RSVP with Love

by Sandra Kitt

  “All of you out there in the Atlanta area with special events coming up should check out Chloe’s Web site. That information will be up on the screen in a minute, along with a phone number and e-mail. When I first met you with Kevin Stayton at his fabulous club, was it for business or pleasure?” Cassidy asked boldly, her smile in place.

  The question threw Chloe for a moment, making her stomach churn as she quickly fashioned a response.

  “Business,” Chloe said and smiled back. “I recently signed a contract with Kevin to use Bollito in October. I’d never been there before. It’s a perfect party place for homecoming weekend.”

  “Makes me want to be there. Chloe Jackson, owner and president of RSVP. Keep both in mind, folks, for your next anniversary or birthday celebration.” She shook hands with Chloe. “Chloe, thanks for being our guest on ‘What’s New in Atlanta.’ We’d love to have you back in October to tell us all about Hollington College’s homecoming.”

  “Thank you. I’d love to.”

  “Coming up next…”

  Chloe let out her breath and stood passive as she was disconnected from her mike. Cassidy graciously thanked her again and said goodbye before she turned her attention to the next part of the show after their commercial break.

  Chloe was gratified when, as she left the set of Cassidy’s Rise and Shine show, she was asked to leave some of her business cards. She was also congratulated for being a great interviewee. Chloe was out of the studio in barely ten minutes. It was another few minutes before she finally released the tension from her body, which she’d dealt with ever since getting the call from the local affiliate that she was being invited to appear on the show.

  She walked to the station’s parking lot and got into the driver’s seat of her car. Immediately her cell phone rang.

  “Chloe, you were great! I know you heard everybody in the office screaming when you came on!”

  “Thanks, Lynette. What’s going on?”

  “Well, everybody ran over to that electronics store in the lobby because they have all those flat screen…”

  Chloe sighed and chuckled. “Lynette, I’m talking about business. Is there anything I need to know or do? Should I come back to the office?”

  “No, we’re good. You looked beautiful! See, I told you that Stella McCartney was the right dress for the camera,” Lynette raced right on, ignoring Chloe’s officious focus.

  “Okay. Sounds like you and Franco have things under control. I think I’m going to head over to the company that’s making the floats for the homecoming parade. They’re falling behind, and we only have two months to finish. Also, I’m expecting a call back from Beverly Turner. Well, Turner Clark. I keep forgetting she was married. Anyway, if she calls, transfer it to my cell. I really need to talk with her as soon as possible.”

  “Will do.”

  “Then I’m going to…”

  “Ah, Chloe. There is something else. You know that woman who’s been hanging around the building? Franco thinks she’s homeless and is looking for handouts. You’ve seen her, right?”

  Chloe’s stomach went right back to churning. The tension was making her feel almost ill.

  “What about her?”

  “She was here this morning. And she asked for you by name. I didn’t think it would do any good to lie and say I don’t know who she’s talking about. I mean, she’s been standing out there in front of the atrium since July. She finally left, but I thought I’d better let you know. Maybe the next time I should call the police.”

  Chloe closed her eyes. “No, please don’t do that,” she said. “She’s not…dangerous, I don’t think. She’s homeless. She needs help.”

  “But, how come she knows who you are? That was spooky when she used your name. I hope she’s not a stalker. You’ve been in that magazine and then on TV this morning. You don’t know what she might do.”

  I think I do, Chloe said to herself.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it, Lynette, but I appreciate you letting me know about her. I’ll see everyone later, but call if anything important comes up.”

  Chloe sat with the cell phone cradled in her hand and stared blankly out the windshield. She suddenly had the uneasy feeling that life was getting very complicated. But, more specifically, all of her hard work and determination to make something of herself, to overcome a grim childhood without any prospects could still come to nothing. Was she foolish to believe she was out of the woods and home free? That her life was really her own and nothing more could hurt her, because she wouldn’t let it?

  Her head fell back against the headrest, and she closed her eyes, wearily. Her business was thriving, but was it due to her own diligence or Kevin’s innocent intervention? She was getting the kind of press that her business needed but which she didn’t personally want. She had reinvented herself and created the life she’d always wanted, except for the untimely reappearance of a mother she no longer felt was her mother. And against all odds she and Kevin had actually come together, formed a relationship on their own. For all intents and purposes he was her boyfriend, her significant other, her lover. The very fact that it was happening still sometimes left Chloe breathless and in disbelief. She had the joy and luxury of evoking some of the recent time they’d spent together, out and about…or behind closed doors…that had been so memorable. Or…was she just another conquest for Kevin? Was she being used to further hone his skills as a ladies’ man?

  How was she going to separate fact from fiction or dumb luck from genuine opportunities? Could she know for sure her friends or lover? But Chloe also was starting to sense that, in a very real way, she had to be careful what she wished for. What was it going to take to make her happy?

  Her cell phone rang again. It was Kevin.

  “I watched you this morning. You did a fantastic job.”

  “Thank you. I can’t tell you how nervous I was.”

  “It didn’t show. As a matter of fact you looked pretty cool, and on point. Never let them see you sweat.” He chortled quietly. “And you did a great job of shutting down Cassidy when she tried to get too personal. I know she was only doing her job, but I don’t want our personal life used to boost her ratings.”

  Our personal life.

  Chloe smiled. She so needed to hear that.

  “She did invite me back. I think I want to pick someone else to return and represent homecoming. If I ever hear back from Beverly she would be perfect.”

  “I think Micah Ross would be better,” Kevin added.

  “Really? He is coming?”

  “I don’t know yet. But I’m going to find out. I promised you I’d get in touch with him, and I will. So where are you now?”

  “Oh…” She glanced around the quiet safety of the interior of her car. It seemed to be the only place for the moment where she could feel totally alone. “I’m just leaving the studio to head over to Hollington. I have another checklist of things to do. The ground manager is complaining that the tents I want to set up on the Square will damage the grass. I may have to fight.”

  Kevin chuckled. “Go get ’em, Chloe. I’m betting on you.”

  She sighed. “I don’t want to fight anybody.”

  “I know. You also said you don’t make demands. I liked that. Listen, anything I can do to help?”

  She could think of a few. Starting with having him make love to her again. Like he had that first time, when all he’d used was the gentleness of his voice and his clever fingers.

  She shifted and squirmed in her seat. “I’m okay, but thanks for asking.”

  “Okay. Here’s another question. When do I get to see you again?”

  Now Chloe smiled, for real and with relief. Kevin had just said what she needed to hear, in that wonderful deep rumble of his voice that seemed to ripple down her spine. That’s what he’d asked the first night she’d stayed with him. Actually, it had been the next night, after the day when she really knew she should go home, and he didn’t want her to. She’d offered no resistance to speak o
f when Kevin had used his own unique method of persuasion…

  It was the morning after the magical night of the two condoms. It turned out that was all they had between them, despite a rather desperate search on Kevin’s part through medicine cabinets and dresser drawers.

  “Chloe? Did you hear me?”

  “I’m thinking.” Chloe sighed, her recollections fading, feeling much better and more peaceful in the afterglow of them. “I don’t know, Kevin. I have an event to oversee tonight. I can’t say when I’ll be finished.”

  “Tonight doesn’t work for me, either. I promised a friend to help out with something. How about tomorrow night?”

  She laughed. “Don’t you have a club or two to run? Don’t you have groupies who would kill for a chance just to see you? Get a hug?”

  “Don’t go there,” he threatened.

  She wasn’t worried. She heard the smile in his tone.

  “I’d really love to but I have to keep my options open. The homecoming details are starting to come together and, unfortunately, there are problems cropping up here, there and everywhere. I’ve been spending as much time at the campus as I have at my office.”

  “Okay, breakfast. Look, you gotta give me something to look forward to.”

  “You sure do know how to say the right things,” she murmured.

  “Maybe. But I don’t say them to just anyone.”

  Chloe stayed back at the very edge of the crowds, slowly pacing from one side of the large white space to the other. Behind a discreet screen the catering service was preparing another tray of finger foods to be served among the attendees of the gallery opening at Art and Soul, a new artists’ space. On the other side of the screen an open bar had been set up where wine, beer, water and club sodas were being served. The lights were up full, which was better to see the artwork that hung on all the walls. Near the center of the space the artist himself, Hans Dexter, a teddy bear of a man with wild hair in serious need of a cut and a beard also out of control, held court. Unlike his fashionably dressed guests, which included collectors, he looked decidedly shabby but artistic and therefore cool. And just to make sure people were clear on his creative eccentricities, he was wearing a pair of dilapidated sandals that Chloe was convinced he’d owned since he was an undergrad at Brown.

  After a moment she realized that there was someone in the room she recognized. Tamara Hodges. The attractive writer seemed to know many of the folks there—or she gave the impression that she did. She was a writer and a reporter, after all. It was obvious that with her friendly, open demeanor, her charm and ability to make people feel special, she was on the clock covering the opening for Luster. Catching her gaze at one point, Tamara waved a greeting to her.

  “Shall we go ahead and open the champagne?”

  She turned to the bartender. “No, wait a little longer. The artist wants to say a few words first. We’ll save the champagne until he finishes.”

  The noise level made it nearly impossible to hold a reasonable conversation. Not a single note could be heard from a trio of young musicians playing a flute, an oboe and a harp. But they played with such concentration and earnestness that it didn’t matter that none of the guests were paying any attention. They seemed to be playing for themselves.

  The commissioned photographers were snapping the most beautiful, the most bizarre, the most entertaining of the guests and, of course, everyone tried to position himself or herself right next to the artist, because the picture was sure to make the social pages of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution on Sunday.

  “What do you think of the work?”

  Chloe grinned as she turned to Tamara, who stood next to her with her recorder and notebook. Chloe eyed them skeptically.

  “Is this off the record?”

  “Of course.” Tamara dropped her equipment into her oversize purse.

  “Not much. But I’m not being paid for my opinion. I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

  “I hadn’t planned on coming. I get so many invitations to these openings that after a while they all blur together. How are you? How’s business?”

  “Pretty good. To be honest, word of mouth has been so great that I don’t think I can handle any new clients for a while.”

  Tamara wrinkled her nose and grinned. “I’m glad to hear that. You know, I was thinking about how many of us from our class went on to such success. What are the odds that so many students from one graduating class would do the college proud?”

  Chloe let her gaze study Tamara, wondering where this was leading. “You have anyone particular in mind?”

  Tamara shrugged, seemingly indifferent. “Well, of course there’s Kevin. Stayton Investments is on the Atlanta Fortune 100 list, and he started that charity last year to help mentor young boys without fathers or other strong male role models in their lives. And Terrence Franklin. I know his career ended too soon, but I bet he’s a shoo-in in a few years for the hall of fame. And then there’s yourself and Kyra.” Tamara looked down at the floor. “And Micah Ross.”

  Chloe knew she’d have to be blind not to notice the confusion and even underlying pain in Tamara’s hazel eyes. She shook her head. “I don’t know if he’s coming or not.”

  “To be honest, I was out in L.A. this summer and…Micah and I saw each other.”

  “Really?” Chloe said, genuinely surprised and unable to hide it.

  “I’m writing a series on up and coming Black talent in the music business. I arranged to interview a few who are signed on with Micah’s label. It’s hard to believe that he went from being a computer genius to a big-time music producer.”

  “Did you interview Micah, too?”

  “Actually no.” Tamara laughed nervously, her high-yellow skin betraying her blush. “I thought I’d get to interview him as well, but…it never happened. I got…a little off track. He never did say if he was coming in October.”

  “It’s easy enough to find out. I could check to see if his RSVP to the reunion invitation was received.”

  Tamara shook her head, her smile clearly forced, and her eyes overly bright. “No, don’t bother. If he comes, he comes.”

  So it’s not over. After all these years.

  Of course Chloe recognized that the very same thing could be said of her and her feelings about Kevin. The chances had been slim and none that they would ever get together in her lifetime. And yet, they had. Not only had her feelings for Kevin not changed since the days of her young crush but she knew they’d grown considerably deeply. But the realization had not brought her comfort so much as high anxiety. Was the thing going on between them really too good to be true?

  “You know, I haven’t spoken with Micah or e-mailed in a long while. My fault,” Chloe confessed. “My last year in New York before deciding to return to Atlanta was very stressful. I was distracted. I dropped the ball. We lost touch.”

  “I know he considered you his best friend. I’m sorry he never considered me one,” Tamara said.

  Her despair was hardly concealed, and Chloe felt for her. But she had no chance to respond, to reassure Tamara that time heals a lot of wounds and ill feelings. What a hypocrite that would make her, she thought, as she considered her reaction to the return of Billie Burns in her own life.

  There was a commotion at the door, a flurry of movement and a wild snapping of digital flash cameras.

  “I better get into this,” Tamara said, having pulled herself together. “Might be something I can use in the magazine.”

  With that she disappeared into the crowd. But Chloe quickly found out the reason for the sudden buzz. Standing in his own royal arena was Kevin. He politely greeted people he knew, allowed himself to be hugged and kissed, posed and photographed with them, as he inched his way into the room. The artist, Hans, bellowed out his own greeting and, dramatically throwing up his arms, burst through the crowd to wrap his arms around a startled but amused Kevin.

  Chloe stood back and watched.

  He was enjoying himself, she realized.r />
  He liked being the center of attention, the golden boy, baby of the family…crown prince.

  And then Chloe realized that he wasn’t alone. As much as Kevin tried to accommodate everyone’s pull on his attention, he was just as caring and solicitous of the young woman who was with him.

  Chloe stood stone still, feeling as if the very life was running out of her. His companion couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen years old. She had amazing red hair and translucent flawless skin. Contradictory to her flaming hair she wore a deep red slash of lipstick on her mouth. She was tall and willowy, pretty but sullen. A model, Chloe guessed. And she held on to Kevin’s hand as if her life depended on it. He made sure that the girl wasn’t jostled or pushed aside. Everyone made room for the great man, the artist himself, who gave the young woman an equally exuberant hello.

  Kevin’s gaze began to roam the crowd. Eventually it settled on her. Chloe expected him to look stunned. Shamefaced. Embarrassed. Compromised. But instead Kevin’s eyes seem to light up, and he smiled a smile that had become very familiar to her. She wasn’t expecting him to be so open. Confused, she turned away busying herself with the details of seeing that twenty bottles of champagne were opened and poured.

  “So this is why you couldn’t see me tonight.”

  The caressing tone of his voice did not fail to leave its mark on her nerve endings. She took a deep breath and forced her face into an expression of calm surprise.

  “At least I’m really working, as I said. What’s your excuse?”

  His brows shot up, and then he looked puzzled as he stared into her eyes, trying to interpret her words, her mood.