Again

Chapter Two

Tiffany

T wo weeks after Marcus’ birthday finds me at my usual coffee spot near my house.

When I went to college for interior design, I had all these high hopes of designing homes and businesses for my rich clients. I never would have thought that most of my job would be me running errands for my bitch of a boss.

“Tiffany?” the barista calls my name.

I step forward and take my two cups of coffee. Turning to leave, I smash into the chest of a stranger. Hot coffee spills on my hands and down the front of the stranger’s shirt.

“Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry.” Grabbing some extra napkins off the counter behind me, I attempt to help the large man wipe his shirt. The guy snatches the napkins out of my hands abruptly.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going,” he shouts at me.

It’s times like this I have to remember the lessons I learned in kindergarten. Like keep your hands to yourself.

“It was an accident,” I explain.

“Yeah, well maybe if you were paying attention instead of walking around with your head up your ass, I wouldn’t be suffering from third degree burns.”

Take a deep breath, Tiffany. Don’t curse this man out.

“Sir, you bumped into me.”

He scoffs as he tries to dab at his shirt. “Now you’re playing the victim. Try to tell that to the cops.”

Is he serious? Looking around the coffee shop, I try to find the camera crew because clearly this is a prank. There is no way this man could be this dramatic.

“Like I said, it was an accident. One that you caused.”

“Fucking bitch,” he shouts.

At this point I’ve had enough. Tess will just have to go without her latte today. I toss my hands up and start to walk away. The guy grabs my arm in a tight grip and yanks me up against his chest.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

My heart starts to race and the hairs on my arm stand up. There is no way this man has his hands on me because of a fucking accident.

I attempt to tug out of his grip. “Let me go.”

“Shut up,” he shouts down at me.

“I advise you to let her go.” Until the day I die, I will never forget that velvety smooth deep voice.

I look up to find none other than my friend from the club. He’s in a dark gray suit that looks as if someone designed it just for him. His hair is styled to perfection and his beard is a little darker than the first night I met him.

“Stay out of this, buddy.” The guy holding me seethes, he then looks down at me. “You’re going to...”

The rest of his words never leave his mouth. Before I know it, he’s laid out cold on the floor and I’m wrapped in someone else’s arms. I look up to find those keen brown eyes gazing back at me.

“Are you alright?”

I let out a deep breath and nod my head. Jeez, this man smells so good. It’s the same scent from the night at the club. I have no idea the name of the fragrance, but again, I wish I could bury my face in his chest and engulf it.

I pull away from his hold. He allows me to put a little space between us but doesn’t let me go.

“Thank you,” I say and my voice quivers.

My brain is in a fog right now. Today has started out as a pretty shitty day. My alarm didn’t go off, which caused me to be thirty minutes behind. Marcus and I got into an argument because he hates his job. Who the hell doesn’t? My car wouldn’t start so I had to pay for an Uber. Tess called me at home demanding I get her coffee as if I’m her assistant and not a designer. Then this situation.

I try to stop the tears before they fall, but it’s no use. I sob as I cover my face. The stranger from the bar pulls me back into his chest.

“It’s okay. I got you, beautiful,” he whispers in my ear.

The serenity in his voice and the comfort of his arms has me crying harder. He starts to lead me away from where I’m standing. I don’t stop to look up or argue against him guiding me anywhere. For some strange reason, this guy doesn’t set off any alarm bells for me.

Before I know it, I’m sitting in the back of a nice car with leather seats that smell exactly like him.

Rubbing my hand down my cheeks to clear away my tears, I sniffle before saying. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to mess up your nice suit.”

He smiles, the same perfect one he flashed at the club. “It’s okay. It’s only a suit.”

He then takes the handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it to me. I use it to wipe my eyes and face. I refuse to blow my nose with it.

Once my face is clean and I feel as if I have my shit together, I suck in a deep breath before letting it out.

“Feel better?” he asks.

Nodding, I smile. “Nothing like an ugly cry to cleanse the soul, right?” I laugh nervously.

He places a finger under my chin turning my head back toward him. His intense eyes lock with mine. “Even when crying you could never be ugly.”

Hold up. Wait a minute. Is he flirting? Is this gorgeous, sexy, obviously wealthy man, flirting with me?

My mouth opens, but no words come out. Tapping on the window behind me is a welcomed distraction. Turning around, I come face to face with my Uber driver. Pushing the automatic window button, the glass slowly lowers.

“Ummm, hi. Am I still dropping you off?”

I smack my palm to my forehead. I’m sitting in this car acting as if I’m not already late for work.

“Shit,” I mumble as I quickly open the door and climb out of the car. Remembering my manners, I turn back to the stranger. “Thanks again, I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, Tiffany.”

As I turn to head toward my Uber, I think for a second, how does he know my name. But then I realized he might’ve heard it when the barista called my name in the coffee shop.

**

Ten minutes later, I’m rushing out of my Uber, promising five stars and a tip. I run into the building of Morgan and Prescott Interior Design. The geometric design on the tiled floor gives the office space a whimsical look. Yet the exposed light wood in the ceiling gives it more of a professional feeling.

I’ve wanted to work for M&P interior design since I was in high school. I have loved their work ever since they redid the public library twelve years ago. I was elated when I got the job. However, now some of that enthusiasm is gone.

Stepping into my cubicle, I place my purse down on the desk. As one of the newest junior designers on the team, I haven’t yet been given an office. I have no problem working my way up the ladder. I knew how this worked going in. Until I start getting clients and proving myself, I’ll be stuck out here in no man’s land. It usually takes up to six months to start getting projects. Unfortunately, I got stuck with Tess as my senior designer. For some reason she is refusing to allow me to add any input or give me designer status for any project.

“Hey,” Mira, my best friend since childhood, says.

Mira is a project manager for the company. We like to refer to her as the money person, she makes sure we stay on budget and on deadline. If Mira walks into your office, more than likely you have just blown through the client’s budget and have some explaining to do.

Mira tosses her long dreads off her shoulders before looking back briefly. “Tess is in a mood. Mr. Johnson wasn’t pleased with her hospital layout.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t blame him. Did you see that puke green color scheme?”

Mira laughs. “I don’t know why she’s in this green color phase. She did the same thing with the Liverman mansion. Plus, she went over budget by thirty thousand dollars.”

I make a face causing Mira to laugh.

The rapid clicking of heels has Mira looking over her shoulder. I don’t have to check to know that Tess is heading this way. Mira turns back to me with a grimace before stepping to the side.

Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself for Tess. She appears in the doorway of my cubicle. The first four buttons of her white silk blouse are unbuttoned showing off her newly purchased cleavage. Her brown hair is in beach waves down her back, and her pencil skirt stops just below her knees.

“You were late.”

“Yes. I had car trouble this morning,” I say.

“How am I supposed to take you serious as a designer if you’re showing up late to work without a care in the world.”

“Weren’t you late three days ago?” Mira asks Tess while leaning against my cubicle.

Tess turns to Mira and lifts her chin. “I had a family emergency.”

Mira scoffs and rolls her eyes. “More like hungover.”

Tess narrows her eyes at Mira but doesn’t argue. She turns back to me and frowns.

“This isn’t about me. We’re talking about a junior designer, that was late.”

“Once,” I say through clenched teeth.

“Excuse me?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest.

“I showed up late for work once, in the year I’ve been working here.”

Her brow arches. “Once is enough. Don’t let it happen again.”

I count to three in my head. I refuse to lose this job because I cursed my boss out.

Tess flips her hair over her shoulder, before changing the subject. “Mr. Johnson just told me that we have a meeting tomorrow morning with Niccolo Basille. He wants my team to lead the design project.”

“Niccolo Basille the hotel tycoon?” Mira asks.

Tess sneers, cutting her eyes to Mira. “No, the trash man. Of course, the hotel tycoon. He has a new luxury hotel opening up right on the waterfront. I heard the thing is booked out for months and it’s not even finished yet. He wants us to take over the interior design.” She flips her hair over her shoulder again. “This is a big deal and I need this project.”

I bet she does. Her last few projects have been disappointing. Her clients have all hated her first few designs, sending her back to the drawing board. She’s blown three budgets and went over the deadline twice.

“Wait, if the hotel is already being built, wouldn’t he have already had a design team?” I ask.

Tess rolls her eyes. “Does that matter?”

“I’m just saying. Maybe it would be useful to see why the old design team is no longer working for him. It could help us figure out what design he’s looking for or at least rule out whatever they did.”

“We?” Tess sneers. “Your job at the meeting will be to take notes. This is my meeting. Until I agree that you’re ready to take the lead on a project you will do as I say.”

She spins on her heels and storms away. I have to shut my eyes and count again. So many days I’ve wanted to curse her ass out, but as I said, I need this job.

“Every day I’m around her I have to remind myself I don’t look good in orange,” Mira says turning to look at me.

Mira and I aren’t the only ones in the office that felt the same way about Tess. She’s a bitch to most of the females in the office. However, she’s especially heinous to the few that work under her.

“I’m really getting tired of her.”

Mira shrugs. “We can always catch her in the parking lot. I’ll hold her down while you kick her ass.”

I burst out laughing, lifting my mood momentarily. “The sad part is, you’re dead serious.”

“Damn right I am.”

**

The rest of the day goes by quickly. After running errands for Tess, I did a little research on Niccolo Basille. Apparently, the man doesn’t like cameras. There are no good images of him online. They are either blurry or at a bad angle. However, his track record in the hotel industry is phenomenal. At the young age of twenty-five he bought his first hotel. Within two years, it became one of the top luxury hotels in the US. Since then, Basille Hotel and Resorts Corp, has been one of the leading luxury hotel providers.

To be the lead designer on that project or even part of the design team would be an amazing career achievement. Hell, it would do wonders for my dwindling bank account.

Thank goodness my car will be ready for pick up by tomorrow afternoon. Grabbing my stuff out of the Uber, I’m shocked to see Marcus’s SUV in the driveway. He usually gets home about an hour after me.

Stepping into the small rental home, I am nearly knocked out by the loud noise of the television. When I walk into the living room, I spot Marcus sitting on the couch surrounded by beer bottles along with a few of his friends.

“Oh, hey babe,” he says, glancing at me before focusing back on the TV. Before I can reply, the room erupts in an uproar. Marcus is on his feet cheering.

“That’s right. Pay me my money,” he shouts. The others in the room hand him cash. He collects the money with a smile on his face. “I told you fellas. I’m the man when it comes to these games. I know what I’m talking about.”

He makes his way over to me. Stopping in front of me, he places a chaste kiss to my lips.

“What are you doing home so early?” I ask.

The room grows quiet except for the rumble of the basketball game on TV. It’s like his friends know something I don’t.

Marcus rubs the back of his head. “I quit.”

I wait for the punchline to the joke. Neither of us had the freedom to quit a job without having another one lined up.

“You quit?” I repeat.

He shrugs before walking past me toward the small kitchen. I follow behind him. He pulls a beer out of the fridge, opens it, and takes a swig all while turning to face me.

I wait patiently for him to explain.

“That old man thought he was going to talk down to me. I’m Marcus motherfucking Williams. Two time all-American and three-time National championship winner. I was the sixth-round pick in the NBA—”

“And now you’re unemployed,” I growl. “You’re not the first or the last person that’s had to deal with an asshole boss. I do it on a daily basis.”

I understand how hard this transition has been for him. To be so great at something and to work hard for it all your life but to no longer be able to do it, sucks. But this is our life now.

Taking a deep breath and then blowing it out, I calm my temper a little. “Look, Marcus, I know you had bigger dreams. I understand, but we must face reality. Our bills, and that rising credit card debt isn’t going to go away because you once played in the NBA. Baby, we are supposed to be a team, and right now I feel like I’m the only one showing up to the game.”

He glares at me, not saying a word. Placing his beer bottle down, he storms over to me, his nostrils flaring.

“I’m going out. Don’t wait up.” He walks out of the kitchen and back into the living room. He speaks to his friends briefly before my front door slams shut. I close my eyes and lean against the kitchen wall.

Everyone told me that I needed to be patient with him. They warned me that it would take time for him to adjust. I’ve been doing it for the last two years. When does it end?

Instead of dwelling on our argument, I walk into the living room and clean the mess he and his friends left behind. Once I’m done, I shower and crawl into bed. I spend an hour researching everything I can about Basille Hotel and Resort Corp before finally calling it a night. Surprisingly, when I close my eyes, dark brown ones appear, and a beautiful straight set of teeth accompany them.