Hot Summer

by Judy Powell

  “Here you go, Miss Jones,” Chantal said. “Mr. Munroe left instructions for you to be provided with the files of the eight people you’ll be working with. Please make yourself comfortable while I retrieve them from the main library. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

  Chantal left and Summer walked over to read the labels on the video tapes. ‘Summer Tour 2008’, ‘Times Square 2010, ‘Sumfest 2011’, she read. She saw CD’s of various singers some of whom she knew, others she’d never heard of. She went over to the credenza and flipped through some of the magazines. She wondered which of the singers profiled in the books were from Lance’s group. Well, she’d know soon enough. Based on what he’d told her she would soon be spending a lot of time with them.

  Chantal returned and placed a stack of files in the middle of the desk. “Here they are,” she said. “You’re to spend the morning going through these files so that you’ll have all the necessary background information on your group.”

  “You mentioned eight persons. Is that the total group that Munroe Productions handles?”

  “Of course not.” Chantal laughed. “We manage thirty-two singers, some of them well established and well known and others, up and coming artistes who we’re trying to get established in the music industry.”

  “Oh, I thought I’d be working with all your singers.”

  “Oh, no,” Chantal said, shaking her head, “only the ones we’ve had problems with. Mr. Munroe says that’s why you’re here - to help us get them back on track.”

  “Oh.” Summer picked up one of the files and read, ‘Super Cool’. She looked up at Chantal who still stood in the doorway. “And Mr. Munroe…am I to see him today?”

  “Actually, he’d mentioned wanting to be here when you arrived, I guess to get you started on the right foot, but he was suddenly called to a press conference with Rolling Stone Magazine. He should be back some time this afternoon.” Chantal smiled at her reassuringly. “Don’t worry. I won’t leave you to yourself. I’ll check up on you from time to time and, of course, you know where to find me if you need anything.”

  Summer breathed a sigh of relief as the receptionist went through the door. At least she wouldn’t have to face Lance for the next few hours. She had no idea what she would say to him next time they met. The memory of the kiss was still vivid in her mind - the wild beating of her heart when his warm lips touched hers, the way she felt helpless and pliant in his powerful arms. She had relived the moment a hundred times and her heart raced every time. She just hoped that by the time he returned she would have regained her composure. No matter what had happened between them she was determined to remain professional.

  Then another thought crossed her mind and she paused, an open file in her hand. Chantal was a very attractive woman. Could there be anything going on between her and Lance? Lance was a handsome, successful man. He could get practically any woman he wanted and she knew that many women would think nothing of throwing themselves at him.

  Like I did, she thought bitterly, and cursed her moment of indiscretion.

  Anyway, she had no intention of that ever happening again and even if he and Chantal were involved that was certainly none of her business. She picked up the file again and forced herself to concentrate.

  Some time later there was a knock on the door and Summer looked up, startled. The door opened and Chantal peeked in. “It’s ten fifteen. I just wondered if you’d like some coffee or tea?”

  “Ten fifteen already? I feel like I just got here.”

  “It’s been close to two hours.”

  “I guess I was so taken up with these files that I didn’t notice the time. I’d love a cup of tea. Do you have a break room?”

  “We do, but I can bring a cup for you. Tea with sugar?”

  “Yes, please. That’s so nice of you. Tea with sugar would be great.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  When Chantal disappeared Summer looked back at the folder in her hand. It was Top Cat’s file. He was a twenty-one year old rap star who had grown up in Chicago’s south side. He’d had one big hit so far, ‘Just a Kid from the South Side’. Munroe Productions was grooming him to be the next Fifty Cent - young, brash, and hounded by teenage girls all over the country.

  He was popular with the teens but he was also known to have a bad drinking habit. There had been a demonstration on State Street - parents were concerned about the type of role model Top Cat was; they were afraid their children would be influenced by the young rebel. Summer thought of what it would take to improve this tarnished image. She’d have to be very creative but she felt she was up to the task.

  By midday she’d gone through five of the files and had taken copious notes. She’d also begun to formulate a tentative plan of action for each person. This, she would flesh out as she got to know each of them better.

  When she heard a knock at the door she looked up with a smile. Chantal had been so nice to her. She’d probably come to get her for lunch. She had really misjudged the woman.

  “Come in,” she called out and started packing up the files on her desk.

  “Aren’t you going to have lunch, Miss Jones? It’s almost one o’clock.”

  At the sound of the deep masculine voice Summer’s eyes flew to the door. Her heart thumped wildly as she saw Lance standing in the doorway. He seemed even more handsome than ever in a black business suit and striped tie. She felt her face suddenly get hot and she stammered, “Oh…Mr. Munroe. I thought it was Chantal at the door.”

  “Ms. Snow had to go on an errand.” He entered the room as he spoke. “It’s about time you got to know the rest of the staff, at least the ones who are in the office today. They’re in the lunch room.”

  His presence was intimidating in the small office. She sat staring up at him, the memories of his arms, his lips, his strength flooding her mind.

  “Well, are you going to just sit there?” He looked amused.

  She shook her head quickly and rose. “Let me just grab my purse.” As he strolled out the door she grabbed her bag and hurried to catch up.

  There were half a dozen people in the lunch room. Lance told her that the additional five people were out on assignment for the day. He introduced her to Fred Billings, the chief accountant, a kindly-looking gentleman who looked like he was in his fifties. Jennifer French, the office manager, looked almost the same age. Both the engineer, Sean Patrick and the studio manager, Jonathan Brown, were young men; both seemed to be under thirty years old. Abe Williams and Sasha Perez were road managers and both seemed to be the youngest of the group. Summer would guess that neither one of them was older than she.

  After the introduction Lance directed her to the long table on which various cold plates were laid out. There were sandwiches of chicken salad, tuna, roast beef and turkey, as well as cans of soda and bottles of juice and water.

  “Help yourself. I’d like to meet with you at one thirty so you have about forty minutes.”

  When Lance left Summer picked up a cold sandwich platter and sat down at an empty table.

  “Hey,” Abe called. “Don’t sit over there all by yourself.”

  “Come join us.” Sasha tapped the chair beside her.

  “Thank you.” Summer smiled and slipped into the chair.

  Lunch was pleasant but, in Summer’s mind, much too brief. She was dreading the moment when she would be back in Lance’s office - alone. She didn’t know what to expect. She was afraid he would reprimand her or at least make some reference to her less than circumspect behavior.

  To Summer’s surprise Lance didn’t make any reference to the incident at all. On the contrary, he simply spoke to her about her salary and benefits package and asked her to finish going through the files as he wanted her to accompany him on a press conference next day.

  When she put down the last file it was five thirty. Chantal had bid her farewell at least fifteen minutes earlier and had asked if she wasn’t ready to leave but she was determined to complete her task so that she w
ould be free for tomorrow’s press conference.

  When she finally closed the last file she was filled with satisfaction. She collected her purse and left the office with a contented smile on her face.

  That night Summer called her mother at the nursing home, eager to share her good fortune.

  “Mom you’d never believe what happened to me.”

  “What? Did you win the lotto?”

  “Come on, Mom, you know I never buy that stuff. When it comes to luck, I don’t have any.”

  “I know you don’t gamble. I was just teasing.” Edna chuckled into the phone. “So what great thing has happened to you? Don’t keep me in suspense, girl.”

  “Alright, alright.” Summer said, but paused just long enough to torture her mother with the anticipation. “I got another job.”

  “Really? I didn’t even know you were looking for one.” Edna’s voice held a hint of uncertainty. “So how are you going to manage that plus your job at the restaurant?”

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I don’t work at The Southern Belle anymore. I’m now at Munroe Productions. Full-time.”

  “But…I don’t understand.” Edna sounded even more confused. “You always said you couldn’t take a full time job, that you needed the extra time to do your school work. So how are you going to manage?”

  “That’s the beauty of it, Mom. With this job I’m killing two birds with one stone. This job is actually providing me with material for my thesis, so everyday I go to work I’m adding to my research. At this rate, I’ll be done in no time.”

  “I’m happy for you, child. It sounds like a great opportunity. But what exactly are you doing at this new job?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Summer laughed. “I was so excited I forgot the most important part. I’m working on a public relations project for Munroe Productions, a recording company. I’m responsible to come up with human interest stories on eight of their artistes in order to help create a positive image for them. In a nut shell, I’ll be spending a lot of time with these singers so I can get to know them and share the positive side of them with the public.”

  “It sounds interesting.” Edna sounded relieved. “You should have fun with it.”

  “I’m sure I will, Mom. And I can learn so much. I’m just glad I ran into Lance at the restaurant.”

  “Lance? And who’s he?”

  “He’s the owner of Munroe Productions. I met him at the restaurant one night and he offered me this job.”

  “He just met you and offered you a job? I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

  “Mom, you’re always so suspicious. He offered me the job because I mentioned my studies in journalism and communication and he just happened to need someone with that background. It’s like this job was made for me, Ma.”

  “Well, you sound excited so I won’t discourage you. I’m sure you’ll do a great job.”

  “I’ll certainly try my best.” Summer sighed happily.

  Then her thoughts went to the main issue with her mother and her tone changed to one of concern. “Have you heard anything further about the surgery?”

  “No, dear. They’re still waiting on the test results.”

  “But you did those tests over a week ago.”

  “I know, but they did say it would take at least ten days to get the results. Just be patient, dear. We’ll know in good time.”

  “I wish they would hurry up. I can’t stand this waiting.”

  “I’m anxious, too, but worrying about it won’t make things go any faster. Just focus on your new job right now. In just a few days we’ll know if my body is up to this surgery or not.”

  Summer sighed again, “Okay, Mom.” There was a pause then she said softly, “I love you, Mom.”

  “I know you do, dear. And I love you too.”

  When Summer hung up from her mother she dialed Brian’s number. She suddenly needed someone to talk to and he had always lent a listening ear. This was definitely one of those times when she wished she had a best friend.

  ******

  Lance hung up the phone, covered his eyes with a large hand, and leaned back in the plush leather chair. It had been a long day. It was nine in the evening and he’d just hung up from a Kingston record manufacturer. He urgently needed fifty thousand CD’s for immediate distribution in Europe and Japan. After much negotiation he’d gotten the manufacturer to agree to a rush job and, with that agreement, the goods would be shipped to London and Tokyo within three days. The situation had been uncertain but he’d pulled it off. Now he was beat.

  He swung his chair around to face the bay window and the view of the lights of the Chicago skyline and the dark waters of Lake Michigan. He loosened his tie, put his feet up on the window ledge and leaned back, enjoying the silence of the deserted office.

  Sometimes these evenings alone in the office were his most peaceful and often his most productive ones. Without the distraction of the staff and the constant ringing of the telephones he could concentrate on his work without interruption.

  Somehow, though, this evening was different. He felt distracted and decided to call it a night and head for home. He wondered at his lack of concentration. Then he remembered Summer Jones…and the kiss that had taken him totally by surprise.

  A slow smile spread across his lips as he recalled how her lithe body had molded into his and how her normally tight mouth had melted into soft lips that trembled beneath his own. He’d felt her soft breasts pressing against his chest and, at that moment, he lost control. A sudden wave of passion rushed through him and he remembered pulling her close and returning her tentative kiss with one that reflected his desire for her. She must have felt the same attraction because she’d responded willingly, almost eagerly. He loved her passion and momentary abandon. The spitfire was human, after all.

  His thoughts were rudely interrupted by the telephone. Its ring seemed especially loud in the stillness of the empty office and he jumped, startled. He wondered who would be calling the office at that hour.

  “Hello.” His voice was scratchy from lack of use.

  “Hi. Lance?” It was a woman’s voice, husky and breathless, a hint of anxiety in its tone. “I’ve been trying to reach you at home and on your cell phone but I kept getting your voicemail. I just decided to try your office as a last resort. I couldn’t imagine you’d be there so late. You work so hard-”

  “Jennifer.” Lance cut her off abruptly. “Why’d you call? Is everything alright?”

  “Not really, and that’s why I called because I think you should know, with you taking care of her and everything.”

  “Know what?”

  “Michelle is in the hospital.”

  “What happened?”

  “It’s the same problem, Lance. I’m so sick and tired of this damn sickle cell thing. I can’t stand what it’s doing to my baby.”

  Lance felt his head begin to throb. A tension headache was coming on.

  “How is she?” His voice was tight and low.

  “She’s in a lot of pain. This attack was really bad. It started in the afternoon and I took her up to the hospital right away. I was there from almost three o’clock. I just got home half an hour ago.”

  “And you’re just calling me?”

  “I wanted to call you from the hospital but I was in such a hurry I forgot my cell phone at home. But I tried calling you as soon as I got in. I just couldn’t find you.” Jennifer gave a tired sigh. “I kept leaving messages on your voicemail and when I wasn’t getting any reply I finally decided to try your office.”

  “Yes, I heard all that before,” he said impatiently. “So the baby is at the hospital all by herself?”

  “Yes, but don’t worry. The nurses are watching her for me. The matron has my number in case of anything.”

  “Did they have to put her on saline this time?’

  “Yes, and you know how she hates the needles. She cried the whole time but they had to do it. Her eyes almost looked green, it was so bad.” There was a pau
se then she said, “And she was asking for you , Lance.”

  “Oh, God,” he groaned, and began rubbing his temple again. “I’m going to see if I can get a flight out tomorrow.”

  “But you’re so busy! You really think you can make it?”

  He sighed then said, “I was supposed to have a press conference tomorrow but I’ll leave a note for Chantal to cancel it. I’d just mess it up anyway, thinking about Michelle. Don’t worry. I’ll be there.”

  “I’m sorry, Lance. I didn’t mean for you to come. I just wanted you to know what was happening. You know I don’t like to trouble you when you’re busy-”

  “Jennifer, stop it. Please. If you hadn’t called I would have been very angry. You know that. Now just calm down and get some rest. I’ll call you in the morning to let you know what time I’ll be in. Just tell Michelle…” He drew in a deep breath as the migraine attack worsened. “…tell Michelle that I’ll be there.”

  “Okay, Lance. I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye.”

  “Yeah. ‘Bye.”

  As soon as Lance rested the receiver back into the cradle he began to dig around in the desk drawer where he kept a bottle of pain killers. He found it and quickly downed two Ibuprofen capsules, washing them down with the last of the water in the bottle on his desk.

  Whenever he was under stress the migraine attacks would come, swift and severe. Sometimes they were so intense that he felt almost blinded by them. He leaned back in the chair and breathed deeply, willing the pain to go away. He forced his mind to go blank. Then he tried thinking about crystal clear water bubbling over rocks in a stream. After long moments the throbbing gradually subsided and he was finally able to open his eyes again.

  With a groan he rose, grabbed his jacket and his briefcase and walked out the door.

  7

  Summer hoped that Chantal didn’t see the disappointment on her face. The receptionist was advising her that the press conference had been called off and, in fact, Mr. Munroe would not be in for the day. Summer didn’t know which news had affected her more - not getting to do the press conference, or not getting to see Lance.