Forbidden

Chapter 7: Brooklyn

Thursday, February 28

"So, what did you bring for lunch today?" Morgan asks.

My gaze snaps from my computer screen to him. He's looming over me, his camera in hand. His warm smile breaks across his face. I smile back before my focus is back on my computer screen.

"Give me one minute." My fingers fly across the keyboard. I have to finish notating the account from my last call. I don't want to forget one word from Mr. Sanders. He went on a thirty-minute rant about an article written about his ex-wife's business. He said the article was misleading because it painted his ex to look like some upstanding citizen - when she was actually a raving lunatic.

Yesterday, I started taking calls on my own. And I can't stop the small smile that breaks out each time I think about it. So, I have declared that every call I take by myself - demands a private celebration each time. No one can stop the high I've been on since yesterday. With how fast I'm picking up - I'm confident I can keep this job, find a place, and get my life in order - in three months top. Fingers crossed.

I spin in my seat toward Morgan after I hit the enter button. "I bought some Alfredo pasta and  salad with vinaigrette dressing." His face bunches. "What did you bring?"

"Nothing. I left my lunch bag sitting on the table at the house."

"Oh, that's too bad. You want to share my lunch - I have plenty?" Ms. Montego always packs my lunch with two people in mind. I'm positive she's trying to add some extra pounds to me.

"If you're sure. I can always grab something out of the cafeteria." He smiles at me as he pushes up his glasses. I nod my head up and down, then grin. "Thanks."

"No problem." I pull off my headset and lay it on my desk.

"Where is Rena today?" He asks, scanning the open floor.

"I'm not sure. I texted her this morning to see if she was ok, but she never texted me back."

"It's probably something with her boyfriend." He air-quotes her boyfriend.

I lift my shoulders to keep my eyes from going any wider. I want to ask questions, but I don't. I stay out of people's business. Whatever mess they are in - is their mess. I already know enough - with all the stories she tells us about her boyfriend and his baby momma every day. But who am I to talk about her? My ex brought me to an unfamiliar place, left me at his father's house, and has not come to check on me or call me. Who does that?

"Do you like her?" I ask as I watch his smile slowly fade.

"Who m-e-e?" His neck turns a bright red color. He shakes his head, but he doesn't look at me. "No. I mean - I used to have a small crush on her." His shoulders lift, and the red tint climbs his neck to his ears. "But she told me not to even think about it. She told me she only liked dark meat."

"I'm sorry."

I wave his hand in the air before another one of his warm smiles breaks across his face. "It's fine. It was two years ago. I have a girlfriend now."

"You do?" My voice goes up an octave. I cover my mouth with my hand. I'm so glad that my skin is dark.

"Yes." He smiles, and now his cheeks are pink. How many shades he can turn in an hour? "We live together." The smile he is wearing shows that he is a man in love. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

I shake my head. "No, and until I get myself together...I don't need one."

His lips tilt in the corners. "You just haven't found the one yet."