by Gina Watson
They stepped into his office. “Clara, today is important.”
“It is, sir. Marcus has been talking about having breakfast with you for two weeks.”
He snapped his fingers. “Right. But also, Mr. Koch is landing at the airport and I have to go pick him up.”
“Yes, sir. His plane lands at two o’clock. You can take Marcus to breakfast and I was thinking to the park before you have to pick Mr. Koch up from the airport.”
“Hewe it is.” Marcus held a large yellow poster board open. Glitter and sequins fell to the floor. A large heart made out of red lace dominated the card that read: Thank you for the music. We love you Max. Music notes had been drawn and a picture of Schroeder and his piano from the Peanuts cartoon had been pasted to the board. At least forty signatures were peppered around the card. Marcus proudly held it out to Max.
Max took the card. “Thanks, kid. Wow, this is a good-looking card. How did you know Schroeder was my favorite?”
Marcus smiled and shrugged. “Do you wike it?”
“I do. It is most spectacular!” He set the card on his desk. “Where does everybody want to go for breakfast?”
“Mr. David, it’s just you and the boy for breakfast.”
“No, it isn’t.” She could play as many tricks on him as she wanted, but there was no way he was taking this kid to breakfast alone.
“Yes. It has to be just you and Marcus. So that you can bond.”
“Bond?”
“Yes.”
Marcus grasped Max’s hand and smiled up at him. Max inhaled noisily. “What’s your poison, kid?”
“Huh?”
“What do you want for breakfast?”
“I wike McDonald’s.”
Max grimaced. “That’s because you’ve never been to Treebeards’s. Their eggs benedict is to die for.”
“Mr. David.” Clara frowned and shook her head at him.
“McDonald’s it is. Shall we?”
“Oh wait!” Clara shuffled to her desk and grabbed the office camera. “Everyone say I love McNuggets.”
On his way through the door he stopped and turned, “I need you to order snacks.”
“Antipasto platter like last time?”
“Fine.”
He froze when she answered, “Yes, sir.”
He didn’t know how it could possibly happen given the sex he’d had not an hour ago, but his cock twitched.
He shook his head and walked to catch up with Marcus who was spinning in the hallway. He’d do well to focus on the boy and not on his maddening office assistant.
***
Max had dropped Marcus off at the orphanage early…or so he thought. Sister Pritchard forced him to take a tour of the old orphanage and school, giving him a highly detailed account of the inventory when they stopped at the music room.
Taking Marcus to McDonald’s had actually been fun. He’d enjoyed the way the boy stared at him and inquired about virtually everything. Max did his best to educate young Marcus, thinking it would be good for the boy to receive even more exposure to a man who could teach him a thing or two. Max considered their next outing and thought maybe Marcus would enjoy the aquarium in New Orleans. They could make a day of it.
Driving to the airport Max laughed. His mind was never far from the blonde beauty that he’d evidently overlooked for six years. It had been for the best really—Clara wasn’t the type of woman you had casual sex with. He knew he wasn’t a nice guy and Clara deserved a young lad she could boss around, one who would worship at her heels. Max wasn’t that kind of guy.
Until today he’d never thought of her in a sexual manner. Hell, he assumed she’d taken a vow of abstinence because she’d never once seemed interested in him. A blow to his ego for sure, but he’d not met many women who were immune to his charms.
The image of her in that tight black dress would haunt him. She carried herself well despite what had to be a novel event: the act of wearing something shapely and desirable. She’d even donned heels and it had him wondering what kind of trouble he’d get into if he purchased a wardrobe for her to wear just to his office. He’d give his left nut to get her into silk…and maybe a stiletto. In six years how had they never shared a little flirty office banter? He fought off women regularly—especially at the university, but never once had he recognized her beauty. The ridiculous glasses she wore detracted from the clear sky blue of her eyes.
As Max thought of the various luxuries he’d like to bestow on his office assistant, he turned his gunmetal gray Corvette into the airport and drove toward the private hangar.
In a given year he’d escort and entertain dozens of rich potential donors. They all had one thing in common—private jets. That’s why when he pulled up to the security gate Bobby smiled and waved him through.
“Same seats this year, Bobby?”
“Thank you, President David.”
Max nodded. “They’ll be in the mail.”
“Bless you.”
Max had learned that football was king and LSU was the kingdom. The Tiger fans were relentless in their pursuit to provide the most ostentatious school pride display the world had ever seen. Personally, Max didn’t get it. He actually despised football, but he would never tell a soul. He’d learned that with the promise of Tiger Football season tickets he could accomplish anything—anything.
Max pulled his car into the private hangar and exited to the sound of whistling.
“Two thousand fifteen limited-edition Corvette Stingray convertible. Nice. I assume we’ll be cruising around in this.”
Max grasped Ed’s hand firmly and they shook. “Only the best.”
“That’s why I love coming to Baton Rouge.”
Ed was similarly dressed in a fine suit and expensive loafers. An attendant carried his luggage to the car and loaded it. Luckily, Ed packed light.
“Let’s get the logistic bullshit out of the way, and then I want to party like it’s nineteen ninety-nine.”
Max put up a good front, but he wasn’t feeling up to it. Last time Ed had been in town he’d escorted him all over the city. When Ed had found four women who would do literally anything for money, he’d brought them to Max’s house. It hadn’t gone well. He’d had to pay for one girl to get anal surgery. No reports had been filed because the girls had been well accommodated, but Max couldn’t get the images out of his mind. Max didn’t make very many mistakes. He prided himself on that. However, he’d been unprepared for Ed Koch. He wouldn’t let that happen again.
They walked into the building and up the stairs. Ed excused himself to the restroom and Max told him he’d meet him in the office.
Max entered the office area and found Clara bent over her desk, digging through the bottom file drawer. Her lovely derrière was on full display and aimed right at him. When Max saw the tops of her thigh-highs his mind went a little insane and he had to draw on all of his power to prevent from howling like a wolf.
He cleared his throat to get her attention.
“Oh hello, Mr. David. How was your breakfast with Marcus?”
“Delicious.”
“If you’d like to see him attack the violin you can hit the music room on Fridays at two.”
“I’m good.” He chuckled once again at how she’d gotten him good with little Marcus. Weren’t most women her age busy getting mani-pedis and updating their social media pages?
“Fuck me, David. You get that one to come to your place and I’ll donate double.”
Max escorted Ed to his office. On cue Clara entered with the platter of hors d’oeuvres. She bent over the credenza against the wall in his office, her heeled feet giving her the curves to drive a man wild.
She smiled—Ed beamed—and she sashayed out of the office. They stood and took the plates she’d set out, piling them with olives and deli meats.
“Who the fuck is that? You’ve been holding out on me. Course if I had ass like that to tap, I wouldn’t share it with anyone either.”
“That’s just my homely lit
tle office assistant, Clara.” Maybe he could use a little reverse psychology to erase Clara from Ed’s mind.
“You’ve gone mad, friend. From where I’m sitting she’s anything but homely.”
“She’s homely and she’s off limits!”
“Excuse me.” She stood in his doorway, red faced and sniffling. “I forgot to ask how you take your coffee, Mr. Koch.”
“I take it black.”
“Black. Got it. And there is just one more thing…President Maximilian R. David, my name is Cara. C—A—R—A. Cara. Not fucking Clara, but Cara.” Her arms flapped wildly as she continued to rage, “Christ you work for a tenured faculty member and vice president for six years and one would think he’d remember your fucking name. You’ve taken me for granted for six years, assuming I’ll be at your beck and call. Assuming I’ll turn a blind eye to the soul-destroying mind fuck that goes on around here. If you really want to help this university and the students who attend, provide a decent role model for them. You can start by cleaning up your own act.”
Cara ran off down the hall while Max’s jaw hit the ground. Next to him Ed laughed. “Fuck me sideways, I’ve got to have her.”
“She’s uh…she’s gay, Ed.”
“No shit? Well, I don’t mind.”
Was there nothing he could fucking say to lessen Ed’s interest? Worst of all, Cara had heard him call her homely. She’d been hurt; he’d seen it in her face. Well, of course she was…he’d called her homely after she’d gone and gotten all dolled up for his meeting with this stupid fuck. He no longer cared about placating Ed to garner the largest donation the university had ever seen. All he cared about in this moment was explaining his actions to Cara. And what a prick he was that for six years he’d called her by the wrong name. She’d been right to call him out. His lips curled into a smile at her feisty anger.
Across his desk Ed rambled on, telling some seedy story about when he was in Desert Storm. Max stood, “Excuse me for a moment.” He went to her desk, then he searched the kitchenette area, but she’d fled. Max even checked in with Dr. Gray, knowing that sometimes Cara would visit with the old bat.
“Dr. Gray, have you seen Cara?”
“I haven’t, but I heard her put you in your place, which was only too long in coming. She’s a good kid, Max. I’d advise against reprimand.”
“No, of course not. You’re right…it was too long in coming.”
Max walked back to his office deep in thought, replaying the situation as it just played out with Cara.
“Fled the coop, did she?” Ed queried.
“Hmm…oh yeah, she did.”
“That’s a shame. At any rate”—he pushed a check across Max’s desk. “Here’s a little something for the university. Name a building after me or something.”
Twenty million dollars. “Thank you, Ed. This is a most generous donation. We’ll be expanding the field house and the music building. I’ll see what I can do about naming.”
“Perfect. Now take me to the club. I want to celebrate.”
Chapter Three
Why was she crying? Cara had never cared about what Maximilian von Doodoo thought of her. She’d put up with his bullshit because he gave a most excellent bonus at Christmas, and again on her birthday, and during secretaries week. She’d thought she looked okay in the godforsaken dress. Maybe that’s why she cried. She’d put some effort into her appearance, hoping he’d be pleased.
As soon as she got home, she took off the restricting dress and hose and put on her comfortable baggy jeans and sweatshirt. She picked the dress up off of the floor and hung it on a hanger. In her mother’s room she put the dress back in the closet. Mom was asleep and, beside the bed, Cara softly said, “Mom, did you want to get some lunch?”
“No, baby. I just want to sleep.”
“Are you okay?” Cara eyed the whiskey and pill bottle. When she’d left this morning the label had been facing her. Now it wasn’t.
“I just need to rest.”
“Can I do anything for you?”
“No, baby.”
She left her mom in a miserable heap on the bed and quietly exited.
In the living room she dug through her purse and sighed. Thanks to her outburst at work, she’d need to find another job. She’d been so close to accomplishing her goals that she shed a tear for the lost sense of achievement. She found the card she’d been searching for and lifted the phone from its cradle. She dialed the number, and then nervously twirled her hair as she waited for the call to connect.
“This is Zach.”
“Hi…um…I’m Cara.” She plopped down onto a chair at the dining table.
“Well hello, Cara.” He sounded like he was smiling.
“I got your number from Stacy.”
“Oh yeah? Are you in classes with her?”
“I’ve never seen her before, but that may be because I’m a graduate student.”
“How studious of you.”
What a flirt! “Do you have any opportunities available?”
“I’m sure I can find something for you. Saturday morning, eight o’clock, meet me at number three Bayou Bend.”
“Got it. See you then.”
“Can’t wait. Bye.”
She grinned. Zachary was certainly an interesting character. She wondered how many gigs she’d be able to negotiate. Ten would be ideal, but she doubted an artist would need her to sit for that long. Maybe she could negotiate something.
She flopped her head onto her arm. How could her life go from completely structured to fucked inside out in a matter of moments? She needed a run. She’d missed it that morning since she’d been primping for Ed Koch’s arrival. So much for that…she hoped dear Ed contracted syphilis during his visit.
In her room she changed into her Dri-Fit wool, long-sleeved charcoal-gray top and black pants. Grabbing her iPod and hat, she made her way out the door. The day had turned cloudy and she wondered at her ability to make the over-eight-mile trek without getting rained on.
She wasn’t a big believer in stretching and thus never did it. Her body just didn’t require it. Instead she eased into a full stride by warming up with a light jog for the first mile. It helped that the bayou track was about a mile away. By the time she hit the track she was ready to make time.
In high school her male coach had told her that she didn’t have a runner’s body. Then he’d tried to fondle her and she’d kneed him in the nuts. Her mother had taken her to kick boxing classes as soon as her boobs had come in. She was twelve. Maybe she didn’t have the svelte, slim lines of a thoroughbred runner, but she could run a full marathon in just over four hours. She’d qualified for and ran in the Chicago and Boston marathons. She’d done others as well, but she was most proud of those. Her next goal would be to conquer Denver and San Francisco. Given the flat land and sea level altitude she lived in, she was at a loss for how to train for such an event.
She cued up her iPod to electronic running music and paced herself with the beat. Her mind drifted and cleared like a calm and vast blue sea with no end in sight. She was at peace and knew she would be for the next hour.
***
After they’d enjoyed a steak dinner at Prime, Max escorted Ed to the Loin of Venus. He had a few tricks up his sleeve. If Ed got too out of hand, he’d arranged to slip him a sleep aid. Luckily (or unluckily depending on one’s point of view) Max knew from previous engagements that Sonata was Ed’s sleeping drug of choice. Upon his last visit, Ed had left his bedroom in a mess. The cleaning lady had neatly organized all of Ed’s belongings into a pile to be returned to Ed. Only Max never got around to returning the items and today dug through the collection to unearth the bottle of sleep aids. Supposedly the drug was fast acting. Max was prepared to slip one in Ed’s drink if necessary.
Sitting in a private booth, Max watched Ed flirt with the attractive women of the high-dollar club. Ear splitting cheers erupted when a blonde pole dancer took the stage. She’d been introduced as Miss Pole Champ two thousand and
ten. She was amazing. Strong and agile, mesmerizing and eel-like in her movement. One move she did had her held to the pole using the arc of her arm near the elbow and the space behind her knee. She bent her legs behind her and swung high around the pole. Her demonstration had Max wondering if he possessed even half her strength. Yet, her body was supple and curvy, not hard or overly muscular.
Ed stood and whistled. “Sweet baby Jesus, there’s two of them.”
“Two of what?”
Ed sat in the pub chair. “She’s the twin to your office assistant.”
Now that Ed had pointed it out, Max saw the uncanny resemblance. Did Cara have a twin?
When Ed snapped his fingers in the air, a waitress ambled over.
“My name is Mindy, I’ll be your waitress for the evening. What can I start for you?”
“Max, Laphroaig?”
Max nodded. “Splash of water.”
Ed addressed Mindy, “You heard him, rocks for me…and I want that pole dancer to come sit in this chair so that I can share a drink with her.”
Mindy turned in the direction Ed pointed. “She keeps to the stage only.”
Ed peeled ten hundreds from his bankroll. “I’ll watch you walk this up to her and relay my invitation. Stress that it is only for a drink, nothing more. If you’re successful, you’ll be in possession of a wad this size.”
“Yes, sir.”
The poor child was so nervous her hands shook as she took the money. Ed and Max watched as Mindy tentatively approached the stage. She waited for the blonde beauty to finish her set before she addressed her. As the purpose of Mindy’s visit became clear, discernment bloomed across the dancer’s features. She shot them a curious look that quickly turned into a frown.
She took the cash from Mindy and bent to whisper something into her ear. She gave Mindy a shove and the girl disappeared. As she approached the table Max realized she wasn’t a young adult, but a fully developed woman. Max guessed early thirties. Her eyes reminded him of Juneau, his husky from childhood. They were eyes he’d seen before—Cara had those eyes. He’d never seen eyes so much like the color of cold, blue ice.
