ROMANCING THE BULLDOG (6 page)

know. But then she dismissed it, and leaned back. She then closed her eyes.

Jason felt a tinge of something shoot through him when she closed her eyes. Her gorgeous,

smoky brown eyes, he noted. He, in fact, couldn’t take his own eyes off of her. She’d grown

into a beauty, he thought, with her short, bouncy hair, her smooth, cocoa brown skin, her long,

elegant neck, her slender, athletic-looking body. Everything about her turned him on.

But she looked so defeated when he first had Boris back up the limo after realizing they had

splashed her. And why was she rushing to catch a city bus anyway? Hamp’s daughter of all

people? How could his daughter be a woman without wheels? And why, he wondered, was

she sitting across from him in her muddy white pantsuit and damaged high heels looking, not

like the smart, sophisticated lady she should have been, but like somebody at the end of her

rope? What has happened to her? Why did she have to leave Philadelphia and accept what he

was willing to bet was a significant step down position in the first place?

She had a story to tell, he knew. But he also knew she would never tell that story to him.

And for some odd reason, that saddened him.

As if she could feel his eyes assessing her, she opened hers. He smiled, although he was

shaken by that almost dull look in her eyes. “Comfy?” he asked her.

She immediately took offense. “You’re the one who insisted on giving me a ride when you

knew I was dripping wet and looked like a mud pie. So don’t even try complaining about it

now.”

Although he didn’t like her testiness, he was nonetheless pleased that she was beginning to

show some life. “I’m not complaining, Elizabeth. I’m glad to have you.”

“And why’s that?” Liz asked him, genuinely curious. Stephen apparently was too, because

he also looked at his boss.

“Why’s what?” Jason asked, as if he didn’t get it.

“Why would you be so thrilled to have a dripping-wet black woman riding around in your

fancy limousine? What could possibly be in it for you?”

“Uh-oh,” he said. “That Philly side of you is beginning to show. And here I was thinking I

had a nice, sweet little virgin girl on my hands.”

At first Liz was mortified that he would go there. She even glanced at Stephen to see if he

caught the reference, but Stephen was too busy pecking away into his Blackberry to catch

anything. Then Liz found herself laughing, her head leaned back revealing her long, attractive

neck, her once-tensed body now slumped into a relaxed posture. Jason smiled too, although he

viewed her reaction as a little excessive. Was his comment, which was meant to be a mild joke

at best,
that
far off base? She was reacting as if calling her innocent was like calling a

prostitute virtuous. He took her virginity, yes, but that didn’t mean she had lost all innocence.

At least he prayed it didn’t.

“You okay?” Jason asked when her laughter wouldn’t cease. She even began coughing, as

if she’d never heard anything so outlandish.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said, between gulps of laughter. “I’m sorry.”

But when she still wouldn’t let up, he said: “I don’t think it was
that
funny, Elizabeth, come

on.”

“No, it wasn’t that funny,” she said. “It wasn’t that funny at all. It’s just that. . . it was

needful.” She looked at him and cleared her throat. And in just that moment, that quick,

ephemeral moment, they communicated something. Her forgiveness, perhaps, for splashing

her, for taking her virginity, maybe? But what was he communicating? He nor she could say.

But something transpired between them.

Neither bothered it again and they settled down into quietness. Stephen continued pecking

away into his Blackberry, and Jason continued staring at Liz. But Liz felt better now. She

couldn’t say why. She was still drenched. She was still living in a town that was almost as

harsh as Philly had been to her. And she still had no car, even though one of the duties of her

job required that she keep reliable transportation.

When Manny, the repair shop owner, had told her that it would take three thousand dollars

to get her beloved Mustang back on the road, she couldn’t do anything but stand there. He

may as well had told her that it would take three million dollars to repair, because she didn’t

have that either.

And then he suggested that she go to her local bank and take out a loan, that many of his

customers take care of their repair costs that way. Liz nodded, and stated that she would do

just that, although she knew, thanks to her ex in Philly, and many other problems, that no bank

in America would so much as lend her a hand, let alone three thousand dollars.

When the limo stopped in front of the Meyers Center, she thanked Jason and then quickly

moved to get out. When she slid toward the door and was about to stand, however, she

winced as pain shot through her side. Jason saw it.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, reaching for her without touching her.

“Just a little ache, that’s all,” she said, getting out of the limo.

Jason, however, quickly got out behind her and they stood there, with Boris the driver still

holding the door open.

“I’m fine, Jason.”

“Then why did you wince?” he asked, looking down at her body. “Did that fall hurt you

somewhere? You fell on your behind.” Then he smiled, looking toward her backside. “I

thought that would be a pretty good cushion for you.”

Liz, mortified that Jason would say such a thing in front of his driver, began to move away.

Jason grabbed her arm, concern piercing his face. “Wait a minute. You think you need to go

to the hospital?”

“No, of course not.”

“That was a hard fall, Liz. Maybe--”

“It wasn’t from that fall, okay?” She said this, removed her arm from his grasp, and then

began heading toward stairs on the side of the Meyers building.

“Where are you going?” he yelled after her.

“Home,” she said, without breaking her stride.

“Home? Home is up there? I thought this was the Meyers Center.”

“I work at the Center,” Liz said as she began heading up the stairs, “and live in the

apartment upstairs.”

Jason stood there stunned as Stephen also stepped out of the limo. He buttoned his

expensive suit coat as he looked around the neighborhood as if he had just stepped into a third

world country.

“Get a load of this place,” Stephen whispered to him, as if confirming what Jason already

knew: there was nothing livable about these surroundings. Even the Meyers Center was

nothing but a hole-in-the-wall facility in a rundown building in need of a paint job. It was more

a dilapidated, industrial area rather than anything that would suggest residential. From what

Jason could see, in fact, this apartment of Liz’s was about the only non-business, non-

warehouse-type building on the block.

He looked at Liz as she walked away, looked at this woman who once had everything, and

something pricked him deep inside. Before he could even think about it, he began to hurry

behind her. Stephen, however, attempted to stop his progress.

“Sir, you can’t,” he said in a panicky near-whisper.

“Let me just---”

“Sir,” Stephen said firmly, “you know you cannot afford this kind of publicity. We’ve got

to get away from here and we’ve got to get away from here now!”

“Let me just make sure she’s okay,” Jason said, a little miffed at Stephen’s hysterics. He

removed his elbow from Stephen’s grasp and hurried up the rickety stairs that led to the

upstairs apartment, taking two at a time to catch up with Liz.

Stephen could not believe his eyes. The great Jason Rascone, Mr. Conservative himself,

was in the middle of the hood chasing a skirt! And the skirt was Hamilton Morgan’s daughter!

The press would have a field day if they found out about this. That was why Stephen,

alarmed by the prospect and powerless to do anything about it alone, pulled out his Blackberry

as he hurried behind his boss.

But Jason wasn’t thinking about Stephen. Liz was on his mind. All he knew was that she

was in pain, and he wasn’t leaving until he found out why. Because if that fall didn’t do it, as

she claimed, he had to know what did.

Liz had unlocked her door and was about to enter her apartment when Jason made his way

up.

“I told you I was all right. I just need a warm bath.”

“Good,” Jason said, stepping past Liz and entering the apartment ahead of her, “at least we

know the cure. Now tell me what caused the need for the cure.”

Liz was about to object to his intrusion, but Stephen came up the stairs too quickly.

He looked past Liz at his boss. “Sir, we need to get going. The Chamber of Commerce--”

“--won’t even miss me,” Jason finished.

“But, Jace, think how this will look.”

Liz frowned. “How what will look?”

“This! Jason Rascone in this neighborhood, with Hamp Morgan’s daughter, that’s what.”

“What does this neighborhood and my father have to do with anything you’re talking

about?”

“News flash,” Stephen said, “you live in the ghetto. Hello? And the mayor of this town

does not need--”

Liz was stunned. “The
mayor
?” she said and then turned to Jason. “You’re the mayor?

You’re the mayor of Jacksonville?”

“Yes, he’s the mayor,” Stephen answered, “and as I was saying, the mayor of this town

does not need to be implicated in this.”

Liz looked at Stephen. What was he talking about? “Implicated in what?”

“This,” Stephen said, looking around at the peeling paint on Liz’s building, at the group of

rundown buildings beside hers. “Sure, if the media gets wind of it we can claim that the mayor

was just getting to know his constituents, checking in with our less fortunate citizens. We can

play that up. But it could backfire on us, too.”

Liz shook her head. It was as if Stephen was talking in riddles. “What are you talking

about? Play it up? Play
what
up?”

“The fact that the esteemed mayor of our wonderful city is standing in the middle of a

rundown apartment in the middle of this, this God-forsaken place, that’s what.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“That’s southern politics, ma’am,” Stephen corrected her. “And that’s why we need to get

the hell out of here, sir, before the media shows up and starts tossing around real questions.”

“What kind of real questions are you talking about?” Liz asked him.

“Like why was he driving around in the ‘hood to begin with.”

“Maybe because the ‘
hood
, as you call this hard-working community, is his constituency

too.”

Stephen laughed. “Yeah, right. He’s received less than six percent of the African-American

vote in his last two elections. Less than six percent. And that’s both elections combined.

Some constituency!”

“And you blame the African-Americans, I take it?”

“Well it sure ain’t the mayor’s fault that they won’t vote for him.”

“Maybe he hasn’t done anything to earn their votes.”

“Maybe I haven’t at that,” Jason said and Liz got the feeling it was a way to effectively end

the conversation, rather than to add to it. Liz, frustrated enough, shook her head and moved

further into her apartment, leaving Jason at the door to school his obnoxious aide.

“Stephen, I want you to do me a favor.”

“But sir--”

“I want you to go back to the office and round us up a, shall I say, less conspicuous, set of

wheels?”

Stephen seemed lost.

“Since you’re so concerned about how this might look,” Jason added.

It finally dawned on Stephen. “Yes, of course. But surely you aren’t staying?”

“I’m going to make sure she’s okay.”

“But look at this place,” Stephen said again, looking around.

“The longer you stand here arguing with me, or pointing out the flaws of this area, the

longer I’ll be here. Go get a car and come back and pick me up. I’ll be ready by then.”

Stephen didn’t like it, but he didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. He left.

Jason smiled and closed the door. “That guy,” he said with a grin as he turned toward Liz.

Liz was by now in the middle of her living room, her arms folded.

“Look, I really thank you for the ride, but you don’t need to stay here. I told you I’m fine.”

Jason, however, began moving toward her. “Why did you wince when you were getting out

of the limo?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Why did you wince, Elizabeth?”

Liz rolled her eyes. She didn’t want to relive the moment. “Because I had fallen earlier and

I’m a little stiff, okay?”

“But you said that fall didn’t cause this,” Jason said, lightly touching her side.

“Not that fall. Earlier. When I was being mugged.”