by Cathryn Fox
“He wasn’t man enough to accept you as a friend, then it’s his loss more than yours. It’s like Don all over again. But you can’t be someone you’re not.” Bonnie paused when Roxanne looked up at her. Maybe she didn’t like who she was. She wanted to fall in love with a man. She needed to feel it.
“As for the money. You’ll think of something,” Bonnie finished.
“Oh, I will. But I wish I could come up with something right now.” She needed to clear her mind and think only about the real problem, at lest the one problem she might be able to solve—money.
She did not return Barry’s call.
The Children’s Mercy Hospital League meeting was a regular monthly event and she was worried about squeezing it in with her TV job and not getting fired again for being late or unavailable. As chair, Roxanne couldn’t miss the meetings. She had the floor. She’d worked long hours on her off time to prepare something substantial to give the hospital staff. They looked to her for direction as one of the senior board members as well as chairperson of the League. Most of the men and women were already aware of the new fund being set up, but the major donor and who would be assigned to the project was not decided on yet.
“As committee chair of the Dr. Oki Research Fund,” Roxanne paused as the various people in the room giggled at her mock pomposity. The CMH League volunteers operated as an auxiliary arm to the hospital development staff. Roxanne was the liaison between the league and the hospital. She’d been voted chair because she’d been personally responsible for not only the cover article in Newsweek on Dr. Oki’s research, but for bringing in over five million dollars in two years by carefully choreographed events and contacts.
Dr. Oki smiled at her now. He was in attendance at this meeting at her special request. She continued.
“After establishing the special research fund for Dr. Oki, due to a severe and sudden need which I’m sure you are all aware of by now, I began to explore several avenues of possible sources. We need lots of money fast. We need to run the type of campaign we’ve never tried before. Therefore we will all vote now on my proposal to do a high-powered ad campaign with a major star as spokesperson. Of course we need a substantial amount of up-front money to get this off the ground, but we already have ten thousand dollars.” They clapped when she sat. The vote on the project was close. Roxanne noted a faction of dissent from the same group as always, but they seemed to be louder and more numerous today.
The meeting was adjourned and Dr. Oki smiled appreciatively when he came up to Roxanne. “I have a feeling we’ll do better next year without the grant. You really know how to turn a disaster around.” She responded by giving the doctor a warm hug.
“Don’t be premature. We haven’t got any money in our hands yet,” Laura said. Roxanne looked at her friend Laura with mock disgust.
“Nope. Leave it to you to point that out. But we do have a good plan if I do say so myself.”
“It’s only a good plan if we can carry it off,” Laura persisted. “I noticed Don’s cousin, Roger Smythe, in attendance today, and he, of course, resisted the idea. He never comes to these meetings.”
“True.” Roxanne refused to say or think more of it right then.
“There is one other thing that’s bothering me.” Laura’s tone was serious.
“What is it?”
“Who are we going to get for the spokesperson? We need someone big, and after all, this is pretty much a local campaign. What really big star do we have locally that…” Laura didn’t continue as Roxanne widened her smile with every word.
“I have someone very big in mind. No need to worry.”
Dr. Oki looked from one woman to the other. By the look on Laura’s face, not quite a gasp, not quite a smile, Roxanne knew she had figured out who the spokesperson would be.
“Okay, ladies. I give up. Who is it?”
“Should I tell him? After all, I haven’t confirmed it yet. Maybe I should wait until I know for sure.” Roxanne felt a twinge.
Laura laughed.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure he’ll say yes.” Laura turned to Dr. Oki. “The spokesperson for the Dr. Oki Research Fund will be none other than the illustrious Barry Dennis.”
Dr. Oki’s jaw dropped in astonishment.
“Everyone knows he never does publicity and very little charity work, especially not in the middle of basketball season,” Dr. Oki said.
“Don’t worry, Doc. Barry is a close personal friend of mine.” Roxanne felt compelled to reassure him.
“I’m sure you must know what you’re doing, Roxy, but be careful. I have to be going now. I’m late already.” Dr. Oki left.
Roxanne beckoned Laura to accompany her to the development office. They had planned to work on plans for her holiday benefit gala. The room had a couch and a small round table surrounded by comfortable chairs to serve her nicely when she was there. The two women went into the room and sat at the table. Roxanne could tell that Laura had something to say, but she hesitated for some reason.
“Okay, what is it?”
“I saw you with Barry at the Celtics Tribute party.”
“Yes. That’s what I was saying.”
“You’re using your personal relationship to gain an edge for the fund-raising campaign.”
“Damn it, that’s what we do. That’s what fund-raising is all about, Laura. We all do it.”
“I know. But we don’t all get into trouble over it. I’m thinking about Mark Baines.”
“Barry Dennis is no Mark Baines, believe me. He has no vulnerability. If there’s anyone you should be worried about it’s me. I have a genuine interest in Barry that has nothing to do with this fund-raising campaign.” She decided to admit her fear. “I’m kind of worried about it.”
“Don’t worry. It’s probably temporary. I hear he has that effect on women. I hope the campaign doesn’t interfere in your relationship—the way it did with Mark,” Laura said.
“What do you know about Mark?” Roxanne put down her pencil.
“He called me. He also talked to Harry. I’m surprised Harry hasn’t called you on the carpet about it. I understand you’re no longer dealing with Mark or his company’s project,” Laura said.
“No. I wasn’t going to sell my soul and use his affections. I misjudged the situation with Mark but I’m not going to make the same mistake with Barry. I do intend to influence Barry, however. I will take advantage of my inside opportunities, as we all do in this business, but any expressions of affection will be strictly sincere. None of this will have any effect on our relationship whatsoever—such as it is.” She was confident in spite of the skeptical face Laura had for her.
“If there’s one thing you’re good at, Roxy it’s ignoring possible problems and plunging right in. But whether actual problems crop up or not, you’ll manage in the end. I have no doubt.” Laura patted her arm.
“Thanks. I needed that.” Roxanne thought of Mark and how he would have been invited to her upcoming holiday benefit gala, as they went over the guest list.
“Don’s cousin sent his money in.” Laura announced. Roxanne was surprised he hadn’t let his personal feelings get in the way of a good cause. He was a bigger man than she thought.
“Don’t worry, he won’t actually show up,” she assured Laura.
Two years ago the area’s entertainment community had been solicited to attend the holiday benefit. Several well-recognized celebrities showed up and so the reporters and photographers followed.
The feat now was to maintain a certain number of famous faces among the crowd, and the turnout could be guaranteed year after year. The party had become important, not only because fifty to seventy-five thousand dollars could be generated in one night, but because of the high profile PR that resulted.
That night she walked through the door leading from the garage to her kitchen well after dark. She was still wearing three-inch red heels and the black and white checked suit that she left in that morning. Drinks with Mr. Dently had
dragged on longer than she had anticipated. She avoided looking at the stack of unpaid bills on the kitchen table. Bonnie walked in from her room, already dressed in her robe and slippers.
“You’re awfully late. I don’t suppose you ate any supper?”
Roxanne shook her head no.
“That’s what I thought. You sit and kick off those ridiculous shoes. I’ll pop some beef stew in the microwave. It’s just what you need, a nice hot meal in you.” Bonnie shook her head at Roxanne, so Roxanne figured she must look as beat as she felt and followed the woman’s instructions.
“Bonnie, how is it possible for one person to be having an absolutely wonderful time while the other person is thoroughly bored and miserable?”
“I hope you didn’t offend the man. Knowing you, he was probably only too aware of your boredom.”
Roxanne made a face and Bonnie chuckled.
“I don’t know if I can keep this up. I had Laura schedule me for five appointments a day on my days off from the studio for the next two weeks, and then the invitations go out, and then I have to meet with the caterer, the florist, the musicians, the press people…I don’t know, Bonnie. Either this year’s holiday gala is bigger than last year’s, or I’m getting old.” Roxanne blew a loose strand of hair from her face and with her elbows on the table, she put her chin in her hands and watched the woman she called her maid. Paying the bills for all that concerned her most, but she didn’t have to tell Bonnie.
“I’ll tell you what I think. I might recall this same conversation going on, oh, about a year ago about last year’s party. You always manage. And you’ll manage the money too.”
Roxanne sat up. “Did I get any calls?”
“Not here. Not from him. I didn’t think he would call again. Seems to me to be the type of man that doesn’t have to go begging for attention. He gives you your chance and then that’s it.” Bonnie put a steaming dish with a man-sized portion of beef stew in front of her.
“You don’t plan to call him back do you?” Bonnie scolded.
Roxanne had to smile as she dug into the meal with her usual zest for Bonnie’s cooking. She would never be the slim type, but then she could never see the virtues of eating like a waif anyway, especially when presented with good food like this.
“Maybe, maybe not. You don’t understand our relationship. It’s very casual. No commitments of any kind, just fun. It’s perfect, really, and it’s exactly what we both want.”
“Mmm hhmm,” was all Bonnie said.
Roxanne nearly choked on her stew. She figured the woman was too smart to rise to the bait now, or too tired. Normally they would engage in a lively debate about Roxanne’s theories on relationships. Roxanne had never been in love. Maybe her father was right and she should never let herself fall in love. But no, that couldn’t be true. She wasn’t sure why or if she ever would, or even if maybe it was a good thing, but never having experienced that special feeling she had a hard time understanding what drove romantic relationships and people. Like Don. She wanted to be loved, but she found it wasn’t so wonderful unless you loved the person back the same way.
Since Don died, she hadn’t had any relationships with anyone, besides business colleagues like Mark, until Barry came along. She hadn’t even gone out except in the line of duty.
Her mind once again turned to Barry Dennis and she decided she would give him a call back. She retreated to the privacy of her room. After she had changed for bed into a little cotton lace nightie and sat by the fireplace, she made the call. It was ten p.m.
Barry was sleeping. A buzzer sounded, but it wasn’t the end of the game yet. Slowly, still in a daze, he realized it was ringing and reached to turn off his alarm. But it wasn’t the alarm. He propped himself up and shook his head, trying to wake himself up enough to figure out what was going on.
The phone. No one had his number, so who could be calling him this late?
“Yeah?” He propped himself up on an elbow while he held the receiver to his ear.
“Hello.”
“Who the hell is this?” He sat upright now. It was unmistakably a woman’s voice and since he didn’t give out his number to women, this should be someone he knew. Or maybe this was a crank call. He was thinking he would have to change his number, when the woman spoke again.
“Barry? This is Roxanne. You do remember me don’t you? Or did you suffer a head injury lately that I haven’t heard about?” She spoke in a low, cool voice.
He fell back onto his pillow with the phone still to his ear and chuckled.
“I should have figured. Never mind. What are you doing calling me at this hour? I was in a dead sleep.”
“Sleep? Already? You never went to sleep this early when I was there.”
“That’s true and that was my undoing, if you recall.” They both laughed. “I’m glad you think it’s so funny. But I do need my sleep. What’s up?”
“I thought you would be, but I’ll get to the point. Do you have anything planned for three weeks from Saturday?”
“Not that I know of, unless there’s a game that night.”
“No game. We made sure of that.”
“We? What are you talking about?” He sat up again, raking his fingers through his hair.
“I’m throwing a holiday gala benefit for the Children’s Mercy Hospital at my house. If you promise to come to my party you can be my date for the night—all night.” The seductive melody of her voice caused Barry to pause for a breath.
He pictured her lounging there in a brief nightie, a teasing pout shaping her lips and her long lashes half veiling her smoldering brown eyes. The image forced him to lie back once again. He felt his body heating up. He was fully awake now. And fully aroused. He found his voice and attempted to answer her.
“I promise.” It was all he could say. He cleared his throat as he lay on his pillows in the dark room all by himself.
“You’ve made my night. Now I’ll have wonderful dreams about you until dawn. I’ll let you go back to sleep.” Then she added, “Sorry I woke you. I won’t do it again—unless I do it in person. Good night.”
Her voice was a sexy low whisper with a hint of laughter bubbling underneath. He wanted to tell her not to hang up yet so he could go on listening to her talk. But that would only be torture. What he really wanted to do was tell her he would be there as soon as he could get in the car and drive over. But that would take at least an hour. He took a long deep breath before he spoke.
“Good night, Roxy…I wish you were here.” Then he hung up. Why the hell had he said that? It was not the kind of thing he was in the habit of saying to women—especially that one. Even if it was true. Women were bound to misunderstand that kind of thing and read more into it.
But then Roxanne probably knew better and that was exactly what he liked about her. He turned over and, punching his pillow, he put his head down to attempt the task of getting back to sleep with the vivid image of Roxanne on his mind.
Chapter Seven
ROXANNE STOOD watching the local morning news as she drank her coffee. Early morning sun streamed in through the kitchen windows causing glare on the TV screen. She needed to leave the house within ten minutes to make the meeting with Dr. Oki at the hospital. Then she needed to meet with her lawyer, Al, and bring him some jewelry to sell for her.
She was about to put her coffee cup down and click the TV off, when a news flash caught her attention. With her finger poised over the remote’s off button, she watched the camera zoom in on a little girl being brought on a stretcher into Boston’s Children’s Mercy Hospital to the emergency burn treatment center. There were IV bottles attached and an entourage of EMTs and a doctor running in beside her. The girl was pathetic and shrunken looking, almost completely covered by a white sheet, in the midst of the commotion. The man with her, presumably her father, was standing in the background and the camera keyed in on him as the reporter moved in for an interview. Roxanne was stunned by the man’s seeming detachment. Roxanne turned up the volume
so she could hear as he answered the reporter’s painful questions about the fire with the unflinching succinctness more appropriate to a business meeting than the site of a hospital where his wife was delivered DOA and his daughter’s survival was questionable.
Deep inside her, emotions churned. Tears spilled onto her cheeks. She reached up and touched them and then looked at her moist fingertips in surprise. She hurried to wipe the rest of the tears away. Roxanne was transported back in time against her will to the days when she cried every day, the days when she was a little girl just like this one. She lost her mother when she was eleven. And her father loved her even less after that. Flashes of broken scenes from her childhood panned through her mind. There was a little girl with a skinned knee longing for her daddy’s embrace, but all he said was, “You shouldn’t cry. Crying is not a good thing to do. Now be a grown up girl and stop for Daddy.” Then he patted her on the head and disappeared into his library with a book.
The memory startled her with its vividness. Why did she remember such an inconsequential thing? But Roxanne remembered more, she remembered herself wishing so hard for her father to hug her that she gritted her teeth. And she remembered that after the door closed behind her father, the tears returned, only they had nothing to do with the skinned knee.
Snapping out of it, Roxanne looked at her wrist, checking on her Rolex again. “Oh no!” In one swift motion, she snapped the television off, drained her cup and then slammed it down on the counter. Rushing past Bonnie who’d just walked in the kitchen, Roxanne hurried to the garage door.
“What do you think, you’re in a chugging contest with that coffee?” Bonnie furrowed her brow.
“Gotta go. Be home late. Need to sell the family jewels.” Roxanne flashed a smile at the older woman, but as she was about to disappear through the door, she hesitated, and then walked back to Bonnie and hugged her.
“I’ll give you a call,” Roxanne said and this time she left with the right feeling. Bonnie stood frozen, then shook her head.
