- -
- 100%
- +
“Oh, Salim, there you go again. Can’t you make peace with Dad and move on? He could probably use your help and support right now.”
Salim snorted. “In that case he shouldn’t have hired his girlfriend to work at the studio.”
“What!”
“You heard me. I know squat about the television business and now I’m being railroaded into coming on board.” A horrifying thought gripped him, one he was reluctant to put into words.
“You have no proof,” Christiane admonished. “Dad’s pushing sixty. He’s getting up there in years and we’re the only two children he has. Why is it you always want to believe the worst of him?”
“I can’t summon up compassion for a liar and a cheat. Don’t you recall what he put our mother through growing up?”
“You and your assumptions.”
“Not assumptions. There’s been proof.” Salim began to recite events and situations, all captured either on film or in the newspaper.
But there was no swaying Christiane to his way of thinking. She was Daddy’s girl, always was and always would be.
Perhaps it was high time he paid a visit home.
Talking to his mother on the phone was one thing, but seeing her face-to-face was another. He’d planned on taking her out to lunch and giving her the gift he’d brought back from Africa anyway. There was no danger of running into the old man midafternoon, so why not just go on over?
Rather than take his pickup truck, he opted for his Vespa scooter. There was something about riding that sleek machine with the wind blowing in his face and the motor throbbing between his legs that made him feel invincible. He’d always marched to the beat of his own drummer anyway, and he wasn’t about to change.
Zooming in and out of traffic, Salim whipped across the bridge and onto Mercer Island where the family had its home. He navigated several winding roads before heading up a tree-lined driveway. He left the Vespa parked in front of the rambling brick mansion that he’d called home growing up.
Salim used the house key he kept on his key ring, but seldom used.
“Salim. Did somebody die?” Tilly the housekeeper who’d been a second mother to him asked as he sailed through the front door. She wiped her hands on the apron wrapped around her ample waist.
“No, no one died. I’m here to see my mother and you.” He gave her the full force of his smile.
“Consider yourself lucky that I like you,” she said, offering up a plump cheek for his kiss. Matilda, Tilly for short, was one of those rotund, ageless women whose fat prevented her from wrinkling.
She frowned at him. “You need to leave those muddy boots on the doormat. The floors were just done and I’ll be damned if I’m going to have you mess them up. How was Africa or wherever you’re coming from this time?”
“Lots of work, Tilly. I’m exhausted.” Salim slipped off his boots and left them where she’d instructed.
“Your mother’s in the bedroom. She has one of her headaches, probably brought on by you,” Tilly snorted. “Is that gift for her?”
“Yes, it is.”
Salim left her and headed down a long hallway toward his mother’s bedroom. Although she didn’t think he knew it, it had been years since she and Tanner had shared a room. The old man’s room was on the opposite end of the hall close to the staircase so that he could come and go as he pleased.
What a way to live.
Salim knocked lightly. He heard a stirring from inside and then his mother’s voice came at him.
“Tilly, didn’t I say I didn’t want to be disturbed?”
“It’s me, Mother.”
“Salim! You’re back.” There was genuine joy in her tone. “What brings you here? I would’ve thought you’d be home sleeping and jet-lagged.”
The door opened slowly. Lucinda, dressed in an elegant silk robe, embraced him. It reminded him of when he was a little boy and got hurt. It was always his mother’s arms he sought.
They’d always had a special bond. Lucinda understood his need to carve out a life for himself. Her easygoing nature and acceptance of others made her a pushover for her dominant husband. It made Salim want to protect her. And protect her he did.
“I came to see my favorite woman,” Salim answered when he was able to separate himself from her lily scent. The smell of lilies was one of his first memories. To this day just a whiff took him back in time to a place when life was so much simpler.
Lucinda whacked his arm. “I bet that’s what you say to all your girls. If you’ll give me a few minutes to change, I’ll have Tilly fix us something to eat.”
Salim handed her the gift he’d brought all the way back from Zimbabwe. In exchange he received another tight hug.
“Oh, Salim, you shouldn’t have, but I’m glad you did. This jewelry box is beautiful. Give me five minutes to get dressed and then meet me in the sunroom.”
True to her word, Lucinda arrived in the sunroom at the appointed time. Salim was already comfortably seated in a wingback chair, sipping bottled water and watching a muted television with one eye. When he stood, she wrapped him in another tight embrace.
“What’s really brought you here?” she asked, olding Salim away from her and examining him with a critical eye.
“I came to talk to you,” he answered.
“About?”
“What’s going on with your husband’s health?”
“Did your father say something to you?” his mother hedged.
“The old man summoned me to the studio, Mom. He says he has health issues. It’s the first time I’ve heard of heart problems. If I’m being manipulated I’d like to know. I canceled a ticket to Haiti and put my life on hold. Tell me what’s going on.”
“He didn’t want you or Christiane to worry,” Lucinda said in a soft voice.
“Really? All his life it’s always been about him.”
Lucinda took the chair across from Salim and crossed a shapely leg. Salim sat back down and waited for his mother to begin.
“Your father is not the ogre you make him out to be. If he’s reaching out to you, it’s because he needs you to step up and take over. The diagnosis from his doctor is not good.”
Salim cracked his knuckles so hard Lucinda flinched.
He didn’t know what to say. “Why didn’t you call me and warn me this was coming, Ma? I’m not management material. I don’t even own a suit.”
She held up a hand, silencing him. “A suit does not make the man. You’ll have plenty of help running TSW. Your dad pays his executive team well for their expertise. What we need is a strong presence at the studio while I nurse him back to health.”
The comment propelled Salim out of his seat. He snorted and began circling the room. “The whole corporate thing makes me want to gag, Ma. I’m not much for the politics or phony people.”
“Then let’s not talk about the situation,” Lucinda said, accepting the cup of tea Tilly handed her. “Tell me about Africa. The jewelry box you brought me is quite lovely and very well crafted. I’ll use it to keep my everyday rings.”
For the next hour while they visited, Lucinda caught him up on what was happening in her life and he shared his. She shared how worried she was about Tanner’s upcoming surgery.
Despite Salim’s feelings about his father, he threaded his fingers through his mother’s and squeezed her hand hard. Lucinda sniffled loudly and took a sip from her cup. Speaking more to herself than to him, she said, “There’s nothing more relaxing than a well-brewed cup of tea.”
By subtly shifting the conversation, they ended the visit on an upbeat note.
In an overt act of rebelliousness, Salim arrived at TSW studios on Thursday in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that had seen better days. His father was nowhere to be found when he arrived. Diane made the usual excuses.
“Your dad’s in a meeting,” she said, pointing him to a seat and picking up yet another phone. Salim soon got tired of hanging out in the waiting area. He was about to take a walk when along came Kennedy Fitzgerald. Today she was dressed in another of those sharp conservative suits.
Today’s getup was a pin-striped suit, the skirt skimming the knees of her beautifully shaped legs. Pearls circled her neck and she sported matching earrings. No one dressed like this in Seattle, not even the lawyers. But Kennedy Fitzgerald made her conservative suit look becoming, even sexy.
The three-inch heels of her pumps beat out a rat-atat as she approached Diane’s desk.
“I’m a few minutes early,” she said in a very refined voice.
“Unfortunately, Mr. Washington is running a few minutes late. Why don’t you introduce yourself to Salim, his son? He’s seated over there.” Di pointed a finger to the corner where he was seated. “You two are in the same meeting and this may be a good opportunity to get acquainted.”
He could kill Diane. She’d put him in a spot. Now he couldn’t very well walk away without being rude. He forced himself to smile, wave and pat the spot next to him. “Please join me. There’s plenty of space.”
Kennedy looked at him as if she smelled something slightly unpleasant. She started toward him gingerly.
The words popped out of his mouth before he could stop them.
“You look lovely,” he said.
He was surprised when Kennedy Fitzgerald actually had the grace to blush.
Chapter 4
Kennedy picked up on the tension between father and son. Salim remained slouched in a chair, not saying a word, while his father outlined his plan. Thunderous was the only way to describe his expression. He made no secret he was not at all happy about what his father was planning.
“When are you expecting to step down from your position?” Kennedy asked the studio head.
“My surgery is scheduled for two weeks from today. I’ll be here to at least transition Salim into his role.”
“And what are you expecting me to accomplish during those two weeks?” Kennedy asked, jotting notes as the senior Washington spoke.
“First things first. Salim will have to learn to dress the part of a successful executive.”
“Are you expecting her to take me shopping?” Salim sneered, at last breaking his silence.
“No, there’s no time. We’ll have a tailor and a personal shopper come onto the premises. Kennedy can help you pick out your suits, shirts and ties.”
Salim glared at Kennedy. “The hell she will!”
When she’d accepted the job of grooming Salim Washington into the man his father thought he could be, she knew it would be no easy task. From the very beginning she’d seen rebel written all over him, but at the same time there was a restless, adventuresome spirit that she’d found very attractive.
“You’re stepping into the role of president of a prestigious television studio,” his father reminded him quietly. “You need to look the part.”
“That may be so but I don’t require a woman to dress me, nor do I need another mother.”
“Kennedy is a leadership consultant.”
“And a total waste of company money.”
Salim popped out of his seat and bounded toward the window. He turned his back on both of them and stared out onto the parking lot.
The conversation continued as if he didn’t exist. Ignoring his son, Tanner Washington handed Kennedy a sheet of paper.
“I’ve highlighted and prioritized everything I expect you to accomplish.”
Kennedy glanced at the paper because that was what was expected of her.
“I’m expected to teach your son table manners?” she asked in a low voice.
“I’m expecting that you’ll teach him how to be a gracious host. Now, if that includes knowing which fork to use, and when to use it, then so be it. This position requires he entertain influential people.”
“Don’t talk about me as if I don’t exist,” Salim groused. “How long will I have to put up with Ms. Fitzgerald shadowing me?”
Tanner took his son’s ill humor in stride. “For as long as it takes. The sooner you get your hands around this business and work on your people skills, the sooner you’ll be on your own. I don’t anticipate being out very long. People with heart transplants are on their feet in days, and this is bypass surgery.”
Kennedy privately thought the older Washington man was being overly optimistic.
Salim’s glance took in his father’s spacious surroundings. The suite was larger than most people’s apartments and had several rooms.
“Will Ms. Fitzgerald have her own space or are you expecting me to share this office with her?” he barked.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“I won’t share an office. I refuse to be babysat.”
“We’ll see,” his father responded in the same level tone he’d had from the beginning of their meeting.
Salim returned to stand in front of his father’s desk. He held out his hand for a copy of the paper that Kennedy was reading.
“If you’re going to set expectations, then you might as well share them with me,” he snapped.
“I’ll have Diane print you up another copy.”
In an attempt to defuse what she saw as a conflict in the making, Kennedy handed her paper to Salim.
He held it gingerly between his fingers and scanned it quickly. “You gotta be kidding! You’re expecting me to be joined to this woman’s hip. She’s to teach me how to small-talk and stay away from controversial topics. The only thing she’s not to do is diaper me. Forget about it!”
A sarcastic laugh followed. Salim slapped down the list, made an abrupt turn and headed for the door.
“A substantial donation to AIDS research is at risk here,” his father shouted after him. “I’ll stop contributing to your trust fund if that’s what it takes. Just think about all those poor people in Haiti that you currently support.”
“You really are unconscionable,” Salim gritted out, sending his father a fiery look before he disappeared.
“It’s a big change for your son,” Kennedy said after Salim had left. She’d always played the role of peacemaker on the job. “He just might need a little time to digest everything you’ve said. You’ve hit him with quite a bit and he’s probably having difficulty coping with your health issues. Children often think of parents as invincible.”
Privately she thought it was an awful thing to do, blackmailing your own child. At the same time she was curious about the Haiti reference. Prickly as Salim was, she had the feeling there was a caring man somewhere deep inside. She had to give him credit for standing up to an intimidating man and being true to himself.
“My son’s always been a challenging personality,” Tanner said, rising and coming to sit across from her. “He could give two hoots about money. He uses it only to benefit someone else. Shall we get the other items on our agenda nailed down? Diane will arrange for you to tour the studio afterward.”
For the next half hour the studio head talked about his expectations, and what he hoped Kennedy would accomplish with his son.
“I’m tossing in a bonus,” Tanner added as they wound down their business. “You whip Salim into shape and you can have your own television program. Take your life coaching to the masses.”
Kennedy’s excitement began to build. What he was proposing was better than immediate cash in her pocket. She could be a household name like her idol, Oprah.
“That’s an interesting proposal but I’m not sure anyone would be interested in me,” she said.
“Don’t sell yourself short. With a bit of marketing and the right exposure you could be one of TSW’s rising stars.”
Kennedy tamped down on her excitement. She’d accepted the position because of money and the company car that came with it; a television show was a very nice offer but she couldn’t afford to get carried away.
Even so, her heart was palpitating so fast she thought she might have an attack. A television show meant exposure and more clients than she needed. All that translated into cold, hard cash. Plus, she really enjoyed what she did so this could take her career to a whole new level.
“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Tanner Washington said. “We make it a reality show where select members of the audience share issues they are having. They’re paired off and sent to a place similar to the Dr. Phil house, just like you see on his show. Three months later we bring them back. Now the studio audience gets to vote as to who’s made the most progress. The program would be cutting edge. Ratings are bound to soar. And I can see you’d be very telegenic.”
“It would certainly be different from the usual lineup,” Kennedy said diplomatically. “Can you give me some time to mull this over?” she asked, not wanting to appear too anxious. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for show business.”
In the back of her mind she thought this was a nobrainer, but it was smart not to sound too eager.
Tanner rebutted with “What’s there to think about? Most people would be champing at the bit given this opportunity.”
“I’m not most people.”
Tanner chuckled as if he thought her answer was the funniest thing he’d heard. “That’s exactly why I hired you. You’ve got credentials most people only dream of. What’s impressed me is that a young black woman had the foresight to learn Japanese and French along with her native English.”
“Thank you. My grandmother is Japanese and I learned to speak the language at an early age. French I studied in school and spent a year abroad perfecting.” Kennedy glanced at her watch. “If we’re done I’m going to have to run. I have a dinner appointment.”
“No time for a tour, then?” Tanner asked, walking her to the door and handing her over to Diane.
“I can do a quick one.”
“Diane will get you all set up.”
“Happy to,” Tanner’s assistant said, taking over.
Kennedy scanned the general area realizing for the first time that Salim was sprawled in one of the chairs. He was waiting, she presumed, to speak to his father. She would not be a witness to that confrontation.
“Did I hear something about Ms. Fitzgerald needing a tour?” he asked, deigning to get up.
“Yes, your dad asked me to find someone to show her around.”
“You just did. I’ll take over from here, Diane,” Salim said, smiling at his father’s assistant.
Kennedy’s gut told her she was in for a treat. It was the first time she’d seen what looked like a genuine smile light up Salim’s rugged features, and again she was struck by what a difference that made. He was the kind of man who looked as if he stepped off a Field and Stream cover.
She glanced pointedly at the clock on the far wall. “I’m sorry but we’ll need to make this quick. I have to be some place in about forty-five minutes.”
“Ten minutes will take care of things. I’ll give you a quick walk-through and point out the highlights.”
It surprised Kennedy that he was even offering. She really couldn’t quite believe it. He’d made his dislike of her so apparent. There had to be something in it for him.
Salim held on to Kennedy’s upper arm, guiding her down another long carpeted hallway. She felt an inner tremor and dismissed it as a delayed reaction to her interview. As they walked, he pointed out the celebrities whose pictures adorned the walls.
“Hey, Salim,” an attractive man who looked vaguely familiar said as he swung by them.
“David McFarland,” Salim supplied. “And in case you haven’t kept up, he’s a popular soap actor.”
Kennedy wasn’t a big fan of soaps, but she did recall seeing the man on a couple of talk shows and she remembered hearing something about David being the current flavor of the month.
They toured a construction area where sets were being built and Salim pointed out the warehouses where props were stored. Kennedy got to see the set where a popular talk show was filmed. On another set, a special effects machine created a winter storm. When they came to white double doors, Salim slowed down.
“This is our commissary. We can get something to drink if you’d like,” he said.
And even though Kennedy had promised her other brother, Roosevelt, that she’d meet him at his place in Edmonds for dinner, she was curious about this man with his mercurial changes of mood.
“I can if we make it quick.”
Salim left her seated in a comfortable booth and went off to get their drinks. He had a loose-limbed walk to him and the view from the rear set off a number of erotic fantasies.
While she waited for him to get back, Kennedy looked at the activity around her. The couple in a nearby booth were fighting, and from the looks of things the woman was winning hands down. The table across from Kennedy held several burly types who looked as though they worked construction. Their casual, dusty clothing was a sure giveaway, and she guessed they were grips, the people who moved scenery.
“This is a busy place,” Kennedy’s escort said, sliding into the seat across from her and shoving a foam cup her way.
“I can tell. Is there something you wanted to say to me?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact there is. I’ve never wanted anything to do with this studio. The money from my trust fund is at stake, and my mother’s pleadings and her livelihood are the only reason I’m here.”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.