Close Quarters: A Novel (Zane Presents) (3 page)

He removed his Burberry trench coat, unwrapped his scarf and then sat on the antique leather sofa in my reception area. “Ms. Bradford, I wanted to personally follow-up with you regarding the status of our meeting.”

My mind raced. Ellison Harlow III was actually sitting in my office. I was certain it was an indication I had landed his account,
but I contained my joy. It was the moment I had been waiting for.

I sat next to Ellis on the chair. “I appreciated the opportunity to present the unique services Trinity can provide Harlow Pharmaceuticals.”

“Ms. Bradford, while I feel Trinity Accounting and Tax is top-notch and more than qualified to meet our needs, we have decided to go with another firm.”

Not what I expected to hear. An uncomfortable silence filled the room as I struggled not to let my disappointment show. I got up and extended my hand. “Well, Mr. Harlow, thank you for the consideration.”

He hesitated before standing to grasp my outstretched hand. I pulled back from his gentle grip, but he held on.

Ellis cleared his throat. “Ms. Bradford, this is a bit awkward, but would you consider having a drink with me?”

A million thoughts crossed my mind. There was Ellison Harlow III telling me that my firm failed to secure his account, yet asking me out on a personal level. My head willed me to say no, but I heard a soft voice say, “Sure.”

“Great. My car is waiting out front.”

“Allow me to collect my things and I’ll be right out.”

Without Ellison standing in my face, reality settled in. He came down to my office specifically to ask me out. Perhaps that’s what the initial meeting was all about. My firm was probably never a real contender. How unprofessional! I wasn’t running a dating service. I expected more from a man whose company was voted one of the top ten places for women to work, by
Fortune
magazine the past two consecutive years.

I jerked my briefcase off the desk, turned off the lights and locked up. Ellison’s driver opened the door to the sleek black limo as I approached the curb. I slid onto the soft leather seat
across from Ellison Harlow III. His smoldering smile greeted me.

Before I allowed myself to get caught up in the moment, I fixed Ellison with an icy grin. “Perhaps you can help me understand something, Mr. Harlow.”

“Please, call me Ellis,” he replied, not deterred by my tone.

“Right . . .Ellis. Well, Ellis, if Harlow Pharmaceuticals would be a perfect fit for Trinity, then why is it that we didn’t get the account?”

“I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

“Excuse me?”

“I could have given your firm the account, but it wouldn’t have worked out. Now I could sit here and pretend I agonized over my decision, but I didn’t. After we had lunch, my thoughts weren’t focused on Trinity Accounting and Tax or what your firm could do for Harlow Pharmaceuticals. I thought about you . . .and how to get to know you better.”

What nerve. There I was trying to build my business and run with the big dogs, and this man discounted me because he thought I was cute. “Who
did
you hire, Mr. Harlow?”

“I’m back to Mr. Harlow?” He chuckled. “We went with Sampson Dewer.”

“I see.”

“Trust me. You were one of our top candidates. And though we won’t be doing business together, I’ve spoken to a business associate of mine about you. Expect a call from Marty Sewell some time next week.”

“Martin Sewell?” The chill melted from my voice. “
The
Martin Sewell? CEO of Omega Toys?”

“The one and only. I hope you don’t mind.”

I smiled on the inside. “Why would I mind? I look forward to receiving Mr. Sewell’s call.”

If Ellison didn’t believe in my ability, he certainly wouldn’t have referred me to the toy magnate of the East Coast. I crossed my legs and relaxed back into the seat. I had hit the jackpot—in more ways than one.

• • •

I sipped my coffee and flipped through the Sunday
New York Times
. I had every intention of rollerblading in Fort Greene Park, but Mother Nature had something else in mind.

A driving rain pelted the window with such force I was drawn to peer out at the downpour. The wind whipped through the trees, shaking loose the fall foliage. Broken branches and leaves littered the street. I pressed my hand to the glass, and found it to be much colder than I thought. It was the kind of day to snuggle with a loved one and watch old movies.

I returned to the couch and turned on the television. Malik shuffled into the living room, eyes barely open. Last night, we parted ways after dinner. When I came home, Malik went elsewhere.

Malik eased down onto the couch like a man twice his age. He leaned his head back against the pillows and groaned. I glanced over at him . . .five o’clock shadow . . .wrinkled tank . . .sweats . . .bare feet . . .hangover.

Malik turned pleading eyes on me. “Please tell me we have Alka Seltzer in the house.”

I took pity on him. “I’ll get you some.”

“Thanks, Mel,” he mumbled.

I went to retrieve the cure to Malik’s ailments from the medicine cabinet. I dropped two tablets into a glass of water and prepared a cold compress while the medication fizzed and bubbled.

I handed Malik the glass, hovering over him until he finished its contents. I instructed him to lie back on the couch and then placed the compress on his head. “Where did you go last night?”

“I ended up at a lounge on Dekalb. My boys met me down there and we set the party off right.”

“I hope it was worth it. You look like crap.” His café au lait complexion was pale, almost ashen. “What’s the point of partying when this is the end result?”

Malik winced at me through slits. “I’ll let you know once I feel better. Right now, I’m not up for being analyzed.”

I left him alone and went to the kitchen to pour myself another cup of coffee. I considered heading to the office since my plans for the day were ruined by the weather, but decided that working on a rainy Sunday was a bad idea. I settled on going to a movie and then maybe doing a little shopping. I picked up my mug and started toward my room. A groan stopped me in my tracks. “Are you going to be all right, Malik?”

I walked back to the living room. Malik’s lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear a thing. I bent down in front of him, trying to figure out what he was whispering.

He took the compress from his head. “Can you run this under cold water?”

I snatched the compress from him and went to kitchen with it. I returned and plastered the compress across Malik’s forehead.

“Thanks, Mel.”

I turned to go get dressed when Malik called my name. Again, I went to him on the couch. “Yes?”

“Can you rub my back?”

I scowled. “Can I what?”

“I feel awful and I need to fall asleep. Please. Just for a few minutes.”

I was the one who groaned that time. I started to kneel in front of the couch, but Malik stopped me.

“No. Sit down right here.”

Malik leaned up so that I could sit on the couch. He turned on his side with his back facing me and laid his two-hundred-plus pounds across my lap. I frowned at the back of his head, wanting to slap it.

“Mel, come on.”

“Man, you better chill the hell out. Nobody told you to be out all night drinking like a fish.”

“Lecture me later. Right now, rub.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath. It took every ounce of my willpower to stay silent. I placed my hand on his back and began to gently make small circles. Malik moaned. I moved my hand up and down his back in a slow, soothing motion.

In a few minutes, his breathing evened out and his head sank deeper into my lap. I stopped rubbing, and when Malik didn’t protest, I realized that he had fallen asleep. I sat, thinking about how to move from the couch without waking him. The phone rang. I tried to get up, but Malik was oblivious and did not budge. I had no choice but to let the machine retrieve the call. I slid my hand underneath Malik’s shoulder and attempted to lift his six-foot-four frame from my lap. He shrugged me off, tightening his arm around my legs. I leaned my head back against the pillows and sighed. Apparently, I was staying home.

• • •

I was roused by the ringing of the telephone again. I leapt from the couch, bumping my shin against the coffee table. Hobbling into the kitchen, I snatched the phone from its cradle.

“Where have you been? I’ve been calling you for the past three hours.”

“Oh . . .I . . .I must have dozed off. Why, what’s going on, Ellis?”

“I wanted you to have lunch with Mother and me, but we’ve already eaten now. I just got her settled at home and I’m on my way back from Manhattan.”

I smiled, thankful for the reprieve. It seemed Malik’s drunken stupor had benefited me after all. “I’m sorry I missed
Bebe
.”

“Don’t be cute, Lina.”

“I’m not being cute. You heard your mother tell me to call her Bebe. I’m only respecting her wishes.”

Ellis sighed into the phone. “I’m coming to pick you up and take you back to Long Island. Are you dressed?”

“I’ll be ready when you get here.”

“Good. Pack enough clothes for the week. I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”

Before I could respond, Ellis hung up. I glared at the receiver and spoke to no one in particular. “Yes, Master.”

I turned to replace the handset and found Malik leaning against the wall, smiling.

I jumped, almost dropping the phone. “Look who’s returned from the living dead.”

He was dressed in a pair of dark-blue jeans and a bulky, chocolate-brown turtleneck sweater. “I’m feeling one hundred and ten percent better.”

Malik took the phone from my hand and returned it to its place on the wall. He leaned over, kissed me on the cheek and then headed straight for the refrigerator.

I stood there, wondering if he was still intoxicated from the night before. “Malik—”

“Thanks for taking care of me, Mel.”

“No problem,” I said, snickering. “Your condition saved me from a lunch date from hell.”

“With your future mother-in-law?”

“How long were you listening to my conversation?”

Malik took a bottle of cranberry juice from the fridge, placing it on the counter. “Don’t get riled up. I didn’t intentionally listen to your call. I sort of overheard what you were saying to
Master
.” He brought the bottle up to his smiling lips.

“Whatever, Malik.” I left him standing in the kitchen, enjoying his own joke.

“Mel, I’m kidding,” he called down the hallway.

I went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I had to rush to get ready and didn’t have time for Malik with his silly taunts. I showered, dried off and smoothed on my lotion. Male conversation greeted me as I emerged from the bathroom. Great. Ellis had arrived already and was waiting on me. His two least favorite things.

Ellis disliked coming to Brooklyn. He always complained about the traffic, the noise, the parking; you name it. And he despised waiting. If you weren’t on his time, then your clock must be wrong.

I shouted from my bedroom door. “I’ll be right out.”

Ellis and Malik both responded. “Okay.”

Malik was trying to get a rise out of Ellis and, as usual, Ellis took the bait.

Fast only hinted at how long it took to pack my bag. I threw on my black jeans with a black-fitted turtleneck and a black belt. My high-heel boots made the outfit complete. I pulled my hair back into a tight bun and dotted my lips with a bit of gloss. My summer tan had long faded and the freckles across my nose were prominent against my sugar cookie brown skin. I sprayed on my scent du jour and hurried into the living room.

Ellis and Malik sat across from one another, debating about whether the republicans in Congress were doing a good job or not. Malik was a democrat and Ellis, a staunch republican. They would never see eye to eye and neither could be swayed, yet they insisted on arguing over politics.

I cleared my throat. “Babe, my bag, please.”

Ellis stood up, still bantering with Malik. He took my bag from me. I went to the closet to get my light-blue, cropped leather jacket.

“You look nice, Mel,” Malik said.

“Her name is Lina. I can’t fathom why you insist on referring to her as if she is one of your homeboys,” Ellis responded.

“Mel . . .Lina . . .it doesn’t matter.” I moved between them. “Thank you, Malik,” I said, warning my roommate with my eyes. “Let’s go, Ellis.”

“Take care,
homeboy
,” Ellis said.

Malik smirked. “Later,
brother
.”

T
he rain had subsided and the late-day sun peeked through the thick, gray clouds. I was strapped into the passenger seat of Ellis’s Porsche, listening to him rant about how ignorant he found Malik. I reached over and turned on the satellite radio. It was tuned to smooth jazz. George Benson was singing about being lost in a masquerade. I started to sing along. Ellis stopped his tirade.

“Am I boring you, Lina?”

“Relax, Ellis. Every time you see Malik, you get upset. The two of you don’t share the same viewpoints. Why do you persist in trying to engage him in these political or philosophical debates and then get angry when he disagrees with you?”

“I’m not angry,” he said, nostrils flaring.

“You’re not? You have been going on about this for the last fifteen minutes. You haven’t asked me how I’m doing, about my day, nothing.”

Ellis sighed. “I’m sorry.” He finally saw me for the first time that day. His eyes traveled from my head to my toes. “You are absolutely beautiful.”

I leaned over and kissed him on the lips. “Thank you.”

Ellis could be a real pain when he wanted to be, but I loved him. He possessed a raw honesty that I respected, even when I didn’t
necessarily agree with him. At that moment, staring at his rugged profile, I realized that I wanted to spend my life with him. I got lost in the graceful movement of his long lashes every time he blinked. Thought about the way his strong jaw felt against my cheek when he held me close to him. Pictured his burnished brown skin against my own. I licked my lips, savoring the taste and the memory his full mouth left behind.