If I Had You

by Michelle Monkou

  He walked into the office the next morning ready to call a staff meeting. On the ride over, he’d made a checklist of all the things that needed to be done. The length of the list made his stomach nervous. Heading back to Boston was more urgent than he’d thought.

  “You’ve got a visitor in your office.” His assistant pointed toward his office.

  “Who?” Brent stopped in his tracks.

  “Your mother,” she whispered. “She made me promise that I didn’t text you.”

  “Did she also promise to sign your next paycheck?”

  The woman’s eyes opened as wide as saucers.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled. His mood, which was already dark with all that he had going on in his mind, now went south. His mother wanted to bring this matter into his workplace. He took a breath and proceeded to his office.

  “Hi, Mom,” he greeted tight-lipped.

  “I figured that I wouldn’t see you again last night after you threw your tantrum. I came here hoping that you didn’t have a meeting so we could talk. Plus, I’m heading home today.”

  His mother had a way of knocking him down a size or two. And in this case, he had no defense. His fight then flight response wasn’t cool. “Mom, I’m very sorry about last night. You know that I love seeing you.”

  “Liar,” she joked, but her concerned expression didn’t disappear.

  “I owed you a good time when you came.”

  “Well, in all fairness, I dropped in without letting you know.”

  “And…I didn’t expect Harry to be part of your visit. It was a big shock. Maybe with a little warning—”

  “You would have refused me,” his mother said, matter-of-factly.

  “Probably,” Brent hedged.

  His mother finally sat with her pocketbook perched on her legs. She looked tired, despite the perfectly applied makeup. “When did we go off in such separate paths?”

  “Life changes us, Mom. We outgrow things, have different interests and move on.”

  “All of that shouldn’t destroy us. Besides, you haven’t moved on. Holding on to Marjorie as your reason to stay stuck in limbo isn’t right, and it’s surely not fair to her memory.”

  “In a perfect world, maybe.” His discomfort increased as his mother guided him down the path he didn’t want to go. This heavy discussion was at the wrong place and definitely at the wrong time.

  “You’ve never said why you and Harry don’t talk to each other.”

  “Did you ask him?” Somehow he didn’t think that when he shared the details with his mother that she would remain as quiet as Charisse.

  “No.” She crossed her arms and glared at him. “I expect that you are the one I need to ask.”

  Brent started talking, answering his mother’s many questions. Every movement, expression, body language that his mother exhibited registered with him. She was already angry with him over the situation. He concluded his confession with a promise to make amends.

  “When, Brent? You’ve exiled your brother for an unfortunate accident long enough. You can’t withhold your forgiveness much longer.”

  “I know. I know.”

  “It’s affecting the family.”

  “Mom, I’ll do it when it’s right.”

  “It’s always about tomorrow with you. Unless you have divine power, you may not have tomorrow in your grasp.” His mother’s tone escalated. “How are we going to have family dinners at Thanksgiving or Christmas?”

  “You’ve got six months to think of that.” He glanced at his watch. Big mistake.

  “Oh, am I keeping you? Your own mother and you treat me like a fifteen-minute appointment.” She quieted, then looked in her pocketbook and pulled out a tissue.

  “Oh, Mom, please don’t cry.” He knelt at her side with his arms around her. She sniffed into the tissue, dabbing at her eyes. His mom wasn’t the type to cry, especially in front of anyone. Now he felt terrible.

  “My birthday is in a few weeks.” She gripped his hand and sandwiched it between both of hers.

  “I know. I’m having a party for you in Boston. Dad said he’d host one in Florida.” His mother was never the type to celebrate her birthday in a subdued manner. By the time that the day of the party arrived, he expected to have heard about at least two additional parties on her behalf. The woman was a born socialite.

  His mother pushed him aside. She pulled out a small notepad from her pocketbook. “I’ll probably have to take over your father’s arrangements for my party, if I want it done right. Plus I don’t want any of his silly girlfriends to get their hands on anything with regard to me.”

  “Dad has a girlfriend?”

  His mom shrugged. “He’s lost weight, dyed his hair, walks around like he’s some senior citizen cover model. Probably a young gold digger looking to hitch up with an old fool.”

  Brent bit his cheek to keep from laughing. Despite his parents’ separation, his mother was jealous. All her partying and having the house filled with people were acts to get back at her husband. His mother’s logic always had a convoluted edge to it. He and his siblings had learned early on not to get in the middle of their breakup. After their first and only plan to reunite their parents that went terribly wrong, none of his siblings got involved or offered opinions. Yet he’d still call his father to see what the old man was up to.

  “Mom, I promise that you’ll have wonderful birthday parties in Boston and Florida.”

  “I’ll hold you to that promise.” She kissed his cheek. “I want my baby girl and two sons at the party.”

  “Where’s Harry now?”

  “He’s headed back to Boston this morning. I bought him a ticket since he’s between jobs. With all the good things going on at your company, I’m sure you could help him.”

  “Why doesn’t he stay in Florida with you or dad?” Brent’s plans to forgive didn’t necessarily come with additional conditions.

  “He wants to be in Boston. That’s where his roots are, not with a bunch of gray-haired folk.”

  Brent suspected that she’d convince Harry to come to Boston. The role of big brother had changed, but then again, a lot in his life wasn’t the same. Learning to adapt seemed to be the lesson he had to learn.

  “Who is he staying with in Boston?”

  “I got him a six-month lease in an apartment to give him time. But you know that it would be cheaper if both of you lived together. I’m glad that you did buy a new house because I think that it shows you’re moving on, but it’s too big for just you to rattle around in there. Besides, you told me that I could visit and decorate the place. I know it’ll need a woman’s touch. Talking about a woman’s touch—”

  Vicki interrupted in the nick of time. “Charisse is here.”

  “Mom, I’ve got to get back to work. It was good seeing you.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll have my driver take you to the airport. And I’ll definitely talk to Harry, sooner than later.”

  “Thanks, sweetheart. You always make me proud.”

  Brent escorted his mother to the waiting area. Charisse looked up from the magazine she was reading when he entered and greeted him with a wide smile.

  “Good morning, Charisse.”

  “Hi, Brent.” She nodded. She wore a sexy short skirt to show off her legs. He winked his appreciation of the gorgeous display that was just what he needed in the morning.

  His mom paused. She looked down at Charisse with a speculative gaze before looking up at him. He tried to keep his face blank. The effort only served to cause a raised eyebrow from her.

  “I’m his mother.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Thatcher.” Charisse shook his mother’s hand.

  “What do you do for Brent?” His mother’s question hovered ever so innocently.
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  “I work on public relations for one of his clients.”

  “Okay.” His mother’s tone left a lot unsaid.

  The wheels in his mother’s head were running practically on high speed. He cupped her elbow and steered her to the elevator. “Charisse, could you wait in my office?” He motioned with his head for her to go.

  She remained seated, sliding back into the chair. Her mouth perked into an insufferable smirk. She didn’t budge.

  “Please?”

  Finally, she relented and stood.

  “I’m impressed, son.”

  “With what?” He pressed the button to summon the elevator and prayed it would come before his mom pressed him with intrusive questions.

  The elevator arrived.

  His mother stepped into the elevator and faced him. Excitement radiated off her entire body. “You found a lady to bring life back into your heart. I’d wondered what had changed about you. Couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Has been a while since there’s been life in those eyes. And now I know.” She chuckled. “Charisse, is it? I like that name. She’s as lovely as a sunny day. Looks like a nice young lady.”

  The doors sounded the alarm for them to close. Her delicate hand remained firmly fastened on the elevator door, keeping it open.

  “Oh, and Brent…”

  “Yes, Mom?”

  “I want her at my party. I think that it’s in my best interest to get to know the woman you love.”

  Chapter 13

  After a week back in Boston, Brent decided that he needed a clone or two. Several of his artists were hitting their stride and gaining success in their particular niches. With All For One being added to the summer tour lineup, additional appearances and promotional work would be crucial to capitalize on the exposure.

  The workload didn’t lend too much time for him to talk to Charisse. Their separation made him miss her more. Though, he had to admit that she may have welcomed the space. Getting close to her beyond physical intimacy was turning into a difficult task. But he was up for the challenge, despite the niggling doubt eating away at his confidence.

  Since New York, most of their contact was through emails and phone calls. Charisse had mounted an aggressive campaign with the group’s social media network. Now she was on the verge of launching an updated interactive fan site with plans to have regional street teams that would act as a grassroots network to push the group’s efforts.

  All the work and success rolling in had motivated the guys in various ways. Some had even started considering having a solo career on the side. Others wanted to know how soon they could open for some of the top acts in the stadium venues. One of their suggestions that was floated for his consideration was to have a reality show about their journey to stardom. That one was nixed immediately. He didn’t need this bubble to burst and cause any public backlash.

  One thing the guys did jump on as a group fell under the category of vanity. They wanted to pose with rock-hard bodies on as many posters as possible. Rocky took his personal training services seriously, getting them on their way. On the first day, he turned into a drill sergeant with a boot camp workout that silenced their bravado.

  All in all, the label shared their satisfaction with the sudden upswing and transformation of the group. Even Gladys approached him for another TV interview opportunity.

  “Welcome back to the office, Brent.” Vicki planted herself in front of his desk.

  “Thank you. Good to be back, and there’s much to do. Ready to put on a pair of roller skates? Things are going to be hopping for All For One. They’re on the summer tour lineup. I need you to coordinate with New Vision on local media coverage. Charisse’s taking care of all media, but I want you to work with her on the local front.”

  Vicki’s mouth twitched.

  “What’s the problem?”

  “Nothing. What else would you like me to do?”

  “Plan a launch party to fall six weeks from now. Again, coordinate with Charisse.”

  “She might as well work in the office,” Vicki said under her breath.

  “Did you say something?” Brent pretended he hadn’t heard Vicki’s irritation.

  “Nothing important. By the way, Francine Caldwell called for an urgent appointment to see you.”

  “I’m too busy for her.” Brent almost cringed that the annoying woman had tracked him to Boston.

  “She said that she has an idea that’s already passed muster with her father. Because he was so excited about this idea, she wants to meet with you, as soon as possible.” Vicki cleared her throat. “She’s here.”

  Brent held up his hands to protest. “I do not have time for that woman.”

  Vicki snickered.

  “I hope that you weren’t talking about me, honey.” Francine glided her way into his office. She was in a powder-blue skirt ensemble that may have looked decent on a teenager but was ridiculous on a grown woman.

  “Francine, this is an unexpected…” Brent left the thought open-ended.

  The woman brushed past Vicki and leaned over the desk to close the gap between her face and Brent. The scent of her cloying perfume hit him, and he backed up.

  “I’ll leave you alone,” Vicki said.

  “Vicki, have a seat. I’m not done with my meeting. Francine will have to reschedule.”

  Francine’s eyes widened and then changed into angry slits. “I have unfinished business to discuss.”

  “Not a problem. You can make an appointment with Vicki, who can see you much sooner than I can.” He placed his hand on the files covering his desk. “All of these have priority.”

  Francine stomped her foot. “My father sent me here.”

  Brent picked up the phone and dialed Caldwell’s private number. He announced himself and exchanged the briefest of pleasantries.

  “Francine is here, and I understand that she’s got news for me. However, I won’t be able to meet with her because I’m gearing up for All For One. The media are coming out of the woodwork for these guys. I’d hate to miss any opportunities.”

  “Don’t worry about a thing. Francine’s idea can hold,” Caldwell said.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to hear what she has to say, but I did offer Vicki to assist her.”

  “Bet that went over in a bad way. Look, Brent, it’s obvious that you don’t fancy my daughter. I tried to be an advocate, but even I know when to walk away.”

  Brent didn’t know how to reply. It seemed that Caldwell was giving up, but he didn’t want to celebrate until he knew Francine’s next move. He ended the conversation with the older man.

  “I don’t want to meet with Vicki,” Francine blurted.

  “Because…?” Brent looked over at Vicki, who only shrugged and looked unconcerned.

  “She doesn’t like me.”

  Brent tossed down his pen and vigorously rubbed his face. “I don’t have time for this, Francine. You need to leave my office.”

  “What about us?” she questioned in a shrill voice.

  “There was never something between you and me. There isn’t anything between you and me. Furthermore, I’m not available for the future since I am in a relationship.”

  “What? Who?” Francine’s eyes grew wide.

  Vicki’s eyes practically looked the size of dinner plates.

  “Doesn’t matter.” Brent delivered the message coolly. Thankfully, she turned and ran out of his office.

  After several seconds, Vicki shifted in her seat. “Do I get to know who the mystery woman is?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I’m sure Charisse would be delighted to know that you put up a courageous fight for her privacy.”

  Brent didn’t respond. He wasn’t going to admit to a
relationship with a woman who wanted nothing of the kind.

  Charisse made a quiet detour from the trip to Boston. Seeing Brent’s mother had reminded her how much she missed her own parents, especially her mother.

  Plus there were certain times in her life where she needed her mom’s advice. Much had happened between her and Brent, more than she’d planned, and there was a high probability that much more would happen. She sensed that he wanted to push their relationship to the next level. But her deep-seated fears warred against the possibility of following her advice to Brent to let go.

  The location of her childhood home in Rochester was the only familiar thing as she pulled up in a taxi. Eight months was the longest that she’d been away. Work had become her central focus, shoving everything and everyone else aside. Guilt rode heavily on her shoulders as she walked up the driveway to the bungalow.

  The small stones under her feet crunched as she walked. The siding had been changed from the dingy white to an almond shade. The trees that spotted the front yard were mostly gone, and a low hedge now bordered the perimeter. The brown front door had been replaced by a forest-green door, to match the shutters framing the windows. A shiny door knocker displayed the family’s name engraved in its center.

  Charisse raised her hand to knock, but the door opened suddenly. Her niece and nephew appeared in the doorway, jumping and giggling. They called out to their mother.

  They had grown so much. Their faces had matured, and the baby look had almost disappeared, along with a few front teeth. Her heart swelled with emotion that they were still enthusiastic to see her. She knelt on one knee and gathered them into her arms.

  “Aunty Charry,” they echoed.

  “Hi, Tonya. Hi, Leo.” She marveled at how her niece was now the image of her mother, Charisse’s sister, and her nephew looked like her brother. She had flashbacks of that same face torturing her when they were kids. “Both of you smell like spaghetti.”

  They giggled. The evidence was the tomato sauce dried around their mouths.

  “I’ll take your suitcase,” Leo said, pulling on the handle of her bag.