Sinclair. Sinclair scanned the page. Raquel and her father wanted to remove about thirty items. Thirty seasonal items Sinclair had gotten them to agree to cut in for the fall season.

162

“Raquel the sales on some of these items are really fantastic, and not only do my items move but bakery and perishable items sales increased, too.” “We believe we can expand some of the items in our own categories and increase our sales dramatically.” She leaned back in her seat. “We believe our sales may improve.” Sinclair looked around the table. Everyone sat motionless and quiet. Once again Raquel was using her position and the relationship with her father to affect her and her job. From the expressions on the faces at the table, she was convinced that everyone knew it. The items they were discussing used previously unutilized space in both categories.

Originally, they were beyond excited with cross-

promotions because they used space that was difficult to merchandise. The space was unused and unattractive. Now, everything was different. “Okay. I guess if I can‟t change your minds, I‟ll have to figure out different merchandising programs for these items.” “Great. I knew you‟d understand. If I can help you with any of your planning give me a call.” “Thanks Raquel, but I think I‟ll be okay.” At the conclusion of her meeting, Sinclair rushed to her office. She checked her phone for a call from Chance, not one call from him, but she had two missed calls:

one from a number she didn‟t recognize, one from Marcus, and no

163

voicemails. Sinclair ended her day without hearing a word from Chance. She went home and curled up on her couch with some chocolate chip ice cream. She wanted to talk to him, but she didn‟t feel like getting his voicemail again. And she knew if she called Kendra or Adena they would just say I told you so. Instead she popped in a DVD. Close to midnight she turned off the television, and headed towards her bedroom. She stopped when she heard a knock on her apartment door. “Who is it?” “It‟s me.” Sinclair unlocked the door, but stood blocking the entrance. She wanted to hug him. She wanted him to hold her, and tell him about her crappy day, but instead she stood immobilized. “Sinclair can I come in?” His voice did not have its normal certainty. Fisted hands shoved into his pockets. His knuckles imprinted against the cotton fabric. “Why? You have been ignoring my calls all day.” “I haven‟t been ignoring you. I‟ve just been busy.” Chance leaned in, and kissed her on the cheek. “Forgive me.” He smiled, but it was faint. The warmth of his lips against her skin tempted her body and mind. She

164

didn‟t respond, but she did let him in. “Sinclair the last few days have been crazy. I had a lot to think about.” Chance walked over to the couch and sat down. He removed his jacket, and tossed it over the arm of the couch. His shoes he placed in a nearby corner. She closed the door, but stood in front of him. He stared at the floor for a moment as if searching for the words he needed. “Sinclair I‟m sorry I dropped off the grid, but Steve, Michael and Raquel worked me this time.” “What are you talking about?” Her words were angry. “I called you a few times, but you didn‟t answer.” “No you didn‟t.” “Yes, I did. I bought a new phone. Now, I have a 717 number.” The unknown number on her missed call log, but he‟d only called once. It‟s not like he tried very hard to reach her. “Oh, that was you. Why didn‟t you leave a message? I thought it was a wrong number.” “I didn‟t think about you not recognizing the number, but I knew I was coming here tonight.” “Why‟d you buy a new phone?” “You know it‟s not important. The thing is Sinclair…Michael, Raquel and Steve are really giving me a hard time. I am going to take a few weeks to work on a

165

project off-site, and someone is going to replace me here.” “What? Why?” Sadness washed over her. In a short period of time, she‟d grown used to having him by her side. Imagining the next few weeks without him caused her stomach to flip flop. She fought the urge to cry. Standing near him gave her even more pain. She sat in one of the small dinette table chairs on the other side of the room. “I will be back. I will be back in a few weeks. But when I come back, I need us to figure out some things.” For a long time, he said nothing. He sat, and gazed into her eyes. She couldn‟t take the pressure of the stare. She turned her head, and stared down the hallway leading to her bedroom. “Where are you going?” “Back to Long Island for a few weeks.” He rose from the couch, and walked over to her. “You‟re leaving me here to deal with all of this alone.” What kind of a man would leave her alone to deal with hate and stupidity? Trembles of anger and hurt flowed through her body. His touch heightened their intensity. “No, I‟m not leaving you. I just need to take care of a few things, but I‟ll be back. And I think this will be the best. I think when I‟m gone, things will be different. Easier for you.” “What? Why would you think that things would be easier?” Sinclair

166

snatched her hands away. “Don‟t worry about it Chance. I can handle myself. Just leave. It seems to be what you want to do anyway. What you‟re good at.” Her harsh words mirrored her feelings of anger. “Sinclair. That‟s not fair. Come on.” He dropped to one knee, and placed his hand underneath her chin lifting her gaze to meet his. “While I‟m gone, I will get some things together, and I think the gang at Carni‟s will leave you alone. I‟m the reason they‟ve been digging their claws into you and making it hard for you to do your job.” She quickly slapped his hand away from her face. “Whatever, Chance.” He might be right, but she didn‟t really want to hear it. She didn‟t want him to leave. He‟d made her love him, and now he was leaving her. She‟d be alone again. Grabbing his shoulders with both hands, she pushed him away, and stood. She walked over to the door, opened it, and waited. Her ears perked at the sound of a distant howl of a dog, but otherwise, parked cars and darkness greeted her. Chance stood in the center of the room. “You want me to leave?” Focused on anything, but him, she replied. “Yes, please. I‟m tired. I had a really rough day.” “Why was your day so rough?” Why the hell did he run away so much? She knew why. His mother ran. His father died. His daughter was taken away. Although she was pissed, she

167

understood that staying in one place with one person went against everything he knew how to do. Everything he knew how to be. “Don‟t worry about it, Chance. I can take care of myself.” She shoved his shoes at him. He tucked them underneath one arm and threw his jacket across the other before he walked out. The click of the deadbolt clanged behind him.

168

Chapter Ten

Sinclair‟s parents always had an uncanny way of knowing she was unhappy. As far back as she could remember she‟d never been able to hide anything from either one of them. If she tried to lie about a grade, a PTA meeting, or sorority hijinks she never could get away with anything. When she saw her parents‟ number pop up on her caller I.D., she could have let it go to voicemail, but she didn‟t. She never liked to miss calls from her parents. Before she answered, she tried to perk up her voice by practicing a few quick hellos, but she was not able to fool them. Her father wouldn‟t give up. “So, Baby girl tell me why you sound so down in the dumps?” He asked. “I‟m not down Pop. It‟s late. I‟m just a little tired.” “Really?” “Yeah, I was dozing off a little bit.” “Hmm, really? O.K. Well, your mother and I figure since you‟ll be moving back in a few months that we should come to visit you before you leave.” “Visit me?” “Yep. Visit. Your mother found some pretty cheap tickets on the Internet with the new computer you bought her. We‟re going to be there for about a

169

week.” “A week!” “Yep. You don‟t work on Saturdays do you?” “Saturday coming?” “No. A few weeks from now. We might be able to get a cheaper ticket. Your mother‟s still playing on that dang thing.” “O.K. Pop. Please call me before you buy the tickets.” “That‟s what I‟m doing now. We‟ll call you in the next few days to let you know our flight information.” “O.K. Pop.” “Love ya, Baby girl. Get some sleep.” “Love ya too, Pop. Good night.”

The next few weeks were a blur to Sinclair. She dreaded her parents coming to Harrisburg. She hadn‟t spoken to Chance, and her job was taking up so much of her time. Her parents would see through her for sure when they arrived. She‟d agreed to meet Marcus a few times since Chance was M.I.A. She‟d tried to talk with him about her low sales, but he was still too busy talking about his barber shops. He‟d actually opened one of them, and he and his partner were scouting out locations for the next one. They were calling the shops CUTZ.

170

The new woman—Kristin something—who replaced Chance would not meet with Sinclair after hours, so Sinclair had been working on pulling numbers during the day and plan-o-grams and merchandising after work and on weekends. She was talking to a vendor about a new merchandising rack for special order fall themed plates when the reminder notice on her phone chimed. She ignored it until she realized it was reminding her of her parents‟ arrival at the airport. As quickly as she could, she chose a rack design which fit in with her category. Then she ran through the building to her car. She was lucky she didn‟t get a ticket as she sped toward Middletown and Harrisburg International Airport. She pulled into one of the empty short-term parking spots, hopped out of her car, and made her way to the sky bridge. Breathless, she practically ran down the moving sidewalks towards the baggage claim areas for Delta.

Scrolling

through her phone, she looked for her parents‟ flight information, and then scanned the LED displays overhead in search of the right conveyor belt loaded down with luggage. Before she could find them, they found her. “Clair, Clair,” yelled her mother. Her Mother‟s waving hand from the middle of the crowd could barely be seen. Sinclair was only about 5'5" herself but her mother was even shorter, although you would never know it because she always wore at least a 3-inch heel. Sinclair walked over to her mother.

171

“Hey Ma. Where‟s Pop?” Her mother pointed to the other side of the conveyor belt. “Over there. We missed one of the bags.” Four matching red pieces of luggage sat on the floor around her mother. One lonely black duffle bag mingled with the others. “Ma is all of this stuff yours?” “Well baby, we‟re going to be here for a week. I didn‟t know what to bring.” Sinclair shook her head and laughed. “How‟s all of this stuff going to fit in my car?” She grabbed a cart, as her father retrieved the last red bag. They loaded the cart, and headed towards the ground transportation exit. “Hey you guys wait here at the curb, and I‟ll go get the car. Are ya‟ll hungry? We could get something to eat at one of the diners I like.” Sinclair said. “Baby girl, that sounds good. You know I never eat before a flight. Is the diner a buffet?” “Oh, Pop. Buffet. No, but you can have whatever you want. Don‟t move. I‟ll be right back.” Sinclair looked behind her as she made her way back to her parking spot. After her father helped her mother find a spot to sit, he stood guard over the luggage with his thumbs tucked in his belt as he rocked back and forth on his heels. Her mother pulled out a compact, and checked her chocolate reflection in

172

the mirror. She patted her skin with the sponge housed in the compact until she was content. Once satisfied, she put it back in her purse, turned toward her husband, and chatted about something. He listened contently.

Instead of the diner, Sinclair decided on the Petro Truck Stop. For eight bucks, her father had his choice of salad bar and a main course, and it was served in the cute little cast iron skillet Chance liked. Her father‟s soft snoring from the backseat let her know he was satisfied. As she drove into her condo community her mother exclaimed, “Clair baby, this is so adorable.” Her mother waved at neighbors as they walked their dogs and set out their trash. She even spoke to a few through the closed window, and they spoke back. “Ma, they can‟t hear you.” “Oh, I know Clair baby, but they seem friendly. I can‟t wait to see the inside of your place.” Clair slid into her numbered parking spot, and clicked off the smooth jazz radio station. Her father woke up. “Hey Baby girl, we‟re here already?” “Pop you slept the whole ride.” “What do you expect after a meal like that? I couldn‟t even stretch out back

173

here in this tiny car. You need a Lincoln or an Oldsmobile. A real car. This tiny thing I could pick up, and throw.” Sinclair laughed when she looked at her father in the backseat. His legs were intertwined with her mom‟s red luggage. His one duffle bag served as a pillow/backrest. “Pop this car is free. No car payment, remember?” “Yeah, yeah Baby girl, but there‟s nothing like an Oldsmobile.” “Come on, let‟s unload all this stuff.” Sinclair gave direction as they entered. “Mom, Dad put your bags in the back bedroom. That bed is larger, and newer. I think ya‟ll will be more comfortable there.” They darted in and out of every room exploring. “Clair baby, this is a cute built-in vanity in your bedroom. You know, we should go and buy a little bench or chair. That way every morning you could do your hair, and apply your make right here,” yelled her mother from the back bedroom. Her father‟s muffled voice from the inside of the refrigerator responded for her. “Jill Marie, leave the girl alone. She‟s moving in a few months. She doesn‟t need to buy anything. When she‟s back home you can help her decorate.” A knock at the door. “Sinclair. Hello. Sinclair.”

174

Marcus? “Marcus what are you doing here.” “I thought I‟d take a chance to see if you were available for a late dinner.” She took a quick glance at her watch. “Dinner? Marcus it‟s late, and I have family in town. Maybe next week or something.” Before she could close the door, her parents had tip-toed back into the living room. If she shut the door now, they‟d think she was being rude to a guest. You always had to invite a guest in, and feed them. Always. They gave away so much food at their restaurant; it was amazing the place made any money. Every Sunday, they shut the restaurant down to paying customers, and only served people who were „down on their luck‟ as her mother would say. “Excuse us. We didn‟t mean to interrupt,” said Sinclair‟s mother. Sinclair turned to see both of her parents smiling. They couldn‟t be any more obvious of their curiosity. “Young man, come on in. I‟m Robert—Sinclair‟s father, and this is my wife Jill Marie.” Marcus shook hands with Sinclair‟s parents. “Hello Sir, I‟m Marcus. A friend of Sinclair‟s.” “Well, it‟s nice to know Sinclair has made some friends up here.” Sinclair stood with her hand on the doorknob.

175

She waited for her

opportunity to close the door, throw on her pajamas, and relax. “Well, would you like to come in and join us for a little desert? We picked up some ice cream—butter pecan, and chocolate cake on the way home,” said Sinclair‟s mom. Everybody turned, and looked at Sinclair. Hesitantly, she said, “Yeah, sure Marcus, why don‟t you join us.” Sinclair‟s mom looped her arm around Marcus‟ arm, and guided him toward Sinclair‟s small glass and black metal dinette table. Marcus sat at the table with Sinclair‟s father. As Sinclair walked past the table toward the kitchen with her mother, she heard her father discussing his favorite subject—Atlanta Falcons. Surprisingly, Marcus had something to say not related to his Barber Shops like maybe he could theme his shops after football teams or something. “Marcus what would you like for dessert?” “Chocolate cake would be fine, Mrs. Mosley.” “And Honey, what about you?” “Chocolate cake with ice cream,” responded Sinclair‟s father. Sinclair‟s mother‟s right eyebrow raised a little, and her lips tightened. Robert Mosley threw up his hands in mock defeat. “Okay. Ice cream no cake.”

176

“Alright. Sinclair and I will be right back.” “Mom, I think I‟ll only have ice cream like Daddy.” “I‟ll have a little bit of the cake myself.” Sinclair‟s mom patted her hips with both hands, and then she paused for a moment. “Clair baby, I see I didn‟t have to worry about you so much. You haven‟t been terribly lonely here have you?” “No, Mom. I‟ve met a few people.” “I‟m so glad. I really thought you were spending all of your time alone. But that young man is quite attractive, and friendly.” Her mom‟s face beamed. Sinclair avoided direct eye contact.

Instead she took plates from the

cabinets, and forks from the drawer. “Mom, it‟s not really like that.” “So, there‟s someone else?” asked her mother. “No. Yeah. I don‟t know. I thought…maybe?” “So, this other young man, Chance, you care for him?” “What? How‟d you know about Chance?” “Well, you never mentioned him or anyone to me or your father, and we worry about you. So, we called Kendra.” Sinclair closed the cabinet door a little harder than necessary. “I swear.” “Now, don‟t be mad at Kendra. We called her.” “He‟s a great guy Mom, but people at work seem to have a problem with it.”

177

“People or one person?” “One person. One woman.” Sinclair‟s mom took the small maroon and white bowl she handed her. “You‟re not scared of one woman are you?” “No, I‟m not scared of her. I just don‟t want a lot of drama at work. That‟s all.” “Oh, so you don‟t love him?” While her mother cut a slice of cake for Marcus, Sinclair ate a spoonful of ice cream. “I don‟t know Mom. I haven‟t even seen or heard from him in weeks. And Mom, he‟s Irish.” Sinclair‟s mom scooped up the slice of chocolate cake, and put in on a plate. “I know.” “What didn’t Kendra tell you?” “Clair baby, I don‟t care if he‟s purple with antlers if he makes you happy.” Sinclair hugged her mother. She knew she would understand. “Yeah, but what about Daddy? You know he always says, „If he can‟t use your comb, don‟t bring him home‟.” Her mother sat the plate in her hand on the countertop. She cupped her hands over Sinclair‟s cheeks. “Clair baby, don‟t listen to any of that junk your

178

father says. He wants you to be happy. He doesn‟t care what race Chance is…just that you are happy. It‟s just when we were young things were different. Things could get really nasty. We had a hard enough time as it was. People always thought your dad was something other than a Black man.” “I remember Daddy saying…papersack tan was what he was.” “Yeah, he would have you saying it, too, because that was really all a Black person needed. If you were lighter than a paper bag, and you could get into buildings, colleges, etc. But for me…things were a little harder.” “But Mom it‟s hard. This woman at work, people in restaurants. If it‟s like this here…what will it be like at home when he comes to visit?” “Clair baby, I remember times I‟d push you around in a stroller, and people wouldn‟t even think you were mine unless your daddy was with us.” Tears welled up in Sinclair‟s mom‟s eyes. She blinked them away. “Mom, I didn‟t—” “Clair baby, who cares what other people think or say? You have to do what feels right for your heart. Kendra told me about the protest, and she told us about his father, and mother. He sounds like a man worth getting to know. A strong man. That young man out in your dining room is nice and attractive, but if he doesn‟t make your heart happy, find out what will.” Her mother brushed tears dangling from Sinclair‟s eyelashes away, and went

179

back to preparing desserts. As if for the first time, she analyzed every feature of her mother‟s face. She was her mother‟s twin, but she had her father‟s complexion. Suddenly, she felt stupid. How could she give up so easily? Sinclair kissed her mom‟s cheek. “I love you Mom.” Her mother looked at her and smiled. “You better. Now let‟s take this food out to your friend and your father before they come searching for us.”

180

Chapter Eleven “Baby girl, eight dollars a person? We can skip this, that‟s a lot of money for three people.” “Pop it‟s only eight dollars.” “Hey Honey, look.”

Sinclair‟s mother pointed at a sign near the cash

register. “With a college I.D., we can buy one, and get one free. We‟ll only have to pay for two.” “Perfect Ma.” Sinclair reached into her wallet, and pulled out her student I.D. “Okay, ma‟am. That‟ll be sixteen dollars,” said the cashier. Sinclair‟s father said, “Wait. What about senior discounts? Do you offer discounts?” “Yes sir, but you have to be over sixty-two years old.” “Sixty-two?” “Well, Honey, that counts us out. We are too young,” said Sinclair‟s mom with a smile, and gentle laughter. “Honestly Pop. It‟s okay. Mom said you really wanted to see this show.” “Thank you, Clair baby. Your dad missed this show twice...in Memphis and Nashville.”

181

“Yeah, well, I‟d miss it again if it would help her save her money.” mumbled Sinclair‟s dad. Sinclair‟s mom took her husband‟s hand and guided him onto the auto show floor of the huge Pennsylvania Farm Show Complex and Expo Center. The complex was bigger than Sinclair thought it would be. When she purchased the tickets on-line, the website said the center was over a million square feet. Silently, Sinclair hoped they didn‟t have every square inch covered with cars. Sinclair couldn‟t remember when she‟d seen her father so happy. He raced from concept car to concept car. Buick, Chevrolet, Chrysler, Dodge and every other American-made car he saw increased his excitement. They didn‟t have any Oldsmobiles, but they did have a couple of Lincolns. He must have circled each car twenty times, and snapped photos. Her mother had to drag him on to the next grouping of cars. Her father couldn‟t resist taking a photo in front of the Denali Hybrid. Sinclair stepped backwards, and pressed the telephoto button in order to center her parents on the display screen of the digital camera. The man in the background of her picture staring at her caught her attention. Chance. He was back. She clicked the photo. “Come on Ma, Daddy let‟s go.”

182

“Sinclair.” His hair was longer, and his eyes were bluer. Was that possible? No. His arms were bigger. Yes. So was his chest. The memory of the weight of his body on top of hers almost made her moan. The car cut him off at the waist. Thank goodness. Ignoring the voice behind them, she pointed to another section of the expansive show room. She wanted to talk to him, but she didn‟t want the first time she‟d seen him in weeks to be with an audience. Her emotions were playing havoc with her. She wasn‟t sure if she‟d cry or yell and scream if he came closer. “Come on Daddy, I think I saw Jeep.” Retreating in the opposite direction with her parents made better sense. Over thousands of people‟s voices spread across a huge showroom, she still heard him. “Sinclair, wait,” “Clair baby, I think the young man over there is trying to get your attention.” Chance and Craig walked around the hybrid truck, and stood in front of Sinclair and her parents. Craig spoke first. Chance eased up beside her. “Hey, Sinclair. I haven‟t seen you in a while.” She could feel Chance standing beside her, but she couldn‟t make herself

183

look at him, not yet. “Hey, Craig. These are my parents...Mr. and Mrs. Mosley.” “Hello Sir, Ma‟am.” “Hi,” said Sinclair‟s mom. “Hello,” said Sinclair‟s dad. Sinclair‟s parents waited for her to introduce the other person standing beside them. “Mom, Dad this is Chance.” “Chance.” Sinclair‟s mom smiled, and she shook Chance‟s hand.

“Hi,

Chance. It‟s nice to meet you.” “Chance? I‟ve heard of you,” said Mr. Mosley. Craig and Chance exchanged glances, and then Chance looked at Sinclair. “Don‟t look at me.” She wanted her words to be as hurtful to him as his absence had been to her. “I didn‟t tell them about you. Kendra did.” Chance was speaking to her parents, but he didn‟t take his eyes off of her. “Mr. and Mrs. Mosley, I‟ve been gone for awhile. I had to settle some things back home in Long Island, but now I‟m back.” “When did you get back?” asked Mrs. Mosley. Briefly, he faced her mother while he answered. “Yesterday, ma‟am.” He turned back toward Sinclair. “I stopped by your office, and Sharon told me you took the week off. She told me your parents were in town. I didn‟t know...I don‟t

184

know if you...” Chance didn‟t finish his statement. Sinclair‟s mom took Chance by the elbow, and guided him toward Jeep. “So, Chance, do you like Jeeps, too?” “Yes ma‟am. I prefer GMC. My Dad left me his truck when he died, and I‟m still driving it. I kind of thought I might find something I was interested in here that could replace it, but I don‟t really see anything.” “Why replace it? You could keep it, and buy another,” said Mrs. Mosley. “Yes ma‟am. I think I will keep it. It‟s never let me down.” “Chance, there‟s nothing like a good American-made car. Your father knew that, too,” said Mr. Mosley. When they reached the Jeep Wrangler, Mrs. Mosley let go of Chance‟s arm, and stood beside her daughter. Sinclair and her mom watched as her father, Chance and Craig flitted back and forth among the new concept trucks for Jeep. At the front entrance, they left Craig standing with her parents as she and Chance circled through the massive display of cars in the parking lot searching for her car. “Sinclair, I‟m sorry it took me so long to return.” Again, her body was not listening. She wanted to be angry, but she was happy. Happy that he was back, but was he going to leave again. “Chance, it‟s

185

okay. You had to do what you needed to do for you.” “I wasn‟t just doing it for me. I needed to put some things in order for both of us.” Us? Put what in order for us? “Like what?” “I‟ll tell you about it, but not yet.” “Not yet?” What was he thinking treating her like a child? “Why not? You left me hanging out in the wind for what? Do you know what I‟ve been through?” “I know. I‟m sorry, but it‟ll be okay, now.” He reached out for her with his free hand. She swatted it away. “Why should I believe anything you say?” “Because I‟ve never lied to you about anything.” To her knowledge, he hadn‟t lied to her. He‟d told her when he wasn‟t ready for a relationship, and when he was, but still he‟d left her. “Let‟s talk about this later. Right now, I want to get my parents home.” Chance waited for Sinclair to get in her car, and then he followed her back to the main entrance. At the front doors, he pulled up behind Sinclair in the fire lane, and exited his car. He reached through her window, placed his hand on her neck, and

186

whispered in her ear. “Bye for now Sinclair, but I‟ll be coming over as soon as your parents leave. We should talk.” He kissed her on the cheek. The touch of his lips against her skin sent a rush of heat through her entire body. Vivid memories of every touch between them flooded her mind. Before she forgave him, she needed to get away from him, and think. He looked over the hood of the car, and said, “Good bye Mr. and Mrs. Mosley. It was nice to meet you both.” Then he rounded the car to stand beside them. “Chance, son, I‟m sorry we didn‟t get to spend more time with you,” said Mr. Mosley. They shook hands, and then Mr. Mosley said good-bye to Craig. “Chance sweetie it was definitely my pleasure.” Mrs. Mosley winked at Chance, and smiled. “Take care of my baby.” Inside of her tiny car, she sat with her hands gripping the steering wheel. She was ready to go. She could hear the tingle in her mother‟s voice which indicated she‟d soon be inviting Chance for dessert or breakfast just to give her and her father a chance to talk to him more. “Yes ma‟am. I will.” “I think you will,” said Sinclair‟s mom. She squeezed Craig‟s arms, and said, “Craig, sweetie, you are so cute. The girls told me about Chance, you, and your girlfriend at the protest with my baby.

187

I‟m glad she has friends like ya‟ll with her.” “Jill Marie, are you going to talk the boys to death?” asked Mr. Mosley from the backseat of Sinclair‟s car. “I‟m coming. I‟m coming.” Mrs. Mosley sat in the car, and strapped herself in. Chance and Craig walked to his truck. Sinclair pulled into traffic with Chance behind her.

“I wish you guys weren‟t leaving in the morning. It‟s going to be so boring without you both.” “Well you know Clair baby, we do own our restaurant. We could stay longer.” “Ma, that would be so great, but I can‟t take another week off. Now, Chance‟s back maybe I can get caught up.” “He seems like a very nice young man. Don‟t you think so, Honey?” “Jill Marie, we don‟t get involved in Baby girl‟s life. She can make her own decisions. She knows she could do a lot worse than to have a strong young man like Chance by her side.” In his own way, her Dad was pushing her at Chance, too. He just thought he was subtle, and she appreciated it. “Thank you, Daddy. Ma, listen to him.”

188

“I am Clair baby. Are you?” Her mother had a mischievous grin on her face. Clair‟s mom hummed to the music. Sinclair and her father joined in. They sang, hummed, and talked all the way back to Sinclair‟s condo.

The tiny Harrisburg airport bustled. Sinclair‟s parents‟ left as they came, overflowing with hugs and kisses, but this time there was the addition of tears. Unlike her normal routine, this time, she waited and watched the plane take off. She longed to be on that plane with them. To leave Pennsylvania and Carni‟s behind, but she couldn‟t. There was too much she still had to do, and one of those things was confront Chance.

In the next passing weeks Chance and Sinclair made up a lot, in many different positions. He didn‟t know who had missed whom more. Lying at the foot of the bed, he sat up and stared at her as she slept. He couldn‟t believe she was still a part of his life, and he didn‟t want to see a time when she wouldn‟t be. Chocolate crammed his senses. The nearby factories and park were the perfect setting. A weekend at Hershey Park gave them both the time they needed to talk, cry, and love. Her body squirmed beneath the sheets as she rolled over. Her hand rubbed across the pillow where his head should have been. In her sleep

189

she searched for him. He ached to be near her. Pulling the covers away from her, he exposed her naked body beneath. The site of her brought his body to full alert. Slowly, his hands slid up her thighs spreading them as they traveled north toward the curly mound that was his goal. The pads of his fingers softly massaged her. The sheen of her body on his fingers told him that she was now aware of him. Her body moved with his fingers, moans escaped her. Sex and sleep mixed in her stare. His mouth replaced his hand. Together his tongue and fingers increased her excitement. The push of her body against his tongue sent all of the blood in him to his penis. He rolled their bodies. They lay stomach to stomach. She was on top with her head at his feet. Her thighs rested on his shoulders allowing his head room between her legs. He hooked his arms around her knees and dipped his head deeper between her thighs. He pulled her body down to his mouth, and thrust his tongue in and out of her wildly. Moaning, she took his rod into her mouth. Wrapping one hand around his shaft, in measured beats she alternated between using her hand, and her mouth to stimulate him. He thrust his tongue in deeper; she paused. He thrust even further. She panted breathlessly. “Umm.” Trembles rolled off his tongue through her body. The warmth of her mouth surrounded his swollen organ. He filled her

190

mouth. He couldn‟t stop his body any longer; he erupted. She lay beside him running her fingers up and down his thigh watching his organ throb. “Are you coming up here?” she asked. “Yes.” He flipped around to the top of the bed. She molded her body into his, and they slept.

Sinclair and Chance strolled through Hershey Park holding hands. She didn‟t even care that people stared. It didn‟t even seem as frequent to her, now. Maybe it never had been. Chance pulled her over to a huge black kettle where a young black haired guy poured sugar and salt over popcorn. It smelled delicious. “What on earth is this, Chance?” The smile on his face was positively childlike. “What? Don‟t tell me you haven‟t had this yet?” “What is it something special?” “Woman, this is kettle corn. Once you try it, you‟re hooked for life.” “Well, maybe I shouldn‟t try it because if I can‟t get it in Georgia it might be a problem in a few months. And Chance, we still need to talk about Georgia. You keep avoiding it.” “Would you guys like some kettle corn?” asked the popcorn vendor.

191

Holding up two fingers, Chance said, “Yes, two please.” “Chance?” His hand swept across her cheek, and down her hair. He tugged at the tip of one of her locs. “I‟m not ignoring you or avoiding the question. We‟ll talk about it. I promise.” “When?” The young man handed each of them a clear plastic bag of popcorn that was as long as Sinclair‟s arm. “Thank you,” said Sinclair. Chance echoed her remark. “Thank you.” Holding hands, they headed across the blacktop to the Bleacherite Amphitheatre. “I promise when I have everything worked out. I will let you know, but right now just trust me. We‟ve only got a few months left here. I don‟t want to waste them worrying about anything.” She wished she could be as confident as Chance about working everything out. But how could she, when he wouldn‟t discuss it.

In a few months, they‟d

both be gone, and what then? Long distance relationship? Yeah, right. Women would line up at his door before her side of the bed was cold. Maybe, just maybe he could come to Georgia. They sat.

192

The announcer came over the loud speakers welcoming everyone to the live dolphin performance. He and his teammates warned the individuals in the front that they could get very wet. They moved, and sat in the back. They ate popcorn, and laughed at the people in the front row until the show ended. They didn‟t get wet, but on their way to the car with their arms loaded with stuffed animals, the sky darkened, lightning flashed and thunder cracked around them. Raindrops the size of quarters fell. Before they could reach Chance‟s truck they were drenched. Safely inside the truck, Chance stripped off the t-shirt he wore, and handed it to her. “Here use this for your hair.” She twisted the shirt through her locs. Stacking the wet tresses on top of her head. The white t-shirt he still wore clung to his body. Every muscle she‟d kissed and stroked called to her. “Chance, I love you. I want to enjoy every moment of our last two months.” He kissed her, slow and tender. The kind of kiss she wanted from him for the next eighty or ninety years. “We will enjoy them together.” He cranked up the truck, and turned on the defrost. “In fact, we should start packing up your stuff, and you stay with me until you leave.” “What?” asked Sinclair.

193

“I think it makes sense. You save money, and-” “What about my lease, and my things?” “We break your lease. We ship your stuff home.” “I‟m not even sure where I would put my stuff it won‟t really fit in my parents‟ house.” “Don‟t worry about it. I‟ll take care of everything. We can start next week. You should change your address, and personal information at work Monday.” Sinclair‟s thoughts were spinning. Was she really going to move in with this guy for two months? She was thinking crazy. What would her parents say? “Oh, and don‟t worry about your parents? I discussed it with them. I told them I thought it would be a good way to save money, and get you back to them fast.” “You spoke to my parents? How? When?” Chance put the car in drive, and pulled off. “Your mother calls me when she can‟t get you on the phone, and well…you know how your mother is.” “Really, and Daddy? What did he say?” “He‟s fine. As long as we sleep in separate rooms.” Chance laughed. “I told him I only have a one bedroom.” Sinclair couldn‟t believe what she was hearing.

194

She ignored the dull

throbbing in the back of her mouth. “Chance let‟s talk about it tomorrow. Let‟s sleep on it.” That night Sinclair could barely sleep. She tossed all night long. She couldn‟t believe what she was contemplating, and her Baptist raised parents were okay with it. Living with Chance for two months. Whew! Chance was persistent. He pointed out she was wasting time they could be spending together. They spent every night together anyway, and debated the tiny point of actually living under one roof. After a few days, she said yes, and Chance wasted no time moving her in. She didn‟t even know half of the guys Chance had given moving assignments. People began to show up at her house with boxes, hand trucks, etc. Chance even took care of talking with the rental office about the lease. She didn‟t have to pay a fee for breaking her lease. He never told her how he‟d managed that one. After three straight days of speed packing with recruits like Craig and Bridget to assist, Sinclair was exhausted. Chance sent her home to their apartment while he worked with FedEx and a small moving company to ship everything she didn‟t need home to Georgia. Sinclair passed out fully dressed. When her alarm clock went off she was in a nightgown. Chance must have changed her clothes during the night. He had already left for work when she turned over in bed.

195

She didn‟t feel well. She wobbled her way around the bed into the master bathroom. Her face was slightly swollen, and her jaws were stiff. She could barely brush her teeth because of the pain. She hopped into the shower, dressed, and headed to work. It would go away with a couple of Tylenol. Sharon took one look at her, and said, “Hon, what‟s wrong with you?” She dropped her head into her hands. “Sharon, I feel horrible.” “Hon, maybe you should go back home. Or go to a doctor.” “Yeah, maybe I‟ll call my dentist. I don‟t feel well at all.” Sinclair search through her purse for her dentist‟s information. She‟d only been for a cleaning twice since she‟d been there. She couldn‟t even remember what his name was. Maybe Binder or Bember or B-something on Jonestown or Union Deposit or maybe she took Union Deposit to Jonestown to Linglestown Rd. She couldn‟t remember for the life of her. She walked up to HR for another book of providers, and asked if they could check her file for her last dental appointment. The assistant who gave her the book, checked her file, and asked her if she needed another card sent to her, too. “Yes.” “Should we send it to the address on file Ms. Mosley.” “Yes, uhh, no. Send it to this one.” Sinclair wrote down Chance‟s address on a piece of paper.

196

“Okay. I‟ll update the system, and do it for you immediately. Meanwhile you should still be able to make your appointment. They should have your information on file when you call your dentist.” Sinclair returned to her office, made the appointment, and called Chance to tell him she was going home.

197

Chapter Twelve

Chance had taken a day off to drive Sinclair to and from the oral surgeon‟s office, and then another to babysit her while she slept and drank water all day. A mouthful of cotton stopped her from eating. After three days, she felt well enough to go back to work. She was positive people had been whispering around her all day. She was right. Sharon walked into her office at the end of the day, and sat down. “Sinclair, Hon, I wanted to let you know that that meddlesome Raquel has been talking to everyone she can about you and Chance. It‟s none of my business, but she‟s been telling everyone you and Chance have moved in together.” Sinclair couldn‟t believe what she was hearing. She remembered what her mother said, but she was pissed, and somebody needed to know she was sick and tired of all of the crap coming from Raquel. “Sharon, how does she know anything about me?” “I‟m not sure, Hon, but this all started happening when you went to the dentist.” No wonder the HR assistant was so nice. She was spying. “Hmm. Okay. Thank you Sharon.”

198

“Hon, I‟m glad you don‟t have much time left here. You don‟t need to be worried with all of this.” Except for the unresolved issues with Chance, she was thankful she was leaving, too. “Thanks again, Sharon.” Sinclair stormed over to her boss‟ office, and had his secretary, Janet, interrupt a conference call with Michael Dickinson. Daniel Houser was the V.P. of General Merchandise, he and Michael often met. Throughout her time with Carni‟s, Sinclair always felt as if she could trust Daniel, but she thought he was worried more about his own amicable retirement. She couldn‟t blame him, it‟s not like he owed her anything. Sinclair entered Daniel‟s office, and closed the door behind her. “Daniel do you know what is going on around here.” Daniel stood, walked to the doorway leading to his private bathroom, and rubbed his back against the doorframe. It was something Sinclair had seen him do often right before or after a big meeting. “Sinclair, I don‟t know what to do about any of this. I want you to speak to HR. The conversation I had with Michael was completely inappropriate.” “What? That meeting was about me?” “Sinclair, off-the-record, I know Michael loves his daughter, but we‟ve got to get a handle on this. I hope you know that however I can help…I will.”

199

“Daniel, I don‟t know what to do. I can‟t believe she is taking things this far.” “What about Chance?” asked Daniel. “Well, he took a couple of days off, too, because I was sick. I don‟t know how much he knows.” “Sinclair don‟t do anything today. Talk it over tonight at home, and come back to me tomorrow. Maybe together we all can come up with something. You‟ve only got a few weeks left. Don‟t let people like Michael or Raquel leave a lasting impression on you about the rest of us. Why don‟t you leave early? Forget about this place.” Why should she leave? Sinclair knew Daniel was only trying to diffuse the situation, and she knew he was right. She was too angry to think straight. Speaking to anyone other than Chance or her parents would not be good. Chance was pacing the center of his office while on the telephone, when Sinclair entered his office. She heard him mention Steve‟s name. He must be speaking to his boss. He wrapped one arm around Sinclair‟s waist, and kissed her without missing a beat of his telephone conversation. He closed and locked his door, sat in his chair, and pulled her onto his lap. “Stephen, what in the hell is this all about? Because some spoiled brat can‟t get laid my life is complicated.”

200

Sinclair could here Stephen‟s voice through the phone. “Chance, I told you this was a delicate situation.” “Stephen, how long have I worked for you? Since I left college. I‟ve never let you down. You got this contract because of me, but this is how you handle this situation?” “Chance, why did you have to do it? Why did you let your private life become so public?” “I didn‟t do it, and my private life is no one‟s business, but since you can‟t handle this situation, I will. You know you can‟t win this fight, Stephen?” “Are you threatening me, Chance?” “No, Stephen, not a threat.” Chance hung up the phone. Sinclair couldn‟t hold back the tears burning behind her eyes any longer. Her face grew hotter with each tear that fell. They seemed to singe her skin as they rolled down her cheeks. Chance pushed everything on his desk to the floor. He lifted Sinclair from his lap, and sat her on the desk. Chance placed his hands on the desk beside her, and leaned into her. He kissed her tear stained cheeks. Her mind played over and over again the words of one of her favorite poems by Langston Hughes. She said the words aloud to Chance. “Love is the master of the ring; and life a circus tent.”

201

He paused, and looked into her eyes. “Langston Hughes?” She smiled. He knew her mind so well. “Yes. The Ring.” “Very appropriate babe. Very appropriate. I‟m sorry you had to go through all of this. I know this is hard for you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “It would be a lot harder if you were not here.” Sinclair planted tiny kisses all over his face. Chance groaned. “I did lock the door, right?” “Yes.” Sinclair massaged the bulge in his pants. His groans deepened. He slid her skirt up her thighs exposing her stocking covered legs. He grabbled with the garters that prohibited him from removing her underwear. He unsnapped each button. She pushed her body away from the desktop allowing him to pull her underwear away from her body. She set her bottom back on the desktop. Unhinging his belt, she tugged, and pulled until it loosened. Then she unbuttoned, and unzipped his brown slacks. They fell to the floor. The red boxer briefs he wore hugged his muscled thighs. The white waistband encircled his pale skin. Her body tingled with anticipation of having him inside of her. “Sinclair, I don‟t have a condom.” She considered his words. “Chance, we‟ve already been together, we live

202

together. We‟ve both been checked, and tested. I want to feel you.” Chance didn‟t speak. He smiled, and kissed her hard. The force of his kiss sent her backwards on his desk. He flipped her body around to the length of the desk. She tucked her hands into the waistband of the briefs, and slid her hands over his butt and legs as she removed his underwear. His body stretched the length of hers. He covered her body with his as she lay on top of his desk. Defiant of everything and everyone they made love in the middle of Carni‟s corporate offices.

Much later that night, Chance hovered over his laptop. He shifted money around in various accounts, shut the computer down, and quietly tiptoed out of the bedroom in an effort not to wake Sinclair. It took three orgasms, and two glasses of wine to get her to sleep. He knew he wanted to love, and take care of her, but now because of him, her last thirty days at Carni‟s were much harder than they needed to be. It was late, but he knew he was always welcome to call Georgia. He picked up the phone, and dialed. Mrs. Mosley answered. “Hello, Mrs. Mosley.” He sat on his couch, and turned on the television. He quickly muted the sound. “Hi Baby. Why are you still awake?”

203

“Today was a rough day. Sinclair went through a lot. She‟s sleeping now.” “Is she okay?” asked Mrs. Mosley with a voice filled with worry. “Yes, ma‟am. She‟s okay.” She sighed. “And what about you, Sweetie?” Chance ran his fingers through his hair. “I‟m fine. I just didn‟t want this to happen. I wanted her to leave here okay.” “Don‟t worry about our Clair. She‟s stronger than she looks.” Chance rolled his head in circles. His neck popped in three places. “I‟m not worried, but I don‟t want her to be unhappy. I had this great big plan, and my plan made things worse.” “Well, Sweetie, we‟ve had people working on her Granny‟s house night and day. She‟s going to love it. And we love you. We always wanted our Clair to find someone like you.” “Umm, Mrs. Mosley—” “Sweetie, are you getting cold feet.” Chance had absolutely no doubts about his plans with Sinclair. “Cold feet? No ma‟am.” “Well, Sweetie, don‟t you worry about anything down here. You do what you need to do, and everything else will be okay.” “Yes ma‟am.”

204

“Mr. Mosley wants to speak to you, but you get some sleep, and give him a call back tomorrow, when you have time.” “Yes ma‟am.” “And you might as well stop calling me ma‟am. Mom will do just fine.” “Yes, Mom.” “Good night, baby.” Chance hung up the phone, walked back to the bedroom, and snuggled up with Sinclair. He had to speed up his plan.

Tucked away at a small table nestled against a window at the back of the little American cuisine restaurant, Sinclair sipped on chicken noodle soup. She stared into the bowl as if it held answers for her future. Maybe the noodles would spell out the answers to her questions. She watched the twisted egg noodles surrounded by pieces of carrots and celery and waited. Nothing happened. “Sinclair.” Sinclair looked up from her magic bowl of soup to see Zulema Vargas— Director of Diversity, and Jill Smith—Director of Human Resources. Why were they both here? Where they following her? The magic soup had no answers. Not even a quiver.

205

Both of them made themselves comfortable. They pulled up chairs, and motioned to the waitress to switch their orders to her table. Sympathetic and cautious, Jill asked, “Sinclair, how are you doing?” “I‟m fine. How are you?” “Good. Thank you,” said Jill. Sinclair made eye contact with Zulema. “And you Zulema?” “Very good. Thank you.” “Great. So, why are you ladies here?” The women exchanged knowing glances. Zulema spoke. “We‟re here to check on you. I wanted to know how you were handling things. You only have a few more weeks here.” Jill echoed the sentiment. “I wish I could move you to my department. I wish this wouldn‟t have happened.” “Thank you Jill, but as everyone knows, I‟ve moved out of my apartment. In a few weeks, I‟m going home.” The waitress brought over their plates of food, and set it out in front of them. They thanked the waitress, and continued their conversation. “Sinclair, the things you are going through I‟ve experienced.” Sinclair looked deep into the brown eyes of the petite dark skinned Puerto Rican across from her. She knew they weren‟t sitting in front of her because of

206

her. They wanted to protect themselves. They wanted to protect Carni‟s. To make sure she didn‟t have any intentions of suing or causing any problems after she left. So, there was no need to hide her feelings, and let them know exactly how she was feeling, and what she was thinking. “I can‟t believe all of this is over my falling in love with a man. I really wanted to work hard while I was here, and gain the respect of my co-workers.” “People respect you, Sinclair,” said Jill. Sinclair stared at the beautiful blonde beside her. understand?

How could she

But maybe she did. She is a woman working in a male dominant

environment. “Thank you, Jill.” Jill took her time forming her next sentence. “Sinclair, I have to ask you. How is this going to affect your relationship with Carni‟s?” Ah Ha! The true reason they interrupted her lunch. Both women sat over their empty plates and waited. “What do you mean?” Nervously, Jill searched for words, and asked Zulema for assistance. “Zulema, what are we trying to ask here?” “Sinclair, frankly, I guess we‟re asking, if you plan to take action against Carni‟s or any of Carni‟s employees?”

207

Sinclair pushed her plate away from her, and leaned back in her chair. “Oh, I get it. You want to know if I plan on trying to file any sort of lawsuit against Carni‟s? Is that why you‟ve both been sitting here talking to me?” Both women faces flushed. Jill‟s wan reflection looked almost brick house red, while Zulema‟s darker complexion had more of a burgundy tint. “Sinclair, we were not trying to trick you,” said Jill. “No, you know we respect you,” said Zulema. “Sure. Well, ladies, I do not know what I am going to do right now. What I know is I‟ve only got a few more weeks here. I have to complete my papers, and take care of a few other things including having you ladies and Daniel complete reviews of me.” “We have been working on those reviews.” Jill handed Sinclair two manila folders. Both contained lengthy printouts addressed to the committee reviewing Sinclair‟s program. Jill gave Sinclair another file folder. “Also, if you could review, and sign this document, too, we could put this whole ugly mess behind us.” Sinclair flipped the folder open. “What is this?” Jill said, “It‟s basically a document that says you were satisfied with your experience here at Carni‟s, and you will help us over the next few weeks train your replacement, and you have no outstanding concerns or issues with personnel or Carni‟s management?

208

Sinclair couldn‟t believe what she was hearing. “What? This sounds like some sort of waiver. You guys sit here and tell me you understand. You don‟t know why this happened. You wish I could work in your departments, and then you hand me some sort of ten page long waiver which seems to let everyone off the hook.” Both women said, “No, no—” “Don‟t worry about it. I will read everything. I will think it all over, and let you know what I‟m going to do.” Sinclair called the waitress over, paid her tab, and left. She drove back to Carni‟s corporate office. She sat in the parking lot, and marveled at the reflective metal building. From the outside, it shined like a beacon along the roadside. On a beautiful sunny day, from a distance, it almost sparkled. She walked through the automatic doors on her way to Daniel‟s office, but midway she made a right turn. A turn that lead her toward Raquel. She didn‟t know what she was going to say, but she was going to say something. Raquel wasn‟t there. So, she went to Michael Dickinson‟s office. His office door was closed. Michael hated when people dropped in on him without notice. His secretary was so nervous when people just popped up you would think she would hyperventilate, and pass out on the floor.

209

“Tiffany, I need to see Michael. It‟s very important. Do you know how long his meeting will last?” Tiffany‟s L-shaped desk wrapped around her with a small partition hiding her from people walking through the hallway, but from her vantage point, she could see directly into Michael‟s office, and he could see her, but no one else. Tiffany usually asked all visitors to whisper, to ensure Michael wouldn‟t be disturbed. Softly, she said, “I‟m not sure. He‟s in there with Raquel.” “Raquel!” Sinclair didn‟t want to get Tiffany in trouble, so she lowered her voice. “Walk away from your desk, now.” Tiffany stared for a moment, but then she obeyed, and quietly she rose and walked away. Sinclair waited for a second, inhaled deeply, and then she tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. She walked in. “Hello Michael, Raquel.” Both of them looked up at Sinclair with surprised expressions. Michael stood. “Sinclair, what are you doing in my office?” Raquel didn‟t move. She took a deep breath, but then she let go. “Michael, you and your

210

daughter involved yourself in my personal life for no reason. I‟ve never done anything to either of you.

I came here to work.

I understand a father‟s

commitment to his daughter, but you were willing to risk people‟s jobs for what? Nothing. A spoiled girl‟s pride.” “What!” exclaimed Raquel. “Raquel, grow up. You‟ve played so many high school games that it makes absolutely no sense.” Michael pointed at the door. “Sinclair, you can leave my office, now.” “Michael, I will be leaving. But, so will both of you.” Raquel and Michael glared at Sinclair, and then they looked at each other. “What does that mean?” asked Raquel. She wasn‟t sure herself, but if two of the company‟s damage control hounds were sent to sniff her out on her lunch, she was sure there was something she could do, but she just didn‟t know what it was, yet. “Raquel, I think you are smart enough to figure it out.” She walked out of the door leaving it wide open. She could hear Michael and Raquel‟s heated conversation behind her. Michael called for Tiffany. She passed Tiffany standing up against the wall out of sight from Michael. “Tiffany, I think he wants you.” Tiffany scurried back to her desk; grabbed a steno pad, and pen, and entered

211

Michael‟s office, closing the door behind her. Sinclair continued on to Daniel‟s office. She was on a roll. If she was going to drown, she might as well go down hard. Daniel sat at his desk surrounded by windows. His phone was at his ear. He hung up when she walked in. “Daniel.” “Sinclair, sit down.” “No, Daniel, I have a few things to say.” “Don‟t you think you‟ve said enough?” He steepled his hands, and glanced out of the window for awhile. Then he spoke. “I‟ve been on the phone with everyone. I haven‟t been able to leave my desk. What are you doing, just walking through the building yelling at everybody.” “Daniel—” “Sinclair listen. I know what you are feeling. I‟ve spoken with Jill and Zulema. I told them I didn‟t agree with what they did. Ambushing you at the damn restaurant with papers protecting Carni‟s. don‟t know what to say. But you will stop, now.” “Daniel they all deserved every word.” “Yes they did, but you…we can do it better.” “We?”

212

As for Michael and Raquel, I

“Yes, we. You don‟t have to run around like you are crazy.” Sinclair couldn‟t believe what she was hearing. She thought Daniel would be protecting his own butt, not trying to help her. “Show me the stuff Zulema and Jill gave you.” Sinclair had forgotten about the folders, but she still had them in her hands. They were crushed, but they were there. She handed them to Daniel. “Let‟s take a look at these, make a few phone calls, and see what we can do.” The vice around her head loosened. “Thank you, Daniel.”

213

Chapter Thirteen

Chance walked out of Raquel‟s office laughing. Apparently, Sinclair had the same thing in mind he did. Raquel sat behind her desk red-eyed with a worried expression on her face surrounded by her entourage…all except for one—Bridget. Before he could say anything, Veronica jumped to her rescue. “What are you doing here? Did you come to yell at her like your girlfriend?” Veronica doted on Raquel as short body jerking sobs washed over her. With each sob, she caressed the length of Raquel‟s red mane. He didn‟t know what was going on, but he did plan to do some yelling. “What are you talking about, Veronica?” “It‟s okay, Veronica. She‟s talking about your wild friend walking into my father‟s office without an appointment, screaming at me and my father about you and her...saying your lives are your lives,” Raquel waved a hand in the air in rhythm with her next three words, “etc., etc., etc.” Smiling he responded, “Oh.” “„Oh‟, is that all you have to say?” asked Raquel‟s guard. Veronica dropped her hands from Raquel‟s shoulders, and rounded the desk to square off with Chance. Her hands rested on her hips. He met her challenge, and she retreated

214

closer to the desk. With a wipe of his hand across his face, he hid his smile. “Yeah, is that all? You and Sinclair owe me an apology,” said Raquel. Sidestepping Veronica, he walked toward the desk, placed both hands on the edge, and leaned forward. “Apology? For what? Are you really insane Raquel?” “Insane?” “Yes. You‟ve been trying to sabotage us. Since the beginning, but you couldn‟t, and now you spread all sorts of rumors about why we live together. You‟ve got some nerve telling people she got me drunk, and I got her pregnant, and she refused to abort the baby, so I was stuck. If she were pregnant, I‟d marry her today if she‟d have me.” Hot pink flooded her face. “What?” Veronica shuffled behind him. He shot her a quick glare, and she stilled. He glanced around the room at her other mignons. No one spoke. Some shifted their eyes away as he met their stares, then he turned his attention back to Raquel. “She would never have to get me drunk,” he glanced up and down Raquel. Strawberry blonde, pale skin, green eyes, petite—attractive. Attitude. A spoiled, privileged brat. Never worked hard for anything in her life. “But you did. Remember?”

215

“What?” Wildly, Raquel threw things from her desk: notepads, pencils, pens. He ducked, but she caught him with the paperclip holder. “Get out of my office.” “Now,” laughter broke up his words, “who‟s yelling?” “Get out. Get out.” The color of her face blended with her hair. Veronica tried to hold her to get her to stop throwing things, but she slapped Veronica, and kept throwing. “Leave me alone. You get out, too. Get out all of you.” Veronica walked out behind Chance with sad puppy dog eyes. He couldn‟t find Sinclair. He went to his office, and called Steve. Steve answered, “Hello.” “Steve, I‟ve thought about everything we‟ve been discussing. It‟s not going to work for me. I‟m sure you‟ll be hearing from Michael or someone soon. I won‟t be staying at Carni‟s as a matter of fact.I won‟t be staying with ScanData.” “Chance, let‟s discuss this face to face.” “No need really, Steve. You let me know where you stood on all of this. This is what I‟m going to do. I‟m going to finish this job. You can send Kristin back, and I can get her up to speed on everything.” “Chance, you are moving too fast.” “No, I should‟ve moved faster. You‟ve got about three weeks. Also, I‟m

216

going to need to work from home for about a week, too. Alright?” He didn‟t wait for an answer. “Okay?” Steve didn‟t respond. “Well, I guess we‟re good. Talk to you later.” Chance hung up. He needed to make another phone call before he left. He kicked his legs up on the corner of his desk, and dialed. “Craig.” “Chance.” “Hey, I am going to have to go down to get some more things taken care of, but this time I‟m going to have to be gone for about a week. I‟m going to need you to watch over everything for me.” “Sure, no problem. How is everything going?” “It‟s been an explosive day.” He laughed, and recounted the day‟s earlier events to Craig. “Have you seen Sinclair? How‟s she doing after all of that?” “I‟ve been looking for her. Her car is still in the lot. She‟s either in HR or with Daniel. I‟ll try to call her again before I leave.” “So, do you think she‟s got any idea what you are planning, yet?” “No. Her parents are helping me with everything.” “Just make sure I get an invitation.”

217

“Of course, let me go and look for her again.” “Okay.” “Bye.”

Hours had passed since Sinclair had walked into Daniel‟s office. A lawyer friend of his had his secretary write up a document based on the papers Jill and Zulema gave her. The two versions were actually almost identical, except for a small clause that nullified the whole agreement with the continued employment of any individuals responsible for the hostile work environment she was forced to endure for two years. She hadn‟t thought of it that way, but after hearing and reading it…she agreed with it. They reviewed everything, and she stuffed it back into the manila folder given to her. “Go home, and sleep on it, Sinclair.

Tomorrow, everything will seem

different.” Sinclair hugged Daniel. “Thank you.” She left, and rushed down the hallway to her office. She checked one of the clocks on the wall. It was seven-thirty. Chance might have left. She wanted to call him to let him know she was on her way home, and fill him in on what had

218

happened. Her office door was closed. Maybe Raquel was on the other side with a bag of rocks or something. Slowly, she twisted the knob, and opened the door. Chance had pushed two chairs together, and slept with his head leaning against the wall. Before she reached him, his eyes opened. He pushed at the chair underneath his feet, and placed them on the ground. He patted his thigh with one hand, and she went to him.

Over dinner, she and Chance laughed, and shared their stories about the day. She felt a little sorry for Raquel. Maybe she shouldn‟t sign, and turn in the document. She showed it to Chance. He read through it. “I think you should do it.” “But, what about you? You‟ll still be here.” “Don‟t worry about me.” Chance cleared away the empty plates, and put them in the dishwasher. “Why not?” “My contract here ends. I‟ll go somewhere else.” He stood with his back to her. “Really? Could you come to Georgia?”

219

“Georgia.” She walked into the kitchen, and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Yeah, it would be so nice. My Grandmother left me a house. We could fix it up. You could help me with my parents‟ restaurant.” He turned, and encircled her in his arms. “Sounds good.” He kissed the top of her head, then placed a thumb underneath her chin, and lifted her eyes to meet his. “Maybe, but not right away.” Sinclair‟s heart sank. She didn‟t know what she was going to do without him. Coming home to him every night, and waking up with him every morning made her feel so loved. “Okay.” She tried to pull away, and walk into the other room. He didn‟t let her go. Chance hated lying to her. He had every intention of doing everything she asked, and more, but he didn‟t want her to know. Not quite yet. “Hey, next week I‟ll be gone. I promised Steve I‟d do one last assignment before my contract ended.” She looked up at him with a question. “Now? You have to leave now?” “I know. It is really poor timing, but I‟ll be back, and you know I‟m flying down right behind you.

I‟ll be there for a few weeks.

engagement.”

220

Then I‟ve got an

Every word he spoke seemed to break her heart more. Sadness covered her face. He couldn‟t take it. He wanted to drop to one knee, and propose to her right there in the kitchen next to the rattling dishwasher, but he had a plan, and part of his plan included a gift his father had left him for his future. One he hadn‟t thought about much, but now he knew what he wanted that future to be, and who he wanted it to include. “Baby, why don‟t you go and call your mother. I know she‟ll make you feel better. Let me work on some of the paperwork I brought home before bed.” He tapped her softly on her bottom. Maybe he shouldn‟t have. His body instantly responded to the feel of her supple body. At that moment, he didn‟t want her to walk away, especially not unhappy. Heavy footed, she trekked to the master bedroom. Once more, he glanced over his shoulder. He sat at the table, and pulled out the pictures of engagement rings and the contractors‟ work her mother had sent him. Even though he didn‟t want to leave, he needed to fly down buy the ring, and inspect the work. The deadline loomed. He didn‟t think the contractors would finish on time, but her Mom, his Mom, thought they would. After hours of review, he had scribbled several notes in the margins of the printed pages. He stashed the pages away in his briefcase, and joined Sinclair in bed.

221

Sinclair tightly gripped the manila folders in her hand as she labored down the hall toward her meeting. Once or twice, she stopped to catch her breath. The black suit she‟d chosen to wear constricted her breathing. With the flick of a few buttons, the suit jacket flew open, and she felt slightly better. Jill or Zulema had called her every day for the past week asking her about the papers. She‟d wanted to sit on it for a while. She wasn‟t getting cold feet or anything, but she did want Chance to be with her, but he couldn‟t. Whether they agreed, and signed or called her crazy, and cursed her out, she didn‟t know. But, she wanted to come home, and curl up on her side of the bed next to him when it finished. They‟d decided to meet in Jill‟s office. Zulema sat in one of the two chairs positioned in front of the desk. Cachinnated laughter met her at the door. “What‟s so funny?” Both women gawped at her. Clearing her throat, Jill said, “Nothing Sinclair. Come in.” The air in the room whispered Sinclair‟s name. She knew for a fact from the innocent look in their eyes that their conversation definitely had been about her. “I‟m glad you agreed to meet with us today, Sinclair,” said Zulema. Sinclair joined the two women, and sat in the empty chair next to Zulema. She reached into her manila folder, and withdrew their copies of her college

222

reviews. Their opinions of her work along with Daniels, and her sales reports would all count toward her field study, and her Masters. Then she handed each of them a copy of her revised HR waiver. Without urgency or irritation, she waited for each woman‟s reaction. Zulema signed her review and returned it to Sinclair, then Jill. Jill read over the waiver, first. Heedfully, she turned each page, initialing each one as she read. Zulema flipped through the pages with more ease. Jill stalled. Sinclair could only assume she had finally reached her revised pages. Jill‟s heated glare met Sinclair‟s calm gaze. Jill tapped her pen on the page she was reading. “Sinclair, what is this?” She spoke directly to Zulema. “Did you see this?” Her pen tapped at the page. Zulema‟s languid page turn halted. “What page are you on?” “Page six.” Zulema flipped backwards until she reached page six. Each word darkened her complexion. “What do you mean?” asked Sinclair. “What‟s this clause Sinclair?” “Read it to me.” Jill heeded her request, and read the clause. “Oh, that one. What do you think it is?” asked Sinclair.

223

“Sinclair, answer me.” Jill had anger in her voice. “Jill I refuse to leave here, and have Raquel and her father after all they‟ve done to me sit here at their desk like nothing happened.” Zulema said, “You didn‟t make us aware of your dissatisfaction.” Sinclair shifted in her seat to face Zulema. “Well, I‟m making you aware of it, now.” “Sinclair, we could fight you on this.” “Yes, you could, but do you think you‟d win? Fight me if you want.” Sinclair couldn‟t believe the words came out of her mouth, but they did. “Sinclair, I thought we had an understanding,” said Jill. “No, we didn‟t, but now we do.” She stood. “Take your time, and think about it.” If she stayed a moment longer, she didn‟t know exactly what she‟d say or do. Without another word, she turned, and walked out of the office as easily as she walked in. This time, there was no laughter. The days that passed were quiet. She didn‟t hear anything from Jill, Zulema, Raquel or Michael. She hadn‟t even seen Veronica. Jill walked into her office on her last day, without knocking. With a limp wrist, she flung a copy of the waiver at her without one single red line. Cool judgment told her to flip through each page. “Nothing has been changed. You can sign it.”

224

She glanced up from the pages. “It‟s not like I don‟t trust you or anything.” Then she returned her attention to the document. As she read, Jill verbally renounced Michael, Raquel, and Veronica‟s actions.

She also noted that an

assistant in her office resigned. Jill didn‟t say much more after that. Sinclair signed, and Jill left. Chance met Sinclair at her office promptly at 5:00 P.M. Together, they walked to the cafeteria where everyone Sinclair had worked with surrounded a table loaded with cake and gifts.

Janet, Daniel, Craig, Bridget, Sharon and

everyone else in the room embraced Sinclair as if she walked a receiving line at a wedding. She succumbed to the emotion in the room. With Chance by her side, she ate cake, unwrapped gifts, and laughed.

Sinclair‟s flight home to Georgia wasn‟t scheduled to leave for a few days, but she felt hollow inside. Chance would not be with her every day. She would actually have to wait a week or two before he joined her, and then he‟d only be there for a few weeks. Chance lay naked beside her watching television. He surfed through the channels without any sort of goal: shiny car, loud sports event, half naked woman, interchangeably they caught his attention for a short moment. The only thing she

225

could think about was that in a day or two he would not be beside her, but a thousand miles away. How could he be so calm? She snuggled next to him. “Will you miss me?” The remote control fell from his hand.

He cupped her bottom, and

embraced her. “I already miss you.” Salty tears mixed with their kisses. As their passion increased everything around her disappeared. Her focus was on him. Chance‟s skin tingled as Sinclair softy dragged her erect nipples the length of his body. When she reached his groin, she used her hands to control and direct the up and down movement of her breasts along the length of his stiffening rod. Her wet tongue circled his penis focusing on the underside. Each tender touch of her tongue heightened his joy. Her breasts kneaded his organ with the stealth of a trained masseur. For a moment, she halted, but only to crawl up his body, and tend to his hard nipples while her hand continued to stroke his rod. Her mouth reached his neck, and he couldn‟t take it. He flipped her onto the bed, threw her legs over her head, and plunged his body deep into hers. Her inadvertent exclamation scared him. “Are you okay?” “Yes.” She grabbed his butt, and pulled him deeper. The sensation overwhelmed him. He sped up his thrusts to match his excitement. She moaned; he panted. They both convulsed, and then Chance

226

rested for a moment on top of her until he realized the weight of his body was pressing her into the mattress.

Sinclair cried the entire time they were at the airport. She wouldn‟t leave his side to head for her gate until minutes before her flight. She didn‟t care if she missed it, but he needed her to get on her flight so he could get on his. He‟d arranged everything with the packers, movers, as well as organizing the transport for his car by train, and Craig would take care of any loose ends. He hurried through the small airport to the other side where United‟s flights departed. After stuffing his bag in the overhead compartment, he belted himself in, and leaned against the headrest behind him. He stared out the window, and imagined Sinclair‟s reaction to his plans for them. He fell asleep staring at the clouds over Pennsylvania. An hour and a half later, Chance awakened from his deep sleep, first by the sound of the landing gear, and then by the bounce and vibration of the wheels on the runway. He was in Atlanta, Georgia. Sinclair‟s parents wanted to pick him up from the airport, but he opted for a taxi to avoid questions and suspicion. Sinclair‟s parents had taken care of everything: new windows, hard wood floors, stainless steel appliances in the kitchen. The house smelled brand new.

227

The money from his father‟s life insurance policy renovated the house, helped Mr. and Mrs. Mosley with the restaurant, bought the ring in his pocket, and they still had enough in the bank for a rainy day. He took his bags to their new bedroom, closed the door sat on the floor and waited. He heard the front door open. It felt like forever waiting for them to enter the room, but when Sinclair entered he forgot he‟d been waiting. He wanted the expression on her face to be frozen in his mind forever. Her smile filled him with joy as she ran into his arms, and sobbed on his chest. Her parents stood in the doorway behind her. Tears ran down his future mother-in-law‟s, his mom‟s face. He stared at his mom and dad, then at the woman he wanted to be his wife. Sinclair gazed into his eyes. “Did you do all of this?” “We all did it.” “I can‟t believe you‟re here.” “I told you I‟d be right behind you.” He dropped to one knee “I‟ve never met a woman I couldn‟t live without, until I met you. For so long, I‟ve been alone. I don‟t want that anymore. I want to share my life and my name with you. Will you marry me?”

228

Teardrops rolled down her cheeks, and dripped into his hair. She tried to wipe them away, but he stopped her. His hands trembled. The ring he held between his fingers shook, but he slid the ring on her finger, and waited. “Yes.” A simple word, but it changed his life. He held her, tightly. He would never let her go. For the first time, he‟d given love a chance.

The End

229

www.AngelaKayAustin.com

Author Bio:

Currently, I work as a Director of Marketing and Promotions for a privately owned commercial real estate development company. Formerly, I wrote for Rithm ‘n Blues, a webzine. I am a member of RWA, Washington Romance Writers, Chick Lit Writers of America, and From the Heart Romance Writers.

Red Rose Publishing Love‟s Chance

230