Whisper Privileges (4 page)

Sydney caught sight of Sam as she entered
through the dark wooden entrance doors to the lobby and waved.
Colorful layers of sheer skirt fabric cut above the knee danced
about her legs as she hurried over. Feminine and stylish, Sam’s
cropped red jacket kept the ensemble professional. Make that summer
professional, or Sam’s version of casual Friday on Monday. She, on
the other hand, opted for her standard straight skirt and V-cut
tank. Today’s shade was turquoise, one of her all-time
favorites.

Sam breezed across travertine floors buffed
to a lustrous shine and pecked Sydney’s cheek with a kiss. “I’m not
late, am I?”

“Not even a second,” she returned, swallowed
up by a rush of Sam’s spicy perfume. Amazing. Six o’clock and the
woman remained fresh faced and fully scented, her full lips painted
deep red, her eyes lined in dark brown.

“Good. Because I hear a martini calling my
name and you know I don’t like to keep those sweet babies
waiting.”

Sydney laughed. “When
don’t
martinis
call your name?”

She slapped Sydney with a head-on gaze, one
of the few women who could look her eye-to-eye and said, “I know,
right? It’s a curse.”

“Try blessing,” Sydney offered quietly.

“Sounds like someone needs a drink.”

“I need more than a drink, but we can start
there.”

Sam slipped an arm through Sydney’s and
waltzed her toward the bar. “Well, let’s get started, shall
we?”

Moving among the sleek and young, Sydney
noted that most men had discarded the formality of jacket and tie,
their collared shirts opened at the neck as they caroused the
crowd. Women remained decked out in full business dress—if you
could call some of these outfits business—with their ultra-short
skirts and plunging necklines. And to think she felt like she was
pushing the edge of decorum going sleeveless. But these women were
on the hunt, much like their male counterparts. Hair and makeup had
obviously been touched and redone, accelerating them into full
femme-fatale mode. Where meat markets weren’t Sydney’s style,
Olives was only ten minutes from home and offered any martini you
could dream up—particularly important this evening.

“Bad day at the office?” Sam asked, checking
out male patrons as they passed.

“Horribly bad day at the office.”

“We’re in luck.” Sam pointed. Two vacant
seats at the far end of the bar.

“Good.” She didn’t feel like standing, but
she would. So long as she had a drink in her hand, she would stand
for hours.

The bartender eyed them as they approached.
Slim and very Latin, he slid two napkins on the black granite bar
top in front of them as they took possession of the upholstered
stools. “What will it be, ladies?”

Sam hooked her purse on the chair back and
told him, “I’m ready for a stiff one.”

He smiled at her request and hinted that
oh yes
, he understood her ulterior meaning. Seemed he too,
could go for the same. With a sexy swirl of accent he asked,
“What’s your flavor?”

She smiled broadly. “Well, you’re not bad for
a start.”

He gave Sam a playful smile, though his eyes
assumed a sultry heat—like a man suddenly on the prowl. Seemed
someone was accustomed to attention from the ladies. “You are a
fantastic
start, beautiful lady.”

Sam grinned. “Gin martini, straight up, three
olives.” She paused just long enough for him to turn to Sydney for
her order before adding, “And make it dirty.”

His smile took on a lusty hue as he replied,
“But of course, darling. It’s the
only
way.”

“Smart man,” she said.

Reminding the two of her presence, Sydney cut
in, “I’ll have a mango martini, please.”

The bartender slid his eyes in her direction
and smiled, lingering, as though to remind
her
he hadn’t
forgotten that there was yet another beautiful woman in his
presence. “Your pleasure is my command,” he said and whisked away
to reach into the fridge behind the counter.

Nothing like smearing it on thick
,
Sydney thought, then said to Sam, “And what are you doing flirting
with the bartender? I thought you and Vic were serious.”

“We are,” she said, her gaze tacked to the
man’s rear as he pulled out the slender bottle of gin.

“How would he feel if he knew you were making
eyes at the bartender?”

Sam turned to Sydney and smiled. “I’m not
blind
, I’m dating. Besides, Vic’s not worried about me.” She
gestured toward the bartender and said, “That young man there is
just a cougar snack.”

“A
what
?”

“A cougar snack. You know...something to tide
me over until I see my man again.” Sam winked, then rapped her
fingers against the bar top. “Now tell me about this day of yours.
We need to flush these toxins out of your system and that martini
of yours is only the beginning. Talk to me.”

Sydney shook her head. Too true. “Javier
expects me to escort Team Florida during the opening ceremonies and
then say a few words to the crowd.”

“Perfect! Which reminds me—I need four more
tickets for the event.”

“As an addition to the four you already
requested?”

“Yes.” Large brown eyes cast a look of
pleading innocence. “Is that too many?”

“If you plan on keeping your sanity it is,
but as far as the number of tickets goes, I can get them.” There
were some perks to this gig. Front row seats, VIP tickets—it was
the least she could do for a friend and the kids would have a
ball.

The bartender strolled up with their drinks
and deftly placed them on the bar before them. “Here are two
gorgeous martinis for two gorgeous women.”

The man was quick, she’d give him that.

Sam’s gaze bounced from her drink to him and
said, “
Definitely gorgeous
.”

He received the intended compliment as though
it were a highly bestowed honor. “I won’t be far,” he assured her,
his accent heavy, his tone provocative.

“Let’s hope not.”

Sydney grasped the cone-shaped glass filled
with ice-cold, orange liquid and shook her head. “Poor Vic.”

“Poor Vic,
nothing
. The man has me
tied up like a West African voodoo doll tucked away in his front
pocket and he knows it. It’s not my fault I have tendencies.” She
brought the glass to her lips and pulled in a healthy swallow of
gin. “Damn, he’s good.”

“Who—Vic or the bartender?”

“Both.”

Sydney laughed. Sam never hungered for male
companionship, that was for sure! From the day Diego introduced the
two, she learned Sam’s weekends were lined with good-looking men
and most of them younger than herself where she on the other hand
usually slugged through dry spells without a man in sight. But
dating never seemed to work out for her the way it did for Sam.
Thoughts of Javier curdled her mood. Maybe she should try a younger
man. Older ones seemed to enjoy the control factor a little too
much.

“So what’s up, Syd? The big events are days
away, yet you seem like you could care less. What gives?”

Tasting the vodka-infused mango juice, she
savored the ice-cold liquid as it cut across her tongue and down
her throat, leaving a distinct aftertaste of sugar in its wake.
Damn good, if you asked her. Sweet and potent, worthy of near
pharmaceutical labeling. Lingering over the finish in her mouth,
the streams of calm pummeling through her muscles, she looked at
Sam and considered her situation. “You know this is not my first
choice of events and now that Javier’s dropped this little speaking
surprise in my lap my troubles are compounded.”

“But opening ceremonies are a big deal. The
whole week is huge.” Sam waved a hand through the air. “You said so
yourself. Aren’t you looking forward to it at all?”

Did it make her a bad person because she
preferred to be working with celebrity golfers rather than special
needs athletes? Wanted to immerse herself in the world of high
brass sponsors, not small town athletics? Kids weren’t her thing.
Sure the Special Olympics were world renowned, a big operation, but
it wasn’t like the regular Olympics where millions and millions of
people tuned in. It was geared toward a specific segment of the
population. Was it a character flaw that she didn’t want to be
included?

Maybe. But it didn’t change the facts. She
wasn’t looking forward to the upcoming events and she wasn’t about
to pretend differently with Sam. “Not really.”

“But I don’t get it. Why not?”

She glanced at Sam. “I’d rather have worked
the Celebrity Golf Classic.”

“Want to rub elbows with the beautiful
people?”

“I couldn’t care less about the society of
plastics.” One look around this bar and it seemed women were
resorting to the knife and needle at younger and younger ages. Even
the men looked like they took way too much interest in their looks.
Were they injecting? Implanting silicone?

“Now, now. Nothing wrong with people wanting
to look their best.”

Sydney withdrew her gaze from the people
surrounding her and growled under her breath. No, but some people
went too far for their looks. All some women cared about was
capturing a man’s attention and were none too shy about using
whatever surgical procedure or body part it took to do so.
And
where did it get them
?

Nowhere. Life was about action,
accomplishment. It was about doing. “I want to work the events that
can take my career places. There are some big sponsors associated
with that golf tournament and I wanted to get in front of
them.”

“Handling these sporting events should give
you some pretty good exposure, if you ask me.”

Yes,
exposure
. Javier had mentioned as
much. It was precisely the exposure she didn’t care for.

“Aren’t you always trying to get noticed so
you can climb the proverbial ladder?”

“I’m a glorified assistant on this one, Sam.
The Special Olympics organization is a great group, don’t get me
wrong, but they take care of most everything. They don’t even need
me. And now Javier wants me to play the Barbie doll for
display?”

“A talking one at that!”

Sydney glared.

Sam shrugged, brown eyes twinkling with
challenge. “Just say no.”

“Then watch him give away more of my events,
including my promotion?” She turned back to her drink. “No thank
you.”

“You referring to the Morgan thing?”

“Yes. The golf show was mine. Javier knew I
wanted that job but he gave it to her instead.” How did he expect
her to earn a promotion if he refused to give her the important
events? Was he sabotaging her on purpose? She suspected Morgan may
be undermining her—again—but Javier? She didn’t understand him. On
the one hand, he claimed he still cared about her, yet proceeded to
rip the floor clear out from under her. At this rate, she didn’t
stand a chance.

“Do you think he’s sleeping with her?”

The question felt like a punch. “I don’t
know,” Sydney spat. “Javier doesn’t share his private life with
me.” Not anymore, anyway. “They probably are. The woman will do
anything to get to the top—lie, cheat, steal.” Morgan was a bitter
loser. It wouldn’t surprise Sydney if she were using Javier to get
the events she wanted by sleeping with him. The last straw came
when Morgan lost the International Finance Convention to Sydney
last year. She accused her of using unfair advantage because of her
relationship with Javier. She wasn’t. Morgan was new to the company
and Sydney had seniority over her. Oh, but the venom spitting from
her back then over the injustice of it all. Ironic how Morgan was
now doing the very thing she accused Sydney of.

Sam nodded. “I remember.”

“The point remains, he gave my event to
her.”

“Maybe he had good reason.”

“More like taking advantage of his
relationship with me.”
His old relationship with her
. But
these days the tables were turned. He was keeping assignments from
her rather than doling them out in her favor. Sydney downed a
generous swallow of her drink. He’d been getting back at her ever
since the break up and she was getting pretty fed up with it.

“How about you’re the best he’s got and the
Special Olympics is a major client.”

Savoring the heat of alcohol as it spread
through her chest, Sydney mocked with a smile, “Nice try.”

“It’s the truth. I don’t see Morgan splitting
atoms at the kitchen table, if you know what I mean.”

“Kim could have done it. Jerry could have
done it. Any number of the associates could have handled this
event. It’s an easy gig.” Except Charlie. He would have been the
worst person for the job. “Javier chose me because Morgan wanted my
golf tournament, but also because of my connection to
you
.”

“Me?” Sam flinched at the hit. “How am I to
blame for this?”

“Because your Big Sisters group raved about
me after your annual picnic last summer, remember?”

Sam softened instantly at the mention of her
kids, her eyes widening in acknowledgement. “Well, they
did
like you.”

“Great. And now I’ll have more kids to like
me.”

Sam chuckled and set her glass down on the
bar. “Listen, the climb up the ladder is riddled with pitfalls,
peppered with opinion. Your job is to hold on tight and hope you’re
not allergic as you cling to the rungs.”

“Perfect.”

Bumped from behind, a petite brunette quickly
chirped, “Sorry.”

Sydney nodded absently.

“Everything happens for a reason and a
purpose. Just remember that.”

Yes, well, Sam’s helpful idioms and positive
thinking were doing nothing to solve her problem. She didn’t know
anything about special needs kids. She barely had experience with
regular kids let alone those in need of extra attention. She
preferred mainstream events, the fast-track to connections. At
least give her cutting edge technology and shiny objects. But kids?
Why pick
her
for these games? Marinating in her misery, she
pulled a sip from her tangy sweet martini. To punish her, that’s
why.