If I Had You

by Michelle Monkou

  “I’ll check into that. In the meantime, they’re booked in some small venues here to capitalize on the hometown appeal before heading to New York.” Vicki’s pen moved across the page, filling the space with copious notes.

  “Sounds good. I’ll head to New York on Thursday. Keep me out there for a week. If it ends up being shorter, I’ll let you know.”

  “I don’t have anything scheduled in New York for you that week. Was I supposed to make calls?”

  “No. I decided at the last minute to stay there. I just hired a new PR firm, and my schedule for now will be focused on pushing the new band.”

  Vicki looked over the top of her glasses at him. “You have a ton of acts knocking on your door. All their proposals are in your office. Do you want me to farm them out?”

  “Let me take a look at them first, and then I’ll pluck out the ones that I want to listen to. I can do that in New York.” Brent sensed Vicki’s hawkish skills homed in for clues on what was going on. He wanted to be alone. “Anything else?”

  “Your mother called.”

  “And?”

  Vicki flipped over pages on her pad and cleared her throat. “I was instructed to write this down.”

  “Don’t bother reading it.” He flicked his fingers for the note. His mother often went to extremes to make a point. If his mother felt neglected, she could pester him on a number of topics, like whether he was eating properly, did he finally hire a gardener or something as ridiculous as whether he would be attending his cousin’s girlfriend’s sister’s best friend’s baby shower. Or she would return with the earnest request for him to reconcile with his brother.

  “If she asks, I’m going to tell her that you wouldn’t allow me to read it. Not going to get yelled at by your mother.” Vicki ripped off the page and placed it on the desk in front of him. “My job is done. I will talk to you later. I have real work to do.”

  Brent waited until Vicki left him before he looked down at the square yellow sheet. In Vicki’s neat handwriting, he read his mother’s request to tell her when would be a good time for her to visit.

  “Visit?” he asked aloud.

  He walked over to his desk and picked up the phone. Again he read the request. His head furrowed as he tried to remember if he’d made a promise to her that he now had forgotten.

  Nothing came to mind, except her plea that he come visit more often. Once a season was good enough. Being held captive under her watchful attention was too much. After Marjorie’s death, his mother hovered to the point of suffocating him.

  Brent called his parent’s house.

  “Mom?” He could barely hear her over the noise in the background. The din behind her voice made conversation difficult.

  “Brent, I can’t talk now. I’m playing poker with some friends.”

  “It’s the morning, Mom.”

  “Since when does poker require a certain time? We’re having our tournament. Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck.” He almost hung up before he remembered her cryptic message. “Is everything okay? I got your message.”

  “We’ll talk later.” Her voice dropped low.

  Brent strained to hear. But he couldn’t go any further with the conversation because the dial tone was the only sound in his ear.

  What the heck was going on? Unease rippled through him.

  He called his father.

  “Brent? How’s it going?”

  “Fine. I wondered if you knew why Mom was calling me to visit.” His parents had separated when he was a teen but still had a friendly on-again, off-again relationship that took the sting off an otherwise sordid episode of his life. Yet their still-married but separated status made for some quirky and memorable family dinners.

  “Don’t know. She hasn’t said anything to me. What else is new with you?”

  Brent chatted a little about his business. At least his father didn’t badger him into visiting, although he was due a visit because they were supposed to go fishing.

  “Maybe she called about your brother or sister.”

  “I saw Fontana a week or so ago, she’s fine.” Brent pursed his lips. “What about Harry?”

  “All I heard is that he’s moving to Boston.”

  The news had the same power as a punch to the gut.

  Brent pursed his lips. “Harry’s coming here? When?” His tone turned curt.

  “Don’t know all the specifics. Maybe he wants to make amends.”

  “Some things are best left alone.” He didn’t want to think about his brother. He certainly didn’t want to deal with him in his home city.

  “Don’t expect your mother to leave things alone. She’s determined to have you and your brother speaking by year’s end.”

  Brent hated the drama of family conflicts. He’d done his best to walk away and not prolong any discord. However, his mother had taken up the cause. For an unknown reason, his brother was moving to Boston. Suddenly getting to New York seemed more urgent.

  “You know, Brent, he is blood.”

  “Too bad he didn’t remember that.” Brent closed his eyes refusing to go down the path of hurt and anger.

  His father sighed. “I’m heading off to the golf course. I’ll chat with you later.”

  “Sure. Talk to you later.” Brent hung up. His mood felt dark and heavy. He picked up the phone again. “Vicki, I’ll head out to New York at the beginning of the week, instead of Thursday.”

  “Any other plans need to be rescheduled or made?”

  “No. Something came up. The guys can still come up on Thursday.” He hung up with Vicki.

  His cell phone rang. He saw Charisse’s name pop up on the screen. A welcome blast of fresh air for a funky morning.

  “Charisse, good to hear from you.”

  “Hi, Brent. I have some good news.”

  “Go on.”

  “I got an interview with Gladys Beecher, the cable TV mogul.”

  “Hey, that’s fantastic.”

  “One tiny thing. She wants the guys in her studio by Wednesday evening.”

  “Whoa! That’s fast.”

  “I know. I know. Sorry. Another person fell through for the spot. I called at the right time. She was interested with what I said about the group. Can you make it happen?”

  Brent didn’t know how he’d pull it off, but that’s why he had Vicki. “Sure can. This is great. Just the shot in the system that they need.”

  “Good. I’ll look forward to seeing you then.” Her voice softened.

  “Me, too.” Brent suddenly sat up, realizing that he’d slipped down in the seat and had the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder. He couldn’t help the silly grin.

  “By the way, there’s also a breakfast planning meeting on Thursday about the summer tour series.”

  “Isn’t that too late for the guys to get on board?”

  “I’ve got a friend who is one of the organizers. Should be able to get them in the lineup. It won’t be the greatest spot, although they will be able to participate in the meet-and-greet session.”

  “I’m impressed. Friends in high places, huh? I’m looking forward to hearing more about it.”

  The Times Square event with the label’s up-and-coming acts was a major accomplishment. And having the group placed on the summer tour was huge. His day had finally been turned around with good news. The bonus was that he’d see Charisse much sooner than anticipated.

  “Well, I better get going. Or I’ll be rambling on and keeping you from your work.”

  “I’m glad you called. I was thinking about you. I mean…I’ve been wondering what you had in mind for the group. But looks like you’ve managed to hit the ground running.”

  “I’m excited to work wi
th All For One. I have a gut feeling that once the public sees and hears from them that they will attach to them in a major way. We’ll blow up the internet with them.”

  “What about getting them into print magazines? I know that magazines are taking a hit with advertising revenue, but the younger kids still do like their posters.”

  “I’ve got some calls in. Problem is that there is no hype around them. That’s why I’m hoping Gladys’s coverage can give them a small boost to start something.”

  “They’ve got a decent back story that should connect with the girls. I’ve even arranged for them to meet with a personal trainer. Getting them ready for photo ops. Besides, I want them to work off some of the frustration that occurs in all group dynamics.”

  “That’s smart thinking. Whether we like it or not, the visual package is as important as the talent.”

  “They’re good-looking. With a toned physique and the right wardrobe, the posters and other print work will fall into place.”

  “True, true. I do have some connections with a few young designers. Young and hungry. They’re also looking for that chance to be discovered. The right photo, in the right magazine, with mention of the designer is a coup.”

  “As long as it’s F-R-E-E,” Brent reminded.

  Charisse laughed and Brent found himself joining in.

  The sound of their laughter carried through the phone with a mysterious power that washed over him, making him relax and shake off his earlier brooding.

  She could’ve called to talk about the weather, and he would feel the same. He wanted to be in her company.

  Whatever door he had desperately kept shut now had been cracked wide enough for his emotions to flood through the opening. Part of him remained uneasy that not only did she have the power to shift his mood but she had the power to stir up emotions of pure joy that he hadn’t felt in years. The momentum swept him off his feet in a way that left him feeling giddy but unsteady—a quite unfamiliar state.

  “Can I get a repeat invite to that Cuban restaurant when I get there?” Brent wanted to relive the magical moment of when they’d first met.

  “Ah, so you’ve become a convert of Luisa’s cuisine? That was fast. I thought that I’d have to do some heavy convincing to get you to see my side of things. Are you always this impulsive?”

  “Not really. Seems to be a new habit.”

  “I like it.” Her voice sounded breathless. Sexy. Alluring.

  “How about dinner with me sometime this week?” Brent grimaced over his eagerness. “Not that it’s a date or anything.”

  “Right.” She laughed. “No dating. I have my rules. But if I’m going to have dinner with you then how about a rain check for brunch with me?”

  “As long as you know the boundaries,” he teased.

  “I’ll be sure to reread my contract.”

  Brent laughed.

  A knock on his office door interrupted him. Before he could erase the grin, Vicki popped her head into his office. She mouthed her message, eyebrows wiggling as if they delivered a separate message. She stuck out her wrist and tapped her watch.

  “Hold one moment, Charisse.” He pressed the mute button and then gave his full attention to his assistant.

  “Your briefing with Vernon and Judith was five minutes ago.” She stood in front of him looking like the school principal, glaring down at him.

  “Thanks.” He waited for her to leave before pressing the mute button. “Charisse, it looks like I have to head to a meeting. Thanks for the good news. I’m impressed.”

  “Glad to hear.”

  Brent ended the call regretfully. He’d been on a roll before Vicki had invaded his office. Since she wasn’t bothering to retreat, he wasn’t about to give her any ammunition to lecture him.

  “What’s got you looking like you’re suffering from a gas attack, Vicki?”

  “I barely heard from you when you went to New York. You’ve been distracted all day. The meeting with Caldwell seemed tense. And now you’re missing a meeting and seem fine about it.”

  “Sounds like you’re judging me.” Brent stood up, on the defense.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

  Brent was used to Vicki’s perfectionist ways and her attempts to make him fall into line. But listening to her highlight his recent faux pas raised his defenses. Especially when he knew he was guilty.

  The fact that he was running around like a lovesick teenager at the detriment of his company pricked at his conscience. There was no doubt in his mind that Charisse was a special person. He just wasn’t sure where she fit between his life and work.

  Chapter 8

  Charisse sipped her coffee, humming to the tune that played on the radio in her apartment. Today was a big day. She knew Tracy expected to hear about her status from the job interview. Another contract was due to be wrapped up with signing on a bakery. And Brent was due to arrive at her office to prepare for the interview with his group in two days.

  Such an important day required the right outfit. Fashion wasn’t her strong point, although she could pass muster. But she wanted to feel confident with everything coming at her today. With her coffee mug in hand, she stood in her closet studying the clothes. Her hand trailed over the various blouses. She hoped a color or style would jump out at her.

  Did she want her neck to be visible? Should she wear an orange-red or chocolate-brown blouse or go with the blue one that always got her compliments? Pants or dress?

  She blushed as she recalled the heavy flirting over the phone. What if Brent thought it was sexy? What if she did take the mild flirtation up one notch? What if she made that invitation to brunch follow a romantic evening?

  The idea shocked her. Charisse took a gulp of coffee and almost had to spit the overly hot liquid.

  She quickly showered and dressed, shoving aside any musings that were arousing more than her interest. Her reflection in the bathroom mirror over the sink allowed her to cast a critical eye on her clothing choice—peacock-blue blouse, black slacks and matching blazer. Now for a touch of makeup, and she was done.

  “Darn it!” She set down the blush brush, turned out the lights and walked out the bathroom. Her makeup technique seemed rusty this morning.

  Some independent career woman she was turning out to be. Planning her outfit for a man was such a wrong move. She wasn’t the type of sophisticated socialite who traveled in Brent’s circles.

  When was the last time she’d dated? All the nuances of courtship were lost on her. Why would she bother to date with a six-to-one ratio of women to men in the city? But that would only matter if she had long-term expectations anyway. Keeping it casual would allow her the space to protect her feelings. She was determined to play the game like the men.

  She knew just the person to call for help.

  She grabbed her phone and started dialing.

  “June, it’s Charisse. How are things?”

  “I’m heading to work. What’s up, my friend?”

  “Are you going out tonight?”

  “Heading to the usual happy hour. You need me to do something for you?”

  “Wondered if I could hang with you.”

  “Say what? You’re going to leave your office and come to happy hour?” June chuckled. “I’m expecting an eclipse for that event.”

  June wouldn’t be the only friend to freak out about her request. Social activities had been put on hold. Running the company got all her attention. As a result, her friends had drifted away.

  Charisse cleared her throat. “Be quiet. It’s about time I get out there.”

  “Really? Sounds like we may need to talk, instead of drink.”

  “Nope. Not ready to do any heavy-duty talking. Just need to be in a busy place.” Charis
se bit her lip, wondering if she should ask. “Do you believe in instant attraction?” Her heart pounded.

  “Nope.”

  “Just like that? Why not?” Charisse would have answered just as definitively two weeks ago.

  “’Cause that’s in the movies. You know, when you finish seeing a film and you sigh and go away with that warm, gooey feeling. Doesn’t happen in reality.”

  “Okay.”

  “Instant attraction is when it’s only physical, nothing below the surface.”

  Charisse nodded. She didn’t know how to argue the point without revealing her personal stake.

  “I’ve got to run. Come by the office this evening, and we’ll go out together.”

  “I’ll be there,” Charisse responded. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

  “We’ll see. You know I’m expecting you to cancel.”

  Charisse snorted. “Thanks for being supportive at a time when I need you.”

  “I’ll stop giving you a hard time. Bye, sweetie.”

  Charisse hung up, her mood much improved. She’d forced herself to ignore Brent’s charm. The man scrambled her ability to think straight. The giddy, silly feeling when she talked to him frankly embarrassed her. If they were going to work together, she had to pull herself in line. Otherwise, she’d be like those colleagues who everyone had fun gossiping about at happy hour.

  Time to head to the office.

  The morning temperature had warmed up over the weekend. Her blazer provided sufficient cover for the short walk to the subway. She opened her front door, and saw a man standing there, his hand poised to knock. She screamed in surprise, and her breath seized in her throat. Her heart beat wildly—partly from fright but also from delight as she recognized the person poised to knock on the door.

  “Surprise!” Brent said.

  “Wow!” Charisse exclaimed. “I can’t believe you’re here.” She wanted to reach out and touch his face. Was he real? No mistaking those gray-blue eyes that always turned her on. Her breathing felt erratic. Remaining calm and cool would require all of her energy.

  “I arrived early this morning. Wasn’t sure if I would be on time.”