by Dara Girard
“No, it’s more complicated than that. But I understand it.”
He met her gaze, searching. “You do?”
“I remember when I was in elementary school I used to cringe when my mother would come to pick me up.”
“Why?”
“Because most times she’d call me by my Yoruba name and her accent at the time was so thick people couldn’t understand her. Sometimes I’d catch my friends giggling at certain words she said. What was worse was when she knew I was embarrassed—it nearly broke my heart. She asked me if I was ashamed of her, and I lied. But at the time, I was, because I so desperately wanted to fit in. I didn’t want jollof rice and okra in my lunchbox. I wanted peanut butter and jelly sandwiches just like everyone else. But I had to learn that she was my mother, though I hid her away as I got older. I took rides from friends instead of having one of my parents pick me up. Because, like you, I didn’t want anyone to judge them, and I could see in strangers’ eyes how they saw them—as African immigrants and the stereotypes that go with that. They didn’t know that in Nigeria my mother had been a homemaker and my father a government worker who both studied, but in the United States she became a preschool teacher and he a construction worker.”
“Those are still fine careers.”
“But not the same.”
“No.”
Hannah glanced at her watch and stood. “I should be going.”
Amal didn’t want her to go. He wanted her to stay the night so he could kiss her again and slowly peel away the black dress she wore and find out if her bra unlatched from the back or the front.
Amal walked her to the door, hating every step that brought her closer to leaving him. “Thanks again for what you did.”
She winked. “You can add it to my fee.”
Amal followed her into the hallway. “So you’re still my lawyer?” he asked, trying to sound casual although he could feel his chest tighten.
“For now.” She pushed the elevator button. “But I’m still considering my options.”
“When will you decide permanently?”
She shrugged. “I’ll let you know.”
Amal flexed his fingers to keep them from forming into a fist. “You have two days.”
“I prefer four.” The elevator door opened and she stepped inside.
“Three.”
She turned to him, a slow smile spreading on her face, her brown eyes bright with mischief. She wiggled four fingers as the elevator door slowly closed.
Amal rested his head against it. He had it bad. He wanted her as his lawyer and as his woman, and that definitely wasn’t going to happen. He couldn’t let it. He banged the door with his head. He had to snap out of it. He had to remain distant and professional. A partner and a colleague, nothing more. He straightened, taking a deep breath and feeling more in control. He turned and glanced down and saw an earring. One of Hannah’s loop earrings must have fallen out. He picked it up. It suited her. Elegant with a bit of flair. He held the earring gently in the palm of his hand, knowing it was costume jewelry but not caring. He wondered if she liked dancing, concerts or dinner cruises. What was her favorite dish? He closed the earring in his fist. It didn’t matter. He’d never know. He shoved the earring into his trouser pocket and returned to his condo.
“Oh, has she left already?” his mother asked while meeting him in the foyer. She looked refreshed from the shower she had taken, as if the nightmare of the evening hadn’t happened.
“Yes.” He clicked the door shut, resisting the urge to slam it. Four days. He had to wait four days for Hannah’s reply.
“Oh, that’s a shame. Did you get her number?”
“What?”
“You’d better have because she’s perfect for you. You must have noticed.”
“Mom—”
“She’s beautiful, smart, caring and—”
He rested against the door and shook his head. “Do you have any idea who that woman was?”
“Yes, I told you. Her name is Hannah, but I didn’t get a last name. That’s your job. I hope you got her full name and number and scheduled a date. She’s wonderful and just the type you need.”
“I told you I’m not—”
“Forget about not dating right now. You can’t miss this opportunity. I even made her stay so that you’d get a chance to meet her. A woman like that doesn’t come in a man’s life every day.”
“She’s also my lawyer.”
Doreen shook her head. “No, she’s not.”
“Yes, she is.”
Doreen frowned. “But that can’t be right. That pretty little girl—”
“She’s not a little girl.”
“—can’t be the one you hired to beat the Walkers. She’ll get swallowed up.”
“She’s tougher than she looks.”
“She’s younger than you. How much experience has she had?”
“That doesn’t mean she can’t win.”
“But—”
Amal squeezed his eyes shut. “Mom, you’re missing the point.” He stared at her. “Of all the women in the world, you had to have one of your episodes with her.”
“Amal...I’m so sorry. I never would have guessed. I knew you were desperate for representation, but I didn’t expect you to go get a young, inexperienced...”
Amal held up his hand and shook his head, his voice low and steady. “Underestimate her at your peril.” He pushed himself from the door and walked to the kitchen, hating the restless feeling assailing him. “But you know what? It’s good that you see her that way. It gives her the advantage and she knows how to use it.”
“You’ve seen her in action?”
“I can imagine.” Yes, he could imagine a lot about her, but nothing that he could say aloud.
“She has a great figure,” Doreen said, as if reading his mind.
Amal felt his face grow warm. His mother knew him too well. “It doesn’t matter. I need her to see me in a certain light—as strong and in control, and tonight I wasn’t. She may reconsider representing me.”
Doreen’s face fell. “Because of me?”
He knew he couldn’t blame his mother for this. The Walker case was his fault, not hers, and he’d lost his temper with Hannah, not her. If Hannah decided to take the Walkers up on their offer, he didn’t have the leverage to stop her. He hadn’t given her a reason to stay. “No,” he said with regret. “Because of me.”
* * *
He deserved better. Hannah sat on the park bench and absently watched a group of kids playing soccer. She hadn’t slept well last night, not just because she’d lost one of her favorite pair of earrings, but because she couldn’t stop thinking about Amal. He deserved better representation than her. He deserved someone who wasn’t conflicted about his character. Someone who dealt with facts and not emotions. She wanted to be neutral but couldn’t be. One moment he could make her temper ignite and then just as easily charm it away. If she took the Walkers up on their offer, she wouldn’t have to deal with her mixed-up feelings and everything would turn out all right because she’d still get the money she needed for repairing her parents’ house.
But then Amal wouldn’t have anyone. But maybe no one was better than someone who had doubts. It was unfair to lie to him about her belief in him. She knew the portrait Martha had painted of him as a ruthless businessman and mama’s boy was an exaggeration, but she also knew there was a seed of truth. There were sides to him she knew she hadn’t seen. She didn’t trust herself or her intentions. And yet she knew that Martha’s intentions were far from pure and her dark side was likely more vicious than his. But what did Martha really want? Did she really want to offer Hannah a warning, or was there something she was afraid of?
If Martha expected to win, why did she need to make threats? There was something more
to the story, but Hannah knew finding it out could mean a nasty battle—one she could fail at.
But she didn’t like to fail, and she knew Amal didn’t, either. She may have muddled feelings for Amal, but she was certain that she didn’t trust or like Martha Walker. She would stick by him. He was her right choice. Martha may consider herself a star and Amal a rock, but Hannah knew a star could burn bright and then fade away, while a rock could last for centuries. She’d tie her dreams to a rock and see where it would take her.
* * *
It had been two days since he’d heard from Hannah, and he was already slowly going crazy. Amal adjusted the setting on his stationary bike for a steeper incline and stronger resistance. He needed to work out his frustration. He was glad the gym wasn’t too crowded although it was late afternoon. He wiped some sweat from dripping into his eyes. This wasn’t like him. He didn’t wait on anyone. He should be looking for alternatives. He should be the one in control—making her dance to his tune. But the awful fact was he didn’t want a replacement. He wanted her.
“Why am I not surprised to find you here?” Hector said, leaning on the empty bike next to Amal’s. “What’s up?”
“The Walkers got to Hannah.”
Hector’s mouth fell open. “What? That fast? Bonnie didn’t tell me that.”
Amal frowned at him. “Who’s Bonnie?”
“Hannah’s assistant. We’ve been seeing each other.”
“Since when?”
“It’s a casual thing. Relax. Tell me about Hannah.”
“Like I said, the Walkers got to her.”
“And she took the bait?”
“She’s thinking about it.”
“Then what are you doing here? You should be at her place changing her mind.”
“She has four days to decide.”
Hector nodded. “Ah...you gave her a deadline to put on the pressure and let her know that you don’t need her.”
No. She set the deadline to let me know she doesn’t need me. “Something like that.”
“What are you going to do now?”
Amal stopped pedaling and rested against the handlebars. “Go home. She has two more days.”
“Shouldn’t you offer her something more?”
“I’m not going to beg.” Even though he was close to wanting to.
“Will you be able to make it today?”
“No,” Amal said, remembering the family picnic Hector had invited him to.
“We’ll miss having you.”
“Another time.”
Hector patted him on the back. “Talk to you Monday then?”
“Yes,” Amal said, heading for the locker room. He should wait two more days, but he couldn’t. He had to see her.
Chapter 7
Hannah wasn’t surprised when Amal walked into her office that Friday afternoon. She’d been expecting him. She knew he wasn’t a man who liked to be kept waiting. However, Hannah was surprised by how happy she was to see him. “How can I help you?”
He sat down and placed an object on her desk. “I wanted to return this.”
Hannah smiled at the sight of her lost earring. “Oh,, good, you found it. Thank you.” She reached for it.
He moved it out of reach. “You can thank me another way.”
“How?”
“By giving me your answer.”
“I have two more days to consider.”
Amal shook his head. “You don’t need that long to decide. You’re a quick thinker, and by the expression on your face I bet you’ve already made up your mind.”
“Would you like to guess what it is?”
“No, I’d like you to tell me.”
She folded her arms.
He turned away. “You have a nice office.”
Hannah studied him, wondering what his next tactic would be. “It’s a work in progress.”
He sat. “When Jade and I were first starting out we could only afford a little hole-in-the-wall. In the winters we froze and in the summers we roasted, but it was a beginning and we were too happy to care. Slowly, our business grew and we were able to move out, but I’ll never forget where I started.”
“A touching story. Does it have a point?”
He looked at her. “A lot of great things can come out of humble beginnings. Jade knew that. She didn’t use her parents’ money to get the company started, and she could have. She knew that if she did that somehow they’d own it—and her. She didn’t want them involved in her life or anything she built. She wanted an identity separate from them because she knew that taking Walker money comes with a high price.”
Hannah nodded. “Food for thought.” She leaned back. “If you’ve found another lawyer, that’s fine with me.”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
Hannah leaned forward. “Then why are you here?”
“I told you why.”
“And I told you that you are two days early. See, when I make an agreement with someone I stick with it. You can’t just come in here and waste my time because you have nothing better to do.”
He stood. “I didn’t—”
She stood, too. “When I say four days, I mean four days. You may be able to change the rules with the people you work with, but not with me. And if I’m going to be your representation, you’ll have to get used to how I work. If I say I’m going to do something on a certain day, I’ll do it no later, no sooner. So you can guess what my answer is, but you’re not going to hear it for another two days. Is that clear?”
Amal waited. “So what’s your answer?”
“I just told you, you’ll have to wait.”
He snatched the earring as she reached for it. “Then you don’t need this.”
“You’re being childish.”
He raised a mocking eyebrow.
She sighed. “We had an agreed deadline.”
“No, you made an arbitrary deadline that you want me to follow.”
“You just don’t like not being the one in control.”
Amal glanced down at her earring. “Said the pot to the kettle.”
“Fine.” Hannah held out her hand. “Let’s do a simple exchange. You first.”
He handed her the earring.
“I’m surprised you didn’t argue,” she said, repeating the statement he’d given her the other day.
“I’m too tired. What’s your answer?”
She stood and came around the desk. “No.”
Amal jumped to his feet, furious. “No?”
Hannah gently pushed him back down. “Just listen.”
He stood. “What do you mean by ‘no’?”
“Sit down and I’ll tell you.”
“I don’t want to sit down.”
“Look, you don’t need a lawyer.”
“What do you mean I don’t need a lawyer?”
She covered his mouth. “Let me finish. Okay?”
He narrowed his eyes.
“Nod once and I’ll remove my hand.”
Amal briefly shut his eyes and then met her steady gaze and nodded.
“Good.” Hannah removed her hand. “I’m still going to help you. I’ve done a lot of thinking, and the Walkers are hiding something. We’re going to find out what it is. So this is the deal. You fix my parents’ place and I’ll get the Walkers for you.”
“I don’t need you to ‘get them.’ I need you to—”
“What you need is someone to find out why the Walkers are running scared and threatening people so that they won’t represent you. It makes no sense. I know that once I uncover what they are really worried about you’ll get your inventory and the Walkers will never trouble you again.”
“Okay,” Amal said, slowly trying t
o process everything. “So what exactly is our relationship then?”
“I’m your consultant. I want them to think you’re alone and failing, and then we can catch them unprepared and swoop in.”
Amal was quiet a long moment and then said softly, “So you’re no longer my lawyer?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Hannah frowned, confused by the sudden relief on his face. “Good? A few minutes ago you looked like you wanted to wring my neck.”
“But I think your idea is perfect. Do you like Italian?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Because I want to take you out for dinner.”
“For business?”
“Absolutely not. Pleasure will be the only thing on the menu.”
“Really? I thought I wasn’t your type.”
“I lied. In case you haven’t noticed, I like you a lot.”
Hannah shook her head and sighed. “Amal—”
“How about a movie?”
“No.”
“A sports game of your choice?”
“No.”
“The theater? The symphony? A museum? A trip to the Caribbean? Am I getting close?”
“I just don’t think we should—”
“I know,” he said quickly. “I agree. I really don’t think we should get involved, but no matter what I think I can’t help how I feel and I can’t stop myself from wanting you. And I’ve tried. It doesn’t help that my mother hasn’t stopped begging me to ask you out, so if not for me, saying yes would make an old woman happy.”
“Your mother isn’t old.”
He shrugged. “Can I get a tiny yes?”
“This is emotional blackmail.”
He nodded. “Is it working?”
She grinned. “Yes.”
Amal punched his fist into his palm. “Excellent. What will it be?”
“Coffee.”
His face fell. “Coffee? You want me to take you to get coffee? But that’s so boring.”
“I like coffee, and we might as well get this over and done with. I’m not as exciting as you think.”
“Yes, you are. Fine. You’ll get coffee. I’ll pick you up Sunday.”
“Why don’t we just go out now?”