by Nicki Night
“I know. You have a great day, okay?”
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
Nixon hopped up the three brick steps leading to the front door. Before he could stick his key in the lock, the door opened. Gloria stood centered in the frame with her arms outstretched. Nixon stepped right between them and she wrapped those arms around him tightly.
“Hey, baby boy.” Gloria pulled back, held him at arm’s length and studied him the way mothers do. “You look like you’re eating well.” She cupped his face gently between her hands. “And you’re still a handsome devil. Those girls in Long Island haven’t been clamoring after you?” Gloria stepped aside so Nixon could enter fully.
“No, Ma. No clamoring.” Nixon closed the door behind him.
“No ‘person of interest’ yet?”
“No, Ma.” Nixon shook his head.
“Well, something has been keeping you from me. If you don’t have time for your own mother—” she teased him with a slick smile, followed by a wink “—then at least take up with a nice girl. Work is great, but it will wear you out, leave you lonely and snatch time from under your feet. What good is it to die with a bank account full of money and no one to share your wealth or accomplishments with?”
“Ma!” Nixon moaned.
“Okay. I won’t get on your nerves with the where-are-my-grandkids rant today. Fair?”
“Fair!” Nixon kissed her nose. He wanted to quell the inevitable as soon as possible.
This was how it always started, and soon enough it would end somewhere around the fact that she and his dad were responsible for ruining his perspective on commitment. It wasn’t Gloria’s fault that her husband had walked out, propelling them on a free fall into low-income living, until Gloria was innovative enough to climb out of the pit, with her job as an operator at the telephone company by day and the use of a sewing machine by night.
“I’m all ready to go. I just need to put a little lipstick on.”
“Take your time, Ma.” He said that because he knew she would. She always said she was going to put on a little lipstick and emerged at least a half hour later looking as though she was ready for a cover shoot. Who knew lipstick took so long to put on and was capable of making a woman look like she’d just been prepped for a cover shoot? Nixon chuckled to himself.
Despite the fact that they were going to have lunch soon, Nixon headed to the kitchen to see what was in the fridge. She’d already packed plastic containers filled with leftovers for him to take home. Nixon smiled, grabbed bottled water and closed the fridge. He’d have to remember not to go back to Long Island without his food. He’d finished up his last batch of home-cooked meals weeks before.
She’d taught him to cook and he did well, but still couldn’t match her skills around a stove. He had a theory for what was missing. His mom loved cooking for him. He loved his mom, but who did he love cooking for? One day, he’d have someone in his life that he loved cooking for, and his meals would become as savory and perfect as his mother’s.
The doorbell rang.
“Honey, can you get that, please?” His mother shouted from the powder room.
“Sure. You expecting anyone in particular?”
“No. It might be Ms. Nelson, if she needs something.”
“Oh. Okay.” Nixon trotted toward the door, careful not to leave Ms. Nelson waiting too long. “Hey.” He’d already begun to greet her when he pulled the door open, but froze.
“Hey, son.”
Nixon cleared his throat. “Hey.” He didn’t say “Dad.” He wanted to, but didn’t.
Nick Sr. had grown older since the year before. Lines creased his forehead, bags hung under his eyes, a shade darker than the rest of him, and silver-gray sprouts mixed in his silken, jet-black hair and beard. With his stature, he could have looked distinguished if he wasn’t slumped and worn.
“Who is it, baby boy?”
Nixon realized neither he nor his father had moved a centimeter since he had opened the door.
“Hi, Gloria.”
He’d saved Nixon from having to make the announcement. He was caught somewhere between saying it was “him,” distancing himself from his father, and saying “your” ex-husband. He could have said “Dad,” but sometimes that left a bitter taste on his tongue.
Nixon Sr.—or Nick, as most called him—looked down at the threshold, then back up at Nixon, as if silently asking for permission to enter. Nixon moved aside and Nick took two cautious steps, stopping just inside the door frame.
“Baby boy, did you hear me?” Gloria froze in place with an open tube of lipstick in her hand. “Nick? What brings you here?” There was surprise in Gloria’s voice, but no malice. “How have you been?” She gave him a friendly hug and stepped back. Nixon caught the subtle way Gloria looked Nick over. “Have you eaten?”
“Oh.” Nick waved his hand, politely declining her offer of a meal. “I’m fine. I was in the neighborhood and just stopped by. I know it’s been a while.” Nick spoke to Gloria, but glanced back at Nixon.
“Well, Nixon and I were just about to run out.” Nixon perceived Gloria’s statement as a cordial dismissal. She hadn’t disclosed their plans or invited him to join them. “We’ll be back by the evening. Will you still be in the area later?”
His father’s large frame seemed drawn, Nixon thought. He stood there, head pinging back and forth between his parents, as they addressed one another in a casual manner that he himself couldn’t seem to manage with his father. For some reason, he always felt like Nick was sizing him up.
Nixon busied himself doing nothing. When he looked up, Nick’s eyes were on him again.
“Probably not,” Nick said. “But it’s a good thing I stopped by now.” He turned to Nixon. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re out on Long Island now, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Like it?”
“It’s nice.” Nixon would tell his mother later, over lunch, about the house he was thinking of buying.
“Look.” Nick swallowed. Nixon watched his throat shift like a lever. “I’m sorry about not showing up for dinner that day. Uh...something came up.”
“Yeah.” Nixon couldn’t seem to find other words.
“Yeah,” Nick replied in turn, his own voice more like a whisper. “Well, I’ll get out of your way. I don’t want to hold you two up.”
“Okay.” Gloria was heading back to the living room, her rhythmic footsteps a familiar sound. As a child, Nixon always knew when his mother was coming. “Let’s chat later. I’ll be around tonight.”
“All right.” Nick turned to leave. “Take care, son.”
Nixon nodded his goodbye.
Gloria turned to Nixon. “You know he loves you, right?”
Nixon chuckled. He didn’t know much about how his father felt about him. He didn’t even know how he felt himself. Nixon wasn’t exactly angry with his father for not being the dad he’d always wished for. But he wasn’t numb to the complicated existence they shared, either. Interactions with Nick always left him feeling like a confused boy, desiring his father’s attention, but not knowing what to do with it if he’d gotten it. As an adult, he’d tried pushing his feelings of rejection aside and reaching out to his father a couple times. It never worked out. He’d stopped trying.
Chapter 5
As usual, Jade was running short on time. She snatched her raincoat off the hanger dangling from her office door and shuffled to the car.
Jade chided herself for taking that last conference call on her office phone instead of her cell phone. She could have been halfway to the launch reception by now. She’d have to use the GPS system that alerted drivers of police presence so she’d know when to slow down on the expressway. If she sped just a little, she wouldn’t be too noticeably late.
She’d been exc
ited about the Executive Leadership Program when Ann told her about it, but when she received the official confirmation of her acceptance into the program by email, she was beside herself with anticipation. Jade was going to make her mark on the world as Jade Chandler, not just one of those Chandler girls. By no means would she ever balk at the benefits that came with carrying her family’s name. She was proud to be a Chandler, but just needed to carve her own path.
“Dude! Move! The sign says stop, not stay!” Jade bore down on her horn, aware of how obnoxious she was being, but more aware of how the small window of time was slipping away from her. She wanted to be better at getting to places on time. It wasn’t working tonight, but she was still going to try her best.
Jade made a quick pause at the stop sign and then attempted to get around the slow driver in front of her. When she saw that it was an elderly man, she felt bad. Embarrassed, she sank into her shoulders and lifted an apologetic hand as she zoomed past him. She made a left onto the expressway ramp and accelerated straight toward a solid wall of rush-hour traffic.
“Ugh!” She slapped the steering wheel, huffed and sat back. There was no chance she’d make it on time now.
Jade wanted to arrive early enough to scope out the other people in her cohort. Like most business events, it would start with twenty to thirty minutes of networking, she expected. She’d planned to look people up online via her phone in the parking lot, to see who they were and what companies they came from. But as she sat on the expressway, which resembled a parking lot, she knew there was no way to make that happen.
Who was there to blame but herself? Instead of stewing in irritation for the entire ride, Jade set the radio to a pop station and sang along with every song she knew. With a natural love for music, she had a thing for learning the words to her favorite songs. Music was more fun to listen to when you could sing along. Soon all her angst about being late melted away. She wasn’t even annoyed about the fact that she’d spent at least ten miles driving at no more than five miles per hour. She was on target to arrive at least a half hour late.
Jade’s tardy arrival at the country club was met by a plump young valet with a big smile and eyes full of promise. He gladly took her keys, promising to take good care of her “baby” as he squeezed behind the wheel and drove away.
Inside, she tried to enter quietly. Her heels clicked against the marble floor, giving her away. She tiptoed the rest of the way, avoiding contact between her spiked heels and the cold stone floor.
The woman at the registration table greeted her with a warm smile and whispered, “Welcome.”
Jade returned the greeting just as warmly and looked for the badge bearing her name. She wasn’t the only one late. She picked her badge up from the few still left scattered on the registration table.
Slowly, Jade pulled open the door to the banquet room where the reception was being held. A few heads turned in her direction. She hunched, as if hoping the people glancing over wouldn’t see her. Jade held the door until it shut with a quiet click. A gentleman greeted her and led her to an open seat. Up front at the podium, a refined woman with jet-black roots and platinum tips sharply angled in an asymmetric haircut stood in a polished navy pencil dress. Cheerfully, she welcomed the new cohort. Jade was glad she’d dressed just as smartly.
In the next half hour, Jade learned more about the program, which was being sponsored by one of the local universities. Upon completion, participants would receive a coveted certification in executive leadership, she was glad to learn. Next they heard from recent graduates, who shared their experiences. By the time they were done with presenting all the information, Jade could hardly contain her enthusiasm. Her pulse thumped and a wide smile seemed to be permanently painted across her lips. The organizers ended the formal portion of the presentation by encouraging everyone in the room to continue networking before closing remarks were delivered.
Jade narrowed her vision on the last woman who’d spoken about her journey, and headed in her direction. On her way, she met a waiter carrying a tray with glasses of white wine, who silently offered her one. Jade reached out, but found her hand colliding with another person reaching for the same glass. The sudden contact caused a little wine to spill over the rim. Jade jumped back.
Shaking the liquid from her hand, she apologized. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
The waiter handed her a napkin. She wiped her fingers and finally looked up into a piercing set of brown eyes that actually made her breath catch. Seconds passed as she took him in, from his long masculine fingers to his well-fitting suit, sexy lips, neat mother-of-pearl teeth, smooth skin and finally those mesmerizing eyes that threatened to siphon her breath away, leaving her a vacant airless shell. Damn! She gathered herself, embarrassed. She shook her head. “Again, my apologies.”
“No apologies necessary. Ladies first.” The man picked up a glass and handed it to her. Jade’s sight fixed on his strong, dark hand as it drew closer to her. She averted her gaze when he lifted his eyes to meet hers and smiled. Suddenly, the room felt warmer. He reached back to get a glass for himself. With a nod, he held it up and then sipped.
“Thanks! Please excuse me.” Jade angled her shoulder to pass between him and someone else standing nearby. For the first time, she felt how crowded the room was.
The breath-stealing man smiled as she walked away. She felt his eyes on her. Jade knew he was watching. She straightened her posture as she continued toward her target. When she finally wove her way there, a few other curious people surrounded the woman. She smiled at Jade, welcoming her into the conversation. The person next to Jade moved slightly, making room for her in the circle. The woman answered several questions about what she liked best about the program.
Jade got a chance to speak with her one-on-one and they exchanged business cards. Making her way around the room afterward, Jade spoke with more people, meeting some of her fellow program participants, previous grads, sponsoring company reps, facilitators and a few program coordinators. Before the night ended she’d collected more business cards and had spoken to most of the people in the room. Almost everyone except him. She purposely avoided talking to him. Well aware of his presence, she kept tabs on him through discreet glances. Jade noticed how the polished facades of some of the women all but dissolved under the magic of his dimpled smile. He had to be nothing but trouble. Jade wasn’t there for trouble.
Chapter 6
He felt her before he saw her. Nixon stepped into the room and spotted the woman from the night before in the corner, pouring coffee and cream, and remembered the jolt he’d felt the night before when their hands touched. As he watched her this morning, Nixon felt a current prickle the surface of his skin. He looked down at his hand and wondered if she had felt it, too. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. Not even with his ex-fiancée.
Though Nixon had avoided her, he’d watched her work the room last night. Occasionally, he had glanced over, swearing that she’d been looking his way. He wondered if she was part of the cohort or one of the facilitators. Being a fellow participant would put her close to him, and he didn’t like the simple way her presence tested him. He was a ladies’ man. Nixon wasn’t interested in putting that aside yet. Not while he was having so much fun.
Doling out cheerful morning greetings, Nixon looked for his name on the tented cardstock and binders at each table. Facilitators, two of them, were posted at the front, and participants were seated around a large square grouping of tables. Nixon set his briefcase beside the chair in his designated spot and headed to the table holding a heaping pile of bagels. He grabbed one loaded with sesame seeds. Hanging back, he waiting for his mystery woman to move away from the table where coffee, tea and juice were set out. She stood there for a few more moments, chatting with another woman.
Nixon noticed that this woman wasn’t smartly dressed in business gray or navy, like most of the other women. Her clothes were less forma
l, more stylish, with a slightly rebellious edge—an eclectic combination of business and personality. The bun piled at the crown of her head, the soft pink shirt with the peekaboo view of her bare shoulders, her dress pants and chic hot-pink heels told Nixon that she conformed to her own standards.
Her scent hit him. It was just like he’d remembered—a floral aroma. Pleasant. Nixon’s stomach rumbled. Was he hungry or was that reaction triggered by the memory of her scent? Quickly, he poured a cup of black coffee and returned to his spot with his bagel and a small serving of cream cheese. Tearing his focus away from her, he dived in on his bagel. She came and sat next to him. The tent card in front of her read Jade Chandler.
Jade Chandler. Nixon spoke the name in his head. Politely, she nodded and said a cool “Good morning,” as if she had heard him.
“Good morning.” He held his hand out. “Nixon Gaines.”
She had a strong handshake and her touch made that sensation rise up on his skin again.
“Nice to meet you.” She turned her attention to the coffee and croissant in front of her.
“Jade Chandler, huh?” Nixon lifted a brow and nodded. He had repeated her name just to taste it on his lips.
His mother cautioned him about women who had a certain effect on a man. Their lure was like the sticky silk of a spider’s web. Nixon couldn’t pull his attention away for too long. Jade challenged the ladies’ man in him. Only moments ago, he’d learned her name, said it and wanted to say it again.
“Good morning and welcome!” The voice boomed from a mature stout woman standing in front of the room. Her cheerful greeting caught everyone’s attention. She clapped her hands together. “We’re so excited to have you as our inaugural cohort for the Long Island region. The next several weeks—or months, I should say—will be both intense and thrilling. We have so much in store for you and look forward to what we will also learn from you. We’ll start by going around the room and introducing ourselves.” She gave instructions on what everyone should include in their introduction: names, titles, companies and one thing that each person expected to get out of the program.