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Laylah turned sharply on her heel and looked dead into March’s eyes. “I don’t know about you, but I have very important work to do. All you have to do is open the folder and read what’s inside. You can read, can’t you?”
March’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits, hoping Laylah read the danger sign there. It would serve her well to check her tongue. “I can read, but I’d rather you read it to me.”
Exasperated was an understatement for what Laylah felt. She had two choices: she could stay and read the contents of the file to him or she could go back to her desk and finish her feature story. Selecting the last option would more than likely get her fired.
Taking the least controversial way out, Laylah opted to sit back down, praying for an abundance of patience. Slowly, almost methodically, she picked up the folder and opened it. She then read to March the date, time and location of Patricia Blakeley’s retirement dinner, the projected number of guests who had already RSVP’d, the regrets and the numbers of those who hadn’t responded one way or the other.
The meal choices and prices per person were run down for March, as well as the company information on the DJ and his fees. Last but not least, Laylah gave March the list of gifts suggested for the retiree. “No final decision on a gift has been made.”
“What’s the total projected budget for all this?” March queried Laylah.
After turning the folder around so March could see the top sheet, she pointed at the last set of numbers. “Those are the bottom-line figures.”
March whistled. “That’s a lot of money to spend on someone unworthy. Well, I guess it’s a small price to pay to finally be rid of her. Patricia is a constant thorn in my side. The woman has too much darn mouth. I hope I never hear her speak again.”
Laylah understood all too well why March had made such ignorant statements. Patricia was one of the employees who had made several complaints against him. She made no secret regarding the way she felt about him, telling anyone who’d listen that March was an inadequate administrator, one that should’ve never been hired.
Laylah agreed with Patricia wholeheartedly.
“Now that you have everything you’ve requested, may I please return to work?”
March looked down his wide nose at Laylah. “By all means. Thank you.”
The polite way in which March had last spoken had Laylah wondering if she’d heard him correctly. Even when he tried to be nice he still annoyed her, just as his condescending look had done. “You’re welcome.” Hoping she could get out of March’s office without any further communication with him, Laylah rushed to the exit.
March cleared his throat. “Hope you meet your deadline. Being late won’t look good for your record, especially on your next evaluation.”
If I have my way, you’ll never do another evaluation at this newspaper.
After Laylah returned to her desk, she sat down and began pounding away at the computer keys. Staying focused was a must if she was to meet her deadline. There had been enough disruptions already—and now she had to put her nose to the grindstone.
Less than an hour later, Laylah skidded into the printing area, where she handed over her feature story to Sean Lackland, the senior copy editor.
As Laylah cleaned off the vacant tables inside the shelter, Second Chances, she smiled beautifully at several other volunteers who had just sat down to eat. Her lovely gray eyes dazzled in the same way her effervescent personality did. She was always sweet and polite to everyone who came into the shelter. Folks loved her because she was so genuine. Though small in stature, she had a huge heart overflowing with love.
As a volunteer at the homeless shelter, her second gig, her duties pretty much ran the gamut. If she wasn’t serving meals, she could be found cleaning various areas of the shelter, stocking shelves with food and other items, or passing out new or used clean clothing. From time to time she helped Pastor Ross Grinage with the bookkeeping and any other duties he needed her to perform. She also wrote the shelter’s monthly newsletter. The patrons actually enjoyed reading her writings.
Laylah had very little personal time and she liked it that way. Keeping busy kept her from being too lonely. Since she hadn’t been involved in a serious relationship in quite some time, she was actually fearful of getting into another romantic saga.
Benjamin Irvine, the shelter’s founder and CEO, walked up to Laylah and gave her a warm hug. “How’s my favorite girl?”
She smiled wearily. “A little tired, but still blessed.”
She noticed that Benjamin had just gotten his wavy white hair cut and neatly edged. In her opinion, he was a nice-looking man, a very personable one. Standing around six feet, he towered over Laylah’s frame. The man was sort of an exercise freak, working out six days a week. He was single and was currently looking for the right woman to enhance his life.
“How long will you be working this evening?”
Laylah hunched her shoulders. “As long as I’m needed. Is it my imagination or are the numbers of the homeless increasing? I’ve seen so many new faces this month.”
Benjamin sighed hard. “Unfortunately, this particular population is growing by leaps and bounds. What’s really frightening is that many of the newer ones who’ve wandered in here lately were once high-salaried professionals. It makes me wonder.”
“I know.” Laylah nodded. “Just the other day I talked to a guy who’s an engineer. The company he worked for folded unexpectedly, leaving him without a job. When he could no longer pay his house note, he began living on the streets. People don’t realize we’re all just a paycheck away from homelessness. I try to stay very mindful of that.”
“I know what you mean. Putting a little money aside for emergency situations is something many of us fail to do.” Benjamin scratched his head. “Well, I guess we’d better get back to work. It’s close to the dinner hour and the outside lines for meals and a bed are already forming.”
Benjamin went on his way and Laylah resumed her duties.
Laylah still had a lot to do before the doors were open for meal service and bed assignments. Those seeking shelter were only allowed to stay on one night at a time. The patrons had to line up and then sign up each day. The hardest part of the process for Laylah was when someone was turned away once they ran out of beds. There were referral places they could send folks to, but other agencies had the same procedures in place. No matter how she viewed things, it was still rough emotionally for everyone.
Once Laylah put away the cleaning products, she slipped into the bathroom, where she thoroughly washed and dried off her hands. After changing into a clean smock that covered the upper portion of her body, she headed for the kitchen. Meal service would begin in about five or ten minutes. Once the doors were open, the place could get busy as a beehive until everyone was served and later assigned a bed for the night.
All smiles, Laylah began filling sectional plastic plates with food and handing them out to those in line. Everything was running smoothly, which wasn’t always the case. It could get pretty noisy inside the dining room and many times hot arguments ensued, the majority of them born out of sheer frustration and a low tolerance.
Benjamin was normally great at quieting things down. However, he had failed to restore calm a few times that she could recall with crystal clarity. The police were called in on those rare occasions, but no one had ever been arrested. More than anything, most of the patrons were just happy to have something to eat and a place to lay their heads.
The next guy in line had Laylah doing a double take. His dark hazel eyes were strangely alluring. Although he appeared somewhat disheveled, his clothing was cleaner than most. The slightly shaven appearance he wore actually looked good on him. His dark, curly hair was a bit long, lacking any sort of style, but it wasn’t dirty and straggly. From what she could actually see of his physique, he appeared to be in darn good shape.
Laylah suddenly felt the weirdest sensation right in the pit of her stomach, a totally unfamiliar one. Why’d she suddenly feel like she’d met this guy before?
The moment she realized she was blatantly summing up a homeless guy, she felt so embarrassed. The color of her humiliation was noticeably reflected in her cheeks.
“Thank you,” he said in a deep voice after she handed him a plate of food.
The man’s deep tone had surprised her, turning her on in the process. That she was attracted to his sexy voice also embarrassed her. “You’re welcome.” As the man moved on through the line, her eyes followed him, as if she had no control over them.
“Lady, can I please get served? We don’t have forever here.”
At the intolerant sound of the loud male voice, the color in Laylah’s cheeks deepened. She couldn’t help wondering if he sensed she’d lusted after the man served before him. God forbid, she thought, too embarrassed to make eye contact with the older man as she handed over the plate. Glad that the little shameful ordeal was over, she vowed to keep her mind on serving food versus being of service to some sexy stranger.
Thirty minutes later, as the line began to thin out, Laylah knew they’d already served more meals than they had the previous night. By stacking plates in groups of twenty-five, she was able to keep track of how many patrons were served. Paper cups could be accounted for in the very same manner even though people often used more than one.
With no one else standing in line, Laylah once again retrieved her cleaning tools. Her daily routine was to clean each table once it became empty, rather than cleaning them all at the end of meal service. As soon as the dining room was put back in order, she’d join Benjamin up at the front area of the shelter to assign beds.
Second Chances could accommodate up to thirty-two people a night.
Because Laylah had gotten herself involved in an interesting conversation with Bud Wilkes, one of the shelter’s regulars, she was a tad late getting up front to help out Benjamin. All new patrons had to fill out a personal-information form, which she thought was ridiculously silly, especially since it requested an address and phone number.
If the homeless had addresses and phones, they wouldn’t be seeking out shelters.
There were four guys filling out information forms, including the one Laylah had been somewhat intrigued with. She was very interested in reading what he’d put down, hoping the information might give her a few clues about him. What had led up to the patron becoming homeless? It was one of the most important questions on the form.
Stealing covert glances at the man she was slightly smitten with made Laylah feel awkward, but she couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off him. There was something familiar about him, but she couldn’t pinpoint it. She had the craziest notion that he had been quite a success story before his downfall into homelessness. She even thought his situation might be an excellent story to write, though she didn’t know any of his circumstances.
As far as Laylah was concerned, every person, homeless or otherwise, had an interesting story to pen. She couldn’t recall all the provocative stories she’d written on people who had once led a normal existence, yet had had a very powerful story to share with others.
As Laylah quickly assessed the situation, her heart broke. There were only three beds left, but the line was still quite long. Unfortunately, it was part of her task to turn the others away. She hated to be the bearer of bad tidings. Saying she was sorry for turning someone away just wasn’t enough, but there was nothing else to tell. The long, sad faces always tore at her heartstrings. In the first few months of volunteering at the shelter she had cried all the way home. She still hadn’t quite come to terms with all her emotions.
While she passed out a list of other shelters, she felt as though someone was staring hard at her. As she turned around, her eyes locked with the ones that had intrigued her earlier. His dark hazel gaze pierced her soul, making her wish she could’ve met him under different circumstances. What was it about this guy that had her heart beating so hard and fast? Why was it so easy for her to imagine him dressed to the nines and looking every bit the corporate raider? Why did he have such sexy, expressive eyes?
Once she handed the newcomer a list, she had a hard time hiding how sorry she felt for turning him away, especially since he had been the very next person in line.
He briefly touched Laylah’s hand as she turned to walk away. Her obvious emotional state had rocked his soul. “This job’s really tough on you, isn’t it?”
Surprised by his question, Laylah lowered her lashes, nodding. “Very hard.”
“You seem to take it personally when turning someone away. I just need you to know I understand. I don’t take it personally.” He eyed her with genuine concern.
“Thank you for that. It means a lot to me. By the way, my name is Laylah,” she said, pointing at her name tag.
“You’re welcome. And I’m Chancellor. Everyone calls me Chance,” he remarked, extending his large, smooth-looking hand to her, his fingernails clean as a whistle.
Chancellor’s grip was firm and warm, causing Laylah to feel as if she were sweating internally. His voice was a real turn-on, but she wished it wasn’t. What she experienced with him was nothing short of insane—and he still seemed so familiar.
Chancellor looked down at the list. “Think I’ll have any luck at one of these other places? It’s getting late.”
The question was a difficult one. She didn’t want to lie to him. The truth was that people lined up at the same time every day at most of the shelters; the chances of him getting a bed this late were nil and none. “I wish I could tell you yes, but I can’t.”
A disturbing look suddenly clouded Chancellor’s eyes. “Why do you people pass out this list if you already know the outcome? It then becomes a wild-goose chase.”
“Good question. I’ve asked the same one myself dozens of times. I don’t make the rules. I just volunteer here.”
“Why do you do it?”
Laylah looked perplexed. “Do what?”
“Volunteer your time in such a cheerless place?”
The smile Laylah flashed Chancellor was soft and sweet. “I love helping out others. If I can put a simple smile on one person’s face, or just pass on a few kind words to someone, it makes me feel so good inside. I derive a lot of pleasure from this job.”
“I don’t see how you get pleasure out of working here, unless you enjoy seeing others suffering. If nothing else, I’m sure this nonpaying job is a thankless one.”
“I can see how you might feel that way.” Laylah shook her head from side to side. “But I’m not looking for gratitude. I simply want to be of service to the people in my community and to others who are in need. I really love people.”
“Why not volunteer at the Red Cross or at a local hospital? Why here?”
“Why are you asking all these questions? Why do you care, anyway?”
“I’m curious to know why a beautiful, vibrant young woman wants to be around so much pain and suffering. There has to be a darn good reason why you do this.”
“And I’m curious to know why you give a darn one way or the other.”
The dark look on Laylah’s face told Chancellor he had deeply offended her. That hadn’t been his intent. He had merely wanted to know why she wanted to spend her free time in a godforsaken place like this one. Had someone in her family become homeless? Was she possibly doing this out of some sort of guilt complex? He’d really like to know.
Knowing she should bring this conversation to an end, Laylah nervously shuffled her feet. “I really have to get back to work now. Wish I could find you a place to stay tonight, but I can’t. Try to get here earlier tomorrow. People start lining up at least two hours before we assign beds. The regulars all know the ropes.”
“For what? So you can hand me another list and send me packing?” For whatever reason, Chancellor wanted to keep Laylah talking, wanted more time in her company. He also had to wonder if she was truly an angel of mercy. He somehow thought she was. She was certainly as beautiful as what he’d always imagined an angel to look like.
A light suddenly came on in Laylah’s eyes. “Can you please wait a minute, Chance? I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
Wondering why she wanted him to wait for her, Chancellor looked after her dazedly as she skidded down the hall and quickly disappeared around a corner. His gaze dropped to the floor as he wished he was anywhere but inside a homeless shelter. Upon closing his eyes for a brief word of prayer, he heard heels clicking against the concrete floor. He cut his supplication short and then looked up to await her arrival.
Discreetly, Laylah pressed several neatly folded bills into Chancellor’s hand. “Go get yourself a room. There’s a very nice motel, Sweet Dreams Inn, about three short blocks from here. The place is very clean and well tended to. Tell Mr. Arlie Jones I sent you. My full name is Laylah Versailles. Arlie is a dear friend of mine. He’s good people.”
Chancellor was positively amazed by Laylah’s altruistic spirit. He felt ashamed to take the money, but he figured she’d be offended if he did otherwise. He got the feeling she didn’t make a habit of handing out cash, otherwise she’d probably be broke by now. Out of all the folks who came to the shelter, why had she decided to help him? Knowing full well that he’d pay her back every red cent, he slipped the money in his pocket. This was one kind gesture he’d never forget. It was very special. “Thanks. I’ll be going now.”
“Be safe, Chance. Hope you get here in time tomorrow to score a bed.”
Laylah couldn’t take her eyes off Chancellor’s retreating back. His stride was confident. This man was somebody important. Though she couldn’t explain why she felt that way, she was darn near sure of it. Something devastating must have occurred in his life recently, but what? What had sent him out into the mean streets of Los Angeles to look for a place to lay his weary head? And why was she so darn interested in him?
Laylah couldn’t stop thinking about Chancellor as she fulfilled the last of her duties. Once Laylah gathered her belongings, she gave her cheerful farewells to the night crew and then hurried from the building. Chancellor was still heavy on her mind as she reached her car and got inside.
Chapter 2
Arlie Jones gave Laylah a warm hug and a brilliant smile. “Happy to see you, but what brings you down here so late in the evening?”
“I referred your motel to a homeless guy and I came by to see if he checked in. Unfortunately, I don’t know his surname.” She then provided Arlie with a first name.
Arlie shook his head in the negative. “No one by that name has checked in here this evening. All but two of my rooms are occupied. If you’d like, I’ll try to save one for the guy just in case he shows up.”
Hoping she hadn’t given away her money in vain, Laylah couldn’t hide her bitter disappointment. What if Chancellor was a drinker or drug user? If so, she’d supplied him with enough money to score himself a few highs. “I have to go now, Arlie. I hope Chance shows up before you run out of rooms. I really thought he needed somewhere to stay.”
“He does,” said a slightly familiar voice. “That’s why I’m here.” Chancellor made direct eye contact with Arlie. “If you’re Mr. Arlie Jones, I’m supposed to tell you Laylah Versailles sent me over here to rent a room for the night.” Chancellor moved over to the counter and extended his hand to Arlie. “Am I in luck?”
“You surely are,” Arlie responded with enthusiasm, handing Chancellor a clipboard with a registration form attached to it. “Just fill out this baby and we’ll get you all squared away. All I really need is a name.”
Laylah was embarrassed to no end. It was one thing for her to stop by the motel to check on Chancellor, but it was another matter altogether to get caught red-handed at it. The things she’d already done regarding him were so unusual. He had to think she had lost all her marbles. If he didn’t think so, she certainly did. As well as purely insane, her behavior was also dangerous. She was actually inside the office of a motel to track down a virtual stranger, a homeless one at that.
How sick was that?
Arlie appeared amused as he looked back and forth between Laylah and the disheveled man she had come there to inquire about. If he didn’t know better, he’d think his little friend was infatuated with the man she had earlier referred to as Chance. He thought it was very strange indeed, since she’d also told him the guy was homeless. One thing Arlie was certain of was Laylah’s embarrassment. Her deeply reddened cheeks were a dead giveaway.
Feeling skittish, Laylah backed up toward the front door. “Glad you made it here safely, Chance. I have to go now. I hope you get a good night’s rest. Good night, Arlie.”
Raising his hand in a farewell gesture, Arlie smiled sympathetically at Laylah, wishing he could say something to make her feel better. She looked so down. If nothing else, she should feel really good about helping out others. She was known around the community for trying to make life easier for folks. However, he thought there might be something else going on with her regarding this man. A more personal interest, perhaps.
Laylah hit the car’s remote button to open the door. Just before she got into the driver’s seat, she heard her name drifting softly on the air. Chancellor had called out to her—the last thing she needed right now, especially since she had only made a total fool of herself. She was embarrassed enough already, yet she waited on him to reach her.
Chancellor stopped a few inches away from Laylah, careful not to step into her personal space. “I want to thank you again. Your generosity means a lot to me. If you have any odd jobs you’d like me to do or any errands you need run, please let me know. It’d make me feel better if I can pay you back somehow. I’ll be around for a while.”
“Payback is not necessary. However, if I hear of any decent jobs, I’ll try to let you know.” She laughed softly. “I guess the only way I can do that is when you stop by the shelter. Just remember what I said about getting there early to land a bed.”
“I won’t forget it, Laylah. Take care and drive safely.”
She quickly turned around and called out, asking him to wait a minute. As Chancellor faced her, he smiled beautifully. Laylah’s breath caught at the sight of healthy white teeth and pink gums. Why was his smile so familiar? His good dental hygiene was further evidence that he may have recently gotten down on his luck.
Laylah smiled back. “How are you at gardening? I have some yard work you could do at my place. I haven’t had the opportunity to hire a permanent gardener yet. Interested in the job?”
“Definitely! When do you want me to come by?”
