North Star

by Angeline M. Bishop

  “Yes it is. Do you care to tell me the real reason you were looking for me? We both know I didn’t leave a folder behind.”

  Graham tried to think of a witty response, but only the truth came to mind. “I wanted to see you again.” He listened for a response, but when she didn’t reply, he continued. “So, how did you get my number?”

  “Ms. Mason has her ways. I hope I didn’t disturb you?”

  “No, I was sleeping, but I can do that anytime.” He became instantly wide-awake when he heard a slight laugh escape her.

  “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to make your girlfriend or wife mad.”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend or wife,” he said, noticing her fishing expedition. “What about you, ah...Sorry, I don’t know your name.”

  “And I don’t know yours.”

  “Then, we should introduce ourselves. My name is Graham Sheridan.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sheridan. My name is Caresse Aldana.”

  “Caresse. Beautiful name.”

  “Thanks. Now do you mind telling me why you want to see me?”

  Caught off guard by the repetition of her question, Graham wondered if he felt something she didn’t.

  Graham searched his memory for anything that would reveal a one-sided attraction. He could attest to the fact that she laughed when she spoke with him, but he couldn’t be sure if the feelings behind her gaze at the library lingered as deeply as his own. His mind raced. “I was wondering if you could assist me.”

  “With what?”

  “I need some information on the Mason Center. I’m an editor for Psyche, and I was thinking about doing an article on how black men can give back to their communities. The Mason Center has been brought to my attention in the past, and since you work there, I was hoping I could hear some of your insights on the people and programs.”

  Another long pause made Graham unsure if she heard him, or if she could detect the untruthfulness of his words.

  “Mr. Sheridan, you spoke to Yvette Mason tonight. Why didn’t you let her know what you were after? I can assure you, she has never turned down good media coverage.”

  The formality of her voice felt like cold water hitting his face, confirming she wanted to maintain her distance.

  One more college try wouldn’t hurt anything. “I enjoyed our brief run-in at the library today, so I decided to find out what I needed from you, unless you have a problem with that.”

  “No, of course not. Raising community awareness of the center is one of my goals.” She paused. “If you want, I can contact your office tomorrow and schedule a time to meet with you.”

  Score! “My schedule is free tomorrow afternoon. Pick a time, and we’ll discuss Mason.”

  “I’m only free tomorrow evening, if you don’t have a problem with a late meeting.”

  “Not at all. How about a dinner meeting at around six?”

  “That sounds fine. I’ll meet you at your office at five-thirty. Good night, Mr. Sheridan.”

  “Good night, Ms. Aldana.”

  And with that, they both hung up.

  Graham raised himself up on one elbow in the darkness as he placed the phone on its cradle. His mood seemed suddenly buoyant as he thought about seeing Caresse again. There was only one way to determine if the attraction was mutual, and that was to see her. By the end of tomorrow, all of his questions would be answered.

  Caresse sat in the darkness and replayed the conversation in her mind. She didn’t need some good-looking man to come into her life and start tearing down all she’d worked hard to build. I’m getting along fine as I am. She laid in the darkness listening to the soft hum of her air conditioner. She owned her own home, helped her community, raised her girls by herself, and surrounded herself with family and friends who love her dearly. I’m okay. There’s no guy bringing unneeded drama into my life. But deep down, she knew she wasn’t being honest with herself. She secretly longed for the right man to make her heart sing.

  No matter what she did, her desires tormented her at night. God plays some cruel jokes on single people. Yeah, you think you’re okay with being alone until you crawl into bed and there’s no one there to roll around with under the sheets.

  She turned over onto her stomach and embraced her satin covered pillow. It had been two years since a man had touched her, and tonight she ached for one’s embrace. She could call one of her male friends and he would be on her doorstep quickly, condoms in hand, but she didn’t like booty calls. There was something off about doing that at this stage in her life. Besides, sex for the sake of sex left her bitter and angry afterwards. She deserved better than that.

  But am I ready? The way she’d misread Mr. Sheridan’s intentions proved otherwise. Besides, she couldn’t bring anyone into the life of her children. She couldn’t put them through the pain of seeing their mother depressed due to another love choice gone wrong.

  Caresse tossed the covers off her body and stepped toward her bedroom window. The dark and cloudy sky mimicked her mood. The sky revealed much needed rain was on the way—such a welcome relief from the intense heat of the week. Water is what I need. She slipped out of her gown in the darkness and moved toward her bathroom for her second shower of the night.

  She stepped under the tepid cascade of liquid and tried to quiet her mind, but as her hands glided over her firm body, she continued to see Graham’s sexy smile. She found herself shuddering at the thought of how his lips would feel against her thighs. She laid her head against the shower wall.

  Stop it. Swallowing hard, she shut her eyes tightly, willing the images to vanish. She hated the way a complete stranger occupied her thoughts. Lusting about someone she didn’t know was asinine, impetuous, and absolutely childish.

  Why did I call him? Yvette’s suggestion to find out what he wanted seemed innocent, but now she’d agreed to meet with him. Which would be okay if he looked like a fatherly James Earl Jones so she wouldn’t keep being overtaken with lustful thoughts.

  Oh, stop acting like you’re in heat. He wants a story for his magazine, not you. She lowered herself to the shower floor and closed her eyes. Sitting next to the water-drenched wall, with her legs drawn up against her bosom, she felt an increasing sadness at the thought. A few tears began to mingle with the water’s spray as she wondered if the ache of loneliness would ever stop. She wanted a fulfilling life, without the presence of a man.

  Chapter 3

  “Mr. Sheridan’s office?” Kathy Rollins answered the first caller of the day.

  Graham tilted his head and flashed her a smile as he passed by her desk. She was the gateway to his sanity as she helped, and redirected, people wishing to speak to him. She was, in many ways, indispensable. Psyche was an innovative, yet informative, magazine on the issues facing black men. And since his personal stamp was seen on each issue, Kathy had her hands full with people trying to find ways to pitch their ideas, advertisements, and articles to the top man himself. The ringing phone was so implanted to Kathy’s ear that she’d given up answering it the old-fashioned way. Instead, she utilized the kind of headsets the brokers used as she typed, filed, and completed other office duties.

  “What is this concerning?”

  Graham listened as she gathered items for their routine morning meeting.

  A frown creased Kathy’s brow. “If you can’t tell me what this is in reference to, I can assure you he won’t be interested. Care to change your mind?”

  There was a long silence, then she said, “Oh, I see. Mr. Sheridan has designated our lifestyle editor, Thomas Wade, to handle such matters. One moment please, I’ll transfer you.”

  Graham’s mouth twitched with amusement as he headed into his office. Kathy kept everything running smoothly. He couldn’t imagine what he’d do without her. A few minutes later, she entered his office. “Ready to see me?”

  He looked up at the petite, Irish woman with short, curly, auburn hair and compassionate hazel-green eyes who had been at his side for three years. He didn�
�t know on the day he met her that she would become so invaluable. Out of all of the applicants, she was the oldest, at age forty-seven, but she knew how to run an office. And the thing he liked most, besides her blueberry muffins on Friday mornings, was that she knew how to anticipate his needs before he could express them.

  “Come in, Kathy. What does today and next week look like?” He got up from his desk and brought a box of her favorite pastries to the conference table where she had set out coffee and a printout of his appointment calendar.

  “Ooh, you spoil me,” she squealed as she lifted a napkin and selected up a lemon-filled pastry.

  “And I’ll continue to do so if it means you’ll keep slaying the hyenas that call this office,” he stated as he handed her a napkin before returning to his chair.

  “You know I have your back, Simba,” she said feistily. They both let out a hardy laugh and shared a knowing grin before succumbing to the agenda at hand. “Your morning is very open today, so you can spend most of your time checking the work of the advertising department. You have a lunch meeting with Laila and Gray about the list of contributing writers of next month’s issue. And, from the looks of things, you should be able to get out of here by five to make it to your dinner engagement.”

  Intense astonishment touched Graham’s face when his eyes met Kathy’s. “How did you know I’m having dinner with someone tonight?”

  “Your sister called days ago and made me add it to your schedule so you wouldn’t have a reason to cancel.”

  “Aw, Kathy. That is tonight, isn’t it?”

  “Why do I have the funny feeling we’re not talking about the same thing? You didn’t make another dinner meeting without consulting with me, did you?”

  Graham moaned and pushed himself away from the desk. There was no way he could break the date with Caresse. He had to know if he had imagined her attraction to him. After a long night of analysis, the way she laughed, smiled, and gazed at him, he was convinced she felt something between them. And if she did, he had to know why she’d acted differently on the telephone. Maybe she has a man, he thought. The mere belief made him bolt from his seat and tighten his already clenched fists.

  “Okay, okay, calm down.” Kathy rose from her chair. “We can fix this. Tell me who the meeting was with, and I’ll reschedule it.”

  “No. Don’t!” he shouted, causing Kathy to glare at him. Graham walked over to his window, brooding as he examined the cloudy sky.

  After a few moments, Kathy’s empathetic voice sliced the silence and interrupted his thoughts. “She must have made quite an impression on you, for you not to want to reschedule,” she said knowingly as she joined him.

  “She did, Kat. But I can’t let Janet down. She’s been cooking all day and night in preparation for this dinner.”

  “Then let’s sit down. I’m sure we can come up with an amicable solution.” She beamed as she tugged on his arm. “C’mon, I can’t perform this miracle by myself.”

  He searched her maternal eyes and hoped Kathy could make this a win-win situation for all.

  Caresse stood over the filing cabinet in a pink silk blouse, a knee-length black pencil skirt, with her hair swept up in an elegant French chignon. She loved Fridays because everyone seemed to fly through their work as they tried to get closer to their weekend of summer fun at the shore. Ms. Rogers’ office was relatively quiet due to her sudden departure for a much needed vacation, and the soft sounds of the WBLS radio station poured into Caresse’s workspace.

  Suddenly, a ringing phone cut into Mary J. Blige’s emotionally charged vocals. Caresee picked up the phone. “Ms. Rogers’ office, Caresse speaking. How may I help you?”

  “Caresse, dear, I’m so glad to see you’re in the office early today.” Ms. Rogers yawned into the phone. “You aren’t trying to take my job from me, are you?”

  “Of course not, Ms. Rogers. I’m making sure everyone knows you’re still accessible.”

  “Good. Good. Now, the reason I’m calling is to report a change in my suite number. I’m stay in the Presidential Suite 5101 at the Four Seasons. If anyone in my family calls looking for me, say nothing. I need a break, not a bunch of relatives blowing up my phone lines with their crap.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. Your location is safe with me.

  “Good. Enjoy these pressure-free weeks, Caresse,” she demanded, making her voice raise an octave. “I don’t want one of my best assets burning out on me.”

  “I will try, just not on your time.”

  Caresse rolled her eyes because she knew her boss didn’t believe anyone was more of an asset to the firm than her.

  “That’s right and don’t forget, whether I’m in the office or not, be concise, and don’t believe anyone’s sob story if they can’t make my deadlines. Damnit, I need to go. My breakfast has arrived.”

  Caresse heard the disconnection right as she started to say goodbye.

  Most people would become unnerved by Ms. Rogers’ abruptness, but she’d learned long ago that her bark was worse than her bite. As the head partner, she enjoyed intimidating her staff in order to keep everyone alert. She was a proud pupil of the Anna Wintour, School of Decisive Management with a double major in commanding minions and frightening slackers. So her vacation was nothing more than a self-imposed exile to strategize her next steps to combat the other partners’ attempts to curb her antics.

  No sooner had Caresse returned to filing did the telephone ring again. She took a deep breath and answered cheerily, “Ms. Rogers’ office, Caresse speaking. How may I help you?”

  “You can tell me what sexy things he whispered in your ear last night,” Yvette joked before she yawned into the receiver. Caresse knew she was probably still in bed watching the Today Show with her white Persian cat named Cleo.

  “You’re too much.” Caresse’s features became more animated as she began to doodle on a post-it pad near her phone. It was typical for Yvette to call first thing in the morning if there was an opportunity to play matchmaker to the lovelorn. “What makes you think I would tell you the sweet nothings anyone would whisper in my ear?”

  “Girl, don’t play coy. It’s too early in the morning for that crap. What happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Carè?”

  “Really, nothing. He wanted to talk about a tentative article for his magazine. He wants to publish a piece on the Mason Center.” The moment she said the words, she could envision the status change on Yvette’s Facebook wall.

  “Nice. What’s the name of the publication?”

  “Psyche.”

  Yvette screamed in delight. “Get out! Is it really Psyche? Are you kidding me?”

  “No.”

  “Well? What did you tell him?”

  “I’m having a dinner meeting with him tonight so I can give him the scoop on why black men should volunteer at Mason.”

  “Ooh, do you know what this means? This couldn’t have come at a better time. If he publishes something before the Mason Ball, it could double our turnout. Do you hear me? Double it! You have to make sure this happens, Carè. Do you hear me?”

  Caresse heard her friend’s words, but she had to admit she didn’t like them. She didn’t like the idea of convincing a man to do anything for her. “Yes, I hear you. I’ll take care of it. Can you fax me the center’s program information at noon?”

  “You got it, kiddo. Anything for the cause.”

  At his lunch meeting, Graham toyed with his lamb chop as he listened to his younger sister, Laila Sheridan, and Gray Ryley pitch another Malcolm Khalid article. It would make it Khalid’s third article for the magazine this year. The idea of reading one word from that arrogant writer made Graham dream of creating a medieval torture device to be rid of him completely.

  Graham applauded Laila and Gray’s determination to hard-sell the controversial writer, but after Malcolm’s scathing radio interview following his last Psyche piece, there was nothing left say. No one could call his magazine a ‘little periodical that lacks soci
al vision’ and expect to get the red carpet rolled out for him. That hot-head wasn’t good for business, and Graham had no desire to pretend that he was.

  “No, guys, I can’t ignore other talented writers because you have a personal preference for the chronicles of an angry black man,” Graham said as he shook his head and glanced at his watch.

  “Graham, give him a chance,” Laila said, creasing her brow before he could elaborate. “You must admit the article he wrote goes right to the heart of the black man’s plight in America. We’d be remiss if we didn’t grab this essay before anyone else does.” She sighed and began pushing her lunch around her plate.

  It wasn’t like her to pick over a meal at her favorite restaurant. Graham could tell by her minimal makeup and unmanicured fingernails that his little sister was having a tough week. Her appearance troubled him. It was a rare occurrence for Laila to be seen in this manner.

  Maybe a trip to the spa was needed for her to recharge, he thought. But she had to leave Khalid behind. He made a mental note to make sure Kathy arranged something fast.

  “Have you two forgotten that I already have the Injustices column in Psyche, where the prevalent issues concerning the black man’s struggle are showcased? I can’t feature Mr. Khalid’s voice anymore. My answer remains the same. I won’t publish Khalid’s work again, or even consider it for another year.”

  “Why are you being so pig-headed, Graham? He’ll give this essay to someone else. Is that what you want?” she pleaded.

  “Then let him. I refuse to help everyone you decide to sleep with.”

  Laila’s eyes narrowed and her back became ramrod straight. “Who told you that?” Her eyes darted to Gray, then back to Graham in frustration.

  It hadn’t taken a genius to discover Laila was sleeping with Malcolm. Everyone could tell by the way he greeted her in the office. Moreover, she recently took a vacation to his family’s home in Columbia, North Carolina, so staff suspicions were validated.