“Robert, as you know, our client satisfaction guarantee is the best in the business, and one of our key differentiators,” she replied. “SPIDER Release 4 has been designed with that in mind. Because we can’t control your customizations, we can only guarantee the functionality of our original code. But, as Jeff explained, the knowledge and document management modules of Release 4 make tracking all modifications very simple. As long as your developers meet the process requirements, we will be able to track any problems.”
Without prompting, Jeff took over to delve deeper into the technical details of the issue. Monique listened intently, determined to stay focused, but prayed with every breath that the meeting would end soon. How many more questions could they still have after three solid hours of tech talk?
Her wish came true about ten minutes later. She and Jeff hung around after to chitchat for as long was appropriate, then they grabbed a cab to go back to Sector Asset. Jeff spent the short ride from San Diego’s downtown core out to their office in Mission Hills checking messages on his Blackberry. Monique had her head turned toward the window, and she wore large, dark sunglasses to cover up her blank stare off into space.
This melancholy had been with Monique all day and really took her by surprise. It had been several weeks since she had finally felt over him. Him being Donald Sanderson, the boyfriend she had broken up with after almost three years together. It had been really hard at first, but Monique was finally feeling as though the whole messy affair was behind her.
Until today, anyway.
In her calendar, she had bookmarked the coming Saturday as her ideal wedding day. The reminder notice had popped up when she logged onto her computer that morning. It was a note made impulsively almost nine months earlier, after Donald had assured her they would be married before Thanksgiving. At the time, fully in love and looking for assurances, she had believed him. Several weeks later, Monique had finally accepted that all his promises were lies and he was never going to leave his wife.
“Are you going upstairs?” Jeff asked once they had exited the cab. “It’s almost five-thirty.”
He was fairly young, probably a couple of years younger than Monique’s twenty-eight years, but one of the smartest engineers she had ever worked with. Unlike the other presales technicians in the company, Jeff knew how to explain complicated technology to the most clueless layperson.
“Yeah, I know,” she replied. “But, I still have to review some reports for tomorrow morning.”
“Well, don’t work too late,” Jeff advised before he jogged off to the parking lot with youthful energy.
Monique made her way to her office at a much slower pace. It was true that she had a little work to do, but she also had some time to burn before she had to be at her ball game later that evening. On Wednesdays, she played basketball in a recreational league, and tonight the game was scheduled to start at seven o’clock. That gave Monique enough time to wrap up a small project and get to the gym in time to change.
Her league played at the gymnasium at Balboa Park in downtown San Diego. Monique arrived later than she had expected and rushed to change out of her business suit and into gym shorts, a sports bra, and her team jersey. The last thing she needed was to arrive on the court late and after the starting whistle. She was the only woman playing in an all-men’s club, and she’d endured enough aggravation from the guys already.
When she was finally dressed, Monique hung up her work clothes in a locker, laced up her ball shoes, and sprinted out of the changing room. In her distracted haste, she almost ran into her friend and teammate, Gary Cooper, as he stepped out of the men’s changing room next door.
“Whoa,” he exclaimed, stepping back quickly to avert a collision.
“Hey, Coop,” Monique stated, once she realized who it was. She slowed down to walk beside him.
“Everything all right?” Gary asked, looking her up and down.
“Yeah,” she replied quickly. “Why?”
“Nothing,” he told her. “You just look all made up, that’s all. Are you trying to impress someone?”
Monique stopped dead in her tracks and quickly touched her cheeks in surprise.
“Oh, no,” she moaned.
She had forgotten to wash the makeup off her face, which meant that her eyes were still lightly rimmed with dark liner and fringed with lashes thickened with mascara. Her lips were probably stained with deep brick-red gloss. Monique immediately rubbed off as much lip color as possible on the back of her hand, then looked back down the hall, clearly contemplating dashing back into the changing rooms.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s barely noticeable,” Gary assured her. “Come on.”
Monique allowed him to nudge her into the gym, but she gave her lips another vigorous rub.
The large square room was filled with the sounds of men laughing and balls bouncing on the hardwood floor. It was a full-sized basketball court with several rows of bleachers for spectators. There were about twelve people sitting to watch, most of them the wives or girlfriends of the players. She and Gary joined the six other members of their team, the Ravens, as they did a few minutes of warm-up drills.
“Let’s pull it in!” demanded Sam, their captain. The six players surrounded him. “Okay, guys, let’s go with the regular starters. Gary, I want you to stay on top of number 23. We need to shut down his three-pointers before he warms up.”
Gary nodded.
“Nigel,” Sam continued, firing off the instructions, “you cover number 19. Scott, take 3 and Evans…”
When he got to Monique’s assignment, their eyes met briefly. Sam paused, and his brows lowered sharply as he scanned her face.
“Evans, you have 35. I’ll take 20.”
Monique nodded, wondering if she had imagined his momentary reaction. She brushed her hand over her lips again. Unfortunately, Sam was the type of guy who could easily make a woman stare at him so hard and imagine that he was looking back.
Everyone called him Sam or Samuels, but his full name was Tao Samuels. From what she understood, his father was African American and his mother was Chinese, so he had that striking, Tyson Beckford–thing going on, but with skin the color of golden caramel rather than dark chocolate. His face was long and angular, and he had piercing, intense eyes on an exotic slant and generously full lips. And if that weren’t enough to remember him forever, Tao was blessed with a tall, lean frame and a natural grace and athleticism.
The ball game started a few minutes later. Though the league was technically for men, there was nothing in the rule books to prevent women from playing. So far, Monique was the only female to take advantage of the opportunity. She had joined the Ravens a few weeks earlier in September, and it did not take long for her ball skills to become obvious. She had played NCAA division basketball in college and was now the team’s point guard, playing most of the game.
The opposing team, the Wild Dogs, was pretty good, but by the last couple of minutes in the game, it was clear that the Ravens were much better. This was the second time they had played each other, and the Ravens had won the first match-up by only a few points. Monique had been very new to the league at that time and had only played for a brief period. Tonight, with the flow of the game in her hands, the match was turning into a blow out, and the Wild Dogs were not taking the beating well.
In the last possession, like several times before, Monique dodged the man defending her and made a fast drive to the basket for a clear lay-up. The spectators on the bench were already snickering in anticipation of an embarrassingly easy play. But just as Monique leaped into the air with her arm extended, intending to roll the ball down the tips of her fingers, she felt a sudden impact against her legs, sending her careening wildly off balance.
It took all