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We sat there in his living room in silence for almost ten minutes until the taxi arrived. I ran out the door and jumped in the backseat without taking the time to say a decent good-bye.
Daddy was heading towards the vehicle.
“Drive fast!” I yelled. “That man is trying to stop me from leaving!”
The driver burned rubber pulling away from the curb, leaving Daddy standing there frantically calling my name and waving his arms.
“Take me to Manhattan . . . Sixth Avenue and Fourteenth Street.” That one sentence took all the strength I had left. I curled up in a ball on the backseat and let the tears run down my face.
Chapter 30
ASHA
I got to work one morning and was surprised to find a Post-It note on my computer screen that said I should call Nick Seabrook right away.
I put my coat on the hook in the back of my office door and buzzed my assistant. “Kevin, could you come here for a moment?”
My short, red-haired assistant came in with a notepad in his hands. He is the most inefficient member of the buying office support staff, and the only reason I don’t fire him is because he has a B.A. from Harvard and an M.A. from Yale. It gives me a certain amount of pleasure that someone with so much education has to take orders from me.
“Good morning, Kevin. This morning is going to be hectic so call Nick Seabrook back and tell him to try me at home tonight. Then reschedule my appointment with Lew Weimann from Zippy Girl handbags. After that, you can start letting the sales reps in.”
I booted up my computer and started responding to some e-mails and was totally engrossed in the task when Kevin buzzed.
“Asha, Nick is on the phone” he said.
“Kevin, I told you that I can’t talk to him now.”
I answered another e-mail before he rang again. “Mr. Seabrook insists that you talk to him now. He says it will only take a minute.”
“Yeah, all right put him through.”
I waited for Nick’s high-pitched voice to say hello but all I heard was Biggie Smalls’s song “Hypnotize” blasting from his car radio.
When did Nick start listening to rap music?
“Hello?”
“Hey, girl!”
“What’s up, Nick, how are you?”
“Chillin’, chillin’, wassup wit you?”
“Why are you speaking that way?”
“What are you doing right now?”
“Since I don’t have two rich parents like you do, I’m working for a living.”
“No, but you have a rich boyfriend.”
Boyfriend? Both Nick and I were aware that we both dated other people. In fact, he had some lovelorn chick down in Houston. Boyfriend? For some reason, I liked the sound. Maybe because it was coming from him and not some other guy.
“True, you are pretty rich, Mr. Seabrook.”
“Aiiight.”
“Nick, that fake gangsta thug dialect sounds ridiculous. What are you up to?”
