This Tender Melody Page 6

  “My mother asked me to give you a call. I hope this won’t be an inconvenience for you, but my father’s been ordered to stop working by his cardiologist. So my parents are asking that you start working at FTI much sooner than originally planned.”

  His eyebrow lifted. “Okay. How much sooner are we talking about?”

  She drew an audible breath. “Can you come in on Monday?”

  Yikes. He had a Gents gig coming up this week, and had planned to enjoy his last few days of retirement at his beach house on Emerald Isle. “It’s a lot sooner than we talked about, but if I’m needed, I’ll be there.”

  She made a sound, but he couldn’t tell if she was relieved or annoyed. “Thank you, I’m sure my parents will appreciate it.”

  Inwardly, he groaned, but he knew he was doing the right thing. He’d still have his evenings and weekends to himself, so the job wouldn’t interfere with band practice and gigs. And maybe, just maybe, Eve would be trained and ready to take over the job faster than anyone thought. “I have to say, Eve, I’m not sure why your father asked me to do this. But he was such a good mentor to me, I’m glad I can do something to return the favor.”

  She was silent for a few moments before she spoke again. “Didn’t he tell you why he asked you to come in? He doesn’t feel I’m ready for the job.” She said the words as if they hurt her teeth on the way out.

  “He told me that, yes, but I don’t agree.”

  “What?” Her voice conveyed a measure of shock.

  He stood from the stool where he often sat while practicing, crossing the room to sit in his favorite armchair. “I was there in that board meeting, and I listened to you delivering the financial reports. Not only are you beautiful, but you’re obviously damn good at what you do. If you can run the finance department with that much poise, there’s no doubt in my mind you can run the company the same way.”

  “I...uh...appreciate that. Really, I do.” Her tone had softened considerably, and he imagined her blushing.

  “Just calling it as I saw it.” He wondered if she would fuss at him for calling her beautiful, but he’d been telling the truth. She was the most attractive woman he’d ever laid eyes on. “I meant everything I said.”

  “I’ll accept the compliments, but you recall how I feel about fraternizing.”

  “Who said anything about that?”

  “So, you’re going to drop those silly ideas about a so-called attraction between us, and keep things strictly professional?”

  He chuckled. She certainly played being immovable well, but he knew better. When an attraction was this strong, it was only a matter of time before something happened. “Sure. I’ll keep it just as professional as you do.”

  “Good.” She seemed satisfied with his answer. “Then I’ll see you at the office on Monday. Have a good weekend.” She disconnected the call.

  Pocketing his cell phone again, he felt a broad grin spread across his face. Eve was so sure she could deny what was happening between them, she had no idea what she’d just agreed to.

  He’d promised to match her behavior, and he would. While she was certain that things between them would be all business, he knew better. The attraction between them was obvious, mutual and powerful. He wasn’t going to press her about it; truth was, there was no need. It was only a matter of time until she gave in, and when she did, he’d be waiting.

  * * *

  Darius bopped into his kitchen the next morning, plucking an imaginary bass, as the sounds of John Coltrane flowing from his stereo filled his condo. He was looking forward to his usual Saturday ritual: a basketball game, lunch at the Brash Bull and rehearsal with the Queen City Gents. It would provide a much needed break from his new coworker, Eve Franklin. There was something between them, something powerful. Shaking his head, he decided to think about something else besides his curvy colleague.

  After pouring a bowl of kibble for Chance, he stepped to the refrigerator. He gathered four eggs, some Colby cheese and ham, then slid to the stove to prepare himself an omelet. He added a handful of diced bell peppers and onions. The spicy aroma soon permeated the atmosphere. He hummed along to the music as his breakfast sizzled in the skillet, and when it had browned nicely, he flipped it onto a plate.

  Seated on his sofa with his breakfast, he turned off the stereo with his universal remote, and switched on the thirty-seven-inch flat-panel television mounted on his wall. Just in time for SportsCenter. The program’s familiar theme song filled the room. Chance, having finished his food, took his usual curled-up position on a dog bed next to Darius. After enjoying his late breakfast and his first dose of sports news, Darius rinsed his plate in the sink and headed for the door. Rubbing Chance behind the ear, he grabbed his gym bag and left his apartment. Headed down the street on foot, he walked toward the nearby neighborhood where his best friend, Rashad McRae, lived.

  The Sentry Heights development contained a mixture of ranch-style homes, apartments and condominiums, and featured plenty of amenities. There was a clubhouse with a gym and pool, laundry and dry cleaners on-site and twenty-four-hour security. Darius had almost bought a home there himself, but had found the neighborhood populated by too many teenagers for his liking. Still, that didn’t stop him and his bandmates from making use of the available facilities with Rashad’s resident pass.

  Arriving at the basketball court, he found his bandmates already there. Rashad leaned against the chain-link fence, his fingers flying across the screen of his smartphone. Darius often watched people using their phones, and took a measure of pride in knowing his invention had helped to add convenience to their lives. Conversely, for every parent he saw ignoring a young child in favor of their phone, or every driver attempting to use the phone while they operated a vehicle, he felt a pang of guilt. Who knew his little OS would affect so many people in such a profound way?

  Marco stood by the fence, his knee bent behind him, his right ankle in the palm of his right hand. Ken sat on the gleaming metal bench, a look of concentration on his face as he laced up his basketball shoes.

  “Afternoon, Gents,” Darius called as he approached the fenced-in court.

  “Hey,” Ken called out. “You’re late.”

  Darius rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You waited, didn’t you?” He strode over to the bench, dropping his duffel bag to the blacktop near it. “Don’t worry, Rashad and I are still gonna spank you on the court today.”

  “That’s pretty big talk coming from a bassist,” Marco declared in his heavy Hispanic accent. “Put your dinero where your mouth is.”

  “What are you trying to say?” Darius asked.

  “The bass is very simple to play. All you have to do is pluck.” Marco mimicked the motion on an imaginary instrument. “Now the saxophone, that’s an instrument that requires some skill and coordination. That’s why the ladies love me.” He wiggled his fingers. “I’m good with my hands.”

  Darius punched his friend in the shoulder.

  Rashad joined them, a basketball in hand. “All right, boys, curb the trash talk. You know the drill. It’s me and Darius versus Marco and Ken. Winners choose the songs for Wednesday night’s set.” He paused, holding the ball up over his head. Darius and the others took their places around him. Releasing the ball, he shouted, “Put up or shut up!”

  “Gimme that!” Darius snatched the ball from midair and took off down the court for the basket. Rashad, Marco and Ken followed. He zigzagged, darting here and there. In his mind, he stayed two steps ahead of his bandmates. Just as Darius pushed up to make the shot, a hand knocked the ball away.

  Ken raced in the opposite direction, dribbling furiously. As Rashad and Darius ran to block him, Ken propelled into the air and thrust the ball up. All eyes watched as the ball crashed into the backboard and dropped into the hoop.

  “Swish.” Ken’s single-word declaration was his idea of trash talk
.

  Darius groaned. “Don’t get cocky. We ain’t gonna keep letting that happen.”

  But it did, because Marco and Ken sank basket after basket. Darius did his best to defend against the onslaught, as did Rashad, who acted as if he were playing in the All-Star game. Finally, with the score an abysmal sixteen to one against them, an exhausted Darius trudged off the court.

  Plopping down on the bench, he mopped the sweat from his brow, chest and the back of his neck with the blue-and-green-striped towel stashed in his duffel. Rashad joined him on the bench, stripping off his damp sleeveless shirt.

  “Hey, man, what happened out there?” Rashad asked. “As soon as you got the ball, you let Mr. Zen and the Latin Lover over there grab it from you.” He gestured to the grinning Ken and likewise satisfied Marco. “Where’s your defense, D?”

  “I gotta admit, my mind wasn’t on the game.” Darius groaned aloud. “It’s this woman.”

  “Oh, Lord.” Rashad threw up his hand, as if scolding Darius for letting a mere woman interfere with basketball. “Is this the same one you were running the poor man’s background check on?”

  “Eve Franklin.”

  Rashad’s mouth dropped into a frown. “Seriously? Didn’t we already talk about this?”

  “I know, but I can’t just stop wanting her.”

  “So everything I said, about the lawyers and legal troubles, that just went right in the garbage, huh.” Rashad removed the rubber band holding his long dreadlocks in a ponytail.

  “No, I was listening.” Darius shook his head. “But have you seen her?”

  Rashad’s expression brightened. “Oh, man, I heard she’s gorgeous. Is she?”

  Darius nodded, picturing her, but trying to imagine what she’d look like if she actually smiled at him, instead of brushing him off. “The day I stepped on that elevator car, before I knew who she was, I couldn’t help noticing how fine she was. Ever since then, all I can think about is those hips of hers—she’s shaped like a Coke bottle, man.”

  Rashad appeared impressed with his description.

  “I just wish she’d stop trying to deny her feelings.”

  “You seem pretty sure the attraction is mutual. What’s so great about you?” Rashad joked.

  “Shut up.” Darius stuffed the towel back into his duffel bag, “I’m not some dude with an ego like a cocky rapper. But I know when a woman wants me, and trust me, Eve wants me.”

  Marco and Ken joined them on the bench.

  Ken sat back against the chain-link fence. “I never let women affect me in that way.”

  “That’s because you can’t get a date,” Darius shot back. He figured nothing short of nuclear war could rile Ken the Zen.

  “I assure you, I can get a date. As soon as I decide I want one. But she will not distract me from my life the way this woman is distracting you.” As if to show just how little he cared, Ken yawned.

  Rashad shook his head. “We’ll see about that. The right woman can make any man crazy, even you, Ken.”

  Marco addressed Darius in a mocking tone. “Well, you’d better get your mind right before the next game. Otherwise, you’ll suffer another crushing defeat at my hands.”

  Darius scowled at him, then dismissed what he’d said. His growling stomach demanded to be fed. “Let’s change and get over to the Brash Bull. I’m ready for some wings.”

  “All right.” Rashad fished in the pocket of his cotton shorts and pulled out his keys. “We can change at my house.”

  Chapter 6

  Eve’s eyes scanned the various offerings laid out on the buffet line in the FTI dining room. She’d received a call from her father, asking that he meet her there for lunch so they could have a talk. Knowing he probably wanted to smooth things over with her, in light of the rift between them since her parents crushed her dream of becoming CEO, she decided to give him a chance to explain his concerns. Warring emotions still filled her, but she’d known her father to be a reasonable man, so she would hear him out.

  As was always the case on Mondays, the usual soup, salad and potato bar was set up for the firm’s employees. Sidestepping down the line with her bright red plastic tray, Eve filled her plate with a sampling of salad greens, tomatoes, cucumbers and carrots, topping it all with vinaigrette dressing. At the next station, she added a small bowl of tomato soup and a few packages of buttery crackers. Satisfied, she proceeded through the checkout line. After she’d swiped her badge, Eve left the line, intent on seeking out a table.

  As she walked toward an empty table with her tray, Joseph entered through the swinging glass doors. He still looked pale, but wore a big smile on his face. “Hi, honey. Where are we going to sit?”

  She stopped midstep to answer him. Mirroring his smile, she gestured to where she was headed. “In the empty booth over by the window.”

  “Okay. I’ll join you over there as soon as I get my food.”

  As she opened her mouth to ask if he needed help, Joseph strode away, entering the buffet line.

  Shaking her head, Eve walked over to the booth and set her tray on the table’s blue lacquered surface. Sliding onto the bench, she watched her father’s progress through the line. He seemed to be moving at a much slower pace than usual.

  “Are you okay, Dad? Do you need me to carry your tray?”

  “I’m fine,” Joseph answered quickly. “Just need to get a little food in my system.”

  She was beginning to dress her salad when the chiming of her cell phone grabbed her attention. Producing the phone from her handbag and looking at the screen, she read the text message from Lina.

  Any action with Elevator Volleyball Guy?

  Eve shook her head at her friend’s nosiness. After all her complaining about her own lack of a love life, Lina was still meddling in other folks’ business. Deciding not to dignify the message with a reply, Eve chuckled and tucked her phone away.

  Joseph joined her at the table a few minutes later with his own tray. When he sat down across from her, she noted the items he’d chosen: a baked potato with salsa on top, and a green salad with light dressing, along with a bottle of water.

  “You’re really doing a good job of eating better, Dad. I’m proud of you.”

  He grinned. “It’s not as if your mother has given me much of a choice, but I appreciate that.” He forked up a fluffy portion of potato. “I wanted to talk to you about this thing with Darius and the CEO job. Your mother would have joined us, but she’s upstairs supervising the folks who are cleaning out my office.”

  “I thought so. What did you want to tell me?” Her eyes drifted down as she stirred her soup.

  “I just wanted you to know that this will only be temporary. You are still the rightful heir to Franklin Technologies, and one day soon you will step into your destiny as CEO.” He sipped from his water bottle.

  She continued to eat, remaining silent.

  For a while, they both enjoyed their food in silence, until he spoke again.

  “I think you still have some things to learn when it comes to investor relations, and dealing with the board of directors. Those things may sound minor now, but the cooperation from those two groups is integral to the running of the company. Everything else will fall apart quickly without those factors in place.”

  She took in his words, and could see some degree of truth in them. Even though she currently served as chief financial officer, there seemed to be a breakdown in communication between her and the other members of the board. Beyond that, she had so little interaction with the shareholders, she couldn’t even speak on the subject with any authority. While she knew the ins and outs of the company and the software business, she knew she lacked working experience in the areas her father had pointed out.

  He swallowed a mouthful of food, then rested his forearms on the table. “Eve? You’ve
gotten awfully quiet. Do you understand where I’m coming from, honey?”

  “Yes, Dad. I do. And I’m sorry I let my emotions get the better of me.”

  “It’s understandable. I’m sorry I didn’t let you know sooner that I was concerned about your professional development. But that’s all behind us now, so let’s make the best of the situation, okay?”

  “Deal.” She reached across the table to grasp her father’s hands. “I love you, Dad. And I want you to rest up and enjoy your retirement.”

  “I love you, too. Don’t worry, your mother is going to see to it that I do just that.” He looked down at his nearly empty salad plate and the hollowed out skin of his potato. “You won’t tell your mother if I have a little dessert, will you?” He wore a conspiratorial expression.

  A smile touched her lips. She knew the new diet must be hard on him, so she shook her head. “I’ll keep your secret, but don’t get too crazy.”

  He slid out of the booth and went back to the buffet line, heading toward the end where various cakes, pies and other sweets were displayed. She concentrated on finishing up her own food.

  The clatter of dishes and commotion coming from the direction of the line grabbed her attention. Turning to ascertain the cause of all the fuss, she gasped.

  Her father lay on the floor near the dessert bar.

  She rushed to his side, dropping to her knees next to him. “Dad!”

  He didn’t respond.

  Several dining employees came over, including one who hopped over the counter.

  Someone shouted, “Oh, no, Mr. Franklin’s fainted!”

  “Dad!” Eve’s mind raced, her breath caught in her throat.

  The elder Franklin remained as silent and still as a fallen oak.

  “Get a doctor,” she shouted to the gathering crowd of onlookers. Her wildly thumping heart pounded in her ears like a kettledrum. The cold, hard floor hurt her knees, but she didn’t care.

  She cradled her father’s head in her lap, wishing she could love him back to consciousness. Urgency rose within her with each passing second. She shouted, “Stop standing around. Someone go get help!”