The Mayor held up a hand. “It’s not necessary. I have full faith and trust in Ms. Flores. I know she won’t disappoint me.” He turned to her with an air of presumption. “Whatever she decides to say will be fine.”
“I agree.” Javier looked to her in silent conference. You getting all this?
Sydney nodded, but the fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled in revolt. How could she refuse his very forward request without insulting him, not to mention jeopardizing her position at JL Conventions? By the tone of his voice, it seemed Javier’s reputation was on the line as well. But this was not a job she wanted. While it was an important one, one that would look good on her résumé, she wanted nothing to do with it. Because if she flopped—her heart thumped hard in her chest—it would prove a red slash across the same.
“Ceremonies begin at three o’clock. They’d like us to be there at least an hour ahead of time. Does that work for your schedule?”
“Yes,” she heard herself say.
“Shall I send a car for you?”
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll meet you there at two.”
“Perfect.” Mayor Cortez waited expectantly and Sydney realized that was her cue to leave. Seemed the Mayor and Javier had other business to attend.
“Okay,” she murmured. Sliding the pen back in place, she closed her leather folder and tucked it under her arm. “Well that settles it then...” But it can’t be the end of it—there had to be some way around this fiasco! She only had to find it.
“Sydney?”
She turned to Javier and clamped notebook to her body. “Yes?”
“You’ll be meeting the planes this Saturday as they arrive, yes?”
“Yes, Javier. It’s on my schedule.”
“Oh really?” The Mayor perked at the news. “I’ll be there as well. Perhaps you’ll join me for a bite of lunch? That way we can discuss Sunday in further detail.”
Was that really necessary? Didn’t you just stand here and profess your trust in me not to disappoint? But staring at him, ignoring the leer in his eyes, she refrained. No sense inciting the matter. “Perhaps,” she said and forced a smile but fumed under her breath, no way in hell. Unless it was to deliver an excuse out of Sunday’s speaking event.
Chapter Three
Sydney stood outside the entrance of Olives, the martini bar located in a hotel lounge on Brickell Key, convenient for both her and her friend Samantha Rawlings. Arms crossed, she tapped her foot as three more women entered, avoiding their appraising glances. Olives had become the place for urban singles to gather after work and was already hopping. She craned her head toward the interior, dismayed by the number of people collecting around the bar. Even a Monday couldn’t keep this crowd away. At this rate, they might not find a seat!
She sighed heavily. Or maybe because it was Monday, everyone felt the need to pile in for a drink. If their day was half as bad as hers, they would. The meeting with Javier had only been the beginning. Business soured from there with Lisa’s call informing her that five hundred of her info packets had gone missing.
Missing? They were there Friday! How did one lose five hundred info packets in the space of a weekend? Lisa blamed it on the cleaning crew, but Sydney had her doubts. From the shallow tenor of Lisa’s defense, Sydney suspected it may have been a miscount on All American’s part. But the reason behind the discrepancy didn’t matter. Getting the packets assembled and organized did. To be on the safe side, she planned to hand deliver and oversee said packaging herself. She heaved a sigh. As though she had time for such baby-sitting.
Sydney caught sight of Sam as she entered through the dark wooden entrance doors to the lobby and waved. Colorful layers of sheer skirt fabric cut above the knee danced about her legs as she hurried over. Feminine and stylish, Sam’s cropped red jacket kept the ensemble professional. Make that summer professional, or Sam’s version of casual Friday on Monday. She, on the other hand, opted for her standard straight skirt and V-cut tank. Today’s shade was turquoise, one of her all-time favorites.
Sam breezed across travertine floors buffed to a lustrous shine and pecked Sydney’s cheek with a kiss. “I’m not late, am I?”
“Not even a second,” she returned, swallowed up by a rush of Sam’s spicy perfume. Amazing. Six o’clock and the woman remained fresh faced and fully scented, her full lips painted deep red, her eyes lined in dark brown.
“Good. Because I hear a martini calling my name and you know I don’t like to keep those sweet babies waiting.”
Sydney laughed. “When don’t martinis call your name?”
She slapped Sydney with a head-on gaze, one of the few women who could look her eye-to-eye and said, “I know, right? It’s a curse.”
“Try blessing,” Sydney offered quietly.
“Sounds like someone needs a drink.”
“I need more than a drink, but we can start there.”
Sam slipped an arm through Sydney’s and waltzed her toward the bar. “Well, let’s get started, shall we?”
Moving among the sleek and young, Sydney noted that most men had discarded the formality of jacket and tie, their collared shirts opened at the neck as they caroused the crowd. Women remained decked out in full business dress—if you could call some of these outfits business—with their ultra-short skirts and plunging necklines. And to think she felt like she was pushing the edge of decorum going sleeveless. But these women were on the hunt, much like their male counterparts. Hair and makeup had obviously been touched and redone, accelerating them into full femme-fatale mode. Where meat markets weren’t Sydney’s style, Olives was only ten minutes from home and offered any martini you could dream up—particularly important this evening.
“Bad day at the office?” Sam asked, checking out male patrons as they passed.
“Horribly bad day at the office.”
“We’re in luck.” Sam pointed. Two vacant seats at the far end of the bar.
“Good.” She didn’t feel like standing, but she would. So long as she had a drink in her hand, she would stand for hours.
The bartender eyed them as they approached. Slim and very Latin, he slid two napkins on the black granite bar top in front of them as they took possession of the upholstered stools. “What will it be, ladies?”
Sam hooked her purse on the chair back and told him, “I’m ready for a stiff one.”
He smiled at her request and hinted that oh yes, he understood her ulterior meaning. Seemed he too, could go for the same. With a sexy swirl of accent he asked, “What’s your flavor?”
She smiled broadly. “Well, you’re not bad for a start.”
He gave Sam a playful smile, though his eyes assumed a sultry heat—like a man suddenly on the prowl. Seemed someone was accustomed to attention from the ladies. “You are a fantastic start, beautiful lady.”
Sam grinned. “Gin martini, straight up, three olives.” She paused just long enough for him to turn to Sydney for her order before adding, “And make it dirty.”
His smile took on a lusty hue as he replied, “But of course, darling. It’s the only way.”
“Smart man,” she said.
Reminding the two of her presence, Sydney cut in, “I’ll have a mango martini, please.”
The bartender slid his eyes in her direction and smiled, lingering, as though to remind her he hadn’t forgotten that there was yet another beautiful woman in his presence. “Your pleasure is my command,” he said and whisked away to reach into the fridge behind the counter.
Nothing like smearing it on thick, Sydney thought, then said to Sam, “And what are you doing flirting with the bartender? I thought you and Vic were serious.”
“We are,” she said, her gaze tacked to the man’s rear as he pulled out the slender bottle of gin.
“How would he feel if he knew you were making eyes at the bartender?”
Sam turned to Sydney and smiled. “I’m not blind, I’m dating. Besides, Vic’s not worried about me.” She gestured toward the bartender and said,
“That young man there is just a cougar snack.”
“A what?”
“A cougar snack. You know...something to tide me over until I see my man again.” Sam winked, then rapped her fingers against the bar top. “Now tell me about this day of yours. We need to flush these toxins out of your system and that martini of yours is only the beginning. Talk to me.”
Sydney shook her head. Too true. “Javier expects me to escort Team Florida during the opening ceremonies and then say a few words to the crowd.”
“Perfect! Which reminds me—I need four more tickets for the event.”
“As an addition to the four you already requested?”
“Yes.” Large brown eyes cast a look of pleading innocence. “Is that too many?”
“If you plan on keeping your sanity it is, but as far as the number of tickets goes, I can get them.” There were some perks to this gig. Front row seats, VIP tickets—it was the least she could do for a friend and the kids would have a ball.
The bartender strolled up with their drinks and deftly placed them on the bar before them. “Here are two gorgeous martinis for two gorgeous women.”
The man was quick, she’d give him that.
Sam’s gaze bounced from her drink to him and said, “Definitely gorgeous.”
He received the intended compliment as though it were a highly bestowed honor. “I won’t be far,” he assured her, his accent heavy, his tone provocative.
“Let’s hope not.”
Sydney grasped the cone-shaped glass filled with ice-cold, orange liquid and shook her head. “Poor Vic.”
“Poor Vic, nothing. The man has me tied up like a West African voodoo doll tucked away in his front pocket and he knows it. It’s not my fault I have tendencies.” She brought the glass to her lips and pulled in a healthy swallow of gin. “Damn, he’s good.”
“Who—Vic or the bartender?”
“Both.”
Sydney laughed. Sam never hungered for male companionship, that was for sure! From the day Diego introduced the two, she learned Sam’s weekends were lined with good-looking men and most of them younger than herself where she on the other hand usually slugged through dry spells without a man in sight. But dating never seemed to work out for her the way it did for Sam. Thoughts of Javier curdled her mood. Maybe she should try a younger man. Older ones seemed to enjoy the control factor a little too much.
“So what’s up, Syd? The big events are days away, yet you seem like you could care less. What gives?”
Tasting the vodka-infused mango juice, she savored the ice-cold liquid as it cut across her tongue and down her throat, leaving a distinct aftertaste of sugar in its wake. Damn good, if you asked her. Sweet and potent, worthy of near pharmaceutical labeling. Lingering over the finish in her mouth, the streams of calm pummeling through her muscles, she looked at Sam and considered her situation. “You know this is not my first choice of events and now that Javier’s dropped this little speaking surprise in my lap my troubles are compounded.”
“But opening ceremonies are a big deal. The whole week is huge.” Sam waved a hand through the air. “You said so yourself. Aren’t you looking forward to it at all?”
Did it make her a bad person because she preferred to be working with celebrity golfers rather than special needs athletes? Wanted to immerse herself in the world of high brass sponsors, not small town athletics? Kids weren’t her thing. Sure the Special Olympics were world renowned, a big operation, but it wasn’t like the regular Olympics where millions and millions of people tuned in. It was geared toward a specific segment of the population. Was it a character flaw that she didn’t want to be included?
Maybe. But it didn’t change the facts. She wasn’t looking forward to the upcoming events and she wasn’t about to pretend differently with Sam. “Not really.”
“But I don’t get it. Why not?”
She glanced at Sam. “I’d rather have worked the Celebrity Golf Classic.”
“Want to rub elbows with the beautiful people?”
“I couldn’t care less about the society of plastics.” One look around this bar and it seemed women were resorting to the knife and needle at younger and younger ages. Even the men looked like they took way too much interest in their looks. Were they injecting? Implanting silicone?
“Now, now. Nothing wrong with people wanting to look their best.”
Sydney withdrew her gaze from the people surrounding her and growled under her breath. No, but some people went too far for their looks. All some women cared about was capturing a man’s attention and were none too shy about using whatever surgical procedure or body part it took to do so. And where did it get them?
Nowhere. Life was about action, accomplishment. It was about doing. “I want to work the events that can take my career places. There are some big sponsors associated with that golf tournament and I wanted to get in front of them.”
“Handling these sporting events should give you some pretty good exposure, if you ask me.”
Yes, exposure. Javier had mentioned as much. It was precisely the exposure she didn’t care for.
“Aren’t you always trying to get noticed so you can climb the proverbial ladder?”
“I’m a glorified assistant on this one, Sam. The Special Olympics organization is a great group, don’t get me wrong, but they take care of most everything. They don’t even need me. And now Javier wants me to play the Barbie doll for display?”
“A talking one at that!”
Sydney glared.
Sam shrugged, brown eyes twinkling with challenge. “Just say no.”
“Then watch him give away more of my events, including my promotion?” She turned back to her drink. “No thank you.”
“You referring to the Morgan thing?”
“Yes. The golf show was mine. Javier knew I wanted that job but he gave it to her instead.” How did he expect her to earn a promotion if he refused to give her the important events? Was he sabotaging her on purpose? She suspected Morgan may be undermining her—again—but Javier? She didn’t understand him. On the one hand, he claimed he still cared about her, yet proceeded to rip the floor clear out from under her. At this rate, she didn’t stand a chance.
“Do you think he’s sleeping with her?”
The question felt like a punch. “I don’t know,” Sydney spat. “Javier doesn’t share his private life with me.” Not anymore, anyway. “They probably are. The woman will do anything to get to the top—lie, cheat, steal.” Morgan was a bitter loser. It wouldn’t surprise Sydney if she were using Javier to get the events she wanted by sleeping with him. The last straw came when Morgan lost the International Finance Convention to Sydney last year. She accused her of using unfair advantage because of her relationship with Javier. She wasn’t. Morgan was new to the company and Sydney had seniority over her. Oh, but the venom spitting from her back then over the injustice of it all. Ironic how Morgan was now doing the very thing she accused Sydney of.
Sam nodded. “I remember.”
“The point remains, he gave my event to her.”
“Maybe he had good reason.”
“More like taking advantage of his relationship with me.” His old relationship with her. But these days the tables were turned. He was keeping assignments from her rather than doling them out in her favor. Sydney downed a generous swallow of her drink. He’d been getting back at her ever since the break up and she was getting pretty fed up with it.
“How about you’re the best he’s got and the Special Olympics is a major client.”
Savoring the heat of alcohol as it spread through her chest, Sydney mocked with a smile, “Nice try.”
“It’s the truth. I don’t see Morgan splitting atoms at the kitchen table, if you know what I mean.”
“Kim could have done it. Jerry could have done it. Any number of the associates could have handled this event. It’s an easy gig.” Except Charlie. He would have been the worst person for the job. “Javier chose me because Morgan wanted my
golf tournament, but also because of my connection to you.”
“Me?” Sam flinched at the hit. “How am I to blame for this?”
“Because your Big Sisters group raved about me after your annual picnic last summer, remember?”
Sam softened instantly at the mention of her kids, her eyes widening in acknowledgement. “Well, they did like you.”
“Great. And now I’ll have more kids to like me.”
Sam chuckled and set her glass down on the bar. “Listen, the climb up the ladder is riddled with pitfalls, peppered with opinion. Your job is to hold on tight and hope you’re not allergic as you cling to the rungs.”
“Perfect.”
Bumped from behind, a petite brunette quickly chirped, “Sorry.”
Sydney nodded absently.
“Everything happens for a reason and a purpose. Just remember that.”
Yes, well, Sam’s helpful idioms and positive thinking were doing nothing to solve her problem. She didn’t know anything about special needs kids. She barely had experience with regular kids let alone those in need of extra attention. She preferred mainstream events, the fast-track to connections. At least give her cutting edge technology and shiny objects. But kids? Why pick her for these games? Marinating in her misery, she pulled a sip from her tangy sweet martini. To punish her, that’s why.
“So Diego tells me you and Alana were fantastic this weekend.”
Grateful for the easier terrain, Sydney replied, “Placed first, though Alana has a souvenir for her troubles. Sprained her ankle during the last game.”
“That’s what he said. Is she okay?”
“She will be. Carlos is waiting on her hand and foot.”
Sam returned a sly smile. “Vic would wait on me hand and foot if I asked him.”
“I’m sure he would,” Sydney replied with more than a pinch of longing. Victor Marin was head over heels in love with Sam, the two meeting in the wake of personal tragedy for him. It was a heartache she couldn’t imagine living through let alone surviving with the ability to love again. What he had to endure was yet another reason not to have children. But Vic had survived and, with Sam’s help, found justice. And Sam was right. Vic would do most anything she asked, his devotion deep and strong. Which gave her pause. If only she could find a man like him. A man who meant what he said, remained committed to a fault. She gazed at her brightly-colored drink. In her life men didn’t have a great track record when it came to fidelity or long-term commitment. They moved in and moved on.
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