Less Than Perfect Circumstance (6 page)

“Right now, you’re wasting your time and mine. I don’t care where you go, or what you do while you are out there, but you need to be out this house when I get back.”

My words were sharp and bitter.

“Lyn, what are you saying?”

“I want you out, DaMarcus,” I said with clenched teeth as I slammed the door behind me.

CHAPTER EIGHT

LOVE CAN’T HIDE

Trevor

“Hi. I’m meeting Ms. Denise Kessler for lunch. Has she arrived? ”

“Yes,
sir. R
ight this way, sir. Welcome to Le Petit Poisson.”

I was led
to a table not too far
from the bar. If Denise wasn’t
a powerful executive, she certainly dressed like one. She wore a red Austin Reed Dartmouth jacket over a white collared shirt that wrapped and tied to her side, showing just enough cleavage, and a black Ellen skirt with a gentle split. She stood.

“Thank you, Andrew.”

“You’re welcome, Ms. Kessler
.”

Denise grabbed my hands and kissed me
on both cheeks.

“If I didn’t know you better, I would think you brought your personal staff to serve you.”

“Honey, e
ven if I could, you know that
’s not my style. Let’s just say
cooking is not my specialty
. S
o
,
yes, I’ve gotten to know the staff here quite well,” Denise explained.

“So you and Andrew have developed a personal relationship?”
I
teased.

“You’re full of jokes today, aren’t you?” Denise smiled and continued. “I couldn’t detect this in the message you left this morning.”

“That’s because there wasn’t any.”

“Your wine, sir,” Andrew interrupted.

“I took the liberty of ordering that for you.” Denise smiled.

“What is it?”
Iasked, my
nose inhaling the bouquet.
It had a fresh sharp
scent
.

“White Chateau d’Yquem. It’s one of our trophy wines, sir.” Andrew said, answering
my
question, which was clearly meant for Denise.

“Are you trying to
impress me?”

I looked at Andrew, directing my
question, again,
at Denise. Andrew gave me
a stern look as he excused himself.

“Be nice,” Denise demanded. “Of course I’m not trying to impress you. I’ve already bought your friendship.”

“You actually think yo
u can afford me?” I ask, reaching for my
glass of wine.

“Of course not, you high priced…”

Denise stifled her comment as she took a sip of her wine.

“What was that?”
I asked, folding
my
ear forward,
daring her to repeat.

“Nothing I wanted you to hear.  Look, you sounded like you needed some cheering up, so…”

“Ok,” Trevor interjected. “Well, yes, but that was before I got some great news.”

“What are you waiting for? Spill it!” Denise demanded.

“Remember that pitch that I had
been working on for the past month?”

“I sure do. I couldn’t get you to do anything.”

“Well, after talking to Kelvin, and then leaving that message
for you
this morning…”

“Wait! Talking to Kelvin? How’s he doing?”

Denise loved Kelvin, and obviously, the mere mention of h
is name still gets her excited. H
e had that affect on most people.

“He’s doing well. I’ll get into that later. Anyway, I got a call from Wes telling me how impressed the clients were wi
th my presentation, and…” I
paused for added effect.

“What? You’re taking too long.”

“I got the contract.”

“Are you surprise that you got it?”

Denise knew h
ow devoted I
had been.
Only fire could tear me away from it. Most of her
phone calls played second to completing t
hat project. When she thought I
needed a break, or
when I
didn’t
believe in my
own ability, Denise was a
lways there to convince
m
e.
I
worked tirelessly, putting together what turned out to be a killer presentation.

“Not surprised. I didn’t think they would make a decision after
just one presentation. T
he second one
was scheduled for today,
until they in
formed Wesley of their decision. I figured I would reward myself for my hard work.
”

“And lunch
with me is your reward?” she
questioned with a mischievous smile.
“Congratulations
, hon,” she
said excitingly.

“Thank you.
They’ve invited me to dinner on
Wednesday.”

“Re
ally!”
Denise said, smiling. She
lifted her glass to toast, and then added, “Well, since we’re here to celebrate your new acquisition, lunch is on me.”

“You mean you were planning on going Dutch?
”

I sipped my
wine for only the second time and placed it gently on the table.

“N
ot
at all
. I th
ought I heard you offered.”

We laughed,
and then sat back in silence. Uncertain where Denise had dr
ifted to, I
escaped into
his own
thoughts.

Denise and I
first met
three years ago
at her cousin, Gabrielle, and R
eese’s wedding. Reese and I
w
ere high school classmates. We
didn’t talk often, but ofte
n enough for him to remember to drop my
invitation in the mail.
I
was in South Carolina wrapping up a business deal and could only get back in time for the reception. Den
ise was one of five bridesmaids. She wore the lavender
ank
le-
length dress well. Although the other girls were as beautiful, Denise
stood out. I
wasn’t sure if it was her walk into the reception hall, her prom queen-like wave to the invited guests, or if it was her infectious smile that made her so appealing.
We
spent
the night exchanging smiles

a glance every now and then, one being extremely careful not to lead the other
on. Our
meeting blossomed into a platonic relationship
we’ve
both cherish
ed
.

Denise
and I
sat on the benches on the lawn of Prairie Vista Country Club, talking, l
aughing, and sipping white wine. Though we
had no idea what we were drinking, it
tasted good
,
even
though
we agreed
it didn
’t taste like anything we’ve
had before. Whatever it was, it must h
ave gotten the best of us
.
I was definitely enjoying Denise’s company. Whenever she got
an invitation to the dance floor from some man who
we watched dancing
like he had too left feet, or one who had obviously left his dancing shoes at home, she declined
only to later drag me
to the same dance floor with her. She was very careful not to
dance too close. I
thought there was an overly jealous boyfriend lurking among the guests, but that didn’t
explain how I
managed to get all her attention. Denise wasn’t threate
ned by the attention I
was giving to her, e
ither. Whatever the reason, we
enjoyed the unobtrusive play between a man and a very attractive woman.

“Pardon me, Monsieur, M
adame Kessler.
”
Andre
w said, interrupting
my
brief escape.
“H
ave you had a chance to look at your menus?” 

“Give us a few more minutes, please.” Denise glanced at her watch and responded. She reached in her sm
all red purse and removed her cell
phone
.
“You don’t mind
, do you?

“Girl, I don’t pay your phone
bill,
” I said, looking at her as if she had just ticked closer to crazy.

“That’s not what I mean, fool.” 

She pressed a number on her white Iphone.

“Do you mind if
I spend the rest of the afternoon with you?”
she
asked, pressing the phone against her ear. She stared across the table at me.

“You are more than welcomed to,” I
responded
.

Could my
day get any better?
I thought, and kept the smile on my face as I took another sip of win.

Denise contacted her assistant, Brandon, and asked him to clear her calendar f
or the afternoon. He was told
to transfer any calls that needed her immediate attention to her cell; otherwise, she would return all calls when she
returned to the office the next day
.
She gave him permission to
take an extende
d lunch, which meant he had the rest of the day to do whatever he wanted. I liked the way Denise treated Brandon. He was her right-hand man. Even when he was new and barely broken in, she never had a devil-wears-prada moment with him.

Denise
was a successful and talented female sports agent at Starpower Sports and Entertainment,
and her resume spoke for itself.
She
represented football players like
Neal Howard and D’AndreKadian,
French basketball standout Andres Kosavaz, and young talents like Cuban-bread PetreWascavage, a baseball player who recently signed a 6-year, multimillion-doll
ar deal with the A’s. She
represented the best athletes and entertainers in the industry, and Denise is partially responsible for the agency’s acquired reputation.
She
frequented many of the nation’s exquisite re
staurants. Le Petite Poisson had been
the
backdrop for many meetings with her clients and fran
chise representatives.

“Toni, this is Denise. I am out having lunch with Trevor. If you need to reach me, call my cell.”

Reaching Toni’s voicema
il wasn’t surprising to Denise
. A Supervisor of the Pediatric Surgery for the Residency and Medical Students program at John C. Hart Memorial Hospital, Ms. Toni Dale Hadley ma
intained a hectic schedule that
didn’t leave room for much else. Somehow, Denise and Toni managed to make their relationship work.

“Checking in with the mister?” I teased, chuckling, knowing I would have done the same, if I
had someone to check in
with
;
if I had Kelvin to check in with.

After Denise ended her message to Toni, Andrew returned to announce the chef’s special for the day. Denise declined and suggested the wrapped steamed fish and later, a Watermelon Box.

During lunch, Denise and I
were involved
in delightful conversations about work, relationships,
our
plans f
or the week, and finally, Kelvin.

“So how is Mr.
Carrington doing?” Denise asked with enthusiasm.

“He’s fine. I spoke with him this morning. He’s at a conference in New York.”

“Really! That man’s a traveling fool. I don’t know how you did it.”

“What do you mean?”

“How did you handle him being away at conferences and meetings all the time?”

“Actually,
I think
he travels more now than he did while he was here. We did just
what you and Toni are doing now.”

“What’s that?”

“We
make the best of the time that we do had together.
Stolen moments whenever and wherever we could.
”
I answered, smiling mischievously at memories I couldn’t erase even if
I
tried.

“I see. So how are you handling
him
being
gone?”

“It’s not the end of the world.”

“Hell, you acted lik
e it,
” Denise whispered, digging into her watermelon box.

“
You’re right.”

I did act like my world came crashing down when Kelvin left, as if he were my air and I couldn’t breathe without him.