Indiscriminate Attraction

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?