by Katie Dowe
As Johnny walked down his tummy and created flames of anguish Brett lamented that money couldn’t buy happiness. The hot drink was vile, but the right kind of poison for nights of depression. Today he regretted it. His first appointment was set for eleven am, and as he glanced at his expensive wrist watch, he was grateful that he had an hour and fifteen minutes to settle his stomach and appear to be the demanding business leader everyone expected him to be. Brett was quickly growing tired of his role.
Loosening his tie, and removing his shoes, Brett glanced around the plush office admiring what money could buy and considering what it didn’t. The drapes by the ceiling to floor windows were made from a material the designer assured him was worth the money, and the carpet was bought at an auction. The former owner and its origins were from half way around the world they said, and the accompanying desk was made from the rarest of woods. Still, Brett was not happy.
Lying back on the couch positioned by a sunny window, he closed his eyes and willed himself to relax. At approximately five minutes to ten Joan ran his phone, ignoring his orders not to disturb him. Brett pretended he didn’t hear the annoying buzz and squeezed his eyes shut. In seconds, she was knocking on the door.
Joan’s hair was either silver gray or platinum blonde - Brett was yet to decide which one, and as she poked her head around the door, she yelled his name. At sixty plus years, she still dressed like a younger woman, but her temperament was that of a miserable old hag. It was a good thing she was left in the will. Guaranteed a job and healthy separation package, Joan knew she couldn’t be fired and took too many liberties. Her tone suggested she believed she was part owner of the place, and her presence, equally as commanding.
“Brett you need to wake up now!” She barked. “There has been a change of plans. William called to say he wouldn’t be in today and he has an appointment already waiting in the lobby. The lady needs to be seen.”
Breathing hot air through his nostrils in frustration, Brett dragged himself to an upright position. “Joan I know you are getting on in age, but I’m pretty sure I said I didn’t want to be disturbed. What about that didn’t you not understand?”
Joan tilted her nose in the air and stepped inside revealing her entire shocking red skirt suit and black pumps fit for a hooker. “I know you don’t like me Brett, but you will give me my due respect. Your father is probably turning in his grave at how you run this company.” She made a hurried sign of the cross on her chest before announcing, “You have exactly five minutes before I send the young lady in. Here is the file William left behind. Get familiar… fast!”
Tossing the file on the oriental styled coffee table, she issued him a smug smirk. Joan lavished in her expert abilities of creating havoc where ever she went. It had been three years since she has been banned from the maid quarters for her constant tirades about minor and sometimes imaginary issues. Still she believed herself to be the queen of Haughton and Company.
Clicking her heels, she tick tocked out of the room, closing the door quietly. Brett hated her. Rubbing his temples, Brett looked at the offensive folder before thumbing through it. As usual William had made a decision without him. He had invited this young woman here to discuss a possible linkage between her company and the young woman who won the scholarship.
She made jewelry it seemed, and William was confident enough to offer her a comprehensive package including marketing, outsourcing of materials and a small workforce. In exchange she was going to have to sign over exclusivity of her brand to them for the life of their contract. The sum being promised for this partnership was certainly going to be more than what she was making now. Brett couldn’t argue. It was a good deal.
But who this young woman? Brett had no clue what the work looked like that would encourage a usually Scrooge-like William to be so generous. Standing to his feet, Brett fixed his tie and replaced his jacket on his shoulders. He would soon find out.
*****
It honestly felt like it took an extra three hours for it to be morning in Natalie’s neighborhood. Excitement and nervousness made for uncomfortable bed fellows and finally they won the battle for her sleep. Up and pacing, Natalie imagined all that could go wrong or right tomorrow. Suppose William wasn’t as in command as he indicated? Suppose he wasn’t the one calling the shots, suppose he called to change his mind? Suppose…
Quite a few of the interested buyers called her on Sunday morning. In her world, Sunday was no day for business, but to them every day was one to make money. So far Natalie had an appointment for every day this week with these interested vultures. She was a hotter commodity than she first thought.
Sleep found her around four in the morning, but it lost her again by five thirty. By eight am she was dressed and ready for her ten am meeting only a fifteen minutes drive away. Sipping coffee as slowly as possible while watching the traffic coming in and out of the building that held her fate, Natalie whispered a quiet prayer. The journey had been long, but it brought her to this place. A place where she stood on the cusp of all her dreams and desires, a place of promise.
Depositing her cup in the wire trash basket, Natalie crossed the street and disappeared through the revolving doors. Once inside she read the floor plan, searching for Haughton and Company. They occupied the top level of the tall building and before long Natalie was riding the elevator to their suite.
The place dripped with the trappings of the rich who over indulged and used their material wealth as symbols of power and status. The lobby in which she arrived was either recently refurbished or very well maintained. Mirrors of multiple shapes and sizes followed her strides to the desk where a young woman in a designer suit sat. The reflection of herself that she had just passed, reminded Natalie that she too looked the part.
The dress she wore today was festive. The bold fabric with a subtle but expressive abstract print, cut into a knee length dress with a small slit at the back. It dared any onlooker to wonder what treasures lay just beyond their sight. The short sleeves of the dress cuffed her upper arm with a small keyhole and button, while the neckline, decent, would entice any man to peek a bit further. The dress wasn’t tight, but it surely hugged her in all the right places and the pattern of the fabric drew emphasis to her curvaceous figure. Black heels, purse and portfolio were in tow and as Natalie glanced at the shiny moniker behind the smiling receptionist, she hoped her twist out hairstyle was appropriate.
“Good morning,” Natalie said, “I have a ten o clock appointment with Mr. Will Haughton, My name is Natalie Johnson.” Nodding in confirmation, the woman behind the desk directed her to the end of the hall where she would find another elevator. It would take her up another level to the Manager’s Suites, she said. The receptionist was right, and in a matter of minutes she walked up to a sour faced Joan. “Good morning, I have a ten am appointment with Mr. Will Haughton.”
Joan forced a smile and the unnatural way it stretched her face suggested she wasn’t accustomed to exercising her facial muscles. “Certainly,” she responded while gesturing to the plush sofa against the wall. “Kindly have a seat while I let him know you are here.” Rising to her full height with the aid of hooker heels, Joan and her modern tight skirt suit disappeared down a lonely corridor to find her boss.
In a matter of minutes, Joan reemerged with an apology and news. “Ms Johnson, regrettably, Mr. Will Haughton won’t be in today. He has asked his partner to meet with you. Is that alright with you?”
Natalie paused. She didn’t know this new person and she feared the traction of a great first impression she made on Will would be lost and the meeting would turn into, ‘just another interview’. Suddenly the old receptionist smiled and said, ‘Trust me, you dodged a bullet, the partner you will meet is much nicer.”
Brett may have died if he heard the old woman issue this compliment. Considering the light hearted nature of Joan’s smile, Natalie agreed. At least someone was in her corner. At exactly ten am, Joan directed Natalie to the corner office down the hall. Oddly, it wa
s named office number one, even though it was the last one on the hallway.
Natalie knocked gently and a gruff voice said, “Come in.”
Pushing the door, Natalie wondered if the streak at the front of her hair may seem a bit outlandish to this man she had never met. Why did she worry so much? The man she was supposed to be meeting stood by a well stocked miniature bar, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Turning around as she entered, he smiled and then froze. Natalie did likewise. After the sparks of recognition fired in their minds, the pair erupted in uncomfortable laughter. “Well, well, well,” Brett said in a tone that betrayed just how happy he was to see her, “You didn’t call me but we definitely called you!” More laughter erupted and the pair came to terms with the unusual meeting.
Stepping forward, he shook her hand and lingered. “Brett Haughton, CEO and owner of Haughton and Company. No need to introduce yourself Ms. Johnson, I remember your name.” Inviting her to have a seat, Brett walked around his grand desk, no longer interested in the coffee he had poured. His attention was now solely focused on the elusive Ms. Johnson. Assuming a professional voice as he opened the folder with her details, Brett said, “The gentleman you were supposed to meet is my cousin, he’s not here today, so it’s your luck, and mine that I will be meeting with you.”
“That’s fine by me,” Natalie said, matching the professional tone before Brett continued. “Well, first let me say that my cousin has prepared a very nice package regarding linking your designs to the flagship store for a young lady we have invested in. That happens to be where I was going the day we met.” Switching perspectives quickly, he added, “Why did you never call me?”
His face was devoid of all humor and replacing it was the unmistakable shroud of attraction. His eyes never left hers and he silently communicated that he was more than interested in what she had to offer… professionally of course.
Natalie responded, “I don’t like playing with fire Mr. Haughton and by the looks of our hair, we’ve been burned enough.” The shot at their similar hairstyles was humorous and a bit embarrassing for Brett. Maybe he was coming on too strong. The women he usually dealt with would have merely giggled like schoolgirls. Natalie’s wit was a turn on.
Finding his words, Brett said, “Well, yes I suppose so,” with a wide grin. Switching back to business, he said, “What we want to do is incorporate your designs with her clothing line. It’s eclectic and exclusive and your creations fit right in with that. We are offering you and the young woman, full financial backing, marketing exposure, branding and any other thing you fashion people usually need to become a success. We at Haughton may not be fashion sensible, but we do know numbers and when you win, we win. After the first year we will have a meeting and decide how the company stock will be handled… either we will keep backing you or if you have the financial strength the shares will become yours again.”
Leaning back in her chair Natalie thought about all the other offers she had been given. Even from their initial conversations, she could tell their offers wouldn’t be as beneficial. She had a good feeling about this deal and the fact that the man offering it to her was handsome and very alluring didn’t faze her a bit. Maybe this was time for a new era in her life. As Natalie signed on the dotted line of the contract she felt no nerves, no trepidation, and no hesitation. Yes, this was definitely a new era in her life.
Chapter 5
The phone call came as soon as Natalie entered the door. The airport hours could be so grueling at times. Dropping the bags she carried at the door, she made a dash for the cordless on her wooden kitchen counter. “This is Natalie.” She said breathlessly before the enthusiastic voice said, “Hello Natalie, I hope I’m calling at a good time, this is Brett.”
Regaining her composure and straightening herself as though she could be seen through the phone. “Sure Mr. Haughton, this is a good time,” she lied. Brett had a proposition. “We are having a company celebration for the launch of the new company. While it’s not a grand opening, there is a reason to celebrate. It’s this Friday night and as a partner in the store, you are invited. You will also get to meet your new business partner and the other associates at Haughton. Can you attend?”
“Certainly Mr. Haughton, I would be pleased to attend.”
“Perfect Natalie, I will send by a messenger tomorrow with the official invitation. I… Look forward to seeing you and please stop calling me Mr. Haughton… my name is Brett.”
If her cinnamon skin could blush, she would be red as a beet. The last sentence was soft and warm. This man was drawing her in. “Thank you Brett.” Natalie added in her most feminine tone. And with that the attracted pair hung up the phone.
Natalie felt flushed. There was something in Brett’s tone that tingled Natalie’s senses and rushed heat to intimate places. She found herself wondering what it would be like to be with him. She had never shared a bed with a white man and after her ex husband, she wasn’t certain if any man could be trusted with the treasure between her legs. More importantly, her heart. Unfortunately, physical reactions were not always easily willed away. Natalie decided to take a shower.
*****
Brett was frustrated with himself. Every time he spoke with Natalie he felt like a smitten boy fumbling for words. This last conversation was no different. Of course he was usually more eloquent and assured, but there was just something about her. As he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, he took a sip of his Johnny Walker Black and felt the heat flow straight to his lower regions. In his mind’s eye he saw the way she swayed her hips and the gentle absence in her eyes. The perfect curve of her full lips when she spoke captivated him and more than once he caught himself staring.
Her fingers were delicate and when she closed them around the pen to sign her contract, he imagined them closing around his manhood. He grew stiff at the thought. Her hair was something of interest to him. The texture reminded him of clouds, soft and free moving while the streak at the front made her seem exotic. Brett wanted her.
As the thought entered his mind, he wondered if she had been with a white man before. He also wondered if she would give him the opportunity to get closer to her. Shaking his head, Brett reminded himself that she was a business associate and that things could easily get complicated. His mother would hold a bone of contention in this one. The woman was extremely old fashioned in her thinking, often referring to anyone with a darker skin tone than her as an immigrant. More than once he had been witness to her tirades and rants about the kaleidoscope of people making America their home. Mother dearest was as white as they came.
Brett was getting ahead of himself as usual. He wasn’t even sure Natalie understood his interest in her. He would have to make his intentions more clear. Maybe tomorrow the messenger could also deliver a small token of friendship to her along with the invitation. It was a solid plan. Brett liked plans. They helped him organize his life and he measured his success upon reaching each benchmark. He was behind in the romance area.
*****
When the ornate alarm clock made its presence known next to his head, Brett sat up, startled. Through his sleepy fog, he heard movement outside the door and knew that the maids had started their daily duties. His head pounded from his alcohol over indulgence. No sooner did his feet hit the floor did his cell ring. It sat on the tall boy chest on the other side of the grand room, but there was no more walk left in Brett. Thankfully, it stopped ringing and he subsequently flopped back onto the bed.
The nagging ring tone started again and this time he found the strength to spring from the bed and stalk over to where it laid vibrating and wailing for attention. “Brett Haughton!” He snapped.
A smooth intellectual voice answered with a southern drawl. “Coggins here,” he responded unfazed by the abrasive greeting “As you know we have a matter to deal with. Your birthday has recently passed and you need to complete the final condition your father set out. Times a ticking and a baby needs nine months to bake in the oven. What have you been doing to… m
ove things along?”
“Coggins,” Brett said, exasperated. “Why the hell would you call me at this time of the morning to ask me if I’m screwing or not?”
“It’s midday Brett. You need to lay off the Johnny. Besides, Saturdays are a great day to start things. The rich socialites will hit the parties ready and waiting for a man like you. Time to start using that cock if you wanna run the company son. Get on it… well… her.”
The man was insufferable, but as his father’s attorney and now his, he was within his right to remind him of the pending matters. Because he was like a father to him, Coggins could cross the line over to rudeness - it seemed his sex life and business life were one and the same anyway.
The intrusive attorney hung up the phone and Brett wondered how he slept past midday. Johnny had walked over him yet again. He heard yelling. The shrill demanding voice of his mother pierced the air. Rubbing his temples he considered where the best hiding place would be. It probably wouldn’t make any sense anyway. She would find him. Before the thought left his head, the gigantic wooden door separating him from the woman who birthed him waltzed in. She never knocked and always expected him to be happy to see her. That was seldom the case.
“Brett… it’s after midday and only the linens in the bedrooms have been washed. Don’t you ever oversee your staff? These damn immigrants can’t get anything right. The last one you hired gives me attitude and you need to do something about it. I won’t take snobbery from the likes of her.”
“Mother, why are you here? I’ve told you before, this isn’t your house and you are not entitled to pop in at your heart’s desire.”