Title Page
Teaser
Dedication
Dear New Friends
Laugh a lot
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
EPILOGUE
AUTHOR'S NOTE
About the author
Copyright
Excerpt for When It Doesn't Hurt
Love Song
By
Patricia Gray
Stop blaming yourself.
Michael was an idiot. He messed up, not you. It makes me sick to think about what he did to you, but I won’t let you bring him to bed with us. Get him out of your head and focus on the man standing here with you now. When you open your eyes in the morning, I’ll be here. You’ll never wake up in the middle of the night and wonder where I am. I’ll be in your bed, next to you. If you want me, we will make love every night and wake up holding each other every morning for the rest of our lives.”
The torment in Jason’s deep voice raked across Daniella’s heart. His light swept into her darkness exposing the self-serving pity she had wallowed in for two years. Even as tears gathered in her eyes, her heart felt lighter because of his promises. “I’m afraid, Jason.”
Patience was everything with Daniella. Instead of pushing, Jason waited. When she looked up, his eyes were fixed on her reflection in the mirror. She leaned her head back to rest on his shoulder, took a deep breath, and smiled. Taking that simple action as the sign he’d been waiting for, Jason bent close to her ear and said, “You’re afraid. So am I. If I mess up, I’ll lose you forever.”
“I don’t want….”
Jason turned Daniella to face him and pressed a finger to her lips. “Babe, you talk too much. From now on, one word answers.” He kissed her forehead and the sensitive area behind her ear. Replacing his finger with his lips, he whispered, “Do you want me?”
“Yes.”
Dedication
I dedicate this book with love
to my husband.
Thank you for looking beyond my faults
and accepting who I am.
And,
To my children who love me unconditionally,
as I do them.
Dear New Friends
Before you meet the residents, you should know the history of the very special place where they live. The small town, originally called South Creek, near where the Patuxent River empties into the Chesapeake Bay, was originally a tobacco plantation owned by Chester Danvers. Local farmers had shipped their bounty from the small harbor on his property.
Chester was the third generation to live in the big house. He married late in life to a woman who became ill a few years later and never recovered. She never gave birth to an heir. After her death, he didn’t remarried. His only child, Jacob, was the son of the mulatto slave woman who had nursed his wife through her long and painful illness.
Because of the mother's light complexion, Jacob had skin the color of his father’s. Chester claimed that during her illness, his wife gave birth to the child. He and Jacob’s mother were the only people allowed to see his wife in the last months of her illness. After she died, there was no one to dispute his claim. When the slave’s child was born, the midwife declared it stillborn. In exchange for her silence, the midwife was given her freedom and passage north. Chester educated Jacob and trained him in the business of import, export, and growing tobacco.
By the time there was talk of war between the north and south, Chester had become ill. To help his son hold on to their property in the event someone uncovered their secret, he went north to legally claim Jacob as his son and file a deed to his plantation in Jacob’s name. For safekeeping, he sent the papers to his barrister in England. Even though Maryland was not a confederate state, Chester feared that because Marylanders owned slaves, his homeland would not fare well if there was a war. He liquidated as much of his wealth as possible, bought gold and silver and gave it to his son. Jacob was to use it to repurchase the land after the war. Chester warned Jacob keep the money they had buried beneath the floorboards of his mother’s cabin hidden until well after the war was over.
About the time of the attack on Fort Sumter, Chester became bedridden. On his deathbed, Chester reveled the identity of his mother and warned Jacob of the repercussions should he tell anyone. Chester also freed all his slaves. Most of whom remained on the plantation because they had nowhere to go and most importantly, Jacob had promised them they could earn a living on his land.
So she could live out her life with less treat of the impending war, Jacob sent his mother to New York to live with the old midwife who had kept their secret. While the north and south fought, he worked the land, fished in the river, and prayed that the fighting would soon end. Mercifully, the war passed by Sweet Rose Landing leaving his land relatively unscathed.
While the politicians divvied up the spoils of war, lied, cheated, and ignored the freed men of the south, Jacob went about his life knowing the day would come when Union soldiers or carpetbaggers would descend upon his home. When they arrived, they saw a huge Union flag waving from the front porch of a white landowner. Jacob presented the proof that he was Chester’s son, the deed to the land, and papers declaring that the people who still worked his land were free and they were wage earners. Against the odds, the farm remained in tact and in his name.
After the war, Jacob married a woman he met while visiting his mother in New York. Her name was Rose. Her complexion was as light as his, so they were able to continue the charade that had begun with his birth. Jacob loved Rose almost to distraction. He renamed the harbor Sweet Rose Landing because it seemed that everywhere his wife stepped, sweet-smelling roses grew. She planted roses everywhere she found unused land.
Rose encouraged Jacob to share his land with the men and women who had worked in the fields and made it profitable. Jacob believed that sharecropping was slavery without and overseer. On paper, it appeared that the ex-slaves were laborers. He refused to have men saddled to his land until death to repay debts they had not incurred. Instead of paying for the land, the farmers gave Jacob a percentage of the profits from their crops each year until the debt was paid. At which time, Jacob inconspicuously titled the land to them. Many of the men and women were already married. Owning land was an incentive for others to jump the broom with one of the women who had worked alongside them in the fields as slaves. With Rose’s kindness and Jacob’s generosity, they all made a fair living and had many children.
Jacob and Rose did not hide the truth of their lineage from their three sons and two daughters. All but one of the children understood the reason their parents had hidden their race, but refused to continue the farce. They were the grandchildren of slaves and four of them married within their small community. By the turn of the century, every Danvers in Sweet Rose Landing had brown skin. When he was old enough, the youngest son left Sweet Rose and did not return.
In the early 1900’s, Jacob’s grandchildren sold most of their land to developers who built vacation homes for people of color. The vacationers eventually became full-time residents. Some of the newcomers opened shops on the waterfront. The town was self-sustaining for many years.
What was once a rural community became a small town of shop owners, dockworkers, fisherman, city employees, teachers, dentist, doctors, nurses, plumbers, electricians, maids, and groundskeepers. It was a small town just thirty minutes from the District of Columbia. Aside from the expensive waterfront mansions and the old plantation house, the homes in Sweet Rose were mixture of modest cape cods, bungalows, colonials, and craftsman style homes. Most families had lived there for many generations. Some young people moved away. Almost as many returned with spouses and children.
In the mid 1960’s, the county built a two-lane parkway that divided the town into two separate neighborhoods, North and South Sweet Rose Landing. Because it was too dangerous, the children never crossed on foot and rarely ventured to their sister neighborhood.
In Love Song, you’ll meet the first of many residents of Sweet Rose Landing. Daniella Christopher, who grew up on the north side and Jason Adams, who lived on the south side. Daniella had never noticed Jason. But then she was a daydreamer who didn’t notice much of anything outside her private world. That was not the case for Jason, however. He had watched Daniella from afar for months. For him, it had been love at first sight. But because he was three years older than she and on his way to an out-of-state university, he never approached her. When Jason returned home after college and four years in military, Daniella had left Sweet Rose Landing. They found each other eight hundred miles from home. This story is about the problems that became thick walls blocking their paths to each other and the road back home.
Oh, by the way, there’s something special about Sweet Rose Landing. Those who leave usually return. Visitors tend to stay. Maybe you will as well.
Patricia Gray
Laugh a lot.
Regrets are free, but never worth it.
Find your rose-colored glasses. Everyone has a pair.
ONE
Large calloused fingers spread across her back. They continued over every curve, hill, and valley of her body. His touch, rough against her skin, left her keening and wanting. Warm lips followed the path of his hands between her breast and down to her navel. She squirmed when his hot tongue made gentle circles on her belly. Austin’s thick blunt tipped finger drew a long hungry moan from deep inside her. Like a puppet on a string, her hips rose from the bed and followed his lead. When his mouth opened over her…
Daniella slammed the book shut and tossed it on a chair to far away to retrieve from where she was lying in her bed. Why did I take Austin to bed with me?
It didn’t take long before Daniella began the nightly ritual of feeling sorry for herself. Her head rested on a fluffy down-filled pillow while she focused on the shadowy ceiling above as if it were a movie screen—the previous year playing out in her mind’s eye for the gazillionth time. Rory Tanner, her friend and self-appointed life coach, had warned her adamantly not to go to a jazz club on a first date. She’d told Daniella that a glass of wine and a love song were part of a man’s arsenal. They help entice a woman to take a voyage she might not return from. While women rummaged through a man’s enchanting words in search of the truth, soft notes from a piano or saxophone seep pass her defenses. Delicate violin strings or the gentle strumming of a guitar sweeten the atmosphere. A velvety melody whispering sweet promises closed her mind to the voice of reason.
Some women understood that forever is only a mirage; an illusion painted by a master. Not Daniella. Before one finger touched her, she should have asked, “Where is your woman?” She hadn’t. Before he took her on the dance floor and cocooned her in his arms, she should have asked, “What are your intentions?” She hadn’t. The first time he held her close and swayed to the music, he took her out to sea on a perilous voyage. Before she thought to ask, the most important question had already been answered. “Will you hurt me?”
The answer was a soul-torturing yes.
Daniella was a dreamer—a sensual being. Every touch, sound, taste, and scent had meaning for her. Her days were clouded with emotions. Most of the time, she was able to push the things that hurt her to the deepest darkest recesses of her mind. Sweet music floated in her head like a mystic fog obstructing the passage between her dream world and reality. Love songs were in her head every minute of every waking hour. Since she woke to her personal radio, she figured the music didn’t stop even when she was asleep. The romantic ballads drowned out logic and common sense. If she had been a songwriter, she would have been wealthy.
Not one to let a little pain get in the way, as soon as Daniella recovered from one attempted murder of her heart, she climbed aboard another ship. Michael Stone, the new ship's captain, had a speaking voice that made her heart flutter. She had known right a way that he was a singer. From the first whisper of Michael’s sultry voice, Daniella was a goner. His mesmerizing eyes and laugh were just the beginning. His touch had made her tingle and his kiss…oh, that kiss was the most incredible thing she had ever experienced. By the time he’d crooned the first notes of a love song, she was his for the taking. Daniella had needed love so badly she had followed Michael down the aisle like he was the Pied Piper.
Her husband was the pretty package Daniella’s mama had warned her and her sisters not to open. Mae Christopher had told her daughters, “Sometimes what’s on the inside is very ugly. A handsome face and pretty words can make you do stupid things. Your vision clouds, you see love where there isn’t any. Even when he’s cold and loveless, you will see his hatefulness and betrayal as your failure as a wife. Not all handsome men are heartless, but you can’t let your eyes choose. An artificial flower is beautiful until you touch it.”
Mae had described Michael perfectly. When Daniella was with him, she was a scatterbrain in the true sense of the word. His piercing eyes and bright smile were like a lighthouse in the fog. By the time her brain screamed stupid, stupid, stupid, it was too late.
Daniella fast-forwarded to the three hundred, sixty-fifth day after her wedding. She was dancing around her kitchen and humming along to an old Smokey Robinson song while adding chunks of beef to a pot. Cooking wasn’t a skill she had mastered, but she tried. In the first months of their marriage, Michael hadn’t minded that she couldn’t cook. Later, he pointed out her ineptness in the kitchen and the bedroom as if she were the soul problem. On most days, Daniella pulled out her cookbook and prepared meals with some success. The bedroom was a different matter. As hard as she tried, she could not fix that problem.
Because the day was special, she had hoped she was up to the challenged of satisfying Michael at least in the kitchen if not in the bed. She said a prayer and made a whole-hearted attempt to prepare his favorite meal. White China dishes, silver flatware, and wine glasses with Daniella and Michael engraved on them adorned the table. The wedding gifts had never been used. She and Michael were rarely home to enjoy a meal together. If there was ever a time to use the gifts, it was on their anniversary. On a white linen tablecloth was a crystal vase with blue and yellow flowers. Two tapers in silver candleholders completed the setting. A gift box wrapped in gold paper was on Michael’s chair. Inside was a very expensive watch. She’d wanted to give him something more personal, but realized she didn’t really know her husband. He hadn’t talked about himself much. Nor had he introduced her to family or anyone who knew him well.
Michael’s singing appearances had kept him away for almost a month. Daniella couldn’t complain because she was just as busy with her clients at the production company. Neither had taken the time to plan anything special. Michael would be tired from his trip, but she hoped he would appreciate her efforts. Guessing which Michael would show up was a task in itself. Some times, a stranger would step over the threshold. Other times, he was cordial. Occasionally, he would be something close to a husband.
Daniella didn’t want to think that it might not matter that she had planned something special to commemorate their union. Michael didn’t love her. He never had. She did everything she could to show her love in hopes that he would someday feel the same. He didn’t, so she stopped deluding herself.
Michael was heartless when it came to her feelings. On the few occasions he invited Daniella to his performances, it was obvious that every woman listening to his hypnotic voice was imagining him making love to them. The bold ones handed him their numbers while she watched. Without regard for her, he took them.
In public, they were perfect. In private, she was miserable. She couldn’t love Michael enough to fill the emptiness. He didn’t love her enough to care. For a year, Daniella did every thing possible to make Michael happy. He hadn’t spent one minute—day or night, trying to satisfy her. She had prayed that someday he’d open his eyes and see how much she loved him.
If Michael showed the slightest appreciation for her efforts to make their anniversary special, her efforts wouldn’t be in vain. Deep down, she knew it would be a miracle if Michael even came home. Even if he remembered, he wouldn’t care.
Daniella sighed and did a quick scan of the room to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. Satisfied that everything was perfect, she headed upstairs to shower and change. As she passed Michael’s office, the phone rang. The line was for business only, so she never answered it. His office was unofficially off-limits. The phone was on the other side of an invisible barrier. Michael hadn’t told her not to enter, but his actions spoke volumes. Because she wasn’t welcome in his space, she paused at the entrance to his forbidden realm. The answering machine would pick up. Michael used a recorder instead of the phone company’s service that she could get access from any phone in the house. Daniella turned to continue upstairs, but was stopped by the voice of someone she had prayed didn't exist—the other woman.
“Hi, Mike. It’s Mandy. I hope your wife doesn’t check this message. You say she’s empty-headed, but it’s hard to believe a man like you married a woman that naïve and simpleminded. Anyway, for your enjoyment, I’m wearing something see through, lacy, and red. Hurry back.”
Daniella’s chest tightened so hard, she thought her bones would break. Mandy was Michael’s agent. She traveled everywhere with him. That should have been her first clue. Three things had been very wrong. Why would Michael cheat on her so early in their marriage? When did Michael’s sexual prowess improve? His lovemaking had never made Daniella want him the way Mandy seemed to. Lastly and what hurt the most, Michael had told his mistress that she was empty-headed. Why would he say something like that? Daniella thought she might be gullible, but not stupid.
That phone call had been the final straw. To prove, even if only to herself, that she wasn’t an idiot, Daniella lumbered up the stairs to Michael’s bedroom and packed everything she could carry. Her brain knew Michael was sleeping with other women. Her heart had been delusional. Instead of leaving long ago, she had told herself that she hadn’t any evidence. Whether she wanted proof or not, she had it. For months, she had closed her eyes to Michael’s philandering and her ears to everyone who had hinted that she was wearing blinders. It wasn’t as if Michael was subtle. The few times he had taken her to clubs with him, he never once introduced Daniella as his wife. She hadn’t wanted to see the truth because it meant she had failed to make him happy.
While she packed, Daniella called her youngest sister to warn her that she would be on her doorstep soon.
Alena's answered on the first ring.
“I’m moving back into the apartment.” Daniella said without preface and with as much bravado as possible.
“About time.”
said with ‘I told you so’ hanging in the air.
“I called the club. He left four days ago. He told me that he was held over two more days and that he would be home today. I guess he's cheating on his mistress as well. She’s looking for him too.”
Daniella disconnected before her outspoken sister had time to say what was on her mind. Then she pushed two on the speed dial.
“Yesss…” Barbara’s voice trailed off as if expecting bad news.
“You and possibly everyone in the civilized world were right. I’m leaving Michael.”
“You want to talk about it?” Barbara asked.
Daniella loved that her older sister didn’t have a negative bone in her body. “When I grow up, I want to be just like you. And I want my own Raymond.”
“Compliment noted and excepted.” Barbara’s husband said in the background.
Daniella heard the laughter in his voice. “Bobbi, you have me on the speaker. From now on, I’ll ask before I talk.” Daniella said.
Barbara giggled. “Raymond and I don’t keep secrets. You’ll understand when you find a man with nothing to hide.”
That certainly wasn’t Michael. He had more secrets than the night sky had stars. Daniella frowned when she heard kissing sounds. “Stop that. I’m still here.”
Barbara and Raymond laughed. Daniella chuckled too. While she was on her way to being single and depressed instead of married and depressed, she was happy that Barbara and Raymond had the kind of love that inspired lyricist.
Daniella disconnected. After a few seconds, she pressed one on the speed dial.
“What do you want, Danni?”
Either she had awakened Michael from a sound sleep or he was very busy discussing important matters with his agent. “Where are you?”
“I’ll see you in a few days.” Michael’s voice was hard, almost angry. He hung up without answering her question. You’re such a liar. Daniella thought. A minute later, she received a text from Michael saying he’d been held over three more days and would be home Tuesday morning. That was the most pleasant news she’d had all day. After deleting and blocking Michael’s number from her phone, Daniella prepared to enjoy the peace and quiet she wouldn’t have once she moved in with Alena. Three days later, the table was still set and the gift was still in the chair.
Monday morning, her moving day, while drinking a cup of coffee and watching the neighbor cut his grass, the mail truck pulled to the curb in front of Michael’s house. Daniella met the mail carrier and said, “Good morning.”
“Morning.” The middle-aged man smiled and handed her a single letter.
Without taking her eyes off the thick envelope addressed to Michael Stone, Daniella said, “Thank you, John. Have a good day.” Perplexed that Michael had received a letter, she walked away without hearing John’s response.
Michael had a post office box. He never received mail at the house. The sender must have had trouble finding her adulterous, lying, soon–to-be ex-spouse. She felt in her bones that like the recording of Mandy’s voice that was safely hidden in her luggage, the letter was a gift. Picking up the pace, she hurried into the house. She couldn’t wait to lay another stone on the road to the courthouse and her divorce decree. While pushing the door closed with her foot, she opened the envelope. Maybe Michael didn’t feel the need to have a post office box any longer since she never checked his mail. Or maybe Daniella had a guardian angel. She sent up a silent thank you in case that was true.
Flopping down in Michael’s huge leather chair that she hated, Daniella threw her legs over the arm. She pulled out a letter and photographs of Michael when he was about five years old. The photographs were small and six in a row like the ones taken by a school photographer. It was odd that the pictures hadn’t yellowed over the years.
Michael wasn’t alone in the world, as she had believed. He had never mentioned any relatives. This bit of news was yet another blow to her ego. She was angry with herself for tolerating her husband’s neglect. He hadn’t told his relatives about her or vice versa. Curiosity brought her out of that stupor. It was wrong to read his mail, but she wanted to know the name of at least one of his relatives.
Nothing could have prepared her for the words she read. The letter was from the closest relative a person could have. After reading the two words at the top of the page, something akin to a sharp knife plunged deep into her heart and then turned excruciatingly slow.
Dear Daddy.
A huge knot formed in her throat. The shaking started in her hands and spread up her arms. She swung her legs around until her feet were flat on the floor. Both hands gripped the chair until her knuckles were white. She struggled to inhale enough air to stay alive. Dizzy from the blood rushing to her head and the lack of air, she thought she was going into cardiac arrest. She wasn’t. The undeniable truth weighed so heavy on her chest that something inside splintered, she actually felt her heart breaking.
The thin sheet of paper with the tender words scribbled by a child, the envelope that the mother had lovingly addressed, and the pictures of a boy who looked exactly like his father drifted from Daniella’s trembling fingers and floated to the floor.
Daniella’s arms tightened around her waist. Trying to curtail the hurt, she bent until her forehead rested on her knees. When that didn’t help, she curled up in the huge chair and cried until the streetlights cast ghostly shadows on the walls. In the darkness, she allowed a river of tears to run freely hoping to wash away the scars on her heart. There were too many. The man she had wanted to father her children had given that gift to another woman. Michael had a child before he stood before the Justice of the Peace and pledged his life and love to her.
Daniella let the misery to bleed deep into her soul. She deserved the agony for convincing herself that Michael had ever cared. Covering her eyes from the truth hadn’t change the fact that Michael was an audacious shameless bastard. She thanked him for one thing. He had forced her to open her eyes. It was painfully clear that she would never know the true joy of love, but she would never forget how badly love hurt.
Right then and there, Daniella made a solemn promise that another man would never take everything from her. There would never be another Michael Stone. All of this hurt and pain after one simple love song and a slow dance. Lesson learned; declaration made. So it shall be done.
As the hazy blue light of dawn entered her room, Daniella came back to the present wiping away the few tears that always found their freedom. She didn’t bother to tell herself to forget Michael. That was a pointless exercise. Instead, she closed her eyes to end the movie, turned on her side, and tried to sleep.
TWO
In a perfect world, Daniella wouldn’t be jobless. In a perfect world, someone would be holding her hand and helping her through the tough times. In a perfect world, she would have comforting arms to walk into at the end of the day. Her world hadn’t been perfect since she left home eight years ago. Full of ambition, wonder, and expectation, Daniella had planned to work as a journalist, marry a wonderful man, and have the requisite two point five children, one dog, and a nice home. She didn’t reach her goals, but she did learn some valuable lessons.
On the business side, the most important lesson was that hard work didn’t always mean success. Many still thought beauty, male or female, meant brainless with a revolving bedroom door. Those already at the top thought sex was automatic if they help your climb. Even those at the bottom thought they were due at least one toss between the sheets.
Daniella dodged the callous, demeaning, sex-seeking leeches. When she fell, she got up, dusted herself off, and started over. There was nothing to sweeten the bitter taste of being passed over for promotion after promotion because she wouldn’t crawl into someone’s bed. With determination, she reached for her professional goals without compromising her self-respect.
Her personal life was worse. As prey, she managed to evade the hunters and gatherers with ease. Hunters lurk in coffee rooms, near water coolers, in hallways and elevators. When they can get away from their wives, they hide in corners of bars waiting to pounce. If they manage to lure someone into their trap, they run to a hotel, score quickly, and leaves before the woman wakes up.
Gatherers don’t lurk. They swoop in for the kill, hang around for a month or two until the woman becomes attached. Just before he tells her he never made any promises, he chooses another woman to take her place. The move from one to the other is seamless for him, but not for the large numbers of brokenhearted women he leaves behind.
Michael was a conqueror. Men like him can, without conscious, be bigamist. Unlike gatherers who never return to a conquest, conquerors brainwash their captives. Women believe these men love them. Sometimes they do, but that doesn't make it all right. Conquerors can have the same two or three women for years. The women don’t know about each other until the man gets caught. Then, with tears in his eyes, he faces all of them in a courtroom and pledges his undying love in hopes that one of them will take him back.
Daniella had managed to dodge the hunters and gathers, but the conqueror blind-sided and then charmed her into believing she was special. Michael played mind games that left her so turn around she didn’t know which way was up. By the time the whirlwind settled, she was walking up the aisle beside Michael with a ring on her finger. She had loved him. He had shown her the true color of vermin.
Michael was the reason she was jobless. While searching for anything that would pay money for her journalistic talents, Daniella accepted the position as a receptionist at VIP Recording Studio. She had worked her way up to an assistant in productions, and then to promotions. She had been a terrible promoter. She didn’t have the right mentality. Nor did she have the diplomacy and patience needed to tolerate female divas and male body snatchers—gatherers with less skill.
Tom Finn, her supervisor, chastised her at least once a week for putting some idiot in their place. The handsome and charming Michael Stone had been one of those idiots.
A week after ejecting Michael from her life, Tom slithered into Daniella’s office sporting his signature sleazy grin.
“Got a gift for you.” He tossed a folder on her desk and walked out.
The disdain Daniella felt for Finn made her nauseated. A once white now beige shirt was haphazardly tucked into nasty brown suit pants that his belly hung over. A hideous orange and green tie hung loosely around his neck. The few strands of hair meant to hide his balding head accentuated the obvious. She disliked the word hate, but it popped into her head anytime Tom Finn was within her radar. The man was despicable.
When he left her office, Daniella opened a window. She rolled her shoulders to release the tension and then picked up the folder. Before giving herself time to think, she shot out of her seat and stormed into Tom’s office. Breathing hard, she held the folder over his desk for a few dramatic seconds, and then let it drop. “I won’t work with Michael Stone.”
Tom leaned back in his chair, stared for a minute, and then burst into a laugh that was so hateful it made Daniella’s skin crawl. He leaned as far forward as his rotund middle would allow. Then he placed his elbows on the desk and pierced her with a stare that was just plain ugly. “Mrs. Stone, I heard that you and your husband are in need of marriage counseling. I do understand and sympathized with your problem. You have trepidations, but you have to look at this from my point of view. There’s a job to be done. Since you work for me, I tell you what to do and you do it. End of discussion.”
“I won’t work with Michael.” Daniella snarled. She turned her back to Finn, gathered her composure, and walked out.
Daniella wasn’t an asset nor did she sleep with him, so Tom had called Human Resources and had her fired before her behind warmed the chair in her office. She had unwittingly given him all the ammunition he needed. Daniella couldn’t sell water to a man dying of thirst. There was no contest between Michael’s profit making voice and her inability to promote anything. The next morning, a guard took her office key and politely escorted her to the sidewalk in front of the building. She’d had to enter the garage from the outside and walk down two levels to get her car. There had never been a more embarrassing moment in her life.
Three months later, Daniella was running on financial fumes and still aggressively searching for a job. She sat across the street from the Featherstone building and mentally prepared herself for her last interview. All the other interviews had been with lecherous men or snobbish women. Neither had bothered to get to know her. She had put Danni on her résumé hoping to get a foot in the door before her gender became and issue. One woman didn’t bother to talk to her because Danni Christopher wasn’t a man. If the woman had a brain, she would know that no man would put the letter i at the end of his name.
After drinking the lasts sip of coffee and setting the cup aside, she searched her bottomless purse for lip-gloss. Her eyes shot up when a man sat in the chair facing her. He was tall, handsome, and much too young. He grinned at Daniella as if he thought he had a line that guaranteed his game would not fail. She would have laughed if she hadn’t been in such a bad mood. He said something in teenage people language that she didn’t quite understand and reached for her hand. Pulling her hand free, she tried to rub away the migraine that was attacking her with swords and knives.
“Find somebody else to play with; maybe a girl your age who hasn’t been knocked around so much. You can’t do a thing for a woman with armor as thick as mine.” Daniella said. “Go away little boy.”
As the saying goes, “If looks could kill.”
Daniella heard people laughing as the furious young man stormed away. It wasn’t her nature to embarrass people. She had handled the situation poorly. She left the restaurant praying no more disasters happened before this day was over.
Shaking off her melancholy, Daniella reached deep inside for her interview persona and focused on the meeting with the next person who would laugh at her résumé. This was the last stop before she left Atlanta to return to Maryland. There wasn’t much in the way of her chosen career there, but she could work for the Federal government or teach at a university. As she walked across the busy street, she envisioned herself blindfolded and being led to stand in front of a firing squad. As if she needed something else to kill her enthusiasm.
Unable to force a smile, Daniella nodded as she passed the guard in the lobby. She was still rubbing her head when the elevator opened on the twelfth floor in a reception area. The room was huge and well decorated. The outside walls were glass. Large pictures of scenic places adorned the interior walls. Huge potted plants soaked in the rays from the sun. The room would be a virtual playground for artist and daydreamers like herself were it not for the many people waiting to see producers, promoters, agents, or business managers.
The Receptionist smiled as Daniella approached the waist-high, semicircular desk. Grabbing the strap on her purse with one hand and extending the other in greeting, she said, “Good morning, I’m Danni Christopher. I have an interview with Mr. Drysdale.”
The receptionist led Daniella down a long corridor to a very welcoming office. The woman at the desk smiled as they approached.
“This is Danni Christopher,” the receptionist announced and then said to Daniella. “Good luck.”
“Thank you.”
“This way, Ms. Christopher.” The name on the desk indicated that Brenda Hudson was addressing her. The friendly lady looked as if she was in her early forties but she was probably older. She had an infectious smile. Daniella hoped she was a reflection of her boss’s personality.
Daniella wasn’t good at the job she’d applied for so she didn’t have any confidence that the interview would go well. Promotion was the last field she should consider, but was the only one in the music business she had any experience in.
Brent Drysdale, the President and CEO of Mystic Records, introduced himself and said, “I read your résumé and in all honesty, I’m curious why you applied for a position in promotions? According to Tom Finn, you weren’t good at it. In fact, he told me that hiring you would be a waste of a salary. I had to see what kind of person would warrant the things he said about you.” Brent couldn’t hold back the chuckle. He had never seen anyone’s face express so much hatred. “He gave me some advice.”
The axe was about to drop. Daniella looked up as if she could see it coming.
Brent continued, “I was warned you were the worse promoter he'd ever met, but he admitted that your written reports were exemplary.” Brent leaned across his desk to draw Daniella’s full attention. “I judge people by their actions. One person’s thorn bush might bear fruit for me. Most importantly, I don’t need a promoter, so you won’t be driving away any clients.”
Daniella tilted her head and narrowed one eye on Brent. When an unladylike snort escaped, she covered her mouth in horror. Brent’s unrestrained laughter brought out a groaned that she regretted. Daniella closed her eyes for a minute in prayed she was dreaming. She wanted to run, but didn’t know how to do that without embarrassing herself more, so she waited. She would have taken a job greeting people at the elevator. Incredulously, she had managed to ruin even that possibility. If the sun didn’t shine soon, her rainy day funds were going to run out faster than she could get out of Brent's office.
“Mystic Records just introduced a magazine. I believe I have the perfect place for you.”
Daniella’s run away thoughts came to a screeching halt. Her heart jumped like she’d been resuscitated. The man sitting on the other side of a Louis XIV desk finally had her full attention. A minute ago, she was planning a getaway. Now, she covered her mouth to catch any uninvited sounds that might choose to rush out. Her attention was so short, she always had to question if she heard all that was said. This was definitely one of those times. Did he say what she thought she heard? Did he need a journalist? Fortunately, Daniella had been too embarrassed to move or she would have been out the door before Brent made the offer. She had gotten a second degree in journalism simply because she liked to write. Not only would she have her own byline, she was writing about something she loved—music.
Brent handed Daniella a tissue to wipe away an errant tear. She wanted to hug him, but settled on a handshake before she floated out of his office.
A day that had started out awful had become the best of her life. The minute she stepped out of the building, Daniella called Rory to share the news and to make plans for the evening.
Even though she and Rory were complete opposites, they became fast friends at VIP Records where Rory was a studio manager. Rory was intelligent, self-confident, sophisticated, and super model gorgeous. She had an innate ability to turn the world on its side. Rory had complete control of her life and everything in it. When she talked, people listened. Her beautiful dark brown skin and lack of wealth was proof that she was not of the blue blood set even though she had that air about her. People hung on her every word like she was the second coming. Daniella tried to learn through osmosis, but fell short. Rory had become another sister.
As she entered her apartment, Daniella dropped her purse and keys on the foyer table, and headed for the kitchen. She picked up the phone to listen to her messages. Her sister Barbara had called. “How was the interview? Call me.”
A beep sounded and then, “I’m serious Danni. If you don’t call, I swear I’m going to kill myself.”
Daniella shook her head. Allen was a blurry flash from the past. They’d been out five times before he told Daniella he’d never marry her because he’d lose his inheritance. Yet, he was so in love he threatened to end his own suffering at least once a week. To keep her good mood, Daniella switched the machine off before the crying and begging started. It was all she could do not to tell Allen to call back after the deed was done. The only thing that stopped her was that Allen might not realize that there aren’t telephone services in the afterlife. Daniella wasn’t sure of which direction he leaned on that thin line between sanity and insane. Again, she wondered why the Allens and Michaels of the world couldn’t pass her doorstep without dropping in.
With an exasperated sigh, Daniella shook all thoughts of men from her mind and went on a food hunt. The refrigerator had old milk, cheese, an apple, and butter. She grabbed the apple and pushed two on her cell phone.
“Hey Danni,” Barbara said.
“Hey yourself, I got a job.” Daniella said.
“Good for you.”
Barbara was one of the happiest people on Earth. Daniella heard the sadness in her voice. “Aren’t you happy for me, Bobbi?”
“I am, but I was looking forward to you and Lenni coming home.” Sometimes I need someone to talk to who isn’t under the age of fifteen.”
“If I could have this job in Maryland, I’d be there tomorrow.” Daniella said.
“I know.”
Daniella added, “Raymond is over fifteen. His ears work since you tell him everything. Based on how happy you are, I’d say everything on the old man works just fine.
“He’s only thirty-five and believe me when I say there’s nothing old on my man.” Barbara giggled.
“Oooo, I know that’s right. You don’t look like a neglected woman. You two probably do some serious nasty on that perfectly made bed of yours.”
“Daniella Christopher.”
Daniella could almost feel the heat from Barbara’s flushed face. “I have to go. I’m celebrating with Rory tonight. Kiss Raymond and the twins for me. Talk to you soon.”
Two hours later, Daniella grabbed her purse and keys on her way to the door. She glanced back at the empty apartment and thought about Barbara’s family. Barbara’s life was the exact opposite of Daniella’s. She had the greatest husband alive, two wonderful twin daughters, and a beautiful home. They were a picture perfect family. A quiet ache pricked her heart reminding her that she would be returning to her cold, unmade bed alone. Her professional life had improved one hundred percent, but her love life would never change.
Bouncing and singing to the music blasting from the radio, Rory lifted Daniella's spirit to where it had been earlier. Daniella laughed and wondered how someone so beautiful could sing so ugly. Ignoring Daniella’s laughter and still singing off-key, Rory pulled away from the curb and headed toward Interstate 20. For the first time in a while, they were both happy. James was the new man in Rory’s life. Daniella had a new job. Knowing where her next meal was coming from was a relief.
It was James’ birthday party. Neither Rory nor Daniella knew who owned the house so they were surprised when a woman answered the door and led them inside. A man stepping to the rhythm to the music swayed up to Rory. His eyes traveled from her head to her bright red toenails. A smile as wide as a crescent moon spread across his face. Daniella assumed he was James when Rory wrapped her arms around him and followed his movements to the music.
James held a drink in one hand and Rory in the other. Before they spoke a single word, James brushed a hand across her short cut, curly hair and continued to her lower back. He pulled her as close as two bodies could get without being obscene. Then he kissed her. Rory leaned into him and returned the kiss with so much passion Daniella felt like a voyeur.
Daniella was happy for them, but inside she hurt. Why won’t somebody love me that way? She inhaled deeply and turned away to hide her face. It took a few seconds to beat back the sadness that held her hostage.
Rory pulled her lips away from James’ long enough to say happy birthday. She didn’t take her eyes off him when she said, “This is my friend Danni.” She pointed in the general direction of where Daniella stood.
“Good to meet you.” James said. He didn’t look up either.
After a while, they took their eyes off each other and said in unison, “Sorry.”
James guided them down the stairs and into a room as long and wide as the house. Chairs were against the wall leaving the floor open for dancing. Daniella eased through the maze of bodies moving around the dance area until she reached the bar. It was likely she’d be driving herself home, so she asked for Pellegrino.
Daniella noticed Rory staring at her. Try as she might, she couldn’t hide the fact that she was probably the loneliest person in the world. Rory crossed the room to talk to her friend. Before she uttered a word, Daniella sent her back to James.
Rory wore a skirt that stop in the middle of her thigh. As she walked, men couldn’t keep their eyes off her long perfectly shaped legs. She was model tall, but not thin. Large brown eyes, a pert nose, and full lips on a rich milk chocolate face made her drop dead gorgeous. Even women stared at her.
James glared at every man whose eyes zoomed in on Rory’s curvy body and long legs. Daniella couldn’t help but laugh. He definitely had his work cut out for him. Being gawked at was so common to Rory she didn’t notice anymore. She’d looked that way since she was sixteen. Anyone with a speck of sense could see that Rory only had eyes for James. They’d already fallen in love with each other.
Daniella lifted the glass. When it was half way to her lips, she felt a hand on her lower back and knew immediately who it was. Only one man had enough nerve to touch her that way. Michael. Without facing him, she asked. “How are you Michael?” Not that she cared. She cringed when Michael slid his arm around her as if they were long-lost lovers.
“I’m so much better now.” Michael whispered much to close to her ear.
Unaffected by the playa’s line, Daniella pulled away. She watched through the mirror behind the bar as Michael eyed Rory for a few long seconds.
“You look good, Danni.” His attention back on her, Michael’s eyes raked over her body. “I’ve always loved those long golden brown legs of yours.”
Daniella gritted her teeth so hard she thought they might crack. Michael didn’t love anything about her. Her heart echoed with emptiness as her eyes traveled the room to avoid looking at him. Women looked at her as if she was the luckiest woman alive. That was as far from the truth as the Sun was from the Earth. To change the subject, Daniella asked, “Are you and James good friends?”
“Not really. We have mutual friends. He mentioned his birthday and I wanted to have a party in my new house. So here we are.”
“This is your house?” Daniella asked.
“Yeah. I needed it for tax purposes. Besides, I didn’t want to live in the other house after you left.”
“You sold your family home.” Daniella blurted out and then glanced around at the ears that had perked up as if she was the nightly news.
“No, I rented it. Why do you care? You didn’t like the house. Not once did you call it your home.” Michael smirked as he raised his hand to get the bartender’s attention.
Daniella shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t care. You claimed to love it so much.”
“I love …”
Daniella’s hand shot up in front of his face. “Don’t even tell that lie.” Daniella warned.
Michael stared at her with the unspoken words caught between his lips. He had never loved her. Their marriage had been the biggest sham of all time. Michael had gotten what he wanted. Daniella had gotten nothing. She wasn’t going to entertain the possibility that she might have been wrong to leave.