Chicago Hope

by Carmen DeSousa

  “You don’t look invisible to me,” said the well-dressed man she’d rambled to … a man she’d never seen.

  “Well,” she huffed out a chuckle, “I guess that’s not completely true. People sure know how to find me when they need something.” She pushed the Down arrow again. “Did you enjoy the party?”

  “Okay, I guess. Weren’t you there?”

  “Yes, I’m the invisible woman, remember?”

  He laughed and leaned back against the wall. “I thought I saw something shimmer past me. I just assumed the old building was haunted.”

  She cocked her head, tickled he was playing along … and looking at her face. Most of the men she worked with had a difficult time holding her eyes, let alone a conversation. Not that she tried to talk with them about anything other than work. No office romances … ever. But she never understood why men and women couldn’t just be friends. If she did talk to a man, he almost always asked her out on a date.

  “Do you work here?” she asked. “I’ve never seen you.”

  “Well, they didn’t actually announce that I would be working here when they made my big introduction and, technically, I don’t start until January, so don’t tell anyone. I only came because I was hoping to meet some interesting people at the company Christmas party.”

  He was obviously joking with her again. The company didn’t make big introductions. The employees were just that — employees. She lifted her head. “Did you meet any interesting people?”

  Jessica had been known to have one too many drinks and get frisky with the underlings. Maura hoped the new man hadn’t run into the minx while she was doing her karaoke rendition of Donna Summer’s Last Dance.

  He glanced at his wrist and chuckled. “It’s nine o’clock on a Friday night, and I’m dipping. What do you think?”

  A giggle escaped her lips. “True. So you’re new here, but obviously from Chicago.”

  He cocked his head and chuckled. “How do you know I’m from Chicago? I spent years in other parts of the world, then went to college and worked in L.A. I thought I did a good job of suppressing the accent. What gave me away?”

  “Dipping. I’m from North Carolina. We certainly have our crazy southern idioms, but I’ve had to learn to speak the lingo here, lest I be ousted.”

  “You’ve done a great job. I hardly detect a southern accent.” He held out a large, well-manicured tanned hand. “I’m Rick Figueroa.”

  She accepted his hand. “Maura Hall.”

  “So, tell me, Maura, why are you leaving this exciting party?”

  The elevator dinged, and she stepped inside. “I ran behind at work, then realized I forgot to eat, and all the food is gone.”

  Rick stepped in beside her. “I was just thinking of getting pizza. I haven’t had a good slice in a while. Care to join me? Maybe you can give me the lowdown on things.”

  “Umm … it’s late.”

  He peeked at his watch again without really looking. “It’s nine o’clock. If we rush, we can make it to Lou’s before closing.”

  “I really shouldn’t …” she told him, then internally finished why she shouldn’t, leave the building with a man I just met outside the elevator.

  “It’s just pizza, Maura. Truly, I wanted to meet some interesting people, but then they started up the karaoke machine.”

  She covered her mouth. “Oh, yes, the famous karaoke.”

  “So you know what I mean.”

  “I do. Okay, I guess, but I warn you, I try not to keep up on the gossip.” She couldn’t eat pizza, but Lou’s had great salad and bread.

  Rick nodded as if he got that and smiled. “I don’t really care to hear the gossip. I want the real behind-the-scenes info about what employees and the community think of our great company.”

  He touched the button for the garage.

  The garage, she thought. Oh, crap!

  As he stared up at the numbers, she bit her lip. What am I thinking? He didn’t say a date, but isn’t leaving the workplace with a man to eat considered a date? And no one saw me walk in, let alone leave … I don’t know this man. So why am I going to the garage with him?

  “Umm, Rick, maybe I should just …”

  He turned to her, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Do you have a husband at home, or a big sister?”

  “Why?” she asked, all humor gone from her tone. It’s none of your business whom I have at home, she wanted to say but held her tongue. He certainly isn’t expecting me to take him to my place, is he? Maybe that’s how they do it in L.A., but not where I’m from.

  “Here.” He pulled out his license and handed it to her. “Take a pic and send it to your best friend. Heck, if I were a woman, I’d do it every time I went out.”

  Maura laughed. “Oh … Yeah, well … I don’t date much, but … since you offered.” She snapped a pic, but she didn’t send it to Brittany, who would only say, Girl, why you texting me when you have that hunk of a man in front of you?

  The elevator door opened, and Rick only walked a few feet before clicking a remote. The lights of a Silver Toyota Tacoma flashed in unison with a quick chirp. Front row. He must have arrived to work early. Nice to see a man who takes his job seriously.

  Maura’s eyes drifted from Rick’s glossy black boots to his dark gray suit. She wasn’t a clothing guru, but she recognized quality. Rick hadn’t been hired as an editorial assistant like her; the man was wearing a five-thousand-dollar suit. She doubted he bought it just to return it, as she’d done with formalwear in the past. Just like Jessica, the execs made big bucks, while lowly editorial assistants who did all the work barely made a buck above minimum wage.

  He walked past her and held open the front passenger door. She inspected the captain’s chair and the footwell. Clean. No smell of smoke … or the blood of his last date.

  She sat down and looked up as he started to close the door.

  “I promise I won’t bite,” he offered. “I’m hungry for pizza. I’m not a vampire or a werewolf, I swear.”

  Maura gulped but felt a smile tug at her lips. Rick was funny. He didn’t act like the talent, as Jim reminded her daily. And maybe he’d just lucked out and landed a great job. He’d said years of college and then L.A., so he probably had more experience than she had. If she’d started in a smaller company back home in North Carolina, she could have gained experience, applied for a position in Chicago, and then waited for the right one to open up instead of fleeing her past.

  Rick jogged around the front and hopped in the driver’s seat. “Man, I’ve been craving deep dish pizza.”

  She smiled. Maybe Rick was just a nice guy. Those still exist, right? He hadn’t molested her with his eyes, anyway. That was a good start.

  Chapter 4

  Maura bit down on the thick buttery crust and sighed. She had covertly popped in a Lactaid as soon as the thick cheesy goodness landed on their table. The last thing she’d wanted to talk about with this enigmatic man was her lactose intolerance when he insisted on ordering a large for both of them. Besides, she was sleeping without man or kid in her bed tonight, so she’d be free to be in pain all night.

  Some things were just worth it. At least he hadn’t ordered pepperoni or sausage, so she didn’t have to bring up the fact that she didn’t eat meat. She did eat fish and eggs, so usually, she never had an issue finding something on a menu. She just hated explaining the differences between vegetarian and pescatarian with someone she may never dine with again.

  “Oh, my God!” He threw his head back after the first bite. “This tastes so good. Do you know when I lived in L.A., I actually got such a craving that I had them Fed-Ex me ten pies, which I froze. Still, not the same.”

  She covered her mouth. “I would think that L.A. has incredible food.”

  “It does. But L.A. doesn’t have this.” He waved a hand at the wall. “Brick and dark wood, sports theme, cold outside, but warm inside. Amazing view … It’s the whole package here. Eating in Chicago is like eating at
your Great Aunt Millie’s … It feels warm and homey, like family.” He turned back to her, grinning with his mouth closed.

  “And L.A. is …?”

  He lifted a free hand. “Cold. Yep, that’s the best way I can describe it. Not cold as in temperature, but metal and plastic … black-and-white kinda cold atmosphere.”

  “Hmm … I’ve never been. I always thought of L.A. as warm and sunny, though.”

  “If you see the sun.” He dabbed at his mouth and sat back, hands on his non-existent stomach. “Sorry. It’s not all bad. But Chicago … While you might not see the sun even in the middle of the day sometimes, the restaurants are amazing.”

  Maura lifted her napkin to her mouth, then surreptitiously ran her tongue over her teeth, hoping she didn’t have any food stuck. That wouldn’t be attractive. Attractive? Had she just thought that? This man might not work in her office, but he was going to work in the building. Office romances were a bad idea. How many men had been transferred after it didn’t work out between Jessica and a new guy?

  Rick stared out the second-story window, glancing down at the traffic. It was still busy with holiday shoppers. The city lights always shone bright, but during the Christmas season, many of the buildings added extra lights and holiday ornaments. Across the street, a procession of golden horns with green wreaths lined the front of the building.

  “So, Maura …” Rick brought her gaze back to him. “What brought you to Chi-Town?”

  That was an easy, not-too-deep question. “My mother’s family is from Chicago, so I have a lot of cousins here. When I graduated, I knew I wanted to work for a large media company, so I packed my bags and moved here.”

  He eyed her as only a journalist could. “And now for the rest of the story …”

  She chuckled nervously. “What rest of the story?”

  “You’re from North Carolina, obviously intelligent. I’m guessing, older than twenty-something … not quite thirty. Twenty-eight?”

  She nodded, slightly impressed.

  “A lot can happen between eighteen and twenty-eight, I know. So you left open a lot of blanks. There has to be more to your story.”

  Maura searched the room. Only one other table remained, and the server was busy cleaning. “I don’t want to sound like a simpleton, but I wanted to make a difference in the world. My mother told me how she grew up in the inner-city, and I wanted to see it. I grew up on a farm outside Fayetteville, in the Sandhills. While we didn’t have a pot to pee in, as my grandmother always said, we always had a roof over our head, food on the table, and land to play. The stories my mother told me about her youth made me long to come here and make a difference.”

  “And have you?”

  She huffed. “Not yet. Have you?”

  He smiled crookedly. “I didn’t say I wanted to make a difference in the world.”

  “But you don’t start until January, and yet … you were in the parking garage before anyone else this morning. You obviously take your job seriously.”

  “Are you stalking me?”

  “No, I’ve just interviewed a lot of people over the last three years. Most who apply here say they want to make a difference, few that Jessica hires rarely try. You’re a new journalist who doesn’t start until January, and yet you got a front-row parking spot, which means you were first to arrive this morning, and then you came to the annual Christmas party to meet interesting people. Even if you don’t want to change the world, you obviously take your job seriously.”

  “Who said I was a journalist?”

  “Well, I cheated. I looked at your date of birth on your driver’s license. Twenty-nine is a bit young for them to hire you as a senior editor —”

  “I didn’t know the company was ageist.”

  “Ugh! I didn’t say that. Do I need to confirm that we’re off the record before I speak?”

  “Nah …” He pulled out his wallet. “I’m just messing with you. Obviously, you know most positions are about who you know.”

  She reached for her purse, but he rested a hand on her arm. “Allow me.” He tossed a metal card on the leather folder, then looked back at her. “You’re right. I was hired to make a difference, too. Tell me, how would you make a difference in Chicago?”

  Maura smiled, happy to share the one thing Jessica had never let her. “I’d give young people hope.”

  After Rick paid the bill, he led her back to his car, then drove toward the company building. “Will you have a drink with me?”

  Maura glanced at her watch. Not that she had to be anywhere. It wasn’t even eleven yet, but it seemed the right thing to do. She couldn’t — shouldn’t — be having drinks with anyone she worked with. To do so, could end badly. Rick was a good listener. A few drinks would loosen her lips. Before she knew it, no telling what she might say. About their employer … Jessica.

  Or worse, it’d been way too long since she’d gone out with an intelligent, not to mention attractive man, and she had no place to be … Those same few drinks might loosen something else, and if it didn’t work out … if he never called her again … Sure, they worked in a massive building with more offices than she could count, but they’d still bump into each other. After work at the bar where she bartended, elevators … Christmas parties. It just wasn’t a good idea, no matter how good he looked, or how sweet he seemed.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she finally said.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to push. Do you have someplace you need to be? I didn’t see a ring.” He flashed a wide grin. “I looked. I’d never ask out a married woman, even for just business, if we were alone.”

  “No … I don’t have any place to be, it’s just …”

  He shrugged. “I won’t push you, but I’d really like to hear your ideas. Like I said, it’s my job to make a difference. A smart manager surrounds himself with smart people. I’m smart.”

  She laughed. “And not at all cocky.”

  He flicked his eyes to her and winked. “I’m really not, but I put on a good show. Come on … You don’t even have to have a drink. I really want to hear your plan.”

  She sighed. “Okay.”

  Rick stopped in front of a wine and tapas restaurant. “Find a seat, and I’ll locate a parking spot.”

  She hopped out, then stared up at the seasonal lights and multiple wreaths embellishing the outside of the building. She and Ben had ridden the Holiday Train to watch the official tree-lighting ceremony in Millennium Park the Friday before Thanksgiving, but they’d yet to put up a tree. Brittany insisted there wasn’t enough room and that like the previous years, they’d put up a plastic one the night before Christmas.

  Her husband had insisted they decorate the day after Thanksgiving and leave it up until New Year’s Day. Here, Christmas was all around her, but not in her home.

  Maura sighed and stepped inside the building. By necessity, memories, like the past, were fading.

  Like most Chicago eateries and drinkeries, the place was deep and narrow with high ceilings. Square footage was precious … and expensive. Landlords made sure they made the most out of rentable space.

  The floor space didn’t seem to be hurting this spot. Passing the bar, she gravitated toward two rows of hightop tables. Across from the tables, a bar attached to a brick wall included stools where individuals could eat from their small plates and sip exotic wines. Too close.

  A long bench that took up the entire back of the restaurant had tables for two lined in front of it. Too intimate. The last option was the bar itself, which could be too impersonal; the bartender would end up doing all the talking.

  She opted for a hightop table.

  A few minutes after she sat, Rick strolled in, removing his overcoat as he approached her. A smile lit up his face as if he were a lover seeing his woman after months at sea.

  She shook her head to eradicate the thought. Colleague. Nothing more.

  To busy her mind, she picked up one of the menus, which turned out to be the wine list.


  He draped his coat over an empty chair across from her, then took a seat catty-corner to her. “What’s good?”

  A business partner wouldn’t have chosen the nearest seat to hers.

  She closed the menu. No way could she choose; everything was crazy expensive. “I’m not sure. I’ve never been here.” She never went anywhere. She could barely afford rent, let alone food, utilities, and school expenses.

  “Neither have I, but it smells great in here, and the YELP reviews look good. I could go for dessert.” He picked up the other menu. “Do you have a preference?”

  “Umm …” Everything would be dripping with butter. She’d have to pop another Lactaid. Still, she’d probably be a balloon by morning. “Not really.”

  “How ’bout the chocolate royal? And …” He reached for the wine list in her hands, his fingers brushing hers. “May I?”

  “Of course.” She relinquished the cardboard, gulping. Why am I here? Oh, right, to talk business. This is what businessmen do. They eat delicious rich food and talk shop. This was what she’d been studying for years: what to say when the moment arose. He actually wanted to hear her ideas, and all she could say was Umm …

  “A dark red, I think,” he said, seemingly oblivious to her emotional state. “Do you like zinfandel?”

  “I do,” she said boldly, channeling her cousin. It only has to be more than business if you make it more. Focus on the goal, Maura. Not the exquisite man next to you.

  A man dressed in black, a denim apron covering his front, approached. A wide welcoming smile made the man look friendly. “Good evening.” He spied the closed menu. “It looks like you know what you want.”

  “I think I do,” Rick said smoothly.

  And just like that, goosebumps crawled up Maura’s arms.

  Business, Maura!

  Rick placed the order for the chocolate royal and zinfandel, then looked around the establishment. “See what I mean? You can just feel the warmth.”