Chapter Two #2
“Get your mind out of the gutter,” April said with a laugh. “Damien and I went to high school together. We’ve been friends for years.”
“So you’re just friends?”
“Just friends,” April said. “Nothing more.”
She would ignore the pang of disappointment that attempted to seep into her skin.
“Awesome,” Nicole said. “That means you wouldn’t have a problem introducing me to him.”
“Believe me, the one thing Damien isn’t looking for right now is to be introduced to a woman. In fact, that’s the exact opposite of what he wants.”
“Don’t tell me he’s gay,” Nicole said in a shocked voice.
April barked out a laugh. “No, he isn’t. He just has no interest in dating right now.”
“So he came to see you? Yikes.”
“I already told you that we’re friends. There’s no reason for me to be upset or offended.”
So what if most women would be offended if a handsome, sought-after bachelor called on them because they were not interested in getting involved with anyone. She was bigger than that, wasn’t she?
No. No, she was not.
But she would save the wall-kicking and raging at the ceiling for tonight, when she was in the sanctuary of her own home with copious amounts of chocolate, wine and Nurse Jackie binge watching to keep her company.
“Whatever you say,” Nicole said. “Oh, I’m doubling up on my hip-hop dance class tomorrow because a bunch of the kids are going to Saint Michael’s Youth Day thing on Friday.”
“Oh, that’s this weekend?”
“Yeah, there’s a bus bringing them over to the Northshore.”
“Hi, ladies.” LaDonna stuck her head in the door. “I heard Damien Alexander stopped in today. Is he still here?”
April threw her hands in the air. “Oh, for crying out loud. Did someone send out a group text as soon as he walked through the door?”
“It was a Snapchat video,” LaDonna said, coming into the room. “Get with the times.”
“I don’t even know what Snapchat is,” April said. She barely remembered to check her Facebook page. “But, to answer your question, no, Damien isn’t here. He had to get back to his office. He was only here because he wanted to ask a favor of me.”
“I’m sorry I missed seeing him,” LaDonna said. “I would have liked to thank him personally for his donation last year.”
“Too bad you missed it. He was something to see,” Nicole said, fanning herself.
April rolled her eyes. “Don’t you have to go break Simeon’s heart again?”
“Hey,” Nicole said with affront. “It’s not my fault he’s still trying even after I told him I wasn’t interested.”
“Maybe if you weren’t giving him all these mixed signals,” April said.
“I do not!”
“Yes, you do,” April and LaDonna said at the same time.
“Case in point, the meeting at my house the other night,” April said. “I know my living room isn’t big, but don’t you think you could have found somewhere else to sit? There was no need for you to plant your behind right next to him on the floor.”
Nicole’s lips scrunched up in a frown. “Fine. No more mixed signals. But it shouldn’t count if I don’t even realize I’m doing it.”
LaDonna put a hand up. “I’m tired of this conversation. Back to Damien Alexander. How well do you know him?” she asked April.
“Well enough. We went to high school together. I used to tutor him in English.”
LaDonna perched her hip on the desk. “This may be just wishful thinking on my part, but do you think there’s any chance you can get him to join us here at A Fresh Start?”
“As in...?”
“As in volunteering,” LaDonna said.
April shook her head. “He has a business to run. He can’t—”
“I know he’s busy,” LaDonna said, cutting her off. “And I’m not talking about full-time, everyday volunteering. I’m talking about an hour a week, maybe on Saturday mornings.
“I’ve been reading all these blogs about ways to increase your chances of winning a grant, and having a well-rounded program seems to be key.
We have a nice assortment of recreational programs for the kids, but think of how it would look on our grant application if we had a prominent businessman teaching the kids about money management. ”
“A money management class?”
“Think about it,” LaDonna said. “We’re teaching them job skills with the new café and there are a number of the older kids who have part-time jobs this summer. But many of them don’t know anything about savings or taxes. These are life skills.”
April couldn’t deny that it was definitely needed.
Just yesterday she’d had to explain what FICA was to a group of kids who were comparing their first pay stubs.
Rashad Parker said he’d borrowed money to buy a new video game from his uncle based on his hourly wage, not realizing that he wouldn’t get the entire amount in his paycheck.
This foray into the work world was a first for many of the kids there. They had a lot to learn, and Damien was well equipped to teach them.
But to convince Damien to come out to the Ninth Ward on a weekly basis?
April still couldn’t believe he’d made the trek to this part of town this morning.
He may have purchased land here, but she knew better than to think it would change his feelings about their old neighborhood.
Damien had deep-rooted disdain for this area, and for good reason.
These streets had taken an awful toll on his family.
She’d tried to explain to him over the two years since they’d both returned to New Orleans that this neighborhood had changed for the better, yet it was as if he suddenly lost his hearing whenever she started.
He supported her efforts to make a difference in the lives of the kids who lived here; however, donating money seemed to be the extent of what he was willing to do.
April doubted she could ever convince Damien to voluntarily spend time here.
Unless...
A smile tipped up the corners of April’s lips. Why hadn’t she thought of this before?
“Give me a day or two, ladies. I just might have the perfect way to convince Damien Alexander to volunteer at A Fresh Start.”
* * *
April made a left onto South Peters and then a quick right, driving up to the towering parking garage at One Canal Place.
She knew Alexander Properties was located in the high-rise at the base of Canal Street, but it wasn’t until she’d had to look it up on Google to find the suite number that it occurred to April that, in the two years since Damien moved his real estate firm from Houston to New Orleans, she hadn’t once visited his office.
High-end retailers, the ones she used to patronize back when she played some of the most prestigious music halls in the world and was required to wear ball gowns to work, occupied the first two floors of the building. April much preferred her current dress code.
The elevator bank that led to the attached office building was packed with business-attired people all staring intently at the descending numbers above the elevator doors.
April would have taken the stairs if Damien weren’t on the very top floor.
Although, considering the amount of people waiting for the elevator, it would probably take the same amount of time to reach his office.
After seeing three elevators come and go before she could finally squeeze into one, April still had to wait through more than a dozen stops as they ascended to the thirty-first floor.
She should be grateful for the long trek to Damien’s office.
It gave her time to mull over the proposition she would soon present to him.
April was fully prepared for Damien to send her marching out of his office—figuratively, at least. Even though he said he didn’t want to go the ex-girlfriend route, she knew he had his pick of other women he could call on to accompany him to events this summer.
But she’d sensed desperation in his eyes when he’d come to see her at A Fresh Start this morning. Something in the way he’d pleaded with her said that this went deeper than just having a woman on his arm. April planned to make that desperation work to her advantage.
She was the elevator’s sole occupant by the time it arrived on the top floor.
She made her way down the hallway to the suite bearing the Alexander Properties logo, with the capital A and P overlapping.
April allowed herself to indulge in a moment of pride.
She’d helped Damien pick this logo five years ago, when he branched off from the national real estate firm he’d worked for since graduating from college and started his own company.
The door opened before she could reach for the handle, and a plump Melissa McCarthy lookalike with hot-pink horn-rimmed glasses and bright red lipstick came out.
“Oh, hello there,” she greeted. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, I’m here to see Damien Alexander,” April said.
The woman’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, and it occurred to April that this office might have experienced an uptick in women showing up at the door to see Damien since the release of that top ten bachelors article.
“Oh!” The woman snapped her fingers. “Now I remember who you are! You’re on that magazine cover.”
April’s head jerked back in surprise. “Me?”
“Yeah. You’re the cellist. Ms. Knight, right?”
“Yes. April,” she said.
The woman held out her hand. “I’m Clarissa, the office manager here. You were on the cover of some classical-music magazine a few years back. Damien has a copy he keeps on the credenza in his office.”
April’s heart skipped a beat. An array of emotions cascaded through her at the thought of Damien holding on to a copy of the obscure magazine she’d been featured in years ago. She didn’t realize he’d even run across it, seeing as only true classical music devotees normally read it.
Clarissa held up a finger. “Give me just one sec.” She looked past April. “Hi, Ryan.”
A young blond guy in his early twenties walked toward them, a bicycle helmet tucked under one arm and a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. Right Away Courier Services was embroidered across the front flap.
Clarissa signed the form attached to a clipboard, then took the sealed envelope that was handed to her. “Thanks, Ryan. I’ll see you again next week.”