Читать книгу Chances Are - Donna Hill - Страница 11

When Garrett arrived at the studio the following morning Jason was already there setting up to shoot a public service announcement for the local historical society.

Garrett poked his head in. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“I should be asking you,” he said adjusting the teleprompter for the woman from the society.

“No luck if that’s what you mean.”

Jason stopped what he was doing. “’Scuse me a minute,” he said to the woman seated in front of the monitor. He crossed the studio floor to where Garrett stood in the doorway. “I’m telling you, man, call her. Lay the cards on the table. Just be upfront,” he said under his breath.

“Listen, I ain’t begging nobody for nothing. We got this far without this project, we’ll keep going.”

“Yeah, doing the same thing day in and day out,” he hissed. “What about our plans, man? Huh?”

“Listen, Jas. If we could get one grant, we’ll get another. I’m not going to sweat this. If she decides to call and accept, fine. If not we’ll move on.”

Jason tossed it around a minute and looked long and hard at his friend, knowing that once Garrett made up his mind on something that was it. “Yeah, all right, man. You’re the boss. Whatever you decide to do I’m behind you.” He slapped him on the shoulder. “Just don’t take too long to think up something brilliant.”

Garrett chuckled. “Yeah, right. Thanks. No pressure. See you later. I’ll be in editing. Tom and Najashi in yet?”

“Tom is. Najashi should be here around noon.”

“Cool. Later.”

Dione had alternately been staring at the phone then at the proposal. Debating. Yes, the girls had re-thought the idea and had decided to go along with it. But what about her? She felt as if she were being squeezed like a lemon. There was no easy win. Either way she stood to lose a lot.

All during her restless night, she thought about her options, and her level of participation. The bottom line was she only had to reveal as much or as little as she wanted. Niyah didn’t have to find out how ugly her beginnings really were.

Resigned, she reached for the phone, just as it rang.

“Good morning, Chances Are. Ms. Williams speaking.”

“Hey, Dee, it’s Terri.”

Dione’s face and spirit instantly brightened at hearing the voice of her dear friend Terri Powers.

“Girl, it’s good to hear your voice,” she enthused, easily slipping into the sistah mode. “When did you sneak back into town?”

“Just got in last night,” she said with her barely there Barbadian accent. “Clint and I were overdue for a vacation. We’ve been burning the candle at both ends.”

“Yeah, I hear you. But it’s always extra nice when you have your own getaway resort to get away to.”

They both laughed. Terri’s husband, Clint, had opened a small resort several years earlier in the Bahamas and it had really taken off. Between Clint’s uncanny business skills and Terri’s public relations savvy, their careers and their finances were set. They’d gone through hell and back before finally getting together; from the kidnapping of Clint’s daughter, Ashley, to the resurrection of Terri’s brother, Malcolm, who she’d believed had been dead for years—but they did get together and they were exceedingly happy.

“So, what’s been happening? Any luck with the proposals?”

“No,” she pushed out a long breath. “But we’ve finally decided to go with the documentary.”

“Fantastic! I told you weeks ago it was a great idea. You know I’d be more than thrilled to put a promo campaign together for you once it’s done. No problem.”

Dione smiled. “I’m going to hold you to that. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

“If you hadn’t wanted to carry the weight of that place on your shoulders, I told you I would have worked out a P.R. campaign for you to pitch to those stuck-up funders.”

“I know, I know. Don’t rub it in.”

“When does it start?”

“That’s the thing. I’m not sure. Actually, we just decided last night. We put it to a house vote. I haven’t even spoken to the producer yet. He may not want to do it at this point.”

“He’ll do it. The story behind Chances Are is a gem. Your story especially.”

Dione’s stomach fluttered. “That’s my biggest concern, Terri. You know that. Niyah doesn’t know everything.”

“Dee, it’s time that she did. She’s almost eighteen.”

“I know,” she said, a sad hitch in her voice. “I just don’t ever want her to feel the same worthlessness that I felt for so many years. Or that my bringing her into the world was the cause of—”

“Don’t even go there. If anything, Niyah was and still is the catalyst for everything that you’ve become. Everything that you’ve done for so many other young girls who had no one and nowhere else to turn. That’s something to be proud of, Dee, not ashamed.”

“And how many times over the years have I had this very conversation with myself? It’s just easier said than done.”

“Well, sister-friend, it’s got to come out sometime.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. But I’ll work it out.”

“You always do. Now make that call, girl. I’m itching for a new project.”

Dione laughed. “I will and I’ll call and let you know what happens.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks, Terri. Talk to you soon.”

Slowly Dione replaced the receiver, a soft smile framing her mouth. She was blessed. That was certain. She was surrounded by people who cared for and believed in her. And they were depending on her. How would her life have been different if her parents had been there for her when she needed them most?

She took a long breath, picked up the phone and dialed Garrett Lawrence’s number.

Garrett was right in the middle of putting the crucial piece of a choreographer’s video together. Painstakingly he ran and reran the tape to get it in perfect sync with the music.

At first he ignored the ringing phone, intent on what he was doing, until he realized that everyone else was in the studio taping the pubic service announcement.

“Man!” He stopped the tape, silently promising himself for the millionth time to set the answering machine for those days when Marva, their part-time receptionist, was off. He snatched the phone from its base on the wall behind him.

“Hello,” he barked. “G.L. Productions.”

Dione frowned at the abrasive voice on the other end and hoped that whoever this was, wasn’t representative of who she’d have to deal with.

“Yes. Good morning. This is Dione Williams from Chances Are. May I speak with Mr. Lawrence please?”

Garrett sat straight up in his seat, the video forgotten, partly from the jolt of the call itself, but mostly from the throaty, almost hushed voice of the caller.

“This is Garrett Lawrence. How are you, Ms. Williams?”

Now that’s more like it. “Fine. I’m calling because I’ve gone over your proposal again—and,” she forced the words out of her mouth, “I’d like to set up a time when we can meet to discuss the arrangements. That is if you’re still interested in working with us.”

“Yes, I’m still interested,” he said, fighting to hold back his enthusiasm. “Whatever time is good for you. I’ll make myself available.”

She was hoping he’d say it was too late, but—“How’s this afternoon, about four o’clock?”

“Four is fine. I’ll be there.”

“No. I mean, actually I’d prefer if we met somewhere else.”

It was his turn to frown. He would have thought she’d want to meet on her turf. Women. “You’re welcome to come to the studio. That would give you a chance to see the facility and I can show you some of the work I’ve done.”

“All right. What’s the best way to get there by car?”

The morning sped by entirely too quickly. Before Dione knew it, it was three o’clock and if she had any intention of being on time, she needed to leave. She’d put off the inevitable for as long as possible.

Dione signed off on the last case file. Overall she was pleased with the reviews of the girls’ progress. Her staff meeting the previous afternoon had yielded glowing remarks for the ten residents. Only two out of the ten were in need of new physicals, and appointments had been set up.

Everyone with the exception of Theresa was either in school or working. According to her files from the group home she’d been transferred from, she hadn’t gone any further than seventh grade and had been diagnosed as a “special ed” student.

However, in the three months that she’d been at Chances Are, the staff had determined that Theresa’s problem was dyslexia, which was never properly diagnosed or treated. Brenda had investigated several special programs and they’d finally found one that would be perfect for Theresa. Now the only problem they faced was convincing Theresa that she could succeed in school and in life—with a little help and hard work.

Dione closed Theresa’s file and put it with the stack to be returned to the cabinet. Getting up, she took her purse and coat from the coatrack and headed upstairs.

She peeked in the door of the main office. “I’m going to the meeting with Mr. Lawrence,” she said to Brenda.

“I can go with you if you want.”

Dione smiled. “No. Thanks. I’ll deal with it. See you in the morning.” She turned to leave.

“Keep an open mind, Dee,” Brenda called out.

“Yeah, yeah. I will.”

“Why did she decide to come here?” Jason asked.

“That’s the way she wanted it and I wasn’t going to debate the point.”

They walked side by side through the facility checking each of the rooms, wanting to make a good impression, then returned to the front office.

“I’d like you to sit in on the meeting, Jason. Fill in anything I might overlook.”

“No problem.”

Garrett checked his watch. “She should be here in a few minutes. We have anybody to cover the phones while we meet?”

“I’ll get Najashi or Tom. Whoever’s not busy.”

The front door buzzed.

Jason looked at the security monitor mounted on the office wall. “Mmm, if this is her, we’re in luck buddy.” He buzzed her in.

Garrett just shook his head, knowing that Jason thought any woman with a grain of looks was fair game, even though he was solidly married. So his assessment could often leave a lot to be desired.

They could hear her heels click down the hall.

Garrett stepped out of the office into the corridor to meet her.

“You’re on,” Jason whispered.

Garrett stopped, watching her approach and was immediately reminded of those sleek Ebony Fashion Fair models strutting down a runway.

She wore a full-length cream-colored cashmere coat that she’d left open to showcase a body-hugging jersey knit turtleneck dress. Her auburn hair barely brushed her shoulders and was swept away from her face. Dark glasses shielded her eyes and when she removed them, startling hazel eyes zeroed in on him, set against a rich tan complexion devoid of any noticeable makeup, save for a hint of cinnamon-colored lipstick.

His stomach seesawed. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this vision. Somewhere in his subconscious he’d convinced himself that anyone who ran a home for girls was a short nondescript plain-Jane, who couldn’t get a man, even if they did have a great voice on the phone.

He swallowed and a sudden heat swept through him when the sexiest smile he’d seen in far too long slowly slid across her mouth.

And then she was right in front of him, her hand outstretched.

“I’m Dione Williams. I’m here to see—”

“Me. I’m Garrett Lawrence.” He took her hand and had the overwhelming urge to caress it instead of shake it. Get it together, brother. “Good to finally meet you, Ms. Williams. Come in. I’d like to introduce you to my business partner.” He released her hand and Dione inexplicably felt adrift.

While she was walking down the corridor and had seen him standing there, her first thought was that he was an actor, or something, here to do a taping. Never in her wildest dreams did she associate this delicious-looking man with the voice on the phone. Garrett Lawrence was a work of art in motion.

The tight black sweater outlined the breadth of his shoulders and defined the hard contours of his upper body. The pale blue jeans he wore—well, they set her imagination into high gear.

She couldn’t remember the last time simply meeting a man had this kind of powerful effect on her. There had to be something wrong with him. And then he turned and smiled, flashing the deep dimple in his right cheek and the sexy gap in his front teeth.

It was hot. Too hot. She needed to get out of her coat.

“Ms. Williams, this is my business partner Jason Burrell.”

Jason stood and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Williams.”

Dione gave him a tight smile, trying to give herself a minute to recoup. “You, too.”

“Can I take your coat?” Garrett stepped behind her and helped her with her coat.

A shiver raced up her spine when his fingers brushed her back, and the subtle scent that he wore, wafted around her, light as a breeze.

“Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable,” Jason said, indicating a chair at the circular conference table.

“Thank you.” Dione slipped her glasses in her purse and sat down, crossing her long legs at the knee.

Garrett and Jason took the two remaining chairs and tried to keep their eyes off her legs.

“I hope you don’t mind if Jason sits in on the meeting,” Garrett stated more than asked.

“Not at all.” Now she wished she had brought Brenda along. At least between the two of them, one would have been able to pay attention to what was being said and not the timbre of Garrett’s voice or the brilliance of his dimpled smile.

“Good.” He blew out a breath and folded his hands on the table. “I know you probably have a lot of questions about the proposal, so why don’t you start.”

Now she was in her element. She could focus on what she’d come to say and not how he kept making her stomach jump up and down every time he looked in her direction. She cleared her throat. “Not so much questions,” she began in that low-down voice that shimmied in the air then settled in the center of his belly and vibrated. “More like guidelines.”

“Fine. Let’s hear them.”

Item by item she went down a laundry list of “do nots.”

“The outside of the building can never be filmed at any time. I have to ensure their privacy and in some instances their safety. None of the girls can be filmed or interviewed without a staff member present and they are not to be asked questions without being advised what they will be beforehand.”

Minute by minute Garrett was becoming more annoyed. By the time she finished with her litany of what he couldn’t do, he wouldn’t have anything worth filming. Yet even with his anger rising to the surface like molten lava, ready to overflow and scorch everything in its path, he couldn’t help but be fascinated by Dione. He could hear the intelligence, determination and fire in her voice. He could see the intensity and passion flame in her eyes, and feel the strength that radiated from her like an erotic scent, all mixed together in one incredible package.

So what made a woman like Dione Williams use all her intellect, beauty and strong will to work with a group of loose, moralless girls?

“Does that about cover everything, Ms. Williams?” Garrett asked when she’d finally concluded.

Jason shot him a look, knowing that Garrett was ready to bust, which Garrett totally ignored.

“There won’t be much for us to shoot,” he added.

She could see his smile was forced, but he couldn’t hide that dimple if he tried. Stay focused, girl. “I’m sure if you’re as skilled as you claim in your proposal you’ll find enough for your film.” She angled her chin in a challenge.

Hmm. He liked that. She didn’t back down. There was obviously no compromise with this one.

Garrett leaned forward, his voice dropped to a new low. “Believe me, Ms. Williams, I am as good as I say.”

She suddenly felt as if a raging furnace door had been opened and she was standing right in front. His comment was purely casual, it was the tone and the swift, dark look in his eyes that rocked her to the core.

She gave him a cursory smile. “We’ll have to see now, won’t we?” She stood. “May I have that tour now?”

“Sure.” He stood up. “Follow me.”

“Oh, I’ll just cover things until you get back,” Jason said, giving Garrett a wink on the side. “Nice meeting you, Ms. Williams. Looking forward to working with you.” He handed her her coat, which she draped over her arm.

Dione extended her hand and smiled. “Nice meeting you, also.”

Garrett and Dione stepped out into the corridor and across the hall. “A couple of my crew members are shooting a PSA—a public service announcement—in the main studio.”

“How many do you have—studios?” she asked as they walked into the control room and stood in the doorway.

“Two. The second one is down the hall.”

She watched the three monitors in the control room while the woman on the screen told whoever cared to listen why they should make a donation to the historical society.

“That’s Najashi,” he whispered not wanting to disturb them, as he pointed to a man in all black with the short twists in his hair. “And that’s Tom on the end working the audio.”

The first thing she noticed about Tom was the tattoo of a snake that peeked out from the collar of his oversized Tommy Hilfiger shirt.

“Come on, I’ll show you where the real work is done.”

He took her into the editing room, closed the door and dimmed the lights. Dione’s pulse quickened. Her body and mind went on full alert.

Garrett didn’t even notice her agitation. Once in the dimly lit editing room, he was in his element, explaining the different machines and lighted dials, what they did and how a program was put together from raw footage.

“Sometimes it can take hours just to put five minutes worth of usable footage together. But it’s the key to making the work look good.”

On the monitors, he showed her some of the projects he’d worked on and what each one was about.

As she listened to him talk, her tension slowly began to ebb. She could tell that he loved and believed in what he did, and he probably was just as good as he claimed. She had to admit she liked listening to the deep resonance of his voice when he spoke, watching the cool control of his long fingers as he demonstrated how the equipment worked and the way he took his time and answered her myriad questions about what each machine did and how without making her feel silly.

It was fascinating. And so was Garrett Lawrence.

“That’s about it for the dog and pony show,” he said switching off the tape and turning to her in the black swivel chair.

There was that nice smile again.

“Very nice,” she said in her best, I-don’t-impress-easily voice.

His smile didn’t waver. She’s a tough one.

“How long do you think our, I mean the documentary project will take to complete?”

Oh, I heard that one. You’re not as cool as you’d like me to think. “Hmm. If we get started within the next week, hopefully before Christmas.”

“Christmas! But I need—I mean, why will it take so long? The whole point in my agreeing was to…get this over and done with as quickly as possible. I don’t want your filming to interrupt the girls’ holidays.” She’d be damned if she’d tell him that Chances Are was in financial trouble and it needed this documentary to appeal to funders.

“Is interrupting the holidays another no-no that you forgot to mention?” He hated the holiday season. It always reminded him of what he’d never had. So he always made it a point of working right through them. Kept his mind off himself. After so many years he rarely thought of what it meant to others and didn’t care to know.

Her eyes widened and she was just about to open her mouth when Garrett held up his hand. “Listen, like I said before, the whole process takes time. We both want a great piece of work. Now I can come in and do something half-assed—excuse me, I mean—-no, that’s exactly what I mean.” His eyes narrowed. “Or I can do what I know I can do—a fantastic job that everyone can be proud of. It’s your choice.”

He leaned back in his seat, angled his head to the right and folded his arms.

Three months, she thought. That would barely give her enough time to resubmit any proposal before the end of the year. And then an idea began to emerge.

“Mr. Lawrence, how successful are those PSA things?”

He shrugged. “They get people’s attention if they’re positioned right. Some of my clients swear by them.”

“Do you think you could do some for me—for Chances Are while you work on the documentary?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not.”

She blew out a sigh of relief. Maybe she could get Terri to work out a publicity plan and use the PSA along with it. “When can we get started?”

Her excitement over the possibility sparkled in her eyes, Garrett noticed. “Whenever you’re ready.” He shrugged. “Tomorrow?”

She laughed. “How about next week?”

He liked the way she laughed, soft, but from deep inside. “Next week is fine. I’ll check our schedule before you leave and give you a date. Do you want to do it here or at your place?”

She knew what he was asking, but the question still sounded so provocative. “What do you think would be best?”

“We can do one of each. And a combination of both.” He grinned, slow and easy.

Her heart fluttered. “Great.”

“But in the meantime, fair is fair, Ms. Williams. I showed you mine, when will you show me yours?”

Oh, these word games. The corner of her mouth curved up. “Call my office in the morning. I’ll make arrangements.”

“I’ll do that.” His gaze held hers.

She took a breath. “I’d better be going.”

He took her coat from her arm and helped her to put it on.

She could have sworn he was standing a bit too close, especially when she felt his warm breath run along the back of her neck.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

“I’ll walk you out.”

When they reached the front door, she turned to him. “Thank you for a very informative afternoon.”

“No problem.”

They stood there looking at each other seeming not to know what to do next.

Dione swallowed. “I’ll expect your call in the morning.”

“First thing. But until then, don’t keep me in suspense. Who’s going to be your on-air personality for the PSA?”

She smiled. “Me.”

His gaze rolled over her then back up to her eyes. The right corner of his mouth curved and his eyebrows arched. “Ever been in front of a camera before, Ms. Williams?”

“No. But I’m certain you’ll make sure it doesn’t look that way.” She turned and walked toward her car.

“It will be my pleasure,” he whispered, as he watched her slip behind the steering wheel. “It certainly will.”