welcomed Laylah into her office with a toothpaste-white smile and a slight nod of her head. “What can I do you for, sweet girl?”
Laylah laughed at the backward way Constance had posed the question. “The retirement party for Patricia. Can you give me an update?”
“I’d be happy to. Have a seat while I get everything together.” Constance opened the file drawer connected to her desk and instantly came up with the correct folder.
Laylah took a moment to peruse the file. Instead of taking it with her, she wrote down all the pertinent information. When she was finished, she looked up at Constance and smiled. “You’re a woman after my own heart. You keep very detailed records.” Laylah got to her feet. “I hate to run, but the boss wants this STAT. It’s his time of the month again.”
Constance laughed. “Either that or he hasn’t been laid in a while.”
“That’s probably more like it,” Laylah said, chuckling softly.
“All he has to do to remedy the situation is take Amelia up on her obvious body language. She’d be only too happy to turn out the brother. The girl is on fire for him.”
“You’re too bad. I’m out.” Laylah wasn’t going to touch that comment.
Laylah set the manila folder on the right-hand corner of March’s desk. “All the information you’re after is inside here, sir,” she said, pointing at the file. She then turned and walked away, gritting her teeth out of sheer frustration.
“Not so fast, young lady,” he said. “I need you to go over with me what’s in this folder. You seem to be in an awful hurry.”
Laylah turned sharply on her heel and looked dead into March’s eyes. “I don’t know about you, but I have very important work to do. All you have to do is open the folder and read what’s inside. You can read, can’t you?”
March’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits, hoping Laylah read the danger sign there. It would serve her well to check her tongue. “I can read, but I’d rather you read it to me.”
Exasperated was an understatement for what Laylah felt. She had two choices: she could stay and read the contents of the file to him or she could go back to her desk and finish her feature story. Selecting the last option would more than likely get her fired.
Taking the least controversial way out, Laylah opted to sit back down, praying for an abundance of patience. Slowly, almost methodically, she picked up the folder and opened it. She then read to March the date, time and location of Patricia Blakeley’s retirement dinner, the projected number of guests who had already RSVP’d, the regrets and the numbers of those who hadn’t responded one way or the other.
The meal choices and prices per person were run down for March, as well as the company information on the DJ and his fees. Last but not least, Laylah gave March the list of gifts suggested for the retiree. “No final decision on a gift has been made.”
“What’s the total projected budget for all this?” March queried Laylah.
After turning the folder around so March could see the top sheet, she pointed at the last set of numbers. “Those are the bottom-line figures.”
March whistled. “That’s a lot of money to spend on someone unworthy. Well, I guess it’s a small price to pay to finally be rid of her. Patricia is a constant thorn in my side. The woman has too much darn mouth. I hope I never hear her speak again.”
Laylah understood all too well why March had made such ignorant statements. Patricia was one of the employees who had made several complaints against him. She made no secret regarding the way she felt about him, telling anyone who’d listen that March was an inadequate administrator, one that should’ve never been hired.
Laylah agreed with Patricia wholeheartedly.
“Now that you have everything you’ve requested, may I please return to work?”
March looked down his wide nose at Laylah. “By all means. Thank you.”
The polite way in which March had last spoken had Laylah wondering if she’d heard him correctly. Even when he tried to be nice he still annoyed her, just as his condescending look had done. “You’re welcome.” Hoping she could get out of March’s office without any further communication with him, Laylah rushed to the exit.
March cleared his throat. “Hope you meet your deadline. Being late won’t look good for your record, especially on your next evaluation.”
If I have my way, you’ll never do another evaluation at this newspaper.
After Laylah returned to her desk, she sat down and began pounding away at the computer keys. Staying focused was a must if she was to meet her deadline. There had been enough disruptions already—and now she had to put her nose to the grindstone.
Less than an hour later, Laylah skidded into the printing area, where she handed over her feature story to Sean Lackland, the senior copy editor.
As Laylah cleaned off the vacant tables inside the shelter, Second Chances, she smiled beautifully at several other volunteers who had just sat down to eat. Her lovely gray eyes dazzled in the same way her effervescent personality did. She was always sweet and polite to everyone who came into the shelter. Folks loved her because she was so genuine. Though small in stature, she had a huge heart overflowing with love.
As a volunteer at the homeless shelter, her second gig, her duties pretty much ran the gamut. If she wasn’t serving meals, she could be found cleaning various areas of the shelter, stocking shelves with food and other items, or passing out new or used clean clothing. From time to time she helped Pastor Ross Grinage with the bookkeeping and any other duties he needed her to perform. She also wrote the shelter’s monthly newsletter. The patrons actually enjoyed reading her writings.
Laylah had very little personal time and she liked it that way. Keeping busy kept her from being too lonely. Since she hadn’t been involved in a serious relationship in quite some time, she was actually fearful of getting into another romantic saga.
Benjamin Irvine, the shelter’s founder and CEO, walked up to Laylah and gave her a warm hug. “How’s my favorite girl?”
She smiled wearily. “A little tired, but still blessed.”
She noticed that Benjamin had just gotten his wavy white hair cut and neatly edged. In her opinion, he was a nice-looking man, a very personable one. Standing around six feet, he towered over Laylah’s frame. The man was sort of an exercise freak, working out six days a week. He was single and was currently looking for the right woman to enhance his life.
“How long will you be working this evening?”
Laylah hunched her shoulders. “As long as I’m needed. Is it my imagination or are the numbers of the homeless increasing? I’ve seen so many new faces this month.”
Benjamin sighed hard. “Unfortunately, this particular population is growing by leaps and bounds. What’s really frightening is that many of the newer ones who’ve wandered in here lately were once high-salaried professionals. It makes me wonder.”
“I know.” Laylah nodded. “Just the other day I talked to a guy who’s an engineer. The company he worked for folded unexpectedly, leaving
