“You’re the best.”
“I know. I’ll see you when you get here. Bye.” Corella didn’t wait for a response. She never did when she wanted to make it clear to Simon that he needed to be front, center and all business.
“I really have to go.” Simon’s lips barely touched Regina’s as he dashed into the bathroom. He had to put as much distance between them to regain some composure. Few things rattled him, and he typically remained in control–especially when it came to women. After what happened in college, he’d learned to keep his passions in check. Unchecked desire for a beautiful woman nearly destroyed him emotionally. He wasn’t going risk that amount of heartbreak again. A cold shower is in order.
Simon rubbed at the field of goosebumps spread across his arm as he dashed out of the bathroom. Maybe, the shower was colder than it had to be. His self-possession returned, the smell of coffee drew him directly to the kitchen, where he found his hostess standing behind her kitchen peninsula pouring fresh brew from a glass coffee pot into a metal thermos.
“Feeling better?” she asked with a knowing smile. The thin straps of her tank top peeked from under a long emerald green robe. More clothes didn’t make her any less desirable. “I’ve some croissants. You can take a couple on the subway.” She handed him two pastries from the carton along with the thermos full of coffee. “Milk, no sugar.”
Morning sustenance in hand, Simon gently prevented Regina from turning away and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Well, someone has been paying attention.” He pulled her closer for a kiss, groaning as her hands slid up his back. He tightened his embrace, kissing harder, crushing her breasts against his chest.
“Simon,” gasped Regina as she broke the kiss.
“Mmm?” He pressed his lips against her jaw and then made a trail of kisses down her neck.
“Your train.” Her hoarse voice barely sounded the words. She pushed on his chest. “You’re going to be late.” His kisses continued down the opening of her robe. “Mrs. Whoever is waiting.”
“Mmm-hmm.” The ringing phone in his pocket interrupted his descent just as he reached the two splendid mounds peeking from the robe. “Man, just when it was getting good.” He relaxed his arms, and set the thermos on the counter. “Simon Young.” Regina smiled as she wriggled out of his embrace. He fixed his gaze on her jiggling behind as she walked to the door. She held it open, dangling his backpack in one hand.
“Yes, we’ll finalize everything this afternoon.” He wedged the phone between his head and shoulder and wriggled an arm through the strap hole of his backpack before dashing into the hallway. “No, that is not what was negotiated.” He turned; the door closed in his face. He hefted the backpack on his shoulder and dashed towards the elevator. “We’re not going to haggle any more about this. The offer stands as is.
Chapter 6
Vince Deckland
His body crushed between the subway doors, a grunt escaped Simon’s lips. Falling against them once he managed to squeeze inside the train, he gulped air into his lungs. Simon searched down the packed subway car, peering between the throngs of commuters for an empty seat. Nothing. He scanned the notifications on his phone. There were emails, texts and phone calls from colleagues, clients, friends and family—everyone—except the one person he wanted to hear from the most.
He popped the last bit of crescent in his mouth and grabbed a pole, positioning his stance for the endless starts and stops ahead. As with any New York City train, there was a host of interesting-looking people, but it was the popping sound of gum and the feeling that he was being watched that drew his attention to a little girl sitting in the seat directly below him. Her small mouth was going a mile a minute as she stared at him through thick glasses. The little afro puffs on either side of her head were held by pink ribbons, each tied in a neat bow.
“Hi,” she chimed, twirling a ribbon around her small finger.
“Hey.” He smiled back.
“You know, you’re a man, but you smell like my mom’s soap.”
“Really? Thanks, kid.” Simon wrinkled his nose. Not something he would normally choose, but that was the last thing on his mind when he’d grabbed from a bunch of bottles of body washes hoarded in the corner of Regina’s shower.
“You smell like flowers. My dad has a special soap for men. It doesn’t smell like flowers. He says flowers are for ladies. Why are you wearing ladies soap?”
He shot a self-assured smile at his little inquisitor. “I like smelling like flowers. It makes me feel pretty.”
She wrinkled her nose, her head bobbing with the sway of the train. “You’re weird.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Simon looked around the car and then out the window for the name of the station that the train was approaching. He sighed. The trek from Harlem to downtown was proving to be a chore, especially when the trip came with an over inquisitive kid. The girl stopped gnashing the gum and poised her lips to speak. “It was nice talking to you,” Simon blurted before she had a chance to say a word. “Have fun at school or wherever it is you’re going.” While passengers poured out, he made his way to the other end of the train car, where he struck gold—a seat. He plopped on the hunk of plastic and opened and closed his hand in quick motions. I’m gonna have to bring a manlier soap with me the next time I stay at Regina’s. If there is a next time. She didn’t look too pleased shufflin’ me out the door. Maybe last night was a one-time thing. Hearing the phone chime, Simon reached in his pocket and read the message.
Regina: Did you catch the train?
Simon: Barely. I had to dive for the doors.
Regina: Aww! Perhaps try setting the alarm earlier?
Simon: Good idea.
Regina: I tend to have those. Have a safe trip downtown.
Simon: Thanks.
Simon leaned back in his seat and drank down the last of the coffee in his thermos. “Oh yeah, there’s gonna be a next time.”
***
The firm was in its usual morning commotion. Simon weaved through the halls and cubicles towards his office. Corella looked at him as he approached and then her watch.
“Good morning, Corella.” He tried to sound as commanding as possible but couldn’t quite pull it off when confronted with Corella’s motherly stare over her designer glasses. He dashed by her like a school boy late for class.
“’Morning, Simon.” Corella’s fingers slid across the screen of her tablet while she trailed him into the office. “Your meeting is in 45 minutes. I’m assuming you’ll be changing?”
“Yes.” Simon shrugged off his coat, which Corella quickly grabbed and hung on the back of the office door while he took a shirt from his small closet. “Thanks.”
“I suggest the red tie. Mrs. Blakeside seems to like you in it.”
“Agreed.”
“Have you had breakfast?”
“Affirmative.” Simon held up the empty thermos.
“Good. Do you want to have lunch ordered in?”
“You don’t have to.”
Corella held up her hand. “It’s going to be a long day. What would you like?”
“Surprise me.”
“You got it. By the way, nice fragrance.”
“Yeah,” He pulled at his shirt cuffs and let out a nervous chuckle. “I decided to try something new.” He opened a cabinet holding his travel bag full of toiletries and pulled out a bottle of cologne.
“No, that’ll only make it worse.” She went back to swiping her tablet. “Just go with smelling like a fresh meadow for today. Is there an address?”
“An address?”
“To send flowers. I know a great florist who can have them delivered by this afternoon.”
“Oh, no.” Simon moved his gaze to his desk and curved his lips into a smile. “She’s not the flowers type.”
“I like her already. You have 40 minutes.” She grabbed the thermos and turned towards the door. “I’ll have this refilled for you.”
“You’re the best.” Simon scrolled throug
h his phone’s contact list, stopping at the R’s.
“I know.” The door barely closed behind her when Vince Deckland strutted in. A knot grew in the pit of Simon’s gut as the tall blonde in a perfectly-tailored suit waltzed to his desk.
“Hey, Si. How’s it going?” Vince scanned Simon’s desk. “Yeah, that’s great. I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”
Simon sighed, set his phone face down on the desk and braced his fists on his hips. “I’m busy Vince.”
Vince lifted his hands and pumped his palms in Simon’s direction. “I know, I know. We all are.” He teetered the picture of Simon’s mother in his hand. His gaudy man’s ring twinkled in the light. “I have a couple of clients in my office,” Vince sniggered, “and let’s just say that English is barely their second language.” He jabbed the picture towards Simon before sitting it on the edge of the desk. “I was hoping you could help translate.”
“Where’re they from?”
“China, I think.”
“I’m Korean.” Simon grabbed his mother’s picture and returned it to its rightful place. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to prepare for a meeting.”
“But, isn’t it the same thing?”
Simon scoffed. “No, It’s not the same thing. China and Korea are two different countries, and the people in China speak a bunch of different languages.” It baffled him how ignorant so many of the college-educated people at his firm were. They lived their lives in myopic bubbles void of any culture or perspectives outside of theirs. He walked across his office and stood right outside of the doorway. “I suggest you try getting one of the firm’s translators.”
Vince cocked an eyebrow as he walked out the doorway. “We have those?”
“Yes. Get your assistant to request one.” Simon noticed Corella holding a yellow sticky note out of the corner of his eye. He strutted to her desk. “Thank you, Corella.”
“No problem, Simon,” she answered and returned to her tasks.
Simon held the small square of paper under Vince’s nose. “Make sure she knows what language she needs to request to be translated. Start by asking your clients. Bye Vince.”
“Great. Thanks Si!”
“Simon,” he corrected.
“Yeah. Thanks, Simon.” Vince walked down the hall, becoming a microaggressive memory.
Simon crossed his arms and pressed his lips together. Corella was peering over her glasses and gently shaking her head as she rolled her eyes. “I told you it was going to be a long day.” She glanced at her watch. “You have 35 minutes.”
***
“Okay, Mrs. Blakeside.” Simon smiled and straightened his shoulders as he opened his office door. “I think we’ll be able to have this matter settled within a week.”
“Thank you, Simon.” The older woman picked up her designer handbag and rose gracefully from her seat. “I knew you would handle this for me. Some may consider it a minor thing, but I wanted it taken care of before I left.” She extended a skinny wrinkled hand and gently rubbed the top of his head. “I told you he was my little legal machine.”
Simon slowly blinked as he forced a grin. “That’s what I’m here for.” They made their way down the corridor.
“Are you sure he knows what he is doing,” asked another equally older woman walking behind them. “This is very important.” The trio stopped in front of the elevator. Simon pressed the button with a little more force than necessary.
Mrs. Blakeside patted her sister on the shoulder. “I’m sure it’s just fine.”
“Yes, Ms.?” Simon raised his eyebrows.
“Ripley.”
“Ms. Ripley. I’ve assisted clients with this type of thing before. Your sister is in good hands.”
She sized Simon up with a suspicious side glance before turning her attention to her sister. “I just don’t know. This place has plenty of lawyers. Perhaps he can get another one to check his work.”
Simon clenched his teeth behind his smile. “If you would like another opinion, I can ask a colleague to look at the contracts.”
“No,” Mrs. Blakeside responded as the elevator opened. “You see, Agnes. You’ve insulted the boy.” The geriatric duo stepped inside.
“I’m sure plenty of people ask. I mean he is,” Ms. Ripley tilted her head and squinted, “young.”
Simon clasped his hands behind his back and watched as the two women talked as if he wasn’t there. “You worry too much. His people are very smart.”
Simon’s shoulders slid down as the elevator door closed. Good thing I haven’t had lunch yet. It’s hard to deal with bigots on a full stomach. On cue, his belly growled as he made his way back to his office.
He approached his assistant’s desk. “Corella.” She held a bag with the name of his favorite diner on the front.
“I figured you could use a treat.”
“You’re the best.”
“I know.”
Corella handed him the lunch bag and put on her glasses. “Oh.” She picked up a pile of sticky notes. “I have 5 messages from a Samantha. She couldn’t get in contact with you and asked to speak to your assistant. She seems pretty anxious to talk to you.”
“I’m not available to speak to her, ever.” He stormed into his office and paced the floor. Why can’t she just leave me alone? I swear, she must’ve gone mental or something. He turned, Corella was perched on her chair, looking at him with a concerned expression.
Simon walked back her desk and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. “I’m sorry.” He swallowed and shifted his weight. “It’s complicated. Let’s just say the best thing is for me not to talk with that person.”
“Understood.”
“Thanks, Corella.”
“You’re welcome.” The phone rang. “Hello, this is Corella Banks.” She made eye contact with him. “May I ask who’s calling? Samantha?” Simon filled his lungs through his flaring nostrils. “I’m sorry, Simon’s not available at the moment. “Would you like to leave a message?” was the last thing he heard before shutting the door.
Chapter 7
Enjoying the Ride
Regina peered at the computer screen and began vigorously typing. And you’re obviously clueless about the role racism plays in your life. I suggest opening a book. After Simon left, she’d decided to shower and get right to work on her next blog post, but memories of the previous night made it impossible to concentrate. She followed his last trail of kisses down her neck with her fingers. Simon’s kisses and touches were emblazoned along every nerve of her body, making it hard to properly serve an indignant slap down to the ignorant and juvenile comments from the bigoted racists trolling her site.
The Blackness of Kent garnered an impressive number of followers and disparagers over the years. Regina created it as a platform to empower people constantly traumatized by racism, so having detractors and sleazy trolls was inevitable. Normally, she was more than ready for a fight, but not today. Today, Simon Young clouded her mind and dulled her wits. She tapped her finger on the mouse, holding her head in her hand, scouring her brain for a dismissive retort. She had nothing.
She straightened her back in the chair. How about you go fuck yourself?! flashed across the screen. “There,” she pronounced to an empty apartment, “my work is done.” Regina closed her laptop and dialed the phone. She needed to talk to somebody about her previous night of passion and purge the hodgepodge of excitement and anxiety jumbling her brain.
“Toni Kent.”
“Hey, Toni.”
“What’s up girl.” The professional tone faded from Toni’s voice.
“Nothing. I was wondering if you were free for lunch?”
“Ahh. It’ll be tight. I’ve a packed schedule. I was really just plannin’ to eat in my office. How about you come over tonight for dinner?”
Regina sucked air through her teeth and scratched through her coils. “Umm. I was kinda hoping to talk to you without Marcus around.”
“Really? About what?”
�
�How about I bring you a sandwich?”
“Okay,” said Toni in a tone that made her suspicion clear. She and Regina had been friends for years—much to Marcus’s vexation—so she could tell immediately when something was afoot. “I scheduled to have lunch between 12 and 1.”
“Perfect. Extra pickles?”
“You know it.”
***
The tip of Regina’s tongue protruded from the corner of her lipsticked mouth as she clicked her thumbs vigorously at the cell phone keys while the bag of sandwiches dangled from her arm. A concept popped into her head while she was on the subway, and the long walk down the placard-lined hallway gave her enough time to draft a quick email of notes. She couldn’t afford to let an idea slip away, especially given her current preoccupation with Simon. Regina knocked on the door brandishing the name Toni Kent followed by a bunch of letters.
“Hey, Lady.” Sleek legs supported a petite frame and vanished under a black pencil skirt. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” Regina held out a bag with the name of their favorite deli on it. It was time to pull out all the stops to drop this bit of news on her best friend. “Your lunch.”
Toni opened the bag and smiled as she inhaled. “Yes, I’m starving.” She twirled on one designer heel and walked further into her office “Come on in.”
“I’m lovin’ those shoes, girl.”
Toni stopped and stuck out one leg. “Thanks. They’re my gift to me.”
“Alright, now.” Regina tucked one leg under her on the sofa. “A queen has to treat herself occasionally.”
“Or more frequently.” The friends laughed and started eating.
“So,” chimed Toni between bites, “What’s the reason for this impromptu lunch? She dabbed her lips with a napkin. “Since you don’t want Marcus involved, I’m assuming it has something to do with a man.” Crossing her legs as she reclined, Toni balanced her drink on the arm of the chair.
Regina’s fingertips disappeared between the folds of her sandwich. “Well, I did have someone over last night.”
My Way to You (Brothers in Law Book 1) Page 5
