The Heat Seekers

Geren had originally planned to take her to Rock Creek Park, near the back entrance to the National Zoo, but quickly ditched the idea. One, he didn’t want her to think she was regulating, and two, he was determined to make her admit she didn’t know hide nor hair about Rollerblading. “Actually, I thought we would head over to the brokerage firm and blade through the indoor parking garage. I know the attendant, and it will be practically empty today except for the new associates still trying to prove they are worthy enough to be there.”

“The brokerage firm parking garage?” Geren could hear the nervousness in Tempest’s voice.

“Yes.” He chuckled. “I figure we can kill two birds with one stone. I can show you my office and then we can do some serious blading, like they do on the ESPN Extreme Games. You ever check those out on cable?”

“No, I can’t say that I have,” Tempest replied cautiously. “What are the Extreme Games?”

“Oh, that’s when they do all kinds of wild and crazy things, like laying down on skateboards and racing through the streets, skydiving, and other cool stuff. The Rollerbladers really get down. I bet you could show them a thing or two, since you’re such an expert.”

Tempest let out a hideous laugh. “Yeah, I bet I could.” She tightened up one of her knee pads and then added, “You know, it’s such a beautiful day, and I really had my heart set on skating in the park. Who wants to go inside some dim, exhaust-filled parking garage on a day like this? That’s sadomasochistic.”

She was looking for a way out, but Geren was not even having it. “Okay, I’ll tell you what. We’ll swing by the office. I need to pick up a file I need for a breakfast meeting on Monday anyway. Then we’ll do a couple of speed-skating laps down the ramps. After that, we can head on over to Rock Creek Park, do some more skating, maybe tour the zoo, and then have a late lunch or early dinner on Connecticut Avenue.”

“Sounds like heaven,” Tempest said, lying her ass off.

“Cool,” Geren replied. “We’re almost there. Just a couple more lights.”

Tempest let out that hideous laugh again. Geren laughed too, real loud. He couldn’t wait to see her make a fool of herself.

Okay, so I bit off a little bit more than I could chew, Tempest thought to herself. I don’t know a damn thing about Rollerblading, roller-skating, or any other kind of rolling except for rolling my hair.

Her Aunt Geraldine, the one who ended up shacking with her high school sweetheart, took Tempest to the roller rink once when she was about nine. Tempest had never forgotten the humiliation.

There she was, sitting on the front stoop in a new pair of Jordache jeans, a white knit sweater, and a gold chain belt, thinking Aunt Geraldine was picking her up to go to the mall. That was their usual Saturday routine. She would scoop Tempest up on her way to Iverson Mall or Capital Plaza, and they would go spend the money Aunt Geraldine’s man of the week had given her.

But, noooooooo, not that day. Aunt Geraldine had this ingenious idea about going skating so Tempest could meet some new friends. Tempest couldn’t care less about meeting new friends. She had a best friend: Janessa.

Tempest fell on her ass so much that day, she had to sleep on top of a pile of pillows for two weeks. Thoughts of the ordeal flashed through her mind while Geren bopped his head to the jazz music coming from his car’s stereo system.

“Everything’s going to be just fine,” Tempest whispered to herself.

Geren turned the radio down. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“Nothing. I was just thinking about something.”

Geren started snickering and turned the radio back up.

When they pulled up to his office building, Tempest was floored by the fancy fountain out front and the sparkling glass windows of the main tower. “This whole building belongs to the firm?”

“Every square inch of it,” Geren replied, pulling into the parking garage and waving at the attendant. “We’re one of the largest brokerage firms in the country, second only to one in New York.”

“Cool,” Tempest replied, definitely impressed.

Tempest was in awe from the second she stepped into Geren’s office building. Marble floors throughout the first floor, plush carpeting on the tenth floor where his office was located, and brass nameplates on all the office doors.

She almost fell out when she entered his spacious office. His desk and bookcases were ebony wood, and his chairs were all tan leather. There were six computers with flat monitors lined up on a large table on the far left wall.

He had an armoire with a thirty-five-inch television, VCR and DVD player as well as the bomb-ass stereo system. All the equipment was made by the Phoenix Corporation. Tempest wondered how Geren even managed to get any work done in such a plush atmosphere.

“Nice office!” Tempest exclaimed. “Very, very nice!”

“Why, thank you.” Geren walked over and hit the enter button on one of the computers, waking it up from its sleep mode. Numbers started flashing across the screen as he sat down in a high-backed chair to read them. “I won’t be long. Have a seat wherever you like.”

Tempest walked around the office, checking out every nook and cranny. “When you said you were an investment banker, I didn’t realize you had it like this. Sure, you drive a fancy car and wear nice suits, but lots of brothas do that when they’re just big-time perpetrators.”

“I hold my own.” Geren swiveled around in his chair so he could admire her beauty while she admired his office. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I would think you were a gold digger.”

Tempest snapped at him. “And you would be thinking wrong!”