Driving Heat (25 page)

On Sunday, the day after returning from Minneapolis, the babysitter had invited Jayden to her nephew’s day-long birthday party at Legoland California, giving Cynthia and Byron some alone time that was as appreciated as it was unexpected.

“I don’t know about taking our relationship public,” Byron said, following Cynthia’s sharing her plans for next week. “I kinda like these secret meetings, where we have to hole up in your bedroom, order in food and movies, and coordinate my home visits with your son’s play dates.”

“Are you saying you’d rather be kept a secret?”

“Hey, it works both ways. Considering how your constant presence would forever ruin my player reputation, I might want to keep you on the low as well.”

“Player, huh? I’ve got something for you to play with all right.” Cynthia threw back the covers and brazenly spread her legs.

“My baby’s turned into a freak! I’m a lucky man.”

 

 

He still felt this way an hour later, after being called a mistake by two women he didn’t even know.

Cynthia didn’t waste time in correcting the misconception of the two Chicago friends who’d surprisingly showed up on her doorstep. In fact, with only a few sentences, she cleared up several errors, beginning with making an introduction that was long overdue.

“I see why the phone chat was postponed. Y’all should have brought Lisa and we could have powwowed in person. Gayle, Dynah, this is Byron Carter, who, unlike you right now, is an invited guest in my home. Byron, these two women are like sisters to me. They owe you an apology, and now that we’re clear on your place in my life, I’m sure one will be forthcoming. Which one of you two would like to go first?”

Cynthia looked from Gayle to Dynah. Both women remained silent. “My, my, isn’t this interesting. A ride to O’Hare, four and a half hours on a plane, and a taxi to Culver City . . . and all of a sudden you two have nothing to say?”

Gayle was the first to regain her composure. “We have plenty to say, Cynthia,” she said in a voice that was coated with forced civility. “But we’d rather have this conversation in private. We’re here at the request of your mother and what needs to be said could best occur with him not around.” The dismissive way she’d cocked her head let Cynthia know that her friend had regained her composure but not her common sense.

“My mother contacted you? Seriously? That woman is special, but I’ll tell you this. There’s nothing you share on her behalf that she hasn’t told me already, and nothing you have to say to me about Byron that he can’t hear.”

Dynah had been more observant, and tried a different tact. “I can understand you being upset, Cynthia, but imagine getting a phone call from a woman you’ve never met who just happens to be the mother of one of your best friends. She first reached out to Gayle through an e-mail, remembering her name from one of your conversations after seeing the name online. Gayle called me and then the number she provided through the e-mail. Your mother is worried sick about you, Cynthia. I’ve never heard a woman so distraught.”

She looked at Byron as she held out her hand. “Hello, I’m Dynah. I’m sorry for the way we’re meeting, but it is good to finally meet the man we’ve heard about.”

He shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, too.”

Three pairs of eyes forced Gayle to show the manners she’d been taught. “Gayle Steele,” she said with hand outstretched, her face resembling her surname.

“I’ve heard a lot about you ladies. All good things.” Byron smiled with his usual camaraderie and ease, as if he hadn’t just been called an error moments before. Sensing Cynthia’s continued frustration, he took over the conversation. “Would you like to sit down? You’re probably worn out from all that traveling. I was just getting ready to make breakfast. Nothing fancy, just an omelet, toast, and orange juice.”

“You’re going to cook?” Dynah asked.

“Yes, it’s a skill your friend has yet to master.”

Cynthia play-punched him. Dynah chuckled. “I can’t argue with that statement.” She walked over to the couch. “I’d love to join you for a bite.”

Gayle gave Dynah a hard look. Other than the dismissive nod, and curt greeting, she’d not acknowledged Byron. “Cynthia, may I speak to you in private?”

“What part of my earlier comment did you not understand? I’ve missed a couple of Sunday sessions so much has happened of which you’re not aware. I’ll happily fill both of you in over breakfast. So what that means, Gayle, is not only will we not speak privately, but if you don’t shape up and quit disrespecting a man who’s not only been cordial in the face of your ill manners but who’s offered you breakfast, you’re going to find yourself on the other side of my front door.”

“My concern for your future and that of your son is worth the risk of being tossed out on my backside. If I didn’t speak my heart, Cynthia, I wouldn’t be your friend. How can you turn your back on what Stewart can offer both you and Jayden?” She turned and addressed Byron directly. “I know this feels personal, but it really isn’t. And I’m sure you’re a nice guy. But I’ve known Cynthia a lot longer than you, and trust me when I say that you’re not the right guy for my friend. Jayden’s father can introduce and guide his son through a society where status matters, one that will prepare Jayden for a lifetime of success. The kind of privileged life he’ll provide for Cynthia is one you can’t imagine. If you care about her as much as she thinks you do, you’ll encourage her to do what’s in her best interest and that of her son.”

Cynthia prepared to pounce, but Byron stilled her with a slight squeeze of her shoulder.

“You might have known her longer, but I don’t think you know her well. If you did, you’d have no doubt that her being with me is in her best interest and her being happy is what’s best for her son. If you’d taken the time to climb down off that high horse and get to know me, you’d know that I don’t give a good got damn about you, your opinion, her mother’s meddling, Stewart’s status, or society period whether high or low. What Cynthia wants is the only thing I care about. Like you say, nothing personal, it’s just the way I roll.”

Gayle looked at Cynthia, her anger evident in the subtle shade of red spreading from her throat to her chin and cheeks. “Are you going to let him talk to me this way? I’ve been your friend for ten years!”

“And I hope you’ll be here for ten more, Gayle, but that can only happen if you stop trying to change my decision and run my life.”

Gayle took a deep breath. “I love you, Cynthia. When you come to your senses, I’m not sure Stewart will still be available. But I will, and I’ll help you pick up the pieces, rebuild your status, and return to the life you deserve.” She turned to Dynah. “Are you coming with me or would you prefer to find your own way back to the hotel?”

“If we can turn that orange juice into a mimosa, I think I’ll accept Byron’s offer for breakfast.”

Byron smiled. “I don’t know about mini whatever, but if you want alcohol I have some Hennessy.”

The three of them watched Gayle walk toward the front door.

Byron turned to Cynthia. “Baby, does this mean she’s not staying for breakfast?”

“Gayle, you’re being stubborn, but you’re welcome to stay.”

Gayle answered by softly closing the door behind her as she left.

By Friday of the following week, Cynthia had implemented most of the decisions that would change her life. She’d written long letters to both Gayle and her mother, spoken with her resigned yet slightly disappointed father, introduced an excited and accepting Lisa to Byron over the phone, hired an attorney to handle custody arrangements with Stewart, and finalized plans with Byron for their children to meet. Now, it was time to tackle the one that could affect her chances for becoming the agency’s director and potentially impact the trajectory of her career. She hoped for the best, but the single sheet of paper on company stationery, folded within the envelope she held in her hand, was proof that she was moving full speed ahead toward a life with Byron. There would be no turning back, or changing her mind.

After a deep breath and squaring of shoulders, Cynthia knocked on Tracy’s door.

“Come in, Cynthia.”

She did, and once Tracy returned to her seat took one across from her. “Thanks for agreeing to speak with me on such short notice.”

“I’d planned to request a meeting this afternoon. You simply beat me to it.”

“Yes, well, considering everything that’s happened, I’m not surprised.”

“By ‘everything happening,’ what exactly do you mean?” Tracy sat back, prepared to listen to what Cynthia had come to say.

“I’m speaking of the Thompson case, not only the positive outcome my going to Vegas helped ensure, but the potentially negative impact that what I’m about to share may have on my continued counseling of Leah and indeed my very employment at H.E.L.P.

“When Margo recently accused me of professional improprieties, she did so without having some of the information I later shared with you, that Byron Carter, the relative she accused me of dating, is in fact not related to my client at all, but is a play uncle. He and his family view Leah Thompson’s mother, Ava, as a sister. It is this view that complicated matters. Blood relation or no, Byron Carter is Leah’s uncle in every sense of the word. Which leads to my second revelation. I am indeed seeing Byron Carter on a social and even romantic basis. While this isn’t a direct breaking of organization rules, it is an interpretation that bends them, even though in a previous meeting you agreed that direct family as it pertains to no fraternizing isn’t clearly spelled out.”

“This very well could present problems, Cynthia. Why didn’t you share this information earlier, or begin a liaison with a client’s family member in the first place?”

“When he and I met, I was not aware of the connection.” She gave the short version of her and Byron’s destinies colliding. “When I offered to meet for coffee I had every intention of it being a business meeting of sorts, for information on my client’s extended family and nothing more. I didn’t expect to see him again and most certainly didn’t plan to fall in love with him.”

Tracy’s brow raised. “Love? How long has this relationship gone on?”

“Not as long as that word may imply. We’ve known each other for such a short while and because of the potential conflict, only recently labeled our being together a relationship, one that for a variety of reasons could not have been more unexpected.

“When I accepted the managerial position two years ago I immediately set another career goal, to learn as much as I could from you and others while in that position and use this knowledge to eventually secure a director position. At that time I had no idea you were planning to retire, and thought to head up my department for about five years.

“For almost two and a half years now, I’ve worked tirelessly to transform the young adult division of this agency into something the H.E.L.P. board members could be proud of. I’ve charted the progress of each client I’ve counseled and am happy to say that I have a one hundred percent success rate when it comes to reducing recidivism within this segment of society. Part of that was skill, but it was an equal amount of hard work, work that most in this agency don’t know about. On several occasions, Margo has been quick to point out my nine-to-five schedule. What isn’t known is that most of my Saturdays are spent in this office, and that many of the days I leave early it is to attend a school event or social activity of one of my cases. My hands-on experience didn’t start with Leah Thompson. And it most certainly didn’t occur because of her uncle, Byron. It happened because I cared about her the same as I cared about forty-two other young adults between the ages of thirteen and twenty-one.

“Again, I never meant for anything to develop with a client’s family member. There were no plans to fall in love with Byron Carter. But that’s what happened.”

Tracy asked a few more questions. The last one came as she eyed the envelope Cynthia held. “Is that for me?”

“Only if my seeing Byron ruins my chances of continuing as Leah’s counselor or becoming director. Given the friction between us, I’m sure you understand why if Margo is promoted I can’t remain at the agency with her as my boss. Rumors that a decision has been made have been swirling all week and if she in fact has been selected, I’m prepared to resign.”

“Well, sounds like you’ve thought of everything, covered all the bases.”

“Yes, Tracy, I have. Becoming this agency’s director is a position I not only desire but in which I believe I’ll excel. Therefore, this decision was made only after due diligence and careful consideration of everything and everyone involved.”

“Thanks for your honesty. A decision has been made on the director position and will be announced this afternoon. If still desired, I’ll accept your resignation at that time.”

Four hours later, the announcement was made. Cynthia walked into her office, picked up the envelope containing her resignation letter, and slowly walked across her office . . . to the shredder. Cynthia Hall, the newly appointed Director of the H.E.L.P. Agency, wasn’t going anywhere.

That night, she and Byron celebrated by returning to the Luxe Hotel where the first sparks of love were felt. The next afternoon, she and Jayden met Byron and Tyra at the pier at Redondo Beach. Byron and Tyra were already at the restaurant and had secured an outside table to enjoy junk food and the ocean waves before going to the white shark exhibit nearby.

Byron stood as they approached. They hugged in greeting, brief and casual, but enough to elicit a frown from Jayden, a subtle side eye from Tyra, and curiosity from each. Both Byron and Cynthia caught these reactions. Both also chose to ignore them.

Once they sat down, Byron spoke first. “Tyra, this is my friend, Cynthia. Cynthia, this is my amazing daughter, the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tyra,” Cynthia said, reaching across the table for a handshake.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Tyra dutifully responded.

“And this is my son, Jayden.”

“Hi,” Jayden said, seemingly flustered by the pretty girl who Cynthia noted at once looked a lot like her father.

“Hi,” Tyra said, not as impressed.

“Jayden, Byron is a good friend of mine.”

“It’s good to meet you.” Byron opted for a fist bump with the young man.

“Mom, can I go see the shark?” Jayden responded.

“After we’ve eaten, and after you’ve responded to Byron’s comment.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jayden said, in a way that suggested it wasn’t nice at all.

“I don’t want to go see no stupid shark,” Tyra said, with a pout that for ten-year-old girls seemed pretty much a requirement. “Daddy, can I go to one of those shops and get my name done on the wooden board like I saw online?”

“Sure, Tyra. You can do that after we’ve eaten and gone to the shark exhibit. Jayden might want to get his name done, too.”

“No, I don’t. That sounds like something for girls.”

“So! Getting something to hang in my room is better than paying to see a fish who’ll probably jump out of the water and eat you alive.”

“They can’t do that,” Jayden said, as if trying to convince himself. He turned to Cynthia. “Can they, Mom?”

“Ha! Look at him, Daddy. He’s scared.”

“I am not!”

“Yes, you are!”

“No, I’m not!”

“I told you, Cynthia,” Byron said to her over the din of their children arguing. “Our kids were going to love each other. Everything is going to be fine.”