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Deja sat up in bed and finger-combed her tousled hair. Dread and disgust filled her belly. “I gotta hurry up and get back to work.”
Rodney leaned toward her, his rough cheek rubbing against Deja’s, and pecked her lips. “You sure you have to leave?”
“We shouldn’t be doing this, and I have a random mid-week wedding to work before I get Miles. You need to leave too.” She threw his black-and-white plaid boxers at him.
Rodney caught the boxers then lay back on the pillow, satisfaction evident on his face. Though in his forties, he looked a decade younger and kept himself in great shape, one of the reasons Deja kept allowing him back in her bed.
Deja slipped her arms into her business shirt then grabbed her cream skirt off the chair and squeezed into it. Whoever made the rule that people shouldn’t wear white after Labor Day obviously hadn’t seen this skirt or the way it hugged Deja’s slender abs but allowed for the curve in her hips and backside. It definitely deserved to be worn year round, and she needed to look her best at the wedding.
In the bathroom, she scrubbed her sweaty neck and chest with a soapy washcloth. A couple sprays of her floral perfume masked the scent of the afternoon tryst, but she couldn’t rid herself of the shame and increasingly overwhelming guilt. After touching up her makeup, she’d made up her mind. She hurried back to her room.
Rodney still hadn’t moved, but his face lit up when Deja approached. “One more time?”
Deja stopped in the doorway, buttoning her shirt. “It’s over, Rodney. I can’t do this anymore.”
Rodney chuckled. “You’ve been saying that for the past six months.”
Deja cut her eyes at him. “I mean it this time. I’m outta here. Leave your key under the doormat after you leave.” She marched through her apartment, ignoring his protests.
Grabbing her keys off the kitchen counter, Deja headed out the door. Inhaling the crisp afternoon air, she jogged down the path to her beat-up Honda, her heels click-clacking on the pavement. She hopped in her car, and classical music soon filled it: a Bach piece. Deja’d loved classical music ever since her junior high field trip to the San Francisco symphony. After that, whenever the fighting escalated between her mom and whoever her boyfriend at the time happened to be, Deja would turn up the classical music station to drown out the yelling.
Her phone beeped. She lowered the music and accepted the call. “I’m working.”
“Smile when you see my number. It translates over the phone,” Kevin said.
Deja rolled her eyes. “I said I’m working. What’s up?”
“You’d better be working. And you know what’s up. You owe me. I’ve given you one month, and now it’s time to collect!”
Deja’s hands grew clammy. “I’m not ready. I need more time to—”
“I’ll be down this weekend.”
“Don’t—”
The call ended.
“Dammit!” Deja pounded the steering wheel.
She turned the radio back up, trying to let the violins soothe her rattled nerves, but her body burned with anger. She navigated the car into a parking spot at the hotel. After she shut off the engine, she closed her eyes and pictured Miles. She was doing this for him. Regardless of the past, she needed to keep it together.
After slamming the car door shut, she loaded the dolly with work supplies then dashed to the hotel to set up. The beauty of the venue helped ease the call’s sting. She loved these types of places that were so expensive she couldn’t even afford the bottled water. Ever since seeing Bella and Edward’s wedding in her favorite movie series, the Twilight Saga, she’d been dying to help create beautiful moments like that. She couldn’t see herself actually ever getting married, but she often daydreamed of the day when she would be a guest, not the staff.
Raquel waved. “Deja, over here.”
Deja wheeled the dolly over to her boss, admiring the chandelier sparkling in the middle of the lobby. A faint scent of wood mixed with a bit of leather clung to the air. “Hey.”
Raquel wore a stern expression. “You’re late. Gary Thompson just got here. I need you to work your magic.”
“Okay. Where?” Deja inhaled a deep breath and scanned the room for the president of Silicon Valley Has A Heart.
Raquel pointed to a man with receding blond hair and a large potbelly. He headed the most prominent nonprofit foundation in the South Bay area. Even from a distance, he appeared rich. Though Silicon Valley Has A Heart was known for its charity, Gary Thompson had a reputation for philandering.
“Now, all we need is an introduction. But if we can get in his good graces, this could be the break we’ve been waiting for.”
Deja retrieved her compact and reapplied red lipstick. “Got it. How do I look?” She smoothed down her pencil skirt.
Raquel unbuttoned two of Deja’s shirt’s buttons, revealing more cleavage. “Better.”
Deja headed to the bar where Mr. Thompson chatted with the bartender. “The bride needs club soda, please,” she said to the bartender. She faced Mr. Thompson. “Oh, I’m sorry. How rude of me.”
“No worries,” Mr. Thompson said, his eyes glued to Deja’s cleavage. “Anything for the bride. She’s my grandniece.”
“Really? Laura’s your grandniece? I work for the event company that planned the wedding. But I thought you would be in the wedding party.” Deja gave him a coy smile.
Mr. Thompson raised an eyebrow. “You’re cute. What’s your name?”
“Deja.”
“I hope it’s Déjà vu because I’d love to see you again.” Mr. Thompson winked.
Deja forced her eyes not to roll. If she had a dollar for every time she’d heard that, she’d be richer than Mr. Thompson. She handed him her business card. “I’m behind the scenes during the wedding, but if you ever need help with an event, this is where I can be reached.”
“I might need that. I’m Gary Thompson, by the way.” He extended his hand. The cut of the suit jacket gave away that it was an Armani, and the Rolex on his wrist had to have cost a fortune. Mr. Thompson’s whole persona screamed old money, and one of his paychecks would probably be more than enough to shut Kevin up for good.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Thompson.” Deja gently shook his hand. “Enjoy the wedding.” Club soda in hand, she swished her hips as she strutted away.
“He’s still staring,” Raquel squealed when Deja returned.
Better be. “I gave him my card as planned. I have a feeling he’ll follow up.” Deja and Raquel headed to their makeshift office in the hotel.
“Oh, believe me. I’m going to reel him in like a fish when he does.” Raquel circled her hands, pretending to hold a fishing pole. “You’ve done your job by getting his attention. And after our first meeting, I’ll take it from there.”
Deja liked that idea. The last thing she needed was another man expecting something from her. She’d have to call Kevin back and convince him not to come this weekend. He was the last person she wanted to see. Once out of Thompson’s view, she dumped the club soda in a plant’s pot. “Let’s get to work. I still have to get Miles.”
Hopefully, Nina wouldn’t mind her being late. Even though she didn’t work, Nina always seemed exhausted. Black bags clung under her eyes. Her brown skin was lackluster, like she needed some sun, and her curly hair was always unruly. And here Deja was, asking her to watch her child. Well... People gotta do what they gotta do.