Читать книгу What Lies Between Lovers - Sophia Shaw - Страница 9

Did you ever end up in a bad situation, and have no clue how you got there? Did you spend hours wondering how things went so wrong, and why you did not see it coming until it was too late? Monique Evans had been asking herself the same questions for weeks now, and was still waiting for the answers.

She was fully engrossed in a few stolen moments of brooding when she heard her name mentioned somewhere off in the distance. It dragged her attention back to the penthouse-level conference room and to the dozen or so faces staring at her, waiting for her response to a question that she had not heard within a discussion she had not been listening to.

Monique blinked a few times, and then put a thoughtful look on her face. A little flutter of panic rose in her throat as several seconds ticked by and no appropriate answers came to mind. With the calculated practice of a seasoned salesperson, she searched for clues within the white boards and open presentations about what her clients wanted to hear. The silence stretched to the point where the coworker sitting beside her started to fidget in his seat.

“I want to make sure I understand your question before I go into detail,” Monique finally stated while glancing at the most vocal participants in the meeting. “Can you put it into context for me?”

She was relieved when Robert Tomlin, the head of asset management for the Broadline Logistics, nodded with understanding.

“We would like the new system to have some open source code so that our own developers can customize the software as needed. Then, we need to understand how those customizations will affect your product guarantee.”

Everything clicked for Monique at that moment. As the Director of Sales at Sector Asset Solutions, she was responsible for making sure their top clients, like Broadline, were happy with their software. This meeting was to close them on a full system upgrade, a project worth up to ten million dollars. Before her mind had wandered off to reflect on the current chaos of her personal life, Jeff Culvert, her Senior Systems Engineer, had been outlining the various upgraded features in the new version of SPIDER, Sector Asset’s core product. Easy and flexible customization was one of the biggest selling features.

“Robert, as you know, our client satisfaction guarantee is the best in the business, and one of our key differentiators,” she replied. “SPIDER Release 4 has been designed with that in mind. Because we can’t control your customizations, we can only guarantee the functionality of our original code. But, as Jeff explained, the knowledge and document management modules of Release 4 make tracking all modifications very simple. As long as your developers meet the process requirements, we will be able to track any problems.”

Without prompting, Jeff took over to delve deeper into the technical details of the issue. Monique listened intently, determined to stay focused, but prayed with every breath that the meeting would end soon. How many more questions could they still have after three solid hours of tech talk?

Her wish came true about ten minutes later. She and Jeff hung around after to chitchat for as long was appropriate, then they grabbed a cab to go back to Sector Asset. Jeff spent the short ride from San Diego’s downtown core out to their office in Mission Hills checking messages on his Blackberry. Monique had her head turned toward the window, and she wore large, dark sunglasses to cover up her blank stare off into space.

This melancholy had been with Monique all day and really took her by surprise. It had been several weeks since she had finally felt over him. Him being Donald Sanderson, the boyfriend she had broken up with after almost three years together. It had been really hard at first, but Monique was finally feeling as though the whole messy affair was behind her.

Until today, anyway.

In her calendar, she had bookmarked the coming Saturday as her ideal wedding day. The reminder notice had popped up when she logged onto her computer that morning. It was a note made impulsively almost nine months earlier, after Donald had assured her they would be married before Thanksgiving. At the time, fully in love and looking for assurances, she had believed him. Several weeks later, Monique had finally accepted that all his promises were lies and he was never going to leave his wife.

“Are you going upstairs?” Jeff asked once they had exited the cab. “It’s almost five-thirty.”

He was fairly young, probably a couple of years younger than Monique’s twenty-eight years, but one of the smartest engineers she had ever worked with. Unlike the other presales technicians in the company, Jeff knew how to explain complicated technology to the most clueless layperson.

“Yeah, I know,” she replied. “But, I still have to review some reports for tomorrow morning.”

“Well, don’t work too late,” Jeff advised before he jogged off to the parking lot with youthful energy.

Monique made her way to her office at a much slower pace. It was true that she had a little work to do, but she also had some time to burn before she had to be at her ball game later that evening. On Wednesdays, she played basketball in a recreational league, and tonight the game was scheduled to start at seven o’clock. That gave Monique enough time to wrap up a small project and get to the gym in time to change.

Her league played at the gymnasium at Balboa Park in downtown San Diego. Monique arrived later than she had expected and rushed to change out of her business suit and into gym shorts, a sports bra, and her team jersey. The last thing she needed was to arrive on the court late and after the starting whistle. She was the only woman playing in an all-men’s club, and she’d endured enough aggravation from the guys already.

When she was finally dressed, Monique hung up her work clothes in a locker, laced up her ball shoes, and sprinted out of the changing room. In her distracted haste, she almost ran into her friend and teammate, Gary Cooper, as he stepped out of the men’s changing room next door.

“Whoa,” he exclaimed, stepping back quickly to avert a collision.

“Hey, Coop,” Monique stated, once she realized who it was. She slowed down to walk beside him.

“Everything all right?” Gary asked, looking her up and down.

“Yeah,” she replied quickly. “Why?”

“Nothing,” he told her. “You just look all made up, that’s all. Are you trying to impress someone?”

Monique stopped dead in her tracks and quickly touched her cheeks in surprise.

“Oh, no,” she moaned.

She had forgotten to wash the makeup off her face, which meant that her eyes were still lightly rimmed with dark liner and fringed with lashes thickened with mascara. Her lips were probably stained with deep brick-red gloss. Monique immediately rubbed off as much lip color as possible on the back of her hand, then looked back down the hall, clearly contemplating dashing back into the changing rooms.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s barely noticeable,” Gary assured her. “Come on.”

Monique allowed him to nudge her into the gym, but she gave her lips another vigorous rub.

The large square room was filled with the sounds of men laughing and balls bouncing on the hardwood floor. It was a full-sized basketball court with several rows of bleachers for spectators. There were about twelve people sitting to watch, most of them the wives or girlfriends of the players. She and Gary joined the six other members of their team, the Ravens, as they did a few minutes of warm-up drills.

“Let’s pull it in!” demanded Sam, their captain. The six players surrounded him. “Okay, guys, let’s go with the regular starters. Gary, I want you to stay on top of number 23. We need to shut down his three-pointers before he warms up.”

Gary nodded.

“Nigel,” Sam continued, firing off the instructions, “you cover number 19. Scott, take 3 and Evans…”

When he got to Monique’s assignment, their eyes met briefly. Sam paused, and his brows lowered sharply as he scanned her face.

“Evans, you have 35. I’ll take 20.”

Monique nodded, wondering if she had imagined his momentary reaction. She brushed her hand over her lips again. Unfortunately, Sam was the type of guy who could easily make a woman stare at him so hard and imagine that he was looking back.

Everyone called him Sam or Samuels, but his full name was Tao Samuels. From what she understood, his father was African American and his mother was Chinese, so he had that striking, Tyson Beckford–thing going on, but with skin the color of golden caramel rather than dark chocolate. His face was long and angular, and he had piercing, intense eyes on an exotic slant and generously full lips. And if that weren’t enough to remember him forever, Tao was blessed with a tall, lean frame and a natural grace and athleticism.

The ball game started a few minutes later. Though the league was technically for men, there was nothing in the rule books to prevent women from playing. So far, Monique was the only female to take advantage of the opportunity. She had joined the Ravens a few weeks earlier in September, and it did not take long for her ball skills to become obvious. She had played NCAA division basketball in college and was now the team’s point guard, playing most of the game.

The opposing team, the Wild Dogs, was pretty good, but by the last couple of minutes in the game, it was clear that the Ravens were much better. This was the second time they had played each other, and the Ravens had won the first match-up by only a few points. Monique had been very new to the league at that time and had only played for a brief period. Tonight, with the flow of the game in her hands, the match was turning into a blow out, and the Wild Dogs were not taking the beating well.

In the last possession, like several times before, Monique dodged the man defending her and made a fast drive to the basket for a clear lay-up. The spectators on the bench were already snickering in anticipation of an embarrassingly easy play. But just as Monique leaped into the air with her arm extended, intending to roll the ball down the tips of her fingers, she felt a sudden impact against her legs, sending her careening wildly off balance.

It took all her effort and focus to keep her eyes on the basket, and as she headed for the hardwood, she watched the ball bounce around the rim before dropping in. And one, she exclaimed in her mind with victory. Then, she landed hard on her side with her left shoulder taking most of the jarring impact. Shouts of surprise and admiration filled the gym as the referee blew his whistle, indicating a foul. There were a few seconds of chaos before everyone realized that Monique was still on the ground and clearly injured.

Tao was the first to reach her, and she could hear the urgency in his voice and feel the warmth of his hand as he searched her legs for any fractures or sprains.

“Monique! Monique, are you okay?”

She squeezed her eyes tight, trying to fight the urge to scream at the pain that ran up from her collarbone to her neck. When she tried to answer him, she could not seem to suck any oxygen into her lungs.

“Monique!” added Gary as he crouched down near her head.

“I’m okay,” she finally gasped. “My shoulder…”

“Don’t move,” Tao commanded as he shifted his attention to an area around her upper arm.

“It’s okay,” Monique told him in a stronger voice. “I just banged it.”

“Stay still!” instructed Tao again.

She did as she was told and allowed him to gently inspect the area. He took his time, and Monique eventually opened her eyes to look up at him.

“Does that hurt?” he asked after prodding a tender spot and feeling her flinch.

Their eyes met, and Monique was taken aback by the intense concern reflected in his.

“Just a little,” she whispered.

“Is she okay?” asked Gary.

The other guys on the team where surrounding them, all clearly anxious to hear how she was doing.

“I’m fine,” Monique replied. “I just got the wind knocked out of me.”

To assure them, she sat up slowly. Both Gary and Tao quickly took her arms and helped her to her feet. Monique could not help but wince at the movement in her bruised arm. Once she was seated on the bench, the referee blew his whistle again and the game resumed, with Tao taking her foul shot for her.

There were only six seconds left on the clock, enough time for a final possession by the Wild Dogs. But with the Ravens already winning by twenty-seven points, no one expected much to happen. The few spectators in the stands started to pack up their things, and Monique turned away from the court to grab her towel. By the time she turned back around, a fight had broken out on the court and both teams were yelling and pushing at each other.