Chances Are, page 8
While Garrett kept her in his eyesight, he began to get the distinct impression that Dione wasn’t so much in a hurry to get where they were going, but to take a little wind out of his sail. He may have been in control at the studio, but she was making her statement on the road. It was a good thing he knew where he was going.
By the time they arrived in front of the Sugar Bar, Dione felt exhilarated, even though there wasn’t anywhere to park.
Garrett pulled up alongside her car and rolled down his window. Dione lowered hers and leaned toward the passenger door.
“There’s a garage on the next block.”
“Lead the way,” she said with a grin, and Garrett wondered if she was trying to be funny. He pulled out and headed for the garage.
It had been a while since she’d been at Nick Ashford’s and Valerie Simpson’s restaurant, but it was just as cozy as the last time she’d visited.
The walls were adorned with African masks, and straw accessories that gave the impression of mounted huts on the cream-colored walls, and though the space was small, there was just enough room between the white linen-topped tables to allow for privacy.
But she couldn’t have been more thrilled than to see Valerie Simpson sitting at the bar with her husband, Nick, both in conversation with a customer.
“Hi, Val. Long time,” Dione greeted when Valerie turned in her direction. They gave each other a long-time-no-see hug and Nick kissed her cheek. Dione made the introductions and Nick insisted that drinks were on the house for old times’ sake.
Garrett worked real hard to be cool and not have his mouth hang open after having been introduced to two of the music industry’s superstars. But what really had him stunned was the very idea that Dione knew them—apparently very well.
They were seated at a cozy table in the corner, the only thing separating them were their knees, which almost touched, and the white candle that flicked in the glass bowl.
Garrett pretended to look at his menu, but he couldn’t concentrate on what was in front of him. He peeked at Dione over the top of the menu and she looked as cool and in control as she always did, as if hanging with celebrities was an everyday occurrence.
There was no way he could hold his curiosity in check a minute longer. He put the menu down.
“How do you know them?”
“Who?” she asked, coyly.
He twisted his mouth. “You have a strange sense of humor, Ms. Williams. First it’s the chase through Manhattan, then gripping and grinning with celebrities.”
Dione giggled. “You didn’t enjoy the ride?”
“Very funny.” He looked at her seeing yet a new side of Dione, the playful, teasing side. He liked it.
Leaning forward, he braced his arms on the table. “Fine. Don’t tell me. It can be your little secret. But,” he shook his finger at her, “one of these days there’s going to be something you’re going to want me to tell you.” He picked up his water glass and took a sip.
Dione bit back a smile. “What might you know that I’d want to find out, Mr. Lawrence—one of these days?”
“That remains to be seen. But I can guarantee it will be something.”
She liked the way his eyes had suddenly darkened and his lowered voice reached down into her insides and gently stroked them.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She picked her menu back up as the waiter approached. She ordered the spiced African shrimp and Garrett ordered the grilled salmon.
“So—what made you get into the video business?” Dione asked while they waited.
He gave a slight shrug. He couldn’t very well tell her that it was his way of escape from the realities of his life. His one way of creating things the way he wanted them to be. That when he was behind the camera or closeted in the editing suite it was when he felt in control. She didn’t need to know that.
“I guess I have a creative streak. I like what I can do with what I imagine. After bouncing from one corporate job to another, I got involved when a small video company came to one of my former places of employment to film a training video. I got to talking with some member of the crew and the rest is G.L. Productions.” At least that part was true.
Dione watched him as he talked, the way his eyes didn’t quite meet hers, the subtle but telltale lack of conviction in his voice. She’d listened to enough tales from the girls who crossed her doorstep. The way they were able to intricately weave a story to hide their hurt, their shame, their fears. They had that same look in their eyes as Garrett had now. And she was a classic case with her own version of her own reality.
What was it that Garrett hid behind the camera lens and the dimly lit room?
“What about you? I just don’t see you—managing a shelter.”
She felt her heart pinch and her stomach flutter. The positive feelings she’d begun to build about Garrett began to fizzle out like a soda gone flat.
“Who do you see managing a shelter?”
He’d done it again. He hadn’t meant to, but it just slipped out. But it was the truth. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“What did you mean? No. Don’t answer that. Why don’t we start from the core of what’s bothering you?”
“And that is?”
“Your animosity toward teen mothers for starters.”
His thoughts spun backward to the group homes, the foster families, the loneliness and feelings of not belonging, not being good enough to be cared about, all because of a girl who thought she was a woman and found out too late that she wasn’t—at his expense.
He looked down at his hands, his fingers splayed on the tabletop. “It’s just that what they’ve done to themselves, to their children is totally irresponsible and—” He shook his head. “The children suffer as a result. Families suffer and society is made to carry the burden with welfare.”
“People make mistakes, and deserve every opportunity to correct them,” she said her voice taking on a faraway note. “There was a time when young girls in trouble had nowhere to go. They found themselves shut off from their families, with nothing ahead of them but poverty and a long, dismal future. Many weren’t up to the challenge.”
His mother.
“Chances Are isn’t about making life easy. It’s about giving those girls and their children a chance to be contributors to society, not a burden.”
If he didn’t know better he’d think she was talking about herself. But that was crazy. Dione? Impossible.
“Maybe in the long run, but in the meantime doesn’t providing all the creature comforts give other girls the idea that ‘making a mistake’ is all right?”
She took a sip of her water. “How many stories have you heard about young girls leaving their babies in alleys, in bathrooms, in garbage cans?”
A spot in his stomach started to burn, ignited by the memories of his own beginnings.
“Those are just a portion of them who felt so frightened and hopeless, that was their only choice. My goal is to keep that from happening to as many young girls as possible. And yes, in the meantime there will be those who think they’re getting a free ride. But I’d rather that than read about them in the paper. Kids are being tried and put away for murder because they were either afraid to go to their parents for help, or felt they had no choices. Their lives were over because that’s what we’re told by society—a young girl has a baby and her life is over. Fear is a very powerful emotion.”
Their food arrived and Dione focused all of her attention on the giant shrimp on her plate. She knew this was a mistake. She should have followed her first thought and canceled. She stabbed a shrimp with her fork. How could anyone, seemingly without effort, awaken emotions in her that she’d kept at bay, and in the next breath prove himself to be the king of bigotry, a narrow-minded fool that set her teeth on edge? She stabbed another shrimp.
She wishes that was me on that plate, he thought, cringing inside each time she attacked a shrimp.
What she’d said hit him where he lived. Maybe she was right. A part of him knew she was, but he wasn’t quite ready to let go of his anger. He’d held on to it too long.
He put a slice of salmon in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Would his life have been different if his mother had had somewhere to turn all those years ago?
“What you do,” he began with hesitation, “it’s hard for me to accept.”
Her gaze slowly rose and rested on his face. The bravado was gone. The challenge in his eyes and in his voice was gone. Replaced by what appeared to be regret. But not so much regret for what he’d said, regret for something much deeper.
Instinctively she reached out and clasped his fisted left hand. “We all have our demons to battle, Mr. Lawrence. In our own way. I’ve come to accept that in people. All I can do, all any of us can do is put up a good fight.”
She smiled softly and Garrett felt as if she’d opened the window to his soul, took a peek inside and wasn’t afraid of what she saw.
“Is that what you do every day, Ms. Williams, put up a good fight?”
“I give it my best. Just like you.”
He wanted to uncoil his fist, take her hand, hold it, and bring it to his lips. It was just that kind of moment. But he knew better. As if reading his thoughts, she took her hand away.
He gave her a half smile. “It seems as if we may have crossed one of the great divides. I think that constitutes the use of first names. My friends call me Gary.”
Dione lowered her gaze a moment, her heart beating a bit too fast, then looked up. “Mine call me Dee.”
“Friends?”
“Friends.”
They spent the balance of the meal sharing stories about their careers, her early days in real estate and his in video. Garrett had her choking on her wine spritzer with a story about a crazy request he’d gotten from a ninety-year-old client who ambled into his office about three weeks into operation and asked for an X-rated video of him and his thirty-year-old wife. And the array of clients who, no matter how hard you tried, were never satisfied, even though you’d done exactly what they asked. “The problem is, they don’t know what they want to begin with,” he said.
“And of course that’s your fault,” she said laughing.
“Of course.”
Dione shared some of the high points of her time at Chances Are. The success stories and some of the failures. “But I enjoy the holidays most. It’s a beautiful thing to see the girls and their children gather around our tree. For most of them we’re the only family they have. Some of them visit with friends, or distant relatives but most of them don’t. So the staff works extra hard to make it special.”
Moment by moment he was beginning to see Chances Are through Dione’s eyes, through her enthusiasm. Everyone had a calling. That was hers and he couldn’t help but admire what she was doing, even if he couldn’t quite come to grips with the reasons why she had to in the first place.
“Can I ask you something?”
She gave him a raised eyebrow look. “Okay. Ask.”
He leaned forward a bit. “Why did you finally agree to the documentary?”
She took a breath and weighed her response. She could simply say she just decided it was a good idea, or she could tell him the truth. She paused for a long moment.
“Chances Are is in serious financial trouble,” she finally admitted. “If we don’t get funding in the next four to six months we’ll have to close and those girls and their children will be placed in city shelters, or worse. Many of them won’t want to go and without family to turn to they’ll wind up on the street.” Her heart thumped. Every time she thought about it, not to mention say it out loud, she had a momentary panic attack as she watched herself wander the streets at night, sleeping in filthy shelters and on train cars.
Garrett frowned. “What?”
She blinked away the vision then slowly nodded. “We wanted to use the documentary as both a promotional tool and a demonstration to potential funders as to what we’re really about and the need for us to stay in existence. But when you said it would take that long to finish it, I thought maybe the PSA would help a little in the meantime. My friend Terri Powers—”
“The public relations diva?”
She smiled. “You’ve heard of her, I take it?”
“Who hasn’t? She handles some big-time accounts. She’s a friend of yours, too?”
Dione laughed outright at that one. “Yes. Terri and I go back quite a few years.”
The question was on the tip of his tongue: if you have all these high-powered friends, why is your business in trouble? And in the next breath he realized why. Dione Williams was a proud woman. Not one to run to friends for favors, or ask for help. She wanted to handle her own affairs, even if she had to struggle in the process.
“So what is your friend Terri planning to do?”
“I’m going to put the tape in her hands and let her work her magic.”
He nodded. This certainly put a new twist on things, and on his perspective. The situation must have been pretty desperate for Dione to go against all her policies and instincts to agree to this project. The very idea that a project he worked on had the potential to save an organization, and more importantly a very special individual, gave him that last shot of inspiration that he needed. The finished product would be the best thing he’d done. Grant or no grant.
“I want to get started on the PSA before the end of the week,” he said turning intense and serious.
Dione had to adjust her train of thought to catch up with the sudden change in Garrett. But she liked it. She liked the fire in his eyes and the way he could shift from stand-up comedian to introspective to the cynic to the serious man about business. What other hidden personas hovered beneath the surface of this obviously complex man?
“Do you think you could work out what you’d need to say by the end of the day tomorrow?”
“I—think so. Sure.”
“Good. I’d like to come back to your office, get some footage to use along with your audio. I know it’ll be more effective than just to have you in the studio talking into a camera. Although I’m sure you’ll be wonderful,” he added, reverting to the charmer.
Suddenly she felt vulnerable, exposed under the heat of his stare. She looked away, focusing on the remainder of her food.
Garrett Lawrence was a very interesting man.
“Thank you for a great dinner,” she said, as they stood side by side in the garage waiting for their cars to be brought down from the upper level, and pretending they weren’t inhaling the exhaust fumes that hung in the air like storm clouds.
“I enjoyed it and the company.”
She glanced at him, feeling his stare. Her heart knocked against her chest. How was she going to maintain a professional relationship with this man if she turned into a ball of nerves every time he looked at her?
She’s beautiful, he thought, inside and out. This was the first woman in ages who had him thinking about more than just the moment—maybe tomorrow.
He took a quiet breath and looked away. Dione hadn’t given him the slightest indication that she was interested in anything more than the services he could provide. So there was no point in speculating.
Dione’s car was brought down first, followed shortly after by Garrett’s. She walked over to her car and dug in her purse to tip the driver when she felt a hand halt her action. She looked up at Garrett.
“I’ll take care of it. Tonight is my treat.”
She’d insisted from the start of the evening that this “wasn’t a date” and he’d heartily agreed, but wouldn’t give in. They’d had a brief debate at the restaurant about the bill until she finally gave in and let him pay. No sense in challenging the program now, she mused. It was a guy thing.
He followed the driver to the cashier’s booth.
While he took care of the bill and the tip, she got in her car and buckled up. By the time he returned, she was revved up and ready to go, relieved to breathe the recycled air in her car.
He stopped alongside her door, and she rolled down her window.
“Do you want me to follow you home, make sure you arrive safely?”
There was that smile again.
“I’ll be fine. But thanks for the offer.”
“Then I guess this is good night.”
“Call the office in the morning and let Brenda know what time you’ll be arriving.”
“Sure.”
She started to roll up her window.
“Are you going to tell me how you know Ashford and Simpson, or are you going to leave me in suspense?”
Her smile took on a mischievous glint.
“Suspense is a good thing. Keeps the adrenaline going,” she teased. “I’m sure there are tons of secrets you have.”
His gaze zeroed in on her face. “Maybe I’ll share them with you one day.”
Her stomach took a wild leap when the sudden depth of his tone reached down inside of her again. She swallowed.
“Good night.”
“Good night, Dee.”
She pulled off. Quick. Not sure what would have happened if she’d stayed a second longer. But what reality didn’t provide, her imagination substituted as she thought of Garrett Lawrence and all the possibilities the entire drive home and through the night.
Chapter 10
“It’s not cool what you’re doing, man,” Jason warned as he maneuvered the Ford Explorer that they used to transport equipment through the midday traffic. “Even thinking about getting involved with a client is bad business. If it got out, we could blow the grant. And need I remind you that we desperately need new equipment—equipment that we’re planning to purchase with that money?”
Garrett glared at him from the corner of his eyes. He knew Jason was right, but he didn’t care. Thoughts of Dione seemed to follow his every waking hour. Maybe they did have some philosophical differences, but it didn’t stop him from liking her. He wanted to know her better. But Jason was right, it wasn’t worth the risk. Besides she hadn’t given him any reason to think she was interested. Hmm, maybe that was the turn on.
