Fifteen Years (4 page)

ASIDE FROM Bionic Burgers, MacGyver Technologies was the only real job Josiah had ever held. To have bragging rights as the best systems analyst in a Fortune 500 company was a whole lot better than being known as the best fry cook in some greasy burger joint. It paid a lot more too. And with his new promotion to senior systems analyst, it was about to get even better.

His life was a far cry from the life of that teen who had struggled to keep the lights on in a shoddy Chicago dwelling. The new house Josiah had recently closed on was a neighborhood showpiece. It wasn’t a massive dwelling, but it was a beautifully designed four-bedroom structure. All of his furnishings matched, and wall-to-wall hardwood flooring guaranteed that he’d never have to worry about matted, dingy carpeting. In the summertime the house was comfortably cool, and in the winter it was warm and toasty. He had God to thank for his favor at MacGyver Technologies and MacGyver to
thank for providing him with the ability to live a life of abundance.

As Josiah opened the heavy glass door of his place of employment, the cool air from the overhead vents assaulted him. The foyer’s walls were painted in warm, neutral colors, and the corners were decorated with large live plants and cushioned leather chairs. Though minimal outside traffic filtered through, the foyer was open and inviting to whomever entered the building.

A gigantic oil painting of the late Sam MacGyver, the company’s founder, and the man who had given Josiah his big break seven years ago, hung on the wall in plain view, right above the receptionist desk. MacGyver was eighty-six years old when his personal secretary found him slumped in his office chair two years ago. He was a white gentleman who, according to office gossip, had only hired Josiah because the company had an equal opportunity quota to fill. But Josiah loved him anyway. Mr. MacGyver always challenged him, but at the same time treated him well. He was the first man in years who told Josiah he was proud of him. When the old man died, Josiah publicly praised his life and secretly mourned his death. The loss of Sam MacGyver had hurt him deeply.

Josiah smiled and waved at Lillian Wilkes, the office receptionist, as he passed her on his way to the elevators.

The prominence of Lillian’s ocean blue eyes rivaled Josiah’s hazel ones. Grey hair mixed with her naturally blonde tresses, and all of it was pulled up into the neatest bun on a daily basis. Though she claimed to be forever forty, Lillian was a woman in her mid-fifties. A nicer woman couldn’t be found at MacGyver, but by far she was the biggest gossiper Josiah had ever met. If there was ever any news floating around that should not be told, like the racial quota thing, Lillian was about her business, telling whomever would listen. And if there was no news to be told, she’d create a headline of her own.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Tucker. How was lunch?” she sang out.

“You know what I always say, Lillian: you can never go wrong with Chili’s.” He sure wasn’t going to feed her loose lips any information on the near meltdown he’d had at lunch.

Josiah heard her break out into a stanza of the Chili’s “Baby Back Ribs” song as he rounded the corner that brought him to the elevator doors. He was pleasantly surprised to find out that Lillian had a good singing voice, and he would have backtracked to tell her so had the elevator not given the signal that it had arrived.

When the doors slid open, Josiah found himself face-to-face with Mickey Colt, a man who wasn’t all that pleasant to be face-to-face with.

Though the word
unattractive
was politically correct, it didn’t begin to accurately describe Mickey. He was just plain ugly, and that was all there was to it. Mickey and Josiah were about the same age, but Mickey’s thinning, grey hair, uneven teeth, bright red nose, and a stomach that looked to be in its seventh month of pregnancy gave him the appearance of a much older man. Not to mention the lawn-sized Hefty bags under his eyes. The hair and bags were hereditary, the teeth were a direct byproduct of his voracious fear of dentists, and the red nose was due to year-round allergies. The protruding belly… well, that came compliments of Mickey’s daily diet that consisted mostly of Little Debbie cakes for breakfast, pizza for lunch, leftover pizza for dinner, and beer for dessert. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be meeting the same fate as the man he’d succeeded, only a lot sooner.

But even with all of his pronounced physical flaws, Mickey’s wife was more beautiful than those of any of the other male executives in the company. Mrs. Mickey Colt made Angelina Jolie look like a fungus with lips. Apparently money really could buy almost anything. No way Mickey would have had such a beautiful woman
if he weren’t heir to the MacGyver fortune.

Sam MacGyver’s death became Mickey Colt’s life. Mickey was Sam’s grandson, and since Mr. MacGyver and his wife had only given birth to one daughter, and his will stipulated that the company go to the oldest living male in the family, Mickey reaped the benefits of MacGyver Technologies. He’d never spent a day in college toward earning a degree, but he was the head honcho of a multimillion dollar corporation. Josiah shook his head at how lucky some guys seemed to be.

The office of CEO had definitely been an on-the-job training position for Mickey, and most days, Josiah had been the one to coach him. When Mickey accepted the generous inheritance, he knew very little about computer software. In truth, Mickey barely knew how to operate a computer. Prior to his joining MacGyver Technologies, Mickey had been a fast-talking salesman, pitching vacation packages to anybody who would listen. He’d turned in his Hawaiian shirts for Italian suits, but the fast-talking remained.

Mickey wiped his nose with a white embroidered handkerchief as he prepared to step off of the elevator. “Oh … Josiah, you’re back. Good. I wanted to move the meeting up by a half hour, and I think you’re the only mandatory attendee who left the building for lunch today. Meeting room has been changed too. Instead of down here in the lecture suite, meet us in the second floor conference room. Two thirty, not three o’clock. Meeting shouldn’t last much more than an hour. And bring that blue binder that I gave you yesterday. Need you to share your input with the fellas. Good deal?”

Josiah didn’t even bother to answer. Even with his inflated mid-section, Mickey walked as fast as he talked. By the time he ended his final sentence, Josiah could barely hear him. If it weren’t for the acoustics in the lobby, the words would have been lost in the distance.

When the elevator doors closed behind his entrance, Josiah
waited a moment before pressing the button that would take him to the fourth floor of the five-story office building. He leaned against the elevator wall and inhaled deeply. The smell of lemon-scented Pine Sol was strong enough to indicate that the cleaning crew had already done their early afternoon rounds … and faint enough not to be offensive to the nostrils. Even though the sanitizing of the closed quarters was apparent, lingering images of Mickey wiping his nose was enough to make Josiah use the tip of one of his leather Kenneth Cole shoes to press the button that would get the shaft moving in the right direction.

“Hi, Mr. Tucker.”

The owner of the voice stepped on the elevator as soon as the doors opened on the fourth floor. The woman didn’t look familiar, but that wasn’t odd. On any given day, the corridors of MacGyver Technologies could swarm with people Josiah didn’t know. Temps, interns, part-timers, gofers that had been hired through their special needs program … most of them knew Josiah because of his status within the company. Though Josiah was mindful to be courteous to them all, he never bothered to get to know any of their names. But then again, none of them had demanded that he take a second look. Until now.

“Good afternoon.” Josiah held the door open with his left elbow and extended his right hand toward the woman. “You know my name, but I haven’t had the pleasure of—”

“Matana.” She flashed a smile that could melt a glacier.

“Madonna?” Other than the singer, Josiah had never known a woman to have the name.

She giggled. “No.
Matana.”

Josiah felt silly, having mispronounced the name. It wasn’t the best first impression to leave behind, so he did his best to cover. “That’s a beautiful name.” He got the repeat smile he was fishing
for. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Matana.” Josiah released her hand when he noticed he was still holding onto it.

“Thank you,” she replied. “I’m glad you like it, but please call me Ana… with a short
A
.”

“All right,” Josiah said, and then with an enticing smile added, “I’ll call you Ana with a short
A
if you’ll call me Josiah with a long
O
.”

Her laugh was even warmer than her smile. Maybe Craig was right. Maybe a good woman was just what he needed. Josiah made it a rule never to date people he worked with. It just didn’t make good ethical sense. Inwardly he prayed that Ana wasn’t a new hire, but rather on a temporary work assignment.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before. How long have you been at MacGyver?” While Josiah asked the question, his eyes took thorough notes.

Ana had to be five nine or ten, taller than most women with whom Josiah came in contact. She wore flat, white sandals that didn’t exaggerate her height at all. Ana’s caramel skin was flawless even without makeup, and her mint green blouse and flowing white pants flattered her figure. Though Josiah couldn’t help wondering what Ana’s hair looked like, the stylish wrap that hid it was a perfect match to the ensemble.

“I don’t work here.” Her answer delighted Josiah. “I’m a full-time student going for my master’s in business management. I just dropped by to take care of a little business.”

“Oh, I see.” Josiah paused thoughtfully. “But if you’re not employed here, how did you know who I was?”

Ana flashed that remarkable smile of hers and replied, “What can I say? You’re famous.”

Josiah felt his face flush in response to the overstated compliment. After he was sure that a passing coworker was out of earshot, he said, “Thanks, but there has to be another reason.”

“Not really,” she said, adding a slight shrug. “I’m Nadhima Odemowa’s daughter. Every year, the current company yearbook serves as coffee-table reading material at my parents’ home. You’ve been named employee of the year for three consecutive years.”

“Four,” Josiah corrected with a chuckle. “But who’s counting?”

She laughed with him and then finished her thought. “The featured employee gets a three-page full-color spread, so that’s how I knew you when I saw you. Congratulations on all of your successes, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Josiah looked at his watch. “Well, Ana, I guess I’d better let you go. I’m sure you have places to be, and I have a meeting to prepare for. It was nice speaking with you.”

Josiah released the door so that she could be on her way, but Ana reached forward and pressed the button that would keep the door open.

“Wait a minute, Josiah,” she called. “How about dinner?’

“Dinner?” Josiah played dumb.

“Yes,” Ana answered. “I’d love to take you to dinner some time. It would give us a chance to … finish our conversation.”

Josiah rubbed his hand over the shadow on his chin. When Ana said that last part, she suddenly sounded like a 1–900 operator. Even so, her smile tempted him to accept. But Josiah knew she was interested in more than just finishing a conversation. He could feel the vibes from her, and the attraction had been mutual. He was sure that she’d felt them from him as well. But that was before he knew that this one couldn’t be a divine hookup.

“Thanks for the offer, Ana, but I don’t think that would be best. I make it a habit not to … well, socialize personally with coworkers, and that includes their family members.” Not exactly the truth, but not a lie either. As of right now, he was adding his associates’ family members to the off-limits list.

“Oh.” Ana’s downcast eyes gave her away. She was obviously not expecting his refusal.

“It’s a matter of ethics,” Josiah added. “You understand, don’t you?”

Her magnetic smile returned, and she raised her head. “Yes, absolutely.” Ana removed her hand from the button. “Well, it was certainly nice to meet you in person,” she said as the doors began drawing together. “Have a good day.”

“You too.” The door was already closed by the time he responded.

Josiah turned and began the trek to his office. Had he just returned Ana’s initial greeting and gone on about his business, he would have had the luxury of putting his feet up for a few minutes before going back downstairs for the meeting. Now he was pressed for time. By the time he got in his office, he would only have a few precious quiet moments before leaving for the conference room. That’s what he got for flirting.

Ana had it all. Poise, beauty, intelligence, style … all in one package. But when she said who her mother was, Josiah knew that in spite of her unquestionable desirability, Ana with a short
A
wasn’t the woman for him. He knew Nadhima Odemowa very well. She was a systems analyst too. Good lady. Hard worker. Kind heart. But she and her family weren’t Christians. They didn’t believe in the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. They didn’t believe that Jesus was the Son of God. Their guide for life wasn’t the Bible.

Josiah didn’t want to date a female version of himself, sharing all of his likes and dislikes. She didn’t have to be perfect like June Cleaver or beautiful like Clair Huxtable. But one thing she had to be was saved. A lot of things were optional, but salvation wasn’t one of them.

After opening the door to his office, Josiah flipped on the light switch and pulled his keys from his jacket pocket, tossing them on
the leather chair nearest the door before hanging his jacket on the coatrack. He was tired … and all of a sudden, hungry.

“I should have got my leftover chicken strips to go,” Josiah mumbled as he scoped his office, looking for nothing in particular.

His workspace was fairly small. All the systems analysts had modest offices. Josiah’s looked even smaller with the boxes in the corner that took up some of his already limited floor space. The boxes held most of the stuff that normally was kept in his file cabinet and desk drawers. All of it was transitioning with him on Monday to the new, larger space on the top floor.