Chapter 20
D
arius stepped into his mother’s office as the sole operator. He kicked his feet up on the desk, leaned backward, and clamped his hands behind his head. This week he was the boss. Trapped inside, his feelings stirred like a shaken soda. Keeping the top on, he covered up his emotions because he had to be strong for his mother. Wellington volunteered to assist him in the office, but Darius reassured his pops he could handle it.
Since each of his executives had met or at least seen his fiancée last Friday, Darius took Maxine’s photo out of his drawer and placed the picture on the credenza behind his desk. Her place was to support him, not to overshadow him. Up until Friday night Maxine had done great. Under his name his new title read CEO/VP. Damn, twenty years old and living larger than life. He was the shit.
Picking up the phone, he said, “Shannon, cancel the group meeting and set up individual meetings for me. I want to see Miranda in my office at nine o’clock.” Miranda was definitely a morning person. “Zen at eleven. Heather at one o’clock, and Ginger at three.” He’d saved the best for last.
“Is there anything else, Mr. Jones?”
“Yes, tell each of them to come prepared to workout the details of their proposals for the conference and tell them
not
to bring their assistants.”
Fifteen minutes before Miranda would be announced, Darius entered his private restroom, freshened his breath, washed his face and hands, and put a splash of cologne at the base of his hairline above his collar. By the time he sat at his desk, he had five minutes to spare, so he waited.
Shannon buzzed again and said, “Mr. Jones, Miranda is here.”
“Send her in.” Darius sat up straight.
Miranda walked in wearing a red wraparound dress that stopped above her knees. “Well, hello and congratulations.”
Darius changed places to the sofa and patted the cushion beside him. Miranda joined him. Her perfume and candy apple lipstick turned him on. “Thanks. I presume you mean my new positions.”
Smiling, Miranda answered, “Yes, that and your fiancée.”
On that note, Darius gave Miranda one foot of space as he scooted over. “So, how many sponsors do you have?” Darius asked. Maxine was not on their agenda.
Rubbing his knee, Miranda asked, “How are you doing? I didn’t expect you to be at work today, considering your grandmother passed only two days ago. I know how close you were to her.”
Moving a little closer, Darius said, “Well, my mother is in no condition to return. One of us had to be here, so that left me. It’s hard at times, but I’ll get through it. Thanks for asking.” His feelings were genuine, but playing the sympathy card didn’t hurt. Darius noticed Miranda staring at Maxine’s photo.
“I can help take your mind off of things for a moment. That is if you’d like.” Miranda extended the V in her blouse. Unsnapped the front of her bra and exposed her breasts. Darius watched Miranda’s nipples harden.
Darius gently grabbed Miranda’s hair. He loved the way her silky curls wrapped around his fingers. Then he pulled her lips close to his, and said, “No Thanks.” His erection objected, but he overruled because Miranda needed weaning. Red lipstick was too risqué and difficult to remove, so he fantasized about fondling Miranda’s breasts:
One at a time. He stood, and Miranda assumed the position. She leaned over the couch. Darius loosened his belt and let his pants fall to his knees. He wobbled over to his coat rack and retrieved a platinum-wrapped condom from his inside coat pocket. Darius put the rubber on the head of his penis and stuffed the foil back where he’d gotten it.
As he shuffled over to Miranda, he unrolled the condom to the base of his shaft. Darius spat on his hand and smeared it on the latex. Penetrating Miranda, he released what he’d held on to from his session with Kimberly yesterday. Darius came, placed the condom inside his handkerchief, and tossed the contents into a plastic bag.
“May I use your restroom,” Miranda asked.
When Miranda returned, Darius noticed her lipstick had been refreshed, so he made a mental note to check for remainders. Women were always trying to leave clues. Hairs. Tissues. Fragrances. Even the little twist caps from the douche bottles. A brother had to minor in forensic science just to stay ahead of the game.
Resuming her seat, Miranda said, “So you’re sure you won’t take me up on my offer. You zoned out there for a moment. You do have a lot on your mind.” Miranda reached for his tie.
Darius blocked her hand and put it on her lap. “So how many sponsors do you have?” Maxine was right. She deserved better, and since he didn’t want to lose her, he’d try. But it was hard as hell because he really wanted to explode inside Miranda instead of fantasizing about her.
“Six,” Miranda said, moving to the seat in front of Darius’s desk.
Following her lead, Darius sat in front of his credenza, obscuring Miranda’s view of Maxine. “Six? How much are they collectively contributing?”
“One point five million.” Miranda gathered the opening in her blouse.
“You’re one million dollars short. We need ten million dollars in sponsorship funds to have a successful conference. How do you plan to come up with your fourth of the funds?”
“Well, before you came, we were able to do the conference with less.”
“True, but the attendees were bored. That was the past. And that’s why I’m CEO. You know everyone is going to love my entertainment lineup for the conference. Not to mention my location. Next year it’s Trinidad!”
“And it’s not a fourth; it’s a fifth. So I only need five hundred thousand. How much do you have?” Miranda positioned her pen as if she were preparing to take dictation.
“I’m in charge! What I say goes, and if you don’t give me some respect, you’ll be out of here before the conference.” How dare that bitch question his authority.
“But if you don’t mind me saying—”
“Actually, I do. You have until Thursday to come up with one million dollars in sponsorships.” Darius stood. “End of meeting.”
“What changed you overnight. Damn.”
“Life is short. My grandmother lived to see me turn twenty. I believe that’s why she held on. She died at eighty-four. If I’m so blessed, I only have sixty-four years left. And I plan to squeeze in as much as I can every single day.” Darius zoomed in on Miranda’s breasts and said, “Somehow, I don’t think I’ll make it that far.”
Miranda stood. “You won’t if you start pushing me around.” She unlocked the door and stormed out.
Darius returned to his restroom. He had just enough time to freshen up and inspect before Zen arrived.
Just as he was entering his lavatory, his intercom buzzed.
He raced back and answered.
“Mr. Jones, Zen is here,” Shannon politely said.
Why wasn’t he surprised Zen was fifteen minutes early. “Send her in.”
High heels and a short silk printed skirt made her appear taller and slimmer. Zen sat in front of Darius’s desk and crossed her legs.
“So how was your weekend?” Darius asked.
“It could have been better.” Zen focused on Maxine’s photo.
“Yeah, I suppose mine, too. So how are your sponsorships coming along?”
“Three million and counting.” Zen responded with confidence. She was definitely his competitor. If he weren’t his mother’s child, Zen would undoubtedly be sitting in his chair, and they both knew it. Unfortunately for Zen, legacy ruled.
Zen walked behind his chair and massaged his shoulders. Darius moved his neck from side to side. “Ah, that feels great. I’m so stressed.” Zen eased her hand down his chest. Stopping her at his nipples, Darius said, “Not today.” He gestured toward her seat. “Please. Sit.”
Zen sat, then crossed and uncrossed her legs.
Resisting indulgence, Darius said, “After I return from my grandmother’s funeral in Oakland, I’d like to take you on a trip. That is if you’re interested.”
“You’re not embarrassed to be seen with a fifty-year-old woman?”
“Maybe. But not one that looks younger than me.” Darius knew how to get next to Zen. “And one more thing. I need to take two of your clients and handle them personally.”
Zen sprang from her seat. “I won’t give them to you. But why are you asking?”
“Don’t question authority. I’ll give you the details later.” It was time for Darius to shift the power where it belonged. His mother’s company was overdue for male dominance. Women hated to admit it, but they loved to see men running things, including them.
“Authority my ass. Just wait until Jada returns.” Zen paced in front of his desk.
Mixing business with pleasure had started to rear its ugly head. Attitude. Language. Things were definitely going to improve. “Don’t bother to sit. Meeting adjourned. And choose your words carefully if you want to remain my employee.”
“I did!” Zen shouted as she slammed the door behind her.
Darius took a deep breath, then grabbed his jacket and walked out. “Shannon, I’m going to lunch. I’ll be back at one.”
“Enjoy.” Shannon smiled.
When Darius returned from lunch, Heather was waiting in his office. “You’re early. Wait outside for a moment. I’ll be ready for you in a minute.”
“Wait outside?” Heather frowned.
Darius returned a look that required no further comment. Women. You definitely couldn’t give them an inch. They would certainly take it all. He didn’t need Heather to step out. It was the principle. Heather was smart, but also underhanded. He thought about Ginger for a minute. She was an absolute sweetheart. If Darius weren’t engaged to Maxine, he might have considered Ginger. He was man enough to handle the fifteen-year age difference.
Darius picked up his phone and buzzed Shannon. “Please send in Heather.”
“Certainly, Mr. Jones.”
“Shannon,” Darius said.
“Yes, Mr. Jones.”
“Don’t ever let anyone in my office without my permission.” One more policy change in effect. Eventually, he’d have all of them trained.
“I asked her to wait in the receptionist area, but she insisted,” Shannon explained.
“Shannon, you handle your responsibilities so I won’t have to. If I do, then one of us isn’t needed.” Darius hung up the phone and motioned for Heather to take a seat.
“How was lunch? Did you save room for dessert?” Heather asked as she sat in the chair.
She’d messed up already. She should have asked, “How are you doing?” Darius knew Heather was trying to gain control, so he baited his response. “Always.” Heather did give the best head. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have rhythm like Ginger. Maybe the offbeat was a plus. Or perhaps it was the chocolate she craved. At any rate, she ranked at the top of his list in oral copulation. Why couldn’t Maxine’s pussy feel like Miranda’s? Her hands, stroke like Zen’s? Give head like Heather? And have a butt that tasted like gingerbread? Darius had loved gingerbread since he was a kid.
Heather attempted to dive right in, but Darius stopped her. Fidelity was beginning to make him feel like a junkie going through detoxification. Since this was his first attempt to abstain outside of his relationship, Darius realized he was a sex addict.
“Please. Not now. We have to discuss business. Sponsors. How many do you have?” Darius questioned.
Heather sat and stared. “Enough. But I’m still working hard. I have a few leads.”
“I say how many is enough. I want specifics.” Darius impatiently waited for her answer.
“Two. But they’re both contributing a half a million each.”
“Two! You don’t even need to be in my office. Get out and don’t come back until you have your two point five million dollars in sponsorships.”
“Screw you, Darius. Your positions went to the wrong head.” Heather exited, but surprisingly didn’t slam his door.
He chilled until it was time for Ginger. Ginger was happy hour. Bright. Bubbly. Beautiful. She was his greatest challenge because she demanded royal treatment. Even for a nooner he had to take her to a five star hotel. Now that she knew he had a fiancée, Ginger would start pressuring him to call off his engagement and marry her like he’d promised. Thanks to his mother, Ginger had earned her Ph.D. from Harvard while working part-time from home. That was years ago. The one thing Ginger wore well was confidence. No matter how gorgeous a woman was, without self-assurance her attractiveness diminished significantly.
Shannon’s buzz interrupted his thoughts. “Mr. Jones, Ginger is here.”
Rubbing his palms together and bracing the phone between his ear and shoulder, Darius said, “Send her in.”
Ginger was five feet, two inches and barley one hundred pounds; the oldest and shortest of her three sisters. Ginger always wore three-inch heels and had a commanding presence whenever she entered any room.
“Good afternoon, boss. How are you doing? Nice tie,” Ginger said as she sat on the couch.
Darius loved the way Ginger always complimented him. Slowly Darius stepped from behind his desk and sat next to Ginger. The fragrance she wore smelled as rich as she looked.