Passion's Song. Farrah Rochon
I miss a text from you or something?”
“No, no. I’m sorry for not calling first, but I’m hoping I can steal a few minutes of your time.”
“Do you have an answer to the favor I asked for earlier?” he asked, hopefulness pushing away that earlier curiosity.
“I do,” April said. She looked over at Clarissa, who was blatantly hanging on to every word. “Is there somewhere we can go to discuss it?”
Damien’s eyes flashed to his receptionist. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “We can go to my office.”
April followed him into a spacious office done in the same modern furnishings as the rest of the suite. He pointed to a small sitting area. “Have a seat. Can I get you some coffee? Water?”
“No, thanks,” April said.
He poured himself a cup of water from a glass pitcher.
“Okay, so are you going to help me out?” Damien asked.
April clasped her hands and released a deep breath before saying, “Yes, I will.” Relief washed over Damien’s face. “But, there’s a catch,” she tacked on.
His relief turned to suspicion. “A catch?”
“Maybe catch is the wrong word,” she said. “Think of it as an agreement between the two of us. You’ll get what you want, and I will get what I want.”
“Why do I sense a Knight ambush coming on?” Damien asked.
“There is no such thing as a Knight ambush,” April countered.
“Are you serious? You’re the queen of ambushes. Do you remember all those surprise study sessions you used to spring on me? They still give me nightmares.”
“But those study sessions helped you in the end, didn’t they?”
The corner of his mouth curled in that sexy little smile that made April’s stomach flutter.
“Yeah, they did,” Damien admitted. He perched his backside on the edge of the desk and crossed his feet at the ankles. “Okay, so what exactly is it that you want out of this bargain?”
“Let me just start out by saying that you’ve been an amazing financial contributor to A Fresh Start. Whenever I’ve asked you to donate, you’ve given without hesitating, and it goes without saying that the program wouldn’t be the success it is today without the support of Alexander Properties and other local businesses like yours.”
“Can we get to the catch?” Damien asked. “Not to rush you or anything, but I can actually feel myself growing older by the minute.”
“Nice to know that sense of humor is still as abysmal as always,” she said.
He laughed. “Come on, April. Just lay it out for me.”
“Well, the financial support is wonderful, but it takes more than money to run a program like A Fresh Start. It takes warm bodies,” she said. “And not just any warm bodies, but ones the kids can relate to.”
His eyes narrowed. “You can’t possibly mean me,” Damien said.
“Of course I mean you,” she said.
“You think a bunch of teenagers can relate to me? I don’t even like kids.”
“It doesn’t matter how you feel about them now. What matters is that you were a smart-mouthed knucklehead back when you were these kids’ ages.”
“So sweet of you to bring that up.”
“I bring it up because you’re not a knucklehead anymore, although that smart mouth seems to have remained.” April rose from her chair and walked over to his desk. She leaned against it, mimicking his pose. “These kids need to see that someone who was once running the hundred-yard dash down the wrong path could change his life around so drastically. They need to see that there is a different way out of the Lower Ninth Ward besides being the next rapper or playing football.”
“But it was football that initially got me out of there. Without football, I wouldn’t have gotten that scholarship to Alcorn State.”
“The scholarship was your foot in the door, but you worked your butt off to earn your degree.”
“With the help of a certain music major helping me every step of the way,” he said.
The gratitude in his words warmed her from the inside out.
“You were well worth the effort,” April said. “And so are many of these kids.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “So, what is it you want from me?”
“I want you to teach a course on money management at A Fresh Start. Nothing too intense, just something to start the kids on the right path when it comes to handling money. Many of them have summer jobs, and with the addition of the café, we’re giving even more of them skills to make them employable. They need to learn the importance of not blowing all their hard-earned money all at once on payday.”
Damien groaned. “Do you know how busy I am?”
“And you think I’m not? You want me to accompany you to all of these fancy events. Do you have any idea what that entails? I’ll have to do hair, makeup, try on at least a half-dozen dresses until I decide to go with my first choice—”
He put his hands up. “Okay, okay.”
“Everyone is busy, Damien. All I’m asking for is an hour of your time once a week for the next six weeks. Think about how valuable something like this would have been back when you had your first job bagging groceries at the Winn-Dixie supermarket.”
He expelled the kind of put-out sigh that made it seem as if she were demanding his firstborn.
“Really, Damien, would it be so hard to give up just one hour a week? I’ll even help plan the classes. In fact, I’ll help you come up with a syllabus. I’ve been thinking about ideas since I left A Fresh Start. For example, I think some kind of game centered around investing would be fun—”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Damien said, holding up both hands. “I haven’t even agreed to do this yet.”
“Okay,” April said. “But you should know that if you want me to join you at all your little fancy shindigs, you have to teach the class.”
His mouth fell open. “I can’t believe you’re really going to blackmail me.”
“This isn’t blackmail.”
“Yes, it is. You refuse to help me unless I cave to your demands.”
“This is a business negotiation, Damien. You should be well versed in how the game is played.”
“Oh, I’ve played the game,” he said. He started to pace back and forth in front of her. “I just never thought my own friend would be my opponent.”
“Well, think again,” April said. “This class may play a key role in something we’re planning for A Fresh Start, and if I have to blackmail you in order to make sure it happens, then that’s what I’ll do.”
“I thought it wasn’t blackmail?”
“Can we please stop fighting over semantics and get on with it? You’re getting older by the minute, remember?”
Damien chuckled. “When did you get to be so feisty? I think I like this side of you, despite the fact that you’re blackmailing me.”
April ordered her cheeks not to blush, for all the good that did. She could feel her skin warming.
Damien finished off the water he’d poured earlier, then walked over to the credenza and refilled his glass. Turning back to face her, he slid one hand in his pocket and gestured toward her with his glass.
“Before I agree to this, I want to know about