Microsoft Word - FinalBB.doc

by Taras Ford

Exhaling a deep breath, she reached over to her nightstand and grabbed her phone.

  “Adams,” said the voice on the other end.

  “Hi,” she said softly.

  Nolen fell silent for a moment, and then he spoke with uncertainty. “Yes, who is this?”

  “It’s Sydney. Sorry if it’s late.”

  “This is a surprise.”

  “Why? You were so confident that I’d call.”

  “My confidence hasn’t gotten me very far, has it?”

  She laughed lightly. “I guess not.”

  “So I assume that you’re taking me up on dinner?”

  Twirling the cord between her fingers, she thought about it. “Yes, actually, I am. I figured the sooner I get this over with, the sooner we can move on to a good working relationship.”

  “Yes, let’s get it over with.”

  “Shall we do this tomorrow around seven?”

  “Do what? You haven’t told me where we’re going.”

  Sydney smirked. “That information will only be revealed to your driver. Oh, and bring an extra pair of thick socks.”

  “Socks?”

  Sydney laughed. “Good night.”

  “I look forward to it, Sydney.”

  “Me too,” she said, then hung up.

  Staring at his business card, she thought about what she’d told Trish. He did listen to her, and it felt good to be more than Sydney in someone’s eyes. She would teach this Wall Street golden boy how to go out on a date. Smiling, she tossed the card to the side and picked up her packet. The future looked bright.

  Chapter 6

  The Date

  From the back of the limo he scanned the contents of the folder. En route to the Scott Harris’s office, Nolen was pleased over his chance to resume control. Annemarie had uncovered the name and address of the Chief Operating Officer at Hollister’s secret love. After some convincing, the transsexual had agreed to give up all she knew for a small fee. One leak to the press and it was game over.

  “Her name is Serena. She says that Harris has some particular tastes. She’s itching to tell that story,” Annemarie said as he closed the folder.

  “That may not be necessary. The board is considering taking Hollister public. If my company is chosen to manage their investment portfolio everything will go as planned. We just need to be more convincing. Well done, Annemarie.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The limo pulled up to the curb of a tall skyscraper in the heart of Manhattan. Nolen and Annemarie got out to a small press crowd gathered for some protesters angered by the capitalist greed of corporate companies like Hollister. Their presence was a clear reminder of the media melee that would ensue if the C.O.O.’s little time bomb exploded in the city’s face. It was the kind of attention Nolen also wanted to avoid, which meant the stakes were even higher. His firm was legit to all that mattered, especially the SEC. He intended to keep it this way. Nolen strolled through the building’s doors with squared shoulders; confident that he was the one dealt the winning hand.

  Annemarie hurried at his side. She reminded him of the board members’ names who needed convincing versus those that were already on their side. To Nolen she was the most loyal person in his life, but even he tired of her cool detachment. She’s almost robotic in how she ran his business.

  He half-listened, he thought about how stiff and orderly his life had become. As a kid, he and his father thrived on chaos. His mother chose to remain willfully blind to it all. Now Nolen craved order. It kept him focused, less willing to take risks. The stumbles he made earlier in life and love he blamed his mother. Sure she did better with his kid brother, but she never truly fought for him to remain a child. Considering all that Nolen had done before his father’s convenient death and his mother’s remarriage he should not be who he was today.

  At the security line, Nolen watched a man being searched. After 9-11 many buildings required a full screening of visitors. There was a federal bank on the second level of this one that made it a necessity. The short, pudgy gentleman stepped out of his shoes, believing they were hindering his passage. Nolen’s thoughts turned to his evening plans instead of the routine search. The man’s bare feet reminded him of Sydney’s request that he wear socks for their date, and he frowned at the strange request.

  “Sir?” Annemarie asked.

  He looked up and realized his assistant and the guard waited. He stepped through the metal detector and continued to the elevator. When they arrived at the correct floor, someone from the executive office greeted them. Nolen vaguely remembered the woman from a prior meeting. “Mr. Adams?” she asked. “Hello, we’ve been expecting you.”

  Nolen gave her a nod. “Scott Harris?”

  “He’s waiting for you with the board of directors in the conference room if you will please follow––” Nolen didn’t move. “I’ll need to meet with Harris first, alone,” he said.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Nolen gave her a thin-lipped smirk. “Tell him I have a message from Serena. He may want to hear it in private.”

  The woman’s glasses slipped down her nose, and her eyes lifted just above the rim. “I . . . well, um, excuse me.”

  She walked off, looking back twice. Nolen watched her go through the glass doors where several of the directors and board members congregated. She whispered in Scott Harris’s ear. He looked up at Nolen and his face paled. Nolen gave him a curt nod, which prompted Harris to rise, excuse himself, and slip out of the conference room.

  “Adams! Glad to see you,” he said with a forced smile. “Let’s talk in my office.”

  “Yes, let’s.”

  Sydney dropped the plate in front of the scruffy sanitation worker. She tried to ignore the grease and dirt caked around his fingernails.

  “Thanks, sunshine,” he said, grinning from under his workman’s cap.

  “Let me know if you need anything else,” she said, passing him additional napkins, hoping he’d use one.

  She patted his shoulder and turned away. Before heading to the next table, she looked up to see Ricky walk in.

  Dressed in jeans and his black motorcycle jacket, he looked around in search of her. From the corner of her eye she spotted Carla coming down the aisle with food.

  “Can you cover for me while I take fifteen?” Sydney asked.

  “Yeah, go ahead. I got it,” Carla said and shrugged.

  Sydney navigated around the eating customers, capturing his eyes with hers. “Hey, you, what you doing here? Can’t be the food.”

  Ricky gave her a sly smile. “Came to see you, love, since you won’t return my calls.”

  “Come with me,” she said, nodding for him to follow her. She led him to a semi-private booth in the corner, out of her manager’s view. Sliding inside, he snuggled up beside her. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. I shouldn’t have treated you that way. I’m a bloody idiot.”

  “It’s ok, really. I’m glad you came. We need to talk.”

  Ricky smelled of Kemi-Oyl and leather. He had a powerful presence, and even she couldn’t deny the physical attraction between them. But for months there had been something missing. He looked into her eyes and gave her that boyish smile that had seduced many before her, according to Portia.

  “Speak your mind,” he said, touching her hair.

  Sydney turned in the booth, putting her back closer to the wall so that she could face him. “I like you a lot, Ricky. I really do, and I love our friendship. I mean I’ve always loved being with you.”

  “I don’t like the sound of this,” he said, drawing back. She reached and touched his hand. “Hey, listen to me,” she said. “You know you deserve somebody that can give you more than what we have. Sometimes I think I take advantage of your feelings for me.”

  “Why would you say that? Why would you think it? Is this about the other night?”

  “No. Well yes and no. It’s about us. I can only think about what I need right now. The rehearsals are going to be grueling the next couple of months,
and we have this choreographer that’s more of a dictator than an instructor. She has it in for me. I can’t give you the love and attention that you’ve shared so freely with me.

  C’mon, Ricky, to be honest I haven’t, even before now, and we both know that’s not what you want.”

  “Yo, that’s bullshit, Sydney. Have I ever asked you for more? We’ve seen each other for months now and I haven’t pressured you for sex. Something else is up. Tell me.” Sydney heaved a thoughtful sigh. “Ricky.”

  “I’m serious, baby girl. You know how I feel about you. Tell me what it is.”

  “I’m going out on a date with someone tonight.”

  Ricky’s brows drew together in an agonized expression. A muscle flicked angrily in his jaw. Raw hurt glittered in his dark eyes. “You’re what?”

  “I’m trying to be honest with you. I’ve always been honest. It’s what our friendship is based on. Honesty, right?”

  “Wait . . . wait . . . who is this fool?”

  “It doesn’t matter, because I’m not going out with him to make you jealous.”

  “Damnit, Sydney!” She pulled back and stared at him. Ricky hit his head against the booth, then wiped his hand down his face. “Why?”

  “Why not? I’ve spent so much time doing what’s expected of me. You guys try to shield me too much, and I appreciate it. I do. But I’m tired of it.”

  “You aren’t making any sense, love. Here you say that you’re trying to focus on your big break and you can’t focus on my feelings for you, feelings that just the other week you said you were beginning to share. Now you’re going out with another man? You talk about wanting to be in control, but to me it’s like you’re just as confused as always.”

  “Maybe I am confused, maybe it’s because the people that claim to be my friends spend more time criticizing me than supporting me! All my life I’ve done as I was told. Back in Carolina I couldn’t stop to tie my shoe without asking for permission. And here? Here I was thinking New York would be different, that I’m free and clear in the big city, but you and Portia act like I might walk into a wall without your instruction.”

  “What about what happened the last time you went off without instruction?” he shot back.

  “Don’t go there. That happened when I first arrived in New York, and I swear, Ricky, if you throw it up in my face one more time––”

  Ricky looked down. “Damn, baby girl, don’t you understand? I care for you, ever since the first time you walked into the club. I know you have the potential to be a star, and I want that for you. But men like Mendoza come in different packages. I just don’t want you to lose what makes you so special, love.” Sydney sighed, “I’m not special, Ricky! I’m just like everybody else. You treat me like I’m some porcelain doll.”

  “What the hell is wrong with that? You’re my lady.”

  “I’m not!” she said, hitting her hand on the top of the table. A few patrons turned to look back. Sydney bit down on her bottom lip. “I’m not in love with you.”

  She said the words she’d been holding back from him as well as herself, and finally felt relief. But when she looked up into his eyes and saw how she’d hurt him, she felt like a fool. Ricky was genuine, and here she was chasing a dream while fantasizing over a date with a guy way out of her league. Her father said she was foolish hearted. It was what he predicted would be her downfall. He’d called her a dreamer, and now she had to wonder if pushing Ricky away proved him right.

  “It’s ok, baby girl. That’s no mystery to me.”

  “I do care about you, Ricky, you know I do.”

  “Come here.” Ricky pulled her closer as if to inhale the combined smell of soap and bacon on her skin.

  She looked up into his face and he kissed her. It was a soft kiss of surrender. She felt as if he was releasing her, in his way, enough to give her space. Finally breaking from the kiss, she teared up.

  “Trust me. I’m a big girl. Just give me a little space, ok? Let me work things out my way. I’ll be fine.”

  “If I do this and I support you, can I get another shot?”

  “I don’t know what I want, Ricky. You’re right about that. I just need a little time to do things my way.”

  “Home is in my arms, love. You’ll see that soon.” He kissed her forehead and slid out of the booth, extending his hand to help her out. “Come to the club tomorrow night. We’ve got open mic, and I’d love to hear you sing. Maybe we can do a set together, or is that off limits?”

  “Sounds cool. I’ll come.” Sydney gave him one last hug. When they parted she watched as he walked away. A mixture of relief and regret cooled the blood in her veins. Ricky was a great guy, just not her guy. She wasn’t even sure that she knew who she was. More importantly, she just wanted a chance to just be.

  “Lies! They’re all lies!” Harris seethed.

  Nolen quirked his brow and met the councilman’s accusing eyes with an icy glare of his own. “Really?”

  “This is something you set up! This isn’t me!”

  “The camera doesn’t lie. And neither does Serena, I’m told.”

  “You won’t get away with blackmailing me! You have just as much to lose! Or do you want the SEC to find out about insider information you’ve offered us on Delstar?” The tension in Nolen’s jaw betrayed his attempts to remain calm. “You give me my vote, or I’ll roll the dice and have this on the five o’clock news.”

  A knock at the door broke the silent standoff. Harris stiffened as the president of Hollister, Tucker Gillian, entered. Both men rose. “Mr. Adams, I was told you were here,” Tucker said, he stepped close and extended his hand.

  Nolen shook it. “How are you, Tucker?”

  “Fine. Everyone’s anxious to hear your proposal.” He looked over to Harris, puzzled over the closed-door meeting.

  Harris walked around his desk. The folder of incriminating pictures lay open and he reached over to close it with a quick toss of his hand. “Tucker, we were just tying up some things. Adams and I will join you now. Has the board convened?”

  “In a moment, it’s why I came to check in on you.” Tucker eyes cut between the men with a critical stare.

  “Let’s get to business, I’m short on time this morning.” He gave a nod to Nolen before he left.

  Harris immediately turned toward Nolen. In a hushed desperate tone, he said, “It’s out of my hands.

  Your proposal is with the others. They will meet and vote. You’re being completely unreasonable by showing up here thinking you could bully me into giving you your way. Tucker thinks you’re too young and arrogant. He’s not completely sold on taking Hollister public.”

  Nolen’s lips twisted into a cynical smile. “Not my problem.”

  “You asshole!” Harris grabbed Nolen’s arm. Nolen looked down at Harris’ hand and then back to his eyes. “You expect me to get in bed with you, for what? Nothing? My life and freedom are on the line if anyone found out I sold my vote. I want something out of the deal for myself.” Nolen snatched his arm free. “If you want to keep your position as C.O.O. of one of the largest Textile companies in the world, and that pretty wife and three kids, you’ll vote my way. And yes, you will be compensated.”

  “How much? A large transaction between us would be easily detected. It’s professional suicide for us both. We need to be careful.” Harris tried again to prevent Nolen from exiting by blocking the doorway.

  Annemarie watched from the shadows, further adding to the tension. Nolen could smell the desperation emanating off Harris and it only added to Nolen’s indifference.

  “Annemarie,” Nolen said, and she stepped forward. She stopped before him and gave him a slight nod, as if to introduce herself. From the look in Harris’s eyes, it was as if he’d just realized Annemarie was there.

  “Mr. Harris, we have three accounts that you can withdraw money from,” she said, removing an envelope and extending it to him. “If you work through the contact provided in the dossier, the transfer will be discreet to a ne
w account we can provide for you. Of course, Mr. Adams will compensate for the exchange rate fees.” Sydney lifted her head to and spotted Trish in the doorway, watching. “Something on your mind?” she asked, returning her eyes to the mirror to apply her lip-gloss.

  “You told Ricky about this?”

  “He’s one of my closest friends.”

  “He’s your boyfriend!” Trish said, aghast.

  “No, Trish, sweetie, he’s not my boyfriend,” Sydney said and laughed.

  “Could’ve fooled me.”

  Sydney stared at her friend, who hadn’t entertained a man since they met. “When are you going to date?” Trish waved her off and turned to leave. “I have too much work to do.” Coming out of the bathroom behind her, Sydney frowned. “Painting is all you do. You need to get out.”

  “What am I going to tell Portia when she gets in and asks where you are?” Sydney put on two pairs of socks and then slipped on her boots. “I don’t care what you tell her. She’s not my mother, Trish. Good grief!”

  “She’s really stressing now, Sydney. That incident shook her up. Her agent called with an interview, and Portia told her she couldn’t work. Since when does Portia refuse a photo shoot?” Sydney sighed. “Yeah, I know, but it’ll blow over.”

  “I hope so.” Trish looked up as someone knocked on the door. “I’ll get it.” Sydney pulled her cable-knit skullcap over her head and pushed her long mane behind her shoulders.

  She wore no makeup except frosted bronze lip-gloss and eyeliner.

  “Sydney, it’s your ride!” Trish called.

  Sydney grabbed her thick jacket and went to the door.

  “Ms. Allen?” the driver asked.

  “Let me tell you where we’re going tonight,” she said, following him out. She gave him their final destination as they made their way out into the cool night. The limo door opened, and Nolen slid over so that she could climb in. Sydney was amused by the contrast between her puffy jacket and jeans and his business suit.

  “Well, hello to you too,” Nolen said.

  “Hello, Mr. Adams,” she said as she pulled off her gloves.

  Nolen watched her unzip the monstrous jacket and shrug it off. “Now I’m really curious as to where we’re going,” he said, looking her over for an explanation.