When it was business it was business, but both welcomed and entertained conversations that were far out of the scope of what her job responsibilities entailed and what was on his agenda. He was the boss, though, and one that she absolutely loved working for. Given the opportunity, like many of the female employees at J.D. Everett & Associates, she wouldn’t have objected to becoming something more. They all seemed to have a teenage-like infatuation with Mason.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
Mason’s desk was layered with paperwork, which was very out of character for him. He was highly organized when it came to day-to-day operations, so seeing this raised a concerned eyebrow from Christina.
“Oh…yeah, this is nothing. I came in early to take care of a few things and, well, it’s a lot as you can see,” he joked. “Come in.”
She took a seat opposite of him and began going over his calendar, though he hardly paid attention. She said something to him as he paced the room but he didn’t hear. It was as if she wasn’t there at all, though she still continued to go through scheduled appointments he had that afternoon as if he were listening. Unknowingly he interrupted her.
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
She was hesitant at first. “Okay…” she responded, crossing her legs and sitting back in the chair.
She closed her laptop, sat it on the table beside her, and watched Mason trying to prep his question, her expression saying she was somewhat confused and interested to see how personal this was about to get. He walked around to the front of his desk and stood directly before her.
“Hypothetically speaking, if you didn’t know me not just on a professional level, I mean at all if you didn’t know me at all and one night at an event or even a random bar we met engage in conversation enough for you to clearly see I’m interested in you and I hand you my business card what would you do?”
This has to be a trick question, she thought. Or maybe it wasn’t. She’d listened to every word he said carefully. In her mind, there were too many ‘ifs’ and ‘yous’ for this not to really be about her. It was a stretch, but maybe he was actually showing his interest in her finally. Her mind was all over the place. Although in a way his question and the answer were simple, she couldn’t get past the possibility that he may have indirectly been trying to ask her out. She tilted her head slightly, staring back at him, carefully evaluating his question and how exactly she should answer. Enticingly she uncrossed her legs and adjusted the skirt she was wearing, almost inviting him to make a physical move on her right then and there.
“Whoa” she took a deep breath before she answers, and decides it’s now or never. “Assuming the conversation was going exactly where I think it was, there wouldn’t have been much else you would’ve had to say,” she paused cautiously, inching towards him, “I would have done differently. Assuming you weren’t already coming home with me, I would have called you immediately,” she stressed, “and more than likely hated myself in the best way come morning. Hypothetically speaking, that is.”
Expecting him to make the next move, she sat there, doe-eyed and wanting. He asked a question and she answered as honestly as she could, regardless of how it may have sounded. That’s what he wanted, right? So a date, or some kind of request was sure to follow, she thought.
Far from being the case, with a sense of validation from her response the only word that fell from his mouth was, “Hmmm.”
She didn’t know what to say. What is ‘hmmm’ supposed to mean? she asked herself.
He hadn’t even noticed her adjusting her skirt or inching towards him, or her flirtatious tone. He looked back down at the business card he still held in his hand and walked right out of his office, leaving her sitting there embarrassingly unaware of what had just happened.
In his mind, all he wanted was a woman's perspective, affirmation that he was right. Now he had to get a second and final opinion, if for nothing else than the self-assurance that he was still on top of his game. In so many ways, he could be quite vain. If something didn’t play out the way he’d anticipated, whoever she was at the time had to be the problem, not him. In his mind, he was too good to say no to.
When he got this way, Jackson was the only one that would actually entertain his attempts to make himself more than whatever the situation was. Unfortunately, Jackson was about to get an ear full. He hadn’t been in his office long before Mason stormed through the doors. He had just returned from his two-week honeymoon in Bora Bora a part of the society islands of French Polynesia and wouldn’t have been in the office at all had he not had an important meeting.
There he was, however, regretting stepping foot in the building as Mason unloaded on him.
Chapter 7
“So what? She gave you her number,” Jackson said.
He didn’t understand why Mason was making such a big deal out of it. This wasn’t anything new for him; he’d gotten plenty of numbers before.
“What about her giving you her number is any different from any other girl that’s given you their number?” Jackson asked him.
Mason looked at him as if he hadn’t heard a word he just said. “Maybe the fact that she did it,” he argued.
“I think you’re making more out of this than what it is.”
“I’m not making it anything.”
“You’re obviously making it something because I’ve never seen you this bothered about one girl and one phone number before.”
Mason shrugged off his comment, thinking Jackson was being his normal analytical self.
“If you ask me,” Jackson continued, “I think you like her.”
Mason laughed, “Come on Jacks, you already know that’s not me at all.”
“No, I do, I actually think you like her. I think because she didn’t fold to your usual methods and actually fired back at you, you find her interesting.”
“Well you’re wrong,” Mason stood up. “I don’t like her …and I don’t find her interesting.”
“Really?” he doubted.
“Yes. Really.”
Jackson leaned against the corner of the desk staring at Mason.
“So then why are we here two weeks later talking about one girl who gave you her phone number on a business card that you are still holding in your hand?”
He watched Mason’s expression shift from thinking about how he was going to answer to a blank expression lost in translation. Jackson knew something about this girl had caught Mason’s eye. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Mason so worked up over a girl that he’d only seen -- not taken out, not spoken to, not slept with, just seen. He laughed, watching Mason struggle to find an answer, but became immediately distracted by a meeting notification on his cell phone.
“Did you call her?” He asked, somewhat changing the subject.
Arrogant and full of pride, Mason sat back down in the chair and repositioned his necktie.
“Absolutely not,” he replied.
Jackson laughed.
“But you want to,” he asked rhetorically, peeking through the office window.
The phone on his desk rang, providing yet another break from Mason answering the question.
“Please show him into the boardroom and let him know I’ll be right in,” he said to his secretary before hanging up the phone.
Mason stood up from his chair, trying to avoid the questions as Jackson prepared to head into his meeting.
“So I take it you aren’t going to answer my question?” Jackson asked, putting the phone down.
Mason gave him an expressionless look. Jackson just shook his head and grabbed a file off of his desk.
“You are unbelievable,” he said, “sooner or later little brother, you’re going to have to slow down.”
“Well it won’t be today and definitely not tonight. I’m not trying to end up like you,” he laughed. “By the way, how was the honeymoon?”
Jackson pulled his suit jacket from the hanger behind the door without looking in his direct
ion, almost as if he were shielding himself from Mason reading his expression.
“Let’s just say …it wasn’t what I expected.”
“Bora Bora wasn’t all you expected, or Keri wasn’t all you expected?” he asked, guessing by the sound of his tone it was more than Bora Bora.
Jackson’s silence was enough to answer, but Mason had to go a step further.
“Did you at least, you know, enjoy yourself?” He asked.
It was supposed to be a big thing for them, especially with Keri still being a virgin and Jackson waiting the entire four years. Even though the trip may not have been perfect, Mason thought at least he got to enjoy the spoils of marriage.
“We tried, you know, to enjoy ourselves but …things happen.”
“Things happen? What kinds of things happen? You were there for two weeks, so what? Did things happen the entire time?”
Jackson lightly laughed off answering the question and walked out for his meeting. Mason wasn’t surprised. Like he’d said many times, he didn’t like Keri; he figured whatever didn’t happen at their honeymoon was her doing.
Aside from a few remaining meetings on his schedule, the rest of his day was pretty light. Most of the office had already packed up and gone home by midafternoon, and the others were on their way out the door as the day was coming to a close.
Christina stayed clear of Mason most of the day. She knew she had made a complete fool of herself in his office earlier, even though he still hadn’t noticed. He did, however, wonder why she was so distant and short with him.
The rest of the day didn’t consist of anything out of the ordinary. Every week in the office was the same as the one before. Mason normally stayed behind on Fridays to make sure things were closed out properly, with contracts and whatever else had to be set up to ensure that he wouldn’t have to come into the office on the weekend. After having worked nearly two weeks straight finalizing deals for new development along the riverfront, he needed a break from his computer, the office, and his thoughts. He sent everyone who was still there home a little early, and followed behind them not too long afterward. He figured by the time he could get home which was only twenty minutes from his office he’d shower, throw on something a little more comfortable, and head out to one of the local nightclubs still early enough to just sit back and watch. That was one thing he liked to do differently. While most of the guys who went to the clubs showed up later after the place had nearly filled, he like to see what was coming in early before the massive crowd altered his perception. In theory, he liked to make sure what he took home would look just as good in the morning.
Mason lived in a small city on the outskirts of Wilmington, called Greenville. In so many ways the city felt like it had its own culture and ways of doing things. Shopping centers were small but had the essence of old times past, which made it very welcoming, and the neighborhoods were absolutely beautiful. A lot of the homes were two-story colonials with a traditional charm that made the neighborhood stand out all the more. His home, however, was a carriage-style house just at the bottom of a cul-de-sac in a community called Stonewald one of the most desired communities in Greenville. The house was beautiful; it had four bedrooms, a two-car garage, finished basement, and hardwood floors throughout the entire house. He moved there a few years ago, after selling his condo. It was a big move, one that traditionally wouldn’t have been done without a family in mind, but it was just him; just Mason. Just me, he thought to himself.
He drove home unconsciously bridging the thoughts of just him to Jackson getting married, and even the conversation they’d had earlier. One day you’re going to have to slow down, he remembered Jackson saying, laughing to himself. Coupled with the fact that he couldn’t get Sydney out of his mind for most of the morning, he did wonder for a brief moment if Jacks was right.
Passing by a number of homes before his own, the sun had already set and the streetlights that led him into his development were already lit. He pulled into his driveway early than usual. With no need to rush into the house he just sat in his car and watched. He left the car running, hearing only the sound of the air blowing from his air conditioner. He turned off the ignition and just sat in his car for a few moments, looking at his neighbors and the interactions they had with each other. His neighbors weren’t bad at all. A lot of them spoke to him in passing, usually in the mornings heading out to work or on the weekends if they happened to see each other leaving the house. Jim, his neighbor two houses down, was married, with a little girl that had to be around three or four years old. Every day, rain or shine, his wife met him at the door before he got out of the car, smiling as if all day long she’d been waiting for that one single moment just to see him. Most days Mason watched them while he was getting out of his car and laughed, thinking it reminded him of something he’d see on Leave It To Beaver. No life could be that perfect, he thought although today he was giving it far more thought than he usually would have. When he walked through the front door it was just him; there was no one to ask, ‘how was your day,’ or greet him with a kiss, or even something as uncomplicated as a smile. Maybe slowing down isn’t a terrible idea, he thought.
“Wait….what? No!” He caught himself. That’s a very bad idea, he thought.
Mason had enough trust issues to keep others at a distance and kept himself far from letting anyone close to him. A relationship was out of reach for him, meaning a family was definitely out of the question. All that lovey dovey, kiss me when I get home, tell me you love me stuff…that’s for them, not for me, he thought. That’ll never be for me. He got out of the car, politely waving to his neighbor. He walked through his front door, closing it behind him, and stood in the foyer. This is everything I need right here, he said to himself, and what I don’t have right now, I’ll be getting tonight.
Chapter 8
There was a club in North Wilmington called The Avenue. Tucked away in a quiet part of the city, it was one of the more lavish lounges in Delaware very trendy and intimate. It had two floors with an overlooking loft on the upper story which was lit dimly enough to make out faces or, as Mason would call it, measure the level of attraction. Unlike most clubs in the area, the DJ at The Avenue played music for the sound, not the lyrics, so the atmosphere was entertaining enough to dance but calm enough to sit back and enjoy a drink or entertain a friend. Every other Friday they hosted an exclusive happy hour event, invitation VIP only. Gentlemen on the list were permitted to be accompanied by no more than two male guests, and the ladies, no more than four female friends. Mason’s was a name they kept on the list, as he was in many ways considered to be one of the most eligible young men in the area that frequented the club. The idea was to promote a classy atmosphere of singles, both men and women, which was something no other club focused on or offered. Most clubs were more concerned about quantity than quality, but not this place. The Avenue understood the value in being upscale and chic. It was something that set them apart from the rest – a place that provided the close to the best, especially when it came to women, and ones that often caught Mason’s eye.
Before tonight Mason hadn’t been to the club in months, but even then, like now, he always arrived alone. He preferred it this way. He didn’t like too many people in his business. But then again, who would? He walked into the club. It was dark at first, but in so many ways that was comforting. From around the corner, just beyond the security, he could hear the rhythmic muffle of distant music providing a backdrop for the meaningless chatter of people behind him unaware of the guest list. He laughed, walking past the hostess, sliding his ID back into his pocket. Where most lounges carried the scent of sweat, alcohol, and cleaning products, this one was strategic in its placement of ambient scenting. It was light, yet not too dominant, clean and soothing. Ahhh, it's good to be home, he thought.
Finally, finding his way to an empty booth in the corner, he caught the eye of a cocktail waitress approaching him to take his drink order. Something about her was very familiar to him. Unbeliev
able, he shook his head and smiled downward, laughing at the coincidence of running into her here…now. What was her name? His mind drew a numbing blank, which he knew he would pay for in a few minutes when she reached him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her, although he remembered that it involved far less clothing. By now her eyes had adjusted, moving from table to table and person to person through the few people that had arrived moments ago. Just as fast as he’d recognized her, she recognized him, but her face was absent of a smile or any expression that said she was remotely happy to see him. She made her way through the few booths and tabletops ahead of him until finally she reached his table.
“What can I get you?” she nonchalantly asked.
He paused before answering, his eyes easing towards her name tag. Angie!! That’s right, now I remember you, he said to himself.
Her name was Angela but she preferred to be called Angie, at least that was some of what he remembered.
“I didn’t know you worked here,” he said.
She paid little attention to his attempts at small talk, or his seeming to be interested in any conversation at all.
“Do you want something to drink or don’t you?”
“Um, yeah I guess…I’ll have a Captain and Coke.”
She turned away without saying another word and walked towards the bar. Angie, he thought to himself. The last time he’d seen her had to be months ago, three or four maybe. Where they met was a distant memory, but everything in between was pretty obvious. Why she seemed so irritated with him, though, he was still searching for the answer. Before his thought was even finished, his Captain and Coke slid in front of him. Angie started to walk away before he could even look up to mouth the word thanks.
Where We Left Off Page 4
