Midnight Promise

by Dara Girard

  “Doesn’t matter. It was still memorable. Your take on—”

  Naomi wrapped an arm around her father’s, amazed by the scene of the two men—they looked like a large bear shaking hands with an antelope. “Sebastian, will you excuse us a moment?” she asked, but didn’t give him a chance to reply as she led her father into the kitchen.

  “He seems like a nice fellow,” he said in approval. “That’s a relief. I was afraid he was one of—”

  Naomi took off her glasses and covered her eyes. “I did too.” She let her hand fall and shoved her glasses back in place. “I made a mistake.”

  “That’s okay, I’m sure he’ll understand once you explain it.”

  She shook her head. “No, not about that.”

  “About what then?”

  Naomi paced a moment then paused and rested her hands on her hips. “I promised him a job. I know it sounds crazy, but…I got into a bit of jam and he helped me and…he’s milking a moment of weakness. I’m sure he just wants money. I was going to send him a reward, but I forgot. So now he’s here and I’ll—”

  “He was at my lecture.”

  Naomi paused and stared at him. “Dad, that has nothing to do with what I just said.”

  “Yes, it does. You’re implying that he’s here for dubious reasons. I don’t think he is. If you hadn’t interrupted him, he would have expanded on what he got from my lecture.”

  “I’m sure he’s just flattering you. It’s easy to read up on people nowadays. He knew my name that night. It could be a con.”

  “What night?”

  “At the wedding. He was there. We met in the parking lot.”

  Her father folded his arms. “And you promised him a job. So you must honor it.” He wagged a finger at her. “I brought up children who keep their word.”

  “Have you looked at him? How can I have a man like that follow me around as my assistant?”

  “So you’re going back on your promise?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Yes, it is.” He peeked out the kitchen and glanced at Sebastian sitting in the living room. “I wonder what’s in the bag.”

  “He brought me soup.”

  “Hmm…I love soup. What kind?”

  “I don’t know. Probably chicken noodle. He knows I have a cold. But that’s—”

  “Even better. Tell me when it’s ready.” He headed for the door. “And you’d better keep your word to that young man or I’m telling your mother you’re moving in with us.” He flashed a smile then left.

  Chapter 6

  Naomi groaned and walked into the living room like a condemned woman. She sat in front of Sebastian. “We haven’t talked salary. I don’t—”

  He stood. “Is the kitchen free now? You’re looking a little peakish.”

  “Yes, but—” She stopped when he walked past her.

  “Did you have breakfast?” he asked, setting the bag on the kitchen table. “Probably not,” he said, answering his own question. He unzipped the bag and began to unpack a large container of soup, fresh bread, fruit salad, and a thermos. “Where are your bowls?”

  She pointed to one of the cabinets. “But you really don’t have too…” She stopped when he opened the lid of the soup, which was still piping hot, steam rising up to the ceiling. The soup wasn’t the usual broth with bits of chicken and carrots and noodles. This was Caribbean style heaped with chicken, dumplings, yams, and potatoes and the spicy scent called her forward. It would be a shame to let such a meal go to waste.

  Sebastian set the bowl in front of her then lifted an eyebrow. “Bread?”

  “Yes, please.” She didn’t realize how hungry she was until she took the first taste. She’d missed breakfast. He was annoyingly right about that. She usually forgot about meals until someone reminded her, but her empty stomach rejoiced. “This is delicious.”

  “If you want more, just let me know.”

  She took another large spoonful. “No, this is fine.” She paused then glanced with guilt at the remainder in the container. If Sebastian also ate, there wouldn’t be enough for her father. “You gave me a lot. Let me put some of this away.”

  “I already ate. There’s plenty for your father.”

  “Good,” she said in relief.

  He leaned back in his chair and studied her. “So what just happened?”

  “What?” she said with little interest, solely focused on eating as much of the savory soup as possible. If she could inhale it she would.

  “Why did you think I came for a blow job?”

  Naomi choked on her soup and coughed.

  Sebastian opened the thermos and poured a drink that smelled like lemon and lime. He held it out to her. “Here.”

  She waved him away. “No, I’m fine,” she said then coughed again and changed her mind, taking the drink and gulping it down. She cleared her throat, her cheeks burning from embarrassment. He had a right to bring up her misunderstanding, but she still wished he hadn’t. Couldn’t he have pretended that she hadn’t made an idiot of herself? “I’m really sorry about that. I’ve had a few unwanted visitors.”

  “To put it mildly.” He folded his arms and leaned back further, tilting the chair to balance on its back legs. She heard the chair groan under his weight. She hoped it would continue to hold him. She’d gotten the kitchen set secondhand and had no idea how old it was. He dwarfed the metal chair, with its curved back and tan cushion, so much so it seemed to disappear beneath him, giving him the eerie appearance of floating in mid-air.

  She sighed and returned to her soup, she’d finish it before she sent him on his way. “The truth is I’m really overwhelmed right now. I have to find a new place to live and break my lease and—”

  “I’ll take care of that for you. Do I need to take care of a spiteful ex as well?”

  Her head shot up, the spoon halfway to her mouth. “What?”

  “Is there a reason men have been showing up at your door asking for sex?”

  She swallowed. He was very straightforward. She liked that in a person, even if it was humiliating.

  “My housekeeper.” She shook her head. “I mean my former housekeeper, invited men here while I was away on business and probably even when I stayed overnight at the lab. And let’s just say I work late a lot.” Naomi set her spoon down and pushed the bowl away, losing her appetite at the thought of how long or how men many had seen the inside of her apartment. She held her head in her hands. “It’s awful.”

  Sebastian pushed the soup towards her. “It’s a problem that can be solved. Eat up.”

  She picked up the spoon then set it back down. “Not that easily.”

  He lifted the spoon.

  She started to laugh. “Are you planning to feed me?”

  “If I have to. You look exhausted.”

  And she felt it too. She felt as if the weight of her worries were about to crush her.

  Sebastian put the spoon in her hand. “Come on. I’m here to help. Let me do my job.”

  “We haven’t even discussed—”

  “You can argue while you eat.”

  Naomi frowned then took a spoonful. Within seconds the warm concoction made her feel like her worries were melting away. Or was it him? His steady, quiet yet forceful presence was oddly comforting. She took another sip.

  Sebastian nodded pleased then pulled out his cell phone. “What do you need?”

  “What?” She put down her spoon, but when she saw a slight frown touch his lips, she picked it up again. “No, you can’t…” She took a spoonful and saw the frown ease. “I mean I can’t…” She took another bite and the frown disappeared and he unfolded his arms. “I know what I promised, but I don’t have the funds to pay you. Even if it’s a stipend, it would be stretch.”

  He leaned forward, setting the chair down on all four legs with a thud. “That’s fine, then I’ll be your personal assistant on a volunteer basis.”

  “But—”

  “You haven’t touched your bread.” He s
hifted his gaze to his cell phone. “Now just tell me what you need.” He stood. “Never mind. I’ll be right back.”

  Moments later her father entered the kitchen with a big grin of his face. “Sebastian told me you’d be here.” He grabbed a bowl and spoon. “Does it taste as good as it smells?”

  “Where is he?”

  Her father ladled soup into his bowl, sat down and began to eat. “Hmm…”

  “Dad?”

  “What?”

  “Where is he?”

  “He’s just looking around.”

  “Why?”

  “How am I supposed to know that?”

  Before Naomi could leave the kitchen to find out what Sebastian was up to, he appeared in the doorway. “You don’t appear to need much space or light for that matter.”

  Her father laughed. “That’s true. I sometimes call her my little mushroom.”

  Naomi winced, that wasn’t exactly something she wanted shared, but it was the family joke that she flourished best in dark, damp places. She couldn’t remember the last time she looked outside her apartment window and wasn’t even sure how many she had.

  “Are you doing any university work? Do you want a place within walking distance?”

  “No, at least for the next several years. I’ve won a grant,” she said mentioning the project that had been funded by a foreign foundation due to the narrow scope of her research and lack of interest from the greater science community. “But…I’ll be looking for another lab location since the present one won’t work for what I plan to do.”

  He nodded. “Done.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “He said ‘done’,” her father said.

  She shot him a glance. “I know what he said, I want to understand what it means.”

  “I know the perfect place,” Sebastian said. “I can show you when your schedule is free.” He held out his hand. “Let me see your phone.”

  “Why?”

  “So I can see your schedule.”

  Naomi quickly finished her soup and set the bowl and spoon in the sink then left the kitchen. “I don’t keep it there,” she said as he followed her to the living room. She sat on the couch.

  Sebastian sat in front of her. “Fine, then show me your calendar.”

  She shook her head.

  “Your organizer?”

  She shook her head again.

  He frowned. “Then where do you keep your schedule?”

  She tapped the side of her head.

  “And how many flights have you missed?”

  She paused again surprised by his perception. “Just two. Okay five, but…”

  “And conferences?”

  “I get to them just fine. Okay,” she admitted when he looked doubtful. “So I usually miss the keynote speaker.”

  “Meetings? Movies? Dinner dates?”

  “I don’t date.”

  “Duly noted.”

  She cleared her throat wondering why she’d felt the need to mention that. It was none of his business, but it still irked her that he didn’t seem surprised. She doubted his social life was better than hers.

  “What does your girlfriend think about this?” She could have said boyfriend or tried for a neutral term, but decided to go with the law of percentages on the total number of asexuals and homosexuals versus heterosexuals and hazard a guess.

  “She’s fine.”

  Bingo. She felt pleased she’d pegged him correctly. Perhaps a little too pleased. She stiffened. It shouldn’t matter one way or another. So what if he was smart, detailed, and thoughtful? With a haircut and a pressed suit he wouldn’t look half bad. She mentally shook her head. What was she thinking? She’d never thought of a man like this and he was here for a job and probably had a girlfriend who alphabetized her pantry and color coordinated her shoes and purse. “I bet she’s organized.”

  “She would be if she existed.” Before she could say anything more, he changed the subject. “So you don’t write anything down pertaining to your day-to-day activities?”

  Naomi glanced around the sparse room where a bookshelf stacked with textbooks stood next to a dusty green standing lamp. “I have a calendar somewhere.”

  “That you clearly don’t use. Don’t worry. What’s on the agenda today?”

  “I was finishing a project with my father. I just came back from Costa Rica so…”

  “Still unpacked from the look of the bags by the door.”

  She followed his glance. Nearly a week later and she’d practically forgotten about them. It wasn’t unusual for a few weeks to pass before she put things away. “Do you want me to take anything to the cleaners?”

  “Yes.” She shook her head. “No.” She held out her hands. “I really appreciate this. You’re fast and efficient and I could use some help now that Maya is gone. But I hardly know anything about you.”

  “That’s why I gave you my card.” He tapped his leg. “You can look me up right now if you want.”

  She’d do that later, having him sit there waiting would be too awkward. “Why do you want this job?” she said suddenly feeling like a rattled HR recruiter. “No, first how did you know my name?”

  “I saw you at the wedding.”

  “Yes.”

  “And I couldn’t help overhearing that you might be in need of help.”

  She cringed. “You heard that?”

  “Your mother sounded like you were on the verge of being murdered.”

  “Yes, well…wait. Then why did you ask me why I said what I said to you at the door?”

  He flashed a quick grin. “I wanted to hear you explain it yourself.”

  Naomi narrowed her eyes and crossed her legs. Sneaky. “So you’re only here to help.”

  “Plus, I’m a big fan.”

  “Fan? I don’t have fans. Maybe you have me confused with someone else. I’m…”

  “Dr. Naomi Mensah,” he said then proceeded to give her a brief description of her academic background and accomplishments as if he were writing her profile for Wikipedia.

  She nodded semi-impressed. “You did do your homework.”

  “I’ve read your work.”

  “Then why would you want to be my personal assistant? Since you attended my father’s lecture, you must know something about the field. What’s your specialty?”

  He looked at her for a long moment, his sharp brown gaze both patient and probing. “My name is Sebastian Scott.”

  “Yes,” she said with impatience. “I know. You told me.”

  “Dr. Sebastian Scott.”

  He waited his probing gaze becoming more intense, as if he expected her to know the answer to a riddle. Was his name supposed to mean something to her? He was at the wedding. Were they family somehow? Distant cousins? No, her father would have known him too or her mother would have mentioned him. Sebastian Scott. For some reason his name did sound familiar. She bit her lip and swung her foot. “The only Sebastian Scott I can think of is the disgraced scientist whose lousy research caused BioCorps millions and led to his dismissal under a cloud of shame.”

  He blinked.

  Naomi silently swore as her eyes widened. Ohhhh…noooo… “That’s you?”

  He blinked again.

  “But—”

  “We can talk about me later. You should probably rest now so you can recover from your cold. I’ll be here tomorrow at eight sharp.”

  “But it’s Saturday.”

  “That’s fine.” He walked to the door. “We need to find you a new place to stay. It will be a pleasure to work with you.” He nodded then left.

  Chapter 7

  Naomi stormed into the kitchen where her father was finishing his soup with relish. She gestured to the other room. “Did you hear that?” she said with a note of panic in her voice.

  He licked his lips. “Is there enough of this soup to take home to your mother?”

  “Dad, did you just here that!”

  “Here what?”

  Naomi fell into the chair i
n front of him. “Dad! That was Sebastian Scott. The Sebastian Scott. Dr. Disgrace. Sebastian the—”

  “And what do they call you?”

  “Besides brilliant?”

  “The other name. Isn’t it Nutty Naomi?”

  She frowned. “I didn’t know you knew it too.”

  “Nicknames have no business in our field, they belong on playgrounds and sometimes not even there. I expect better from you.”

  “Okay, so I won’t call him a name, that doesn’t change who he is.”

  “At least one problem is solved.”

  “What is that?”

  “I wondered why he seemed familiar, and now I know why. He didn’t lie about attending a lecture of mine and he would know who you are. So he’s not a con or crazy, although he’s let himself go a bit.”

  Naomi’s brows shot up. “A bit? He needs to shape his hair and trim his beard and, his clothes don’t fit him well and are crumpled. He looks like he’s dragged himself out of a cardboard box.”

  Her father shook his head in regret. “Dr. Scott had such promise. He’d risen faster than most. It’s a shame.”

  It was a shame. There had been such hope in the research he and his team had developed. Their data helped create a synthetic antibiotic against the tuberculosis bacterium. Unfortunately, it had a deleterious effect on the ear and caused impaired hearing. It had been rumored that in a push to produce the antibiotic, results had been doctored or interpreted with lack of care.

  “I can’t work with him.”

  “You made—”

  “I know what I said, but my reputation is everything. I can’t be seen with him. And why would he want this job anyway? He should be teaching high school somewhere. Or selling insurance.”

  “Insurance?”

  She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “I couldn’t think of something else.”

  “You can’t back out now. He can find you a place.”

  “So you were listening.”

  “Only to that part. Your mother is very worried. The sooner you’re out of this place, the sooner I can go back to my regular routine.”

  “You’re retired.”