by Ines Saint
Horror-stricken, Kayla couldn't do anything but stare at the TV. She knew who'd stolen the show. Her phone buzzed, and her gaze slid down. It was a message from Jess: Is there something you forgot to tell me???!!!
* * *
It was almost six p.m. and Jake and Marcus were still working. When Filip invited them across the street to have tacos and nachos with some of the local kids, they quickly agreed, knowing Filip wouldn't go home until he was sure they'd eaten. Alana, Filip's wife of forty-five years, had passed away last year, and he was never in a hurry to go home anymore.
"I want you to know that Kayla is an amazing young woman. You'll enjoy working with her," Filip remarked as they crossed the street.
Kayla. Kayla Diaz. Or Miss Diaz as Jake planned on calling her. He needed to put that distance between them. Something about her disrupted his sense of control. And he knew that men who let women have any kind of power over them ended up failing in their commitments. His own father had taught him that lesson well, by abandoning his family and devastating his wife one too many times over nothing more than lust.
"I'll only need three meetings, about two hours each, to pick her brain and discuss ideas. I don't need to enjoy working with her," Jake replied.
"Still. I know you like to surround yourself with loyal, honest people, and that's my Kayla."
My Kayla? Did Filip adopt everyone?
They reached the entrance, and the spicy scent of South Side Taqueria wafted out to beckon them in. "Did you tell them to put the order on my tab?" Jake asked, suddenly remembering Filip liked to treat the kids with his own money.
"My fireman's pension is more than enough to treat these kids to a fun meal now and then. It makes me feel useful."
Jake quickly backed off. He didn't want his friend spending his own money, but he understood. Filip often told him about his family's roots in Chicago. From the very beginning, Nowaks had a proud history of doing honest work and being helpful to their community. They'd worked in everything from the Michigan Canal, the railroad, the steel mills, and the lumber wharves, to the public school system, and the police and fire departments. Jake knew Filip wouldn't be happy if he didn't feel he was personally contributing.
They sat down at the rec room table Marcus had claimed, and Jake welcomed the noisy atmosphere. A couple of kids were playing air hockey, and a few teen girls were sitting around watching the annoying hosts of She Said, She Said. Others were hanging out, their homework already completed with the help of volunteer tutors.
"So, tell me, when are you both finally going to find wonderful women to marry and make happy homes and happy babies?" Filip asked, before biting into a soft chicken taco.
"Never," Jake answered.
"In five years, when I've helped enough politicians win high profile races, and a news network hires me as a senior political analyst. I'll be teaching political science at a local college, and married to a seriously smart, seriously gorgeous woman, and have a house full of beautiful babies. I'll invite you two over, and we can sit by my pool and barbecue," Marcus answered, quite seriously. Jake and Marcus had met as freshmen in college, and Marcus had immediately outlined his twenty-year plan.
"So Jake, am I to die and not bounce your children on my knee?" Filip asked.
"Yes, you and my mother both. You can shake your heads at me from the great beyond and have long, detailed discussions about what's wrong with me," Jake said with an affectionate smile.
For a moment, Filip just concentrated on his taco. When he finished it off, he wiped his hands on a napkin, leaned back as if lost in thought and said, "My father used to smoke these rich, sweet-smelling Arturo Fuente cigars he'd buy at Old Town every once in a while, when he felt the need to indulge in something special. After he died there were several times when I wasn't sure what my next step in life would be, and I wished badly he could be there, to help guide me. And I tell you that the scent of those particular cigars would reach me in those times and suddenly I would know what I needed to do. How am I going to reach you, Jake, when I'm no longer here? The good Lord knows you need more help than I ever did."
Jake put his taco down and swallowed uncomfortably. To hear Filip discuss his death so casually made him lose his appetite. "I don't know, Filip," Jake he said, wanting to rid himself of the awful feeling. "I'm not sure what scent reminds me of you." He pretended to take a whiff and said, "Bengay, maybe? With... a hint of Vicks VapoRub? It's not exactly the sweet smell of cigars, Filip, but I guess it'll have to do."
Marcus laughed, too and Filip chuckled, shaking his head at the lost cause that was Jake.
The older man had been in Jake's life since he was a young boy. He'd been seriously injured in the line of duty during a warehouse fire, but he'd been unwilling to stop working altogether. Jake's father had hired him as the superintendent of one of his buildings; the one Jake and his mother lived in on Chicago's Gold Coast. Jake had been only ten, but they had become fast friends, with Jake following Filip everywhere. Fixing leaky pipes and broken locks, painting, finding short circuits, and everything else Filip had been hired to do had been far more interesting to Jake than any video game.
And seeing the pride, Filip took in every job and listening to his ideas of what a good citizen should be made him think hard about his own decisions and his future.
Laughter from one end of the room brought Jake back to the present and to his taco. He tried to take a bite.
"Dang Jake, that's hot!" a voice rang out.
"Caliente!" Another yelled. A few whistled.
Jake looked up to see what they were talking about. His mouth went instantly dry, and he again found he was unable to swallow.
There, on the large screen, was a picture of him and Kayla. He was leaning toward her and looking into her eyes. The taco crumbled in his hand as four admittedly captivating pictures of two people completely into each other flashed on the screen.
The images on the screen now gone, Jake couldn't hear what the women of She Said, She Said was saying because the entire rec room had erupted into catcalls and whistles.
"Is there, uh, something you forgot to tell me?" Marcus asked. Filip laughed.
* * *
Later that night, after Graciela and Mia had gone to bed, Tania and Kayla Googled Jake Kelly. Kayla had been away almost three years, and she didn't know anything about the Chicago political scene and its players.
The shock of having been on She Said, She Said and on a small segment of the evening news had not worn off, but she did feel a little better about it because Jess had been right; the fact that Jake had hired her, and that she had accepted, despite a very vocal disagreement during his press conference had gone over well. Both newscasters had commended both him and her over it. And Tania had assured her that although the public would be curious about the pictures and over what her "real" relationship with Jake was for a few days, the attention would soon wear off. Nothing lasted long in today's news cycle, and that, Kayla knew, was true. Despite still feeling uneasy, her only choice was to deal with whatever came her way.
"Wow, look at his mother." Tania broke into her thoughts. Kayla's eyes widened. It was obvious Patricia Kelly had gone through numerous plastic surgeries. The skin around her eyes, mouth, and forehead was too tight, and the lift of her eyelids and eyebrows gave her a look of being perpetually surprised.
The picture was part of an article about how Jake's late father had left them numerous times, always coming back, until five years before he died. He left permanently that time, filing for divorce and then quickly marrying a much younger woman. It was then that Patty, as the first Mrs. Kelly was known to her friends, began going through her surgeries.
How sad, Kayla thought, remembering how her own father's eyes had shone every evening when he came home to his wife and family.
The article said Jake was very close to his mother and very protective of her. Interestingly, Edward Kelly had changed his will a few months before his death and left very little to his new wife, who in turn
married her chauffeur and moved to London a few weeks after the funeral.
It was like one of the novelas her mother so enjoyed, but in a reality where people, like Jake and his mom, got hurt.
"You know, I remember how disliked his father was," Tania said thoughtfully, tapping the picture of Edward Kelly on the screen. "He went into poorer neighborhoods that held potential because of their proximity to the loop, bought up property, forced tenants out by underhanded means, and then tore buildings down to build luxury condos instead." That was so awful. Kayla thought about how Jake had instead focused his efforts on mixed-income developments that helped neighborhoods. It was so needed! But his opponents minimized his successes by pointing out he’d used his “daddy’s money”, and they now accused him of using it all as a jumping board for politics. Hopefully, she’d figure him out.
"Will you be volunteering with school music departments again?” her sister asked.
Kayla nodded. "Yes. I have to find the time."
She listened to Tania, read the stories, and looked at the pictures, completely engrossed in the story of a life so different from her own, unable to understand why her memory of the night they danced was colored in such a rosy glow. She wondered how Jake Kelly had reacted to tonight's evening news. He had no choice but to remember her now, but it didn't matter. Clearly, she hadn't made the impact on him that he'd made on her. Bad for her pride, but good for their working relationship.
Chapter 4
"WKIX, WHCH and the Tribune all held informal polls during the weekend, and your numbers are up in each and every category where you were down!" A pumped-up Jess threw her purse onto a chair the moment she and Kayla stepped into Jake's office. "People love that Kayla is so different from the women you're usually associated with and that you tolerated her putting you in your place like that!" Jess's huge Cheshire cat grin wavered when she noticed both Jake and Kayla were glaring at her. She piped down. "Politically speaking, it's good news," she added in a smaller voice.
Social media had grabbed onto the story, and the pictures had been printed in the society pages of Sunday's Tribune under the caption: "Cold fish Jake Kelly linked to smart, talented, beautiful and feisty Kayla Diaz." Kayla had to admit she was flattered, and her battered pride was battered no more, but her stomach was tied up in knots. The entire city seemed to think that she and Jake were romantically involved. And they liked it. She didn't want that kind of attention.
"I'm sorry I didn't recognize you," Jake's voice cut through her thoughts. She met his troublesome eyes—troublesome because one look from him made her tingle, annoying her to no end—and offered him a conciliatory nod. "I should have," he continued. "Because that was my one and only dance lesson, ever, but I've never been good with faces."
So. He should've remembered because it was his "one and only dance lesson, ever." Not because of any other reason. Well. At least he'd apologized. The politician in him probably recognized no woman wanted to be forgotten. And she didn't want him feeling the way she'd felt anyway. Two people sharing a transitory physical attraction could spell trouble for a working relationship. And for life in general.
"Neither of you recognized each other? For real?" Marcus held the paper up for them to see. The photographer had caught them at an unfortunate moment in the lesson. It was like looking at one of the iconic stills of Baby and Johnny in the movie Dirty Dancing. With the roles of teacher and student reversed.
Kayla stifled and sigh and wished she could lie, but Jess knew her too well. Reluctantly, she admitted, "I recognized him, but it was obvious he didn't recognize me, so I didn't mention it. It wasn't at all important or relevant, anyway. It was only a dance lesson—one of three I taught that night."
Marcus looked at Jake and shook his head. "I can't believe you didn't recognize her, I mean, your eyes seem to be boring into her in this picture."
Marcus had apologized profusely in the parking lot where he met Kayla and Jess for not being fully on board, and she'd thought him mature. Now she wasn't so sure.
"That's the way you're supposed to dance salsa like you're into each other. He was following my regular instructions," Kayla explained, eager now to get any awkwardness between her and Jake out of the way. At the moment, she couldn't even look at him.
Jess let out a swish of satisfied breath and looked around her as if at peace with the entire world. "You know, I had a feeling you would be good for the campaign, which is weird because your actual role in the grand scheme of things is really quite small, but I'm telling you I just knew."
Kayla's phone buzzed, and although she would have ignored it under normal work-related circumstances, she needed something to focus on other than Jess's zeal and Jake's indifference. She glanced down. Good to know you'd moved on even before I'd even let you go, the dramatic message read. Kayla groaned under breath.
"What's the matter?" Jess asked before peering over her shoulder. "Oh. Dang it. I'd forgotten about Brandon," she said.
"Who's Brandon?" Marcus asked.
"Brandon is... Kayla's quasi-ex-boyfriend."
Kayla looked up to see Jake's eyes were on her, watching her intently.
A moment later, he got up. "All right, guys, that's enough, we need to get to work," he said. "Jess, please release a statement that Miss Diaz and I only have a working relationship. This will all die down soon enough."
Jess frowned. "Why do we have to say anything at all?" she asked, clearly not wanting to put a lid on the positive press.
Exasperation made Kayla say, "Because I need Brandon to know there's absolutely nothing between me and Mr. Kelly except a working relationship, which will soon be over."
"Well, at least the whole thing brought attention to the music program you'd establish if you're elected," Jess muttered.
"Right, so if you'll excuse us, Miss Diaz and I need to get down to business."
* * *
Jess and Marcus left, and Jake looked away from Kayla's troubled eyes. What the hell was a quasi-ex-boyfriend? And, more importantly, why did he care?
He pushed both thoughts away and motioned Kayla over to the glass-top conference table where they'd be working. She picked up her briefcase and walked over, her pencil skirt revealing hips that swayed gently with every step. He took a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling, and cursed inwardly. It was Monday, and he had tons of work to do. He didn't have time to be distracted by swaying hips.
The only reason he'd agreed to meet with her so early the first day of the week was that he knew she'd be able to catch a ride with Jess that way. For some bizarre reason, the idea of her lugging around that violin case and an overflowing briefcase of hers all over Chicago's Transit System bothered him. "All right Miss Diaz, where do you think we should start?" he asked, sitting down.
"Please, call me Kayla," she said, and walk past him again to sit down at the opposite side of the table. She opened her briefcase, took out a few pages, and tried to pass them to him, stretching as far across the table as she could. He would've had to stretch, too, to reach them, but he was unwilling to look ridiculous. "Miss Diaz, don't you think it makes sense for you to sit closer? I know we keep getting off to bad starts, but I don't bite." The look she gave him told him she didn't quite believe him, but she got up and sat closer to him anyway, and quickly delved into an introduction of her ideas, her demeanor now formal and detached.
Little by little, though, as she dug deeper into a subject matter she was clearly passionate about, her formality gave way to unbridled enthusiasm. Jake was drawn in by both her knowledge and vibrancy and after asking a few questions, he sat back and watched her speak. Her eyes shone, and she had a tendency to use gestures to punctuate her speech, but her movements were graceful. It was difficult to take his eyes off of her.
When they got to the drier budget and numbers part, Jake learned she had a quick mind, capable of turning the problems he threw at her around in her head and coming up with possible solutions in no time. But inexplicably, the more they got into the technical, num
erical side of things—usually his favorite side, the more he wanted to see her animated again.
"And at what age did you begin to play?" he asked, careful to keep his tone sedate as if he were merely trying to further understand the world of children and instruments. And he was immediately rewarded with a soft smile.
"Third grade. I was so fortunate. My mom was able to get me into a school with a music program when I began to show an interest. It was further away, but my dad worked a second shift, and was able to take me."
"They must be really proud, your parents," he said and looked back down at the page in front of him to signal the end of that little segment of conversation. It was better not to get personal. Too late he remembered Jess had told him Kayla's father had been a policeman, killed in the line of duty.
"They were. I mean, my mom still is, and my dad really was..." she hesitated before taking a quick breath and saying, "But he died eleven years ago, and I was only fifteen, so he didn't really get to see how his dedication paid off."
"I'm sorry," he said, and fixed his gaze on her, hoping she'd see he was sincere.
She nodded and picked up the page in front of her. They went back to numbers for a while, Kayla detailing the budget she'd worked with in Pittsburgh and the deficiencies she'd felt the program there had. But curiosity about her got the better of him again. He cleared his throat. "Jess mentioned you just moved back, are you planning to stay here in Chicago?"
"I want to," she replied, her expressive eyes taking on a worried look. "I adore my family, and I love this city. I'm connected to it, here," she said, touching her heart. "And I feel like I'm never as alive anywhere else. But it's not up to me. It depends on where my career will take me."
Jake searched her eyes, surprised at how well he understood the emotions behind them. "I understand. I could never live anywhere else." It came out with more feeling than he'd intended and made him realize, once again, that he had to stick to the technical stuff.