“The 10:30 I can do from here. Have Wesley call me once he gets in contact with Mr. Millington.”
“What do you want me to do about Mr. Welsh’s meeting?” Camille asked.
“If you can get in touch with him, give him my apologies for the inconvenience, then let him know we have to reschedule.”
“Do you have a specific date in mind?”
“Whenever he chooses, I’ll have to accommodate. I will be in the office the remainder of the week.”
“Is that all sir?”
“Yes. Thank you, Camille. If I think of anything, I will call you.”
“Enjoy your day off, Mr. Harrison.”
“Don’t worry. I plan on doing just that.”
I thought about how dependent I had become on my new secretary. Camille had cheerfulness about her that most people might have complained aboutI welcomed it. Maybe there was something other than coffee in that mug that’s always within reach on her desk. To think, this twenty-five year old would have been wasting her time walking the floor of a bookstore, helping sometimes rude and unappreciative customers. It wasn’t that I felt sorry for Camille when I handed her my business card and asked her to fax a resume to the office. I was more impressed with the time she took in assisting me during one of my many visits to the bookstore.
I remember her staring at the card and then back at me. I was still dressed in business attire, which either made my gesture more accepting, or she had just decided to take a chance; after all, what had she to lose. Early the next morning when I reached the office, her resume and cover letter sat in a folder in the center of my deskprobably the only thing the previous secretary had done right since she was hired. Hiring Camille was one of the best professional decisions I had ever made.
“Denise, hey, this is Trevor. I was calling to see if you wanted to meet for lunch today.”
I wasn’t surprised when Denise didn’t answer my call. Her mornings at work were often inundated with managers meeting, supervisors meeting, or whatever meetings they felt she was needed to be a part of. After leaving my message, I clasped my hands behind my head, stared into the morning sky, and escaped in deep thought, which was later broken when my cell phone vibrated across the tabletop and fell into my lap. Startled, I responded without looking at the screen.
“This is Mr. Harrison.”
I glanced at my watch realizing I had only fifteen minutes to entertain whoever had decided to interrupt my silence.
“Sup man? I wasn’t expecting you to answer,” Kelvin stated with the still obvious sound of excitement in his booming voice.
“I almost didn’t. Oh, thanks for waking me up,” I said sarcastically.
I heard Kelvin’s voice and was suddenly revived. Kelvin had that effect on me.
“Don’t tell me you’re falling asleep on the job,” Kelvin joked.
“Of course, I’m not. I’m working from home today.”
“Why? Is everything ok?”
“Everything is just fine, Kelvin,” I responded. Does something have to be wrong for someone to take time away from the office? Better yet, why is he asking if everything is ok, when it should be clear to him that not everything is? I thought.
“You know you suck at pretending, right?”
There were times I felt Kelvin knew me too well.
“Pretending? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I got up from the table, walked inside the kitchen, and poured another glass of wine.
“Yes, pretending everything is fine,” Kelvin repeated for clarification.
“Nothing is wrong. I took today off so I can have some time to myself.”
I knew what Kelvin was fishing for, but I wasn’t in the mood to entertain him. Somehow, Kelvin suckered me into it.
“Trevor, I am always telling you to talk to me when something bothers you. For some odd reason, you still find it difficult to open up to me.”
“We can’t get into it right now, but there are some things I need to say.” I glanced at his watch and continued. “I have a 10:30 conference call with Wesley and a client.”
“Ok. Listen, I have a meeting today from three to five, then dinner with a few execs until seven, after that I am free. Can I call you around eight thirty?”
“Ok. I’ll be here.”
“Alright, I am heading to baggage claim. Enjoy your ‘me time’ until later.”
“Talk to you then. Hey, that’s Wesley on the other line. Enjoy your day, and I am glad you had a safe trip. Love you.”
I paused and waited for Kelvin to reciprocate.
“Love you, too.”
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
“Hey Wesley.”
“Good morning, Trevor. I got your message from Camille earlier.”
“Ok, great. Did you get in touch with Mr. Millington?”
“Yes. Actually, I did. You landed the account, man.”
“Are you kidding me?” I joked, my voice filled with excitement.
“No, I wouldn’t kid about something like that. He raved about the ideas you presented. Mr. Millington, who for whatever reason insists that we call him Curtis, decided a second meeting wasn’t necessary.”
“Man! That’s awesome.”
I brought the wine glass to my head. When I placed it on the countertop, it was empty.
“I informed him you were not in the office today, and that I would relay the message to you. Of course, he wanted to congratulate you personally.”
“So, I should expect a call?” I questioned.
“No. You’re having dinner with him and his wife on Wednesday at five. His secretary will call you with the details tomorrow. I hope you don’t have anything planned.”
My first thought was to share the news with Kelvin; however, if I waited until later, we would at least have something other than our separation to talk about. I thought about how much time I had devoted to the idea of working for the Millingtons.
“Are you there, man?” Wesley interrupted. “Listen. Congratulations! Don’t forget, we have to celebrate as well.”
“Thanks, Wes. I got you.”
“Cool. Enjoy your day off. See you tomorrow.”
When I ended the conversation with Wesley, my phone indicated a missed call from Denise. I was so lost in the excitement that I didn’t hear the phone beep.
You have one new message. First new message: Trevor this is Denise. Brandon is making reservations for us at Le Petit Poisson for one p.m. If I don’t hear from you by twelve thirty, I will assume that you did not get this message. Love you.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AS MUCH AS YOU ACCUSE ME OF CHEATING
Belinda
We had been planning our Caribbean escape for about six months, and as the day drew closer, we became overwhelmed with excitement. The Parrot Cay Resort in the Turks and Caicos Islands was stunning stunningly beautiful. The waters were sapphire-blue, the services were faultless, and bodies were tanned better than any that could have been bought at a day spa, or gotten on basking in the sun on a beach in south Miami. The men, too, were exotic, with equally perfect tans and gym bodies. I couldn’t buy, but there was nothing wrong with window shopping. There was definitely no harm in looking at these men who had no problem parading their stuff, and I took pleasure in doing just that.
We took advantage of our tripall expenses included. We partied all night, slept most of the day, and drank whenever we could. The weather had been perfect since we arrived. The one night of rain lasted less than twenty minutes. It came in the middle of the night, and the next morning, the sun came out like clockwork.
We were looking forward to our getaway, and none of us wanted it to end. When we got an unexpected phone call about Ingrid’s father’s hospitalization, we were saddened both by his sudden illness and the abrupt end to our fun-filled plans. Three days on the islands was such a tease.
Shayna, Julie, Ingrid, and I returned from our girlfriends’ retreat a few days earlier than our itinerary suggested. Ingr
id’s father was taken to the hospital to undergo triple bypass surgery. Since the girls and I were vacationing together, we decided to return together to show our support. We could have stayed, only it would have been difficult to enjoy our vacation days not knowing what awaited our return. Plus it wouldn’t be as fun withone of us missing.
Shayna and I enjoyed a quiet limousine ride from the airport. The house seemed quiet and deserted as the limousine pulled into the driveway.
Guess he’s out taking advantage of our time apart, I thought as Shayna and I walked towards the door. The driver followed behind with luggage in both hands. I opened the door and stood in the foyer.
“Honey, I’m home.”
I rested my purse on the small table next to the coat rack, picked up a stack of mail and leafed through them hastilynothing but bills.
“Shayna, have the driver leave the luggage here and give him this.”
I handed Shayna a $100 bill for a $25 limo ride and walked toward the stairs.
“DaMarcus, are you here?” I called out once more as I started up the steps.
There was no answer. When I reached about halfway, I heard a noise. It sounded almost like kids horse-playing when they knew they shouldn’t be.
“Honey, is that you?” I asked, trying to sound calm as not to alarm whoever was up there. Who else could it be? I thought.
“Belinda, what are you doing? Should I call the police?” Shayna asked with a hint of fright in her voice.
“That’s not necessary. The alarm was still set when we walked in.”
As I reached for the doorknob to the bedroom, the door swung open.
“Honey, you’re back early.”
DaMarcus stood in the bedroom doorway in boxers and a t-shirt, and a towel around his neck. He looked surprised.
“Didn’t you hear me calling for you? Why didn’t you answer?”
In my mind, I questioned the startled look on DaMarcus’ face.
“No, I didn’t. I… I was in the shower,” DaMarcus stuttered.
He looked at me, anticipating my next question, already searching for a response the idiot he thought I had become would believe.
“Lyn,” Shayna yelled from the bottom on the stairs. “Is everything ok?”
“Yes, Shayna. Everything’s fine.”
“Wait, your trip doesn’t end for couple more days,” DaMarcus said suspiciously.
“Yes, I know. Ingrid had a family….”
Before I could finish my response, I looked pastDaMarcus and at the figure standing in the bathroom door. I walked past him, removed my stilettos, and tossed them towards the closet. In the midst of my charge, I caught myself, stopped, and then turned to face DaMarcus.
“So, this is why I couldn’t reach you?” I asked with my hands akimbo, almost daring him to respond in the affirmative.
“I can explain,” DaMarcus offered.
“Oh… my… God!” The words fell from my mouth in pieces as I tried to gather my thoughts.
“Belinda,” the intruder shouted, standing with her hands across her chest, looking, if not feeling, ashamed.
“Taylor Duncan.”
I turned, tilted my head, and looked at DaMarcus with disgust and disappointment on my face.
“Lyn, I’m calling the cops.”
Shayna stood behind me with her cell phone in her hand, but the hand she would use to dial the number was busy picking her jaws up from the floor.
“What the hell is going on in here?” she shouted with a you-got-caught look on her face. She wasn’t certain who she was directing her question to.
“Won’t you try answering that one, DaMarcus?” I dared, scanning the room for something to hit him with.
“Yeah, DaMarcus answer that one,” Shayna repeated.
I gave Shayna that not-now look, and then directed my attention back to DaMarcus
“Belinda, it’s not what you think. I can explain,” Taylor offered.
This heifer is a damn mind reader, I thought.
“This should be good. You mean you can explain why you’re standing there, naked, in my bathroom, in my house, with my husband? Oh this is going to be a good one.” I said, and laughed to keep myself from crying, or doing anything irrational.
I grabbed at Taylor, but before I could reach her, I felt DaMarcus’ hands around my waist, keeping me from giving Taylor the death-hold I so desperately wanted to.
“9 – 1 – 1,” Shayna shouted each number, staring DaMarcus in his face.
“Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” DaMarcus asked rhetorically.
He knew Shayna wasn’t going anywhere.
“Honey, it’s not what it seems,” he continued.
Taylor and DaMarcus owed me an explanation, andShayna felt just as entitled. My heart sank,and I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t escape DaMarcus’ grip.
“Let me go,” I demanded.
When he released me, I felt the aftertaste of the airplane snack rising in my chest. The chocolate colored walls seemed to have caved in, and immediately, the room seemed smaller than it really was.
“You mean this is all in my head?” I asked, pointing at the half-naked woman who had begun searching frantically for the rest of her clothing. I shook my head in disbelief.
“That’s not what I’m saying.” DaMarcus’ desperation showed.
“Then what are you saying, DaMarcus?” I paused and waited for his response, which came too slowly. “I called you several times last night to tell you what had happened, only you were no where to be found. And if you’re wondering how I got here, and obviously you’re not, I took a taxi.”
I had to gather myself. I turned and headed back towards the bedroom door. The walk down the stairs to the living room seemed to take forever. With each step, I tried to map out my next move, but nothing I thought made sense. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. So many things were going through my head, but if I didn’t pull myself together, I was goingto do something I might end up regretting. I couldn’t make a rational decision with DaMarcus and Taylor in my presencethe thought of them wasn’t bad enough.
“Belinda. Belinda. Belinda,” Shayna was called, but I didn’t have the strength to answer.
Shayna stood in the living room with one arm on her hip and the other pointing towards the stairs. Before I could respond, Taylor appeared fully clothed.
“Who is that, Belinda?”
Shayna waited for me to respond. When I opened my mouth, all I could do was breathe.
“Who are you and what the hell are you doing here?” Shayna asked, standing face to face with Taylor.
“Belinda, it’s not what you think,” Taylor responded, purposely ignoring Shayna’s direct questioning.
“Why are you still here? Why are you even standing here still talking to me? You don’t honestly think I have anything to say to you. I trusted you and thought I understood your relationship with my husband. And despite what everyone said, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I even ignored my own thoughts. I dismissed them as far-fetched, warped, impossible, because I trusted my husband.”
I turned and looked at DaMarcus. That word hurt coming from my mouth.
“Get the hell out of my house.”
It took every fiber in my body to stop me from tearing Taylor to pieces. Taylor turned and looked at DaMarcus, who stood frozen at the bottom step, unable to rescue her from the wrath I was unleashing on her.
“What are you looking at him for?” I continued. “I asked you to leave.”
Each word I spoke was more wrapped in anger than the last.
“And if I have to ask you again, I promise you, it won’t sound as nice.” I turned my head towards the door.
As Taylor walked out the front door, DaMarcus closed it behind her and stood with his forehead pressed against it. He turned and walked with his hands clasped over his mouth. His face was covered in guilt.
“Can we please talk about this?” he pleaded.
“We don’t have anything to talk about,
DaMarcus.”
I tried to keep my breathing and my emotions in tack. I was losing control.
“You know what, you had better be gone before I get back.”
I grabbed my handbag and car keys and headed through the kitchen towards the garage. Shayna followed.
“Where are you going?” DaMarcus asked, and begged me to listen. I turned, my face covered with hurt. I felt betrayed.
“I’ll get the car.” Shayna reached for the keys and headed outside. “And just so you know…” she paused and looked at DaMarcus. “If it was me, I wouldn’t believe a word that came from your mouth,” Shayna added and continued outside the door.
DaMarcus wanted to respond, but he didn’t have time to waste.
“How does it go this time?” I asked. “Wait, let me guess. Nothing happened, Lyn. She meant nothing to me. Please forgive me. Tell me, did I at least get it half right?” Trying to maintain composure, I turned towards the front door, and then continued. “Do all guys rehearse those lines just in case you get caught?” I was furious.
“What do you mean ‘get caught’? I told you, nothing happened.”
DaMarcus’ voice was filled with frustration.
“Don’t even take that tone with me,” I screamed, pushing DaMarcus’ head with my finger. “You have nothing to be upset about. And while you’re at it, why don’t you tell me what really happened to the money in the savings account.”
“Here we go again.”
“That’s right. Here we go again. It’s always something with you. Please don’t let me find out you have been spending it on this heifer.”
“I told you what that money was used for. You obviously didn’t believe me.”
You’re obviously right, you damn liar, I thought. I looked out the window at Shayna who was waiting at the car.
“DaMarcus, I have to go. I have to get out of here.”
“Where are you going? I think we need to…….”
“Oh, now we’re thinking,” I interrupted. “DaMarcus, what do you want? You want me to forgive you?”
“I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’ve told you, I haven’t done anything.”
“Then I need to leave? What you’re saying and what I believe are two different things right now.” I screamed.
Less Than Perfect Circumstance Page 4