Omar continued taking his shoes and socks off. Then he pulled off his pants. In his boxers, he offered an apologetic smile. “Didn’t mean to disturb you. I’m getting into bed now, not to worry.” He leaned up and turned off the bedside lamp.
“Do you think you are so darn charming that you can force me to have a wild night with you?”
“Of course not. I told you that I wanted to sleep with you. Here, let me put the pillow right here.” He pulled the pillow close to his arm. “Okay, I’ll let you snuggle until we fall asleep.”
“You’re serious.” Stacy’s incredulity amused him.
He nodded. “Now stop talking, so I can get some sleep.” He scooted his body next to hers and snuggled the back of her neck. If she only knew how much he had to concentrate not to act on his arousal.
On Monday, Omar had no problem getting to work on time. He’d barely slept, what with Stacy breathing heavily in her sleep and her butt pressed into his pelvis. But he wanted her to feel safe and to know that he could exhibit restraint.
One of his colleagues poked his head into his office. “Staff meeting in five minutes.”
He hated being kept in the dark. His planner didn’t reflect any staff meetings. He was supposed to meet with the head of publicity this morning. His plan was to work on each stakeholder who would have a say in his plans for a new documentary.
Since this meeting was impromptu, this was a sign that his boss would be in a foul mood. Something must have happened that couldn’t be handled individually. More than likely, his boss wanted to make an example out of another person.
“Let’s go,” another colleague urged.
By the time they had arrived at the conference room, there was a small traffic jam as they all herded through the doorway. His boss was already in place, scrutinizing each attendee and making notes on a writing pad.
“Let’s get started. I brought you all together to hear of a new idea that will be added to the lineup in early spring. Mr. Baxter will join us. It’s an honor to have the CEO and president sit in on our project from the ground up. Miss Rosa Sanchez, take it away.”
A statuesque Latina with olive-toned skin, sleek black hair and professionally made-up features stood. All the men gasped and the women self-consciously checked themselves. Rosa was a recent hire, apparently. Little to no information was revealed prior to her arrival. Wherever she came from, she commanded each person’s attention. Maybe she was Miss World and the production company wanted to capitalize on her fame.
“Hi, I’m Rosa. I’m so happy to be here, joining the team. I am especially glad to be given the opportunity to start a documentary series where I will focus on the problems in the Latino teen community and bring them to the people who watch our shows. Mr. Baxter and Mr. Henderson are the inspiration for this vision.” She clapped her hands and everyone followed suit. “I think that this will really open up the diversity of our viewing audience.” She smiled toward the staff and resumed her seat.
Stunned, Omar had to force his mouth closed. While everyone chatted excitedly about the new show, he had difficulty focusing on anything. The room seemed too bright. The chatter seemed too loud. The temperature seemed too warm.
“You lucky devil, you’ll be working with that hot new chick,” one of his male coworkers said, openly gawking at Rosa.
“What?” Omar asked, feeling as though his brain had been replaced with thick cotton balls.
“Mr. Henderson announced that she will piggyback on your show for the documentary specials. Gosh, I envy you, man.” His colleague slapped him on the shoulder, a deep chuckle rumbling through his large frame.
Then all of Omar’s senses collided, along with the reality. His feelings, his reaction, everyone’s jubilation and his boss’s betrayal roared back at him like a punch to the gut. He leaned back in his chair to absorb the impact, its sting, to catch his breath.
“You’re looking sick,” Henderson announced, approaching him with a frown. “Hope you’re not catching something.” He stopped a few feet away.
Omar bit back a caustic reply. Instead, he responded, “I’d like to talk to you.”
“Sure. After the meeting, stop by my office.” Henderson grinned. In that instant, Omar knew that this episode was no mistake. He had been given the shaft.
Omar couldn’t wait for the meeting to be over. He didn’t hear anything else that was said. He replayed all the various ways he would go into his boss’s office and tell him where to shove his job.
Finally the meeting ended. While his coworkers offered congratulations to Rosa, Omar chose to leave the room. He had to get his anger in check. Knowing how tenuous holding his temper would be, he grabbed his cell phone and headed out of the building.
“Hey, Pierce.”
“Omar? What’s happening? Haven’t talked to you in a while, little brother.”
“It’s been crazy busy over here. Got a sec?”
“Not really. You caught me between patients. You don’t sound good.”
Suddenly Omar felt stupid calling his big brother for help. He was a man with a good job. Calling Pierce would make him look weak in his brother’s eyes. Although Pierce would be good with doling out the right way to handle this situation, Omar had to learn to do this on his own. “Go back to your patients. I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t believe you, but I do have to run. Omar, come home for a visit. Everyone misses you. I miss you, man.”
“Sure. Talk to you later.” Omar ended the call without a game plan, but he felt more clearheaded after talking to his brother. Pierce must be getting old or fatherhood had softened him quite a bit. They had been on the opposite sides of the spectrum. Pierce had played emotionally removed leader, dictator and big brother. While Omar and his siblings had fallen apart after their mother died and their father had already left, Pierce had steered their ship to safe harbor.
Meanwhile Omar had been the quick-tempered, impulsive character who lived up to all the stereotypes of being the youngest. His anger over the loss of his parents, his rebellious nature, conflicted with the others. He took classes in college that he knew would irritate Pierce. Then, when the family got on his case about a career, he promised to do law to show Pierce that he could be equally as successful in a stable career as he was. Even then he had failed because it was not what he really wanted to do.
He looked up at the large building that was his current place of employment. Here he had thought he had a future. Stacy had waded past his arrogant pickup lines and lover-boy ploys to recommend a job that suited his personality.
In front of the camera, talking with kids and interviewing celebrities, he enjoyed the interactive nature of the job. He’d planned to work hard, impress the powers-that-be and contribute to the success of their programming.
Now he felt as if someone had kicked him in the teeth. His idea that had drawn excitement from the president and been dismissed by his boss had been plucked from him. With no plan in mind, he walked back into the building. At the very least, he wanted to hear what Henderson had to say.
“Omar, good, you’re here. I wondered where you had run off to.”
Omar entered the room that no longer held him in awe. As far as he was concerned, the office had the personality of its owner—cold, dark and unwelcoming.
Henderson pushed a button on his phone console. “Felicia, send in Rosa.”
“I wanted to talk to you in private.”
“Go ahead, but make it quick. I want you and Rosa to start bouncing off ideas.”
“I’m really not understanding what is happening. I came to you with an idea. An idea that you thought I couldn’t do. Yet I get blindsided at that meeting with someone who probably doesn’t have any credentials, now doing my idea,” Omar roared.
“Noted. You had an idea. And it’s great ideas that will keep you employed in this competitive industry. However, ideas don’t bring in the ratings. We need someone that the kids can relate to and trust.”
“I have that now.”
> “Yes, but we are not focusing on a niche. You’ve got the hip-hop generation, but we are going global. We want to hit all kids, regardless of whether they listen to rap. Our demographics have changed. We need to keep up with the times.”
Chapter 9
Rosa Sanchez entered the office, providing her new boss with a dazzling white smile. She offered Omar her hand, which he dutifully shook. The air of conflict had lit the room with volatile tension. Omar stared at the antique desk separating his boss from him in an effort to keep his feelings from being revealed on his face.
“Rosa, Omar has some great ideas for this show. I would like to see you work together so we can get the ball rolling. Any questions?”
Rosa shook her head. Omar didn’t respond.
“Good. You can use my conference room to meet.” Henderson indicated a door off to the side of his office.
“We wouldn’t want to put you out,” Omar said with dripping sarcasm.
“Wouldn’t hear of it. Besides, I might want to look in on both of you to see how you’re doing.”
Omar read the open threat. Now that he’d officially revealed himself as a rebel, he would be watched. Conform or be fired.
He headed for the conference room, knowing that he had to give an illusion of cooperating.
“Rosa, tell me about yourself,” Omar directed.
“I worked with Miami Univision as an assistant editor. Then I heard through the grapevine that UTP was looking for a person fluent in Spanish to host a new show for the burgeoning Latino market. I showed up and auditioned.”
Omar provided his background, not because she asked, but because he felt obligated. This woman had come into the middle of a situation and was completely unaware that she was a pawn in corporate politics.
“So where do we start?” Rosa asked.
“Figured you would be asking me that.” Omar wasn’t going out of his way to ease her transition.
“I just started.” Rosa laughed. “I haven’t even signed my paperwork with Human Resources. I need a little help.”
“Well, this is what I’m going to do for you.” Omar stood. He opened the conference room door and walked into his boss’s office without knocking. “I have to leave to conduct interviews. Rosa needs an orientation. She’s not sure what she’s supposed to be doing. I’ll pick up where you leave off when I return.” He walked out of Henderson’s office, not bothering to wait for a reply.
He walked over to his work area, picked up his jacket, threw it over his arm and headed for the elevators. There comes a time when you measure how much you have to lose. He had a vision that had ignited his passion and that had great possibility. Maybe this place was only a stepping stone, but he would not let them trample and dilute what he wanted to do.
Omar set off to conduct his interviews. The young celebrities had learned to trust him and his instincts. Unlike most reporters who only wanted to highlight controversies, Omar brushed that aside to find the inner workings and influences of his young stars; sometimes revealing their human frailties could help young audience members with their problems.
His growing list of celebrity friends could also help him pursue his dream. His pride could have gotten him in trouble, but he was willing to take the chance. Nothing came easy. Henderson didn’t know that he’d have to deal with the Masterson tenacity.
His phone rang. “Hi, Pierce. I was just thinking about you.”
“Hey, little brother, you didn’t sound good earlier. I wanted to make sure that I caught up with you before I headed home. Talk to me.”
Omar didn’t hesitate to update Pierce. He detailed from landing the job up to the present. He parked at the country club where he would conduct his interview. Since he was twenty minutes early, he continued chatting with Pierce.
“What do you need from me?” Pierce asked, after Omar finished talking to him.
“I was calling for advice.”
“It’s too late for my input. You’ve taken some decisive actions.”
“Guess it is.” Omar exhaled, and rubbed his hand over his tensed face.
“Or it could be that I don’t have any advice to give you. I think, little brother, that you have graduated.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Sounds like you handled things the way you should have.”
“Whoa! This is a moment.” Omar laughed along with his brother. “Remind me to say thank-you to Haley for making you a lovable teddy bear.”
“You do and I’ll have to give you the death grip.”
Omar remembered how much he and his older brother had fought as kids, a constant irritant to each other. Then all of that had changed when they’d lost their parents. His brother had gone through a rapid metamorphosis from child to adult, raising his younger siblings. All Omar’s anger at missing out on what his older siblings had enjoyed with their parents had simmered. His brother could say that the sky was blue and he’d argue and fight him that the sky was red as a way to rebel.
Leaving his hometown in Maryland and his sister’s home in Atlanta, he had finally struck out on his own. With his job, and with Stacy now a part of his life, he believed that he’d grown up.
“I’ve listened to what you have planned and it sounds fantastic. I’ll support you in whatever way you need,” Pierce said.
“Thanks, bro. That means a lot.”
“Look, I’m serious. Why don’t you come down for a long weekend? And why don’t you bring that girl you told me you are seeing. You know your big sis would want to meet her.”
“Sheena will give her hell. I remember how she treated Haley.”
“And now they are best friends, a bit too much bonding, if you ask me. I’m outnumbered.” Pierce laughed.
“Okay, let me see what I can do, especially with Stacy’s busy schedule.” Omar looked at his watch. “Gotta run.” He hung up.
Now his mood soared. He had an hour ahead of him that promised to be fun and informative. Then he’d return to work and survey the damage. Now that his emotions had settled, he also knew that he owed Rosa an apology. He might not be happy that she had come on board to take charge of his idea, but it was not her fault. However, he didn’t plan to give up on his version of the documentary.
Stacy had awakened fully rested in Omar’s arms. He was already awake, looking down at her. She snuggled closer, enjoying the warmth emanating from his body. It had been so long since she’d experienced such calmness, and this was the first time that she’d fallen in love. And what a glorious fall it was.
“Are we going to stay in this position all day?” Stacy asked, stretching her arms and legs.
“I’ve got to get to work, but we can continue later today.”
“Promise?” She kissed the tip of his nose.
“Pinky swear.” They performed the childhood ritual for promises.
“I’m dying to make love to you.” Stacy took his hand and slid it over her breast.
“The feeling is mutual, but I promised that we would only sleep together. Consider it a quick abstinence. The next time we make love, I’m calling the shots.”
“That’s fine.” Stacy smirked at him. He was just wrong, making her feel like this.
“On that note, I have to go to work.” He slid out of the bed and retrieved his clothes. “Got to head home and get cleaned up. Yesterday was unplanned on lots of levels.”
Stacy groaned, not happy with the coldness that invaded her space when Omar stood up. She hugged her pillow and watched him dress. “Are you eating breakfast?”
Omar shook his head. “I’ll grab a cup of coffee on the way in.” As he buttoned his shirt, he looked down at her. “What’s the plan for your day?”
Stacy shrugged. She didn’t want to think about what she had to do. She had reconciled differences with Brenda. Her impromptu meeting with Antonio made her rethink what she wanted to do. She wanted to talk to Brenda before anyone else.
“Call if you need me.” Omar kissed her mouth, gave her nose a playful tap and
left.
Her phone rang. Omar took the cue to leave. Stacy answered the phone, still thinking about Omar.
“Good morning, Stacy, it’s Brenda. We need to get started with everything early. I need you to come over soon. I’ve got appointments lined up all day.”
“Sure.” Stacy cut the telephone conversation short. She had some major issues to discuss. She wasn’t about to lay down an ultimatum with Brenda, but she had to be on board.
Stacy deliberated over her wardrobe and selected a trim black-and-white fitted suit. She brushed her hair into a ponytail with a flip on the end. Although she preferred to go without makeup, she added a little eye color and foundation to hide any imperfections. Her neutral colors enhanced her mixture of Native-American and African-American features.
An hour later, Stacy sat in Brenda’s office. Brenda was the image of cool control. She had also chosen a black suit, but hadn’t broken the monochromatic theme with another color. Her signature Afro hairstyle appeared to have been recently trimmed.
“You will head to the studio for the animation-picture audition,” Brenda directed. “Then I’ll need you to fly to New York because one of the directors wants to talk to you about a guest spot on an off-Broadway play. You’ll come back tomorrow, then we have to start on the new album. There are several pieces that have been written for you.”
In a snap, Stacy knew why this business held such a bittersweet feeling. She came alive onstage, pouring her heart out, sharing with her audience. Yet the behind-the-scenes absolutely drained her. She hated days that seemed to have no end because she flew through time zones and awoke before the sun broke through the horizon.
“Stacy, don’t start pouting and blocking me out,” Brenda warned. “Don’t let Antonio mess with your head.”
What she felt had nothing to do with Antonio. “I’m doing this because it will help fund what I want to do.”
“And what is that?”
“Don’t worry. It’s nothing in the entertainment field. My own private venture that I’m feeling compelled to do.”
Straight to the Heart Page 12