Movin' Up With J.J. Excerpt


“Maybe that’s him,” Jerry said to Alex, nodding to the far corner of the parking lot. The door to a forest green Jaguar opened, and the head and feet of a dark-haired man appeared. Once out of the car, he unfolded himself to an impressive height and moved toward Alex, Jerry, and Walt with a quick and purposeful gait, absorbed in his own thoughts.

“Can’t be.” Alex shook her head. “No temp would drive a Jaguar.”

“Or dress like that,” Walt agreed. The man wore a yellow Polo shirt and perfectly creased khaki trousers. His mahogany leather loafers showed nary a scuff and were the least practical work shoes Alex had ever seen.

As he drew close to the moving truck, the man finally raised his head and stopped short. Alex watched him absorb the red lettering on the side of the truck: Movin’ Up, Let Our Small Business Move Yours and smile just a bit.

“You’re getting an early start.” His voice was so deep it rivaled Lou Rawls’. Alex felt the strange urge to purr deep in her throat, like a lioness.

Jerry stepped forward. “Are you here to help?”

The man looked uncertain, which seemed strange in response to such a simple question.

Alex reached out her hand. “I’m Alex Coulter with Movin’ Up. We’re waiting for a temp this morning.”

The man shook her sweaty hand firmly with his massive, dry one, looking straight into her eyes as if reading her soul. His eyes were an exotic color she couldn’t name—a chocolate brown base with flecks the color of maple leaves in the autumn. Alex liked that they were trained on her. “Chamber, uh, Chambers,” he muttered. “You may call me J.J., and I suppose I’m your man.”


©2008 Kim Sheard