Chances Are, page 12
A daughter. So she’d been married, too. Wonder where he is, and what man in his right mind would leave her? Chances are, it was her job, he thought, no pun intended.
“What’s your daughter’s name?”
“Niyah.”
He smiled. “Pretty.”
“What about you? Besides being an electronics freak. Any kids?”
“No. None. Got an ex-wife, though.”
“Hmm.” She stole a glance at him and saw that his features had hardened. A tight line was drawn between his eyes. This was another touchy topic, she noted, which was just as well. Family wasn’t the easiest thing for her to talk about, either.
“How did you get involved with Chances Are?”
“Sounds like a question for the documentary,” she said stalling.
“Maybe, but I’d like to understand for myself.”
He made the turn onto the Brooklyn Queens Expressway.
They only have to know what you tell them, a voice whispered. “I did my social work thesis on teen pregnancy.” That much was true. “As part of my paper I toured several of the shelters and ‘homes’ for teen mothers. For the most part, it was depressing. There were no programs or services in place to make life better for them. They were just places for them to stay until they were transferred someplace else, or taken in by a family member.” She blew out a breath remembering those days. “I just felt if I could, I had to do something.
“As it happened one of my part-time jobs during college was working in a real estate office. I learned the business inside out, kept my eyes on the market. The building that became Chances Are was in foreclosure. I took it over after months of negotiations with the community boards and the block association. I had to convince them that the property values wouldn’t be lost,” she said, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Finally pulled it off. The rest—is what you see.”
“Wow. That’s some story.” He glanced briefly at her and suddenly saw her in an entirely different light. “So your degree is in social work?”
“Yes. And adolescent psychology. I just received my certification two months ago in social work,” she added. “Now I can go into private practice if I want. What about you?”
“Nothing quite as interesting as your alleged uninteresting story. Lived and went to school in Brooklyn. I spent about six years in Queens. That’s where I met my ex-wife—Gayle. Got married when I turned twenty-one. I was a free man by twenty-two. Bounced around from job to job, like I told you at the studio, until I went into production.”
“How did you get the studio?”
“Not quite as difficult as how you got yours. Saw an ad in the paper one day for a space to rent. Me and Jason had been doing a bunch of freelance stuff at the time, renting equipment and what not, so we pitched in, took a lease with the option to buy and the property became officially ours last year.”
Dione smiled. “That’s great.”
“It’s a struggle sometimes. I’m sure not as extreme as what you’re up against, but we have to keep our client base full and revolving. Part of our income is from the yearly grants that we receive to do public service announcements. It helps to defer the costs when we work with not-for-profit organizations like yours. The rest comes from corporations and private clients.”
“Diversification of income is so important,” she said.
“Definitely. But, if you’re a private agency and not funded by the city, how do the girls come to you? How do they know?”
She smiled. “Several ways, actually. Although we’re not a part of the city-funded network of shelters, we do work closely with social service agencies, high school guidance counselors and group homes. They make referrals to us. However, because we’re not mandated to take whoever is sent to us because we are privately funded, we can set our own criteria for admission and the rules under which they can stay.”
Slowly he nodded, taking in the information as he pulled the car to a stop.
Dione looked out of the window and the twinkling lights of the Verrazano Bridge, that separated New York from Staten Island, spanned majestically across the rippling water. In the distance, like silhouettes, the towering buildings of the New York City skyline were projected against the near cloudless night sky. Stars dotted the heavens and the moon hung at a precarious angle like an old drunk man trying to keep his balance.
It was beautiful to behold, and she wondered when if ever she’d seen such an exquisite view.
“How did you find this perfect spot?” She turned toward him.
“It found me. While I was driving, listening to you, I saw it in the distance. Always the cameraman.” He chuckled. “My eyes never stop looking for beautiful things to capture.” He looked at her. “And since we seem to be sharing some of ourselves, I wanted to share this with you.”
She didn’t know what to say, and the look in his eyes, the searching, questioning look only heightened the flutter that was out of control in her stomach.
He reached out, slowly. His hand, warm and surprisingly soft, touched her cheek. His gaze followed, connecting with hers, holding her perfectly still. “I want to kiss you, Dee.”
What do you say when a man tells you that?
She didn’t have to respond. Garrett took the decision out of her hands.
By degrees he leaned closer, unbuckling his seat belt, then hers. His eyes skipped like a stone on water across her face, his fingers threading through her hair, gently pulling her closer.
“If you say no, I’ll stop,” he uttered, a breath away from touching her mouth, so close that she could feel the tingle on her lips. “No news is good news,” he said deep in his throat.
His mouth touched down on hers, once, twice, testing, teasing like a bee flitting from one flower to the next.
And then he was all there, fused with her, gently coaxing her into accepting what he had to offer.
Tentatively the tips of their tongues met like two pinpoints of light shooting electric sparks through their veins.
Her sigh enticed him, encouraged him. He drew closer, delved deeper and she gave of herself in return.
Those few precious moments of awakening, discovering each other brought them to a place where they had both feared to go. The place where decisions about themselves and where they wanted what was happening between them to go.
Garrett eased back. Slowly withdrew.
“I could get used to that,” he said, his voice thick.
Dione lowered her gaze and bit back a smile.
He brushed the pad of his thumb across her lips. “You okay?” he gently asked.
She nodded. “I’d better get home, though.”
He looked at her, trying to gauge her emotions, but she seemed to have shut down like the final curtain of a stage play.
A wave of apprehension swept through him and stayed with him like an unwelcome guest through the entire drive back to her apartment, intermittently given a reprieve with stilted comments about the city’s landmarks and the weather.
He pulled to a stop in front of her building and double-parked next to a black minivan. Immediately he turned to her, almost sure that she was ready to bolt.
“Dee, I really had a great time this evening.”
“So did I.”
She smiled and the tightness in his stomach began to ease.
“I’d like to see you again—on another date.” He smiled, hopeful, his dimple deepening.
“Garrett—I really had a nice time, and—but I don’t think we should take this any further. It would just complicate things.”
He felt like a fool. “Hey, no problem. You’re probably right—mixing business—” He stared straight ahead.
“Well, good night. And thanks again.”
“Sure.”
She unbuckled her belt and got out.
Garrett waited until he heard the door to her building open and close, then he pulled off.
Now he remembered why he didn’t put himself on the line. Dione Williams gave him a quick refresher course.
Chapter 14
“Garrett Lawrence called a few minutes ago,” Brenda said as Dione walked into the office to hang up her coat.
She felt her heart begin to race. “Oh. What did he say?” She took a hanger from the closet.
“He said the film crew would be here tomorrow morning to start shooting the documentary.”
The racing intensified. She hadn’t spoken to him since that night nearly a week ago. She’d wanted to call, but better judgment had overruled her feelings. She could care about Gary, really care about him and she was afraid of what caring would do to her.
“Fine. I was wondering when they were going to get started. With Thanksgiving in three weeks I didn’t want the filming to disrupt the plans for the house.”
“Dee—”
“Hmm.” She picked up the stack of mail from the in-box.
“Are you all right? You haven’t seemed yourself lately.”
Dione forced a smile. “I’m fine. Nothing more than the usual.”
“Hear anything from Terri about the PSA?”
“She’s been working out a campaign. I hope to talk with her later today. I’m sure whatever she does will be fine.”
Brenda looked at Dione’s profile. Dione had yet to look her in the eye.
“Is everything okay with Niyah?”
“Yes. Fine. She’ll be home for Thanksgiving.” She sifted through the mail that she needed to review. “I’ll be downstairs.” She turned and left without another word.
“Something’s up,” Brenda mumbled to herself and she had a strong feeling it had to do with Garrett Lawrence and her feelings were rarely off.
Tomorrow. She sat down heavily in her chair, biting on the tip of her index finger. What would she say? How would he treat her now that she’d told him it was strictly business?
Had the kiss they shared haunted him as it had done to her? Every time she closed her eyes she could feel his warm mouth against hers. She’d memorized his scent, the rhythm of his stride, the low throb of his voice.
Since that night she’d battled with her emotions, trying to convince herself that what she was feeling was purely physical. No real depth. But then she’d remember the laughter and the flashes of their pasts that they shared. She’d see the dark emptiness of his eyes that longed to be filled.
But she couldn’t allow herself to fall for a man who thought so little of the girls and the cause she loved. If he felt and believed that way about them, what would he think of her if he knew the truth—the whole story?
And how could she even think of being with a man, building a relationship if it couldn’t be built on honesty and trust. She knew from dealing with people every day what it was like when they carried secrets. It was in the eyes. She’d seen it in Garrett’s eyes. There was a dark side of his life that he couldn’t share, that had jaded him, just as her past had impacted her.
She knew that was just part of what drew them together, but it was the other part, the spiraling emotions that she couldn’t handle.
She covered her face with her hands, wishing that when she removed them, the confusion would be gone and all the answers would be standing right in front of her.
“Dione.”
Dione snatched her hands away from her face and blinked to clear her vision. She tried to smile. “Hi, Betsy. What can I do for you?”
Betsy stepped in, closed the door and walked over to Dione’s desk. She stared down into her face.
“What’s wrong, Dione? You’ve been a ghost around here for days. And don’t tell me it’s nothing, and don’t worry. I’m not one of them girls,” she warned.
It’s nothing was right there waiting to make its pat statement. But Dione knew not to even try it with Betsy.
Dione blew out a long breath. “I don’t even know where to begin, Betsy.”
“How ’bout starting with how you’re feeling right now and work your way back.”
She pulled out a chair, sat down and waited. Dione knew from the determined look in Betsy’s eyes that she wasn’t moving until she was satisfied.
“Miserable. Confused. Lonely. How’s that for starters?” she said, her voice beginning to wobble.
“Caused by something or someone?”
“Both.”
“Talking to you is still just like pulling teeth—a painful process. Ain’t changed none in years. Keep too much on you and to yourself, Dione. That’s what friends and family are for, to share your load. You’ll be surprised to find it won’t be so heavy. It’s that man, ain’t it? Must be because I ain’t never seen you this down over some bills or lack of money or food. Just made you more determined. So—it’s that film fella?”
“Still sharp as an ice pick, Betsy.”
“So, I’m right.”
Dione nodded.
“I’m gonna say these one or two things, then I’m gonna leave it alone. You got to give yourself a chance, Dione. I know all the weight and the guilt you carry around. You try to make it right every time you open these doors to a new girl.
“But you can’t make it up. What is—just is. You never gonna get your daddy’s love the way you wanted it, no matter how many girls and babies you love. You gotta love you first, then all that other stuff won’t matter.
“They hurt you. Made you think you wasn’t worth caring about. But you are. Give yourself a chance to be cared about.”
“I—want to,” she choked, her throat closing up. “I want to try.”
Betsy stood. “Then just do it, like you done everything else you’ve ever wanted to do.” Betsy turned to leave. “Got to get back to those children. Brenda can’t stay with them but a minute before she starts getting panicky.” She chuckled. “You come talk to me if you want. You know I’m always there for you.”
Dione pressed her lips together. “I know,” she whispered as Betsy walked out. “Funny thing is, I’ve been doing for others for so long, I’m not sure I know how to just do for myself.”
Garrett had been as short-tempered as a lit fuse about ready to blow. All the guys in the office steered clear of him, thinking just the sight of them would cause Garrett to go off on them for some infraction or the other.
He barely spoke, kept himself shut away in the edit room and even Marva thought twice about getting on his nerves.
He was miserable. He knew he was being a real jerk to his staff, but he couldn’t help it and wasn’t sure if he even cared. But more than being angry, he was hurt. And he shouldn’t have been. It wasn’t as if he’d been deep into the relationship only to find out that the other party wasn’t interested.
But his feelings for Dione had escalated at a frightening rate like a storm that was brewing, gaining strength and what everyone thought would be simple thunder and lightning turned into a tornado. He couldn’t explain it.
He adjusted the dials on the edit board and the picture on the monitor above spun in reverse until he got the tape where he wanted it.
A knock on the closed door received a grunt of acknowledgment. He didn’t even turn around.
“Gary, man, we need to talk.” Jason closed the door behind him.
“Yeah, about what?”
“About your problem. You got everybody around here changing their underwear every time you step into a room.” Jason grabbed a stool and straddled it. “I’m waiting. You’re gonna have to tell me something.”
“Just leave it alone, Jas.”
“Not when it begins to affect this business. This is my business, too. Remember?”
Garrett shut his eyes for a moment and let the air rush from his lungs. “It’s—man,” he sputtered.
“Dione Williams,” Jason said.
“Yeah.”
Jason was quiet for a moment trying to find the right words. “Things didn’t work out I take it.”
“You take it right. Thing is, I’m not sure why. I thought we were moving in the same direction.”
“Maybe she’s running scared, G.”
“Dione?” He shook his head in denial. “Can’t see anything rattling her. She’s solid as a rock.”
“That’s what you see.”
Garrett angled his head, looking at Jason from the corner of his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Some things aren’t obvious, G. People put on all kinds of fronts to protect themselves. You don’t know what she’s had to deal with.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t be responsible for all the brothers who came before me, either.”
Jason slowly stood. “But that’s what more than half the women you’ve run through have said about you.” He pushed the stool back under the table. “Whatever you do, get a lock on your feelings. We still have a job to do and you two are going to have to work together for the next two months. Later.”
Garrett watched him walk out. He should have just left well enough alone and never tried to take it beyond what it was. Just business.
“They’re here,” Brenda announced into Dione’s intercom.
Dione felt hot all over and those crazy butterflies were going berserk in her stomach. How was she going to deal with this? The last time she saw him, they’d shared a heart-stopping kiss and opened doors that she’d quickly shut.
She stood, straightened her pearl gray Donna Karan suit and went upstairs. What they were about to get involved in was important. It went beyond her and Garrett’s personal feelings. And she couldn’t let her own wants overshadow that.
When she came up to the first floor, Garrett was coming through the front door, loaded down with equipment, followed by Jason and Najashi.
Their gazes connected and both of them seemed to become captured in frozen relief. Garrett was the first to look away.
“As soon as we get this equipment set up, we can get started.”
His tone and expression were as distant as a foreign country. Dione’s insides constricted, as she forced a smile.
“Is there anything you need help with?”
“No. But if I do, I’ll let Brenda know.” He looked away and continued carrying the equipment into the room used for the residents’ visitors.
