Eve of Passion

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The second the diatribe was complete, Janelle recognized her mistake. Her head jerked up to both ladies staring at her, Sandra with an elegantly arched eyebrow lifted in question, Vicki with her mouth gaped open.

“You went out with a man?” Sandra asked slowly.

Vicki held up a finger. “Correction—a stuffy, arrogant man.”

Janelle sighed. “Damn. Again,” she muttered. “I can already see we’re not going to leave this building without me telling you this, so here it goes. And before I start, it’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. Understand?”

Sandra and Vicki shared a conspiratorial look, then turned their full attention back to her.

“His name is Ballard Dubois. My father wants his family’s support for the campaign. He asked me to go out with him to gain that support. I wasn’t going to, or rather, I didn’t want to but I felt trapped. You know how my father is,” she said, letting out another sigh, then looking down at her own neatly manicured nails. She hated how compelled she felt to please her father, to make up for the embarrassment she and her failed attempt at marriage had caused years ago.

“Anyway, I did that party for Rebecca over the weekend and just my luck, Ballard Dubois was in attendance,” she continued, refusing to reflect on the past another second of this day.

“Okay, just for clarification,” Sandra said, leaning forward, her legs crossed, “you are talking about the Ballard Dubois. Forbes Top Ten Richest Men Under Forty for the last six years. He was on the cover of GQ just a few months ago with those sexy-ass eyes and was reported to be involved with Alaya Bentley, the next Diahann Carroll of the movie screen.”

Of course that was the Ballard Dubois she was speaking of, and all that irrelevant information Sandra had just offered, Janelle had learned just this morning when she’d continued looking into his life via Google.

“That Ballard Dubois?” Vicki echoed the query.

Janelle tried to reroute their thoughts, and her own, for that matter. “Ballard Dubois who is next in line to take over Dubois Maritime Shipping, the successful businessman with enough power and influence to bring my father the final votes he needs to clinch this election. That’s the one I’m referring to.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Sandra sat back in her chair. “Continue.”

They were thinking something, Janelle could tell, and whatever it was, she didn’t want to hear it. She just did not want to go there.

“So anyway, we end up dancing together. I didn’t know who he was and he didn’t know who I was until the end of the dance. Then he asked me to dinner and I agreed because of my father’s request. I figured since fate was lending a hand, I’d just get the deed over with. We went to dinner last night and now I’m home. Deal done.”

There was silence as she finished speaking, silence and staring. Janelle was on the receiving end of those knowledgeable stares that only people who knew things like when she’d had her first period, her first kiss, her first sexual experience, could dish out. In essence, they knew all her firsts, which meant they probably knew her as well as she knew herself. Damn was beginning to be the theme of the day for her.

“And which deal would that be? Hot sweaty sex with that fine-ass, rich-ass man?”

Leave it to Sandra to keep things in perspective. Janelle waited, knowing instinctively that Vicki would follow up. See, she knew her friends just as well as they knew her.

“Or did you get the support your father needed?” Vicki asked—as expected.

“Hell, if she went for the hot, sweaty sex, then that instantly sealed the political deal. Please, tell me I’m right,” Sandra implored with her signature smile. The one that made you believe you could do whatever it was she was so excited about and at the same time made men want to fall at her feet.

Janelle simply shook her head. “There was no sex and we didn’t talk enough about politics for me to secure his support.”

Vicki looked confused “So you just ate? No talking, no nothing.”

“We talked,” Janelle replied simply. “We talked about my job and about his job. About his take on dating and how absurd I thought it was.”

Sandra interrupted quickly. “You mean to tell me someone else has a dating criteria like you and you disagreed with him?”

“First, I do not have a criteria. I just choose not to date. Second, he has this system—first date, discussion about where this could lead, when they’ll have sex, when it will end. Nonsense like that is what I disagree with.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Vicki offered. “You could think of it as having a business plan, which we all do.”

“Plenty of people have made sex a viable business,” Sandra began, holding up a hand to stop Janelle’s instant protest. “But not you, and I don’t think Dubois either. The problem may be that both of you are overthinking this. Just go with the flow. Sleep together if you want. Move on if you have to,” she finished.

“You sound like those girls we talked about back in college,” Janelle added with a grin of her own. The Silk Sisters had always been the most sought-after females in school, the prettiest, most times the richest and the majority of the time the most difficult to attain. That had been their reputation and now, looking at them as adults, they seemed to be in the same boat. Janelle wondered why that thought made her worry.

“I’m not saying you should pick up your tramp card and hit the streets,” Sandra corrected. “But, Janelle, it’s been five years since that mess with Jack. That’s five years since we all discovered he was an asshole. Not just you and not by yourself. We were there, remember.”

Oh, how she remembered. Janelle sat back again, looking out the window this time. She didn’t want to think about Jack Trellier or their wedding that never happened, didn’t want to think about how embarrassed and betrayed she’d felt that day and the hundreds of days to follow. And she definitely did not want to think about the secret she still kept from her best friends.

“I agree,” Vicki said. “It’s time to move on.”

Janelle almost said she had moved on. She almost argued that they were completely off base and that her reservations about dating, casual or otherwise, were not rooted in the broken heart her former fiancé had handed to her on a silver platter and the shame he’d served her as dessert. But these were her friends, and if she could limit her dishonesty with them, then she would.

“This is a business deal for my father. It’s not personal,” she reminded them when she looked their way again.

“Did you talk about politics at all during dinner?” Sandra asked.

“No,” Janelle replied.

“Did he kiss you good-night?” was Vicki’s question.

Janelle sighed again, the memory bringing a soft smile to her lips. “It was one hell of a good-night kiss, too.”

Sandra was instantly smiling. “Then that means the hot steamy sex is imminent. Let’s get to the Quarterdeck, order our drinks and discuss what you should wear for this night of seduction.”

Vicki stood, joining Sandra on their way out the door.

“Ah, we don’t have another date scheduled. I mean, he lives in Boston and I’m here and I was just going to send him an email asking about my father’s campaign, then maybe follow that with a call in a week or so. That’s all,” she told them frankly.