gazed up at Mia, who was looking at her pensively.
“You generally don’t have ‘that look’ until Friday,” Mia teased, attempting to push away the cloud that had suddenly appeared above her friend’s head.
Samantha tried to laugh it off. “I’m not that transparent, am I?”
Mia nodded, lips pursed. “What else is on your mind besides the usual chaos and mayhem?”
Samantha pushed her locks away from her face and tucked them behind her ear. “Chad is back.”
“And…”
“It was good seeing him.” She paused. “More than good.”
Mia folded her arms. “And…”
“And—well, I just…wonder what it would be like to have a real life. Settle down, home, white picket fence, family, kids, you know.”
Mia needed to take a seat. This wasn’t the Sam she knew talking.
“I like him. Always did,” she shyly admitted. “And it looks like we’re going to have the chance to work together.” She went on to explain Chad’s bold idea and all that it would entail. She looked deeply into Mia’s eyes. “I know he thinks I’m witty, intelligent, with high morals, a fighter for justice and the downtrodden. But I want him to see me as Samantha Montgomery—woman. You know what I mean. But it’s been so long since I’ve even thought of myself outside of my work, I wouldn’t know where to begin, where to separate myself. When I called him for lunch, I knew I had it all together. But lying in bed last night, the doubts slipped in. Chad seems perfect for someone like my sister Simone, not me.”
“Why do you say that?”
Samantha shrugged helplessly. “She’s talented, smart, pretty, and she has a way with men that I’ve never mastered. It was the one thing I envied about her,” she admitted. “Men flock to Simone without much effort on her part.”
“So you’ve become your work?”
“I guess,” she sighed. “I live too much in my head. In my job.”
“Believe me, I love Simone, but the only difference between you and your stepsister is that she isn’t afraid of her womanhood. She embraces it.”
“And you’re saying that I’m afraid?” she tossed back defensively.
“Thou protests too much,” Mia said with an arched brow.
Samantha backed down by degrees, knowing that Mia was right. “Okay, okay,” she finally conceded. “So now what? What do I do?”
“Depends on how much you really want him.”
Samantha’s gaze drifted away for a moment. How much did she want Chad? Or was he like everything else in her life—a challenge?
“Well,” Mia pushed out a breath and stood. “I have work to do and by the sound of what you told me, so do you.”
Samantha blinked and focused on Mia. “You’re right. I need to get busy. I’ll start pulling files that we’ve had direct contact with and later today, you have one of the interns make copies. No.” She shook her head. “You make the copies. Although I trust Nettie and Steve, they’re still young and excitable. I don’t want them running back to G.W.U. and Howard spreading the word about what we’re putting together.”
“Got it. The sooner you get them to me, the sooner I’ll have them screened and back to you.”
“Before lunch.”
Mia gave a thumbs-up and headed for the door, then stopped. “You know if you ever want to talk—about whatever—I’ll listen. Might not have much to offer in the way of advice,” she teased, “but I’ll listen to anything. No judgments.”
Samantha laughed. “That’s definitely good to know.” Her expression grew more serious. “Thanks.”
Mia waved and left.
Samantha turned her attention to the stack of reports and statements on her desk. She didn’t really see any of it. Afraid of being a woman. The telling phrase echoed in her head. Emotionally shut down. Was she? And if so, what was she willing to do about it?
Chad pored over the transcripts and police reports that Justin’s secretary had provided for him. Some were a matter of public record, others were cases that Justin, Sean or Khendra had worked on personally.
Sean and Khendra, he mused. Now they were a team. Very effective. Several years earlier they’d successfully won a multimillion-dollar lawsuit in a wrongful-death shooting. That was a case splashed all over the New York papers. If he remembered right, the victim’s brother, Quinten Parker, launched a foundation for troubled youth with the settlement.
He stroked his chin in thought. Outcomes like that are a start. But the results are contained. His goal was to have far-reaching results—long-term. Black folks would never see reparations from slavery. That was a beaten trail that would lead nowhere. But today, here and now, they had a chance to get payment for their suffering and loss, if they would band together for a single cause before there was no one, not one black man left standing.
“Knock, knock. Can I come in?”
Chad’s gaze snapped up and landed on the long, slender form framed in his doorway. For an instant, he saw her silky hair fanned out around her head like a halo, her eyes shut, mouth moist, swollen and inviting, as her body moved beneath him. That was then. It was pretty clear that that chapter in their life was closed.
He cleared his throat and his thoughts. “Hey, this is a surprise.” He stood slowly.
“Pleasant?”
He rounded the desk and crossed the room. “Absolutely.” He hugged her briefly and stepped back. “Come in and get comfortable. What brings you here?” He went to the small refrigerator, opened the door and peered inside. “Something to drink?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled.
Simone strolled to the couch and sat, crossing her stockinged legs in one smooth motion. It was a very feminine, sexy gesture that was not lost on him.
“Anything cold,” she answered, fighting to keep her eyes off his slouched body. “Did you see today’s paper?”
“Yeah.” He emerged with a chilled can of Coke and an iced tea. He handed the iced tea to Simone and sat on the far end of the couch, draping his arm along its length. “Just more fuel for the fire, baby.” He took a long swallow of the Coke. “But I know you didn’t come all the way down here to ask me if I’d read the paper.”
Simone averted her gaze, giving him her striking profile. “No, I didn’t. Actually I came to talk to Justin. But he’s not in.” Liar, liar! Why don’t you tell him the real reason?
“Oh, yeah. He’ll be gone the rest of the day. Maybe I can help you with something.”
“No. Just father-daughter talk.” She forced out a laugh.
“How’s the campaign going?”
“I’m going to headquarters when I leave here, actually. My staff is out doing polling in various areas of our district, and I’ve been trying to concentrate on strategy and my platform. Now with this class action suit you want to pull together, I’ve been trying to see how best to incorporate it into my agenda, to make it pay dividends at the ballot box, while weighing what I can do to help.”
Chad reflected on Justin’s request: Keep them as far away from it as possible.
He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Listen, whatever you can do is fine with me. But I can handle it. I don’t want any of this to cloud your agenda or jeopardize your chances for election. This is going to be a very problematic call, Simone. It could cost you big-time. I’ll understand if you can’t give it one hundred percent. I want you to win. Having you in office is a greater asset than rallying the troops to storm the barricades.”