Crush

by Lovely, Lutishia; Grant, Michele; Rax, Cydney

  Lois grabbed her iPad and followed Chaz into his office, noting a broad back and long legs that supported a six-foot-two-inch, mocha-colored frame. She took deep breaths to still her pounding heart and tried to put a casual look on her face, to act as if it was just another Monday—business as usual. A difficult task, since every time she looked at Chaz, she saw the acts described in the letter she’d destroyed.

  “What are we looking at so far?” Chaz asked. Always the multitasker, he turned on his computer and checked e-mails while listening.

  “You have two conference calls and a Skype meeting with the litigator for the Jimenez case,” Lois began, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. “The interview with Roy Jones is scheduled for one o’clock this afternoon—”

  “Police-chase victim, correct?” Chaz scrolled through his e-mails, deleting several without opening them.

  “Yes,” Lois answered. “And then there’s the celebratory meeting with Mrs. Smith at three o’clock.” Delicia Smith had been severely injured due to a machine malfunction at the plastics manufacturing company where she’d worked. She’d lost the use of her left hand, but gained two and a half million dollars.

  “Did you order the champagne?” Chaz clicked on another e-mail, his finger hovering over the DELETE button as he scanned its contents. “What the . . .” Chaz sat up and straightened an already perfectly aligned designer tie.

  Lois’s heart raced. Did the person who sent the nasty letter e-mail him, too? The ringing office phone interrupted her thoughts. She reached over and picked up the call from Chaz’s desk. “Covington Law Offices, this is Lois. How may I help you?” She paused. “One moment, please.” Lois put the call on hold. “It’s Jennifer.”

  At the mention of his ex-wife, a light frown scampered across Chaz’s face. He’d just seen her yesterday, when he dropped off their children. What does she want now? He nodded curtly at Lois, who gave him the phone.

  Soon, Chaz’s one-sided conversation was drowned out by Lois’s thoughts. It could be Jennifer who sent it. Everybody knows she’s still in love with him. Lois had never cared for Chaz’s ex-wife, and never bought the demure persona Jennifer tried to convey. She knew the truth: that at one time Jennifer Lawton Covington had been a “hostess” at a gentlemen’s club. That’s how she’d met Chaz. Lois believed that “ho” may have been a more accurate description, even though, being the church-going person that she was, she tried not to judge. Chaz’s second line began blinking, and Lois hurried to her desk to answer the call.

  “Elizabeth Stein for Chaz Covington,” Liz’s assistant chirped into the phone.

  “Hi, Melanie,” Lois answered, rolling her eyes. Elizabeth Owens Stein was the pampered and prideful daughter of Chicago real estate mogul Kenneth Owens. Stunningly beautiful, with bountiful blonde hair, turquoise blue eyes, and a model’s physique, she and Chaz had met at a charity event a year ago. She’d been trying to make herself a permanent fixture in his life ever since. “Mr. Covington is on the other line.”

  “Hold on a moment.” After Melanie relayed this information to her boss, Elizabeth came on the line.

  “Tell him it’s me,” Elizabeth said with authority.

  I’d rather not. “Hello, Mrs. Stein.” Lois almost choked on the respectful greeting. “Mr. Covington is on an important call at the moment. Is there some way I can help you, or a message I can relay?”

  “Look, you simpleton, the only thing you can do for me is get your boss on the phone. Now!”

  “If you can wait one moment, Mrs. . . .” The sound of a click in her ear told Lois that Elizabeth had hung up the phone. Lois rushed back into Chaz’s office, sure that his cell phone would ring within seconds. She was right.

  “Jen, I need to run.” Chaz ended the call on the office line and reached for his cell at the same time. He looked at the number, waited a beat, and then answered. “Hey, beautiful.”

  Lois almost flinched at hearing the endearment. That’s why you’re always knee-deep in women problems, Mr. Covington. You’re a big flirt! Chaz routinely addressed women as “beautiful,” “lovely,” “gorgeous,” and with other terms of endearment. From another man, these words might be considered chauvinistic, inappropriate for the workplace. But from Chaz, they were embraced as the highest form of flattery.

  “She spoke correctly, Liz. I am on a call, and have a conference call starting in ten minutes. Lois is just doing her job, trying to keep me on track.” Chaz winked at Lois, who quickly averted her eyes. “No, it’s busy all day, but I’ll call you back if I get a minute.

  “Another Monday, another round of madness,” Chaz continued when he got off the phone. “Look, finish going through my e-mails and let me know if there’s anything urgent. Oh, I probably should tell you that I just deleted a rather provocative one. It was probably an isolated incident, but I’m aware of your religious convictions and felt you should be forewarned. If you run across another one, just delete it.”

  “Some women have no shame,” Lois said softly. “I’ll promptly delete every single one of them.”

  “On second thought, you might want to save them in a folder. Like I said, it’s probably nothing, but on the other hand, this could be a potential stalker.”

  Lois’s eyes widened.

  “Just kidding, Lois. About the stalker, that is. But if these e-mails turn into a form of harassment, I’ll want to have kept track of the evidence.”

  Lois hesitated, wondering if she should tell Chaz about the letter she’d flushed. But like Mr. Covington said, it’s probably nothing; just some bored bimbo who’s seen him on TV.

  Chaz, who’d swiveled around to retrieve a case from his back table, was surprised when he turned back to the desk and saw Lois still standing there. “Is there something else, Lois?” he asked, remembering her fidgety demeanor when he’d first arrived at the office.

  “Uh, no, Mr. Covington.” Lois quickly left his office and headed for the bottle of aspirin at her desk. It was definitely going to be one of those days. Before she could retrieve it, the phone rang again. “For the love of God,” she murmured when she saw the number on the caller ID. She forced a smile to her voice as she answered.

  “It’s me again!” Melanie said laughing, accurately visualizing the scowl on Lois’s face.

  “What’s the witch want now?” Lois asked, in a whisper. Melanie’s mirth was contagious; Lois smiled for the first time that day. She’d never met Melanie McDougal, but they’d developed a phone friendship based on their mutual despising of Melanie’s boss, Liz Stein—or Elizabeth, as everyone who didn’t call her “Mrs. Stein” was instructed to address her. Everyone, that is, except Chaz.

  “Mrs. Stein would like to see if Mr. Covington is available for a dinner meeting, tonight if possible.” Melanie’s ultraprofessional delivery alerted Lois that Mrs. Stein was either standing directly in front of Melanie, or had come within earshot.

  “One moment, please,” Lois replied, matching Melanie’s professionalism. She clicked onto Chaz’s calendar. “His first available evening isn’t until Thursday.”

  After placing Lois on hold for a moment, Melanie replied, “Mrs. Stein would like to know if this evening’s appointment can be rescheduled. She would like Mr. Covington to meet a potential major donor for his foundation. He’s only in town for one day. She asks to be called back ASAP.”

  “Will do, Melanie.” Lois ended the call, moved Chaz’s appointment with his accountant to Thursday, and placed Elizabeth’s dinner meeting in its place. Next to defending those who’d been injured or wrongfully terminated, Chaz’s foundation was his passion. He’d founded From the Heart five years prior, after losing his mother to a heart disease that went undiagnosed for years. Lois knew that meeting with a potential donor would take precedence over Chaz’s monthly examination of the meticulous books maintained by his personal accountant. She knew that Elizabeth was also aware of the foundation’s importance in Chaz’s life. Which is why this shrewd, determined woman had played the heart card.
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br />   After returning from the break room with a bottle of water and downing four aspirin, Lois once again tried to concentrate on work. But all she could think of was the letter, and who could have written it. Almost every female she’d encountered today, either by phone or in person, could be the culprit. Initially, Lois had been convinced it was Gina. She worked in the office, was always flirting with Chaz, and made no secret to Lois that she wanted to sex her boss. But Chaz’s ex-wife, Jennifer, still believed she could win back the husband she’d lost after having an affair. Melanie had told Lois that Elizabeth Stein’s marriage was a sham. Maybe she was considering divorce, and eyeing one of Chicago’s most eligible divorcés as her next prospect. They’d make a gorgeous couple, Lois begrudgingly thought. Elizabeth could walk the runway at fashion week, and Chaz looked like a leading man. Maybe she wrote the letter. But why be anonymous? As Lois opened a file and began typing up the latest brief regarding a hit-and-run, questions about the letter-writer’s identity continued to swirl in her mind. But she was sure of one thing: protecting her boss and his reputation from she-wolves was part of her job. And when it came to doing her duty . . . Lois Edwards was on the case.

  3

  “Is that lipstick?” Reverend Beatrice Hallelujah Edwards, the world-renowned pastor of Save Your Soul Ministries, stared at her only child with hands on hips. “Lois Elaine Edwards, you know better.”

  “It’s not really a color, just gloss,” Lois replied. It was amazing how in the presence of her fifty-year-old mother, a thirty-one-year-old woman could feel more like five. But that’s the way it had always been: Beatrice spoke, Lois listened. Though her mother was strict, Lois knew she loved her. Their bond was a close one. Lois had been born out of wedlock, and following her birth, Beatrice had given up everything to focus on God and her daughter’s welfare. Everyone Lois knew respected her mother, even Chaz, who claimed he was “spiritual, not religious.” He’d voiced this position during their singular meeting. Lois later learned that Beatrice had not been impressed.

  Reverend Beatrice Edwards’s rules were followed without question. Lois agreed with these rules, for the most part. But for the past two days, since reading the anonymous letter sent to Chaz, Lois had begun looking at herself differently—viewing herself the way she imagined Chaz viewed her. While no one could fault her top-notch secretarial skills, Lois concluded that her feminine wiles were nonexistent. Since Monday morning, she’d watched Gina with a shrewd eye, hoping to glean a smidgeon of the sensuality she exuded by nature—not wanting to be sexy, you understand, but just enough to show Chaz, and remind herself, that she was a woman after all.

  “You not out there man-hunting, are you?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  Reverend Edwards’s narrowed eyes continued to scrutinize Lois. Aside from the lip gloss, she couldn’t fault her daughter’s appearance: shoulder-length hair pulled back in a neat bun; conservative black suit, the skirt of which hung two inches below the knee; and a floral-print shell that hugged her daughter’s neckline. Still, a woman of God had to watch and protect her flock, especially her daughter. The devil was always busy....

  Satisfied that her daughter had not been unfrocked, Reverend Edwards walked over and embraced Lois. “I’ll see you tonight at Bible study. You’re leading the praise and devotional, so spend some time with the Lord.”

  “I will, Mom. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Lois placed a Mary Mary CD into the car stereo as she navigated traffic on the Dan Ryan Freeway. If she kept her mind on Jesus, she reasoned, it was less likely to stray to other things. Like the letter. So far, it appeared her boss’s prediction was accurate, and that the e-mail he was aware of and the letter of which he had no clue were one-time sends from some chick with a crush. Lois breathed a sigh of relief and looked forward to an evening service filled with prayer and praise.

  Lois had arrived at her desk and begun sifting through the morning mail when her heartbeat stopped. Another one. The envelope looked the same: blank, white, addressed simply to Chaz Covington, Attorney-at-Law, in a bold Arial font. Lois’s first thought was to shred it, unopened. But then she remembered what Chaz had said two days prior: If these e-mails turn into a form of harassment, I’ll want to have kept track of the evidence.

  Lois placed the letter to the side, under a paper-laden accordion file folder. She forced herself to concentrate on the other mail and, after finishing this task, walked to the break room for a rare cup of coffee and a bagel. She wasn’t hungry, but was trying to postpone the inevitable—being tainted by the contents of the anonymous letter waiting at her desk, tainted by the nasty.

  By the time she returned to her work station fifteen minutes later, Lois had convinced herself to not open the letter at all. She’d simply place the letter in a file, as Chaz had instructed. This decision lasted for all of five minutes. With her most pressing duties completed and her boss away at court, Lois’s thoughts zoomed like a laser to the paper that seemed to burn a hole through her desk top. She reached for the envelope and her letter opener and, after looking around to make sure no one was nearby, unfolded the paper and read its contents.

  Dear Chaz,

  I thought that if I wrote my feelings down on paper and mailed them to you, it would be enough. It isn’t. In fact, seeing my desire in the form of the written word only increased my ardor. I WANT YOU NOW!

  If you were here, I’d strip naked. Then I’d remove your clothes. We’d take a long, leisurely bath, where I would get to know every inch of your perfect frame. After drying off, I’d allow my tongue to travel where my hands had been, from your toes to the top of your immaculately shorn head. I would suck, and lick, and explore some more. I imagine our kisses, hot and wet, as you plunge your massive manhood—

  “Good morning, Lois.” Chaz’s voice was rich and deep and, Lois determined, entirely too close.

  She gasped, hurriedly folded the paper, and turned around to face him. “M-Mr. Covington,” she stuttered, guilt written all over her face. “I didn’t hear you walk up.”

  “The carpet soaks up footsteps fairly well,” Chaz said, a smile scampering across his face as he stated the obvious. “Besides, you seemed quite engrossed in whatever you were reading.”

  “Oh, it was nothing.” Lois’s mouth closed up tighter than a sprung mousetrap.

  Chaz’s face remained neutral but inside his mind churned. What is going on with you, Lois? You’ve been skittish all week. His investigative instinct kicked into high gear. Chaz was determined to get to the bottom of his usually unflappable assistant’s rather flappable behavior.

  “Is this all of my mail?” he asked, picking up the neatly aligned stack in Lois’s outbox.

  Lois simply nodded, still not trusting herself to speak.

  “Great. I need to write a motion and wish not to be disturbed. Text me my schedule, and when I’m finished, I’ve several letters to dictate.”

  “Okay.”

  Lois waited until Chaz’s door closed. Then she hid the latest nasty note in her pocket and hurried to the employee restroom. By the time she opened the lavatory door, her hands were shaking and she was precariously near tears. She clumsily toyed with the lock on the stall, finally pushing it into place. She sat on the stool, took several deep breaths, and tried to calm down. So much for keeping my mind on Jesus. She knew she shouldn’t, but Lois couldn’t resist unfolding the paper and finishing the crude yet necessary task her boss had interrupted. It’s my job to know what’s going on, she told herself as she skimmed the part of the letter she’d already read. I will protect him from wenches like these who are up to no good! Lois took a deep breath and continued reading a letter that was almost twice as long as the first one that had been sent.

  . . . as you plunge your massive manhood into my heat. We’ll make love for hours, and when we’re done and you’ve rested, we’ll begin again. I want to sip you like a fine wine, until you are thoroughly satisfied. You’ll gladly return the favor, your tongue a sword as it l
aps my nether nectar.

  I am so hot for you, Chaz Covington. I don’t know if I can keep my identity a secret much longer. But how can I possibly reveal myself? Is it possible that you’ll be as attracted to me as I am to you? Maybe one day we’ll see. If dreams come true . . .

  Lois only became aware of the tears as one fell from her cheek and plopped onto the paper. She shook herself, as if from a dream, and quickly brushed them away. Why am I crying? But she knew why. It was because of the writer’s audacity to pen such crude messages to an honorable, respectable man. Lois placed the paper back into her pocket, and exited the stall. After dabbing her eyes with a moistened paper towel, she straightened her suit jacket and then her shoulders, determined to carry out her duties as executive legal assistant to Chaz Reginald Covington. He needs me now more than ever. Lois knew that she could not, and would not, let him down. And I will not let a piece of smut-filled paper get in my way!

  4

  “Mrs. Smith!” Lois was surprised to return to her desk and find Delicia sitting in the mini sitting area directly across from her workstation. She was even more surprised at Delicia’s markedly changed appearance. “What are you doing here?”

  “I know, I should have called first,” Delicia said, a slight hint of red creeping into her butterscotch complexion. “But I just wanted to drop off this thank-you gift to Mr. Covington. He was so kind to arrange that celebration on Monday, and I felt just horrible that I didn’t . . . thank him more properly.”

  “He’s asked not to be disturbed. I’ll be glad to take the gift on his behalf.”