by Pat Simmons
She caught Mrs. Coates scolding Reggie and Tyson for helping themselves to bagels as she tried to arrange them on the platter. “Oh, good morning, dear.” Mrs. Coates saw her first. “If you want one, you better hurry before these greedy bears…” she tilted her head toward their bosses, “eat everything. If they got themselves some wives, they would have a decent meal in the morning,” she fussed, causing both of them to groan.
Monica squeezed her lips. She had nothing to add to that conversation as she stepped to the trash bin.
“Wait!” Mrs. Coates startled her. “You’re not about to throw them out, are you?”
Without verifying, Monica could feel Tyson’s eyes on her. Was he waiting for her answer? “They are pretty much dead.” Then added for his hearing, “But they were beautiful.”
“Give them to me,” the woman ordered. “Once I dry them out, you’ll be able to start a dried bouquet in that vase.” Taking them, she wrapped them in a paper towel and went back to her desk.
A cute ringtone sounded and Reggie answered, “Hey, babe…” His voice faded as he strolled out of the room. His face lit up whenever he mentioned Tracee’s name. Monica looked forward to meeting her at the annual Black Firefighters Ball next week.
At the sink, rinsing the vase, the hairs on Monica’s neck began to tinkle. She suspected Tyson was nearby. She proved to be correct when she heard him filling his mug with coffee.
He leaned against the counter beside her and sipped from his cup.
Feeling a playful streak, she ignored him, but his silent assessment was throwing her off. Finally, Monica faced him and wished she hadn’t. The man had the most seductive stare. Steadying her breathing, she stared back, lifting an eyebrow in a challenge to get him to cave—it didn’t work.
Tyson only intensified his gaze until his nostrils flared. She broke eye contact, only to breathe, before looking at him again. “Yes-s.”
“Did you have a good weekend?” he asked in a low husky voice.
“I did.”
“No…” he paused and scooted closer, “you know…no incidents?”
Monica’s heart twisted. “Will you always bring that up every time you look at me?” She patted her chest as she felt herself fuming. “I wish you, of all people, hadn’t seen it.”
Whatever his answer, she didn’t wait to hear it. She marched out the room, breaking a kitchen rule of not leaving any items in the sink. Well, Tyson could pitch the vase for all she cared.
In her haste, Monica nearly bumped into Reggie. “Sorry,” she mumbled, but kept going. If the panic attacks didn’t cause her death, the humiliation would.
“Man, what did you say?” she heard Reggie ask him.
Safely inside her cubicle moments later, she spied an envelope on her chair. Tyson, she guessed. She snatched it, contemplating the trashcan, but threw it in her desk drawer instead.
After taking a series of deep breaths, Monica got to work. With the ever-popular trend in online education, the data had to be on point to target potential students. There was already a cluster of colleges and universities flooding the market. She plugged in zip codes and analyzed households’ demographics and their income to determine who would seek higher education or complete their education.
When her eyes began to cross from staring at the numbers, and her stomach growled, she thought it was perfect timing for lunch. Pulling out the drawer to get her purse, the white envelope seemed to be waiting for her. She sighed and reached for the card. I’ve been praying for you. I hope it helped.
No signature was needed. Immediately, guilt caused her heart to sink. Clearly, she had overreacted. Of course if she had read Tyson’s note before she saw him in the kitchen, she would have understood his question. Her eyes watered as she admitted she owed him an apology. She knew Solae was praying for her, but Monica had no idea he was a praying man and he had thought enough of her to mention her name in prayer.
Oh, the names she was calling herself at the moment. Even her appetite had deserted her. Still, she needed some fresh air.
#
Miss Wyatt better watch herself. Tyson scowled, replaying their earlier encounter. He might not fire her because of her mental issues, but he had no problem letting her go because of her attitude.
First, she bites his head off, then Reggie walks in and grinds it into dog food. What did he do except go to church and stand in a line to get prayer for her? He didn’t envision his note and inquiry to result in a big blowup.
He had been in his office for hours, trying to keep his mind off of Monica, but how could he not think of her when he and Reggie were depending on her numbers for the Missouri State College proposal? Their inventory of billboard rentals was limited to twenty-five neighborhoods across the metro area, so her analysis had to be precise.
So far her mood swings hadn’t compromised any projects, but he couldn’t help wonder if she was a ticking time bomb. “Jesus, take the wheel.” Tyson grunted. What made him say that? As a matter of fact, he couldn’t recall where he heard it. Then it dawned on him, it was the faint ringtone reserved for Solae’s children.
He was relieved when Reggie knocked on the door. “Ready for the workshop?”
Tyson stood. “Give me a sec.” He began to put his folders away. The workshop was actually a networking seminar the St. Louis Minority Council had put together. More than one hundred people attended and this was one way to learn from other small business owners’ mistakes.
After slipping on his suit jacket, Tyson shrugged his shoulders until it draped his frame to his liking. When he thought about Monica, he prayed for her again. This time, she better not to cross his path as he stepped out of his office.
Reggie was already in the lobby. “I’m driving.”
Once they were buckled up, Tyson stretched his legs.
“Hey, man. I’m sorry for being hard on you earlier about Monica.” He paused, probably waiting to see if Tyson was going to respond, but he wasn’t in the mood to revisit the topic. “I’ve never seen her so mad at you. I thought you two had come to some unspoken agreement. She really does good work and I don’t want to lose her to a competitor…”
Tyson clenched his jaw to keep from speaking.
“Ain’t no mountain high enough, or valley low enough to keep me from Tracee.” Reggie began to sing the old Motown tune.
“Yeah, not even your American Express,” Tyson mumbled while rubbing the hairs on his mustache. “And what does Tracee have to do with this?”
“All I’m saying is you see Monica every day. If you like her, tell her. Don’t waste your time fighting it.”
“You think I like her in that way?” Tyson shifted in his seat.
“I have eyes.” He held up two fingers. “Four, if I wear my contacts.”
Tyson had heard enough. Monica was too complicated. “Let’s talk shop. The hair chain…”
They arrived at the Hilton Hotel near the St. Louis airport and checked in. After sitting through three hours of seminars and two breakout sessions, they headed back to the office.
The information Tyson had retained was helpful, but he missed so much with his mind drifting back to Monica, especially after a few female business owners made no secret of their interests. Reggie cordially advised them he wasn’t available.
Tyson had no story to tell as one question kept revolving in his mind. How deep were his feelings for Monica? Reggie drove into the parking lot, and he got out, saying another prayer that she wouldn’t cross his path. His father reared him to be a man and demand respect.
Nodding to Mrs. Coates, he marched to his office and closed the door. Monica was driving him crazy.
He hung his coat on a wall hook, then pulled out his chair. A white envelope was resting on the seat. She had some nerve returning his note. He mumbled a few curse words. Maybe he did need that prayer on Sunday.
After grabbing the envelope, he sat. He gritted his teeth. He didn’t have time to deal with her. Tyson ripped the envelope and paused. It wasn’t the same
card he had given her. It had a scenic picture on the cover. As he slowly opened it, steam seemed to spew from his ears until his anger inflated. I’m sorry, Tyson. You have been nothing but kind to me. You didn’t deserve my attitude and disrespect. Even if you fire me, know I’m sorry.
He closed the card and swirled his chair around to gaze out the window. So she had come to him while he was away. Tyson smiled. He admired a person for making the first move to apologize. His father had taught him that too, but in this case, he wasn’t going to budge.
Rubbing his face, he guessed he should apologize too, even if he didn’t know why. He put away her card, then left his office for her cubicle.
Hovering over her desk for a few minutes, he watched her until she noticed him. She jumped and patted her chest. Uncertainty filled her eyes.
Tyson peeped over his shoulder. The only person watching him was Dennis who wasn’t within earshot. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed.
His heart sank when Monica looked as if she was about to cry. “And you’re not fired.” He couldn’t, not when her soulful eyes seemed worried.
“Thank you,” she said and relaxed.
He turned to leave but suddenly twirled around and grinned. “Next time, read my note first.”
She laughed out loud and the sound caressed his ears. She lowered her lashes. “How did you know I hadn’t?”
He didn’t answer, but winked and retraced his steps back to his office. It took all day, but finally, the prayer had kicked in.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Realization hit that Tyson didn’t get what he wanted from Monica, so he did a U-turn. This time when he approached her desk, he caught her sniffing his floral arrangement.
The look of tranquility on her face made him hate to disturb her, but he wasn’t turning back now. Her lids fluttered open and, as if sensing his presence, she met his stare. “Hi again.” She smiled.
“Have dinner with me.”
“Yes,” she answered softly. “When?”
“I can’t wait until tomorrow, or even this weekend. It has to be tonight.”
“Tonight?” She blinked. “You do realize it’s a work night and by the time I get home and change to go out, it’ll be seven o’clock.”
He had to think fast. He craved more of the one-on-one time they shared in the car. “I’m game if you are. We can eat some place near your home, and I’ll have you back by ten.” He checked his watch. “It’s four now. Can whatever you’re working on wait until tomorrow?” When she nodded, he gave her the okay to leave.
#
“Tyson sent me home,” she said, calling Veronica minutes after getting in her car. She tried her best to keep a straight face to string her friend along.
“What do you mean?” She sounded alarmed. “Please tell me that jerk didn’t renege and let you go.”
“Well sort of.” She giggled. “He thought I could use the extra time for our date tonight.” She braced for Veronica’s response, and as expected, her friend didn’t disappoint.
She screamed her delight. “Woooo! I’ll get you for that, so start with he said what, what you said, and don’t leave anything out!”
Monica described the blowup in the kitchen, the card, and their apologies. “I didn’t see this coming.” Veronica asked so many questions, it took the entire drive home to answer them.
Like a mad woman, she hurried into her closet to find something to wear before jumping into the shower. She was dressing when her mother called. Ollie had no idea she had been home for more than an hour.
“Hey, sweetie. How was your day?”
“For a Monday, it was better than expected.” Should she mention the date? Knowing her mother, she would start crying, ready to order wedding invitations, and her father would load his shotgun. Until she knew the significance of the dinner, she would keep her mother in the dark.
They chatted a few minutes until her mother rushed Monica off the phone. “Wheel of Fortune is about to come on. You have a good night.”
“I will,” she replied, thinking about Tyson. “You too.”
An hour later, her doorbell rang as she slipped her feet into her boots. She opened the door to see Tyson had changed and he was smiling.
“Ready?” He checked his watch and grinned. “Our time is tickin’.”
Monica chuckled and grabbed her coat. She’d barely locked the door when Tyson took her hand and hurried her to his SUV. His excitement was contagious.
“If you like Asian food, then we can do Stir Crazy, since it’s close.”
“I love Asian food.” The restaurant was less than two miles down the street.
“Good to know. So, Miss Wyatt, how was your day?” His eyes twinkled with mischief as he tried to keep a straight face once they were on their way.
“Unusual, to say the least.” She smirked and glanced out the window.
“Is your boss treating you okay? Let me know if he isn’t and I’ll have a talk with him.”
She burst with laughter and he did too. Once she quieted, she faced him. “My boss is a sweetheart,” she said softly.
The air stilled as they stared at each other. She wondered what he was thinking. She wanted to scream, “I’m on a date! I’m on a date!” It had been so long, and never with someone as handsome as Tyson.
Less than ten minutes later, they arrived at the restaurant. In the parking lot, a gust of wind ruffled her hair, so she tightened her scarf around her neck.
Seemingly in tune with her, Tyson quickened their steps to the door. After they were seated and given menus, Monica suggested, “Let’s build our own stir fry?” They made their way to the buffet bar to choose their meats, veggies, and spices. Next, the couple waited in line to hand the chefs their add-ons.
While watching their meals be stir-fried, Tyson leaned closer and whispered, “Thanks for the card. It made my day.”
When she turned to look up at him, their faces were so close she could smell his minty toothpaste. She blinked before he drew her into a daze. “I really am sorry.”
He grinned. “I like calling truces with you.”
She smiled and accepted her dish from the chef, so did Tyson. Back at their table, he reached for hands. “Do you mind if we pray?”
“Of course not. I heard it has its benefits.”
“Definitely.” It wasn’t eloquent, but touching, as they said “Amen” in unison.
For the next hour, they quizzed each other about their favorite music, movies, vacations, siblings, until finally Monica asked, “Why me? Why did you ask me out?”
He frowned. “Why not you?”
She pinched her napkin and glanced away. Although she didn’t lack self-esteem, she felt defeated with these attacks. She met his eyes again. “You’ve been privy to my out of control moments, and they ain’t pretty. Why would you want to get involved in my drama?”
“Fair question.” Tyson shrugged. “That doesn’t define you as the woman who fascinates me. Our carpool trip proved there’s more to know about you, and I want to.”
“I could be crazy, right?” she mumbled and shifted in her seat.
He reached for her hand. “I know no such thing.”
#
Tyson paid the bill while Monica excused herself to the ladies’ room. As suspected, a few hours wasn’t enough time with her. He had never been in this situation before with a coworker, much less an employee, so he better tame his testosterone.
The drive back to her condo seemed even shorter. Standing on her doorstep, he delivered Monica back minutes before the curfew.
“I had a great time. I like getting to know you, but you have a company to run and I don’t want to jeopardize your success. Can we learn how to be friends first and see if there is anything deeper?”
Oh, I’m sure there’s something deeper. “I can agree to that.”
“Good.” She inserted the key and opened her door. “Good night. See you in the morning.” She went inside.
Where was his good-night kiss? He joked to himse
lf, staring at the door, then trekked back to his SUV to head home.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“What do you mean you can’t go to the ball?” Monica shrieked over the phone to Veronica. Her friend didn’t waste money and the amount they spent on Magnificent Mile in Chicago for the Black Firefighters Ball made Monica question her own sanity over the purchases.
They both had been hyped about attending. Plus, when Tyson asked if he could escort her, she informed him Veronica was technically her date. Plus, them being seen together outside the office would start rumors. “You weren’t sick yesterday.”
“Yesterday, I thought I had a cold.” Her voice sounded weak. “Today, I’ve been in bed with aches and running a temperature.”
“Didn’t you get a flu shot?”
“Must have been for the wrong shot, because this one is a monster.” She coughed.
“Well, I guess I’m not going either,” Monica said, contrary to what she wanted to do, but didn’t feel right going without her.
“Go to the ball, Cinderella. I was only your guest, but you’re expected to be there.” She sneezed and hacked some more.
Monica was getting ill listening to the sound effects. “I’ll make an appearance, an hour tops, then leave.”
“No, you should stay until the ball ends.” Veronica groaned. “Okay, I need more drugs, but text me a picture when you’re dressed. I want to make sure you didn’t massacre your new contour makeup.”
Once they disconnected, Monica padded across her floor to the adjacent bathroom and sat on her vanity stool. As she removed her satin cap, she studied her mass of shiny silky spiral curls, exploding from atop her head. Leaving work early for the hair appointment had been worth it.
She wasn’t into heavy eye makeup, but Veronica insisted focusing on Monica’s eyes would give her hairstyle a more dramatic effect, so she got busy. She followed the extra steps outlined in her contour pamphlet. Twenty minutes later, she had done it all from her primer to her expertly shaped eyebrows. She stared at her reflection.
