by Mason Dixon
“Understood.”
After he gathered his belongings, Destiny escorted him out of the building. Rashida watched him pull out his cell phone and presumably call his wife to let her know he had been fired.
“Some days I hate my job,” Rashida said when Destiny returned.
“You did what you had to do,” Destiny said softly.
“But that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.”
“Let’s grab some dinner and put the whole thing behind us.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Grabbing dinner or putting today behind us?” Destiny flashed a crooked grin.
“When we ended our conversation last night, I thought it was with the understanding our relationship would be strictly professional.”
“It has been.”
“Your invitation to dinner didn’t feel like a casual request.”
Another of those crooked grins. “What did it feel like?”
It felt like an invitation to another night of ridiculously hot sex. An invitation Rashida couldn’t accept.
“Being with you was nothing less than amazing,” she said, trying to keep Destiny at bay once and for all. “What happened between us was something I will treasure for the rest of my life, but it can never be repeated.”
“I don’t believe that.”
Destiny was standing firm. Rashida had expected as much. When was the last time she had encountered such resistance? And why should she keep fighting when giving in was so damn tempting?
“I’m paid to enforce the rules, not ignore them.”
“But breaking them is so much more fun. Don’t you agree?”
“Did you read the employee contract before you signed it? When you put your name on the dotted line, you guaranteed what happened Tuesday night will not happen again as long as we work for the same organization.”
“I know what I signed. I know what it meant.” Destiny took a step forward. “But I want you, Rashida. I can still taste you.”
Rashida ignored the intense satisfaction those words provided. She ignored the way her body responded to Destiny’s voice. The memory of her touch. She resorted to professional detachment to guide her along the most uncertain path she had ever tread.
“I could write you up for sexual harassment, which is a fireable offense.”
“I know. I read that contract, too.” Destiny’s tone softened. “You could write me up, but you won’t. Not when you’d rather take me home so we can pick up where we left off the last time we were there. Am I right?”
“No,” Rashida said, even though every fiber of her being was compelling her to say yes. “Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be. Promise me this line of questioning ends tonight.”
Destiny squared her shoulders. “You’re going to have to fire me, because I can’t promise you that. Can you?”
Jackie rushed over before Rashida could respond.
“Quick,” Jackie said. “Pat me on the back.”
“For?”
“Having the good sense to hire this woman right here.” Jackie pinched Destiny’s cheeks like a proud mother. “You saved our bacon, girl.”
“I was simply doing the job you hired me to do.”
Destiny looked vaguely uncomfortable. Was she embarrassed by Jackie’s effusive praise or her own insubordination?
Jackie gazed at both of them intently. “Did I interrupt something?”
“No,” Rashida said quickly. In order to avoid a lecture about bad decisions, she hadn’t told Jackie she and Destiny had slept together. Why should she? It was a one-night stand. Something to be remembered fondly but not repeated. No matter how much she longed for an encore.
“Actually, yes, you did,” Destiny said with another of her knee-buckling grins. “Miss Ivey and I were trying to decide where to go for dinner. She wanted to thank me for the tip I gave her on how to locate the missing money.”
Rashida clenched her teeth and kept her mouth shut. Protesting would draw attention, not deflect it. At the moment, attention was the last thing she needed.
“Whatever you do, don’t let Rashida decide,” Jackie said. “She always eats sushi when she’s stressed. I like my fish battered in buttermilk and fried to within an inch of its life, not raw and flopping on the plate.”
“What is it about sushi that relaxes you so much?”
Rashida found Destiny’s desire to get to know her hard to resist. Instead of walking away after getting what Rashida thought she wanted, Destiny kept coming back. What she wanted was apparently more of the same. How long would it be before Rashida gave in to a desire that mirrored her own? A desire she had to keep in check, no matter how great the personal sacrifice.
“It’s impossible to be in a hurry when you’re eating with chopsticks. Eating Asian food forces me to slow down. It helps me find my moorings when I feel I’ve been set adrift.”
She had felt something similar the first time she’d looked into Destiny’s eyes. Like she’d found shelter during a storm. She and Destiny were consenting adults. Who would it hurt if they formed a relationship? Who would have to know? She would, that’s who. And that was one too many. She had advanced to this stage in her career by following the rules both written and understood. She wasn’t about to change now.
“If chopsticks were all I had to eat with, I’d probably starve to death,” Destiny said with a self-effacing laugh.
“Rashida could teach you. She’s a wiz with those things. She could probably snag a fly out of the air like they do in all those old kung fu movies. In fact, I keep expecting her to pack up one day and leave her life here behind like the adventure seekers on House Hunters International. I can be the best friend who tags along just to get free face time on TV.”
“When I begin looking for a place to retire, I’ll be sure to keep your comfort in mind,” Rashida said.
“You’d do that, leave the only life you’ve known to start fresh somewhere else?”
There it was again. That desire to know what made her tick. Did she want Destiny inside her head when she was already making inroads into her heart? Too late. She was already there.
“She’d do it in a heartbeat if she could decide which country she wants to live in besides this one.”
Once more, Jackie answered for Rashida before she could answer for herself. If this kept up, she would have to hire Jackie as her official spokesperson.
“Don’t make it too exotic, okay?” Jackie said. “I’d like to be able to sample the local cuisine when I pay you a visit. I’m not trying any chocolate-covered crickets or beef tongue. I don’t want to eat anything that can be used as bait or can taste me back.”
“In my humble opinion,” Destiny said, “there’s something to be said for both.”
Rashida couldn’t look Destiny in the eye. If she did, she thought she might spontaneously combust. “Are we actually going to have dinner or are we going to stand here all night talking about it?”
“It’s your night, Destiny,” Jackie said. “Where do you want to celebrate?”
“There’s a barbecue place on MLK I’ve heard raves about. What do you say we give it a try?”
“Sounds good to me,” Jackie said. “What do you say, Rashida?”
Rashida wanted to pick up some takeout and head home so she could begin putting yet another long day behind her, but she knew she was outnumbered. She used her company credit card to pay for dinner, an expense she didn’t think she’d have much trouble getting approval for from the pencil pushers in the accounting department. By thwarting Tony’s attempted theft, Destiny had saved the bank much more than the sixty bucks she forked over for appetizers, dinner, and drinks.
After the meal, Destiny walked Rashida and Jackie to their cars in the unpaved but well-lit parking lot. Rashida could tell Destiny wanted to pick up their conversation where they’d left off before Jackie interrupted them, but Jackie’s lingering presence made that impossible.
“Good night, you two. Good job tod
ay,” she said before she escaped to the safety of her car. Her cell phone rang before she barely made it to the intersection of MLK and Bay Street. She punched the hands-free controls as she turned right at the traffic light. “Rashida Ivey.”
“How was it?” Jackie asked.
Rashida maneuvered into traffic on downtown Savannah’s main artery. “I told you that was the best brisket I’ve had in years.”
“I’m not talking about the food and you know it. You had sex with Destiny.”
Rashida stomped on the brakes to keep from running into the back of a Honda Accord with out of state plates. “What?”
“Don’t you dare try to deny it. Every time she licked barbecue sauce off her fingers tonight, I thought I was going to have to peel you off the ceiling. Did you sleep with her before or after I hired her?”
Rashida reluctantly revealed her secret. “After you made the offer but before she signed the paperwork.”
“So she was technically an employee but not officially. That argument might hold up in the court of public opinion. I’m not so sure about a court of law. Have you slept with her since Tuesday?”
“No. I’ve made it clear it was a one-time thing, but she doesn’t seem to be taking the hint.”
“Do you want her to?”
The question caught Rashida by surprise. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Rashida, it’s me. I’m not your boss. I’m your friend. You can talk to me. I’m on your side no matter what, remember?”
Rashida closed her eyes, wishing she’d never allowed herself to end up in such a compromising situation. But hadn’t the pleasure been worth the pain? “There’s nothing to talk about, Jackie.”
“Is that why you didn’t tell me what happened between you?”
“It was just one night. It didn’t mean anything.”
“Are you sure?”
“I was just taking your advice—letting someone knock the dust off.”
“I never thought you’d actually go through with it.”
“Neither did I.”
“Are you glad you did? How was it?” Jackie asked the questions in rapid-fire succession as if she were living vicariously through Rashida. “You looked so sprung in the restaurant she must have really put something on you.”
Rashida squeezed her legs together as pleasurable memories flooded her body. “You have no idea.”
Jackie grew characteristically pragmatic. “You’re not going to continue seeing her, are you? Surely you aren’t willing to risk your career for great sex.”
“I could buy a vibrator if all I wanted was to get off.” Talking with someone she knew she could trust, Rashida allowed herself to be completely honest. “For a few hours, she made me happy. Happier than I’ve been in a long time. I liked the feeling.”
“You don’t sound happy about it.”
“Because I’m not.” She bit her lip as the impossibility of the situation hit home. “The question is, what do I do about it?”
Chapter Eight
Friday, March 10
4:15 p.m.
Savannah, GA
“Ready to go?” Harry Collins ran a hand through her short auburn hair. The thick tresses lifted away from her face and fell perfectly back into place. Harry wasn’t what most people would call conventionally beautiful, but her raw-boned looks were striking. She used them to charm business associates and paramours alike. She was using them now. Or trying to. “If we leave now, we can just manage to beat the five o’clock traffic.”
“Martin isn’t expecting us until six,” Rashida said. “We have plenty of time. And I have a report to finish.”
Harry reached across the desk and snapped Rashida’s laptop shut. “The report can wait. When was the last time you let your hair down and had some fun?”
Tuesday night when I rutted like a horny teenager in the front seat of my car.
She needed to put that night out of her mind. Harry was the perfect person to help her do it. Harry had raised casual sex to an art form. Rashida didn’t know her well enough to confide in her about her own foray into the medium, but she hoped by spending time with her away from the office, she could learn how to put her night with Destiny behind her. She reached for her phone. “Give me five minutes. I need to make sure Jackie can cover for me if I leave early.”
“Don’t take too long. You know Highway 278 can turn into a parking lot in a heartbeat.”
The main road onto Hilton Head Island was a congested four-lane highway that should have been at least two lanes wider. Depending on traffic, the forty-mile journey from downtown Savannah could take anywhere from forty-five minutes to twice that number.
“Call Martin and let him know we’re going to be early,” Rashida said while she waited for Jackie to pick up. “See if he can meet us in Bluffton instead. That will buy us some time for the drive home.”
“Good idea.”
Harry pulled out her cell phone. While she told Martin about their change in plans, she crossed her legs at the ankles and propped them on the edge of Rashida’s borrowed desk. The hem of her skirt rode halfway up her curvy thighs. Even on casual Friday, Harry was dressed to the nines. Her black pencil skirt was paired with patent leather stiletto heels, a set of pearls, and a light blue button-down shirt with the bank’s logo embroidered above the left breast.
Rashida, who had nixed her usual Friday jeans and tennis shoes in favor of khaki pants and loafers in order to look presentable at their meeting with Martin, kept her eyes focused on Harry’s face, a view equally as appetizing but decidedly less dangerous. Harry was forty-two, successful, and involved in a twenty-year marriage of convenience with her brother’s best friend, a union that softened Harry’s hard-edged image while simultaneously butching up her husband’s. Rashida had never professed to understand their relationship but couldn’t deny it seemed to work for them. Both Harry and her husband, Jared, had wildly successful careers while keeping their extramarital activities hush-hush.
Harry covered her cell phone with her hand. “Is Pepper’s Porch good for you?”
Rashida nodded. The little out-of-the-way restaurant looked like someone’s house, but the food that came out of the kitchen was practically five-star. She loved the dichotomy between the place’s down-home exterior and uptown menu—and the local musicians who provided entertainment in the Back Bar and Dining Room were all incredibly talented.
“What’s up, boss?” Jackie asked.
“My six o’clock has been moved up an hour. Can you handle any emergencies that crop up between now and closing?”
“If I say yes, will you promise to clue me in on all the extra meetings you’ve been attending lately? That’s two this week alone.”
Rashida and Harry were meeting with Martin Foster to discuss the potential buyback of the mortgage office Low Country Savings once owned and Martin now managed. She hated keeping Jackie in the dark, but it was still much too soon to bring her into the loop. “You’ll be the first to know.”
“I don’t need to be the first. Just make sure I’m not the last. And don’t forget to give me a heads-up if I need to start polishing my résumé. I don’t want to be caught by surprise if some company swoops in and wants to buy us out.”
If everything went according to plan, Low Country Savings would be the one doing the buying, not the other way around. “It’s a deal.”
“Do I need to cover for you tomorrow, too?”
Rashida was tempted to say yes simply to avoid beginning yet another weekend tethered to her phone for four hours. “No, I can manage.”
“In that case, enjoy your meeting. I’ll see you next week.”
“Jared has plans tonight,” Harry said when she finished her own conversation. “Which means I’m footloose and fancy-free for the evening. Our dinner with Martin shouldn’t take more than a couple hours, three if he gets really long-winded. The sooner we finish taking his temperature, the sooner we can go to Club One and unwind.”
When Rashida was in college, Club One w
as the go-to gay bar in Savannah, the place where she’d broken out of her cocoon and first tested her wings. Where she’d first danced with a woman without feeling awkward or out of place. It was where she’d first kissed one without worrying who might be watching.
Like so many establishments in the Hostess City, Club One became a tourist attraction after the publication of John Berendt’s infamous tell-all Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. Gay Savannahians of all ages still went to see The Lady Chablis and her fellow female impersonators strut their stuff during the twice-nightly drag shows, but they had to fight through crowds of curious, camera-wielding heterosexuals to do it.
Rashida preferred the old days when Savannah’s most popular dance club was a well-kept secret. She was all for inclusion, but there was something to be said for exclusivity, too.
“Do you want to take your car or mine?” she asked as she and Harry rode the elevator downstairs.
“I’ll drive, but we’ll need to stop by your place after our meeting. I want to get out of these heels before we go dancing tonight.”
“Do you always keep a change of clothes in your car?”
The elevator doors slid open and Rashida stepped into the lobby, which was filled with hourly workers cashing their paychecks. She felt a twinge of guilt for leaving early when everyone else was so busy. Harry grabbed her arm and pulled her forward before she could change her mind.
“It pays to be prepared,” Harry said with a wink. “You never know when an opportunity might present itself. And there’s one opportunity I hope presents itself real soon.”
Destiny, her arms folded behind her back like a soldier standing at ease, nodded in their direction. “Ladies.”
Harry’s eyes crawled over Destiny’s body. The hungry look in them matched the ravenous expression on her face. Rashida fought to dispel what felt like jealousy as Harry sidled up to Destiny’s side.
“I hear you’ve had an adventurous first week,” Harry said. “I hope the excitement hasn’t scared you off.”
“I don’t scare easily, Mrs. Collins.”