He picked up the phone and punched one of the speed-dial numbers. It was answered on the first ring.
“Hey, Carlos, what do you guys have planned for tonight?”
“My amigo, corno estés?” Carlos sang out. Carlos was as Black as anyone, but since their childhood days in Oakland he'd told people he was Puerto Rican. To keep his story going, he always sprinkled his conversation with a few Spanish words.
“Just wondering if you guys were doing anything tonight.”
“Are you telling me that Anya is letting you off the leash?” Carlos asked, laughing.
“You know it's not like that.”
“Yeah, right. That's why an entire month has passed since we've heard from you.”
“That's why I'm calling. So what's up?”
“Well, William and I are going to the Sports Bar in Hermosa. The Lakers are playing the Warriors.”
“Sounds good. What time?”
“I have a client at five, and I'll be heading over after that. The game doesn't begin until seven thirty, but we plan on hanging out until then. So are we finally going to see you on a Friday night?”
“I'll be there.”
Carlos laughed again. “Either Anya is out of town or she finally dumped your sorry behind.”
“Just get your wallet ready. I'm going to take all your money when the Warriors beat the Lakers,” Braxton said, reminding Carlos that he'd never forgotten his home team.
They both laughed as they hung up. Braxton tapped his fingers on the desk. It was time for him to show Anya what he really thought of Mitchell and Associates. When she called him after her little party, she'd discover that he wasn't sitting around waiting, and maybe she would finally get the message.
Anya had wanted to be the first to arrive at the restaurant, but she lingered in her office, shuffling papers and waiting for the phone to ring. By six, she'd realized that Braxton was not going to share her joy.
“Hi, Anya.” Dianna rushed to her side. “How does it look? I hope you like it. We didn't have a lot of time.”
Anya took Dianna's hand. “It's fine,” she said, smiling, taking in the festively decorated room already filled with most of her team.
The room was dimly lit, getting much of its light from the lamp-posts that shone through the large windows. There were red and white balloons hovering near the ceiling, and the small tables throughout were covered with alternating red and white tablecloths. Anya's heels clicked against the wooden planks on the floor as she walked to the center. “You've outdone yourself, Ms. Macy.”
Dianna beamed. “I'm glad you're pleased, Ms. Mitchell.”
“Aren't we on a first-name basis yet?” David laughed as he joined them.
“Hello, Mr. Montgomery.” Anya chuckled, as Dianna excused herself.
David grinned, a kind of crooked half-smile that highlighted the dimple in his left cheek. He took a sip of the drink he was holding. “Can I get you something?”
“I'll have a soda.”
David casually placed his hand on her lower back and guided her to the bar.
“Only a soda? I think you deserve a little celebration yourself.”
“I'm celebrating, but I don't drink.” She smiled at the bartender and requested a Sprite.
David arched his eyebrow. “I didn't know that.”
“There's a lot you don't know, Mr. Montgomery. Because every time I've asked you to join Braxton and me for dinner, you've declined. I'm beginning to take it personally.”
David led Anya to the only empty table, in the back corner, next to a window that looked onto a crowded Melrose Boulevard. “Believe me, I don't have anything against you. I don't go out much. Speaking of your fiancé, where is Braxton?”
Anya paused. “He couldn't make it.”
“Ah, the busy writer.”
“Busy, busy.” Her words dripped with sarcasm.
David frowned but didn't respond.
“So,” Anya started, as she leaned toward him, “Mr. Boy Wonder, did you get all your business savvy from American Express, or did business school have something to do with it?”
David smirked. “It was more your savvy than mine that got this account.”
She ignored his implication. “But your expertise certainly helped. If I didn't know better, I would think you were one of those high-powered New York–Wall Street types.”
His face clouded, but he managed to keep his smile. He made a gesture with his head that Anya couldn't decipher. “Have you lived in Los Angeles your entire life?” he asked.
“Umm-hmm. Except for when I went to school in New York. I went to Columbia.”
“I didn't know that. I saw your degree from USC and assumed—”
“That was for graduate school. But I lived in New York for four years. Quite an experience. Where are you from?”
The smile left his face. “A little bit of everywhere. Did you like New York?”
She nodded. “It's different from Los Angeles. Have you ever been there?”
It took a moment for him to nod. “I was born in New York. You've built quite a business here. You've got to be proud.”
“I am.” She paused. “I wouldn't have guessed that you were from New York. How long did you live there?”
He lowered his eyes. “Until I was a teenager.” He raised his hand, signaling a waiter.
Anya watched him closely as he ordered another Midori Sour. By the time he turned back to her, he was smiling. He raised his glass in a toast and Anya followed. “To our winning team. May things with us just get better and better.”
He held her eyes as he took a sip of his drink, then smiled when he placed his glass on the table. “So what inspired you to start your own company?”
“One day I got tired of working for other folks and was convinced I could do this.”
“You've done good. It had to take a lot of courage.”
She noticed his dimple again and resisted the urge to reach out and touch his cheek. She cleared her throat. “It wasn't courage as much as faith.”
“Sounds like you're a religious person.”
She chuckled. “I don't know what that means.”
“Religious,” he said, as if he was about to give her a definition. “A person who goes to church and believes in God.”
T go to church and I believe in God. But if you were to ask me about my spirituality, I would say that I have a personal relationship with Jesus.”
David ran his hand through his beard. “I see.”
Anya laughed. “That's all you can say?”
“That's all I should say.”
She smiled. “Now that you know all about me, tell me something about you that I don't know from your resume.”
David looked past Anya and raised his hand. “Melissa, come over here a second,” he said to one of the senior associates.
“Hi, David, Anya.” Melissa's long auburn hair swung over her shoulder as she looked around the room. “This is really nice.”
“You deserve it—we all do,” Anya said. “I'm going to refill my drink, do either one of you want anything?”
“Nothing for me. I want to catch my breath first,” Melissa said. David shook his head.
As Melissa sat with David, Anya stood at the bar. Her eyes swept the room, but she kept returning to David. She sipped her soda and watched as he laughed with Melissa. “What's your story, Mr. Montgomery?” she muttered.
“Anya, thanks for a great party.” A few of the associates came over to chat with their boss.
“You're welcome, but beware—it's my way of bribing you for the long hours ahead.”
They laughed as she strolled away, to talk to Alaister who was standing alone by the door.
“I hope you're having a good time, because this celebration would have never happened without you,” she said.
He looked at her and smiled slightly. “Thanks, I did work hard on getting this account.” Then he lowered his eyes. “I wasn't sure if you knew that.”
“Alaiste
r, I'm very aware of how hard you work.” She paused. “I had hoped we cleared up everything a few months ago.”
He took a sip from the wineglass he held. “It's all clear, Anya.”
She squinted slightly. “I hope so, because you are a valuable asset to the team. The only reason I brought David in is because he has more experience. But I expect you to grow with me, Alaister. Although you weren't ready for the position six months ago, you'll be ready soon.”
He twirled the glass in his hand. “Whatever you say.”
He walked away without saying another word, and Anya sighed. She knew he had been disappointed when she announced David's addition to the team. And even though they'd discussed the reasons, she still had the feeling that Alaister didn't accept her decision. But at least he's professional, she thought. He didn't let his personal feelings get in the way of his performance. The Linden account was proof of that.
The group started spilling into the restaurant for the Friday night jazz ensemble. Anya scanned the room and found David alone at the bar. She emptied her glass and walked over to him.
“The troops were happy,” she said, as she motioned for the bartender to pour her another soda.
“Yeah, Boss, thanks again.” He grinned.
She couldn't resist. “How do you do that?” He frowned, confused. “You only smile with half of your mouth, kind of to one side. It looks … rugged, mischievous.”
His smile disappeared, and he looked into his glass.
“That was a compliment.”
When he looked up, he stared into her eyes for a long moment, and Anya held her breath. The faint sound of music was coming from the next room.
“My mother used to say the same thing.” He leaned his head back and emptied his glass in one swallow. “She—she passed away a few years ago, and you reminded me of her.”
“I'm sorry. I didn't know.”
“It's not something I like to talk about.”
She nodded slightly. “I understand. I lost both of my parents a while ago.”
His eyes widened, and he lightly touched her shoulder. “Now I'm sorry.”
“It's all right,” she said, waving her hand. “Though it's not something you ever get over, I've found a way to live with it. And I know they're with the Lord.”
His smile returned. “Let's not end such a fabulous day this way.” He hesitated before he added, “Why don't we go somewhere so we can talk?”
“Ah… I can't,” she faltered, surprised by his invitation. “I have to be at the airport early tomorrow.”
“Running away just as things are starting to get good?”
She shook her head. “I'm picking up my cousin.” Anya pulled her valet ticket from her purse.
“Let me walk you out.”
“No, you should stay. The music is good, and who knows who you might meet,” Anya teased.
“I'm too much of a gentleman to let a lady go into the night alone. Anything can happen in the dark.”
Anya bit her lip, but she allowed him to lead her into the main restaurant, which was still filled with customers.
Before they could make it to the valet, one of the young men ran to them. “Hello, Ms. Mitchell.”
“Michael, you're always working.”
The valet grinned. “It seems that way. I'll get your car.” He trotted off before she could give him the ticket.
“Now I am impressed.” David grinned. “Even the valet knows your name.”
“I come here a lot, don't be impressed.”
“Too late, I already am.”
Anya looked at him and froze. There was that dimpled, crooked smile again and his eyes seemed to hold her hostage. She forced herself to look away and poked through her purse, pretending to look for something. The squealing tires from the underground parking lot were a welcome relief.
“Good night, David. Thanks again for a great job.”
He held the car door open for her. “That's why you pay me the big bucks, right?”
She laughed. “You earned your dollars today.”
He bowed. “Thankyouverymuch.” He closed the door and his eyes drilled into her again as he leaned into the car window. “Have a good evening.” Their eyes held for a long moment before he headed back into the restaurant.
Anya fumbled with her keys, giving herself time to watch him stroll away. “Mr. Montgomery,” she said aloud, “you are a man of mystery.” She waited until he disappeared, then laid her foot on the accelerator and screeched her car into the night.
Chapter 6
Anya made a sharp turn, maneuvered her car into the LAX parking lot, and sang hallelujah when she found a space on the first level. Shed planned to arrive a bit earlier, giving herself a chance to grab a Starbucks vente mocha and find the right gate, without having to rush. But when the alarm had chirped this morning, she slapped the clock and turned over, yielding to the comfort of her satin sheets.
It took her just a few minutes to run from the car to the terminal. The blinking numbers on the schedule board indicated the Chicago flight had already arrived. With her leather backpack bouncing against her, Anya sprinted to Gate 49A and made it just as the first passengers began exiting. She stepped from the crowd, eagerly awaiting the arrival of her cousin, Sasha.
Although they were first cousins, they were not as close as Anya would have liked. Before Sasha was two and when Anya was just nine, her uncle Jake had relocated his family, accepting a teaching position at the University of Chicago. Her father's brother and his family had visited them almost every Christmas and Sasha had come for many summers, but they hadn't spent much time together as adults. This was their first real chance.
“Hey, cuz!” Sasha yelled, waving both hands in a frenzy. She strutted toward Anya like a runway model, her long limbs swinging with a cool confidence that Anya didn't remember. Sasha tossed her head as if flinging back her hair, only her shoulder–length curls were gone. Her hair was cropped so close to her head that Sasha was almost bald. It was a shocking hairstyle, but Sasha carried it off. It made her look younger than her twenty-nine years.
Sasha's black-leather jumpsuit hugged every curve of her body, flaunting her one-hundred-and-twenty-five-pound statuesque form. Fellow passengers stepped aside, allowing Sasha to flow through the crowd and Anya could hear their whispers—who is she? This woman was somebody, for sure.
Anya's smile widened. She didn't know what she expected, but clearly Sasha had landed solidly on two very shapely legs. “I am so glad to see you!” Anya said as they hugged.
Sasha held her cousin for a moment, then pulled back suddenly. “Come on, Anya. Let's go to baggage claim.” She took Anya's hand and started a slow trot.
“What's wrong?” Even though she was almost as tall as Sasha, Anya had difficulty keeping up with her leggy cousin.
“Nothing.” The heels of Sasha's boots clicked against the newly waxed floor as they scampered past shops in the United terminal. “I just want to get my bag so that we can get going.”
At baggage claim, Sasha hovered close to the carousel as her eyes searched the crowd.
Anya surveyed her cousin from head to toe. “Well, you look great. All the havoc you were causing in Chicago hasn't seemed to affect you.
“I wasn't burning down the city. All I did was appear on a television show.”
“Jerry Springer is not just a TV show.”
She shrugged. “Gordon deserved it. But it was no big deal.”
Anya couldn't believe her cousin's nonchalance. From the way she'd heard the story, Gordon, Sasha's ex-husband, had threatened to do everything except put a contract out on her. And, with his connections, Sasha's parents were terrified. “No big deal? Then why did you hightail it out of Chicago?”
“Because Gordon is crazy. And my parents believed his threats.”
“You knew he wouldn't sit back after you told the world his business.”
“What was I supposed to do? Take everything he was throwing at me?”
Anya shook her h
ead. After seven volatile years of marriage, a turbulent divorce, and discovering that Gordon's wife-in-waiting was pregnant, Sasha had exhibited the fury of the scorned ex. The producers of The Jerry Springer Show had eagerly given Sasha her forum to dish the dirt on Chicago's most successful real-estate developer. Her tactics were dubious, but effective. When the show aired last week, Gordon had been appropriately humiliated—and furious.
“Your parents didn't deserve this drama.”
“Maybe it wasn't one of my best moves.” She paused as a wide grin broke across her face. “But, girl, it was fun. And everyone knows that Gordon barks like a toothless Rottweiler. He's not going to do anything. I came here to give my parents room and take a vacation from those crumb-snatchers,” Sasha said, referring to the second-grade students she'd left behind while she took this sabbatical. “And I knew this would please Madear. She didn't give my parents a break. Calling every day to give her opinion on how they should handle me. I'm grown. No one can handle me.”
Anya rolled her eyes as Sasha droned on.
“Where is Grandmother Dearest anyway? I was sure she would be at the gate waiting with her usual look of disdain.”
Before Anya could object to Sasha's statement, a portly gentleman interrupted them. “Ah, excuse me, Sasha.” The man grasped his briefcase handle tightly and shifted his feet. “Sasha, ah, I wanted to get your telephone number.”
Anya's eyebrows arched as she watched her cousin move closer to the man.
“I don't have a number where I can be reached,” Sasha said throatily. “So give me your number.” She towered over the man and her breath flickered the few wisps of hair atop his head. “I'll call you this evening and we can do all those things we talked about.”
The man licked his lips and stared into her eyes, then suddenly broke eye contact. He swallowed hard, disappointment etched on his face. “Uh …” The man looked down and spoke to his shoes.
“Maybe we'll see each other … some other time … soon, I hope.” He turned and walked away quickly.
Joy Page 4
