Page 26 of Devanté
“Okay, Devanté. I’ll get the rest of your schedule tightened up and make some phone calls.”
My stomach knotted into a singular dense mass that slipped down further the closer the elevator climbed to the top floor. When the doors slid open, a wide-open and bright area unfolded before me with shiny white marble floors and exposed concrete walls. Everything was so…bright.
“Hello, Mr. Morgan. Oh my god, it’s so nice to meet you.” A bright-eyed assistant sitting behind a cool gray desk blinked up at me with a grin.
“Hey, nice to meet you too, sweetheart. Can you point me in the direction of Blake Remington’s office? I have an appointment with her today.”
The assistant’s smooth face fell into a frown. “Oh, I thought your assistant would have come up on your behalf.”
“Nope. I’m here for my own meeting,” I laughed. “Is Miss Remington around?”
“Yes, she is,” the assistant said. “I’m Meka, by the way. Miss Remington’s assistant, Noa is down the hall and to the back. You can’t miss her. The only offices back there are Miss Remington’s and Mr. Perez’s.” Her eyes begged me for something that I couldn’t figure out. The longer her star-struck smile remained pasted to her face, the more evident it became what she wanted.
“Wanna take a picture?” I asked, breaking the awkward silence. She squealed then bounced around the desk, phone in hand.
“Oh my god. I was so scared to ask! You are so damn fine and I know I’m being unprofessional but it’s you. Devanté. Fucking. Morgan.” It was a response I was used to getting, especially from women. It was a part of my life that sometimes I wished I could mute.
I put my arm around Meka’s waist and she snuggled as close to me as she could get. I swore she sniffed me but I ignored it. She snapped five pictures from different angles. I remained smiling and easy.
“Oh my god, thank you so much. Can I post this to my Snap?”
“Sure, go for it.” I looked around her down the long spacious hall and she composed herself quickly before hopping behind the desk again.
“You can go back there now. Sorry, I fangirled,” she apologized, a sheepish smile crossing her brown face.
“It’s all good, Meka. Have a nice day.” I waved at her and laughed as she clutched her chest and sighed.
I headed toward the offices in the back and looked around. The Watson W was emblazoned on the walls and laser etched into the marble floor. The office door to my left read Blake Remington, Creative Marketing Director. My chest swelled with pride. I kept loose tabs on Blake over the past eight years so I knew she’d climbed up the ladder at Watson but seeing her name on the door like that filled me with joy.
“Mr. Morgan, you’re early,” a petite woman with dark hair and big brown eyes walked in front of me with an iPad nearly identical to Molly’s.
“You must be Noa?” I quizzed, lifting an eyebrow.
“Yes, that’s me. Nice to meet you. If you’d please have a seat in the lobby area, Miss Remington will be right with you.” Her smile was polite but I saw a fire in her eyes that told me she wasn’t with the shits. Meaning, she wouldn’t fall for anything that would have worked on Meka.
“Is Miss Remington in her office?” I turned and looked over my shoulder through the glass walls prompting a frown from Noa.
“She’ll be right out.” She stood, waiting for me to move over to the lobby where there were rows of plush chairs facing her desk.
“I was wondering if maybe I could see her a little before the meeting,” I flashed my signature smile and she looked right through me. “Nothing, huh?” I chuckled reluctantly.
“Nah. I like girls. You are very handsome it just doesn’t work on me.”
“Okay, so if I promise you coffee, can I see Blake earlier?”
“Nope. You’re a bad judge of character. I’m a tequila girl. Now if you’d offered me Patron then we’d be talking.”
“How much Patron?” I asked. She tapped the side of her face, weighing my offer of tequila.
“Noa, I’m ready for Mr. Morgan.” Blake’s voice was winter stretching across the air. When it reached me, I froze on the spot. I turned slowly, like one face to face glance would turn me to stone. It had been so long since I laid eyes on her.
When I looked at my best friend, the woman I’d been in love with most of my life, the spin of the earth slowed. Seeing her in pictures or across a crowded room at events didn’t do her justice.
She’d always been beautiful but now? Now she was something else. Now words no longer served a purpose when trying to describe her.
Her long dark hair was swept into an effortless chignon showing the gold studs climbing up the curve of her ear. Her pillowy lips were painted I-run-this-shit red and other than maybe some mascara and eyeliner, her face looked clear. A glittering scape of deep umber and cinnamon. Her wardrobe upgraded from sweatshirts and leggings to the sleek white silk blouse and ocean blue pants she had on now.
Damn.
