Nervous

She knew she had me. I’d already made a promise. “What time and where?”

Darnetta snickered with delight. “The wedding is Saturday at four, downtown, and I’ll pick you up at three. Cool?”

“Sounds like a winner,” I lied.

“Great!” Darnetta jumped up and headed for the door. “Well, I’m about to go enjoy what’s left of my lunch hour. I can’t believe in this day and time we still have to punch time clocks. That is so primal.”

I couldn’t help but agree. “I know. It doesn’t make sense, but Mr. Wilson is old-fashioned in many ways.”

“No, he’s just plain old. What is he? About a hundred ninety?”

I chuckled. “You better watch yourself. I wouldn’t put hidden cameras in the walls past him.”

Darnetta eyed the walls, taking me seriously.

“You can relax. He’s too cheap to invest in them.”

“Whew, you had me going for a second. Catch you later.”

“Later.”

After she was safely down the hall, I closed my office door, went back to my desk, and retrieved the card from under the desk pad. “Dr. Marcella Spencer, can you really help me?”

I picked up the phone and called to make an appointment.

• • •

When I got home, I noticed a U-Haul truck in the parking lot of the complex and wondered if the vacant apartment below me had finally been rented out. There were some college kids living there but they’d broken the lease and moved to the Georgia Tech campus. Thank goodness, because their loud rock music was raking on my nerves.

I was on the second floor landing, not paying attention to where I was going because I was searching through my purse for some Tylenol to take the second I could grab a cup of water to wash it down, when I bumped right into the backend of a floor model television. I stubbed my toe, the same one I’m always prone to banging against something, and yelled out in pain.

A man appeared in the doorway of 2-D. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to have this thing out in the hallway so long.”

I just stared at him. I tried to say something but I’m not even sure I was actually breathing. He was . . . He was . . .

“Excuse me, Miss. Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I finally managed to say. “I just hit my toe.”

“Well, toes can be the source of much pain,” he said jokingly.

I forced a smile. “True.”

I walked around the television and headed for the stairs leading to the third floor, my floor.

“I’m Mason. Mason Copeland.”

“Moving in?”

“Yes. I just decided to check out Atlanta for a while. I’m originally from D.C.—the Chocolate City.”

“That’s cool. I used to live in Philadelphia when I first graduated from college.” I don’t know why I asked the next question but I did. “Is your wife home? I’d like to meet her.”

“Wife? No, I’m single.” He grinned at me and added, “Single and extremely available and accessible.”

I cleared my throat. “Well, with all the female singles around here, you won’t be for long.”

“Are you one of the female singles around here?”