Chapter 1-2
893 Words
“Ms. Hawthorne?” Blaine’s smile was ingratiating when the woman turned to look at him. “I thought your speech tonight was very inspiring. It gave me food for thought.”
“Thank you,” she replied, seeming somewhat impatient to get away from the people surrounding her who were offering her similar compliments.
She was middle-aged and, to Blaine’s way of thinking, looked every day of her forty-eight years. She had also, according to what he’d found out, gone through a bad divorce only a month ago.
“I was wondering…” He hesitated, took a deep breath as he pushed the dark-rimmed glasses he was wearing back up on his nose, and continued. “I’m planning on opening my own business. I know it’s an imposition, but I would love some input from you about my plans.”
She looked him over, one eyebrow arched, and he was certain she was going to tell him to call her office to make an appointment.
Instead she asked, “What kind of business?”
He handed her the prospectus he had put together with Lloyd’s able assistance.
She scanned it, then said, “You do realize this will be a niche business.”
“Yes, ma’am. However I firmly believe there is a need for it. It’s why I wanted to speak with you. It would mean the world to me to get your input, and I know I should have waited until morning and called to set up an appointment for us to talk, but…” He glanced away as if embarrassed.
“But?”
“But I’m not rich and every cent I have is going into my new company, if I can figure out what I’m doing, and damn that makes me sound like a rank amateur but it’s the truth.”
She finally smiled. “It makes you sound honest. A rarity these days, I’m afraid. Particularly with the younger generation who think they know everything about everything.” She eyed him, and there was a touch of the predator in it—just as he’d hoped. “I might be willing to help you gratis but not at my office. Perhaps over dinner some evening?”
“I’m free tomorrow night, if you are. I’ll pay for dinner, of course.”
“Of course,” she murmured. “Do you have some place in mind?”
He pretended to think momentarily. “Have you been to the new restaurant that opened about a month ago in the Cherry Creek Mall? From what I’ve heard it’s very nice.” And very dark and romantic if we get a table in one of the smaller rooms. Of course he didn’t say that aloud but he hoped she did know where he was talking about—and had the same thought.
“I went there last week with a friend, if we’re thinking about the same one.” When he named the restaurant, she nodded. “It is.” She took out her phone, scrolled through it to, he figured, her appointment calendar. “I’m free tomorrow night. Shall we say at seven-thirty? And Mister…Well, you never did introduce yourself.”
“Blaine Ayers.”
“Mr. Ayers, please bring copies of all the information I’ll need about your nascent business.”
“Of course. Would you like me to make a reservation?”
She smiled, tapping a bright red fingernail on the phone, then said a moment later, “All taken care of. I’ll see you tomorrow evening. Do be on time. I hate to be kept waiting, even by someone a good-looking as you.” With that, she walked away, stopping to talk with several other people as she made her way out of the ballroom where she’d given her speech.
* * * *
“The b***h agreed to dinner,” Blaine said to Lloyd the moment he walked into the condo he and his brother shared. Of course, as far as the building management and their neighbors were concerned, only Blaine lived there. Whenever anyone saw one or the other of them, they presumed it was Blaine. But then that was the idea.
“When?”
“Tomorrow night.” Blaine took the glasses he’d been wearing from his pocket, putting them down on the coffee table. “We’d better decide what we’re going to wear—besides the glasses—down to the color of our socks. It wouldn’t do for some waiter at the restaurant to notice I had on black ones and you’re wearing navy blue when you’re at Departure. Of course the chances the cops will put things together and come looking for me are nil, but…”
“The devil’s in the details, as always. Being prepared will keep that from happening.” Lloyd rapped his knuckles on the wooden side table. “Have you picked the spot yet?”
“More or less. My car will be parked in a back corner of one of the levels in the garage, away from prying eyes.”
“Of course it won’t be your car,” Lloyd said, stating the obvious.
“Nope.” Blaine chuckled. “Imagine how the real owner will feel when he returns to it. I’ll either offer Ms. Hawthorne a ride home, if she came by cab, or ask her if she’d mind our stopping by my car before she leaves so I can give her some paperwork I inadvertently left in it. Damn, I hope she’s not a teetotaler.”
“For sure. Okay, let’s work out the details down to, as you put it, the color of socks we’ll be wearing. But not right now. I’m beat.”
Blaine snorted. “You’ve been sitting here watching whatever—” he gestured toward the big-screen TV, “—while I was attending her speech. What have you got to be tired about?”
“Maybe I didn’t stay home?”
“Lloyd.” Blaine shot him a dour look.
“Okay, I did. I’m not stupid.”
“I know. After tomorrow night you can be the one who gets to go out and play.”
Lloyd grinned. “Dinner and a movie with the sweet Ms. Jennifer in 403?”
“Whatever turns you on. It is your turn. Hell, maybe next time we’ll use her as our alibi.”
“As infatuated as she is with you, getting into her bed should be no problem. Something to consider.” Lloyd got up. “For now, though, I’m off to my own lonely bed.”
“You and me both.” Blaine headed to his room, feeling almost euphoric as he thought about the next evening and what would happen with Ms. Hawthorne.
- Writer
