I could make that happen in a couple of days.”
Gage Vincent kept his eyes fixed on the open folder, which had been hoarding his attention for the past ten minutes. The response from his assistant commanded a smile that accentuated his words with imminent laughter when he finally spoke.
“Jay wants ten days, I’m giving him ten days,” Gage told the young man who occupied the paper-littered sofa on the other side of the office suite.
Webb Reese’s chuckle was a touch muffled behind the papers he held close to his attractive, heavily bearded face. “You taking a ten-day break? That’ll be a first.”
Gage’s face held a stony yet sly expression.
In a show of defense, Webb raised his hands, sending the papers sprinkling down onto the black suede of the sofa. “Just sayin’,” he sang.
Gage returned his focus to the folder, shut it and gave it a wave in Webb’s direction. “Time to start earning that insane salary I’m paying you.”
Webb’s nod was brief. His earlier playfulness had now adopted a more solemn element. “You’re really leaving it all up to me?”
Gage’s lone dimple made a quick appearance when he smiled that time. “You’ve earned it.” He watched Webb come forward to claim the file.
“This is a big deal, boss.” Webb emphasized the reminder by giving the folder a deliberate shake.
“Sure is.” A thick glossy brow rose with challenging intent and Gage studied his assistant of five years with a look of mock suspicion. “Have you learned nothing from your vast experience in my presence?”
Webb attempted to laugh over the tease but seemed too nervous to do so.
Taking pity, Gage pushed aside the other files that required his attention. He reared back in his desk chair while leveling a deep chocolaty-brown stare at Webb.
“I’m leaving this to you because I trust you to handle it right.” Gage inclined his head slightly when he noticed Webb’s eyes widen. “I have a building full of people who’d be happy to chime in with their two cents, argue against your points of view and suggest I fire you upon my return.”
Webb laughed then.
The “building full of people” Gage had referred to—more specifically, the senior executive staff—were all employed by Vincent Industries and Development, or VID, as it was more affectionately known locally—in and around Charlotte, NC—nationally and internationally.
“I need someone to have my back on this, Webb.” Gage was serious, which was made evident by the intermittent flash of the lighter hues in his rich gaze. “You’re the only one who knows my tastes. You know what offers I think have merit and which ones I think are bullshit. In short, you won’t just accept a bid based on the amount of zeroes it brings with it. You’ll look at the people the bid is attached to, their backgrounds, the people attached to them and their backgrounds.”
Webb’s emerging toothy smile hinted at his appreciation of Gage’s words.
“Are you saying you don’t think your top circle of people will care about those things?” he asked.
“My top circle cares about the money they make me.” Gage reared back again in the desk chair, which coordinated with the sofa and other office furnishings. “That’s one reason they belong to my top circle— because I care about the money they make me.
“But I also care about the pockets that money comes from before it comes to mine,” Gage shared once the round of low laughter between him and Webb subsided. “That care involves certain hands-on work that I won’t be able to be a part of, as I’ll be off somewhere wasting my time.”
Webb’s laughter then sounded abrupt. “Dang, sir, you make it sound like a hassle.”
“A hassle.” Gage focused on a point across his expansive office and appeared to be turning the word over in his mind as he reflected upon the observation. “It’s not exactly a hassle. I just don’t see the positive in bringing together the bridal party before the wedding.” He shrugged, sending a ripple through the crisp fabric of the olive-green shirt he wore.
“You’ve known me and my gang long enough, Webb. My boys and I can find drama where none should ever exist. Mix in the bride and her gang... Well...you get the picture I’m trying to create here....”
“It could still make for less drama,” Webb said, evidently adopting the role of devil’s advocate. “Think of it as a chance to meet and get to know each other on a less stressful level before all the real pre-wedding festivities get under way.”
“Less stressful.” Sighing, Gage massaged his eyes while considering the upcoming bachelor-and-bachelorette getaway that had been suggested by the bride-to-be.
“It’s also a time to get to know the bride better,” Webb added while moving to collect the papers that had been strewn around the office during the course of the morning’s meeting.
Resting his head back on the chair, Gage bridged his fingers and factored that element into his thinking. His oldest friend, Jayson Muns, had recently stunned his close group of friends with news of his engagement to Orchid Benjamin. The woman’s background boasted old money. Old as in antebellum old, rare for an African-American family of the South, but it was what it was.
Unfortunately, Jay’s black society princess had a reputation that had been earned on the wilder side. It was a reputation that Jayson seemed totally oblivious to.
“Ten days in the Caribbean...” Webb reminded him. “And I’m betting it won’t be any hardship on the eyes at all to be around Ms. Benjamin and her crew. You can learn a lot about people by the friends they keep.”
Webb continued his tidying—and missed Gage smiling miserably in agreement.
* * *
Myrna Fisher used her free hand to pile her shoulder-length bobbed hair into a loose dark ball atop her head. With that done, she reinserted the outfit just below her chin. She’d folded down the hanger to improve her observation in the full-length mirror.
“If I didn’t know you better, I’d swear your ambition was the only thing motivating you to take this trip.” Myrna barely turned her head to throw her voice across her shoulder.
Alythia Duffy snuggled deeper into the tousle of thick pillows along the head of the high-canopied bed. Her bright eyes never left the snow globe as she shifted it upside down, right-side up and back again.
“I don’t know any better,” Alythia conceded, the bulk of her attention on the rush of white confetti drifting down around a miniature replica of the Charlotte skyline.
In playful retaliation, Myrna tossed the outfit she’d been debating over. The garment landed across Aly’s bare feet, which were only partially visible given all the other articles of clothing Myrna had tossed there during her rushed packing job.
“In spite of my cluelessness, ambition isn’t my only reason for going.” Alythia defended herself in a tone harboring a fair share of mock indignance.
“But it is a reason?” Myrna challenged. Silence met her query and she did an about-face
