Finding Love for a Cynic (2 page)

For the moment, the mood was lightened.  However, the rest of the evening was tinged with a small degree of apprehension that mojitos and wine alone couldn’t diminish.   After the last incident, Myron and Danny had warned Delona that critical steps would be taken if she brought any more negative attention to the company.  She sure hoped this guy was a nobody.  Her gut, however, told her otherwise.

Chapter 2

Monday morning came all too soon.  Delona hated Mondays.  It was the only day she was required to go in to the office, rain, sleet, or snow — Okay, maybe not sleet or snow.  This was L.A., after all, and the weather was actually one of the few things she had come to enjoy since moving here.   But she had to be at the office, no matter what.  Lucky for her, Cara was a native and none too afraid of the maddening traffic or insane driving associated with the City of Angels. 

When Myron had first suggested that she share a living space with another person, Delona had protested.  Little had she known at the time she would come to not only tolerate Cara but also gain one of the best friends she had ever had.  At first, the Latin music Cara insisted on blaring every Saturday morning while she cleaned had grated on Delona’s nerves to no end.  She had never heard that type of music while living in Maine.  But a few salsa and merengue lessons from Cara had resolved all that.  Now they both cleaned while gyrating and working their bodies to the upbeat music.  Cara’s wisdom and odd sense of humor also made up for her constant nagging.

Delona forced herself out of bed before the comfort of it could coerce her into sleeping longer.  The urge to do so was so enticing.  After showering, she dressed in her usual Monday business suit, hoping that for once the others wouldn’t give her smack for wearing it.  It was a cute little navy blue pantsuit that she had acquired from a second-hand store back in Portland.  She had bought it as a treat to herself after graduating from the master’s program.  Under the jacket, she wore a white faux turtleneck polyester-rayon shirt.  She owned the same shirt in three different colors.  She had bought them to appease her brother when he demanded that she put more variety into her wardrobe.  Black Mary Jane loafers completed the odd ensemble.

“Are you about ready?” Cara shouted from the living room.

“Just a sec.” 

Delona quickly pulled her wild mass of coarse hair into a white scrunchie.  She examined herself in her dresser mirror, pleased with her outfit.  A little lip gloss was added to her thick lips to keep them from drying out in the air-conditioned environment.  She was glad to see her skin had finally cleared up after breaking out from that makeup she purchased at the dollar store.  Cara’s insistence that she wear some was the only reason she had tried it in the first place.  Cara was adamant that it had been the quality of the makeup that had caused the problem, and was still trying to persuade her to try again. But Delona didn’t have the time, the patience, or the funds to be running around town trying to find the perfect war paint.  Especially at the obscene prices her roommate had quoted.   

Grabbing her keys and purse, she made the short walk from her bedroom to the living room where she was greeted with that scowl that Cara seemed to reserve especially for her.  It amazed her how quickly that Hollywood smile could be replaced by that scowl. 

“You’re really going to wear that again?” Cara asked.

Delona felt her cheeks heat up.  She wasn’t in the mood for another one of her roommate’s lectures this morning.  “Why not?  I see no need to purchase a whole wardrobe when most of my time is spent here behind closed doors,” she stated while pointing both index fingers toward the floor.  “Besides… I rather like this outfit.  It’s comfortable.”  She shimmied for emphasis.

Cara pursed her lips but didn’t say another word.  She turned on her platform high heels and led the way out the apartment building toward the car. 

Delona followed, knowing she had upset her roommate and wondering how her friend deftly maneuvered the many stairs leading down to the parking lot while wearing those suicide-heels.  She didn’t like it when they had these arguments, but she wasn’t going to let Cara keep harping on her.  Not everyone chose to dress like Katie Couric just to go to a weekly meeting amongst family and friends.  Delona was grateful Cara had at least forgone the “you’re an executive for goodness sakes” speech and the “why do you hide your figure?” speech.  Enough was enough. 

They sat in the car, not speaking as they inched through traffic.  The only voice in the vehicle was that of Delona’s favorite DJ, Sonny Wales.  His show was one of the few things she had found entertaining in the City of Angels.

Sonny:  “
Hey all, and a happy Monday to you.  Wanna take a moment to welcome my new boss to the studio, Andrew Carter CEO at large.  Coming at us by way of The Big Apple, New York, New York.”
  

Andrew:
  “Pleasure to be here, Sonny.”

Sonny:
  “I know you’ve only been in L.A. for a week now, but how’s the West Coast treating you?”

Andrew:
  “Great, although, I do have to say I went to a party last Saturday hosted by that new publishing company, Soul of the Matter.”

Sonny:
  “Do tell.”

Cara and Delona looked at one another.  Delona was sure the concern on her roommate’s face matched her own.

Andrew:
  “Awesome party!  Myron and Danny are fabulous, and I wish them the best of luck in their budding business.”

The roommates simultaneously let out the breath they’d been holding.

“But I made the mistake of checking out this sexy little number with big hair.”

Oh shit!

 “I thought she might be into me too… until she turned and gave me the most condescending look.”

“Ah man!” Delona exclaimed.  “At least he doesn’t know who I am,” she stated, turning her eyes toward Cara.

Sonny:
“You’re kidding me!  Could she not see how hot you are? And, ladies, I mean sizzling.”

Andrew:
  “Thanks, Sonny, ha, ha, ha.   But that’s not even the irony of the whole thing.  I later find out that not only is she Myron’s sister… the woman is a romance author.”

“Oh God!  Turn it off!  Turn it off!” Delona shouted.  Cara quickly complied. 

Delona wanted to curl up into a ball and hide from this cruel world she’d come to.  She hid behind her hands, unable to face anyone at that moment.  Not even Cara.  Why did it seem like everyone in this town had it in for her?    

Cara’s panicked voice breached her cocoon.  “D-don’t take it like that, Dee.  Maybe Myron won’t find out about it.   Or-or maybe he can talk to Mr. Carter or something,” she said, stammering over her words.  “It’ll be okay.  You forget that Myron and Danny have a strange sense of humor.  We’ll all be laughing about this in no time… hee, hee.”

***

Laughing in no time, my ass. The brotha is pissed!
Delona thought as she sat through another one of her brother’s rants.  She hated when Myron acted like this.  Just because he was ten years older than she was didn’t give him the right to treat her like some kind of idiot.  She held her tongue, allowing her eyes to diligently follow her brother while he paced behind his massive desk.  Myron’s hands were a blur as he gestured furiously in front of him.  She was starting to believe that some of Danny’s spicy Latin heritage was rubbing off on her older brother.  Myron’s normally handsome face was strained by the stress of the morning and she started to feel guilty for being the source of it.  Her only saving grace was that Danny was running late, thus unable to add his usual fuel to the heat of the latest controversy.

“What the hell were you thinking?  No, no… Don’t answer that because we all know you weren’t!  Don’t you roll your eyes at me, sister-girl!  This is not the time to try me.” 

Delona met Myron’s green-hazel eyes. 
Damn!
She hadn’t realized she was doing it.  “Look.  I said I was sorry.  I didn’t mean to offend him, no matter who he is…was…whatever.”

“Your apologies are getting tired.  We can’t keep letting this happen, Dee.  All you had to do at that party was smile, hang out, and be cordial.”

“I was trying to, but—”

“Trying isn’t going to cut it!” he shouted, stopping abruptly to pound his manicured fist on the desk.  He pointed his index finger at her.  “You need to work on your social skills.  The lessons start today.”

Delona’s mouth fell open.  She found herself blinking uncontrollably as a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding escaped her.  “You mean you’re not going to fire me?”  For the first time since hearing Andrew that morning, she allowed herself to relax.

“Fire you?” he shouted, straightening his posture and staring at her wide eyed.  “And give your parents a reason to chew on my ass every New Year’s, Christmas, and every gathering in between for the rest of my natural life?  I don’t think so.  Knowing them, they’ll probably outlive my ass, as well as my future grandchildren.”  He leaned over the desk again, using the palms of his hands to support his tall frame.  “But you…” he continued, pointing one long brown finger at her again.  “You are going to do something about this problem of yours.  And what the hell have I told you about wearing that ridiculous outfit in here?  You’re one of our senior editors, dammit!  You need to start dressing the part.”

Delona grabbed the lapels of her suit jacket.  “What the heck’s wrong with my outfit?” she demanded to know.

Myron straightened and placed his hands on his narrow hips.  He started to say something but opted to close his eyes and let out a long sigh.  Slowly, he shook his head from side to side as if praying in a way only he and the good Lord could comprehend.

“Go on,” he said, his temper now deflated.  “Cara and the others are waiting for you.”

Chapter 3

Relishing the small reprieve, Delona quickly vacated her brother’s presence.  Stepping out of his office, a now familiar chill ran down her spine, causing her to shiver.  She quickened her steps to get away from what she knew was the source of her discomfort, but the eerie feeling followed her.  She chanced a quick glance over her shoulder.  As usual, Renee was giving her that creepy stare she always seemed to reserve specifically for her.  Those beady eyes of hers were so penetrating that Delona felt nothing short of being ex-rayed by the old Korean woman who worked as head assistant to Myron and Danny.  At least her interaction with the strange woman had been limited. Renee hadn’t been at her desk when Delona arrived that morning.

“Good morning,” Delona tossed over her shoulder in an attempt to remain cordial.  There was no excuse for bad manners no matter how creeped-out one was.  Renee tilted her head forward slightly but continued staring at her in that habitual expressionless manner.  Delona let out a sigh of relief when she was far enough away to avoid any more polite conversation with the uptight woman.

Avoiding the obstacle known as Renee hadn’t prevented her heart from pounding wildly in her chest at the thought of all the horrible things her brother could come up with to “straighten her out.”  She understood the need to subdue her expressions and had fleetingly considered Botox as an option.  But when he started dissing her clothes and hair, it served to do nothing short of royally pissing her off.  She took pride in having her own style.  Just because he wanted to blend didn’t mean she had to.

Doing her best to shrug off the impact of Myron’s words and Renee’s evil stare, she met her assistant, Katie, at the elevator.

“Good morning,” Katie sang as though it were Friday.

Delona caught herself before her eyes and head started following Katie’s long blond ponytail as it swung back and forth when she walked, reminding her of a pendulum.  “Uggh,” she responded, pressing the elevator call button more times than necessary.

“Yeah, I heard.  It’s going to be that kind of Monday for you, huh?”

“To say the least.”  Delona could still feel the chill of Renee’s stare.  She looked in the woman’s direction once more.  Sure enough, Renee continued to eyeball her.  The elevator finally arrived, providing her the escape she needed to get out of the woman’s line of vision.

“A little odd, isn’t she?” Katie stated.

“Whatever do you mean?” Delona responded in an attempt to remain professional.  She had never cared much for gossip but was now even less appreciative of it since if often involved her.

“Renee.  I saw the way she was looking at you.  She does it all the time.  I’d watch out for her if I were you.”  Katie leaned toward Delona, cupping her mouth as though someone might overhear her.  “Someone said they caught her watching gay porn the other day during her extended lunch break,” she whispered.

That was way too much information as far as Delona was concerned, and it did little to alleviate the discomfort factor.  “You don’t really believe that, do you?” she asked, trying to put on an air of indifference.  Katie shrugged, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her pink lips.  Delona started to suspect that her bubbly assistant was messing with her head.

Before she could inquire further, the doors of the elevator opened on their designated floor.  The two of them hurried down the hall to the photo studio, trying to make up for lost time, and knowing that Cara and her assistant, Ann, were waiting for them.  Picking the cover models for the various books they edited wasn’t Delona’s favorite task, but the devil of a deed had to be done.  Most of the models that auditioned were cool.  Those that didn’t make the cut one week usually did the next or the week after that.  That was the beauty of creativity.  It gave Delona and Cara the opportunity to suggest potential models to the authors whenever they hit a roadblock in the descriptive aspect of their stories.  This provided Soul of the Matter an endless stream of potentials because the models knew they would eventually have work.  As co-senior editor, Cara had been more than pleased to pass on this task to Delona as she had developed a great system that seemed to work well for all involved.  Not to mention it was so fast it gave them ample time to eat breakfast, chill, and then make it to the afternoon meeting on time.