Pieces of Dreams

“Naw.”

“Everything cool at home? ’Cause I know that business is booming. So that ain’t it.”

I looked away for a moment and stared at the web page design I’d been pretending to be working on for the past few hours.

CJ and I started WebMasters about five years ago, just the two of us. Now we have a staff of ten graphic designers and five technicians, and more business than we can handle. He was right. It wasn’t business.

“It’s Max,” I blurted out, as if those two words would somehow explain everything.

“Is she all right, Man? She’s not sick, or anything?”

I shook my head, almost wishing it were something that simple—that she could just take something—a pill, some cough syrup—and everything would be cool.

“No. She’s not sick.”

“Oh, that’s good.’ He waited a beat. “So—what is it?”

I shut off my computer. Couldn’t concentrate, anyway. “It’s that brother from New York, Man.”

CJ’s eyes widened, then narrowed, in that look he always has seconds before he gets really pissed off.

“What about him? Don’t tell me he’s trying to make a move on Maxine. Not after all this time. That’s bulls—”

“It’s not him. At least not like that. It’s Maxine, too.”

“What!” He sat straight up in his seat. “Naw, you’re gonna spell this one out for me, my brother. Not Max,” he hissed between his teeth, then caught himself and took a sidelong glance around the office.

CJ had been the one who’d cautioned me from day one about getting involved with Maxine—especially with her being pregnant with another man’s baby.

“Are you out of your mind, Ty?” he’d asked me one Sunday afternoon in the park after we both nearly collapsed from exhaustion after a game of one-on-one. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself involved in. What if this Quinn dude pops back up and wants to lay claim? This is all rebound, man. You deserve better than that. Just chill a minute before you rush into this thing. I don’t want to see you get all messed up.”

I hadn’t listened. I didn’t want to.

From the first moment I laid eyes on Maxine, I knew she was my soulmate, the one person, who—after years of emotional denial and detachment—turned the light back on in my world. Maxine made me want to trust in being in love and loving again, something I’d thought could never happen. She’d opened her heart to me without expecting anything in return. At the same time, she needed me—and it had been far too long since I felt needed by anyone.

It all happened so suddenly, like an accident, nothing planned—not a blind-date thing. It was as if fate had stepped in and said, “Here, Man, ‘this Bud’s for you.’”

How it went down was that we had just landed our first big client—a corporation with outlets in ten major cities across the country. They wanted us to design their website, as well as install computer systems at all of their locations. This was it. CJ and I had just hit the big time.

The CEO of the company wanted the two of us to fly down to Atlanta to meet with the execs from all of his locations, sign the deal, and start work as of yesterday.

CJ was busy pulling together our bag of tricks for our presentation, and I was assigned the task of handling the flight arrangements. Our hotel, ground transportation, and food were being taken care of on the other end, which was really cool.

There was a travel agency I passed every now and then on my way in and out of town. I believed it was black-owned, and I was all for keeping business “in the family,” so I figured I’d give it a shot.

For the life of me, I couldn’t remember the name of the place, so I went in person which was okay, too, since it was sort of on my way home.

I pulled up in front of the place about six-fifteen or so, just as a woman—who I later discovered was Marva—was hanging the Closed sign in the window.

Dashing across the street I ran up to the door and knocked on the glass.

The same woman who’d just hung up the sign came to the door and mouthed, “We’re closed.” She had the most incredible blue eyes, set against pale skin.

Just as I put on my best “begging” expression and clasped my hands in prayer, the absolutely finest woman I’d seen in a while walked up behind her.

Being what I considered a connoisseur of gorgeous women, I knew this one was way up on the Richter scale.

She was a brown, svelte beauty, the color of mouthwatering chocolate, with a close-cut hairdo that framed her near-perfect face. She had wide, expressive brown eyes and full, kissable lips. Her body was a Playboy photographer’s dream, with long dancer’s legs displayed beneath a short denim skirt that had me thinking all kinds of wild thoughts. She wasn’t busty but full, bringing to mind peaches, ripe and sweet for the picking.

She said something to the woman next to her, who stepped aside as the beauty opened the door.

“Hi. Can I help you?”

Her voice, rich and sweet as honey, slid all over me, and her smile with that little gap in front—oh, Man. I forced myself to concentrate on why I was there.

“I hope so. I know you’re closed, but I’m desperate.”

“We can’t have that.” She grinned. “Come in and let’s see what we can work out. I’m Maxine Sherman,” she said, leading the way into the small, but cozy office.

“Taylor Collins.”

“I’m going to head home, Maxine. Will you be okay?” Blue eyes gave me a sideways glance.

“Sure, Marva. Go on. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night,” she said to both of us.

“Night,” we harmonized, and turned to each other and laughed.

“So, where are you so desperate to go, Mr. Collins?” Maxine asked, taking a seat behind a cluttered desk.

“Atlanta. Day after tomorrow.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. It’ll just cost you a bit more. The short notice,” she added by way of explanation.

“No problem, as long as I get there.”

“Please, have a seat,” she said, indicating a chair next to her desk, and I noticed the slenderness of her long fingers—and no rings.

She shuffled some papers around, actually moving them from one pile into another, and turned on her computer. With a few quick strokes of those lovely fingers she had the reservation screen up. She bit down on her lip in concentration as the information scrolled in front of her.

“There’s a seven a.m. flight available through American Airlines. Is that okay?”

I forced myself to concentrate on what she was saying to keep from focusing on the smoothness of her skin, the sensual movement of her bare fingers, and the way her mouth became an erotic orifice every time she spoke.

“Uh, sure. That sounds fine. I’ll need two tickets. For my partner and me, Calvin,” I added, for some reason, needing her to know that a woman wasn’t involved.

She smiled. “When will you be returning?”