Page 45 of Night and Day
“Maybe?”
“But,” he continued, ignoring her, “they called you for a reason, and that’s because they saw potential in your products. Like I told you, Ms. Johnson is one of my firm’s clients. She’s a no-nonsense person. She wouldn’t have called if she didn’t see a way to make money with you. And I guarantee you she’s already made up her mind and just needs to confirm that you’re someone she wants to go into business with.”
From what he’d said, the firm earned lots of money in billable hours handling Ms. Johnson’s affairs. Anton didn’t work with her directly because he was low down on the totem pole—too low to deal with such a high-profile, important client.
“In other words, this is for me to screw up,” Tamika said.
“In other words, this is your opportunity to shine and confirm that she should be doing business with you.”
Tamika placed her palms on his bare chest. “Is there any way you could let some of that confidence seep into me by osmosis?”
Anton chuckled and pulled her close. She nestled against his chest, melting into his strength and warm skin as her worries drained away.
“You got this, sweetheart,” he whispered.
Tamika tipped back her head to look up at him. The differences between him and Calvin were stark. Her ex had been completely uninterested in her work, but Anton was not only helpful, he was her cheerleader.
“When I started my cosmetics business, I thought I’d always have to do it alone, and I never considered having someone partnering with me. Certainly not someone whose work I admire as much as this woman. If she takes me on, my business will explode.”
“And that’s what you want, right?”
Though fear corded in her stomach, Tamika nodded. “Yes, that’s what I want. Going into business with Sylvie Johnson would be a dream come true.”
“Then we’re going to claim it, okay? No more doubts. And, you’re going to come to bed and get a good night’s rest. Tomorrow you’ll put on your makeup and that purple dress, which I think is more your style than the conservative black and white suit. When the car comes to pick you up, you’ll march into that office with your head held high, like you belong there.”
“You know what, I might have to hire you for the job of hype man,” Tamika said.
“How much does the position pay?” Anton asked.
“Unlimited sex and shoulder massages.”
“I’ll take it!” he exclaimed.
She laughed, and when he kissed her lips, she cradled his jaw in both her hands. “My luck has changed since I met you.” She kissed his soft lips, sighing with happiness.
His hands reached around to cup her bottom. “Me too,” he whispered against her mouth. “Life couldn’t be better.”
20
In preparation for the meeting with Sylvie Johnson, Tamika misted her face with a blend she’d created made of rosewater, aloe, and glycerin. She was currently testing the new product and planned to add it to her website for the winter, marketing the spray as a way to hydrate the hair and skin, and as a pick-me-up during the day.
Refreshed, she dropped the two-ounce bottle into her purse and slipped on her shoes.
The driver arrived promptly at one thirty p.m. She expected a sedan or perhaps an SUV, but he arrived in a shiny black limo and held the door open for her as if she was a rock star. She slid onto the soft leather of the backseat and smiled to herself when she caught one of the neighbors staring at them.
Though tempted to drink the water or juice or try one of the snacks in the console, she opted not to indulge because of the queasy nervousness that hovered in her belly, and she didn’t want to risk throwing up inside the limousine. Or worse, during the meeting.
The ride took twenty minutes, during which Anton sent a text wishing her good luck. She responded with multiple kissing face emojis.
After the driver dropped her off in front of the building, she was greeted by a young woman on the inside who inquired if she needed the restroom or any refreshments. Tamika declined both and was escorted to the top floor. As she was led into Ms. Johnson’s suite of offices, she noticed the tomb-like quiet and responded by speaking in a hushed tone to her escort.
A woman rose to greet her. She was middle-aged, with blue eyes and shoulder length hair streaked with gray. Extending a hand, she said with a smile, “Hello, I’m Inez. We spoke on the phone.”
“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.” Tamika shook her hand.
“Thank you, Leslie,” Inez said to the young woman beside Tamika. Her escort nodded and left them alone. “I’ll let Ms. Johnson know you’re here. Please, have a seat.”
Tamika sat on a contemporary-looking leather sofa and waited with her hands clasped on her lap while Inez spoke quietly into the phone. After she hung up, she came around her desk.
