Page 10 of Zimyra

I settle at a two-seater table, order a shrimp ramen bowl, and take out my phone. I dial my stepfather’s cell.

“What did you find out?”

That’s how he answered the phone. Yeah, Peter Bayne was all business like that – a straight-to-the-point kind of guy. Who needed cordiality when business needed to be handled? He was the same way when I was growing up, too, and my mother swears I adopted his traits. I think as a teenager, I was reaching out for someone to look up to, and since my father had died, Peter is who I aspired to be – rich, dominant, rigid but more disciplined and levelheaded when the situation warranted it. I was twelve when Peter came into my life – fourteen when he married my mother. I was a minor, but she asked if I wanted to keep my last name instead of adopting his. I always appreciated her for giving me a choice. Ultimately, I decided to keep my father’s name. I was the only one left to carry on that name, and though I had no plans to, at least the option was on the table. Besides, it brought me great happiness to know that I would always be aJennings.

Whatever the case, my hat will always go off to Peter. He patiently taught me the ins and outs of the business and took me under his wing. He never had children of his own and, well, I was it – the son he never had. The son he was extremely proud of. He’d tell everyone who would listen abouthisboy. About how proud he was that I graduatedsumma cum laudefrom Hartford. I couldn’t step foot in a room without him bragging about me. I appreciated it, though. Before my mother met him, she was struggling. She kept food on the table, but it wasn’t easy. Then they met and Peter did everything for her – for us. He certainly lightened the load and allowed my mother to breathe. She was unburdened and happy. I saw her smile again. She was back to her old self. Now, she spends her days doing the things she loves – exercise classes, donating to charities, gardening, and hanging with her book club friends.

“Hey, you there?” Peter asks.

“Yes, I’m here, Peter,” I say. I always called him by his first name and sometimesPopsdepending on what I’m feeling like at the time. “You just get straight to business, huh? No asking me if I’ve settled in or nothing.”

“I know you’ve settled in. I want to know if you were able to meet the St. Claire lady.”

The St. Claire lady…

He has her sounding like an old woman when she’s nothing close to it. She’s a beauty – pretty beyond measure and delicate enough to mold. Her scent instantly comes to my nostrils. Her smile is behind my pupils. Her—

“Axel?”

“Yes, I’ve met her,” I say. “Sorry. I’m a little distracted. I’m in a restaurant right now,” I tell him, but nothing here is distracting. It’s her – Zimyra – and all my many thoughts of her.

“And?”

“She’s making me fill out an application for the maintenance position.”

Peter is laughing so loudly, I have to move my cell away from my ear.

“I’m glad you find humor in that.”

Coming down off laughter, he says, “That’s golden. Who would’ve ever thought my Hartford graduate would be filling out an application for a maintenance position? Good googly moogly! Boy times have changed.”

“Okay—never say good googly…whatever the rest of that was ever again. Second, she doesn’t know I’m the COO of Leverage. As far as she knows, I’m some dude off the street looking for a job. And now, I have to find a way to fill out an application?”

“You know how to fill out an application, Ax.”

“I’ve never done it before. Oh, and get this—she wants a resumé.”

“Get her what she’s asking for. Keep in mind this is research for you. Once you get hired on, you’re going to get the inside scoop on how this lady is operating the office so efficiently. We need this intel for the future of this company. Everything is going to work out. You’re only there for a few months and then you’re back here at the corporation where you belong.”

“You got that right. These country bumpkins got me almost trying to learn a new language with that Southern twang to their voices. It’s very different and interesting.”

“I bet. What about the St. Claire lady? She got that Southern twang, too?”

“She does, a little, but not as much as the guy who works the concierge desk at the downtown apartments. He told me something this morning, and I just smiled and kept on walking. I think I may have offended him, but I had no clue what the man said.”

He laughs. “Ay, if you stay there long enough, you’ll be talking just like them.”

“No way.”

“Anyway, what is the feel of Atlantic? How did you feel walking into the place?”

How did I feel walking into the place?

I felt like my inability to breathe was being severely challenged. I remember seeing her face and immediately thinking that there was no way I could work so closely with a woman so breathtaking and accomplish what I needed to accomplish down here. And then I recalled looking at her bare feet. In the brief moment my eyes caught sight of them, I saw that her toenails were painted white. She has a tattoo of stars sprinkled down her right ankle. I immediately wondered if she had any elsewhere.

“Ax…”

“Oh my bad,” I say, shaking out of my thoughts about her. I say, “The place is clean. Smells fresh. It upholds the luxury brand of Leverage. There wasn’t a speck of dust in sight. But, as is the case with all apartments, there will be some maintenance issues, though she didn’t point out any and why would she? She thought I was a future tenant. That’s not something you share with tenants.”

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