Chapter 6
C HRIS PLACED THE phone on the receiver then stood from his desk and removed his glasses before wiping his face clean of the frustration from the day. It was only two thirty in the afternoon, an uncommonly early time for him to consider ending his day compared to the hours he kept while in New York. However, it was the summer, they were in the Shores, and he had promised his dad a round of golf… and Carrah Andrews had got so deep beneath his skin, until he found it hard to focus.
He glanced down at the manila folder on his desk labeled SERAPHINA CHARLES . He wouldn’t bother to further review any of its contents. They were unimportant and a waste of his time just like Carrah had been in his office. Although if he was completely honest, a small part of him was curious to know the details of what was inside. What had she written to garner the attention of Hurston House? They were the mack daddy of publishing houses and everyone in the entertainment industry longed to have a client affiliated with them. Perhaps Carrah knew that, too, and maybe that was why she went out of her way to put them both through a very avoidable awkward moment.
In the end, it didn’t matter. He was a Chennault and she was an Andrews. He held on to that thought, grabbed his work bag, and picked up the folder. On his way out he tossed it on Shayla’s desk.
“Did you even look at it?” she questioned, forcing him to acknowledge the anger he was desperate to be rid of.
“No.” He stopped walking to the door and faced her. “Nothing within that folder will make me reconsider.”
Shayla shook her head while displaying a grin that mocked his decision. “So you and Ms. Charles have history? Is she an ex?”
Chris pondered her question for a minute. He did have history with Carrah, only it was not in a good way. All their lives had been spent avoiding each other in honor of the old grudge that had begun with their grandfathers. The competition between their families’ companies put them at odds in the business world. Then there was the power struggle between their mothers for committee chair positions or board service for various organizations in Louisiana. Summers were always hard since friends were forced to choose who to hang with. Some of the bitterness subsided with age as they formed cliques, and then of course, with his mother’s passing, but it never fully went away.
“Her name isn’t Seraphina Charles. It’s Carrah Andrews. And no, she’s not an ex. Our families are longtime business rivals.”
“Oh.” Shayla recoiled a little. “I, uh… I assum—sorry.”
Chris cocked a brow, watching as his trusted assistant quickly put her head down. “Assumed what?” Shayla glanced up, pressing her lips, and shook her head, but Chris wanted to know how she had jumped to that conclusion. In the years Shayla had served as his assistant, she’d ordered a handful of flowers and gifts. Maybe set a dinner reservation or acquired tickets to a basketball game for him to have a night on the town with a woman.
However, he had never paraded any of them in his professional space. He was not the type to publicly display his personal life for the world to see. Therefore, how could Shayla truly assume anything? He had to know. “Can you please answer me?”
Shayla exhaled. “She just seems like the kind of woman you would date.”
His gaze narrowed upon her before he moved back to her desk. He was even more intrigued by this observation. “Explain.”
“First, the woman is beyond gorgeous. She’s stylish, seemingly smart, and she has that air about her like you.”
“An air,” he questioned, folding his arms, definitely wanting to hear more of how Shayla perceived his personality and taste in women.
“Yeah, you know, kinda stuck up but not. Refined and elegant, yet still a little down to earth. She seems more your type than—” She cleared her throat and looked back down to the folder on her desk.
“Than Heather?” He stopped at the front of her area and rested his elbow on the countertop.
Her head popped up, and they gave each other a look of knowing. “You said it.”
They both chuckled. Chris relaxed a little more than usual and then decided to confide in Shayla because she had long earned his trust. He gave her the quick and dirty version of Heather’s pop-up visit and the ultimatum. She was the sounding board he didn’t know he needed. “Well, for the record, we broke up.”
“I saw this coming after the Songbird premiere dinner.” She sighed while Chris began thinking back to four months ago. He’d been invited to Los Angeles by a client to attend a celebratory dinner for the launch of his new television show, for which Chris had negotiated a stellar contract. By coincidence, Heather booked a gig the same weekend in Los Angeles and then crashed the dinner. “She wanted more than you could or would give her. No breakup is easy though. Are you okay? You dated her the longest.”
“Better, actually. It will be easier to focus on the new office.” Instead of dodging marriage demands, he thought to himself.
“And you’re really not going to take on Ms. Char—I mean Ms. Andrews?”
He straightened from the counter and firmed the grip on his bag. “That’s not good for business. Now, I’ve got to get going before I’m late for tee time with my old man.”
Chris disregarded the disappointment on Shayla’s face as they exchanged goodbyes. He restarted to the exit, but before he could leave, he had to ask one last question. She always gave it to him straight even when she didn’t agree. “Shayla, am I an asshole?”
She smiled. “Did she call you that?”
Chris nodded.
Shayla cackled, slapping her desk, and then she bent over, covering her mouth. “I knew I liked her,” she managed to get out despite the laughter clogging her voice. Her hysterics continued a few more seconds before he crossed his arms, demanding an answer.
She stood upright. Her face tightened to match the seriousness of his. “Umm, well, uh… not to me. You can be, though, especially when you’re negotiating.”
“The fact you find it funny is concerning.” He managed his annoyance and then left the office for the day.
The next twenty minutes Chris took his time, driving along the winding road leading to the outskirts of town. New York and Los Angeles traffic was never this easy, and neither city could compete with the beauty of the Florida countryside. On one side of the road was the lake, nestled against the hills rising to the east. The other side was anchored with canopied oaks full of Spanish moss.
He began to chuckle as he recalled times as a child when he and his friends would climb the massive trees or simply pull moss from the branches and put it in water to watch it turn green. Those were simpler times, full of good memories. His soul settled and he took a deep breath, finding appreciation in the life he always found when he visited the Shores.
Picturesque rural landscapes faded away and the vast golf course of Dogwood Country Club began unfurling. Chris turned off the highway, and rolled over the cobblestone bridge into the entrance of the members-only facility. Irony was never lost on the fact that when his great-grandparents first discovered the Shores, they were denied membership into the prestigious club because of the color of their skin.
Not an uncommon practice for Black people to be turned away back then, but today as he parked and then walked up the steps to the main building, he was given salutations that he wished his great-grandparents could’ve experienced. Although they may not agree with the exclusivity that was in practice since they had endured segregation of space not just by race but also complexion.
Chris suspended the past, then quickly ducked inside and started toward the men’s locker room. He checked his watch and picked up the pace. He wasn’t in the mood to endure his father complaining about missing tee time, which would open the door for him to start lecturing on the temporary office for the summer, family legacy, and settling down.
“Hey, Chris!” The bubbly feminine voice he’d tried to reach since this morning called to him. He backtracked a few steps then turned to see Ava waving. Instead of her signature ripped blue jeans and plain T-shirt with two cameras hanging around her neck, she had conformed to club standards and was adorned in a collared shirt that matched her flower-patterned jogger shorts. Her racquet seemed more like a prop, and the only thing that told him she wasn’t just at the club for tea or a cocktail.
“Aves! I messaged you earlier.” He went and hugged her. “I’d heard you were finally back in town? Surprised to see you at the Wood. Thought this place was too bourgeois for you.”
“The ball is in a few days. I couldn’t miss.” She giggled as he released her from his embrace. “As for this place”—she rolled her eyes—“I was dragged here. You said you messaged me?”
“Yeah, earlier.” He cleared his throat. He understood that she had no knowledge of Carrah’s machinations. “Don’t worry about it now. I got it resolved.”
Her hand went to her chest. “Thank God. Super sorry. I dropped my phone last night and cracked the screen. It’s being repaired n—”
“Ava, you ready?” Carrah called, interrupting their conversation as she emerged from the ladies’ locker room adjusting the pleats of her bright white tennis skirt. At the Dogwood, fashion and etiquette went hand in hand, and a girl like Carrah would never miss a chance to honor the old ways of dressing in crisp whites for tennis. She defined prestige and embodied a confident attitude that commanded the hallways of the club. It was the very same cockiness that let her assume she and Chris could enter into a business arrangement after years of sitting on opposite sides of church.
When she finally looked up, her eyes locked with his. “Chris,” she snipped and came to an abrupt stop.
Ava cleared her throat. “Be nice, Carrah,” she mumbled.
Chris clenched his teeth together and felt his jaw tighten. It did nothing to counteract the way his temper roared to life. No one should have to tell a grown-ass, well-brought-up woman to be nice. Especially one who had been in his office earlier begging for help.
“I’m used to it.” He shrugged, pretending that she wasn’t under his skin while prying his eyes away from Carrah, and he focused back on Ava. “Anyway, Belfast, how was it? You wrapped up production early.”
“For once,” she gushed. “I trekked over to the Dark Hedges and then Giants Causeway like you recommended. It was breathtaking even for me, and I’ve seen a lot of places in this gig. I’ll admit I still haven’t found a place that compares to here.”
“I was literally thinking the same on my ride over here from downtown,” he confessed.
Ava nodded. “Yeah, but everything was good. I think my work may have led to a director of photography role on an indie film. Of course, my agent will be sending the contract over to you if that happens. So keep fingers crossed.”
Chris held up his hand and crossed his fingers. His smile went flat as out of the corner of his eye he saw Carrah fold her arms and pout as though he was inconveniencing her. She always did this whenever they were in a space vying for the attention of the friends they shared.
“I’m going to the courts,” Carrah announced.
Chris glanced over and watched as she placed the racquet bag on her shoulder and began walking in the opposite direction. “Best of luck, Seraphina,” he called, unable to resist himself from taking a dig at her.
“Seraphina?” Ava asked, whipping her head from Chris to Carrah, who became still. “Who’s that?”
He could’ve—should’ve—outed her. She deserved it. Instead he tilted his head at Carrah. “I’ll let her tell you.”
Carrah cut her eyes back at Chris. She balled her fists, turned on her heel, and stormed out the door. She refused to play his game, because if she had, she might’ve gone to where he stood and slapped the smug expression from his face.
Once outside, she took in the fresh lake air. This was all her fault. Had she just accepted the life she was supposed to lead… or disregarded ancient family advice of always having a legal eagle review important documents and signed the contract from Hurston House, she would’ve never needed to go to his office.
“What was that all about?” Ava’s voice pulled her from a downward spiral.
Carrah looked up from the ground to her friend and then restarted her journey along the path lined with fuchsia bougainvillea until they stopped at the door of the reserved court. It was getting hard to pretend that the life she led and the one she wanted were doomed to collide and leave her damaged.
Make Mama happy. Make Daddy proud. Work by your siblings’ side because nothing is more important than seeing Noir survive.
“Nothing.” She faked a smile, and again recited the mantra that had been repeated to her a thousand times. Only this time it didn’t boost her confidence. In fact, their little family saying hadn’t helped in a while. If anything, it reminded her that she wasn’t the priority. “Ava, you know Chris and I have never really gotten along.”
Ava sighed. “True, except that was different. I know your families have not so good history. But the both of you are usually a bit more nonchalant in honoring that whole coexist-from-a-distance philosophy. That back there was trending intense. And who the hell is Seraphina?”
Carrah gazed everywhere, omitting Ava’s direction. She wasn’t sure if she could stare her friend in the face and tell her that she’d lied and manipulated Chris’s assistant by using Ava’s name and client relationship to get an appointment with him, or that it seemed like all the chemistry degrees meant nothing anymore. Of course, there was also the pride she possessed that refused to let anyone, especially a free spirit like Ava, see her cowering to family loyalties instead of chasing her own ambitions.
Only, she and Ava had been friends since they could ride tricycles. Ava wouldn’t stop asking. Maybe it was better out than in.
“Promise me you won’t tell anyone?” Ava dropped her hand from the court door. “Not Reese, Peyton, or Quinn.”
“Ohh, this sounds juicy.” Ava stalked her, scanning over Carrah before her face went through a myriad of emotions, which started scrunched and ended with a dropped jaw. “Wait! Did you and Chris… umm… did y’all bump uglies?”
Carrah threw her hand over Ava’s mouth. “Why are you being so loud? You want the whole club to hear?” Carrah lowered her hand to see a silly grin all over Ava’s face. “No, that’s not something we would ever do!” The thought made her hot all over. She had never been allowed to view Chris in that way and she surely wouldn’t start now. He’d already dismissed her and moments ago decided ridicule was a fitting punishment for daring to ask him for help. “Why would that be your first thought?”
Ava reached for Carrah’s arm to prevent her from moving away. “Because y’all were being weird. He’s never goaded you and you’ve done far worse.”
“He’s upset because of what I did today, and honestly, I don’t know if I blame him.” Carrah sighed then gestured to an empty bench that was a few feet away.
For a few minutes they sat in silence. Carrah weighed her words. What could she… or should she say without being judged? Confessing that her earlier manipulation was why Chris antagonized her was shameful.
Worse was knowing that she’d been wrong all those years ago when she’d negatively criticized Ava’s decision to follow her dreams and become a photographer. Carrah’s young nineteen-year-old mind had determined snapping pics wasn’t as viable a career as becoming a chemist. She now knew better.
The friend sitting next to her had always wanted to travel the world and take pictures of breathtaking landscapes. Ava did it for a living and loved being on movie sets in remote locations across the globe, where she captured the imagery that helped tell stories viewed on the big screen. Ava had conquered her dreams. Too bad Carrah hadn’t realized hers until now.
“What happens to a dream deferred?” Carrah whispered.
“Are you asking me or reciting Hughes?” Ava replied.
Carrah dropped her racquet bag and slumped in the bench, still refusing to make eye contact. “Mine was put on hold and I didn’t even know it. I was so busy fulfilling everyone else’s that I forgot about my own until my mother got sick.” She finally looked over to Ava, who was already staring at her.
It was clear Ava didn’t know how to respond. Carrah didn’t know if she expected her to or not, so she continued. “We didn’t know if she would make it. That birthday party meant more than anyone knows, and to cope with it all, a therapist suggested journaling.”
“Oh my God, Carrah.” Ava grabbed her hand and held it tight. “Why are you just now saying something? I had no idea Ms. Camille was sick.”
Carrah released a small, patronizing smile. “You’ve lived alongside this circle long enough to know the answer.”
Ava nodded. “Pride will always come before the fall, as my father says.” It was Carrah’s turn to nod before she responded with a hushed yes. “Did the journaling help?”
“It did. I escaped from the reality of my mother facing death. Most important, I stopped focusing on what everyone else wanted from me and rediscovered how much I love writing.” Carrah felt her cheeks fill as genuine happiness coursed through her veins. “One night after I’d tucked Mom into bed, I went to my computer and realized that I’d written something like eighty thousand words.”
“Serious!”
“As a damn heart attack.” Carrah giggled. “A few women in my support group that I formed bonds with while caring for Mom read my journal-slash-story and suggested I submit it to this little contest. It was meant for me to get feedback. Next thing I know, an editor from this publishing house wants to acquire my story.”
Ava let go of her hand and hugged Carrah tight. A deep-seated joy unlike anything Carrah had ever experienced stirred within her hearing Ava’s congratulatory words. There had not been anything in a long time to make her feel so full, but writing did. The hope and satisfaction she’d discovered in creating a happily ever after was the main reason Chris’s rejection stung so much. It felt like he was taking something away from her when the truth was he owed her nothing.
Ava released Carrah. She grabbed her shoulders, scanning her a dozen times. Her smile slowly fell. “I think I know what happened. You went to Chris for help and he said no because of all the family drama?”
The hope she’d held on to last night while plotting to visit his office floated into the void. “Yeah, something like that,” she confessed. “Only I lied, said my name was Seraphina Charles, and that you referred me. He was totally caught off guard.”
“Oh shit.” Carrah nodded in agreement of Ava’s words. “He’s the consummate professional. The moves he’s made in the industry at such a young age dictate as much. Now I see why he was so indifferent toward you.” Ava shook her head and stood. “Well, it’s your fault. Why didn’t you say something to me sooner instead of using my name to manipulate him?”
Carrah jumped to her feet. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked or told you last night when everyone was singing his praises. I didn’t know how.”
“Because your family doesn’t like his? You’ve got a lot of nerve, Carrah.”
“Our families don’t like each other… You’re taking his side? Wow, I thought you were my friend.”
“I’m friends with both of you. Despite the fact that I’ve seen you go in the opposite direction of him or avoid being out with everyone because he’s there. I also heard he attempted to be nice to you when y’all went out on Dunc’s boat, but you remained antisocial. Whatever the grudge is between your families, you seem to carry it harder than he does.”
“That’s not true!”
“It is, and you know it. And since we’re friends, I will say this to you honestly. I’m proud you found the courage to rediscover who you are and write your story. However, you don’t deserve his help.” Ava turned from Carrah and went to the court. “Come on. Get off your entitled butt, so I can beat it.”
Carrah lifted her head as is if the shame suffocating her didn’t exist. “You really still want to play? You seem mad at me.”
“Humph.” Ava rolled her eyes then came back to the bench and pulled Carrah up. “Me being upset over you being your typical spoiled brat self does nothing to help this situation. Had the both of you known each other better, what you did wouldn’t have upset him so much and how he reacted wouldn’t have you in your feelings.”
“Perhaps, but I’m in no condition to play you right now. Let alone win.” Carrah winked.
“Precisely why we should play.” They both giggled, breaking down the tension that had formed around them. “I’ve never beat you and this may be my only chance.”
“Fine, but if I beat you, no whining.” Carrah unzipped her bag and removed the racquet. She twirled it in the air as she stepped onto the court. “I’m sorry for using your name to gain access to Chris in his professional space.”
“Don’t apologize to me,” Ava said over her shoulder as she went to her side of the court. “Say sorry to him. My guess is you called him some mean name or said something spiteful when you didn’t get your way after showing up to his office and expecting years of family drama to be brushed under the table for your benefit.”
Carrah offered no reply. She had done exactly what Ava said, and had never contemplated giving Chris an apology until now.
“I know you too well, Carrah Andrews,” her friend teased. “Now, serve the ball, and apologize later. You owe him that much.”