Love Won't Let Me Wait Read online

  ROD HARLEY

  LOVE WON’T LET ME WAIT

  Published By:

  Maasai Publishing

  P.O. Box 6911

  Brandon, Fl 33508

  Rod Harley

  (813)-784-5617

  [email protected]

  Copyright © Rod Harley, 2015

  All Rights Reserved

  Printed in the United States of America

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 0-9721340-0-X

  Second Edition

  Cover Art by Jay Williams

  For those who inspire me

  Sodden Dreams

  I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. The steamy profile of her body summoned me. I stared at her through the hanging bathroom doors. I was transfixed by the blurred silhouette of her body distorted by the water logged glass shower door. I lay on the bed fully naked and semi-erect; eagerly anticipating the moment she’d be out of the shower, wet, making her way to my bed. Aching, begging, longing for me to taste of every glistening bead of wetness her toned figure tendered. She’d offer and I’d eagerly quench my thirst with every available drop.

  The water was off now. The last dregs of the liquid symphony playing a fading snare on the tiled shower floor. Any minute now. I reached down and grabbed the shaft of my now fully engorged member. All systems were a go. The shower door began to slowly swing open. I exhaled in anticipation of the coming portrait. First a foot, followed by a long slender leg, hips, and half a secret. I’m going to tear that shit up.

  She slowly emerged from the steam filled shower, half way to revealing her raw beauty. Suddenly I was awakened from my promising sex filled dream by the loud, pulsating ring of my bedside phone. Every time the damn thing rang it scared me half to death. For the one-hundredth time I made a mental note to turn down the volume on the ringer.

  I rubbed the sleep and images of my now faded sexual partner from my eyes and glanced at my Wittnauer wristwatch placed on the nightstand next to my bed, 6:10 am. I rolled over and reached for the receiver. Normally I would check the caller ID to confirm that I wanted to accept the call, but in this instance an unnecessary step. I was cognizant of who the person on the other end would be.

  “Hello,” I moaned, in pretense as if awakened by the call.

  “Wake up, Booby, you’re going to be late for work,” replied the voice on the other end.

  “Damn, Toya, do you have to call and wake me every morning three hours before I have to be to work?” I feigned annoyance at her wake up calls, but in truth I looked forward to them. Besides, I was usually awake by the time she called and merely pretended to be asleep. If she knew I was already awake she might stop calling, and like I said I look forward to her calls.

  “Negro, someone has to make sure you get to work on time. I don’t make enough money to support the both of us and those hoochies you talk to are not going to pay your bills.” She habitually referred to the women I dated as hoochies. I could be involved with a blue blooded heiress and to Toya she would still be a hoochie.

  “Toya, you make enough money for you, me, and whatever broke ass man you’re dealing with right now.”

  Latoya Lebeaux is a partner in one of the most prestigious law firms in the country. Toya and I grew up together in the Virgin Islands. We lived next door to each other for the first eleven years of our lives. During that time, we spent just about every day together. We even experimented some as adolescents, but Toya was a tomboy and our relationship was more like that of a brother and sister.

  “Are we still on for lunch today?” Toya’s voice conveyed her anticipation of our scheduled lunch date. I yawned.

  “I haven’t even had breakfast yet. Hell let me get out of bed before you start trying to feed me.”

  “Well, if I don’t make sure you eat you’ll starve to death. You need to find a woman who can cook for you.”

  “Now why would I need a woman who can cook when I have you?”

  “Kalem Kingsley, are we still on for lunch or what? You promised I could meet Shannon today.” Toya only referred to me by my full name when trying to convey the importance of whatever followed. In casual reference she favored the charming intimacy of my childhood nickname, Booby. It seemed as if everyone I know chooses to ignore my given name and instead refer to me by one of my many monikers. Shannon and I had been dating for the past five months and Toya was eager to make her acquaintance.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, just don’t embarrass me, you know how you do.”

  “Hey, I can’t help it if the women you date have no confidence and are intimidated by my charm.”

  “It’s not your charm that I’m worried about it’s your slick ass comments.”

  “I promise I’ll be nice,” Toya replied in a futile attempt to convey sincerity. It was apparent that she didn’t mean a word of it.

  “Well, you’ll get your chance today. Let’s meet at Emeralds at twelve-thirty.”

  “I’ll be there, and make sure your little hoochie friend isn’t late. I don’t wait on females.”

  “Whatever! I’ll see you later.”

  Chapter 2

  It was now six thirty-five a.m. Monday morning, and I lay in bed engulfed by the comfort of my silk bed sheets, listening to the soothing chorus of raindrops gently stroking the windowpane next to my bed. Something about the rain, it has a relaxing effect on me. My thoughts are exponentially lucid against a backdrop of cascading precipitation.

  Despite the desire to remain in bed I summoned the will to pull myself up and take the agonizingly mundane stroll into the bathroom. After taking a hot shower and shaving my head and face I quickly dressed, grabbed my briefcase, and rushed out of the door. While on my way out to the parking garage my cell phone started ringing. A quick glance at the Shannon ID informed me that it was her calling. I referred to the caller ID function on my phone as the Shannon ID because of how often her number appeared on screen. I didn’t mind though. Although I couldn’t quite declare that I loved her, I enjoyed the time we spent together and cared for her a great deal. And for me that was saying a lot. My motto towards women at that time was: “Don’t love them. Don’t trust them.” I even had it tattooed on my shoulder.

  “Hello,” I answered in a low seductive voice.

  “Hi, baby, I miss you.” Shannon’s voice was soft and soothing like a cool ocean breeze charming the stifling heat of a Florida summer.

  “I miss you too, baby, are we still on for lunch?”

  “Hell yes, I wouldn’t miss this chance to meet Toya for the world. I’ve been looking forward to this.”

  “I bet you have. What’s your day looking like?” I asked trying to evade another discussion about my friendship with Toya. Shannon giggled. Clear recognition of my obvious attempt at sedition.

  “I have a couple of reports to do, but don’t worry, I’ll find the time to meet you for lunch.” I laughed. “Where are we going to meet?” I cleared my throat.

  “Emeralds at twelve-thirty.”

  “Damn, Kalem, you know I don’t like to eat there.” I was fully aware of the contempt that would without a doubt accompany my choice of restaurant. Shannon was up
set about the service she’d received during a girl’s night out with a group of friends from back home. Apparently they left the waitress a penny tip, and a letter explaining their actions as a consequence of the sub-par service they received. I viewed their actions as a tacky retort but I had the good sense to keep my opinion to myself. My hope is for the waitress in question to be a historical footnote in Emerald’s employment archives. Because, if like Shannon, the waitress is one to cling to grudges we could find ourselves dining under the most unfortunate of circumstances. An unsolicited “house special” would no doubt be a part of our experience.

  “Baby I know, but I let Toya pick the restaurant and she wanted to go to Emeralds.” Shannon exhaled her displeasure. “Come on, just this one time. Do it for me pleeeease.” She relented.

  “Okay, but only because I love you.” I smiled.

  “Thank you, baby and I love you too.” I frequently told her that I loved her but in truth my feelings were less exact. I did have strong feelings for her; I just wasn’t definite whether those feelings equated to being in love.

  “You’re welcome. But you owe me big time for this one.” I laughed. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

  “Later, baby.”

  As with everything else I made a point to get to work a little early. Being on time is a major pet peeve of mine. I usually arrived thirty minutes before anyone else in the office.

  Early arrival provided an opportunity to take note of which of my employees arrived to work on time and which were late. The knowledge that the boss is at the office on time every morning provides major motivation for an employee to be punctual.

  I sat in my office surveying the downtown Charlotte skyline and watched the sun do a slow creep over the buildings. I leaned back in my chair immersed in thoughts of my days as a kid growing up in the Virgin Islands. I thought of Toya and me sitting at the bus stop awaiting the arrival of the school bus. We never talked much in the morning; we just sat staring at the scenery, watching the sun rise over the mountains. I thought of how much I enjoyed spending those quiet moments with her. During those moments it was as if time stood still. It seemed like the universe was in perfect order. I was snatched off of memory lane by a knock at my office door. I turned in my chair to see Debbie, my secretary, leaning through the doorway.

  “Good morning, Mr. Kingsley, were you sleeping?”

  “Good morning, Debbie. No, I was just taking in the view, come in.” Debbie strolled through the doorway. She smiled at me, flashing her perfectly straight and pearly white teeth. I always assumed that she’d had some corrective work done but she insisted she hadn’t so I abandoned that line of inquiry. Still, I have never seen someone with a set of choppers like Debbie’s. At least not without having had some work done.

  Debbie wore a beige pant suit consistent with the parade of wide-ranging colored outfits she donned on a daily basis. I would sometimes tease my girlfriends when introducing them to Debbie by saying things like; “I hope you look this good when you get to be her age.” I’d say it as if in jest, but I’d mean every word of it.

  “I just wanted to remind you of your nine-thirty meeting with Mr. Calango,” Debbie informed me. Calango was my biggest client and a personal friend.

  “Thanks, Debbie. Would you please bring me the files on Intellica.”

  “I have them right here, and here is your coffee.” Debbie made running my business much easier. She is always one step ahead of me.

  Debbie is a dark-skinned, petite woman who does not look to be anywhere near the fifty-three years that she is. She is married and has two children both in college. She started working for me during my second year on my own. Tina, my first secretary had just left to return to school and finish up her degree. Not that Tina wasn’t a good secretary, but comparing her to Debbie is like comparing a Rolls Royce to a Yugo. Debbie played a major role in my success and I made sure her paycheck reflected it.

  Calango was responsible for my ending up in Charlotte after graduate school. He’s been a mentor of sorts.

  It was about three weeks before graduation from my MBA program. I had just left a job fair at the Radisson Twin Towers Hotel in Orlando, where some of the biggest companies in the area were supposedly recruiting minorities for entry-level management positions. After sitting through the customary bullshit from some major corporations, and a few minor ones as well; I had become frustrated and walked across the street to the Orlando Alehouse. I was sipping on a Heineken when I struck up a conversation with Calango.

  He was seated at the barstool next to me. We got to talking and I confided my frustration with the job search. He gave me a business card and told me to give him a call after graduation. I kept the card, despite dismissing his overture as hollow. I was well aware of the tendency for people to make promises that they have no intention of keeping and frequently didn’t even remember while sitting around the bar drinking. I wasn’t even sure if the nerdy, balding, pale, little guy could deliver even if he did want to give me a job. For all I knew he was just some drunk.

  I didn’t call him until about two weeks after graduation. I hadn’t received any job offers worth mentioning and I figured what the hell, what do I have to lose right? Well to make a long story short, there I was three weeks later, on the highway headed to Charlotte with all of my belongings packed in a U-Haul trailer hitched to my Ford Ranger.

  Six months later I was sitting in my office when Calango walked in and asked if we could talk. My initial though was of having screwed up somehow and impending termination. I was bemused when Calango began to endorse my potential and insisted I was wasting my time working for him.

  “You should be in business for yourself,” he said. I remember thinking: this must be his way of getting rid of my ass without having to actually fire me.

  “I’ve only been doing this for six months; I don’t have the experience or the contacts to make it on my own.” He leaned in and gave me this serious look like a father would give a son when preparing to unlock one of those guarded male secrets that you were privy to as a rite of passage into manhood. He asked me.

  “Do you have enough confidence in yourself to believe you can make it on your own?” I looked him in the eye and answered without hesitation.

  “Of course I do but I-”, he cut me off.

  “Well, what else do you need? Kalem, when I saw you sitting there moping at that restaurant down in Orlando, I must admit I was less than impressed. But in talking to you a confidence emerged that reminded me of someone I knew a long time ago. I didn’t give you my card because I felt sorry for you. I gave you my card because I knew you could be an asset to my business. I saw in you a lot of the characteristics that gave me the confidence to step out on my own thirty-five years ago. Yes, I had doubts just like you do. But I didn’t let those doubts prevent me from doing what I knew I could. I smiled. The knowledge that someone as successful as Calango thought I had what it took to be a success as well briefly buoyed my confidence. “So what do you think?” I pondered my response.

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’d feel more comfortable after a couple of years in the business; so I could get some experience.” Calango shook his head.

  “I tell you what,” he said with a smile. “If you go out on your own I will allow you to continue negotiating the contracts you’re currently working on. I’ll be your first client.” I thought about what Calango had offered. The two contracts that I had working would be enough to sustain the business for a while. Meanwhile I could work on making some contacts and drumming up new business. Hell yeah, I can do this. Calango interrupted my thoughts.

  “Plus, I talked to a couple of friends who are willing to throw some business your way. They were initially a little wary but I staked my reputation on you. I guess they figured if I am willing to trust you with my investments, they could too. Now don’t expect anything big from them right away. They’ll probably test you with some minor projects at first. You’ll have to prove yourself. But I figure after you’ve handled a coup
le of their accounts they’ll be beating down your door to get on that client list of yours.” I was on cloud nine. In business for myself. And, with an instant source of revenue. Damn, could things get any better? “It’s a win, win situation.” Calango pointed out. I agreed like a mug.

  “I guess I’m going to need to start looking for an office.” Calango smiled like a proud father watching his son take his maiden bicycle ride sans the training wheels.

  Well, here I am five years later still going strong and with a client list longer than even I could have imagined. I’m handling all of Calango’s business investments. My office went from two people; my secretary and myself, to nine. I even have an attorney and two accountants on staff. I’ve exceeded my expectations and Calango seems to be enjoying my success more than anyone including me. He is constantly telling me how proud he is of my success.

  I’m presently negotiating Calango’s buyout of a marginally profitable software company. I’ve spent the last two months putting the Intellica deal together. Calango and I are meeting to go over the details.

  “Debbie, will you confirm my seven-thirty meeting with Raoul Richards please.” Debbie turned to exit my office.

  “Meeting? You mean your regular getaway at the Ladyfoxx? You and Mr. Richards sure do seem to enjoy meeting at the strip club.”

  “Debbie, my meetings with Raoul are of a purely professional nature,” I answered while attempting to maintain a serious tone. “And the Ladyfoxx happens to have some of the best fried chicken in Charlotte.” Debbie turned and gave me a look that said; “child please.”

  “Yeah, so I’ve heard, I’ll call him to confirm.”

  “Thanks, Debbie; I don’t know what I would do without you.” Debbie smiled back at me as she exited my office closing the door behind her.