Playing for Keeps Read online

  “Jenna, I want to make a change,” Avery said when she met up with her best friend in the foyer of the Dominic Sabatani Salon. Avery was impressed by the opulent furnishings and artistic details. The interior designer had left nothing to chance, from the floor-to-ceiling windows to the Venetian-style glass chandeliers.

  “A change? What kind of change?” Jenna asked excitedly, rubbing her hands together. “Are you finally going to give me the chance to make you over?”

  “Yes,” Avery stated unequivocally. “It’s time I change my image. You know, spice things up.” After last night with Quentin, she’d thought long and hard about how closed off she’d become and had decided she needed a change.

  “What brought this on?” Jenna asked.

  “Well…” Avery started. “I’m not one to kiss and tell, but things between me and the photographer have heated up.”

  Jenna’s eyes grew wide. “How heated did they get?”

  “We nearly made love on the floor of his loft last night,” Avery said and couldn’t resist smiling.

  “Nearly? Why didn’t you finish? If it were me with Quentin Davis, wild horses wouldn’t have been able to pull me out of his bed.”

  Avery shrugged and slid her fingers through her hair. “I don’t know, Jenna…. Call it what you want. Fear. Propriety. Lack of confidence. I don’t know. And even though I wanted him as much as he wanted me, something stopped me. And life is much too short for regrets.”

  “And you think a makeover is going to instantly change that?” Jenna snapped her fingers. “It will give you self-confidence, but, my dear, the rest is up to you.”

  “Well, then let’s get to it,” Avery said, standing up from the reception bench.

  “Great!” Jenna said. “What stylist did they book you with?”

  “Star.”

  “No, no.” Jenna shook her head. “That will never do.” She walked over to the reception area. “Let me talk to Dominic, please. Tell him it’s Jenna Chambers.”

  A few minutes later, Dominic Sabatani swept into the reception area and kissed both of Jenna’s cheeks. “My dear, it’s so good to see you.”

  “You, too, Dominic,” Jenna said. “But my friend here—” she motioned to Avery to come over “—is in need of your help and she must, must, must be cut by your hands. I can’t entrust her hair to anyone but you.”

  “You are too kind,” Dominic said. “But I’m booked, ma chérie.” Dominic glanced at Avery’s unflattering ponytails and bangs. “And your friend is in need of a complete makeover.”

  “You have always been able to squeeze in a Tate model. You just have to do this. Consider it a favor for me?” Jenna gave Dominic her biggest puppy-dog eyes.

  Dominic’s eyes narrowed. “All right, I’ll squeeze her in.” He turned to his receptionist. “Have Sonya wash her and then I’ll cut and style afterwards. But she’s going to need Blair for makeup and Emily for nails to complete the look.”

  “You are a lifesaver, Dominic,” Jenna said. “And I am in your debt.”

  “And one day I’m going to collect on all the favors you owe me,” Dominic chuckled and then glanced down at his watch. “Get draped and after your wash come back to my chair.” And just as quickly as he’d come in, he was gone.

  “Sure thing,” Jenna said to his retreating figure. “Prepare to say goodbye to the old you.” She walked toward Avery and grabbed her by the elbow. “Because a new world awaits you.”

  Three hours later, Avery was stunned at the sexy woman staring back at her from the golden-leafed mirror. Dominic Sabatani had worked a miracle and transformed her former bland hair and bangs into a work of art. He’d used his shears to create a chic, razor cut, keeping most of her length, but adding volume with varying layers. Avery was very pleased with the results. Blair had applied the right shade of foundation, eye shadow and lip gloss, revealing a sultry, sexy woman with arched eyebrows that Avery hardly recognized.

  “Bella,” Dominic said when he stopped over on his way to receive another client.

  “She does look amazing.” Jenna nodded in agreement. She’d stayed with Avery throughout the makeover to be sure she achieved the right look.

  “Thank you.” Avery beamed.

  “Come back again,” Dominic replied.

  “I most definitely will,” she said, rising from the silk-draped stool. She took a moment to admire herself one final time before turning to Jenna. “So, are you ready for some shopping because I can’t have a new hairdo without some new clothes to match.”

  “Go shopping, girlfriend, you don’t ever need to ask,” Jenna replied and together the two of them joyfully bounced right out of the salon. They finished their day with stops at Macy’s and Bloomingdale’s, which left Avery’s wallet bare by the time she returned to her apartment with several bags tucked underneath her arm. She was nearly inside when her home phone rang. She quickly fumbled in her purse for her keys and inserted them into the lock. Once inside, she dropped her bags and made a dash for the phone.

  “Hello,” she said, out of breath.

  “Avery, are you all right?” Quentin asked from the other end.

  “Oh, I’m fine. I just came in from shopping with Jenna,” she replied.

  “Listen, Avery, about last night,” Quentin began.

  “Stop,” she interrupted him. “If you were about to apologize. None is required. We both know I wanted you as much as you wanted me.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I froze. Can we take it from the top and see what happens next?” Avery didn’t want to remember what a fool she’d been to leave his loft. If she got another chance, she wouldn’t walk away.

  “Yes, we can,” Quentin replied. “How about a picnic on Saturday in Central Park?”

  “Sounds great,” Avery said, smiling through the phone. “I’ll bring all the trimmings.” After she hung up, she took a moment to admire herself in the hall mirror. Come Saturday, Quentin Davis would meet the new and improved Avery Roberts, one who wasn’t afraid to take a risk.

  Bright and early on Monday, Quentin began shadowing Richard King. His press secretary had arranged for Quentin to follow him to several important functions over the next couple of weeks, all in an effort to get Quentin to photograph King favorably as a rising entrepreneur and not a ruthless tycoon. The first of which was a weekly business meeting with his top executives to go over impending deals.

  Quentin had been allowed to set up his equipment in the boardroom prior to the start of the meeting so that he’d have a good angle to shoot King. As the executives started to pile in, Quentin focused the camera lens toward the head of the table. The meeting was in full swing for several minutes before Richard finally arrived. Everyone rose from the table as if he were royalty. Quentin snapped a photograph.

  The flash caused Richard to look in Quentin’s direction. “Mr. Davis, I’d forgot you were going to be here. Have you been introduced?”

  “No, but it’s not important,” Quentin replied. He liked to be in the background when he was working. Then he could capture the unexpected.

  “Everyone, I’d like to introduce world-renowned photographer, Quentin Davis. Mr. Davis is going to be shooting a spread on me for Capitalist Magazine. Please give him your full cooperation.” The executives nodded their heads.

  An hour later, Quentin had several interesting shots. One of which was Richard pulling off his jacket, one of Richard rolling up his sleeves and another when he loosened his tie to get down to business. Quentin was rather surprised that he didn’t let his right-hand man do all the work for him. Instead, Richard seemed apprised of all the pressing deals going on in his multimillion-dollar enterprise and wasn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty. Quentin had expected a tyrant; instead he got a man who listened to his top executives’ ideas and suggestions yet offered a firm hand to guide them in the right direction. Quentin couldn’t help but be impressed by Richard’s fairness. How could a man treat his employees fairly on one hand and destr
oy a community on the other? Quentin just didn’t understand it.

  When the conversation turned to the Harlem deal, Quentin’s ears perked up. The architect was led in with a mock-up model of the proposed site that would house residential condominiums, offices, retail stores and several restaurants. It was an ambitious deal and one that apparently Richard King wanted desperately. When it came to discussion of how to convince the store owners to sell, Quentin felt it was unethical to stay. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said and started toward the door.

  “No, stay,” Richard said, rising from his seat and shutting the door. “This is a new project that the King Corporation has in development. I’m very excited about it. Please stay.”

  Quentin didn’t want to hear of any underhanded methods they were willing to use to run poor people out of their community, but Richard had insisted, so he stayed put.

  One of his top executives began. “Richard, our main opposition is the community center. That center is the lifeblood of the community. Without its support, this project is doomed.”

  “How do we get it?” Richard asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

  “The director and community-center board adamantly refuse to even hear our offer. We’ve proposed rebuilding the center in another location down the street. The new building would have all the latest computer and high-tech medical equipment available, but they will not budge.”

  “Perhaps I should go by the site myself later in the week and talk with the director,” Richard said. He remembered a time when he’d frequented Harlem in his youth. It held a lot of dear memories for him, ones he would never forget.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Richard?” an executive asked. “I can handle this.”

  “I’m sure you can, but I think I’ll stop by there later in the week. Quentin, you should join me and take some photographs.”

  Quentin hated that idea. What if Malik saw the two of them together? That would only further infuriate his dear friend.

  “As you wish.” The executive sat down, clearly defeated.

  “Don’t worry, you’re still in charge of this deal,” Richard said, “but before we get too far financially, I want to know we’ve got all the bases covered. With that being said, I have another meeting to attend to. Meeting adjourned.”

  Richard swiftly headed to the door, leaving Quentin to wonder just how far Richard King would go to seal this deal. And what did that mean for the community center and Malik?

  When Avery came to work on Monday morning with her new haircut and wearing a black pencil skirt, cream lace halter and short black jacket, Hunter commented on her appearance.

  “Avery, what did you do to yourself?” he asked, eyeing her up and down. He’d seen her look polished before, but this was different. This sexy new look stopped traffic.

  “I had a little makeover at the Dominic Sabatani Salon,” Avery replied, smiling confidently.

  “Well, you look great,” Hunter said, glancing at her, and just as soon as he’d said something nice, he took the words away with a sorry comment. “I’m sure your new look will do wonders for the gallery.”

  “Excuse me,” Avery said, folding her arms across her chest. “Are you saying that my former appearance brought down the gallery?” She’d always dressed appropriately.

  “No, of course not. Don’t be so touchy.” Hunter patted her shoulder. “You’ve always been the utmost of professionalism. I merely meant that…”

  “That I wasn’t all that attractive before?” Avery said. “Thanks a lot, Hunter. You really have a way with the compliments. You need to stop while you’re ahead.” She turned on her heel and walked away.

  “I merely meant you’re more appealing to a buyer now,” Hunter explained to her retreating back as she stalked up the stairs to her office.

  Avery could just wring that guy’s neck. Everything he said was laced with venom. She was going through the mail and her paperwork when she stumbled upon the fax from Woody from the other day. Why had she left the certificate at work instead of taking it home? Perhaps because she was running away from the unknown as she had done with Quentin on Friday night. Maybe it was time she confronted the truth head-on rather than fear it. Slowly, Avery slid the cover sheet off to reveal her Certificate of Live Birth. She learned she was named Baby Gordon. Had her birth mother been too busy to give her a name? She was born at 1:54 p.m. on November 3, 1974, in Manchester, New Hampshire, to Leah Gordon. But what Woody hadn’t revealed over the phone was that her birth father’s name had been left blank. Had her birth mother not known who her father was? Or had she been so ashamed at having a child out of wedlock that she’d left his name off on purpose?

  The certificate claimed her mother’s birthplace was Manchester and listed an address, but was that the truth? Had her birth mother given a fake address and birthplace so that she’d never be found? It was the first time Avery thought that maybe she wouldn’t want to be found. But why not? How could a mother not want to know the child she gave away was all right? Had lived a good life? Her birth mother would want to meet her, Avery convinced herself. She was positive of it and when Woody found her, they would take steps to form some kind of relationship. Avery wasn’t sure what that would be, but she would not expect the worst. Instead, she would hope for the best.

  Malik had had a couple of days to cool off when Quentin stopped by the community center for his Monday afternoon photography session with the boys. When he arrived, he found that the room Malik had promised was being used.

  Furious, Quentin stormed into Malik’s office. He was in a meeting and sitting at a circular table with several people when Quentin burst in. “Malik, I want to talk to you now!”

  Malik glanced in Quentin’s direction and turned to his colleagues. “If you’ll all excuse me, I’d like to talk to Mr. Davis,” he said. They rose from their chairs and quickly exited the room.

  “Quentin, don’t come in here starting trouble because that’s the last thing I need right now. Why don’t you just go back to your SoHo loft or Rome or Paris or wherever you feel comfortable these days and leave me to deal with real life issues?”

  “Malik.” Quentin walked up to his best friend and looked him dead in the eye. “I know you may be upset with me, but that is no reason for you to take it out on those boys. I gave them my word.”

  “Your word,” Malik laughed derisively. “Your word isn’t worth squat. I believe you gave me your word that you would help the center and as soon as it wasn’t convenient for you or it might interfere with your next big paycheck, you bailed. Leaving me holding the bag. Well, you know what, Q? I won’t let you do that to those young men.”

  “I am not doing anything to them.” Quentin’s voice rose. “You’re the one that’s punishing them. I know they enjoyed that lesson and I was eager to see what they’d come up with.”

  “Well, don’t bother,” Malik said. “We don’t need you. Andrew was kind enough to volunteer and take your place. Since unlike you, he cares about this center.”

  “That’s not fair, Malik.” Quentin shook his head. “I want to be here and I would think that would be obvious by the generous donation I gave last week.”

  “Money? Sure, we could use that anytime. But what we needed from you was clout and influence and since you can’t be bothered, then consider your services no longer needed.” Malik reached into his desk, pulled out the check Quentin had signed and held it out to him. “Here, take it. We don’t need your guilt money either.”

  Quentin was crushed. “Keep it.” He shook his head. “Whether you approve of my actions or not, the center needs it.” He started toward the door, but then stopped. “I’m really sorry you feel this way, Malik. I came here today to try and make amends. We’ve been friends for a long time. Hell, you’ve been a brother to me when I had no one. You and Dante have gotten me out of more scrapes than I can remember. But if this is the way you want it, then I’ll honor your wishes and stay away.”

  “I would appreciate that,” Malik rep
lied and turned his back on Quentin. “Now could you please close the door on your way out?”

  Quietly, Quentin shut the door behind himself and walked out of the center, and perhaps out of Malik’s life for good.

  Chapter 9

  There wasn’t a cloud in the sky on Saturday when Avery and Quentin met for a picnic on the Great Lawn in the middle of Central Park. The green grass, colorful trees and blooming flowers was a romantic setting for their third date. Quentin had dressed casually for the occasion in a Tommy Bahama shirt and linen trousers while he waited by the Bethesda Fountain. He was snapping photos when a stylish woman walked toward him and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Avery?” Quentin’s gaze traveled up and down her slender frame, from her skinny capris that showed off her narrow waist to her skimpy halter tank underneath a shrug that revealed a generous swell of breasts. She sure didn’t look like the Avery Roberts he knew. Sheer foundation adorned her face and mascara and shadow tinted her eyes, but once she smiled back at him and he made contact with those brilliant green eyes of hers, Quentin knew she was one and the same. “Wow!” He drew a shallow breath.

  “So, do you like?” Avery asked, spinning around so Quentin could get a full view of the new and improved Avery Roberts, complete with new haircut, makeup and a brand new wardrobe thanks to Jenna.

  Quentin grinned. “Yes, of course. You’re stunning!”

  Avery couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear because that was the exact response she’d been looking for. “Thank you.”

  “What prompted the change?” Quentin asked. He wasn’t sure what to make of this new Avery. He’d looked forward to exploring a different side of her, but the Avery standing in front of him looked very sure of herself. Perhaps she wouldn’t need coaxing at all.

  “You did,” Avery answered honestly. “You asked me to loosen up and let myself go, and this is it.” She placed her hands on her hips.