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He poured them each another glass of whiskey. They didn’t talk about the fact that he’d taken off her clothes or what that might mean for their future.
He reached for his phone, queued up a playlist of jazz, and closed his eyes as he leaned against the wall. Occasionally he would sip his drink or she would dip her head under the water for a few long beats. He’d add a bit more hot water and she’d smile.
“I’m falling asleep,” she cooed, her eyes closed.
“To bed,” he ordered. Extending his hand he helped her step out. With the plush towel he dried her hair, his touch gentle. Sliding the robe over her shoulders, he led her to the bed.
Is he staying?
That’s all she could wonder. Would he slide between the sheets with her? Kiss her neck? Run his hands over her body? Would he stay in her bed?
He pulled back the sheets, let her lie down, and then covered her with the blankets up to her neck.
“Want me to stay?” he asked, the loaded question hanging between them.
“To tell me a story?” She giggled and kept her eyes closed.
"Sleep, Charlize," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Tomorrow we get back to work.”
“I scared you that day,” she replied in a far off voice. “You were so mad because you thought you were going to lose me. I went in that basement and would have died if that gun didn’t jam.”
“Sometimes scared comes out like anger for me.”
“Then you must have been terrified, because you were so angry.” The talk of their last mission seemed vital tonight. Like the buzz from the alcohol freed up something she’d wanted to say for a long time.
He was at the door, nearly gone from the room. “Losing you is about as scary as it gets.”
CHAPTER 15
CHARLIZE
She wasn’t doing her part here. She was in this office. Immersed in how things were done at Angels of a New Day, Charlize was sure she should be making more progress on finding evidence of their wrongdoing. But so far everything seemed sanitized. They’d done a remarkable job of looking legitimate. She came in this morning determined to uncover something.
“Brenda, can I have a word with you?” She was standing outside the executive office, making sure it was obvious her brow was creased with worry. She needed Brenda to know something was wrong.
“Of course, Charlize, come on in.” Brenda eyed her closely.
She stepped in and closed the door behind her. “I’m struggling a bit and I was hoping you could help me.”
“Struggling how?” Brenda put down her cell phone and turned all her attention to Charlize. “Please have a seat.”
“I don’t feel very connected here. It’s as if everyone is keeping me at arm’s length. Don’t get me wrong, everyone has been very kind, but from an operations standpoint, I’m on the outside. It makes my work very challenging.”
“Tell me more.” Brenda was a master communicator. You couldn’t rise to her level and not know how to make people feel seen and heard.
“Grant writing is technical and can sometimes be tedious, but there’s an art to it. I need more access. More involvement. I live by the idea that the written word has the power to change hearts and minds. I’m passionate about my role in getting funding that can improve communities and empower underserved, marginalized populations.”
“I hear you, Charlize. You represent the largest opportunity for growth in order to do our important work. I’m going to be very transparent with you; I don’t have much in-depth experience in the world of grant writing. I’ve always been focused on leadership and building strong teams around me. Tell me how you’d like to attack this differently.”
“I’ve always found the most success when I really dig into the inner workings of the group. I need to develop a deep understanding of all of the programs and activities, as well as the populations you serve. I should be contributing to writing additional funding materials, like donor communications and stakeholder reports. At this point I’m not really tuned into who your top donors are. How you communicate with them and why they’re committed to your organization. I’m sorry to lay all this on you so abruptly but I’m concerned I won’t be able to deliver what you expect if I can’t take these other steps.”
Brenda hesitated, and it was telling. She pushed her red framed glasses to the top of her head. “I completely understand Charlize. I really appreciate you coming to speak with me on this. We have been keeping things from you. You’re astute to notice.”
“You have?”
“Yes. Frankly the work we do requires discretion. From our donor level right down to all the women and children we serve. Not everyone agrees with what we do.”
“How so?”
