Excerpt #4 – Sienna

“All right, party people, it’s time to dance!” the DJ announced. The diva that is Diana Ross’s sultry voice floated over the speakers, singing, “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.” I could see Diana’s smile, see her shimmy with all the confidence in the world, telling me to “Go get him, girl!” I didn’t shimmy but instead squared my shoulders and stood.

“Where are you going, sweet cheeks?”

“To go get him.” I stormed away before Keith had the chance to dissuade me or tell me not to embarrass him. The place was huge. Three hundred people jam-packed, and Chris had effortlessly dodged me. “Dammit. Where is he?” I stretched my neck, even stood on my tiptoes. After ten minutes of fruitlessly circling the room, I wanted to give up. Plus, Diana was no longer cheering me on.

Discouraged, I made my way back to my seat when I got a whiff of smoke. Smoke! Chris loves to smoke! Terrible habit, but the man was a chain smoker. He was most likely puffing his poor lungs away outside. Turning on my heels, I rushed to the entrance of the renovated warehouse and turned a sharp right.

My heart revved again when I found him leaning against the brick wall near a silver cigarette bin. Gotcha!

“Christopher,” I said on a sigh. I tried to calm my heavy breathing, still out of breath from speed walking. Grabbing my arms, I attempted to rub away the cold. My strapless black dress was not appropriate for winter weather, even in Georgia.

“Sienna.” He dragged in a long puff of smoke and then exhaled. A thick white cloud billowed between us. Waving my hands, I stepped back and coughed. Probably just as he wanted, to create a divide between us. I still didn’t understand what his damn problem was with me. My recently manicured nails dug into my palms.

 “Why have you been avoiding me, Christopher?” My voice was sharp and imperious, like a teacher berating a student.

 “I don’t want to talk to you.”

I stepped closer, so close if he breathed deeply his chest would touch mine. It wasn’t appropriate to get in a man’s personal space, but I had to know. “Why don’t you like me?

He snapped his head back, narrowed his blue-gold eyes. The flash of blue in his eyes showed his surprise. Perhaps he was surprised by my audacity. But if he really knew me, he’d know I could be bold when needed.

The blues in his eyes gave way to gold, reflecting twin pools of anger. “I don’t dislike you. I feel sorry for you.” He took a step back and smoked away from me.

Sorry for me? Embarrassment and pain seeped down to the hard concrete lot. Why feel sorry for me? I had a damn good life, thank you very much. A fulfilling career, a wonderful family, a great guy, and the best friends in the entire effing world. A flame ignited in my stomach. Each puff he carelessly smoked stoked the fire in my belly. “Why?” I bit off, crossing my arms so tightly it pushed up my breasts.

His eyes dipped to my chest. He swallowed. “You’re the living and breathing example of Little Miss Sunshine. You’re so determined to block out the bad, you don’t see what’s going on around you.” He stubbed his cigarette and tossed it in the bin. “You think everything is perfect and wonderful and lovely.” He mimicked my voice, making me sound like a silly cartoon character.

“I don’t think everything is perfect and wonderful and . . . and whatever the hell else you said.” I waved at him.

“Lovely,” he sarcastically supplied.

“I don’t. I’m a second-generation immigrant. My parents both came from humble beginnings, yet they were able to provide for me and my seven siblings. We were rich in love but not much else. If I wanted something that wasn’t a necessity, I worked my ass off,” I growled. “Sienna—”

“No. Be quiet and listen.” I jammed my finger just above his rib cage, and my finger nearly broke against his granite chest. “Now, where was I?”

 “You worked your ass off.” This time the sarcasm was gone, and his already deep voice had gone deeper. The disdain had left his eyes, replaced by something else I was too worked up to analyze. Whatever it was had siphoned away the red-hot anger.

“Yes, I did. I graduated number one in my law school class. And you know what I d-do now?” My teeth were chattering. I needed to wrap this up pronto before I became a Popsicle.

He shrugged out of his black tuxedo jacket and flapped it around my shoulders like a cape. “You’re a public defender for the city of Atlanta.” He stepped closer to me, or had I stepped closer? “D-damn right. Which means I don’t get to ch-choose my clients. Some are guilty, some are innocent, but all deserve a fair trial. Someone to look them in the eyes and let them know that they aren’t the sum of their mistakes. That they are worth something. Sometimes I’m their last hope, and yes, I’m their Little Miss Sunshine. I do it for them.” I jerked my thumb back, pointing to no one in particular, and then pointed to my chest. “I also do it for me. Because if I let the dark bleed through, I won’t be any good to my clients or to the community. I’ll be just another shitty lawyer shuffling through cases, treating my clients like a number. Just another shitty person who doesn’t care about the welfare of my fellow man.”

This time, he stepped closer. I was pretty sure it wasn’t me. “You want world peace, Miss America. It’s admirable, but I’m not the man for the job.” Despite his asshole response, I laughed. “I don’t need you to teach me world peace, Chris. I want you to teach me how to win. I want to help Keith when—”

 “I’m not convinced Keith is the right man for you.” His voice was gruff and as bitter as the cold weather. He took a deep breath. “I mean . . . I don’t think Keith is going to be the man to make major changes for the community. He did okay in his first term, but he hasn’t kept most of the promises he made.”