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.”
“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 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. 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.” 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.
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 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 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 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 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 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 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.”
“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.”
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 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.
Love's Chance Page 9
