If Only For One Night

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  But when she was buckled in, I leaned over and said, “Good night,” then closed the door. I stood there, until she started the ignition, and then, I waved and trotted to my truck.

  I didn’t breathe until I got inside and then, I blew out a long breath. What had I been thinking?

  Since before we even exchanged vows, I’d been faithful to Monica. Once we were engaged, that was it for me. And I was good with that. I wasn’t one of those guys who thought being with one woman for the rest of my life was a prison sentence. I was just the opposite. I was thrilled that for the rest of my life Monica would be the only woman I’d be with and I’d be her only man.

  If I had to put any kind of bet on this, I would have put all of my money on Angelique being just as faithful, as I’d been, too.

  So what was this about? Where did I want it to go?

  “No,” I said as I started the ignition. “We’re just friends. With a connection. That’s all I want this to be.”

  And I told myself that lie, all the way to my home.

  CHAPTER 11

  Angelique

  Day three. And just like on Tuesday and Wednesday, it was so hard for me to roll out of bed. Tuesday, I’d had a bit of a hangover, not just from all the wine I’d shared with Blu, but also from not getting home until almost one in the morning. It wasn’t until I’d been driving home that I realized I was going to have to give Preston some kind of explanation — not that he ever gave me one. He just always said, “I was working,” and that was what I’d decided I’d tell him when I strolled into our home well after midnight after hanging out with another man.

  But it turned out that Preston didn’t need an explanation because he wasn’t home. He didn’t do his own strolling through the door until after I’d undressed and had been in bed for at least an hour. He’d tiptoed into our bedroom, sighing with exhaustion, but I didn’t turn over. I’d pretended to be asleep and he pretended to believe that I was asleep.

  Then, he’d awakened and left before the sun even thought about rising, so I never got the chance to say anything else to him about what was going on. I didn’t feel as bad as I usually did. When Preston ignored me this way, I’d get Sheryl and Cassidy on a three-way call.

  But there was no need for a girlfriend intervention because I had Blu. Our time at the wine bar had been exhilarating. And since then, he hadn’t stopped calling.

  I wasn’t sure that I would have been able to drag myself out of bed on Tuesday morning if Blu hadn’t called. From that first moment when I heard his voice, I thanked God that I had given him my number:

  At first, I thought it was the alarm, but even when I slapped the button on the radio, the ringing continued. I moaned as, with only one eye open, I patted around the nightstand for my cell, thinking that I really needed to change my ringtone to something more obscure in the mornings.

  I pressed the phone to my ear. “Hello?” And then right away, I wondered if I looked as bad as I sounded.

  A whisper came through the phone, “I’m sorry to be calling you….”

  My eyes popped open.

  The voice continued, “But I sent you a message and texted and when you didn’t respond, I was worried.”

  Blu? It was a question in my mind so, I said his name into the phone.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Again, I apologize….”

  I pushed myself up in the bed. “Why are you whispering?”

  “Oh.” His voice returned to normal. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why do you keep apologizing?”

  I heard him take a breath. “First, are you alone?”

  I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me and I was so grateful for that. “Yes.”

  “Okay.” He exhaled. “I didn’t want to call you while you were with your husband.”

  I almost rolled my eyes. “There’s little chance of that.”

  He didn’t acknowledge my sarcasm. “I just wanted to make sure you were fine. I texted you last night; I should have told you to text me when you got home.”

  “Oh, I was fine. I just feel a bit hungover now.”

  “Really?”

  “Not from the wine. Just from everything. I don’t even want to go into the office today,” I groaned.

  “Come on, Angelique. I told you, something is going to work out.”

  “What? We tried to figure it out last night.”

  “And we’ll just keep trying.”

  I slid back under the covers. “I don’t want to face the girls.” I pulled the duvet over my head.

  “Don’t say anything to them yet. You still have a week and you don’t know what God has planned for you. Plus,” he paused, “I’m a real good problem solver. We’ll keep working on this. Now, get up.”

  I didn’t know why, but his demand made me smile. “And if I don’t?”

  “Don’t let me come over there….”

  He was kidding, but I wanted to tell him to come on. Instead, I pushed aside the duvet and said, “Okay.”

  “Call me when you get to the office.”

  And that’s just what I did. I’d rolled out of bed, dressed and made it to work as if I wasn’t giving up. I’d stepped into the office full of faux-cheer, and my demeanor even pumped Camille up.

  “You’re right,” she said. “Let’s do this. There has to be a way.”

  Yesterday was just like Tuesday. Blu called me in the morning with a rallying cry, sending me to the office with such hope. Camille and I brainstormed again, spoke to Walker, our consultant who worked with us to get sponsors, and tried to remember that one missing asset that we hadn’t thought about yesterday. And then last night, I’d come home — with nothing.

  In the two days that had passed, I hadn’t even talked to Preston about it. He’d heard nothing about Black Girls Magic since Monday because this week, we hadn’t even spent an hour together. He ran in late, he ran out early, and kissed me a couple of times in between.

  The only highlight of my week was Blu. We’d left the app behind and now, we talked (mostly) by phone and every time I heard his voice, he was encouraging. Every time, he gave me hope.

  But now, it was Thursday and though I had tried, I was just postponing the inevitable. I wasn’t going to get this money, so I needed to get up, put on my CEO panties, and act like I was in charge. I needed to make some decisions, disappoint a few people, even possibly, cancel the event. Maybe I could just do the Friday night social and forego the gala and the scholarship presentations.

  My heart was so heavy as I rolled out of bed, but what was the shocker was almost bumping into Preston when I stumbled into the bathroom.

  “Whoa,” I said, stepping back. “What are you doing here?”

  He chuckled. “I live here, babe.” He wrapped his tie around his neck.

  “Could’ve fooled me.” I grabbed my toothbrush from the holder, then spread toothpaste across the bristles.

  “I know, I haven’t been present much, have I?” He spoke to me through the mirror.

  My answer to him: I glared at his reflection and pressed the on-button, sending my electric toothbrush spinning.

  “I’m really sorry,” Preston said above the humming sound. Looking at my reflection, he tightened the knot of his tie. “But I’ll be home early tonight and then, we can brainstorm about what we can do with your foundation.” He kissed my cheek and I kept my eyes on him — through the mirror. “Maybe we’ll even go out to dinner or something.”

  All I did was move my toothbrush from the left side of my mouth to the right — and scrubbed harder.

  Preston grinned before he stepped out of the bathroom, not having any kind of clue that if this toothbrush only had a jagged edge….

  There was no reason to tell him that tonight would be too late. No reason to tell him that his absence did nothing to make my heart grow fonder. No reason because he wouldn’t have heard me anyway. He never heard me.

  When I was sure that Preston was at least out of our bedroom, if not already out of our house, I jumped into the
shower. I longed to stay there all day, but I kept thinking, I was the CEO. There was a reason why Black Girls Magic was as successful as it was — whenever I was faced with adversity, I turned my fear into fight. I never went down, I always stood up. And today was going to be no different.

  This morning, Blu didn’t call until I was in my car.

  “Good morning,” he said, his voice filled with so much cheer, I thought I had missed a special holiday or something.

  I wanted to ask him what was so good about it, but I refused to be negative. “Well, it’s going to be good. I’m going to make the move today.”

  I braced myself for Blu’s motivational assault. But he surprised me with, “I understand. You held on for as long as you could.”

  I breathed. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For not trying to talk me out of it. Because I need to take care of this today.”

  “Well, I know that you put everything into the game. You can never be upset when you’ve tried your best.”

  “Thanks for saying that, but it’s still going to be tough. I’m going to go through the schedule and the money that we have and see what we can salvage and see what has to go.”

  “Don’t get down on yourself, Angelique. You still have so much to offer these young ladies.”

  I needed to get off this phone before I asked this dude to marry me. “Okay, well, let me go. I’ve got to get my head right, get my words straight to keep everyone motivated — starting with Camille.”

  “Call me when you get there.”

  “It’ll probably be later. I have a lot to take care of today.”

  “Okay. Whenever. I just can’t wait to hear your voice.”

  Yup, I was ready to buy this guy a wedding ring. We said goodbye and then, I did what I told Blu that I needed to do. I turned off the radio and settled in the quiet, trying to find the words that I needed to say to these girls. I could use this as a teaching moment — disappointment happens. We all have to live through it. What separates the successful from the unsuccessful is how we deal with it. Unsuccessful people sit down, successful folks use it to stand up.

  I sighed as I swung the car into the parking lot. Now all I had to do was heed my own words and that was what I kept telling myself as I walked into the building and took the elevator to my office.

  By the time I opened the door to my office, I was ready. And I was going to start with Camille. I’d practice on her, lift her spirits and then move onto the girls.

  I took a breath before I pushed open the door, pasted a grin on my face, stepped inside, faced Camille…and her grin was bigger than mine.

  “Hey!” Camille popped out of her chair. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  Standing next to her desk was Walker, our consultant. And he didn’t look like he sounded when I spoke with him yesterday. When I first told him our sponsor had pulled out, I thought I had just about made a grown man cry. But right now, there were no signs of tears. His face was shining as bright as Camille’s.

  Their grins weren’t contagious because they made me frown. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m so glad you’re here.” Camille came around from the back of her desk.

  “Ummm….I work here.” My glance shifted between the two. “Did someone put an extra jolt of something in the coffee this morning?” Camille and Walker were beginning to look goofy to me.

  Walker said, “We've been waiting on you.”

  "Yeah. Sorry I'm late,” I said. “I was taking my time working it out in my head. Because today, we have to begin executing Plan B. I want to get the word out to the girls first and I was thinking that I would do that by….”

  “But you’re not going to have to do that,” Camille spouted. “You’re not going to have to do anything!”

  “Yeah,” Walker said, “you don’t have to tell them anything because everything is going to happen.”

  "What are you talking about?" My eyes darted between the two.

  "Let me tell her.” Walker stepped toward me. “The conference is going to be move forward because….”

  “We got the money,” Camille jumped in.

  Walker faced Camille, frowned, and almost pouted.

  "What?" I said.

  "We got the money,” Camille repeated, ignoring Walker’s glare.

  I put my briefcase down. “Okay, the two of you…you better start explaining.”

  “We got another sponsor,” Walker said. “So we have the money. The twenty-five thousand dollars, plus some.”

  “Shut the front door," I exclaimed. "How? When? Walker," I turned to him, “what did you do?”

  He shrugged. “I wish I could take credit for this.”

  Camille said, “You have some powerful prayers. You could probably pray peace into the Middle East.”

  “What?” Now I wondered if these two were playing with me because they weren’t making any kind of sense. “Please. Stop this. Just explain.”

  “Okay,” Camille said. I was sure she felt my impatience because she got serious. “When I got here about an hour ago, before I even sat down, a courier came in and handed me this envelope. It had the foundation's name written on it, but no return address. So, I asked him who it was from. He said he didn’t know, he was just told to deliver it and I had to sign for it. So I did, he left, I opened it because it said 'urgent', saw the check, and almost fainted. I called Walker right away.”

  He picked up the story. “I rushed over here, but when she showed me the letter and the check, I couldn’t figure it out. We figured you knew what this was about.” Walker handed me the oversized envelope.

  I pressed back the flap and pulled out the letter. The check was wrapped in the folds of the paper and I studied that first. It was made out to Black Girls Magic. For thirty-thousand dollars. And with a signature that was unreadable, unless one could decipher the meaning of a couple of squiggly (and a couple of humps) lines.

  My breaths came quickly as I read:

  Please accept this donation for the good work that you’re doing with Black Girls Magic. There is no need for any public acknowledgement nor any need to contact us. Our foundation supports good causes and we admire the work that you’re doing.

  That was it. No signature. No closing. Nothing to tie this money to anyone except the name that was on the check: The Taylor Foundation.

  I felt a mixture of emotions. Like complete exhilaration, but then, some doubt. Because who would give this kind of money without some kind of acknowledgement? “They said we’re doing good work.”

  “You are,” Walker said. “So you don’t know the Taylor Foundation?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve never heard of them.” Again, I looked at Walker.

  But he gave me a blank stare. “It’s not one of my connections,” he said. “If it were, I would have called them up on Tuesday when you first called me. But there are a million foundations out there.”

  “Well, I was doing a little research just as you came in.” Camille walked back around her desk and pointed to her computer monitor. I leaned over her shoulder. She said, “The Taylor Foundation was established in nineteen-sixty-three for the empowerment of African-American girls and women," Camille said. “There are a list of some of the programs they’ve supported, but it kinda stops like about five or six years ago. I don’t know if they just stopped giving or if they became more private and haven’t been sharing their information.”

  “The Taylor Foundation.” I looked at the check again.

  “It makes sense that they would support us. I’m just glad they heard about Black Girls Magic,” Walker said.

  “Yeah,” Camille added, “just the right amount of money, just in the nick of time.”

  Just the right amount of money. “I want…I wish I could call and thank them.”

  Walker shrugged. “There are lots of philanthropists who remain anonymous because to them, it’s about the good work not the recognition.”

  “I know…but, I just wish….”
>
  “All I wish is that you would give me that check so that I can run to the bank and deposit it.”

  I scanned the letter again, stared at the check another moment, then grinned and gave them both to Camille. “What are you still doing here?”

  We all laughed together and I was just ecstatic that the only email I had to send to my girls was, “Get ready to slay!”

  I almost skipped into my office, thinking that God was so good and the Taylor Foundation was, too!

  CHAPTER 12

  Blu

  Pulling into the driveway, I sat in my car for a moment. How many hours had passed since I spoke with Angelique? Seven? Eight? And she hadn’t called yet. I felt such mixed emotions…exhilaration, but a bit of apprehension. Exhilaration, because I’d done the right thing. But on the other side, had I been right to support Black Girls Magic with funds from Monica’s family’s foundation?

  That was where my apprehension came from. Usually, we didn’t support a program unless it went through the board — even when it was something as little as thirty-thousand dollars. But Angelique needed this money quickly, and Monica and I could disperse anything that was less than fifty-thousand dollars without board approval.

  We’d been very active with the foundation when we first married. I’d been impressed when Monica told me about her family’s charity. It had started back in the sixties with a major endowment from her great grandfather. Timothy Taylor had bequeathed two million dollars to start the foundation, money he’d earned from oil wells his family owned in Oklahoma.

  For the first fifty years, the Taylor Foundation had been everywhere, supporting school programs and civic events that lifted African-American boys and girls. But since Monica had taken over in 2010, her illness had gotten in the way of the foundation. I was the one who’d kept it afloat by contributing to one cause a year, which was what was needed to consider it active.

  The timing had been perfect with Black Girls Magic — we hadn’t made a donation this year, so I knew the board would have no problem since I was the CFO. I’d write up the proposal this weekend and submit it for the foundation’s records.