Chapter 3-Callie
Monday morning surprises are rarely good.
The sun is breaking through the fog as I wash our breakfast bowls. I see a brightly colored flash by the window and grin. “There you are. We”ve missed you.” The male Anna’s Hummingbird buzzes around the little feeder we refilled last night for a handful of seconds and zooms off again. “Well, don’t just eat and run. At least, you won’t disappear so quickly on me,” I murmur, glancing at the cheerful array of hummingbirds Mama painted on the kitchen sink’s backsplash last year after I leased the place.
“Wyatt, it’s almost time to go,” I tell my son.
“One more Bumpy?”
Glancing at the clock, I say a silent prayer that the Muni is running on schedule and agree to one more episode of his favorite cartoon. Monday mornings are enough of a struggle. The washing machine makes an ominous sound as I put Wyatt’s lunch in his school bag. Not today, you. It’s on its last legs but it quiets again as my phone buzzes with a text.
Tabitha:Yoga class?
I text back that there”s no time today. She sends me a frowny face emoji but doesn’t push.
No time. The story of my life. Between Wyatt and work, keeping up with chores, time with my parents and my limited social engagements, doing things for myself like attending yoga classes or even reading a book without a dump truck on the cover feels like a major indulgence.
The end-credit theme song for ‘Grumpy Bumpy’ plays, the cartoon series based on the beloved children’s book, and I know it’s time to evict my son from the sofa. “Up, up, up, Bump,” I call.
“Down, down, down!” he shouts back, standing on the sofa in his sock feet before crashing into the pillows like an Olympic diver.
A tug of war ensues of wrangling Wyatt into his jacket and shoes as he giggles and tries to burrow deeper into the pillows. He’s just playing and, despite the sweat breaking out along my brow, I don’t lose my cool. It feels like a victory when we head to the door.
The air is crisp this morning as we ride the Muni to his preschool. When I started working at Golden Gate, it was a major financial boost from my previous job. I could buy a car easily enough now but it just seemed like a hassle when I’m used to public transportation. We’ve got a nicer apartment and I’m putting away plenty for a rainy day and Wyatt’s education. That’s better than a car.
“Sorry, folks. We’ll be back in motion in no time,” the driver says when we come to an unexpectedly prolonged stop. Definitely no time for yoga class this morning.
Wyatt kicks his feet, telling me he’ll peddle the bus back into motion for us. I smile and hold his small hand and, when he glances up at me, I’m struck by those beautiful green eyes of his. I see them every day, love seeing them.
But there are times I remember who those eyes must’ve come from. Not me, mine are hazel. Not his father either. Chase’s eyes had more blue than green to them. No, Wyatt’s eyes match his Uncle Ezra’s. I hadn’t realized how uncanny it was until I saw him again and today I find it unsettling.
Saturday night’s ball comes back to mind and so does he; his fierce falcon mask, that sexy smirk and the feel of his touch. I can’t believe I danced with Ezra thirty-six hours ago. Just my luck. Worse than that? I liked it. A lot. Until I knew it was him.
He may lack Chase’s more charismatic personality but he’s not without his allurements. Hell, who am I kidding? I was undeniably turned on when he called Doug unworthy of me for not manning up enough to cut in during our dance.
But, I can’t forget who he is, a powerful man with a heart even colder than the hockey rink he’s building.
I try to forget the Sokolov brothers and Princeton University but, as I stare out the bus window watching the sunny hills of San Francisco roll past this morning, the sight blurs into a snowy night in New Jersey. The lies and realizing how I’d been used. Then, the whole unhappy mess that followed.
We reach Wyatt’s preschool as I shove the memories away. Mrs. Edmonds waits for her charges at the doorway when my son remembers what today is. “Soccer, Mama!”
“Yes, Pop-Pop will take you to signups when he picks you up today.”
His smile could make the Earth stand still. Or at least, his mother’s heart. There’s so much joy in this child. He practically floats as he passes his teacher, giving her a quick high-five, and goes to put away his backpack.
He’ll be five soon and he’s been begging to play something. My stepdad Charlie is not only the dad who stepped up. He’s an amazing grandfather. But, he’s almost as bad as Wyatt is with his fervor for sports. Men. At least, soccer isn’t hockey.
Before I can leave, he rushes back for our goodbye. “Adios, Cinnamon Toast,” he whispers, grinning at me as if this small thing is the most sacred of ceremonies.
“Toodle-loo, Kangaroo,” I whisper back, swallowing the lump in my throat when he dashes off because it is sacred and it will not last.
Heading back to the Muni stop though, I feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. I love my son, our family and friends, my job and my life. No hockey-playing cheater of an ex or his frosty billionaire brother will ruin that.
∞∞∞
“Muffin break,” Tabitha sing-songs as she enters my office with the familiar box from Clancy’s an hour later.
“For every muffin you eat, I eat two,” I say with a sigh, bending over my work. Still doesn’t stop me from plucking out an apple cinnamon one and peeling back the wrapper.
“Impossible. And, it’s grains and energy,” she says as I close the panel on Botty, one of the greeter bots I’ve designed. I’ve been working on the interactive robots for the new hockey arena for months. It’s not my typical task but the Fog wanted something special to boast about when they host their opening preseason game of the inaugural season next month.
It’s not groundbreaking tech but it’s the first time I’d dealt with robotics since the team back in college – something else I lost when I fled Princeton for the West Coast – and I’m quite proud of them. The greeter bots, which will be located throughout the arena, can spout game and player statistics, make predictions for everything from face-offs to playoffs and direct visitors to the nearest restroom along with a dozen other things.
“They’re incredibly clever,” Tabitha says, admiring my hard work.
“Considering all the hours I’ve spent on them, I hope they’re clever enough for our client.”
She bats away my worries. “You doubt yourself too much. Speaking of our client, any word from Big Bird since you left the ball?”
I snort. “No, thank you for explaining things to Dean for me.”
I don’t like discussing my past with others, not even those I consider friends. I admitted it to Mr. Reynolds, the Chief Security Officer, when we started working on the arena together last year. He’s been wonderfully helpful about giving me everything I need to satisfy the client while keeping me clear of the actual job site. For a long while, it was just between the two of us.
But, if Ezra is going to start showing up at Golden Gate events, I need more backup. I know Tabitha and Dean will do whatever they can to protect us. I may also need a rock to hide under.
“I wish you’d told me sooner,” Tabitha says, softly and without censure.
“Told you my cheating ex and father of my son is a famous hockey player and his brother’s a billionaire who we’re currently contracted by? I hate thinking all this work is going to satisfy that man.”
“You said he was a jerk. Wish I’d thrown my drink in his face Saturday night.”
“He’s not always a jerk. Just to me.” But, there were times I didn’t think Ezra was such a jerk. In fact, there were times I liked him… until he made me cry that night.
“I don’t know if you want to hear this or not but he called Dean yesterday asking about you.”
“He what?!”
“He didn’t know who you were. He was just very curious about the beautiful Black woman in the hummingbird mask he was dancing with and hoped Dean knew you.”
“What did Dean say?”
“He acted like he didn’t know you. Told him you must’ve been the date of a donor. Was that alright?”
“Yes, I truly appreciate it.”
“Don’t sweat it. Do you think you’ll go out with Doug again?”
I shrug, heat creeping into my cheeks. “I agreed to a date this coming weekend.”
Tabitha presses her lips together. “I thought you said-”
“I know what I said but I don’t want to join a nunnery either.”
She cackles. “Lord, not a nunnery. If it’s just about sex, Dean’s brother owns that club…”
I shake my head. “I don’t think I could with a complete stranger.”
“Fine but a stranger might not cure you of your insomnia whenever he opens his mouth.” I hate how right she is.
“Doug didn’t complain about me leaving early Saturday. And, he’s polite. Amiable.” And doesn’t seem like a cheater.
“My doorman is polite and amiable. Doesn’t mean I’d want to date him.”
I fake a smile and take a bite of muffin, knowing she means well.
Mr. Adams joins us asking me if the presentation was sent over to Power Play this morning. I’m friends with his wife and he smiles when I answer it was, but Samuel still makes me nervous, not that he means to. All the partners except Dean make me nervous at times.
To be fair, I think Mr. Sorvino, the CEO, makes everyone nervous. And, speaking of the devil…
“Samuel, may I borrow Ms. Anderson for a moment?” Anthony Sorvino asks from the doorway.
I gulp down my last bite of muffin, grateful not to choke on it, and have no choice but to follow the big bad boss when Samuel agrees. His wife and sister swear Anthony’s a teddy bear under that growly exterior but, while he’s always been kind to me, I know his reputation as a different variety of bear, one who does not suffer fools or tolerate incompetence. I love my job and don’t want to do anything to risk losing it. I’ve got a mouth to feed besides my own.
“I’m sure you sent the materials off to Power Play already but I was wondering if you could give us a quick in-person presentation this morning of your robotics project.”
“Of course, sir,” I say, determined to ooze professionalism and calm. “I could fetch Botty.”
“That’s alright. Just the powerpoint will do. Samuel has been gushing over them in a manner he typically only reserves for his daughter. He’s very pleased with your work for us since you came on board and so am I,” he adds.
My heart gives a nervous but happy flip at his words. Finding respect in the often male-dominated field of tech is important to me, especially as a woman of color. For a few minutes, we walk together talking shop and my nerves abate.
He opens one of the large conference room doors and I hear a shrill squeak. Turning, I catch sight of one of the cleaning personnel, a young blonde woman, darting out the back of the room. Nice to know I’m not the only one Mr. Sorvino has that effect on.
His eyes narrow for a moment as he stares at the door she went through before he asks if there’s anything I require to make my presentation. “None. I can login from the computer at the podium and put it up on the display screen.” Though I have no idea why we need such a large and impressive room to do this. His office would suffice.
He nods with approval and says they’ll be right back. They who? Perhaps he wants Grace to take notes or he’s invited the other partners who haven’t seen my robots in action yet.
My phone buzzes with a text from my stepdad confirming the time and location of the soccer signups this afternoon. He reminds me he’s happy to take Wyatt to practice as often as I need him to. I give him a thumbs up and get a little gooey inside thinking of Wyatt’s excitement. I may have some reservations but I’ll admit I can’t wait to see him in his little soccer jersey.
I’ve logged in and pulled up the proper file for the presentation when the door opens again. “I’m nearly ready to…”
My words trail off when I realize this is not Mr. Sorvino. No, this devil in a blue suit is much, much worse. It’s Ezra. How the hell did he find me here?
My brain short-circuits but not enough to miss how good he looks in that tailored navy suit, how unfairly handsome he is with no bird mask in the way or how equally stunned he is to see me.
“Callie?” he rasps and my body responds at once. I’d forgotten that, how whenever he would say my name in that raspy way it would make my nipples tighten. I always felt guilty for it back when I was dating his brother even though it was an involuntary response.
I see Dean racing through the open door with Mr. Sorvino on his heels a moment later, both looking concerned. Guess my secret got spread a little further. But, that won’t spare me from this confrontation.
What do I do? What do I say?
“I apologize, Ms. Anderson…” Mr. Sorvino begins.
“Anderson?” Ezra says sharply, cutting in. “Since when are you an Anderson?”
I hate that arrogant tone, the annoyed look in his eyes, the one that shouts ‘how dare you take your stepfather’s last name without my permission.’
I hate remembering the words he last said to me all those years ago. I was so blind when it came to Chase but Ezra’s opinion was evident from the start.
I hate that I still find him attractive after everything.
I need to keep the upper hand as long as I can until I’m able to run. Unfortunately, I choose a ploy only the colossally stupid or desperate would. “I’m sorry, sir. Have we met?” Yikes. He’ll never believe I don’t remember him.