Hot Summer

by Judy Powell

  She got up from the sofa, walked over to the open window and stared out with unseeing eyes. This couldn’t be happening to her. Not now. She was being kicked out of her apartment and would be faced with a significant increase in rent, her mother’s condition seemed to be worsening and might even require expensive surgery, and now this.

  With a shake of her head she reigned in her turbulent thoughts and decided to go to the university first thing in the morning. There had to be an explanation for this.

  ******

  “That’s what I pay you for, Derrick, to get the job done. Now, do it.” Lance’s voice was stern as he spoke into the telephone. He lounged, shirtless, in the plush leather sofa. The hard muscles of his torso rippled as he shifted his body to hang long legs over the arm of the chair. “No more excuses, Derrick. It’s been almost three months. Don’t call me until you have good news.”

  When he’d hung up he covered his face with a long-fingered hand and groaned. What misery to be saddled with incompetent employees. Derrick Dunn was a somewhat shiftless cousin he was trying to assist by providing honest employment. He had promised his aunt that he’d keep him under his wing and out of trouble. The twenty-nine year old had already gotten in trouble with the law and Lance knew that another such occurrence would kill her.

  He’d been looking out for the younger man since he was twelve and Derrick was eight. Sometimes he got so tired of playing rescuer, but no matter how many times he’d had to save Derrick’s skin he knew he would always be there for him. Family meant too much to him, for him to abandon one of his own.

  Lance rose and drew the blinds back from the large bay window. He blinked at the bright sunlight that streamed in. Although it was only seven-thirty the sun was already hot on his skin. He stood there for a moment enjoying the heat as it baked his chest while he stared down from the forty-third floor at Lake Michigan below.

  He had a lot to do today but he was not in the mood to hit the road early. It had been a long night in the studio. He hadn’t left until two in the morning and was still a bit tired. There was no way he was going to leave the apartment before ten o’clock. He felt like taking it easy.

  He turned and strolled leisurely across the spacious living room and pushed the swinging doors that led to the kitchen. A cup of strong Blue Mountain Coffee would do the trick. He switched on the percolator and munched on a granola bar as he waited. A short while later, he went back into the living room, mug in hand, and switched on the state-of-the-art stereo. The rhythmic beat of reggae music filled the room. “So I’ll wait for you,” Freddie McGregor crooned as Lance leaned back, rested his feet on the hassock and sipped hot coffee.

  The smell of the Jamaican coffee took his mind back to the tiny village of Porters Mountain where his grandmother used to grind the home-grown beans and make the strongest coffee he’d ever had. She would grate a little nutmeg into the brew which gave it a distinctive spicy flavor he never forgot.

  The thought of the spice brought back the memory of the feisty young woman who, twice, had waited on his table. He remembered how her curly hair had sprung, reddish brown and wild, from under her hat. High cheekbones accentuated her heart-shaped face, and a mole by the side of her mouth drew attention to the full lips she kept in a tight line when she was angry. But it was her eyes that fascinated him most - she had big, dark-brown eyes fringed with luxuriously long eyelashes, eyes that flashed like flames when she got angry.

  A slight smile softened his lips as he remembered the first time he’d seen her. He hadn’t paid much attention to the slender girl who had come to the table bearing the tray of delicious dishes. His interest was sparked, however, when he saw how she met Monisha’s glare with an equally bold stare, and when she stood up to the singer and spoke her mind he’d felt real admiration for her fearlessness.

  He’d gone back to the restaurant out of sheer curiosity, wondering if she was always so feisty or if she’d been putting on a show for him. Women had been known to do worse; they found all kind of ways to throw themselves at him.

  He had become famous five years ago when he got his big break with Patricia Lee’s album and ever since then he’d been the target of female fans. He tried to keep a low profile and, for the most part, had succeeded. He was grateful he wasn’t a recording artiste for his face to appear on CD’s or in videos. As a record producer people knew his name more than they did his face but once they realized who he was the women would go to great lengths to attract his attention.

  Somehow he knew that this woman was different. Whether she’d known who he was or not, he had no idea. He felt confident, though, that even if she had, it would not have mattered. It was clear that she was used to speaking her mind and would not be intimidated by anyone.

  He smiled and shook his head as he took another sip of the coffee. The girl was something else. She’d practically told him off the last time they met. He licked his lips slowly as he thought about her. He was looking forward to meeting this woman again.

  ******

  Summer stared back at the administrator in disbelief, “So why didn’t anyone explain this to me?” Her voice trembled with anger. “At least I would’ve been prepared.”

  “Ms. Jones,” the woman’s voice was calm and cool, “when you got the scholarship you were advised that it would cover tuition for eighteen consecutive months of study. It’s not the fault of the board that it’s taken you longer than that to complete your studies.”

  “But I had to take a leave of absence because my mother was sick.”

  “I understand that, but in doing so you forfeited three months of scholarship money. Now that the eighteen months have passed you’ll need to pay tuition for this semester.”

  “But I don’t have the money!”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Jones, but you won’t be able to register until the payment is made.” The gray-haired woman turned back to her computer and began to tap furiously, as if demonstrating that she was extremely busy and should not be disturbed.

  Summer closed her eyes for a quick moment and willed herself to stay calm. If she didn’t maintain control she was going to give this woman a piece of her mind and then it would all be over. She clenched her fists, opened her eyes, and spoke through gritted teeth.

  “I’d like to speak directly to the registrar about this.”

  The woman looked annoyed. “I don’t see how that would help. She is not going to tell you anything different from what I’m telling you now.”

  “I said I would like to see the registrar.” The pitch of Summer’s voice was beginning to rise and the older woman looked startled, then rose with a humph.

  “Just a moment,” she said, annoyance plain on her face. She turned away, went over to a desk in the far corner of her work area and picked up the telephone. She spoke in hushed tones as Summer watched, then returned to the counter and said, “Mrs. Houstetter will see you in a few minutes. Please have a seat.” She pointed to a row of chairs against the wall.

  “Thank you.” Summer nodded, none too pleased with the woman’s impersonal manner but grateful that she would be able to plead her case at a higher level.

  When she walked into Mrs. Houstetter’s office she saw immediately that this was a personable woman. Paintings of garden scenes lined the walls and pictures of family members were on the shelves just above her desk. The small, white-haired woman rose upon her entry and came forward to greet her with a smile.

  “Ms. Jones, how are you?” The woman extended a small hand and Summer shook it, feeling like a giant as she towered over the woman who could not have been more than four and a half feet tall. She was surprised at the warm reception and despite her feelings of frustration, smiled back at the registrar.

  “I…I’m fine, thank you.”

  “Please, have a seat.” She was ushered to a chair across from a magnificent oak desk.

  “Thank you,” Summer murmured, as she sank into the deep leather chair and placed her purse on her lap. She gripped the strap with tight fingers, c
almed by the pleasantries, but still very aware of her uncertain position.

  “Now, Ms. Jones, I understand that you have a problem with registration for this semester?” Mrs. Houstetter looked at her across the wide desk. Her large spectacles and pointy nose made her look like a wise little owl.

  “Yes, and I hope you can help me.” Summer was surprised at how breathless she sounded. She was normally bold and outspoken but this time she had so much at stake. She was so close to her Master’s Degree that she couldn’t let anything stand in the way of the achievement of her goal.

  By the time Summer finished her meeting with Mrs. Houstetter she was convinced that luck was on her side. The registrar had listened to her predicament with sincere sympathy and, after further discussion, had agreed for Summer to pay her final semester’s tuition fee by installment. She made it clear to Summer that this was not the norm - the standard was for full payment to be made prior to registration for any classes. However, in this case, an exception would be made in light of the unfortunate misunderstanding with the terms of the scholarship. Summer would be allowed to register right away but would be required to make payments at the end of each month for the next five months, with the understanding that all outstanding balances should be cleared prior to graduation which was six months away.

  While on the train Summer took stock of her situation. By the time she got home she was depressed all over again. She flung herself down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. She had twenty-seven days to go and then she’d be out on the street unless she could find a way to earn more money. On top of that, she would have to find an extra thousand dollars each month to make the payments on her tuition. As for her mother’s surgery she just hoped Medicaid would cover the cost in full.

  Her mind flashed back to the conversation she’d had three days earlier with Lance Munroe. The man was arrogant and his mocking tone annoyed the heck out of her but he had mentioned a job opportunity and, although the very thought of humbling herself to ask him for a job galled her, she was now in a desperate situation and might have to take him up on the offer. Her pride could neither feed her nor pay the rent.

  She jumped off the bed and went to get her purse. Now that she’d made up her mind to do it she was overwhelmed with curiosity at what the job entailed. Right now she would do just about anything as long as it paid her double what she was getting. She decided to call him right away.

  Summer had been rummaging through her purse for a full three minutes before she accepted the fact that she’d lost the man’s business card. She flopped down onto the sofa, a deep frown creasing her brow. Now where in heaven’s name could she have put the thing? She remembered taking it from him and walking back to the kitchen with it still in her hand. She could have sworn that she’d gone straight to her locker and put it in her purse. Or had she put it in the pocket of her uniform?

  She racked her brain, not understanding why she found it so hard to remember a simple thing like that. Maybe she had a mental block concerning anything to do with this man? No, he was annoying and arrogant but he was not so bad that she would have to block him out of her mind.

  On the contrary, there were some things about him that she found very pleasant to recall - the way his lips spread slowly in a smile she could only describe as seductive, the way his eyes moved deliberately over her face as if to caress every inch of it, the way his deep voice made her shiver inside.

  She sat up with sudden realization. She, Summer Jones, committed bachelorette and career student who never had time to waste on men and relationships, was attracted to this man.

  She’d finally met a man who piqued her curiosity and stimulated her emotions so much that she was actually looking forward to seeing him again. But of all the men in the world, why would she be attracted to the one who got on her nerves? Well, it didn’t matter because she’d never let him know how she felt. She would never be so stupid as to give him one more thing to mock her about. She’d just let this thing die a natural death.

  4

  Next evening Summer arrived at work thirty minutes early and ensured that table seven was among those to which she was assigned for the night. She wanted to speak to Lance Munroe about the job and she now knew that this was his regular table. She watched as diners came and went but he never showed up. She was very disappointed when closing time came without any sign of Lance.

  “You okay, Summer?” As usual, it was Brian who noticed that something was wrong with her. “You’ve been on edge all evening and you don’t look too good.”

  Summer’s defenses immediately went up. She fought between her need for privacy and a sudden desire to express her distress at her worsening predicament. She hesitated as she looked up at the big man who stood ready to go through the door.

  “Alright, I know I’m a nosy son of a gun,” he said, “but you look like you could do with someone to talk to right now. What say we go have a drink and you can tell me all about it?”

  “I…it’s nothing, Brian. I just need to go home and get some rest.”

  “Don’t give me that, Summer.” It was the first time she’d seen him look so serious. “I’ve worked with you almost everyday for almost two weeks and I’ve never seen you like this. I know you’re a tough cookie but, come on, you’re human.”

  “Well…” Summer was still hesitant, then she said, “Alright. I could do with a friend right now.”

  “You have one right here. It’s only ten fifteen. Let’s go over to the Brass Turkey. We can talk over a drink.”

  Summer nodded wordlessly, collected her purse and followed him out the door.

  Brian was a good listener and Summer found herself sharing her anxiety at her precarious position. She even told him about the possible job offer with Lance Munroe and her disappointment at having lost his card and then not seeing him at the restaurant that night.

  “I’m getting really desperate, Brian. I’ve never been in a situation like this before.” She didn’t realize she was nibbling a fingernail until he pulled her hand away from her mouth.

  “Hey, calm down.” He covered her hand with his big one. “I might just be able to help you.”

  “But…how?”

  “My cousin, Tina, works in the building where Lance lives. He’s in the Water Tower building downtown. She told me she ran into him in the elevator once-“

  “Yes, but how can she help me? Can she tell me which apartment he’s in?”

  “ ‘Course she can. All she has to do is check the register of residents and then-”

  “Can she get me his phone number?”

  “I’m sure of it. I’ll talk to her first thing tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Brian. You’re a life saver.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “I just need to get in touch with him real fast. I need that job like yesterday.”

  “I know, honey.” Brian smiled then looked at her gravely. “I’m gonna miss you.”

  “But you’ve only known me ten days.”

  “I know, but now I’m so used to having you around. You spice up the place. If you leave it’s going to get all boring again.”

  “Oh, Brian,” she soothed, “we’ll still be friends.”

  “Yeah, right,” he said then they both laughed.

  Next day Brian was true to his word. She had the telephone number by two o’clock that afternoon. She paced up and down nervously, trying to work up the courage to make the call. Finally, she sat on the edge of the sofa, picked up the phone and dialed.

  He was not home. As the voice recording chipped in desperate thoughts ran through her head. What was she going to say? He didn’t even know her. He was going to be so pissed. Then at the sound of the beep she said calmly, “Mr. Munroe, this is Summer Jones who you met at The Southern Belle. I’d like to know more about the position you mentioned. Could you give me a call as soon as possible?”

  She left her phone number and then hung up and sat staring at the clock on the wall. Well, she’d done it. She had asked Lance Munroe for the job. And she
had called his home number. She knew he’d be wondering how she had managed to get it but she would never tell, even if it meant losing her chance at the job. She would never let Brian get in trouble because of her.

  Next time she looked up at the clock it was two-thirty. She’d been sitting there, daydreaming, for the past half hour. She jumped up and headed for the bathroom. Her mother had a three-thirty appointment with the ophthalmologist and, if she didn’t hurry, she’d be late for it.

  The doctor’s office was painted dusky green and there were indoor plants all around the spacious reception area. A huge fish tank stood against the far wall and the other walls were covered with paintings of river scenes. The coffee table in the middle of the room was green marble streaked with white. Clearly, the decorator had used nature as the theme. Summer had no objection - it made her feel peaceful. Right now she could do with some calm to steady her jangling nerves.

  She pushed her mother’s wheelchair close to the fish tank and sat down beside her. “Feeling okay, Mom?”

  “As well as can be expected.” Her mother smiled back and patted her hand. “Now stop worrying your head about me. Whatever will be will be. No amount of worrying can change things.”

  “I’m your daughter. I’m supposed to worry about you.”

  “Well, since you put it that way, go ahead and worry. But just a little bit, okay? You have so much more on your mind right now - like finishing up your studies. How’s that going, anyway?”

  “Oh, it’s going alright,” she said vaguely. “Once I finish the thesis then the only thing left for me will be graduation.”

  “I’m looking forward to that day.” Pride gleamed in her mother’s eyes and Summer turned away, pretending great interest in a magazine she’d picked up from a chair nearby.

  Summer hadn’t told her mother about the problems she was having with her apartment and her tuition fees. She felt that Edna had so much on her plate already that she didn’t want to burden her with her own problems. As far as her mother knew she was busy with her studies and her job at The Southern Belle, and that was it. Summer was satisfied to keep her thinking that way. Even if she ended up on the streets she would never add to her mother’s stress.