But never forgot.
Now he calls about every six months.
And this was that sixth month.
“Did I get you a bad time?” Trent asks.
I do a fake yawn. “Just sleeping.”
“Dreaming about me?”
I smirk.
“I miss you,” he says.
“How is Namibia?” I ask.
“It’s a little depressing, seeing so many young women coming through the clinic. It makes me think about the young girls at home in Harlem, Brooklyn, and the Bronx who can’t afford medical care.”
“Well, they have one of our best doctors there,” I say. “So I am sure that they are getting the best attention.”
“Thanks, Chase, but I am only one of many doctors here.”
There is a brief silence.
“How’s work?” he asks.
“Everything is going well,” I say. “I got the GBS Reality Television Awards happening in a few months, so we are busy with figuring out the nominees, presenters, and host of the show.”
“Sounds exciting.”
“It is.”
“I’ll be home soon.”
My heart starts to race.
My breathing is faster.
It’s been over three years since I last saw Trent.
There was no closure.
No ending.
No face-to-face.
“I would love to see you when I return,” Trent says.
“Be careful out there,” I say. I’m not sure if I want to see him.
“Well, listen, I just wanted to hear your voice,” Trent says. I hear the dejection in his.
“All right, talk with you later,” I say, and push the OFF button while he is saying something.
I roll over on the bed and stare at the ceiling.
Am I ready to see Trent?
Has my heart really healed?
I let out a deep sigh and shake my head. I remember the nights of Trent lying next to me. The intimate moments we shared.
Curled on the sofa those rainy and snowy nights.
Reading the Sunday paper to each other.
Sharing our dreams of life together.
Our worlds orbiting, never becoming one, yet somehow in sync.
Now, we are in two different atmospheres.
Two different time zones.
I toss my Apple iPhone across the bed. I reach into the drawer of the nightstand and grab the bottle of Wet Platinum Lube.
I pour a handful.
Close my eyes.
And, I finish what Quincy had already started, before my food arrives.
Chapter Eleven
I barely make it in the office and my phone is ringing off the hook. Before I can put the phone to my ear I hear Ashley’s voice squealing about Quincy. “Boy, he is fine! You better get him before someone else at GBS gets hold of him. Oh my gosh, the things I would do to him. How much longer is he working for you?”
“Three months.” I hate the thought of it. I even hate saying it.
“And you’re not at least going to try to get him in the bed?”
“That is not my mission. I told you my policy on this.”
“But, Chase, you can’t let him get away. I’m telling you he will go there with you if you stop being such a prude. I saw it in his eyes.”
I pull the phone away from my ear. I don’t want to hear any more.
Yes, he is fine.
Yes, I want him, but I can’t cross that line.
It will be utterly unprofessional.
“Ashley, I’ll call you back later.”
I lean back in my leather chair and look out onto Times Square. Droves of people are rushing through the streets. Cars, taxis, and trucks weave through the concrete maze. I sip my Starbucks caramel latte.
I start biting my bottom lip.
Just as life seems to be leveling for me I get the curve ball.
Correction.
I get the slider, the knuckleball.
First, Quincy, in all his beautiful-glorious-milk-chocolate-studness shows up to torture me for the summer.
Then, Trent calls and says he’s coming home soon and wants to see me.
I take a big gulp of my latte and decide I’ll handle Trent when he gets home. And for the next three months of Quincy’s internship I will stay away from him.
I will have very little contact with Quincy.
I will have my assistant Alicia deal directly with him. She is his supervisor and it is her job to keep him busy.
It’s time to put into effect the covert operation: AVOID QUINCY AT ALL COSTS!
Evade.
Remain busy.
Preoccupied.
Focused.
But that damn Quincy is persistent.
Over the next three weeks he has managed to consistently set up five-, ten-, and fifteen-minute meetings to update me on his learning experience. Each time he sits across from me I notice a gleam in his eyes.
Maybe Ashley is right.
Or, I am seeing what I want to see.
On one occasion while we were talking outside of my office he delicately placed his large hand on the middle of my back. I almost jumped out of my skin.
I also catch him out the corner of my eye staring at me when I walk by his desk. He sits in a small cubicle a few doors outside my office. His long muscular dark body sits erect in front of the computer and I notice his eyes following me.
I find myself wanting to abort my mission and throw caution, danger, and trouble to the wind.
But I won’t.
I can’t.
I refuse.
In a few months he will be gone.
Out of my life.
No temptations.
No distractions.
Lord, give me the strength.
Chapter Twelve
The company receives a major announcement from Richard Goldstein, the President of GBS Television. Rap artist Jay-Z is performing at Radio City Music Hall. Our network has received complimentary VIP tickets to attend the show. Richard gives my department several tickets. I immediately decide not to attend. I don’t have anyone to go with. Ashley has her performances with The Lion King and she can’t afford to miss a show.
I give my assistant two tickets and since Quincy has been doing a great job thus far, I give him two tickets.
On the day of the concert everyone in the office is gleaming. They are all talking about the show. It is all over the radio. The newspapers cover the event like