I’ve got to get out of here, Keisha Reynolds thought desperately as she made her way toward the conference room’s “Exit” sign. She gulped what little water remained in her lime-colored Dixie cup, then crushed it in the palm of her hand—as she had so many times that night. In fact, in an effort to calm her nerves; she had consumed so much liquid that it had pushed her bladder to the brink at least four times in the past three hours. While everyone else was huddled around the widescreen televisions set up along the back wall, waiting for the votes from each precinct to appear on screen, Keisha had been trapped in the Hilton’s posh bathrooms.
“Keisha! Where are you going?” someone yelled over the ’60s soul music blaring through nearby speakers. Keisha vaguely registered the voice in her panicked state.
“I need air,” she murmured absently. She licked her full lips, which were already licked clean of any of the pink lipstick she had started with that evening. Keisha took several deep breaths, fighting the urge to rip her navy blue suit from her curvy five-foot, seven-inch frame.
Why did I decide to wear wool today, she silently lamented as she felt her body temperature rise. What in the world was I thinkin’?
Beads of sweat were forming along her brow. She wiped her clammy hands against the front of her skirt and sighed.
Keisha continued to walk toward the double doors, keeping her gaze fixed on the four neon letters that hovered above them. The word EXIT was like a lighthouse beacon in the distance. But focusing on anything was nearly impossible. Around her was a thundering sea of people. Some were holding hands and praying aloud, others jumping up and down, shouting with jubilation as each total came in. A few were even raising their glasses, boldly saluting victory as if it were inevitable.
Many of them, like Keisha, wore a blue and red “Vote for Parker” button on their lapels. Many, like Keisha, had been confined in the almost suffocating conference room since the polls had closed. But unlike Keisha, the success of this congressional campaign didn’t seem to rest squarely on their shoulders. If Sydney Parker won the Democratic primary, his twenty-nine-year-old deputy campaign manager would feel vindicated. No one could whisper anymore that Parker had made a foolish decision by entrusting so much responsibility to Keisha, a woman thought by many to be too young and too green for the job. But if he lost…well…that would mean the end of Keisha’s exciting yet short-lived political career. She would also have to live with the knowledge that she had ruined a great man’s chances to make a difference in Congress.
It’ll be all my fault, she thought mournfully.
“Keisha!” the voice shouted again. Keisha stopped only when she felt someone grab her forearm. She turned and was greeted by the warm smile of the campaign’s field director, Tanya Starks. “Girl, I’ve been callin’ you and callin’ you,” Tanya said, placing her hands on her round hips. “You didn’t hear me?”
Tanya had bettered many in the room in showing her support for her boss. She had changed out of her ivory blouse into a “Vote for Parker” T-shirt. The shirt, paired with the purple pencil skirt and the black three-and-a-half-inch heels she wore, made for an interesting ensemble.
Keisha blinked her large, doe eyes, loudly swallowed, and shrugged. “No, sorry, Tanya. I-I guess I didn’t,” she muttered in response. Keisha watched as the late thirty-something woman eyed her with concern and narrowed her dark eyes, scanning Keisha’s stricken face.
“Are you all right?” she asked, her smile now replaced with an intense frown. She tilted her head, causing her bob to swing like a brown velvet curtain over her eyes. “You look like you need a drink, girl. And I mean a big one!”
“I’m fine…really,” Keisha said, far from convincingly. “I-I-I…” She paused and took another deep breath to stop herself from stuttering. “I just need some…air.” She then forced a wide smile. Despite her efforts, it came out more as a pained, lopsided grimace.
Tanya’s face softened as she sighed. “You don’t have to worry, Keisha,” she assured her, rubbing the younger woman’s shoulder. “I’ve been through this many times before. Believe me, girl, Parker is going to win. Hell, we busted our hind parts to get him here. He better win!” She laughed. “Besides, the exit polls had him ahead by more than four points. So grab a drink, loosen up, and celebrate like everyone else!”
But sometimes the polls are wrong, Keisha thought as her gaze drifted to the paisley carpeted floor. The Republican race had been called hours ago. The incumbent, Vincent Dupré, had won by a landslide. But the Democratic race was still dragging on. That couldn’t be a good sign.
“Oh, I’m not worried, Tanya,” she bluffed as she fiddled with one of her suit buttons. She then pulled back her jacket and glanced at the BlackBerry slung on her hip, pretending to feel it vibrate. “Who could be calling me now?” Keisha murmured as she gazed at the BlackBerry’s blank screen. “I guess I should take this, Tanya. Look, I’ll catch up with you in a little bit.”
Tanya raised an eyebrow. She opened her mouth as if to speak again, but then suddenly closed it and slowly nodded. “Okay, I’ll call you if you’re not back by the time the results are in.”
With that, Keisha abruptly turned and almost sprinted the remaining few yards to the double doors. She hated to lie, especially to Tanya, who, in the past few months, had become less like a fellow campaign director and more like a friend—a big sister even. Tanya had reassured her and made her laugh or smile during some of the rougher patches in the course of the campaign. But Keisha couldn’t pour her heart out to Tanya, not today, not now—no matter how much she wanted to. If Keisha started, the flood gates would open and she knew she would tell Tanya everything: how she had felt since the beginning that she was in over her head and how she feared she had let everyone down. It would be an emotional scene. In fact, she could feel the tears welling in her eyes now.
“Get it together, Keisha,” she whispered, fanning her reddened face as her high heels clicked against the hotel’s travertine floor. She dodged the suitcases that were strewn around the foyer near the check-in desk and finally approached the revolving doors that led to the parking lot. Keisha pushed her way through, fighting back the tears as she did so. When she arrived outside, she felt a blast of cold air from the crisp February evening and heard the steady chug of the hotel shuttle bus as it pulled up to the curb. A second later, she landed hard on the concrete walkway.
In the midst of her distraction she had run into something massive, something solid. She slowly shook her head and looked up—dazed, expecting to find a brick wall. Instead she discovered the frowning face of one of the most handsome men she had ever seen—outside of a soap opera. Even a woman like her who wasn’t easily distracted by an attractive face could see that this guy was definitely gorgeous, downright delectable.
“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly, grabbing her hands and tugging her to her feet. “I’m really sorry. I should have paid attention to where I was going.”
She stared up into his warm, dark brown eyes and was suddenly at a loss for words. Heat seemed to radiate from his hands, up her arms, and across her entire body, making her pulse quicken. A nest of butterflies started to flutter in her stomach. Keisha croaked helplessly, willing herself to speak. Instead her mouth hung open like that of a dead fish.
She watched as he tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow. His frown deepened. “Are…you…okay?” he repeated once again, enunciating the words slowly this time as if she were lip reading or English wasn’t her first language.
He was several inches taller than she was with a soft, cinnamon brown complexion that was accented by his jet black brows, heavy lashes, goatee, and the fine curls on his closely cropped head. He smelled nice, too, so nice that part of Keisha wanted to bury her face in his chest again so that she could inhale the rest of his scent, which was a mixture of aftershave and soap, and all man.
Keisha, what are you doing, a voice inside her head asked. You’re salivating over some stranger when the biggest night of your life is going on right now! Snap out of it!
Keisha blinked, regaining her senses. She loudly cleared her throat before politely pulling her hands out of his grasp.
“I’m…I’m fine,” she finally mumbled, tucking behind her ear a lock of hair that had escaped from her chignon. She adjusted her suit jacket and wiped at her skirt. “Sorry for running into you. I can be clumsy sometimes.”
“No, my apologies,” he said. He finally smiled, revealing a deep dimple in his left cheek. “I think I was the one that ran into you.”
For some reason she couldn’t meet his eyes, so she stared at the lapels of a fairly expensive, tailored charcoal suit that showed off his broad shoulders and solid, Olympic swimmer-like build. Keisha took a deep breath as she scanned his no-nonsense white shirt and baby-blue tie. She could tell this guy was headed somewhere important, and, from the way he looked, he obviously meant business. If a woman waited on the other end of his mission…
“She’s one lucky girl,” Keisha absently muttered.
He frowned again. “Excuse me?”
Keisha blinked. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I was…I mean it was…never mind.” She gave a half smile and slowly walked around him with eyes downcast.
“Is it that bad?” he asked.
Keisha turned and suddenly looked up. When her eyes met that handsome face again, her heartbeat began to race. “What? Oh!” She smiled with embarrassment. “No, the fall wasn’t that bad. I have a lot of…umm…cushion,” she murmured, as she momentarily touched her posterior.
His smile widened. “That’s good to hear. Actually, I meant whatever is putting that worried look on your face…in your eyes,” he said quietly. “I hope it isn’t that bad.”
She tilted her head, finding it odd that someone would show this much concern for a total stranger. She shrugged. “It’s just that it’s…it’s an important night,” Keisha explained, having no idea why she was telling him this. “There’s a lot of pressure…on me.”
He slowly nodded. “I see,” he said softly.
“I just don’t…I just don’t want to mess up,” she blurted out, despite herself. Keisha stood awkwardly in front of him, shifting from one foot to the other. “I feel like I’m just not prepared for all…that’s…happening. Everyone’s expectations are so high and…and…”
He gazed at her with bemusement.
Oh, God, she thought. Here I am babbling and he has absolutely no idea what I’m talking about. Why couldn’t he just let her slink away?
His face suddenly softened and he fixed her with a warm gaze. “Well,” he began, “all you can do is try your best and hope for the best, right? No one can fault you for that.”
Keisha nodded. “You’re right. Th-that’s true,” she mumbled. “You…have a good night,” she said over her shoulder with a halfhearted wave after she abruptly turned on her heel. She began to quickly walk away from the revolving doors, now thoroughly embarrassed by her ineptness.
“You have a good night, too,” he called after her. “I hope things get better.”
Keisha thought she could still feel his eyes boring into her back, but when she was about ten yards away she turned—only to find that he was no longer there. She let out a deflated sigh.
Real smooth, Keisha, she thought, rolling her eyes. Real smooth.