One in a Million

by Adrianne Byrd

  * * *

  Gregory had waited for ten days on pins and needles for the HLA test results. The test determined weather he had six out of six matching human leucocyte antigens to be approved for the bone marrow transplantation. Only been an hour had past since he arrived at Tech Design from the hospital, but to him, it seemed like a lifetime. He wanted to go back and more time with his son.

  The attachment he felt for Demetrius, had formed instantly and the bond of friendship had a great impact on both of them.

  The news of Whitney and Demetrius sent Lenny in shock. Gregory had to admit that it was an incredible story. He was a father.

  A board meeting buzzed on around him while he kept averting his eyes to his watch. Aton Brown, the corporate attorney, addressed the Board while Gregory tried to control his thoughts from returning to Whitney and Demetrius.

  Gregory looked at his watch again, he was passed ready to end this meeting. A questioned that Whitney had asked echoed in his mind. Did they have what it takes to make a new relationship? They had shared a three-month love affair more than ten years ago.

  Gregory shook his head against the negativity. They possessed something different, something mystic; they had magic. She felt it, too. He was sure of it. She had to feel the electricity between them every time they touched or felt the rapture that burned like an inferno whenever their lips met. Yes, she felt it, too, he was sure of it.

  He smiled and was unaware that by that simple act, he had caught the attention of every member of the board.

  Aton stumbled over his words then stuttered his way back on track.

  Lenny pressed his lips together to refrain from laughing aloud.

  Gregory retreated from his stupor to check the progress of the meeting but by that time, everyone had camouflaged their curiosity and feigned interest in the attorney’s speech. Moments later, Gregory absently twirled a gold pen in his hand as he was, again, transported to another time.

  Last night, he and Whitney had dinner at his favorite restaurant, Philabusters. After dinner, they shared confessions and regrets. Now, they had started a new chapter in their relationship. Actually, they had started a lot of new chapters within the last ten days and he had a wonderful feeling that they were to be the best chapters in his book of life.

  He smiled again. The meeting stopped and everyone turned questioning gazes toward Lenny, who, quickly mouthed the words 'I'll tell you, later,' so the meeting would resume before their President noticed the silence.

  Gregory thought about Whitney's laugh. It held a musical ring to it that had always affected him. He wished that he could always make her laugh, make her smile; smiles that made her eyes twinkle and force both dimples to make an appearance. His heart flourished from the celestial vision.

  Lenny leaned to his right and caught Gregory's attention to do likewise. "You're causing a scene with that smile of yours," he whispered.

  Gregory's eyes traveled to the other participants in the room and found everyone's attention focused on him. He cleared his throat, then lifted a quizzical brow at the speaker.

  Embarrassed, Aton looked away, tried to control his slight stutter, then attempted to finish the report. As Gregory roamed his gaze to the other members, they, too, averted their eyes, but the women did a miserable job of hiding their smiles.

  * * *

  An hour later, Lenny followed Gregory into his office and closed the door behind him.

  "You got it bad."

  Gregory slid behind the desk, signaled that he needed a moment, then picked up the phone. He cut his secretary off before she could utter her greeting. "Barbara, do I have any messages?"

  "Yes, Mr. Woods. But there were none from Egleston."

  He hid his vexation and rubbed the tension from the middle of his forehead as he jotted down the few messages that he had received.

  "Thanks, Barbara. I'll take my lunch appointment but please clear the rest of the schedule for me."

  "Yes, Mr. Woods."

  Once they disconnected, Gregory dialed the hospital. "Dr. Rothstein, please."

  Lenny took his usual seat in front the desk. He crossed an ankle onto his knee and watched with equal amount of concern laced in Gregory's voice.

  "Yes, this is Gregory Woods. Tell him to give me a call when he's available. Thank You." He hung up and pressed his weight into the back of the chair, then expelled in one long sigh of frustration.

  "You look like hell," Lenny finally commented.

  "Thank you," Gregory said, loosening his tie. "I feel like hell." He bridged his hands together and shook his head. "It's this damn waiting that's driving me crazy."

  The phone rang and he bounded upright in his chair to grab the phone before it finished the first ring.

  "Gregory Woods."

  "Hello, Greg."

  He relaxed. "Whitney." At her silence, his concern grew. "Is something wrong? How are you? Have you heard anything?"

  Lenny stood. "I'll check in on you later," he whispered, then left the office.

  "I'm a nervous wreck." She gave a stilted laugh.

  Gregory heard the defeat in her voice and ached to soothe her worries. He had trouble balancing his own anxieties and comforting her own.

  "Have you heard anything?" They asked in unison which gave each their answer at the same instant.

  The exasperation he felt thinned his patience. The silence over the phone caught his attention again. "How are you feeling?" He heard a slight sniffle and knew that she had been crying. "Whitney?"

  "I'm doing as well as can be expected."

  Gregory heard someone paging over an intercom and knew that she was still at the hospital.

  "Demetrius had his chemotherapy today." More sniffles. "I hate this." Her sudden sobs tore at his heart.

  "I'm on my way." He hung up, then dashed from behind his desk in the same fluent motion. When he rushed past Barbara, he gave one order. "Cancel my lunch appointment."

  * * *

  The ride to Egleston Hospital was a blurry haze as his mind centered on getting to his family. The frustration, worry and anxieties that raged within him were new combinations to him. The realization of the life Whitney had subjected herself to, and had dealt with alone, did nothing to ease his anguish.

  Pride, he realized, was a destructive emotion and it had almost cost him the one thing that meant the world to him now, his family. He rushed through the hospital doors with long, confident strides, found Whitney in a matter of minutes, and imprisoned her in his arms.

  Instinctively, he knew, when they were on the phone, she would never have asked him outright for comfort but he realized that was the real reason she had called. Pride, he thought again. It was time for both of them to learn how to defeat the emotion.

  Whitney locked her arms around him like a steel vise. "I hate this," she moaned into his chest.

  Gregory kissed the top of her forehead and listened to her muffled sobs. "Go ahead," he comforted in hushed tones. "Let it all out."

  They held each other for a long time. Strangely enough, Whitney's tears were also outlets for him. When she pulled back, his heart broke at the sight of her bloodshot eyes. He looked up, worried about Demetrius. "How is he?"

  "He's sleeping." She sniffed and wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. "He tries so hard to be strong."

  Gregory gave her a handkerchief and pushed some of her wayward strands of hair from her face.

  She attempted to smile. "Thanks for coming."

  "Don't thank me." He struggled with the emotions in his voice. "I needed and wanted to be here."

  Her smile wobbled but it remained sincere. "I guess I'm just used to dealing with this..."

  "Alone?"

  More tears trailed down Whitney's cheeks as she nodded. Gregory reclined his head and kissed each tear, then lifted his warm gaze to seek her own.

  Whitney melted. She hadn't the strength to pull away from his hypnotizing eyes. It was odd how she seemed to fit perfectly against him as if she was the missing piec
e to the puzzle of his body. As their gazes remained locked together, he spoke from his heart. "You will never go through anything alone." He peppered her nose with kisses. "Never again."

  She believed him. The knowledge that he would always be there for her had a calming effect. The tears subsided and she stepped out of his embrace and acknowledged the awkward silence that hung between them.

  Gregory felt the wall she was trying to build between them and wanted to yell for her not to do it, beg her even. Instead, he watched her try to collect herself.

  Dressed in a pair of button-fly jeans, an Atlanta Underground T-shirt, and a pair of black and white Reeboks, she resembled the UCLA student he met years ago. He slammed both fists into his pockets and out of habit rocked on the balls of his feet.

  "Have you eaten lunch?"

  Whitney looked shamefaced. "No. Actually I haven't really thought about eating today."

  "Let me take you to get something to eat."

  She shook her head exuberantly. "I want to be here when he wakes up. I brought some of his favorite books, too." She turned and picked up an oversized book bag.

  "Then we can get something here."

  She hesitated.

  "Whitney."

  A chill of euphoria caressed her and she crossed her arms in vain to protect herself from its effect.

  "Whitney, you're not going to be any good for either of us if you don't take care of yourself."

  She loved the sound of possession in his voice and closed her eyes to bathe in the tranquility of comfort that he offered. She smiled.

  "Thirty minutes, that's all I'm asking. It's long enough to shovel some food into your empty stomach and promptly return you to our son's side." He smiled. Our son, he loved the way that sounded.

  Whitney took a deep breath. "I don't know why I bother arguing with you. You never take 'no' for an answer."

  "I wonder why myself."

  That succeeded in making her laugh.

  Bowing at the waist to exaggerate his gallantry, he asked, "Shall we?"

  The twinkle in her eyes danced and she exaggerated the sway of her hips as she sauntered by him. "We shall."

  * * *

  The next evening, Whitney raced across her bedroom in a pair of lacy, black underwear and thigh-high stockings. It's only a business dinner.

  Yolanda puttered behind her.

  "How about this one?"

  Whitney turned to stare at the racy, see-through dress, then gave Yolanda a you've-got-to-be-kidding look.

  "Okay, Miss Thang. I know that I have something here you'll like."

  Whitney wanted to give up. She didn't own a descent thing to wear to this extravagant dinner party. Why did I accept this crazy invitation?

  Yolanda, pumped up in three inch heels, gleefully paraded around the small bedroom with an outfit in each hand. The news of Whitney's date had Yolanda more excited than her friend.

  For every thin, racy or material-less outfit that Yolanda suggested, Whitney felt more inclined to cancel the date. Another hour passed, and Whitney plopped down on the bed and shook her head that held dozens of pink rollers. It was hopeless. It was already seven-thirty, and Gregory would be there within the hour.

  Yolanda dropped beside her and the three pierced holes in each ear jingled with gold-looped earrings. Whitney had to admit that her friend's beautifully weaved beehive hairdo and gel-slick sides were truly a work of art.

  "I don't know why you're being so difficult. There is nothing wrong with the dresses I brought over here tonight. You can forget backing out of this date, too. You're going to that dinner party if I have to help Ted drag you there."

  "Greg," Whitney corrected.

  "You know who I meant."

  "I don't know why I agreed to even go."

  Yolanda scratched the side of her face with one long, curvy acrylic red nail. "Let me see. The brother is the President of some fancy-dancy company that's smack dab in the center of downtown Atlanta, which tells me, my man is bank like Hank. He's apparently crazy about you and Lord knows you're strung out over him. And he's your baby daddy." She rolled her neck to look at Whitney. "I say that you're a fool if you let this brother get away."

  Whitney laughed at both Yolanda's comic expression and sense of humor.

  "The truth is, Baby Girl, that you've got a second chance. Few people get that. I have to believe that he's your knight in shining armor, riding to save Demetrius... and you."

  At Whitney’s skeptical look, Yolanda's smile beamed with joy. "Come on. Don't you believe in magic?"

  * * *

  Gregory couldn't get his tie to cooperate. He tried it again, then hurled the thing away in disgust. Maybe he should call the whole damn thing off. Perhaps, it was the fact that he spent another day waiting for test results that never came.

  Maybe they would know something by tomorrow. The test results plus his first social event with Whitney had his nerves jumbled and tied into knots. He looked at the clock. Eight-fifteen. He was going to be late.

  * * *

  Whitney was breathtaking. Gregory's eyes traveled the entire length of her. Perfect ringlets of hair were swept up in the back while the top section fell in a cascade of curls around her face. The short, body-hugging dress was the color of golden champagne and lace. When she turned, he saw the back dip low to expose her creamy back. Magnificent.

  "Do you like it?"

  Is she kidding? "You look exquisite. I see now that I'm going to have to keep you by my side all night. That or fight every man that captures your attention."

  She laughed. He looked stunning, too, standing there in his smoky-colored tuxedo. The suit had to have been tailor made, she thought, the way it dipped and enhanced every curve of his body.

  "Shall we?" He bowed gallantly.

  Feeling flirtatious again, Whitney swung her hips to an enchanting tune and led him out of her apartment. She heard him grunt out an 'ump, ump, ump,' and felt herself blush.

  When he joined her, they heard an apartment door across the hall slam shut. Whitney hid her smile, knowing it was Yolanda trying to get a good look at Gregory without being caught.

  Gregory offered her his arm and she accepted.

  Whitney couldn't remember the last time she rode in a limousine. It was probably the night of her senior prom, but this one was so elegant. A miniature wet bar, color TV, and wide spacious, leather seats. Gregory turned a knob and a soothing love ballad from Seal established the mood.

  Whenever she looked up, she found his gaze already on her. The sound of her breathing intensified in her ears and the beat of her heart was even louder.

  Gregory took his time to admire the flawlessness of her beauty. He recognized the ache in his soul for what it was, a ravenous hunger of primordial passion a.k.a. lust. Visions of Whitney lying against a backdrop of champagne-silken sheets flooded his mind. The image of her lusciousness draped in fire-engine red lingerie, quickened his pulse. He could see her face framed with ringlets of hair while she pouted with equally red lips. He blinked the fantasy away.

  When Gregory stared back into her hypnotic eyes, he saw the reflection of his own desire. Slowly, his gaze lowered to a silver locket that sat along the crest of her breasts. He lifted a finger to trail down the silver chain. Whitney's sharp intake of air when he touched her skin wasn't lost on him as he began to enjoy their slow dance of seduction.

  He snapped the small locket open and found a picture of them.

  "Do you remember when we took this picture at Six Flags?" She caressed his shocked expression.

  Of course he remembered the fun theme park. "I have the same picture at home."

  She smiled from the warm glow of that knowledge.

  "I remember everything about that summer." He turned toward the bar and removed two glasses. He poured Merlot into their glasses then lifted his to propose a toast. Whitney followed his lead.

  "To new beginnings," he said in a husky, seductive voice.

  The effect melted her defenses. Gregory watched as
her full lips parted ever so slightly to reveal perfect, pearl-white teeth.

  She clinked her glass against his own. "To new beginnings," she agreed.

  The party was like nothing Whitney had ever experienced. Beautiful women were donned the arms of prestigious men like expensive trophies. Everyone had fascinating homes and wonderful careers. The women talked of the latest fashion and the juiciest gossip. It took Whitney one full minute to feel out of place.

  True to his word, Gregory kept her by his side, but she wondered about the open stares she received from his colleagues.

  A familiar-looking gentleman approached them, then spoke directly to her. "I don't believe that we've been properly introduced. Allow me. My name is Leonard Danza, Vice President of Tech Design."

  Whitney extended her hand and returned his smile. "Whitney Jackson. It's a pleasure to meet you." She looked over to Gregory then back to Lenny. "Where have I heard your name before?

  The men shared a laugh. "Gregory and I have been best friends since childhood. We also attended Georgia State University together. However, I was in Puerto Rico the summer you guys met. I'm sure he has mentioned me a time or two."

  She nodded. "Leonard affectionately known as Lenny?"

  Lenny bowed his head. "At your service." An attractive, African-American, woman slid into his arms, and this is my beautiful wife, Jan Danza.

  The women shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.

  "Lenny told me about your situation with little Demetrius. I want you to know that I have him in my prayers."

  Whitney instantly liked the woman. "Thank you."

  Later, Whitney excused herself to go to the powder room. She waited in a short line for the facilities and noticed that she had captured everyone's attention. She had to check out her appearance against the opposing wall to see if perhaps something was out of place.

  A stall became free and she disappeared behind its door. She released a nervous sigh. When she emerged from her temporary hiding place, the bathroom occupancy had multiplied.

  The first woman who approached her with a ready smile and a vanity aura introduced herself. "Hello. My name is Lisa Briley."

  "Whitney Jackson." She accepted the woman's icy hand.