Her Last Chance

by Stephanie Belafonte

  “Again, it’s your choice. What I’ve learned over the years is to encourage that up front, give you ladies time to get your feet wet. Eventually, when that money is dangling in front of your faces, you all give in; before you know it, you’re rubbing peach pie on a senator’s chest with one hand and pinching his nipples with the other.”

  I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing so hard I thought my chest would collapse. It felt so good, and I hadn’t laughed that hard in so long. I understood that it wasn’t Roman’s intent, but the sheer ridiculousness of the idea, and the situation, was more than I could bear. “Tell me that didn’t really happen.”

  He hadn’t expected my laughter—the surprise and confusion showed in his furrowed brow and squinting eyes. To him, the story was just another day at the office. It took a second or two, but he eventually laughed with me.

  At that point, my anger at him had dwindled to a glimmer, and the warm, hearty laugh that came from his throat shoved the rest of it away. When he managed to stop long enough to catch is breath, he said, “We never kiss and tell here, but…the next time you see Grady Wilson on CNN, I hope you’re not eating pie for dessert.”

  It set us off again and we laughed until neither of us could breathe.

  The tension—in all forms—had left the office and we sat, shaking our heads and rubbing the tears from our eyes. As attracted to him as I was, I’d given up on the idea of anything happening between us. Business partners, or boss and employee, that’s all, but the moment was a real one and seemed so wonderfully right. We could’ve been good together.

  Roman got out of his comfortable chair and walked around the desk, moving in front of me. He leaned back, crossed his arms and said, “Thank you. I haven’t laughed like that in a while.”

  “Neither have I.”

  “So what do you think? Are you the newest Midnight Fantasy superstar?”

  I stood, holding the contract in my hands, staring at it, then at him. “I need some time to think about it.” I expected him to launch into another rambling tirade about money and opportunities, time and expectations, but it didn’t happen.

  He simply said, “Understandable. Take a day to think about it. If you’re not here by eleven tomorrow morning, consider the window closed, okay?”

  “You may see me again, you may not.” I winked at him.

  Then he kissed my cheek, but it was only a sign of affection. A small blink of desire flickered somewhere inside me, then it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

  He knew he would. And I did, too.

  ***

  I walked into my apartment, undressed, and flopped onto the couch, wearing nothing but my underwear, too exhausted to get up and put on some clothes. I had to go pick up Joey from Dreama’s house soon. When I’d called from the car, telling her I’d be there in a bit, she’d asked how the interview went and for a moment, I had panicked, thinking she knew where I’d been. Thankfully, I recalled lying to her about the fake interview with the software company. I lied again and told her it went well, though I wasn’t getting my hopes up.

  “I hope it works out,” she’d said. “We’re rooting for you. But listen, if you can come by in an hour to pick up Joey, that’d be great, because I have some errands to run.”

  And that was it. A couple banal lines of encouragement, laced with a hint of thinking she’d be let down, once again.

  I rolled onto my side and picked up one of Joey’s toys, twisting it around in my fingers, but looking past it into our tiny studio apartment; I officially realized how wretched our little space was. The carpet had a number of unidentifiable stains that were there long before we moved in—so disgustingly dirty that I had to put a blanket down before I’d let him play on the floor. The white paint had faded, taking on a dingy hue. The refrigerator clunked and banged, roaring like a jet engine whenever it turned on to cool down the inside. No matter how hard I scrubbed, I could never get the ancient stove clean. I counted four broken tiles on the kitchen floor. Joey’s thrift store bed was falling apart in one corner and my single mattress lay in another. I was too broke to afford railings and a box spring.

  I was tired. So tired.

  Physically exhausted and mentally fed up with never having enough and never being good enough for Dreama.

  That last one didn’t matter. I’d resigned long ago to the fact that I’d never live up to whatever it was she required of her ne’er-do-well daughter, yet it still put a strain on me, having to listen to the near-constant admonishment.

  I hadn’t reached full-blown desperation, but I saw no other way out. Unless we moved. Could we move to a different city, maybe down to San Francisco or L.A. where there might be more jobs? What if Joey and I packed up and moved across the country to Atlanta, or down to Dallas? We would be far, far away from her criticisms and disappointed verbal barbs.

  The thought lifted my hopes and spirits, but only for a minute or two. I would have to find a job first, and in such a pitiful, shrinking economy who knew how long that could take? Weeks? Months? A year or more? I couldn’t risk it.

  There was always Dreama’s offer to help—we could move in with her and Dad for a while—but I’d never hear the end of it. I didn’t have the energy to endure her fluttering about, hovering over me all the time.

  I came to the conclusion that I didn’t have the time, the money, or the energy to say no to Roman and his offer.

  Desperation won.

  CHAPTER NINE

  At nine the next morning, two hours until my deadline with Roman, I called my best friend, Michelle, and asked if she could come by.

  “I hate to ask, but I have an errand to run,” I said. “Any chance you could come sit with Joey for a little bit?”

  “Sure, Kimmikins. I’ll be over in a few. Got a hot date? You know we’re hoping you’ll give Pete another chance, right?”

  “A date? Seriously? It’s nine o’clock.”

  “Could be a coffee date. I’ve heard Pete likes coffee.”

  “The guy smells like dirty cat litter. No way.”

  Michelle and her husband Aaron had been trying to set me up with Pete for months, after Finn had disappeared and left me depressed and covered in ice cream. I don’t know what it said about their opinions of my taste in men, or if they really thought I was hopeless enough to go out with someone like him. I didn’t mean to be rude, or petty, but Pete was one of those guys. Horrible cologne that smelled like cat pee. Thought he was God’s gift to women. Tried too hard. Not a chance, Michelle, sorry.

  When she knocked on my door, I already had Joey down for his morning nap. I let her in and put my finger up to my lips. “Ssshh. If you stay quiet enough, you can just sit here and read or something. I’ll probably be back before he wakes up.”

  Normally, Joey slept like the dead, but lately he’d gotten into the habit of waking up at the strangest, and quietest, noises. I could have the hair dryer going, the refrigerator preparing for takeoff, the television at full volume and he wouldn’t even move. But the moment I put a spoon in the sink, the subtle clink of metal on metal would wake him and send the little guy into a volley of screams and wails.

  Michelle was constantly chewing gum—loudly and with purpose—like she was mad at it or trying to teach it a lesson. I was certain it would be the kind of noise that would launch my son into the stratosphere, straight from his bed, screaming all the way into orbit, and ensure that she’d never babysit again. Not a good thing, since I’d decided to accept Roman’s proposal.

  Actually, Michelle would’ve been a perfect candidate for Roman, too. At least when it came to the looks. She didn’t have the professional pedigree he required, but her job, at least the way she saw it, was to keep her body in mind-blowing shape. Aaron encouraged it; he was doing so well in real estate that they could afford to live on a single income, so Michelle spent most of her waking hours toning this body part and that body part.

  Plus, she was also amazingly put togethe
r, no matter where she went or why.

  Grocery store in six-inch stilettos? Sure, why not?

  A fresh application of makeup before the gym? Made sense to her.

  I loved her like a sister and we’d known each other since we were babies, but on some level, you couldn’t have found two peas in the same pod that were so completely different. It was almost like opening the pod and finding a pea and a piece of corn.

  Michelle wore yoga pants, a tight-fitting top that put her newly done boobs on display (a first anniversary gift from Aaron last year—her choice, not his), and flip-flops. Tame by her standards, but even when she dressed down, she looked dressed up. “So where are you going?” she whispered.

  “It’s none of your business.” I grinned and gave her a quick peck-on-the-cheek hello.

  “Since when is anything in your life none of my business? Tell me.”

  “Not right now, okay? I need to hurry. We’ll talk about it later.”

  And what I meant by that was, never. She wouldn’t understand. Or maybe she would, but she wouldn’t approve and I wouldn’t hear the end of it. And I could just see her going to Dreama. The two of them had better compatibility than I did with my own mother, and I often thought that Michelle was the youngest daughter that Dreama never had. Maybe it should’ve put a bad taste in my mouth, but I made up my mind a long time ago that it wouldn’t drive a wedge between me and the only person I could truly confide in.

  Yet there I was, getting ready to lie my ass off if she pressed for more.

  She stared at me, trying to decide whether or not it was worth the effort, and then sighed. “All right. But don’t take too long, because these thighs won’t tone themselves.”

  As beautiful and ridiculously flawless as she was, Michelle was borderline obsessed—no, not borderline…completely obsessed—with trying to make her body perfect. I had never figured out where the obsession came from. Aaron drooled at the sight of her, and so did everyone else—men and women included. Perhaps she’d been the one to fall victim to Dreama’s idea of image, rather than me. Michelle had been around her enough growing up, so it was entirely possible.

  I said, “You know you’re insane, right?”

  “Hush, you.” She hugged me and patted my back.

  “Thanks for doing this.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m happy to help. Now go do whatever naughtiness you’re up to so I can go pinch some baby fat.” She looked over at Joey with a mixture of glee and fake-evil intent, pinching at the air with her fingers.

  Naughtiness. She didn’t know how appropriate the word was.

  She tiptoed across the room and hovered over Joey’s bed, admiring him. Michelle and Aaron didn’t have children of their own. They’d been high school sweethearts, married during college, and had spent the past year, since right after graduation, trying to get pregnant. Trying so much that Aaron had jokingly complained about friction burn. For the time being, any chance she had to get her hands on Joey was a worthy consolation prize.

  She was twenty-one going on thirty-five, so maturity wasn’t a problem, but I don’t think she understood just how much work was involved with a baby. Maybe it would be different for them, with an extra parent for backup, but I’d never known the luxury.

  Besides, the things a pregnancy would do to that sculpted physique would horrify her.

  Anyway, enough about Michelle. I had bigger things to worry about.

  I gave her some instructions in case he woke up, said goodbye, and then walked out to my car. Thinking ahead, I’d left a dressier change of clothes in it before she arrived, because I knew I’d never make it out of the apartment without being bombarded by so many questions I didn’t want to answer.

  I drove down a couple of blocks to the nearest gas station and did a quick change in the restroom, careful not to let my clothes or bare feet touch the floor as I slipped into a pair of heels. I wasn’t as spectacular as the day before, but no way was I going to commit the faux pas of wearing the same dress twice.

  Roman wouldn’t approve.

  I had on a white, button-down top and a charcoal gray pencil skirt, and my hair up in a tight bun, along with my glasses that I rarely ever wore. I looked like a lawyer, or a librarian, all uptight and conventional, but I wanted to give an impression of, “Can you guess what’s underneath?” You know, like in one of those shampoo commercials where the pretty, conservative looking girl lets her hair down and she’s instantly a goddess.

  Lipstick, a dash of eye shadow, and off I went.

  But not without a serious case of butterflies. My stomach did back flips on the way—every stoplight was another chance to reconsider.

  Eventually, the tide of doubt gave up, and I drove to the Midnight Fantasy office without turning around and speeding home, hell bent on getting as far away as possible.

  Alice smiled warmly at me when I walked through the door. Without saying a word, she practically skipped around the front desk, looking like she was proud of me in that grandmotherly way. She hugged me like we were longtime friends.

  “Hi, Alice.”

  “You came back.”

  “Yeah. I mean, yes.”

  “Of course you did.”

  I had trouble grasping the idea that this sweet old woman would be proud of me. I mean, I had a contract in my hand, which said I would potentially be selling my body for ridiculous sums of money. But I hadn’t signed it yet. I still had some questions. “Is he waiting for me?”

  She nodded. “He asked me to keep his calendar open all morning, honey. All for you, just in case.”

  “Really?”

  “I’ve never seen him do it before. You must’ve really impressed him yesterday.”

  “Huh. Maybe so.” I’d left with the notion that I’d made a fool of myself. I guess we never really do understand what people think of us. We spend so much time worrying about the impression we made, when in reality, they’re probably thinking about what to cook for dinner instead. And in Roman’s case, if I actually had made a fool of myself, he might’ve been too blinded by dollar signs to care. I was a commodity to him.

  “There’s no maybe about it. You should’ve seen his face when you left yesterday.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I bit my lip instead.

  Alice flicked her chin toward Roman’s office, grinning. “Go on. He’s expecting you.”

  I thanked her and took yet another walk down the hallway. The day before it had seemed like it was miles away and took me forever, but this time I felt like it took three steps and I was there, swallowing hard, allowing my last-second reservations another chance to say no.

  It didn’t happen.

  There were no other options, at least none that I could accept.

  When I lifted my hand to knock, it weighed a thousand pounds and each rap on the door sounded like thunder inside my head.

  This time, there was no pause. I heard a muffled, “Enter,” and then walked inside.

  My heartbeat raced. I couldn’t breathe. I was close to fainting.

  That is, until I saw Roman again.

  I don’t know why, but the sight of him was enough to calm my nerves.

  Had I been able to predict the future, it should’ve done exactly the opposite.

  The suit was gone, and instead, he greeted me wearing a faded red t-shirt, stretched tight against the muscles of his chest and biceps, and a pair of jeans that were ripped at the knees. He was barefoot, too, and even his damn toes were sexy. His smile was just as disarming as it had been twenty-four hours ago.

  He stuck out a hand to shake. I took it, squeezed lightly, and said, “I wasn’t aware that it was Casual Wednesday.” It might’ve been a risky joke—I had no idea what his sense of humor was really like at the time—but I had to walk in with control. I had to let him know that it was my room.

  “Funny,” he said. “I’m painting my master bedroom this afternoon and didn’t feel like getting dressed up.”

  Master bedroom, huh? Need some help?
/>   I shrugged, pretending to be disinterested.

  “You look fantastic, Kim. Stunning, really.”

  I lied and said, “It doesn’t take much.” Yet in his eyes, maybe it was true. I’d dressed quickly and put on a dash of makeup in a gas station restroom. If he thought I looked stunning after that, then who was I to disagree?

  Even if it was total bullshit and he said the same thing to every woman who walked through his door, I didn’t care. Some would say I should’ve been smart enough to know better.

  In hindsight, some would be right.

  He crossed his arms. I wanted them wrapped around me so badly that I could actually feel what the embrace would be like.

  Strong. Soothing. Electrifying.

  My legs quivered.

  When he reached for the contract, I briefly snapped back to reality. And what in the hell was I doing, allowing the moment to sweep me away like that again?

  Damn it, Kim. Control yourself.

  Hadn’t I just decided the day before that nothing would ever happen between us?

  After all, Roman didn’t get involved with the help.

  He said, “So, you’ve decided?”

  I nodded, holding out the contract, and when he reached for it, I let go.

  I let go of the control.

  I took two quick steps and pressed my lips against his.

  CHAPTER TEN

  He wrapped an arm around my waist, put a hand on the back of my head, and pulled me deeper into the kiss.

  Thank God, I thought. I flung the contract across the room and somehow heard the pages rustling in the air over our heavy breathing, over the sounds of our desire. Roman tugged at my shirt and lifted it off my body and I melted at the feeling of his hands on my skin as they slid down to my waist, pulling at my skirt until it dropped to the floor along with my panties.

  With my bra gone now too, tossed onto his desk, once again I stood in front of him, nude, wearing nothing but high heels and a look of lust. I reached up to let my hair down, but Roman said, “Leave it,” and then stepped back. He devoured me with his eyes, allowing his hungry gaze to slip over every inch of my body. “Even better than yesterday.”