“John, you’re a jewel. I don’t want to make any waves for Afrika.”
“I thought this was the reason I was accompanying you?”
“Let it go, John. I wasn’t thinking straight.” Mimi balled her hands into little fists and released them. “I got caught up in…”
“You couldn’t resist my charm?” John said, and then chuckled.
“John, you’re making this harder than it’s supposed to be.”
“I got you, Mimi. Handle your business. I’ll be around.”
“Okay,” Mimi said, and took off in the direction of the business office.
John stood at attention with his arms folded and watched as Mimi strolled toward the brick building. Mimi turned around slowly and saw John staring and quickly turned back around and walked as fast as she could. John smiled, unfolded his arms, contemplated something, and began to move forward.
Before John could talk himself out of it, he found himself in the lobby of the Admissions Office. There was very little traffic, and he approached the receptionist with his best smile. The receptionist smiled back.
“Good afternoon,” John said, giving the pretty young lady with the bleached blonde hair a quick once over. Her oval face was a smooth caramel with deep, brown eyes that smiled back at John, and her medium-thick lips were inviting. She was very attractive, but getting past her and into Victor Christianson’s office was his priority.
“Hello…ahh, ahh,” John said as he looked for a nameplate.
“It’s Ms. Simpson,” the pretty lady said, now showing her pearly whites.
“Ms. Simpson, my name is John Carroll, and I’m an old friend of Mr. Victor Christianson. I was in the neighborhood, and I was hoping to say hello. All I need is a few minutes.”
“Let me check with his secretary.” Ms. Simpson dialed a number, allowing her roving eyes to keep John in her sight…keeping him under tight scrutiny. “Sheila,” she whispered, looking up at John who backed away, “there’s a fine brother out front wanting to see your boss. He says he’s a friend of Mr. Christianson. Girl, he’s so damn good looking, I just want to throw myself at him, and explain later.”
“Phyllis, you are so crazy. I’m sure he’s not as fine as Victor.”
“I don’t know what you see in him. Everybody has had him.”
“Why don’t you let me worry about that? Anyway, he’s a last fling before I tie the knot. I’m going to milk Victor for all I can get. I am, however, getting a little sick and tired of his daughter showing up whenever she gets good and ready, demanding his attention. But none of that will matter soon.”
“Well, Ms. Sheila, if that’s what you want, but you know you’re not being fair to the man you claim you’re going to spend the rest of your life with. Look, my fine brother seems a little agitated, so would you let me know if the great Mr. Victor Christianson will see him?”
“What’s his name?”
“Girl, I forgot that fast. Hold on; let me ask.” Phyllis placed one hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. “Sir, may I have your name again, please?”
“John Carroll.” He smiled.
“It’s John Carroll,” Phyllis said to Sheila. “Okay.” Phyllis hung up the phone. “Mr. Carroll, Mr. Christianson’s secretary will call me in a minute to see if…”
“Saved by the phone,” John said, anxious to have his time with Victor.
“Okay, I’ll let him know,” Phyllis said, hanging up the phone. “Mr. Christianson will see you, Mr. Carroll. He only has a few minutes.”
“That will be fine. Point the way.”
John followed Phyllis’ instructions and found himself in front of Sheila’s desk. Before he was able to introduce himself, the door opened and a smiling Victor came out.
“I’ll be damned. What brings you to my neck of the woods after all this time?” Victor asked John, giving him the fist bump. “Come on in.”
Sheila recoiled after Victor slammed the door. She picked up the phone and dialed Phyllis. “Girl, I think you’re right about this one. I won’t be mad if you snatch him for yourself. I’ll see if I can get the four-one-one on him.”
“Thanks for looking out.”
“Gotcha, Phyllis. Will talk with you later.”
JOHN FOLLOWED VICTOR INTO HIS OFFICE AND SAT IN THE WING-back chair in front of Victor’s desk.
“When was the last time we spoke…four, five…six, seven years ago?” Victor asked, as he crossed his legs, leaning back in his chair almost as far as it would go without tipping over.
“It probably has been longer than that. I can’t remember.”
“So, John, what brings you by? We weren’t running partners