Love's Inconvenient Truth

by Love Belvin

  “All right! In the meantime, I need everyone calling on every lead they have. Find out everything you need to know about all three clients and funnel them through Elle and me, and we’ll hash them out and decide what the team can use. Lewis, you get their names and images on our site right away. We need a rush on it because as Jamie and I are out in the field, scouring for clients, I need these names plastered to give us credibility. That’s all for now, folks.” Jackson dismissed us and went into his new office.

  Marie sauntered over to my desk. “I owe you big time. Lunch is on me,” she whispered.

  “For Blackboard Scratchers?” I asked. Marie nodded. “Quite honestly, it was an even split. I don’t know shit about them. That would have been more work on my part.”

  Marie supplied a smug grin. “Then remind me to take you to your first BBS concert,” she chortled, turning on her heel to her desk.

  The day sped by. In fact, the next week or so was pretty much a blur. Marie, though not making huge strides with wild rock band, Blackboard Scratchers, was certainly gaining access to them by their overwhelmed manager, Richie. It was a great start for Dynamic Branding’s infiltration. Bridgette kept us all in line, acting as the liaison between us and Jackson. Tim made sure our administrative needs were met. Lewis busied himself with creating unique and compelling DB logos and ads. I had no idea what Brad was up to. He’d always seemed to be at his desk, either on the phone or typing frenetically at his keyboard. Jamie…did whatever the hell it was that Jamie did when he wasn’t boning Clarice on the firm’s property. I heard them going at it in the broom closet, next to the bathrooms a few days ago. I knew it was them because of the clacking of earrings I heard passing the closet, on my way to the restroom. Minutes after returning to my desk, a discombobulated Clarice came strolling toward my desk, smoothing out her skin-tight skirt with her earring clattering the same pitch, but a slower rhythm from what I heard in the closet.

  Just sloppy, these two!

  That Thursday at eleven in the morning, while most of us were busy at our desks, Ashley strolled in, surprisingly quiet. She smiled at everyone before Tim jumped up and ushered her to Jackson’s office where he was busy on the phone.

  My eyes jetted over to Marie, whose eyes were already transmitting communication with mine. Ashley didn’t seem as larger than life as she did two weeks ago at the party. She was a petite girl with almond skin and slender legs in her black high heel booties that gave her bare legs extra length under a black pleated skirt and black suede jacket that stopped just at her waist and tied there, too. Her hair was up in a messy bun, diminishing her overall appearance, in my opinion.

  Through the opened blinds, I caught Jackson’s questioning glare, which seemed to be a reaction to her presence. Was he not expecting her?

  “What the hell is Ashley doing here?” I peered up to find Jamie standing in front of my desk, confused by her presence as well.

  “What? Are you jealous that you aren’t the stud with the midday booty call, Jamie?” Marie jeered.

  Jamie rebounded quickly, “Oh, my mid-morning, midday and midnight booty calls are far more discrete than this. In fact, you had no idea of the one I had a few hours ago did you?” He wiggled his eyebrows with that statement.

  I couldn’t stand men who kissed and told, even as a youngster. They were turnoffs even more so now. No one needed to know you had a piece of ass. Though a small part of me knew Clarice wouldn’t mind him gloating about it.

  “I guess we should get used to these impromptu visits by women, huhn?” Marie asked.

  “Hell no! Hunt doesn’t mix business with pleasure. He can be a real stiff when it comes to work. He’s always working and rarely is he playing. I keep telling him all work with occasional ass makes a—”

  “…very successful mogul before the age of thirty. Now what can I help you with, Jamie?” Again, I detested gossiping men. What Jackson did in his personal life was his business.

  “Here is the list of the latest fashion consultants you requested. I had to call in a favor for that third one. Apparently, he now has a “private number”—Jamie put up air quotations—“because he’s the most sought after consultant and is currently working on his own line. Let me know if you have any trouble getting through to him. I have an old lacrosse buddy who used to fuck him a few years back and he owes me a favor. I’ll be glad to cash it in for you.”

  I hadn’t expected Jamie to get back to me right away with a list of leading fashion consultants for my Erika Erceg file.

  My brows narrowed as I prepared to ask my next question. “Jamie, what qualifies you for your role here?” I meant no harm; I really wanted to know and had been curious about it for weeks. Several times this week, we had been referred to him when we needed to access people for leads. I didn’t understand why.

  “Simply because I hold the black and red books. I’m the person you want to know and the same you need to know to successfully network. There are few people in the entertainment industry that I cannot touch in some way. I’m the man, Elle,” he informed proudly.

  I chewed on my lip, trying to decide if I could take him seriously or not. That was until I heard Jackson’s office door swing open and Ashley trekked out of there trailing dust. She pounded the button for the elevator and threw herself in there with just as much determination. When the elevator door closed, I glanced over into Jackson’s office where he was back in the throes of work, in the same posture he had been in prior to her arrival.

  “All work and occasional ass makes a dull Hunt. I’m the man you need to know, Elle,” Jamie lost the smile as he fixed his gaze upon me.

  “Anybody ever tell you that you favor Charles Michael Davis?” I asked to break the awkward energy between us.

  “Yes. Either Davis or the singer, Miguel.”

  “Yeah, without the decorated hair though.” I paused to take in his features. Jamie was right; he did resemble them, only he had a short haircut like Charles Michael Davis. “Well, thanks, Jamie. I’ll keep your talents in mind moving forward.” I offered a little wink. I was sure it made his day as he walked away with an extra pep in his step and his shoulders expanded.

  Thirty minutes later, I started packing up my things to head out. I was able to set up appointments with two of the consultants from the list Jamie provided. I needed to get on their schedules without a moment to waste. But as I rose from my desk, Jackson came out of the office and paid a gander directly to me, giving me that loaded gaze again. I narrowed my eyes, still confused by why he held me all the time with such a strong regard. I’d never seen it before and it made me uncomfortable.

  “Are you leaving?” he asked, almost as if he were crushed by the prospect.

  “Yes, I have a meeting in the Garment District.”

  He exhaled, frustrated, but I could tell it wasn’t necessarily because of me as his eyes cased the office, taking inventory of the number of empty desks. Bridgette then came out of her office seemingly on a mission as well.

  “Okay, gang, I see some of us are missing. I’ll have to send a text. I hope you don’t have plans for tomorrow afternoon. We’re having a brainstorming session at Jackson’s. I’ll include his address in the text.”

  My mouth went dry and my belly fluttered at the thought of going to Jackson’s. I had no desire to know him that intimately. I questioned whether the notion was even ethical. I could ask, but would that have been rude?

  “Will that pose a problem for you?” Jackson’s husky vocals crept up on me. I turned to find him mere inches away at an uncomfortable proximity. Lost in a trance, I didn’t see him amble over to me.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You’re standing here with your mouth hanging open from Bridgette’s announcement. It’s laid out in your contract that there will be unconventional hours expected. I hope you’re up for it.” Jackson’s eyes didn’t settle upon me like everyone else’s, his reached out to me and held me in arrest. They danced upon my face and zoomed into my core. I had to remind myself to
breathe.

  “No, of course not. It’s just that she never mentioned times and I do have morning responsibilities.” I offered as I tried taking a couple of short steps back to distance myself from the aromatic experience of his cologne.

  “Just as long as I’m not keeping you from a date or anything.” Jackson’s lips twitched into a mocking grin.

  “Aren’t you crossing the imaginary line?”

  “And what line is that?”

  At his question, I instinctively turned my head, afraid that someone was watching and listening to this suggestive conversation. Marie wasn’t at her desk and Jamie was deeply engaged in a telephone conversation with his back to us. Bridgette was back in her office, at her desk.

  “The ‘Elle and Jackson will never engage in a personal conversation or act’ imaginary line. You’re toting it, Jackson.”

  He huffed a short chuckle as he licked his bottom lip, much to my disadvantage. His brows knitted. “Is this going to be an impossible task for us, Elle?”

  “I don’t know about for you, but I can handle it.” I declared with my head cocked to the side.

  His hand pulled up to rub that small patch of hair just under his bottom lip, above his chin while his eyes traveled into the distance. He stood erect, letting off another soft chuckle and I stood there waiting for whatever he had.

  “Elle, we’re adults—albeit adults who find each other attractive. We work together and will share a lot more waking hours…and alone, considering your position here. You’re going to learn my personality and that I say things just to loosen you up. I promise I won’t bite,” then his vocals turned thick, gruff…hugely reminiscent of his groans in my ear that Friday night at the hotel. “…unless you ask me to.” Jackson’s eyes went into a priapic slope at that statement.

  “Incredible,” I hissed with calmed irritation. “I have to go, Jackson. I have work to do. Perhaps you can call your girlfriend back in here for lunchtime biting and licking sessions. As for me, I’d like to make good on my promise to you when you told me I had the position that day at lunch.” I walked off likely just as irritated as Ashley earlier.

  I could hear Jackson’s low chuckle in my wake.

  five

  Later on that night, I was out at dinner with Clarice. We were feasting on Cuban cuisine and margaritas, getting wasted by the gulp.

  “So, how are you fitting in at work?” Clarice asked.

  “So far, so good. It’s been a slow start, but today has been by far the most successful since I started. I followed up on a few leads and I’m feeling good about them.”

  “Good. And how about the team? Have you guys been gelling?”

  “Pretty much. Everyone has assigned roles, but not everyone has been activated as of yet, particularly Brad. He’s waiting on preliminary work from Marie, and further up the chain before he can start working his magic. Other than that, everyone has been cordial.” I sipped my delicious margarita.

  “And Jackson?”

  I steeled, not knowing where she was going with that question. I still didn’t know if Jackson had shared with Jamie about our rendezvous. And if he did and Jamie told Clarice, I’m sure she’d feel some kind of way about not hearing it from me. I’d wondered if this was her way of craftily broaching the subject. Quickly, I decided to play cool as I finished chewing and swallowed my food.

  “He wasn’t there earlier on in the week, you know that. But since he’s been back, he’s been holed up in his office. He’s holding a brainstorming session at his place tomorrow. I think it’s a little weird, but it’s stated in some form in our contracts…something about the business of the day—blah…blah…blah.” I knew because since speaking to Jackson earlier, I’d looked it up.

  “He has an apartment over at Time Warner…Trump International, overlooking Central Park. I’ve never been inside, but Jamie had to pick something up from him the other night and I stayed down in the car for a few minutes while he went up. Girl, bellman service and all.” She whistled, clearly impressed. “That’s how the other half lives.”

  Why would he want to host us at his apartment? It just seemed too personal to me. I didn’t like intimate settings; I wouldn’t know how to behave in such scenery under the guise of work.

  I shrugged my shoulders and bit down on a tortilla. “So, you and Jamie?”

  Clarice’s face reddened as she brought her neck down to her shoulders. “Yeah, since the party. He’s been really fun.”

  “Nice.” I nodded my head. I didn’t judge her on being with a younger guy, just as long as she was having fun and safely, I was all for it. Who was I to say otherwise?

  I noticed Clarice paused. My eyes shot up to her golden brown irises and narrowed.

  “What?” I asked dryly.

  “You think I’m crazy for sleeping with a guy Jamie’s age.” Clarice sounded broken.

  “No…no…no.” I shook my head, my mouth half full with food. “In fact, I believe the opposite. If you’re having fun responsibly, I think it’s great.”

  “But?” she asked with her chin to the table as if she was waiting to be scolded.

  “Damn it, Clarice! We’re not that old, but just be sure you don’t get in over your head, thinking this kid has the same values as you. At his age, he’s about establishing a career and sowing his oats, as he should be. At our age, we should be solidifying our careers and looking for something permanent and sound to coast us into our middle-age years.”

  There was a pause after we played the staring game. I ordered another drink and she followed suit.

  After a few more beats she uttered, “Is that what you want…something permanent and sound?

  Shit. I knew I’d get called out on my choice of words.

  “I already had my opportunity. It was sound, just not so permanent.” I didn’t look her in the eye. I couldn’t. I hadn’t cried in years and wasn’t about to now under the pretense of a sappy Clarice and slight inebriation.

  “So, are you ready for your visit back home tomorrow? Will Colton tag along this time for your mother’s birthday?” I quickly changed the subject.

  “I don’t think so. They’re keeping him busy in Dallas. He’s been working like an Egyptian slave at that law firm. It’ll just be me and Moms.”

  “Nice. I’m sure you guys will have fun with your girl time,” I assured as my phone chirped, alerting me of a text. Clarice kept chatting as I checked it.

  “She wants to go shopping for new boots. I told her we could do that up in Charleston—”

  “Aye, Clarice,” I interrupted her midsentence.

  The text was from Bridgette with the address to Jackson’s home.

  “Yeah?”

  “Didn’t you say Jackson lived in Manhattan?”

  “Yes…I’m sure of it.”

  “The address I just got for him is for somewhere out in Long Island.”

  “Are you sure? Let me see.” She reached for my phone. “Ah-ha. I see it is. That’s weird. Are you going to be okay getting there?”

  “I guess so. Not that I have much of a choice.”

  Clarice’s phone rang. She jumped to answer it. It didn’t take long for me to guess the caller when she sang, “Jamie,” into the phone. “Tonight?” she asked with all teeth.

  Giddiness is so corny. I snickered to myself.

  “Well, I’m just finishing up dinner with Elle. I guess I can make myself available in an hour. My place? Okay!” She ended the call. Clarice wiggled her eyebrows and boastfully announced, “Guess who will be working off this ropa vieja with a twenty-four-year-old sex fiend tonight?” she beamed.

  “Mmmmmm…enjoy,” I mustered.

  “Oh, I will!” Clarice shimmied in her seat. Hit with a thought, she tossed her head to the side. “I know you’re a private person, but I’ve been dying to know…” She gave me a tentative gaze. I inclined my head towards her, prompting her to continue. She bit her bottom lip, summoning the courage. “When was the last time you’ve…had fun?”

  I could swe
ar I saw every sweat bead formulating on her forehead. She was right; I didn’t discuss personal matters with Clarice, or anyone for that matter. My friendship with her didn’t surpass taking on the Big Apple and office banter. We weren’t confidantes who shared our innermost secrets. I wasn’t that type of woman. I enjoyed our time together and understood that we were two single women without children, who had discretionary time outside of work. We were from the same hometown and ironically wound up in the same metropolitan area. I was comfortable with our arrangement and appreciative for her flexibility with my ornery ways. I figured for that reason alone I could oblige her.

  “Not as long as you think.” I managed a tight smile.

  Her eyes widened in disbelief. “So, not as long as Henry.”

  I froze at his name. My throat tightened as my food threatened ascension. I couldn’t bear the memories that flashed through my mind at the mention of certain names or phrases related to my worst nightmare. I could entertain her questions, but not those types of references.

  “No, but now that you’ve mentioned it, please refrain from mentioning him or anything related to…” I cleared my throat. “…that era of my life. Ever,” I murmured.

  “Shit!” Her eyes collapsed for a few seconds before opening again. “I’m sorry, Elle. I always try to avoid talking about it. I fucked up tonight with my heated talks. I’m sorry. Really, I am.” Clarice’s eyes glossed and suddenly I felt remorseful.

  “I-It’s just that…it dispirits everything. And I don’t want that for me…or you. You have a hot and heavy night ahead of you.” I flashed a lecherous smile. “We don’t want to put a damper on your mood; we want to dampen those panties.”

  “You’re damn right, especially because I have something to prove to the youngin’,” she jeered.

  “All right,” I exhaled heartily. “Let me go relieve my bladder before I catch this cab.”

  We split that night in front of the restaurant. I headed to the market to pick up a few essentials before turning in for the night.

  After putting away the food, I checked my mail. Bills…advertisements…bills…Virginia West? I knew seeing that name could only mean one thing. I tossed it aside and stripped for the bathroom.