Heart's Choice

by Celeste O. Norfleet

  Just then her cell phone rang. She looked at the time stamp before answering. It was just after six o’clock. Few people had her personal cell number and even fewer would call her at this time in the morning. She answered.

  “Please, please tell me I woke you up and you’re lying next to a hunk of man and the two of you just had hot ’n’ sweaty butt-naked scream-his-name-over-and-over-again sex.”

  Jazz laughed. It was her best friend, Savannah. “Does a dog at my feet count?”

  “A dog as in a man, or a real barking mutt?” she said.

  “A real barking mutt, actually a mongrel, I’d say,” Jazz clarified, humored by her friend’s constant hopefulness of getting her in bed with someone, anyone. Just then the dog’s head bopped up and he looked at her. Jazz smiled haplessly and shrugged as if apologizing for hurting his feelings by calling him a mongrel. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, but you always do. Honey, when are you gonna throw caution to the wind and enjoy your life a little?” Savannah asked with mock disappointment. “You need to get out of the lovelorn slump and find yourself some new blood, preferably coursing through the veins of a six-foot-five inch hunk of a man.”

  Savannah always thought a man was the answer to all her problems. In actuality, men were the main thing contributing to the problem. She’d been married three times already, and she and Jazz were the same age. She was wild and uncontrollable and had been that way ever since they’d met in boarding school. Jazz had attended for only a few years, whereas Savannah had grown-up there.

  She was part Cherokee Indian and part African-American. Her father, unlike most Native Americans, sat on a ton of money. Her mother was a model who owned an international modeling agency and lived in London. Looking at Savannah was like looking at perfection. She had the beauty of both parents, and she used it to her full advantage.

  “Please tell me that I, at least, woke you up and you’re still in bed.”

  “I’m up sitting on some rocks in Sag Harbor.”

  “Good Lord, woman, what the blazes are you doing in Sag Harbor already? The season hasn’t even officially started yet.”

  “I know, and it’s the perfect time to be here.”

  “So, what do you do there?”

  “Read scripts mostly, walk along the beach, relax.”

  “I bet you haven’t even been out of the house, except at dawn, have you? Speaking of which, where are you renting?”

  “I’m not. I’m staying with a friend, Melanie Harte. You’ve heard me talk about her.”

  “Sure. She’s a matchmaker, right?”

  “Right,” Jazz said.

  “Well, that at least sounds promising.”

  “I’m not here to see her professionally. I’m just visiting.”

  “Have I taught you nothing? Find thee a man, get thee sexed up then get thy butt back to L.A.” Jazz laughed at Savannah’s creed. “You think I’m kidding. I’m not.”

  Jazz laughed again. Talking to Savannah was exactly what she needed. They had always been there for each other. After her mother died, they went to New Jersey and stayed with her grandparents for a month. Afterward they went to Santa Fe and stayed with Savannah’s grandmother for another month. When Savannah’s mother got sick, they stayed in London for months. Whenever she married or divorced, they celebrated. Then, when Brian died, they traveled together for three months. She was always a lifesaver. “Where were you last night when I really needed you?”

  “Why, what happened last night?” Savannah asked.

  “Mel threw a preseason party.”

  “Sounds intriguing. Anybody interesting show up?”

  “Have you ever heard of Devon Hayes?”

  “L.A. football player, gorgeous, rich, body of an African warrior?” she said, describing him perfectly.

  “Savannah, do you know every eligible man on the planet?”

  “You have your hobbies, and I have mine,” she said by way of explaining her extensive knowledge of just about anything concerning men. “What about him? Was he there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you do him?”

  “You are absolutely obsessed,” Jazz declared.

  “Thanks,” Savannah said, laughing. “Now answer the question. Did you?”

  “No, I didn’t do him. He’s not exactly my type.”

  “Honey child,” Savannah said in her most Southern accent, “if my memory serves correctly, that man is everybody’s type. My advice to you is to find him, do him and then do him again.”

  “I don’t have to find him. He lives close by.”

  “Ohh, how convenient. Nothing like ordering some takeout.”

  “I swear, you have a one-track mind. It’s way too early for this conversation. Half the states aren’t even up yet. As a matter of fact, where are you now, still on location in Brazil?”

  “No, London.”

  “You’re visiting your mom?”

  “Yeah, she had a crash and burn. I’m helping her out.”

  “Okay, I’ll catch the next flight out,” Jazz said, sitting straight up.

  “No, don’t, she’s fine. I just popped over to confirm.”

  “Are you sure you don’t need me?”

  “Positive.”

  Jazz nodded, knowing there was never false pride between them. If Savannah really needed her, she’d have no qualms in saying so. Their friendship was based on honesty. If there was a problem and she needed her, she’d ask Jazz to come, knowing she would without question. “What happened?” Jazz asked.

  “The usual—overworked, near exhaustion. She collapsed. I’ll tell you about it later. I’m headed back to the States, hopefully, in a few weeks.”

  “New York or L.A.?” Jazz asked, referring to where they would meet up.

  “Let’s do New York,” Savannah said. “I need to shop American.”

  “Sounds good. Call me when you get in.”

  “I will. I gotta get ready to go.”

  “All right, take care. Tell your mom I asked about her.”

  “Will do, and take care of you. Remember, baby steps.”

  Jazz closed her cell and sat back thinking about Savannah’s mother. In a lot of ways she was like her own mother. They had both fallen in love with impossible men, and they both had been devastated when they turned away.

  Her mother, Yelena Brooks, had everything: beauty, brains and talent. Her one and only movie had been her downfall. Meeting and falling in love with Frank Richardson had ruined her career and, in the end, her life. She loved him to the end. He came to her when she was dying and professed his love. He asked for forgiveness for choosing his career over her. She died in peace knowing that.

  Unlike her mother, Jazz still hadn’t forgiven her father and she saw no reason to ever forgive him in the future. She closed her eyes and lay back, letting the early morning light bathe her in warmth as a gentle breeze rustled around. She hummed the song she’d heard last night. It had been on her mind ever since. It was her mother’s song. It wasn’t the most popular, and it hadn’t won any awards, but it was special because it had been written for her by her mother. Her mind drifted back to happy memories with her mother. A few minutes later she heard playful screams. She opened her eyes and saw a couple frolicking on the beach.

  The man chased the woman, and she squealed each time he caught her. He grabbed her waist, and she held tight when he picked her up and spun her around. He slowly stopped and sat her back down on the sand, but not before kissing her. Jazz watched as the kiss intensified then stopped when a jogger ran by.

  Being outside, yet still away from the prying eyes of the public, was a pleasure. That’s why she loved walking on the beach at dawn and dusk or sitting out on the patio. Going beyond those boundaries meant the possibility of being recognized. She had changed her hair, highlighted it and wore large hats and dark sunglasses. Few people bothered when she looked so closed off. And if they stared, it was on her terms, because of her outrageous hat and glasses, and not beca
use she was who she was.

  Months ago, when Melanie had suggested she come and spend a few weeks at her Sag Harbor residence, Jazz turned her down. Being alone was more to her liking. Then some tabloid concocted an elaborate tale about her suicide watch and subsequent mental breakdown, and she knew she needed to do something different. The scary thing was the story had an inkling of truth.

  Staying with a family friend had seemed to be a good idea at the time. Now she wasn’t so sure. Melanie was a matchmaker. No, correction, she was “the” foremost matchmaker to the wealthy. Not just wealthy: millionaire, billionaire wealthy. Her clientele ranged from sports figures to movie stars to CEO’s. Anyone with at least a seven-digit bank account could request her services. Thankfully, she was no longer on Melanie’s hit list.

  “Jazz, is that you?”

  Jazz leaned up, seeing Jessica in jogging shorts and ear buds. She was running in place beside the rocks. She waved good morning.

  Jessica climbed up and collapsed down beside her. “Now I remember why I hate jogging. I was going to call you later. I looked for you last night. I guess you left early. Was everything okay?” she said breathlessly.

  “Yeah, fine. I had a nice time. I’m glad I went. But I didn’t leave that early. You probably missed seeing me because I was outside in the gazebo toward the end of the evening.”

  “You, too. Wow. Apparently that gazebo was pretty popular last night. A woman at the party told Veronica she saw a couple kissing passionately in the gazebo. Then afterward they danced slow and seductively. She said it was like a scene from a movie. She had to pull her husband away, ’cause he wanted to stand in line to use the gazebo next.”

  Jazz groaned inwardly. “Actually, that was probably me.”

  “That was you?” Jessica repeated, obviously surprised.

  “It’s not what you think. I was helping Devon out.”

  “Devon, as in Devon Hayes? Nice, very nice,” she said.

  “Some pint-sized Lolita was on him all night, and we kissed to cool her jets. It worked. She left him alone.”

  “I like my version better.”

  “I didn’t realize there were other people that close.”

  “No one recognized you. But they did see Devon coming back to the party alone. He left shortly thereafter. His bad-boy image is still intact. Everyone assumed he was meeting his kissing partner somewhere more discreet.”

  “It’s amazing how these things start.”

  “This is Sag Harbor. It’s a small town, and everybody knows everybody’s business. Devon is a hot ticket.”

  “So I’ve been hearing.”

  “There are few men to equal his intensity and abilities on the field. His football stats and his career records are incredible. They’re already talking about him being inducted into the Hall of Fame when he retires.”

  “Is he really that good?” Jazz asked curiously.

  “Better. He’s probably got a dozen-plus endorsements. And they say that he makes more money off the field than on it. He was injured four games into last season. The Stallions crashed and burned after that. Everybody thinks he blames himself.”

  “Was it his fault?”

  “No. It’s football. It happens. A key player goes out for the season, morale drops and it’s like treading the Atlantic trying to get back again. The harder they tried, the more they failed.”

  “So he chilled out all season, huh?”

  “I doubt that. It was a bad hit right to the knee. It was what they call a career ender. He had surgery, worked hard to recover and now he looks as good as new. I know he’s been working with his youth foundation and scholarship programs in his downtime. He’s a good guy, not the average athlete.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Jazz said, still skeptical.

  “Okay,” Jessica said, standing and looking down the beach, “I gotta get back to running. I’ll catch you later.” She jumped down onto the sand, jogged in place, checked her neck pulse and started jogging again.

  Jazz watched her a moment then lay back and closed her eyes. This time she thought about the kiss last night with Devon. She’d only kissed him to help him out. She knew any woman, no matter what age, couldn’t just stand and watch the object of her infatuation being kissed. So she did it for him. At least that was the story she insisted on telling herself. But she knew better. She kissed him because she was curious and because she wanted to feel his arms wrapped around her. Last night the kiss had swept her up. What was meant as a taste had devoured them. When their lips parted and she looked into his eyes, she saw what she knew was reflected in her own eyes: passion and desire.

  Every part of her wanted him. It had been a long time since a man had touched her, and having Devon’s solid body and strong arms holding her had made her feel protected and secure. She liked the feeling. For so long she had felt helpless, but all of a sudden with him she was strong and in charge again.

  She smiled as her thoughts wandered to daydreams and then to fantasies. The kiss from last night became more than a kiss as his mouth traveled down her body, setting her skin on fire. She drifted away with that thought.

  She awoke alone. It was twenty minutes later. She looked around. Her amiable canine companion had long since disappeared.

  She got up and walked back to the house. Beachfront, the sprawling mega-mansion, sat on a bluff surrounded by nature’s perfection. It was beyond exquisite. As she approached the large structure, she admired its beauty and aesthetics. Melanie had told her the huge three-story mansion had been built in the mid-twentieth century. It was first owned by her great grandmother, then her mother and now her. It was her home and her workplace. She spotted Melanie sitting out on the patio with her laptop. “Good morning,” she said.

  Melanie looked up from her laptop and smiled happily, bracing her oversized straw hat against the warm breeze. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

  Jazz took a deep breath and nodded. “Great. You?”

  “Wonderful. There’s coffee in the pot. Help yourself.”

  “Thanks,” Jazz said as she walked to the marble-topped buffet and poured herself a cup. She carried the china cup to the seat across from Melanie and sat down. “You’re working already?”

  Melanie smiled. “I’m always working. My grandmother once told me that matchmaking is a calling, not a nine-to-five job. She was right. I didn’t quite understand what she was talking about until I took over the business from my mother. And our Platinum Society’s morning meetings are the best part of my day.” She smiled contentedly.

  “I still don’t see how you do it.”

  “It’s a joy, and I really love what I do.”

  “Are you setting up a match now?” Jazz asked, seeing Melanie focused on the laptop’s screen again.

  “No, actually this is something neither my mother nor my grandmother had to contend with. I’m blogging.”

  “You blog?”

  “Of course. This is the twenty-first century, and there’s a whole new world to communicate with. That means keeping up with technology. I use MySpace and Facebook. I blog and I Twitter.”

  “What are you blogging about this morning?”

  “Last night’s party, of course. It was a huge success. I arranged two very promising in-person meetings and got several potential clients.”

  “In-person meetings?” Jazz asked, instantly thinking of Devon. “You mean where the two people actually meet for the first time?”

  Melanie nodded. “You know that my clients are very wealthy and very busy people. Some of them prefer to meet their matches in less formal ways. For them I throw small parties. I also invite friends and associates to make the evening less obvious and more enjoyable.”

  “So, a few of your clients met their matches last night?” Jazz asked. Melanie nodded as she checked her cell phone for text messages. Knowing that Devon was one of Melanie’s clients, Jazz wondered if he’d met his match and, if so, who she was. “Devon is one of your clients. Did he meet his match?”

&nbs
p; “He met several,” Melanie said.

  Jazz wasn’t sure what that meant or how she felt about it. She just knew that it made her uncomfortable. Of course, it wasn’t that she liked him or anything like that. She didn’t know him. It was just that he was the first man to make her feel anything in a long time.

  “Did you enjoy yourself last night?” Melanie asked as she finished texting and looked across the table.

  “Yes, I had a nice time. Thank you for insisting that I attend.”

  “Is that what I did, insist?” Melanie asked innocently.

  “Yes, you did, adamantly,” Jazz said, smiling.

  “I’m a smart lady,” Melanie said, congratulating herself shamelessly. Jazz smiled and nodded in agreement. “It was good to see you out and with people last night. Now, what are your plans today?”

  Jazz had secluded herself in Melanie’s house for weeks. The farthest she’d gone was down the beach a bit then back to the house. The whole idea of seeing her face on the cover of another tabloid sickened her. “Nothing major, why?”

  “We have a dinner engagement this evening.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, Devon Hayes asked you and me to dinner this evening. I already accepted.”

  “Melanie…”

  “Ahh,” Melanie said, holding her hand up to halt her next comment. “You said you were ready to get back out into the world. A nice quiet dinner with friends is the perfect setting. Besides, I couldn’t turn him down. He wants to thank you for last night. Apparently you rescued him from a tricky predicament.” Jazz half smiled. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”

  “Yes, I helped him with a pest problem.”

  “I see.”

  “But inviting me to dinner isn’t necessary. He’s your client, and I’m sure you two have things to discuss.”