Kitabı oku: «Chances Are», sayfa 3

“Does that about cover everything, Ms. Williams?” Garrett asked when she’d finally concluded.

Jason shot him a look, knowing that Garrett was ready to bust, which Garrett totally ignored.

“There won’t be much for us to shoot,” he added.

She could see his smile was forced, but he couldn’t hide that dimple if he tried. Stay focused, girl. “I’m sure if you’re as skilled as you claim in your proposal you’ll find enough for your film.” She angled her chin in a challenge.

Hmm. He liked that. She didn’t back down. There was obviously no compromise with this one.

Garrett leaned forward, his voice dropped to a new low. “Believe me, Ms. Williams, I am as good as I say.”

She suddenly felt as if a raging furnace door had been opened and she was standing right in front. His comment was purely casual, it was the tone and the swift, dark look in his eyes that rocked her to the core.

She gave him a cursory smile. “We’ll have to see now, won’t we?” She stood. “May I have that tour now?”

“Sure.” He stood up. “Follow me.”

“Oh, I’ll just cover things until you get back,” Jason said, giving Garrett a wink on the side. “Nice meeting you, Ms. Williams. Looking forward to working with you.” He handed her her coat, which she draped over her arm.

Dione extended her hand and smiled. “Nice meeting you, also.”

Garrett and Dione stepped out into the corridor and across the hall. “A couple of my crew members are shooting a PSA—a public service announcement—in the main studio.”

“How many do you have—studios?” she asked as they walked into the control room and stood in the doorway.

“Two. The second one is down the hall.”

She watched the three monitors in the control room while the woman on the screen told whoever cared to listen why they should make a donation to the historical society.

“That’s Najashi,” he whispered not wanting to disturb them, as he pointed to a man in all black with the short twists in his hair. “And that’s Tom on the end working the audio.”

The first thing she noticed about Tom was the tattoo of a snake that peeked out from the collar of his oversized Tommy Hilfiger shirt.

“Come on, I’ll show you where the real work is done.”

He took her into the editing room, closed the door and dimmed the lights. Dione’s pulse quickened. Her body and mind went on full alert.

Garrett didn’t even notice her agitation. Once in the dimly lit editing room, he was in his element, explaining the different machines and lighted dials, what they did and how a program was put together from raw footage.

“Sometimes it can take hours just to put five minutes worth of usable footage together. But it’s the key to making the work look good.”

On the monitors, he showed her some of the projects he’d worked on and what each one was about.

As she listened to him talk, her tension slowly began to ebb. She could tell that he loved and believed in what he did, and he probably was just as good as he claimed. She had to admit she liked listening to the deep resonance of his voice when he spoke, watching the cool control of his long fingers as he demonstrated how the equipment worked and the way he took his time and answered her myriad questions about what each machine did and how without making her feel silly.

It was fascinating. And so was Garrett Lawrence.

“That’s about it for the dog and pony show,” he said switching off the tape and turning to her in the black swivel chair.

There was that nice smile again.

“Very nice,” she said in her best, I-don’t-impress-easily voice.

His smile didn’t waver. She’s a tough one.

“How long do you think our, I mean the documentary project will take to complete?”

Oh, I heard that one. You’re not as cool as you’d like me to think. “Hmm. If we get started within the next week, hopefully before Christmas.”

“Christmas! But I need—I mean, why will it take so long? The whole point in my agreeing was to…get this over and done with as quickly as possible. I don’t want your filming to interrupt the girls’ holidays.” She’d be damned if she’d tell him that Chances Are was in financial trouble and it needed this documentary to appeal to funders.

“Is interrupting the holidays another no-no that you forgot to mention?” He hated the holiday season. It always reminded him of what he’d never had. So he always made it a point of working right through them. Kept his mind off himself. After so many years he rarely thought of what it meant to others and didn’t care to know.

Her eyes widened and she was just about to open her mouth when Garrett held up his hand. “Listen, like I said before, the whole process takes time. We both want a great piece of work. Now I can come in and do something half-assed—excuse me, I mean—-no, that’s exactly what I mean.” His eyes narrowed. “Or I can do what I know I can do—a fantastic job that everyone can be proud of. It’s your choice.”

He leaned back in his seat, angled his head to the right and folded his arms.

Three months, she thought. That would barely give her enough time to resubmit any proposal before the end of the year. And then an idea began to emerge.

“Mr. Lawrence, how successful are those PSA things?”

He shrugged. “They get people’s attention if they’re positioned right. Some of my clients swear by them.”

“Do you think you could do some for me—for Chances Are while you work on the documentary?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not.”

She blew out a sigh of relief. Maybe she could get Terri to work out a publicity plan and use the PSA along with it. “When can we get started?”

Her excitement over the possibility sparkled in her eyes, Garrett noticed. “Whenever you’re ready.” He shrugged. “Tomorrow?”

She laughed. “How about next week?”

He liked the way she laughed, soft, but from deep inside. “Next week is fine. I’ll check our schedule before you leave and give you a date. Do you want to do it here or at your place?”

She knew what he was asking, but the question still sounded so provocative. “What do you think would be best?”

“We can do one of each. And a combination of both.” He grinned, slow and easy.

Her heart fluttered. “Great.”

“But in the meantime, fair is fair, Ms. Williams. I showed you mine, when will you show me yours?”

Oh, these word games. The corner of her mouth curved up. “Call my office in the morning. I’ll make arrangements.”

“I’ll do that.” His gaze held hers.

She took a breath. “I’d better be going.”

He took her coat from her arm and helped her to put it on.

She could have sworn he was standing a bit too close, especially when she felt his warm breath run along the back of her neck.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

“I’ll walk you out.”

When they reached the front door, she turned to him. “Thank you for a very informative afternoon.”

“No problem.”

They stood there looking at each other seeming not to know what to do next.

Dione swallowed. “I’ll expect your call in the morning.”

“First thing. But until then, don’t keep me in suspense. Who’s going to be your on-air personality for the PSA?”

She smiled. “Me.”

His gaze rolled over her then back up to her eyes. The right corner of his mouth curved and his eyebrows arched. “Ever been in front of a camera before, Ms. Williams?”

“No. But I’m certain you’ll make sure it doesn’t look that way.” She turned and walked toward her car.

“It will be my pleasure,” he whispered, as he watched her slip behind the steering wheel. “It certainly will.”

Chapter 5

Dione arrived at work the following morning before anyone in the house had even gotten up for the day. It was barely seven-thirty and she’d been through the building twice. Checking. She wanted to be sure that everything was in place, that Garrett Lawrence could find no fault with her domain. She couldn’t put on a sideshow the way he had done, but she could certainly show him that she ran her facility with the same amount of care and attention to detail that he did. To her, finding fault with Chances Are was like finding fault with her. And for reasons that she didn’t want to admit, it mattered more than usual that Garrett Lawrence saw nothing but perfection.

When the phone rang at seven forty-five, her heart jumped. She picked up on the second ring.

“Good morning. Chances Are. Ms. Williams speaking.”

“Good morning.” He was pleasantly surprised to hear her voice. He hadn’t expected her to be there. Did she live there, too? “Hope I’m not calling too early. But I’m an early riser. This is Garrett Lawrence.”

There was no need for him to identify himself. She’d heard that voice of his in her dreams. “Not at all. I’ve been here for a while.”

Answers that question. “Just calling to confirm about today—for the visit. I thought about ten. If that’s good for you.”

“Ten is fine. Things should be calmed down by then.”

“Calmed down?”

She laughed lightly. “What I mean is, chaos reigns supreme from about seven-thirty to nine, when everyone is rushing around trying to get ready for school, or work and getting the children that stay on-site down to childcare.”

He frowned. “They go to school and work?” the incongruity of the idea momentarily stumbling his thinking.

She heard the disbelief in his voice and although she was used to it in most others, in Garrett she was disappointed.

“Of course. That’s just one of the many criteria we have for the girls staying here.”

“Hmm.”

He almost sounded as if he thought she were lying. Now she really was annoyed. “Is there a problem, Mr. Lawrence?” she asked, snapping him to attention.

“No. Not at all.”

“Then I’ll see you at ten.”

“Yes. Definitely.”

“Goodbye.” She hung up the phone, then stared at it for a few minutes. “I know what you’re thinking, Mr. Lawrence. Well your thoughts are just about to be changed.”

“I thought I heard somebody moving around. What in the world are you doing here so early?” Betsy shuffled into the room, still dressed in her nightgown and robe.

“I had a lot I wanted to get out of the way before everyone was up and about.”

“Mmm. It must have kept you up last night to get you in here this early.” She yawned. “Anything I can help you with?”

“No. But I just want to let you know that the producer will be here today to take a tour of the building.”

Betsy straightened, fully awake. “Why didn’t you say so? I got to get these lazy girls up and together. Make sure their apartments are up to par. You know how they can leave their places sometime when they run outta here in the morning.”

“Maybe you can select one or two apartments for the visit and just let those girls know.”

Betsy nodded. “That’ll be easier. Kisha usually keeps a neat place, and Theresa.”

“Perfect. And it’ll be good for Theresa. Make her feel she’s a part of things.”

“I’ll get them up right now and let them know.” She turned away, then stopped. “So what’s this man like?”

“Seems to know what he’s doing.”

“I sure hope so,” she mumbled, moving away. “For these girls’ sake. I sure do.”

Dione blew out a breath. “So do I,” she whispered, even as the memory of the tingle of his touch raised the hair on the back of her neck.

By the time Brenda arrived at eight, the building was virtually vibrating with energy. She could hear excited voices and footsteps darting across the hall above her head, and spotted several girls dashing up the staircase. She walked into the office while pulling off her coat, surprised to see Dione.

“Morning. What’s going on? Feels like electric wires running through here. Betsy on another surprise inspection tear again?” She slid open the closet door, hung up her coat and sat down at her totally organized desk. She shifted her pencil cup to the center of the desk.

Dione smiled. “Something like that. Garrett Lawrence is stopping by this morning to take a tour. I wanted to make sure that everything was in order. He’ll be taking a look at Kisha’s and Theresa’s apartments.”

Brenda immediately noticed that Dione wouldn’t look at her while she was talking, something very unusual for Dee. Brenda swiveled her chair fully in Dione’s direction.

“So, the meeting went well.”

“I think so.” She shuffled some papers on the desk. “While I was there they were shooting a public service announcement for another organization. Mr. Lawrence said they work pretty well in getting attention. So I thought that we could do one and give it to my friend Terri, let her work up a promotional package for us.”

“Sounds good to me. But what about the documentary?”

Dione explained about the length of time it would take to complete and her anxiety about not having enough time to resubmit the proposals.

Brenda blew out a breath and slowly shook her head of spiral curls. “If it’s not one thing it’s something else. But at least we’ll have a shot with this public service thing.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.”

Brenda looked at Dione’s profile for a long moment, assessing the faraway look in her expression. Although they weren’t what you would call best friends, and didn’t share a lot of personal secrets, she felt she knew Dione well enough to sense when something was troubling her. But Dione had always been so self-contained, in control and focused. She seemed to have her life totally together. And even in the three years that she’d been working at Chances Are, Dione never shared her life story or why she decided to open the house. No more had ever been said beyond, “It’s something I felt compelled to do. Someone had to do it.”

Dione Williams was a private person. No one seemed to really know what drove her. What gave her the determination and drive. Maybe that’s just the way she was. But Brenda had serious doubts that it was that simple. Something pushed Dione Williams. Whatever it was, it had one helluva hold on her.

“What time is this guy coming?”

“Ten.” She fidgeted with the collar of her camel-colored silk blouse, then suddenly stood. “I’m going to check with Betsy. See how she’s making out with the girls. It’s time for day care to open.”

Brenda watched her walk out and wondered again what was stirring beneath the cool-watered surface.

For the third time that morning, Dione inspected her building from top to bottom, finally stopping in the basement where day care was in full swing. Sesame Street was playing from the small, portable television, the soft scent of baby powder and sweet formula filled the air.

Betsy looked up from changing the diaper of one of the toddlers, seeing Dione standing in the doorway. Betsy set the baby boy down on the floor, gave him a light tap on his bottom and crossed the pale blue floor. She stopped directly in front of Dione, the top of her graying head just reaching Dione’s chin. She stroked her cheek.

“What’s wrong, chile? You got that haunted look in your eyes like when you was worrying over one thing or the other. Or about that baby girl of yours.”

Dione forced a tight-lipped smile. “Just want to make sure everything is okay.” She looked over Betsy’s head, her eyes scanning the room.

“Of course everything is okay. Now, you want to tell me what’s really bothering you, Dione Williams?”

Dione met Betsy’s eyes. “I don’t want them to find any fault. We need this thing to work Betsy.” The little Betsy did know about their situation was enough. She didn’t want to tell her just how desperate things were. That she hadn’t taken a paycheck in more than a month, that she stayed up nights working and reworking the figures to make sure that the bills and the staff were paid, that the politicians were no longer interested in the plight of homeless young mothers, they had new agendas. How could she tell this to the woman whom she’d silently pledged to take care of?

“Of course it will. You just need to have a little faith.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Did you make out okay with Kisha and Theresa?”

Betsy waved her hand in dismissal. “Those two were so excited, I almost couldn’t get them out of here for school and Theresa off to that special reading test.”

Dione smiled, then checked her watch. “I’d better get upstairs.” She turned to go.

“I know something’s bothering you, Dione,” Betsy said, halting Dione’s exit. “Let it go. Everything will work out. Always has.”

Dione nodded, wanting to believe. But it had always been hard for her to have blind faith, ceaseless hope. She couldn’t depend on the intangible things—things she couldn’t see, couldn’t touch. Hopes and dreams dissolved, like mist burned off after the morning sunrise. She couldn’t trust emotion, only reality. Emotion got you in trouble. Made you stop thinking with your head. She couldn’t afford that. Emotion had cost her once, she couldn’t let it cost her again. Especially now.

Garrett slowed to a stop in front of the building and checked the address against the one written on the slip of paper. Frowning, he leaned closer to the passenger window and checked again. His gaze ran up and down the well-kept brownstone, the curtains and blinds that lined the oversized windows.

This couldn’t be the place. Maybe he’d gotten the address wrong. But he was pretty sure he hadn’t. This was a shelter? His vision of a shelter was nothing like what was in front of him. Probably just a front, he concluded. They couldn’t very well have an eyesore in the center of this middle-class neighborhood. He was certain the inside would meet his expectations.

He shut off the car, took his portfolio from the passenger seat and got out.

By the time Dione reached the main floor, she spotted Garrett through the glass-and-oak door, and was once again seized with a gentle wave of caressing heat, her earlier frustration soothed and massaged away.

She took a breath and unlocked the door, putting on her best, happy-to-see-you smile.

“Right on time,” she greeted, stepping aside to let him pass. She caught a whiff of his cologne.

“That’s just one of my many attributes.” He gave her that dimpled smile and tugged off his Chicago Bulls baseball cap.

For a moment their gazes connected and Dione had the strangest feeling that he wasn’t talking about his filming talents.

Chapter 6

Garrett followed Dione into the corridor, taking surreptitious glances around the interior, only to discover that the inside, at least as much of it as he could see, lived up to the outside.

But it was Dione who caught and commanded his attention. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since they’d met. He seemed to be able to hear the hushed timbre of her voice in his dreams. Her scent, so soft, subtle, yet intoxicating had stayed with him seeping into his pores. And now, the whisper of her stockings brushing against her long legs as she walked, the click of her heels and the gentle wave of her hips seemed to have him mesmerized. Why? He’d seen and been with plenty of women. What was it about her that intrigued him, sparked his curiosity?

“Let me take you to meet Brenda Frazier,” she said, interrupting his meandering thoughts.

He blinked, bringing reality back into focus. He was in a well-kept building in a decent neighborhood, that appeared to be efficiently run. But the bottom line was, no matter what it looked like, no matter what window dressing you put on it, all it was, all it could ever be was a shelter for irresponsible girls and their illegitimate children. He had to remember that. Looks were deceiving.

He frowned as the old pain twisted in his chest. Did he really want this grant so badly that he was willing to deal with all the memories and the hurt that was certain to come with it? Maybe he should just let Jason take over the project.

“Brenda Frazier, this is Garrett Lawrence. Ms. Frazier is the assistant director of the facility.”

Assistant director. Hmm. They’d thought she was just a pesky secretary, stonewalling them. If she was on a par with other assistant directors, she had some pull, some say-so about things. And from the no-nonsense look in her eyes, she was not one to be fooled with. You wanted her on your side.

Brenda came from behind her desk and extended her hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“So you’re the face behind the voice.”

Brenda’s smile was slow, almost wary. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

“Absolutely,” he grinned, flashing those dimples.

He turned toward Dione. “Ready for that tour?”

“We can start downstairs.”

Dione took him down to day care, which doubled as their meeting room, which was full of the sounds of active children running, playing and wailing for attention. It took all Dione had not to burst out laughing when she introduced him to Betsy who all but batted her eyes at him. After a brief show-and-tell of the uses for the huge basement space, they went upstairs and he took a quick peek at Kisha’s and Theresa’s apartments.

“Are all the apartments like this?” he asked having a hard time believing that this was the type of environment the girls lived in. He felt like he was on a movie set that had been staged especially for him. Any moment now, someone would call “cut” and they’d take down the props and he’d see the skeletons in the closet.

Dione closed the door to Theresa’s apartment. “Yes.” She laughed lightly and he realized he liked the sound. “Some more well-kept than others, I’m sad to say. But they’re all one bedroom, fully equipped and furnished when the families move in.”

“Pretty lucky.”

Dione snatched his sarcastic tone right out of the air and tossed it back at him. “I wouldn’t call what these girls go through luck, Mr. Lawrence.”

“What would you call it?” he taunted, suddenly feeling combative. “I mean, here they are, all their needs met, free room and board, built-in babysitter. Ha, it’s almost as if they’re being rewarded for going out and getting pregnant.”

Dione’s eyes flared and she could feel the heat of a nasty volley rise up from the pit of her stomach ready to jump up and smack him dead across his self-righteous face. How many times had she done battle with his type of twisted thinking? More times than she cared to count. Some battles she lost, but there were many more that she’d won. Education was the key and Mr. Garrett Lawrence was in serious need of Awakening 101, straight from the head teacher.

“It’s unfortunate that you feel that way, Mr. Lawrence. I would think that as a professional you’d have to go into every new project with an open mind in order to get the most out of it and not have the work tainted by preconceived notions. I’m hopeful that your time with us here will be enlightening.” She took a breath and put on her best smile. “That’s about it for the tour, and I have a ton of work, as I’m sure you do as well. If you’ll let Brenda know what you need for the public service announcement and when we can get started, I’d appreciate that.” She stuck out her hand.

Reluctantly he took it. He was being dismissed. He would have laughed, but it wasn’t funny.

“Thank you for stopping by.” She ushered him toward the door of the main office. “Bren, Mr. Lawrence needs to give you some information.” She flashed him a smile and had an instant of satisfaction from the stunned look on his face. “Have a good day.” She turned and went downstairs.

For a moment he felt as if he’d been sent to sit in the corner. He could barely concentrate on what he needed to tell this woman in front of him for thinking about Dione and her ability to totally detach herself and make him feel two inches tall, and all with a dazzling smile.

“What day did you want to start?”

Garrett finally focused on Brenda’s patient “he’s slow” expression.

“At least by next week. You, or whoever is going to write it, need to write up a sixty-second script. Say whatever you think will get people to stand up and take notice.”

He heard footsteps in the hall and turned his head toward the door, hoping it would be Dione. It wasn’t.

Returning his attention to Brenda, he noticed she’d replaced her “he’s slow” expression with “now you’re getting on my nerves and I’m trying to be nice.”

“I really think I should explain all of this to Ms. Williams. Especially since—”

She cut him right off. “Dione is very busy. I can assure you, Mr. Lawrence I’m quite capable of delivering the information. If she has any questions, she’ll call you.”

Just how many times would he get stung in one day? Did everyone in this place have the knack for putting you in deep check with the arch of a brow, or a turn of a phrase all done with a smile?

He gave her a grin with no teeth, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a white business card. “Here’s my card. My pager number is on there in case she can’t reach me at the studio and my home number is on the back.”

“I’ll be sure she gets it.” She gave the card a cursory glance and put it down on the desk. “Nice meeting you.”

“You, too.” But he wasn’t really sure.

Brenda rose. “I’ll walk you out.”

When they reached the front door, Garrett stopped. “Is it always like this?” he asked, still a bit in awe, his eyes skipping once again over the interior, the smooth pale green walls adorned with inexpensive artwork and the shiny cream-colored linoleum floors.

“Like what?”

“Orderly. Clean. Quiet.”

She chuckled. “We have our moments. Believe me. But for the most part everyone knows what’s expected of them and what will and will not be tolerated. We do have rules, Mr. Lawrence.”

He pressed his lips together and flicked his eyebrows. “Thanks again,” he mumbled and stepped outside.

Dione paced the floor of her office like a caged tigress. It took all she had not to spew an earsplitting scream of frustration. She thought she’d gotten beyond allowing narrow-minded people to get to her. But Garrett Lawrence had sneaked in, passed the guard, and rattled her defenses.

She shouldn’t let his prejudiced attitude affect her. But it had. Deeply. From the moment she’d set eyes on him she’d wanted him to be different. Not like all the others. It was one of the many reasons why she’d avoided intimate relationships in general. Not that she was anticipating an intimate relationship with him, but whenever she met a man he either felt threatened by the time and devotion she gave to her work and the girls under her care, or believed that her talents could be better utilized in corporate America where she could make some real money.

They never understood that for her it was never about money, or about deciding who or what was more important—her work or them. For her it was about survival. And she had yet to meet a man whose passion for what he did came from a place deep inside of himself and the only way to get from one day to the next was to do what he truly believed in.

How could she trust him to honestly project the image of Chances Are if his opinions were so jaded?

She folded her arms beneath her breasts and halted her pacing. She needed this project to work. Chances Are needed this project. A smile of determination inched across her cinnamon-tinted lips.

Everyone who crossed the threshold of her domain slowly began to understand and even absorb the special essence that set it apart from all the rest. Hearts and minds had been changed within these very walls, under this roof. Garrett Lawrence would be a convert if it was the last thing she did.

On the drive back to the studio, Garrett kept thinking about his visit, not so much the shooting possibilities but the entire episode. Reality kept clashing with what he’d believed to be true. The constant butting of heads had thrown him completely off center.

He parked in front of the studio and went in, glad to see that Jason was still in the office. He tossed his battered leather flight jacket, followed by his cap on a vacant chair, then plopped down, stretching his legs out in front of him.

“So let’s hear it. What’s the place like?”

Garrett looked at Jason for a hot minute. The corner of his mouth flinched upward. “Believe me, it’s nothing like I thought.” He looked off toward the empty space, and a vision of Dione materialized before him. “Nothing at all,” he whispered.