Keywords: 03, Ch., True, Colors,
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Her phone had been vibrating from the moment she left the restaurant and was still vibrating as she unzipped the cocktail dress, and threw her shoes under the bed. The dress she stepped out of, leaving it in a puddle at her feet. Tatiana removed her undergarments and headed for the bathroom. Turning the water on, she allowed it to find that perfect temperature. As the water adjusted, she stared at herself in the mirror. What sort of impression did she just give to that guy? Heaven knows she was no slut, but from every single memory of the night with Marcus, she found no assurance in her behavior. She'd never done something like that before—never! Considering the fact that she'd barely had a handful of boyfriends, if so much—. As the feelings overtook her, her eyes became teary before she closed them tightly.
No use crying over split milk, her mother's sweet voice sounded in her head. The thought of her mother finding out about the bathroom encounter sent chills down her spine. Lorraine Jenkins was an outspoken activist for the African American cause. From her years working with the NAACP Legal Defense Fund, Lorraine had developed a general idea of the "white man" and it wasn't pleasant. She'd passed those ideas down to her daughters but while Zoë had listened strongly to her mother, Tatiana had always been the unrealistic and way too imaginative sister. When she wrote her stories, the real world disappeared, allowing her to briefly encounter a fantasy land, a land where people didn't care about skin color, or class, or background in the end—the only thing that mattered was humanity. As she thought of her writing, she slapped a palm across her forehead and winced at the impact.
"Shit!" she groaned, remembering that she had to present at least 200 pages of manuscript to her editor by ten o'clock tomorrow. While she was out screwing some random white guy, who she admitted was very hot, she'd wasted precious time! She quickly glanced at the clock hanging on her bathroom wall. It was 9:30 pm. That meant she had about twelve hours to write
Taking a deep breath, and releasing it slowly, Tatiana opened the hazy glass door of the shower and stepped in. As the water ran over her head, she leaned forward, resting her forehead against the cool tile and allowing the sting of the water to relax the bunched muscles in her back. After a few minutes of simply relaxing, she lathered up and washed herself quite thoroughly wanting badly to wash away her night with the whi—Marcus.
Tatiana was late. It was already 10: 20 am and she hadn't even arrived at the Bantam-Dell office. As her editor had recently moved, she wasn't affiliated with the new building. When the yellow-cab pulled up in front of a high-rise building on Madison Ave, she paid the driver, jumped out and ran—oblivious to the many stares that she received—for the building.
As she made for the elevator, the security guard called her over to his desk and said, "Identification please, ma'am."
An acute irritation settled over her as she reached into her bag and pulled out her wallet. With her hair pulled angrily into one and bags under her eyes, she was sure she bore little resemblance to the girly picture on the New York State identification.
The security guard who appeared to be in his mid-thirties and of Spanish descent, looked at the picture, then at her and raised his eyebrows.
"This is you?" he asked, causing her to involuntarily roll her eyes.
"Yes, it is. I'm very late for an appointment with June Davis, one of the editors at Bantam-Dell. You can call up and ask her," Tatiana told him quickly.
The security guard did just that. After a few minutes—wasted minutes in Tatiana's opinion—he finally cleared her.
"Just sign the guest book, and head up to the thirty-fourth floor," Tatiana didn't really listen as she hurriedly signed the book and ran for the closing elevator.
A Good Samaritan noticed her plight, held the door for her and in no more than four minutes, she was sitting across from an unsmiling June Davis.
June Marie Davis, one the head editors at Bantam-Dell, was also one of her mother's best friends and as such, almost an aunt to Tatiana. She was very supportive of Tatiana's writing, and admitted that she had talent, but disliked Tatiana's messiness and tardiness.
"Sorry," Tatiana said, feeling like a thirteen year old who'd refused to listen to her elders.
June shook her head, allowing wisps of crinkly graying hair to escape from the clip at the back of her head. Her bright eyes in her copper face always lent air of intelligence to any look that she bestowed upon friends, family and associates. It also served to rebuke Tatiana from time to time.
"Where's the manuscript?" June finally asked, releasing a soft sigh.
Tatiana finally relaxed, offered her a smile and handed over her hard work.
"Your mother is worried about you. She said she called you about three times last night for your birthday and you didn't answer," June commented as they rode the elevator down. June was heading out for lunch while Tatiana intended to head back to her apartment, take a warm shower, and go directly to sleep—in that order.
Tatiana felt the heat rising in her face and prayed that June didn't recognize it. With her soft complexion, at times one could see a sort of dark red shade arise in her cheeks when she was embarrassed. She hoped this wasn't one of those times.
"Um—I turned off my phone last night when I was writing the manuscript," she informed her.
June chuckled and then clucked. "You're always one to do things at a late time. It was pretty good though. I'll tidy it up and you give me another 100 pages by Friday."
Tatiana stifled the urge to let out a huge sign and then an even bigger groan. Friday was in four days. Fine! She'd have to start ASAP.
She was about to respond when the elevator halted on the 20th floor and opened, allowing two tall men to enter. She noticed that one was African American with a mocha-chocolate complexion, and wavy close cropped black hair. He offered June a respectful nod and gave her a large grin which reflected perfect white teeth. Overall, he was handsome. The other man, who was white, was a bit taller—possibly an inch or two—than the black man but as he'd turned around almost instantly upon entering the elevator, she only had a view of silky jet black hair that touched the top of his back.
"Did you eat anything for the day, Tatiana?" June asked as the elevator continued its descent.
"No, I'll get something later."
Marcus froze as the name pushed a few buttons in his body. It couldn't be...
"Where are we eating, Marcus?" Kenneth Johnson, a very good friend of his asked, pulling his cell phone from his suit pocket as he planned on making reservations.
He heard someone behind him gasp softly, and his brain went back to what he'd seen upon boarding the elevator.
An older woman—June Davis—one of the editors at Bantam-Dell he remembered and a younger woman had been turned slightly away from him.
Was it possible...?
"Are you alright dear?" June asked Tatiana, turning those intelligent eyes on her.
Tatiana nodded. "Yea—I just remembered that I forgot to do something."
At that moment, the man who'd been referred to as Marcus turned around and as her eyes clashed with his cool grey ones, she knew that the Marcus that she'd encountered last night and this Marcus were one and the same.
The elevator doors opened. They'd arrived on the first floor. The men stepped out first, and Kenny turned curious eyes on Marcus. He'd noticed his reaction to the woman in the elevator.
"I'll get us a table at Frankie's," Kenny told Marcus as he headed for the front of the building.
As the two women walked past him, Marcus noticed that Tatiana cast him anxious glances before she attempted to focus on what June was saying.
"Alright, Tatiana. I'll see you on Friday," June told her, gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek and headed for the exit.
As soon as June was out of the building, Tatiana whirled on Marcus.
Keeping her voice low as they were in the lobby of the building, standing very close to the elevators, she said, "Look, what happened last night was mistake. I'm not that sort of girl, so it's not happening again!"
Marcus took in her appearance—her sleepy yet beautiful eyes, her haywire hair, the lack of make-up on her face yet the natural beauty her presence exuded—and couldn't help the smile that turned his lips up.
Tatiana read the smile another way. She smirked as anger boiled up within her and with a hiss, she released, "You know, just because I'm black doesn't mean I'm easy and it sure as hell doesn't mean I'm desperate to get with you so wipe that sick grin off of your face! Gosh, why didn't I listen to Zoë?"
She turned around to storm away from him but he caught her arm and held her. His touch was very similar to the one he'd given her when she'd been intent on leaving the bathroom. She almost shivered but remembered that he saw her as no more than an exotic piece of eye-candy.
Jerking her hand away, she turned to face him.
He was very serious. Stepping closer to her, too close for her liking and in a public place at that, he said softly, "I never thought that you were 'easy' and I don't see what your race has to do with this. I'm grinning because you look very pretty at the moment."
"Humph," she managed to say when she found her voice. "Pretty? Don't flatter me. I know I look like hell right now."
He chuckled and Tatiana felt the need to purr. Why was he so gorgeous and for crying out loud, why the hell was she so attracted to him?
"And you're modest too," he retorted, surprising her further that these words were coming from one such as he.
"I see you are a flatterer. Doesn't matter—like I said, last night was a mistake. It won't happen again. Goodbye."
Tatiana turned and began walking, only to hear his footsteps fall beside her.
"Are you stalking me already?" she asked calmly.
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Keywords: 03, Ch., True, Colors,