BOMAW 1-3 (17 page)

“Well of course he’s not, idiot! You were supposed to be here for 8:30 your time …Uggggh!” She sank back dejected, noting that he hadn’t left an offline message to her. “You could have at least left me a message that you were here,” she whined, then sat up to check her email. When the list of sender’s names came up, his was number four…mcharley60

“Yes! Uh-oh…oh, oh, oh!” Nervously she shivered, excited. The subject line read…Stubborn, Proud, Sylvia Payne…I’m Sorry!

“Hm? Now why are you sorry?” she asked aloud, clicking on the blue-lit message. The email opened to read…

After reading the short email for the fifteenth time, Sylvia finally sat back. “Oh god, do you know that I am in sooo much trouble? He’s getting to me. Ha! He’s gotten to me.” She sighed. She grabbed her mouse to click on reply, but then changed her mind.

“Tomorrow is soon enough,” she said out loud then shut down her computer, rose and clicked off the light, going to her room. She unsnapped her jeans and stepped out of them, laying them on the chair there, walked to her bathroom and readied herself for bed. It took a while for her to fall asleep. The nap at his place, in his bed, made it hard for her to get back to sleep. Though in her own bed, she could smell him. His scent was heavy in her head. Suddenly her nice big comfortable bed felt cold and empty. Closing her eyes, she imagined what it would be like to have him laying behind her now. Talking low and sultry in her ear. His strong arms around her waist, pulling her back against him. His body large, warm, and firm against her.

“Girlfriend! You best get yo’ min’ on somethin’ else!” she exclaimed, popping her eyes open. “Oh god, what have I done to deserve this? This is gonna be so hard! I just know it. I—don’t—need—the drama! And with this man, I know it ain’t gonna be nothing but! I should have moved to Siberia,” she finished at last, laying on her back, looking up at the dark ceiling.

“This sucks!”

Shawn lay in bed, his eyes wide open. He’d fixed himself up good. fifty push-ups. fifty chin-ups. A hundred sit-ups. Three sets with the free weights of bicep curls, military presses and lunges. Then twenty minutes on the Elliptical. A cool shower following that, and one would think it would have worn him out to sleep. But at one in the morning, he was wide awake. He would have been alright, had he steered clear of any thoughts of her. But damned if finding her naked, save for the towel on his deck, didn’t come back to mind full and strong. He couldn’t get that smooth, tapered, defined back and spine of out his mind. Her skin was caramel brown and flawless. That towel stopped just before the round of her rear, where a small glimpse and tease of the line crack of her butt was about to show. He fantasized about pushing the towel further back to expose her rounded bottom. His fair hand, caressing her soft darker skin. He swallowed. In his fantasy, she lay there trapped, at his mercy…or no mercy. Because he wanted to take advantage of her disadvantage, grabbing a handful of her hair at the top of her head and forcing her head back. Her eyes wide, expectant, fearful…yet aroused as he sat beside her. Lowering his mouth to hers, filling it with his tongue. She'd whimper. He groaned.

“Oh—my—god! She turns me on,” he growled out loud. Stretching his large aroused body on his back, he looked down at himself, wondering had he ever been harder than he was right then. “Dude…we gotta get some sleep…as you may have noticed, we got nothing to work with here.” Sighing deep and shaky, he admitted this too, aloud, “Yeah, I know. It’s not your fault. You’re doing what you’re suppose to. So don’t stop, just…chill right now…I’ll stop thinking about her. Somehow, I’ll get those round, sweet breasts off my mind. Man! She is such a freakin' fox!” Shawn tried to turn over. He blew, exasperated.

“Two weeks. That’s fourteen days. 24 hours each…gonna have to stay super busy. Real busy."

After parking down from the Bistro, Shawn grabbed his briefcase, slamming the car door and made his way to the hostess. “I’m here to meet with the Kaplan party.” She smiled up at him, grabbed a menu and lead him to the table,
politely responding, “Right this way, Sir.”

As he approached, Gerard glanced up and smiled, waving him forward. Just then, a familiar head turned to him. Before the face and features became visible, he imagined the woman to be Sylvia. There was a definite resemblance, but then the full of her face became visible as the hostess laid down his menu before an empty seat. Pulling it out, he sat explaining himself. “Please excuse me for my tardiness. I have a nine year old daughter to get off to school.”

Mercy James smiled. “No problem. We just arrived as well. It’s nice to finally meet you,” she opened.

Yes, there is a slight resemblance,
he thought of Mercy James. Bringing Sylvia’s face to mind, there was one slight difference; Sylvia was prettier.
Darker.
Her skin a flawless, rich brown.
Delicious looking.
Mercy James had an olive complexion.
Dark eyes like Sylvia, but again, Sylvia’s were larger. Mercy’s lips were full. His Sylvia’s, fuller and plump…very kissable. A twinkle lit in Mercy’s eyes as she noticed his inspection.

“Something on my face you’re struggling to make me aware of?”

Shawn sat back, blushed and grinned. “Sorry, you just remind me of someone, that’s all, and I guess I was noting the differences,” he explained with a pleasant smile. Gerard Kaplan, his agent, cleared his throat. “Yes, well, how about we get down to business?” All agreed as Mercy James explained what it was she was looking for. He made rough outlines of a layout that she was describing. Half an hour into the meeting a man approached, looking to be in his mid to late 40’s.
Shawn was surprised to find out that he was her husband, Lowell James, and was
late for the meeting because of another meeting connected to their growing business, a newly established publishing house. Shawn was also surprised to see that he was white. He watched the look on Mercy James' face when her husband appeared; it was like someone turned a light on. Her smile was bright and her eyes sparkled just at the sight of him. Watching them, he noted that for a few moments of them greeting one another, they lost all interest in those present.

Lowell
smiled, placing a hand behind his wife's chair, bending to kiss her lips, which were raised eagerly to reciprocate.
That bit of pleasure over, he reached for a chair at another table to place next to his wife's. Shawn also noticed that it took Mercy James a few moments to draw her eyes away from her husband and back to the meeting at hand. Once she did, it was all business again. He also tried to ignore Lowell's hand at her neck where he caressed her gently.
They were in love.
Very much so.
There was something about seeing them
together that
made him think of Sylvia and himself. Was what he saw before him now, possible for them as well? They were all about the same age.

The meeting went much as he had expected it to go, with an extra consideration. Lowell James offered him a contract to look over, it entailed him being their main illustrator of all the manuscripts they accepted. He couldn't believe it, and of course shook their hands and agreed to give it a close look over. His schedule would be full for the next two weeks. Between setting up the layout for this cover, spending time with his daughter, and continuing his pursuit of Sylvia from a distance, his plate would be pretty full. He thought of Mercy James, another black author. She reminded him of Sylvia in many ways, beside their similar style of hair and dress. They were
both forthright, bold and decisive. Their main difference being, Mercy had succeeded in making the bestseller's list, with many of her books sought after for screenplays.

Driving to pick up his daughter, he thought also
of Lowell
James. A man strongly built,
blond with a receding hairline.
He had a Jack Nicholson look about him, while the better looking of the two and very distinguished.
By the look of things, very much in love with his wife.
For most of the time he was there, he didn't seem to want to take his eyes off of her; Eeen so, he was very much aware of what was happening around him. When it was time to make a decision, Mercy looked to him for direction. Though his gaze of admiration had been on her for the most part, he knew exactly what was going on, with their ideas and vision the same. They were in sync, with an obvious unity no one could deny. Again, he thought about Sylvia and himself. Would they, could they, be like the James'?

His next thought was
should
he take advantage of the contact for Sylvia? He wasn't sure about her writing style or how good she was, but he would keep this in mind. Who knew, maybe this was the start of something more to come.
Something good.
Monday morning he would meet with the group selected for the photo shoot and cover layout. The trilogy they
wrote
was historical, grand and sweeping. They both expected the cover of all three books to reach out and grab the potential reader upon opening the cover. Not batting an eye at his quote, they expected the best possible illustration, and he would be giving them just that. After all, he'd already decided to sign on with them as their publishing house illustrator, the money would be constant. He had some time still before picking Angela up so he'd stopped at the store, selecting various odds and ends to fill his cupboards and refrigerator while he was there with his daughter. They would get home, put everything away, and he'd grill up a couple of burgers and toss some fries in the oven to bake. After fixing the burgers, adding the fries to the plate, they sat across from each other at the table lost in thought before Angela asked,

“Daddy, can I come and live with you?” That question sat Shawn back.

“What brought that on?” he asked.

She stirred a fry into her ketchup, then brought it to her mouth and bit off the dipped tip. “I miss you,
that’s
all,” she answered, not yet looking at him. “Wouldn’t doing so make you miss your mother?” he asked, doing the same with a fry. Sighing softly, she shrugged. “I don’t know…maybe.” She finished off the fry then looked up at him. “Do you ever miss me?”

Shawn softened with compassion.
“Always.
I always miss you.”

“Then why’d you leave me? Why didn’t you stay close by?”

Shawn felt stuck by that question, because they'd kind of gone into that a bit the night before, only to find that discussion obviously wasn't enough. “Look,
pum'kin. California and me…well, I’m just not made of the stuff required to live happily in a place like this. I wanted your mom to see that and come to Wisconsin with me. But it just never happened.”

“You shouldn’t have cheated. Maybe she would have, if not for that,” she stated boldly. Not judgmentally, but honestly. Shawn nodded in agreement. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have. I was wrong and maybe she would have. Who knows? But that’s neither here nor there,
I will
never know.” Angela looked back at her plate, then picked up her burger and bit out of it. Shawn did the same, waiting for the rest to come out. As she chewed, he could see her wheels turning for the next hit. Finally, after sipping her soda, she asked,

“Any chance you love her at least a little, still?”

Chewing his own burger, Shawn swallowed and answered, “I will always love her. She gave me you. But there’s no chance of us getting back together,” he informed her honestly.

“Not even if she wanted to give it another chance?” she beseeched gently.

“There’s no chance of that,
pum'kin. Your mother would never consider getting back with me again.” As soon as he saw the look on her face, he knew he’d answered wrong. “But what if she did want to? Just…what if?”

Shawn sighed. “It’s too late,
pum'kin…it’s too late. I’ve gone on with my life. What your mother and I had, our marriage, is a part of a closed chapter. Never to be repeated.”

“If she is willing…I don’t see why you won’t at least give it a try! You said you would always love her! Then why not try and see if you could make it work this time?”