Page 22 of Spread Your Wings

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Sammy took his portable stereo with him to work the next morning. He had Queen’s Jazz album in the tape deck, rewound to the beginning of the A side. He left a message with the receptionist: “If anyone stops by asking for me, call me right away and play this tape.”

She stared at him like he was crazy, but jiggled her blond ponytail with a nod.

She buzzed the intercom on his phone just before ten. “Someone to see you, Mr. Connelly.”

He heard a click, and the first note of the song before he was on his feet, headed to the stairway. He walked as fast as he could without running. He moved at top speed, but the song was halfway over when he arrived at the reception area.

As he rounded the corner, he saw two fresh-faced internship candidates. They sat on either side of a low table loaded with news magazines. Neither of them was the man he wanted to see.

He glanced toward the door, and the direction of the music. Instead of sitting while he waited, Mustafa stood in the glass doorway. In one hand, he held a garment bag, the other was on the door handle. He swayed to the music.

“Mustafa!”

He had gotten even more handsome. His head was shaved close to his scalp from the edges of his beard to his crown.

Sammy wanted to caress the white scar near his temple, where no hair grew.

The thick waves on top of Mustafa’s head were neatly slicked back from his face with gel.

The Georgia State Panther on the front of his loose blue t-shirt looked menacing.

He glanced up from his appraisal to meet Mustafa’s eyes, even more menacing.

The piercing glare stopped him between the desk and the door.

So close, finally, and still so far away.

“Oh good, you’re here,” the receptionist said. “This song is crap. I’m turning it off.”

Sammy didn’t argue before he heard a click and the music stopped.

“That song is classic rock at its finest,” Sammy said over his shoulder.

“Aerosmith or Zeppelin. That’s classic rock at its finest,” she responded.

Sammy huffed. He didn’t have time to argue with her. Mustafa leaned against the door, cracking it open.

“Please wait,” Sammy said. “I can explain.”

“Explain what? Gavin told me. You moved back in with him? With ‘Dear Sammy Letter’ asshole?” His voice, his arms, even the door he held shook with emotion.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave if you continue to use that language,” the receptionist said.

“Sorry,” Mustafa mumbled.

“Please, let me clear this up,” Sammy said, hoping they would both give him the chance he needed. “I did no such thing. He’s a liar. I moved to a new apartment when I got back and found him still living at my place. If you’d left me a phone number, I would have called and told you all about it.”

“I sent you a letter with my number,” Mustafa growled. “I tried to call, but your number was disconnected.”

“Yeah. Gavin got a new number, and I didn’t get your letter.” His landlord had forwarded his mail. The one letter he needed must have slipped through the cracks. Or Gavin had it. “I’m sorry he lied to you. My new place is closer to Georgia State, if that makes a difference.”

“Is it close to the Ritz-Carlton?”

“It’s walking distance from here, and the University.

It’s a little further to the Ritz, but you could take the Metro.

Want me to show you? We could go now.” Sammy needed to do something to burn the nervous energy pulsing through him.

This had to work. Mustafa had to understand. Sammy had never meant to hurt him.

“I have to get to work.” Mustafa held up the suit he was holding, still in its dry-cleaning plastic. “What time are you off?”

“I’m leaving at noon. Our boss gave us a half-day for an early holiday. You could stop by?”

Mustafa nodded, seeming a little less angry than he had when Sammy first saw him.

Sammy turned to the receptionist. He didn’t have to ask if she’d been listening. She handed him a pad of paper and a pen. He scribbled four lines with a flourish, including his new number. He tore the paper from the pad and handed it to Mustafa. “Whenever you want.”

Mustafa gave him a once-over, as though seeing him for the first time. When their eyes met again, Sammy had to avoid the intense desire.

“Tonight.”

Sammy wanted to run to him, to kiss away his doubts. He took a step forward.

The receptionist cleared her throat behind him. One of the internship candidates snickered. Sammy whirled around to glare at them. By the time he turned back, Mustafa was gone.