Lennie remembered how she exerted great effort in getting her hands on a list of attendees to White House functions so she would form a tactical approach to heads of states, prime ministers, and foreign presidents. However, he felt none of that attentiveness existed in their relationship on any level. Lennie thought Angela saw their pairing as some sort of business transaction she would renege on if any part of it failed. Knowing this hadn’t created an urgent need to leave her, nor had it buffered the pain when she ended the engagement.
He didn’t know how to explain any of that to Sherelle. It pained him to try.
“Would you? Would you have married her had she not broken off the engagement?” Sherelle asked again.
“I’m not sure. I’m just not sure.”
Sherelle and Lennie slumped into a deep silence. They kept a cautious distance until their walk led to a gated area in front of the White House.
“What are we doing here?” Sherelle asked after Lennie showed the security guard his identification.
“You’ll see.”
Once inside, Lennie held Sherelle’s hand and led her through several pristine hallways before they stood before portraits of U.S. presidents. Sherelle loved the bold red and blue and green rooms, exquisite drapes, spacious halls, and marbled floors. She looked in awe at fine china, gazed with much amazement at portraits of first ladies. Lennie opened the door to the White House Briefing Room where Sherelle insisted she be allowed to sit in its theater-like seats and stare at the podium. “It’s smaller than I imagined,” she had said, squirming and pretending to be attentive to a make-believe press secretary.
After the tour, they stood on the Lincoln Memorial steps and decided it was too late to go any farther.
“You liked the tour?” Lennie asked as he descended one step at a time.
“You’re amazing.” Losing herself in the moment, she tiptoed and kissed him. At once she placed her hand over her mouth. “I am so sorry.”
Under the cover of darkness, Lennie shut his eyes and sank under the smell of her perfume and the feel of her lips. He kissed her palm then squeezed it. “I better get you home. It’s getting late.”
As he moved forward, she pulled back. Able to see him in silhouette, she thought about kissing him again, this time with no fear of hearing, feeling, or saying words of love. “Lennie, I want you to know I had a great time. This is probably one of the best days of my life. Thank you.”
Lennie slid his arm around her waist, walked her home, kissed her on the forehead, and whisked away before he broke his vow.
# # #
Off in the distance, wicked streaks of lightning lit the sky. Sherelle heard no thunder, saw no rain. She lay between cool sheets and wondered if she possessed enough strength to juggle romance and a promising career. She couldn’t wrap her arms around this still-nascent longing for Lennie. It was as new to her as skydiving, and she had never gone skydiving a day in her life. She liked Lennie. A lot. But was that enough?
Sherelle remembered the many conversations her co-workers had about courtships and she tried to apply their discussions to her dilemma. Before she knew it, a stark reality put her make-believe romance into a tailspin then it took a nosedive. Like many of her co-workers’ relationships, she and Lennie seemed headed in different directions. No matter how her co-workers’ relationships ended, the reasons were the same—incompatibility. Without warning a chill disturbed every hair follicle on her body.
She and Lennie had nothing in common. He seemed less ambitious. She wondered if there was any truth to that assumption. It didn’t matter. They had other differences that caused concern. For instance, he came from a large family and he seemed anxious to start his own. As an only child, Sherelle spent too many years self-absorbed and ambitious. She sat up and chiseled through her emotions only to discover, like so many their age, Lennie had fallen prey to the idea of marrying before thirty. Next on his agenda—a house filled with children.
Sherelle’s eyes bulged like a hungry dragonfly confused by so much on the menu. She wanted to become managing editor and seemed bent on the idea no matter how disgruntled her co-workers became. In secret, she disregarded the notion to continue sharing duties with David Schiffer. She wanted to build credibility and share that title with no one. To get it, she’d work even longer hours to develop lead stories for The Nation’s News. Pages and pages of notes crammed her briefcase. She had one cabinet filled with pitches she’d organized by subject, along with a few ideas of her own to pursue. Sherelle enjoyed her job and had learned the newspaper business so well people groaned at the mention of her name.
Settling down didn’t appear as a line-item on her career path. She had no room for children or household chores. Sherelle considered the idea of attending office parties or fancy dinners donning as Lennie’s trophy-wife absurd. Before Lennie, she had one goal in mind. Sherelle rolled her eyes then stared at the ceiling. How quick she forgot becoming managing editor took precedence over everything else. If she didn’t ditch these warm fuzzy feelings for Lennie, she’d jeopardize everything she’d worked so hard for. After all, what good was an education if she didn’t use it?
As her temper cooled, it became apparent the temptation to fall in love wasn’t her only obstacle. Sherelle grabbed the cell phone, rubbed it with her thumb and contemplated calling her contact to verify brewing trouble in Europe. Above everything she was a journalist first. Though uncomfortably cool inside her tiny apartment, she wiped her damp brow and defied temptations to be swept off her feet by Lennie or anyone else. With a sudden burst of energy, she pressed “Secret Contact” on her cell phone then paused. Was this her perfect escape from fairy tale endings and romantic fantasies? Never mind that, she thought. She had a job to do and she needed to get on with it.
“Remember, no names,” Sherelle said after making a calculated decision to make the call.
“Alright.”
Lightning crackled and lit the room. Sherelle flinched. “I need you to nose around and see what you can dig up about a possible assassination in Europe.”
“Where in Europe?”
“I have no idea,” Sherelle replied.
“That will be difficult. You can’t narrow it down to a state, city, perhaps a particular country?”
Light drizzle splattered the windowpane.
“That’s all I have. Be careful,” Sherelle warned. “This could be big.”
“Can you say where you got this information?”
“I can never tell. You know that.”
Thunder shook the earth.
Chapter 13
Too weary to put in another hour, Sherelle packed her briefcase and left the office at two p.m. She didn’t want to hear from The Nation’s News unless God had broken his promise and submerged the earth in water for a second time. For the past two weeks, everyone put in extra hours to accommodate those needing time off for next week’s Thanksgiving Holiday.
At home, Sherelle barely kicked off her shoes before rushing to the bathroom to take a shower then crawl into bed. When her landline rang the first time, Sherelle never stirred. Five minutes later, it rang again and she fumbled around for it before pressing it to her ear.
“Hello,” her voice muffled and groggy.
“Sherelle. It’s Lennie.”
Sherelle propped herself on one elbow and rubbed her eyes. “Lennie?”
“I woke you?”
“It’s okay. What time is it?”
“Eight.”
“Eight? I slept six hours?” Sherelle tousled her hair.
“How did you manage to leave work so early?”
“My body couldn’t take anymore.”
“Sherelle, have you thought about the Thanksgiving Holiday? I thought we might have Thanksgiving dinner together. I was thinking we could go out to dinner on Wednesday and maybe cook at my place on Thursday.”
“Ooh, Lennie, I planned to sleep all day. There’s hardly four weeks left in the year and I think we’re t
rying to milk every hour out of them. We’re still working shorthanded. I’d really like to spend my day off resting before I have to face another grueling week.”
Aware of the possibility Sherelle might reject his offer, he still felt disappointed. “Have you eaten?” he asked, holding on to hopes of seeing her.
“Not since eleven this morning.”
“Why don’t I pick up Chinese?”
“That sounds good.”
“I’ll see you in forty-five minutes.”
Sherelle trudged to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and applied a touch of rouge and a thin layer of lipstick. She pinned her hair up then slipped in a pair of sweats and warm socks. Sherelle tugged on the sheets. Good enough. She would only return to bed after she ate dinner anyway. She planned to sleep all day tomorrow, eat vegetables right out the can if she had any in the pantry. Or she would order pizza. Then she would sleep the day and night away.
Not much of a coffee drinker, she filled her only cup with hot water from the faucet then she stared out the bedroom window. The cool November breeze flirted with storefront awnings. Moonlight betrayed everything—empty alleys, vacant cars, bus stops, sidewalks, stray cats. Sherelle saw nothing of significance until her eyes landed on a tan car. Next to it two familiar people stood talking then hugging and kissing below a streetlamp. Fortified with more control than she’d ever imagined, she took a sip of water and watched as the male figure left then returned.
Sherelle rotated the hot cup with her palms. In quiet desperation, she made feeble attempts to meld hurt with anger; disgust with disappointment; hate with longing. She had a harder time, however, reasoning why it felt as though a cruise ship’s anchor had ripped through her chest.
###
Giddy as a school boy, Lennie put on one shoe and hopped around his apartment with the other one halfway on and dragging to the floor. He slipped into his jacket before he thought to brush his teeth and comb his hair. Forget the hair, he thought. He would put on a hat.
After he picked up his to-go order, he rounded the corner on foot. A cream-colored car slowed then stopped in front of him.
“Lennie. Darling. I’ve tried to get in touch with you. Why won’t you pick up?”
Lennie stopped, pushed his head back, and stared at the nocturnal tarp above him. If he could hurl that voice as far away as the stars, he’d feel no remorse. He buried his chin in his chest, breathed deep then turned around. “Angela, haven’t we said all that we needed to say?”
“Why haven’t you called me? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you, but all I get is your voice mail. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were preoccupied with little Miss-What’s-Her-Name.”
“Her name is Sherelle Lindsey.”
“Where did you meet her? Never mind that. I need to see you. I’ve missed you.”
Before Lennie backed away, Angela kissed him. Instead of resisting, Lennie decided to make his point once and for all. He placed the bags on the ground then kissed her long and hard.
“Wow! Why don’t we finish this in your apartment?”
Lennie picked up his dinner. “Angela, I’m not the man you met five years ago. I’ve grown up in ways you couldn’t possibly understand. So, no, you can’t come up, not tonight, tomorrow night, or any other night.”
“Then what was that?” She pointed to her lips.
“I needed to remind you of what you left behind. Goodbye, Angela.” He walked away, but returned and stood toe-to-toe with her. “So you don’t lose any sleep at night, there’s something else I want you to know. I never loved you.” All of a sudden, Lennie felt as if a burden had lifted. He started to walk away again, but stopped and looked over his shoulder, unable to resist one last stab at revenge. “How did you put it, Angela? ‘We’re just not compatible,’” he said, mocking her. “You were right. We aren’t compatible. Thanks for helping me see that.”
###
Lennie took a deep breath before he rang Sherelle’s doorbell, rubbing his lips to make sure he’d remove all traces of lipstick. He pressed the doorbell at the precise moment he noticed Angela’s perfume had settled in his jacket.
“Aaah, food!” Sherelle grabbed the bags and sat them in the middle of the floor. Lennie remained at the door, his arms outstretched with curled fingers still serving as hangers for their meal.
“No, ‘hello you. Nice to see you. Thank you for the food, sir.’” Lennie twitched his body in different directions in a poor rendition of a mime.
Sherelle laughed then waved him inside. “Come on in. I have no furniture so we’ll have to sit on the floor. I’ll get you something to drink.” She paused. “Rats! I don’t have anything to drink.”
“Drinks are in the bags.” He took off his jacket and laid it on the floor.
“Lennie, I owe you big time.”
“I had to eat, too. How’s the job?” Lennie split the meal in half. “I have Coke and sweet iced tea.” Sherelle grabbed the Coke.
“The job is fine. I’m investigating a superintendent accused of pilfering funds from the school district. The local stuff is usually not my area, but it’s a nice change. I’m working ten to twelve-hour days . . . sometimes fourteen. Other than that, it’s more of the same.”
“Sherelle, what are you chasing? A title?”
“I know I’m too ambitious for my own good. What about you?”
“Same as you, but not for the same reasons.”
“Then what’s the point?” Sherelle leaned back and dropped a noodle in her mouth.
“Although I’ve barely been on the job a year, my career is solid. Promotions come in time. I don’t need to sit around stressing about it. And unless America tanks, my retirement is on track. I just need someone to share it with.”
“Well, I’m not ready to settle down,” she said as she bit into a tuna roll. “Becoming a wife would stretch me too thin. Motherhood would scare me. I can hardly keep my apartment clean and groceries in the refrigerator. I don’t know if I could juggle a kid, a career, and a husband.” Sherelle groaned. “My mother would be upset if she saw this place.”
Lennie looked at the rumpled bed linen, clothes stacked knee high along the wall, takeout boxes and trash stacked in a corner. “Maybe I should give her a call.” Lennie winked.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Now that I know it means that much to you, yes I would.”
Sherelle wiped her hands on a napkin then tossed the napkin at him. “How much do I owe you?”
“It’s on me.”
“I’m not allowing you to buy dinner. You’ve taken care of the bill three times. Not this time.” Sherelle grabbed her handbag, pulled out a twenty, stuffed it in his upper jacket pocket then patted his chest. “There you go.” She held her breath until she turned away from the disgusting fumes.
“So, why can’t we have Thanksgiving dinner next week?”
Sherelle stopped in the middle of placing an Edamame bean pod in her mouth. After what she saw, she couldn’t believe he would ask such a thing. He claimed he never loved Angela, yet how could she dismiss the affection displayed outside her window? Whatever their relationship, Sherelle thought he needed time to redefine it, rekindle it, or perhaps take one of his dates on this joy ride while he handled it. As far as she was concerned, she was done with it.
Sherelle had a sudden urge to shave his sexy goatee clean and fill that cute little dimple of his with rice. She wanted to burn his ears with a torrent of hateful lectures, give him back his food, turn him around, and push him right out the door.
“It just can’t happen,” she said between clenched teeth.
“Why not?”
She tossed the bean pod in the trash. “Lennie, I saw you and Angela moments ago.”
“What? How?” He looked toward her bed then over at the window. “I need to explain. What you saw was deceiving,” he said, pointing behind him.
“You should’ve leveled with me. You’re still in love with h
er. But look, you don’t have to explain it to me. You don’t owe me anything.”
“Yes I do. You’re important to me and—”
“No, I’m not,” she snapped. “We hardly know each other. Besides,” she chuckled, “I’m much too busy to contemplate marriage and a family and be on this wild goose chase you call love. I’m not sure I ever want those things. I think Angela did us both a huge favor. You get what you want. And I can move forward with no distractions. You couldn’t ask for a better outcome than that.”
“Sherelle, what you saw out there wasn’t what it seemed. Just listen to me for a minute.”
“Lennie, you’re taking this all wrong. You talk as if I might care. Come now. You saved my life and I’m grateful. But that doesn’t mean we have to fall in love. Or date. Or ever see each other again. I’m happy for you. Honest. It’s obvious you and Angela still have things to work out.” Sherelle stood, jammed fists against her hips, and nodded toward the door. “You better go. And you must do a better job of wiping that disgusting lipstick off your mouth. Couldn’t she wear any other color besides red? And please buy her better perfume. The cheap stuff stinks.”
“Sherelle—” Lennie began as he continued rubbing his mouth.
“Just go. Please. Go!”
Chapter 14
Downcast, Lennie didn’t think his night could get any worse. He fell back on his couch and considered why he didn’t walk away—no, run—after he heard Angela’s voice. In the span of two hours, he had gone from longing, to happy, to utter disappointment. He closed his eyes and fretted over the possibility Sherelle spoke truth. They had no obligation to fall in love, or date, or ever see each other again.
Lennie asked himself if he’d ever win Sherelle’s heart. No, he thought, he’d misread too many mixed messages and ignored a number of red flags in the process. To fall in love with a woman who’d destroyed the nuts and bolts of his existence had disaster written all over it. He should’ve aborted the idea of a future with her a long time ago. He knew that now. She’d nearly got him killed in Cairo—his first red flag. She had ruined his chances of ever navigating a fixed wing—his second red flag. And he got all tongue-tied and breathless whenever she came near—his third red flag. Subtract Sherelle from the equation and he’d still be sitting inside an Apache firing at enemy targets, or hovering over dangerous terrain in a Kiowa OH-58D. Maybe he'd maneuver through a hot muggy jungle and hurl hostages to safety. Certain of one thing, he’d not sit here and sulk over a woman for a second time in four years.