Do Not Disturb 2 Page 2

Jake slowly reached out and pivoted the chair back to the table and sunk into it. “No more trashing Keisha, or this lunch is over.”

  “I won’t trash the girl again.”

  “The girl? Her name is Keisha, Dad.”

  “Yep.”

  “Say it.”

  Conrad rolled his blue eyes skyward. “I won’t disparage Keisha.”

  His father still said her name like he had something rotten in his mouth, but it was a start. “Thank you.”

  “Now about the campaign-”

  Jake massaged his temple. “Why can’t we just enjoy lunch, Dad?”

  “Because that won’t get you in the White House,” Conrad said simply. “Now, about Roman-”

  “Don’t even waste your breath trying to convince me to bring him back on board,” Jake said without missing a beat. To be honest, he thought allowing his former advisor to leave his employ with both knees in tact was rather generous. Just thinking of him plotting, paying off Keisha’s coworker, trying to trick him into ending things, made him furious all over again.

  “I’m not here to tell you to reinstate him, Jake.” Conrad gave the waiter a cordial smile when she brought their bill. He pulled out his black visa and the waitress took it and hustled away. “If you recall, I was against you hiring him in the first place.”

  That was true. His dad believed he should have gone with someone with a little more campaign experience. But Roman had been with Jake from the beginning, back in college when the idea of being a senator, even with his father’s connections, seemed so far off and impossible. They’d been friends, best friends even, until he drew the line and leapt over it.

  “So what are you fishing for?” Jake said finally. “An ‘I told you so’?”

  “No. I’m simply suggesting that it’s time for you to bring someone else on.”

  “I have Raven Julliard.”

  “Please,” Conrad snorted. “I could hear how overwhelmed she was from two states over.”

  Jake hated to admit it, but his father had a slight point. Raven had the makings of a great strategist, but she still had a ways to go. “And I’m sure you have someone in mind.”

  “I do.”

  Jake watched as his father slid his folder back into his briefcase and crossed his arms, toying with him.

  “Well, don’t leave me in suspense, Dad.”

  Conrad leaned forward. “How about me?”

  “How about you, what?”

  “How about I become the show runner? Beneath you, of course.”

  Jake couldn’t have heard him right. And he couldn’t imagine him being beneath anyone. “You can’t be serious.”

  “No need to insult me,” Conrad said with a look.

  Jake leaned back. “Not trying to insult you. I just don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

  Conrad held his head high, sitting up like a lord on a great stead, explaining something painfully simple to a commoner. “I am at the front of a multi-billion dollar company. If I can take on the sharks, I’m more than capable of ensuring your win.”

  His father came from humble beginnings, taking on the world with a shoe-string budget, building his empire from the ground up. But the thought of the two of them not going their separate ways, Jake back to the Hill and his father to NY, was unsettling. He already had to psych himself up for just spending a two hour lunch with him. Roman, as an advisor, had been a handful—his father would be a monster.

  Conrad must have sensed the hesitation and sweetened the pot. “It’s a win/win, son. I’m cheap labor—and this will give me a chance to get to know Keisha and, uh, Carl.”

  “Caleb.”

  “Right. Caleb.” He looked him dead on. “So what’s your answer?”

  Jake needed help. He had a laundry list of why it was a bad idea, but he couldn’t deny the benefits. Heck, having the extra set of hands would free him up for more time with Keisha.

  He drew a deep breath, pushing aside his reservations. “Okay, Dad. You can help with the campaign.”

  Chapter Three

  Keisha

  Keisha paused in front of the revolving door of Winterhorn Inn and Suites. Almost two years of thinking about the end, how she was working toward the goal of doing what she was moments from doing—marching up to Carmen and giving her two-weeks notice. No more dealing with guests that undressed her with their eyes, no more scrubbing toilets and listening to the never ending drone of the vacuum cleaner or her manager’s clipped condescension.

  She pulled her crimson cardigan tight around her. As nice as giving her notice would be, she still had to soldier through two more weeks of maid service. She stepped toward the door and froze when she saw Monique’s reflection glittering beside her.

  The rational part of her brain told her to just go in. No good would come from a confrontation. She listened to it, ‘til the trick opened her mouth.

  “Well if it isn’t the First Lady.”

  Monique’s very voice was like nails on a chalkboard, screeching and making Keisha wince. The angel on her shoulder said to ignore the schemer, but when Monique had the audacity to reach out and touch her, all bets were off.

  Keisha spun to face Monique, her brown eyes flashing dangerously. “Don’t you dare put a hand on me!”

  Monique returned the hand to her side, her lip twitching. “There’s no reason to be rude, sweetie.”

  Sweetie? That was rich. “I’m not your sweetie.” She balled a fist. “Unless you have a little bit of that money put aside for plastic surgery, I’d think twice before you talk to or touch me again.”

  Monique stood her ground. “And what would you have me do, Queen Keisha?”

  “When you see me, walk the other way.”

  Monique made a face. “I’m a grown ass woman. I’ll be damned if you’re gonna tell me what to do.”

  Keisha got ready to lay her out. “And you’re about to get a grown ass beat down.”

  “MIJA!”

  Keisha faltered as she saw Maria hurrying down the sidewalk toward them. Monique wisely took the opportunity to push inside the hotel.

  Maria’s weary eyes narrowed in disappointment as she reached Keisha’s side. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Knocking that bitch out.”

  “Keisha!”

  Now that Monique was out of Keisha’s line of sight, her blood went from a hard boil to a simmer and she let out a deep breath. “I can’t stomach her, Maria.”

  Maria brought her in for a hug. “Don’t let her steal your joy. You’ve only got two weeks left and you’re out of this place.” She pulled back, surveying Keisha’s face. “Just keep your eye on the prize.”

  Keisha nodded. Maria was right. As much joy as dotting Monique’s eyes would bring her, she wasn’t worth it.

  Maria changed the subject as they pushed into the lobby. “So how was the celebration dinner?”

  Keisha grinned, remembering. He’d been right about the manicotti. It had been delicious, but the main course had been him dropping the bombshell, asking her and Caleb to move in with him. “Dinner was incredible.”

  Maria nudged her playfully. “It must have been one helluva dish of pasta—or are you holding something back?”

  Keisha waved at the receptionist, delighting in her friend waiting with bated breath. “It’s kinda crazy…I mean, I still can’t believe it happened.”

  Maria held open the door to the maintenance stairwell. “Don’t leave me in suspense!”

  Keisha descended behind her, biting her lip. “He bought a house in the suburbs and, uh, kinda asked me to move in with him.”

  “Kinda?” Maria repeated shrilly. “Dios mio! What did you say?”

  Keisha swallowed. “I said yes.”

  Once they reached the landing, Maria gave her another bear hug. “Oh Keisha—I’m so happy for you! If anyone deserves this, it’s you, honey.” She squeezed tight. “I really mean it.”

  It was nice to hear. After Holden, dealing with walking away from he
r Ivy League education, and her mother’s enduring cold shoulder for the past two years; all the dates, the disappointment, and the long hours, it was nice to hear someone say that she deserved a little happiness.

  “We’re moving stuff this week and were thinking about having a little get together this weekend.” They stepped into the line in front of the time clock. “You’re invited of course.”

  “Of course,” Maria winked. “I’ll bring some enchiladas.”

  Keisha’s mouth watered at the mere idea. Maria’s enchiladas were like crack in a tortilla. “I was gonna make a cake.”

  Maria’s eyes widened. “Don’t burn down the house before you can even enjoy it!”

  Keisha laughed. “I’m not that bad a cook!” If you didn’t count the time she made a cherry pie that was delicious except for the fact that she didn’t realize she’d left the pits inside. And the quiche that ended up like an egg balloon. And then there was the time she’d almost burned down the apartment when she was making macaroni…

  “Maybe I’ll just grab one from Food Lion,” she said peevishly.

  Maria clapped her on the shoulder. “Good c-”

  “Keisha?” Carmen erupted beside them. Her manager’s voice seemed especially irritated. “Can I see you in the office?”

  Keisha smoothed the front of her frock, pivoting and seeing the annoyed set of Carmen’s jaw. Great. What was she gonna complain about today?

  “I’ll clock you in,” Maria whispered.

  Keisha walked toward the dreaded office, knowing that Carmen only allowed the maids inside if she gonna chew them out. She repeated, ‘Two more weeks, two more weeks’ over and over, praying for the strength to not run off at the mouth. She had to hold her peace.

  Carmen held open the door and she scanned the cluttered room, thinking silently that one would think the office of someone working in the cleaning industry would look a little less like a tornado had ravaged it. There was only one chair that wasn’t covered to the brim with papers and cleaning products that obviously didn’t get any use. The surfaces that weren’t filled with rubbish had a chalky sheen of dust.

  Keisha stood awkwardly near the desk as Carmen closed the door. She gestured at the lone chair. “Have a seat.”

  Keisha scooped up some of the paperwork and put it in her lap, sitting ramrod straight as Carmen sauntered to her desk and sat down. Carmen stared at her, her ebony face blank and unreadable.

  Keisha cleared her throat uncomfortably. “What is this about?”

  Carmen tucked a dark strand behind her ear. “It’s about your unprofessional behavior.”

  Keisha frowned. “Beg your pardon?”

  Carmen didn’t flinch. “I’m aware that you have begun a, uh, relationship with Senator Cunningham.”

  Something about the way she said ‘relationship’ ruffled Keisha’s feather. She turned the word into something synonymous with dirty. Illicit. “I’m dating him, yes.”

  “Dating, huh?” Carmen said with a sneer.

  Keisha felt her voice rising. “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “That a politician would-” She made quotation marks with her slender fingers. “-date a maid?” She shrugged. “No one’s about to yell, ‘Cut!’. This isn’t a movie. You have to understand my skepticism, sweetheart.”

  “Not really,” Keisha snapped.

  “Look, your sex life is none of my business-”

  “You’ve got that right,” Keisha fired, moving to the edge of her seat.

  Something in her eyes told Keisha that no one ever went to bat against her. She was used to wielding her authority like a whip. But Keisha wouldn’t allow her to run her through the mud just so she could feel superior.

  Carmen’s lips curdled. “As I was saying, your personal life is your personal life and none of my business, but the way you project Winterhorn Inn and Suites is.”

  Keisha let out a chuckle. This should be good. She never saw Jake while she was on the clock and always made sure she was in her civilian clothes, not her Winterhorn uniform.

  “I’ve talked to the board and they agree that what you’re doing is highly inappropriate.”

  Keisha squared her jaw. “I’m not sixteen years old, Carmen. How I spend my time off the clock is my concern. Not yours, and certainly not the board’s.”

  “Just because you’re-” There was those quotation marks again. “-dating above your station doesn’t mean you can get familiar with me. You will address me as Mrs. Jackson, not Carmen.”

  “Fine,” Keisha clipped. “What are you gonna do, write me up,” She paused. “Mrs. Jackson?”

  Carmen’s nostrils flared. “If we find that you and your son take up residence at our hotel, disciplinary action will be taken.”

  Keisha gave her a sly grin. She couldn’t believe she’d once been intimidated by this woman. She saw her manager for what she was, a petulant child that got off by bullying others and putting people down. “Is that right?”

  “This is no joking matter, Miss Wallace.”

  “Let me save you the trouble,” Keisha said with faux gentleness. “We can go ahead and consider this my two weeks notice.”

  Carmen’s mouth started working, but no words came out. She leaned forward. “Y-You’re quitting?”

  “I am.”

  She gaped for one more minute then collected herself. “No.”

  Keisha furrowed her brow. “What do you mean, no?”

  Carmen slid back from her desk and stood tall. “I think it’s best if we sever ties.”

  “Sever ties?” Keisha repeated incredulously. “You’re firing me?”

  Carmen nodded.

  “On what grounds?”

  “Where to begin?” Carmen said with a cruel laugh. “Your incessant time off-”

  “That was when my kid was sick!”

  “Your insubordination with the headphones-”

  “After you gave the warning, I stopped!”

  “And a general lack of work quality.”

  Keisha snapped to her feet, her chair toppling to the floor. She wouldn’t get her scholarship check for another week at least. It was why she was giving notice and not quitting out right. “You can’t do this!”

  “I already have,” Carmen said brusquely. She strode from her desk and opened her door. “Once you turn in your uniform, your last check will be mailed to you.”

  Keisha was flabbergasted. It wasn’t fair. For the past two years she’d been a great employee. Just because Carmen had some sort of vendetta, just like that, her resignation had become a termination.

  When she saw Monique hovering outside the door, a mischievous grin painted on her face, Keisha lost it. Fury blinded her and all she wanted to do was whoop somebody’s ass.

  She bounded toward her, knocking her back into the locker. Monique let out a squeal but recovered quickly as she flipped over on her side and pounced on Keisha, socking her in the jaw. The thwok added to the commotion in the locker room as the maids gathered around, egging on the brawl with delight.

  Keisha tasted blood and she let out a grunt as she bucked Monique from on top and took the girl by her cheap tracks and planted her face into the bench. She did it again and again, then pulled her back, straddling her as she punched, jabbing her left and right through tears of anger and frustration.

  “I’m calling the police!” Carmen screeched over the ruckus. “I’m calling the police!”

  Chapter Four

  Jake

  Jake kept glancing at his phone, every second, every mile not coming soon enough. He heard Keisha’s voice ringing in his ears—strong, defiant, until the end when she had to come clean about the incident at work.

  Apparently, when she gave notice, her manager decided to one up and fire her instead. Monique had been waiting just outside, waiting to gloat and Keisha lost it, body slamming her. Before Jake could delight in the horrible woman getting exactly what she deserved, he realized that the reason Raven had told him to brace himself was because Keisha had been arrested. />
  Carla, Keisha’s flighty mother, had been gracious when Jake called her and apprised her of the situation. It had been a feat to not chew her out when she didn’t even bother asking how her daughter was doing.

  The Escalade turned on Main Street and Jake gazed out the window. Mauryville had a certain small town charm, a homey feeling that DC lacked. A woman pushing a stroller took him out of the moment and he imagined Keisha in a flowing skirt that swished around her ankles, her dark arms bare and soft as silk as she glittered beneath the street lamps. He was beside her, joking as they talked about nothing and everything. She was safe, happy. He was happy.

  “Senator?”

  Jake snapped from his daydream, glancing over at Raven, who sat across from him, her fair features scrunched in concern.

  “Are you okay?”

  Jake gave her a curt nod, settling back. His daydream would have to wait. For now, they were going to bail her out of jail.

  He peered out the tinted window in confusion. The firefly quaint of the downtown street was replaced by cold, dark walls. They were in an alley, the SUV parked and humming beside a dumpster. “Where the hell are we?”

  “I contacted the station and expressed our need for…sensitivity,” Raven explained. “They’ve already processed Keisha’s release and she should be coming out the back door any minute now.”

  Jake felt the smile at his lips as he looked at his former intern, all grown up. He’d just been concerned with getting Keisha out of there that he hadn’t even thought about asking for the station to be discreet. “Good work, Raven.”

  She turned away, her cheeks rosy red. “I, um-” She cleared her throat. “Thanks.”

  Jake clicked his seat belt, pushing out of the car. Raven joined him, shivering as she pulled her cardigan tight around her. Jake couldn’t feel the cold. He felt nothing except the thunder of his heart as he stood rapt, waiting to see her.

  When the door swung open and a woman in a uniform came out and talked to Raven for a moment and got her to sign paperwork, Jake tore past her, bounding up the stairs that led up to the station’s back door.

  Keisha stepped over the threshold, her face hard and empty ‘til she saw him. When their eyes met, the world stopped. She stood frozen on the fire escape, her lips parted as she said one word—Jake.