AlTonya Washington - Every Chance I Get

Misha arrived late to the daily budget meeting for The Stamper Court. The business crew always gave their input toward the end of the meeting. Staff writer Trenda Greene was giving her report when Misha got there.

“You okay?” Riley asked when Misha took the seat next to hers and nodded quickly.

“Is there anything else, folks?” Riley addressed the group when Trenda concluded her report. “Wendell?”

“We all know this subject’s taboo here at The New Chronicle.” Wendell Stevenson tapped a hand to the stack of papers he stood before. “But I feel it’s important to note that our competition has seen healthy revenue increases since they’ve added entertainment sections to their pubs.”

Everyone groaned. Some threw wadded balls of paper at The Stamper Court’s accountant. Overall, The New Chronicle family was pretty much in agreement that celebrity gossip wasn’t the sort of news they were interested in. Since one of their own ran in such circles, much of that agreement was in a show of support for Riley’s and Asher’s right to privacy. Besides, Cache Media, the Chronicle’s parent company, never complained of the money woes which had driven the competition to incorporate more sensational news into their publications.

“I just think it deserves to be mentioned!” Wendell smiled when the group silenced. What the accountant lacked in height, he made up for in strength of voice. “The brass at those pubs are already crediting their entertainment inserts with the revenue surge—more revenue means more readers. Readers who most likely aren’t reading our paper.”

“Thanks, Wendell.” Riley made a note to her agenda. “The Court, as you know, wouldn’t be able to accommodate such a section, but you’re welcome to carry your suggestion higher up the chain.”

“Yeah, Wendell, maybe you could write the first piece.” Frederick Mears’s comment roused a chuckle from the table. “I’ve heard rumors of a boxer who may be havin’ an affair with his sister.”

“All right, everybody. Meeting adjourned! Thanks, Wendell.” Riley smiled apologetically. She and Misha remained seated while the room cleared. “You look drained,” Riley said while swiveling her chair to and fro.

“I just saw your husband.”

“Ah.” Riley folded her arms across the gold cap-sleeved sweater she wore. “He does have that effect on women.” She tilted her head, hoping to rouse a smile from Misha.

It worked, but only for a moment. “He said Talib loved me—that he wouldn’t give up until he saw this thing through between us.”

“How do you feel about that?”

Misha only shook her head.

“You know whatever’s happening or about to happen is only gonna put you through more hell unless you step up and face him.”

“Humph.” Misha rested her head against the chair and smiled. “You’re right.”

“’Course I’m right.” Riley nudged Misha’s boot with the tip of her pump and believed she was seeing the first genuine smile her friend had produced in days. “Why are you giving him all this control over your emotions, anyway? Show him who you are, who you’ve become. Make him eat his words for requesting you on this story. Torture him a bit. The driver’s seat should be shared, right?”

Misha shook her head over Riley’s cunning. “You’ve definitely been hanging around me way too long.”

Talib was tapping an envelope to the crease of his trousers when Asher walked into the office the next morning. Finding his partner perched on the edge of the desk and staring past the windows brought a slight sharpness to Asher’s expression. Then he noticed Talib scan the envelope and smiled.

“That what I think it is?”

“An invite to Jasper and Molly Faison’s couples’ weekend,” Talib explained.

“When they first mentioned it last year, I was sure it was just talk.” Asher grinned and went to shuffle through the folders his partner left for him to review. “Why’d you get an invite?”

Talib laughed shortly. “No bloody idea.”

“So whose day are you gonna make by asking?”

Talib studied the invite again. “There’s only one who that I’d want to take.”

“Misha.” Asher settled down in an armchair before the desk and crossed his legs at the ankle. “You know there’s a good chance she got one of those, too.”

A low sound rumbled in Talib’s throat and he tossed the dainty envelope to the desk. “Do you think she’d take someone else?” He looked around to see Asher shrug. “You know something.” He turned to face his friend. “Is she seeing someone?”

“Calm down, Tal.” Asher easily recognized the rising rage in his partner’s dark eyes.

“Has Riley said anything?” Talib left the desk and walked over to observe the cloudy day. “Hell, it’d make sense if Misha was seeing someone. She’s…an incredible woman. And I’ve certainly got no claim to her.”

“Would you stop this, man?” Asher grimaced and walked over to slap Talib’s shoulder. “Why don’t you just ask her to go? See what she says.”

Talib stroked his jaw methodically, turning the idea over in his head.

“You’re afraid she’ll say no if you ask?”

“Half.” He leaned on the window. “The other half is afraid she’ll say yes.”

Again, Asher slapped Talib’s shoulder and turned for the office door. “I guess you just have to ask which half you’re more afraid of.”

Misha was seated at a table in the popular but unusually quiet Orton’s Café. To her delight, she’d beaten the lunch crowd and secured a cozy table with a fine view of the rainy conditions past the bay windows lining the establishment.

Unfortunately, the view was lost on Misha as she was currently engaged in an agitating phone conversation with her best friend.

“Well, I had nothing to do with it,” Riley insisted. “And you knew Jas and Molly were planning it when we were all out at Vic’s ranch.”

Misha slumped against the booth as her memory freshened.

“And they probably just invited everyone who was out there. Anyway…”

“Anyway…?” Misha prompted as she straightened. “Riley?”

“I mean it’s…it’s understandable that Molly would invite you and probably Talib, too. Anybody can tell there’s still emotion there.”

“Well, I haven’t—”

“Now hold on, just hold it.” Riley’s voice was near a whisper. “I don’t even think you or Talib are aware of what you give off. In my very humble opinion, I say you guys should at least talk it over, lay all your cards on the table. Maybe that’s all it’d take to start moving past all the drama.”

“Easy for you to say.” Misha rolled her eyes at her laptop resting on the table.

“Hey, I’ve been there, remember?”

“I remember.”

“So let me share what I’ve learned, okay? Maybe you can get some use out of it. Heck, put it to use tonight at Vic’s dinner party.”

“Crap.”

“You forgot about that, didn’t you?”

Very much so, Misha silently confessed to herself. The New Chronicle had put together a celebration to honor its former employee and his first year as a professional basketball player.

“Thanks for reminding me.”

“Where are you, anyway? What’s all that background talking?”

“I’m gonna try to help Coyt fine-tune his revisions to some of his pieces.”

Riley laughed. “Good luck with that.”

Misha nodded, thinking of their overly descriptive junior staff writer. “Anyway, we’re meeting over here at Orton’s.”

“Well, I’ll let you get to it, then. Think about what I said, all right?”

Misha promised to do so and was tucking the cell into her bag when she looked toward the café’s entrance for Coyt. She found Talib Mason entering instead, along with two men she didn’t recognize.