Destination D (17 page)

Near Miss

A
s Dee walked through the revolving door, a man bumped into her, causing her packages to fall to the floor.

“Here, let me help you with those,” a nearby man said as he raced over to help. His voice was as smooth as brass and caught Dee's attention right away. She looked up into the bluest eyes she'd ever seen.

“Thanks, I guess chivalry is
not
gone.”

“Not for me, anyway. Did you see that guy? He didn't even look up,” he said as he bent down to retrieve the books from the floor.

“I don't think he even realized he bumped into me. He was pretty preoccupied with his conversation.”

“I don't know how someone could miss bumping into you,” the stranger said admiringly, looking at Dee's flawless skin. He looked at her as though she was a fine work of art and was immediately taken in by her natural beauty. Her straight hair flowed around her shoulders, giving her a regal aura.

“I don't mean to be nosy, but where'd you get these books?”

“At this little bookstore not too far away from here, actually. They sell all types of old books,” she said, finding herself lured in by his powerful gaze. His skin was lightly tanned, highlighting his straight, russet brown hair. He was every bit of a blue-eyed George Clooney look-alike, and Dee loved her some Clooney.

“These are some interesting topics,” he said, perusing through the titles before placing them back in her bag.
“Osteopathic Medicine in the 1800's, Naturopathic Medicine, 1900's.
If I'm not being too presumptuous, are you in the medical field?”

Dee looked down at the books. She'd bought them for Sedrick. Even before Sed became a doctor, he loved to read about anything that had to do with medicine, especially books dating back to the 1800's. The hold this stranger's eyes had on her allowed her to come up with only one answer.

“Yes. I'm a medical student at Morehouse Medical School in Atlanta.”

“Morehouse, yes, I'm very familiar with Atlanta. I have a client there. We just did some PR for him at his hospital. So, what are you doing in San Diego?”

“Oh, I'm here attending some workshops in pediatrics, and we had a little break in our schedule so I did a little shopping,” Dee sounded so convincing that she almost believed it herself.

“I see. If you don't mind, I'd really like to talk with you again.”

“That's funny. I was thinking the same thing.”

“Really? How long will you be in town?”

“This is the last day for the workshops, so I'll be leaving tomorrow afternoon.”

“That's too bad.”

“Oh. And why's that bad?”

“I was hoping we could hang out a bit. How about dinner tonight? Unless, of course, you already have plans.”

Only with my crew.
“No, I was going to do some studying and order up room service.”

“Okay, then, let me give you my card. Here is the hotel where I'm staying,” he said as he scribbled his information on the back. He immediately stopped writing on his card. “I can't believe this!”

“What?”

“We didn't even introduce ourselves.”

Dee laughed. “Well, I'm Debra Mitchell. You can call me Deb,” she responded.

“And I'm Steven Cushman. And you can call me Steve, or Steven,” he joked. “Why don't we meet here in the lobby this evening at 7:00? Just give me a call if anything changes. If not, I'll see you down here tonight.”

“All right, thank you,” she said, taking the card from him. He stared at her one more time, still holding onto the card and gently squeezed her hand. “Well, I'm here on business and I see some of my cohorts signaling for me to get back into the luncheon,” he said, nodding at three white businessmen waving. He finally let go of her hand and walked back toward the group. “Looking forward to seeing you later.”

Dee stared at the card and wondered what she had just gotten herself into. She couldn't understand why her lies flowed so smoothly. It was one thing to be an attorney; she had that down pat because of her background. But now she had to pull off being in medical school, too. Maybe listening to all of Sedrick's stories about his patients would finally pay off. At least she hoped so.

Turnaround

A
manda walked slowly through the double doors of Sterling, Mathis, and Silverman. All of the familiar faces welcomed her, anticipating her homecoming.

“Well, Miss Amanda, I sure am glad to see you. So, are you back for good?” Carol Ann asked as she leaned in toward her.

“No, I'm here to meet with Mr. McKesson and Mr. Sterdivent.” Carol Ann raised her eyebrow as if to say,
What is the big meeting about? And why didn't I know about it?
“Have a seat and I'll tell them you're here.” She strutted back behind her desk to buzz them. “Mr. McKesson, Amanda is here, sir.”

“Good! Send her on back.”

She stood again and walked back toward Amanda. “Well, you heard him. You know the way,” she said pleasantly, extending her arms toward the corridor.

Sounds of papers shuffling and the clerical staff buzzing made the firm such a vital place. Amanda remembered how much she used to enjoy the energy that filled the firm.

She stood in the entryway and softly tapped on Pete's wide open door. Pete looked up and his eyes greeted her cordially. “Hey, Amanda. Thanks for coming in,” he said, as he stood to shake her hand, gesturing for her to take a seat.

“Hello, Amanda, it's good to see you,” Bill McKesson said, gently placing both hands on top of hers and shaking them warmly.

The room was filled with an inexplicable positive energy she couldn't ignore. She had a hard time digesting the fact that they felt she was important enough for them to
call her.
And, based on the sound of Pete's voice from previous conversations, they were anxious to get her back.

Pete sat back in his chair and folded his hands as if he were contemplating his next sentence. “Amanda, as I mentioned, we called you in here to discuss the reason you left us so abruptly, and without the proper two-week notice.”

“Yes, we can't afford for our employees to leave the firm all of a sudden and never know why,” Bill chimed in, almost as if they had been rehearsing each other's lines.

Amanda thought pensively about their questions before she spoke. She fidgeted with the string on the sleeve of her sweater and exhaled as she made eye contact with them both.

“I've had some personal matters that I've been neglecting, and my job was interfering with them,” she said, trying to sound convincing.

“So you couldn't take vacation time to be off ?” Pete interjected.

Bill scratched the side of his toupee. “You must have several weeks built up because I can't remember when you
weren't
in the office.”

Amanda looked down at the floor. She knew they knew she was lying. Should she tell them the truth? That one of the only black females, a soon-to-be partner and former friend was an overbearing, insensitive, callous-hearted bitch of a person? She thought about all of the long hours of labor she'd spent with Pam. And suddenly Melvin's voice bolted through her head like a freight train. Why should she allow Pam to intimidate her to quit something she loved? Maybe it was time for her to tell Pete and Bill about their past and what type of demon they had really hired. If nothing else, perhaps it would help them be on the lookout for the next poor victim who had to work underneath Pam's vise-like grip.

“You're both right,” she said feeling a little more confident. The string on her sweater had gotten longer. She twirled it until she snapped it out from underneath her sleeve and slowly began to speak. “I've felt like my back was up against the wall. It felt as if there was a tight grip around my throat, and I was being squeezed harder and harder until finally I had to let go. I had no other choice. I couldn't breathe.”

Bill and Pete looked troubled. Bill spoke first. “The grip you are speaking of—was it the workload?”

“Or someone?” Pete interrupted.

Amanda paused, thinking about the words that were about to come from her lips. Yes, she would speak the truth. After all, she had nothing to lose. “It was
someone
.” Amanda suddenly felt a burst of relief erupting from so many years of holding those words inside.

“Can you tell us who this
someone
is?” Bill asked in a concerned tone. “We don't want this person to think they can continue to taunt people this way. This firm was built on integrity and if we can't treat our own right, then God help us when we expect the system to do
us
justice.”

Amanda slowly filled her lungs with air and then released it. Her words were deliberate. “Pam. Madison.”

Bill and Pete looked at each other and nodded as if they had known the name before she spoke it. She proceeded to tell them everything about her relationship with Pam and how Pam had treated her.

“Thank you, Amanda. This information you have given us is very serious. We will investigate this matter. As you know, Pam is one of the best attorneys we have in this firm,” Bill said, looking at her pensively. “I had no idea that you and Pam were classmates. This is so uncanny.”

“I realize that, sir, and that is why I didn't feel comfortable telling you the truth when I quit.”

“But we're glad you did,” Pete chimed in as he and Bill nodded in agreement.

“Amanda, we're going to work diligently in our efforts to get this resolved. And when we do, would you consider coming back to work?”

“Yes. Yes, I would. Thank you.” Amanda was caught off guard by his question. She spoke before she could think about what he was asking.

“Good, then. We'll be in touch.”

They both rose from their chairs in unison. “Thank you for stopping by Amanda,” Bill said.

“Yes, it was good to see you,” said Pete.

Bill opened the door and walked out with her to the elevator. “How's Tracey doing?”

“She's fine. She's headed off to school in a few weeks, so I'm getting ready for one less space at the dinner table.”

“I know how that is. When our last one left for college, my wife and I didn't know if we should cry or celebrate,” Bill laughed. “Here's your elevator. You'll be hearing from us in a few days. But in the meantime, enjoy the extra plate on the table while you still can. No matter how old they get, they always manage to come back to it.”

Amanda laughed as she stepped into the elevator. “Thank you, sir. Goodbye.”

Special Meal

D
ee's flight arrived at LaGuardia Airport right on time at 2:03 p.m. Steve, her latest boyfriend victim, had asked her if she could spend some time with him in New York while she had a break between her
medical
classes. And just as Steve had promised, a blue Lincoln Town Car was there to pick her up. The driver was holding a sign that said “Dr. Debra Mitchell.”

“Good afternoon, Dr. Mitchell. Welcome to New York. I'm Charles,” a portly, distinguished-looking man remarked as he took her luggage and placed it in the trunk. He was wearing dark blue trousers, a stark white shirt with a red tie, and a matching single-breasted jacket. His attire reminded her of a pilot without the cap and wings.

“Doctor?”
Oh,
yes…
I almost forgot.
“Why, thank you,” she said, shaking his hand. “But I'm not a doctor yet. I'm still in medical school. I take the boards in a few months. And then I'll be Dr. Mitchell.” She smiled. Dee watched his hands open the car door for her and thought he had the most neatly manicured nails for someone with such stubby fingers. She got in the car and slid into the supple blue leather of the backseat.

Charles smiled at her through his rearview mirror. “Mr. Cushman asked that I take you directly to his office. He was not able to get off as planned to meet you, but he said that he would make up for that inconvenience later.”

“That's fine.” Dee was preoccupied with the sight of all the cars that were starting to fill up the freeway. She thought about how she had cleverly maneuvered her way into an all-expense paid trip to New York thanks to the PR guru Steve Cushman. Since they'd met that afternoon in San Diego three months ago, their relationship had been an escapade that seemed to continue on autopilot. Her mind reeled back to their first meeting in her hotel lobby and their unforgettable first date. And today she was in New York, still seeing him under false pretenses.

Dee remembered her first date in San Diego with Steve as if it were yesterday. She felt a tinge of guilt as she reflected back in time.

She had already manipulated the first part of the evening in her head as she removed a newly purchased cell phone from her shopping bag. She carefully took the cell phone out of its packaging and programmed the number on speed dial into her old cell phone.

“Just a little added protection, Mr. Cushman,” she said, as she discreetly clipped the new phone underneath her jacket. She glanced once more in the full-length mirror and was glad she'd decided to pack her cream-colored pants and matching lace blouse. She wore an elegant single strand of pearl and diamond studded earrings with a small pearl at her lobe. She unpacked a small matching handbag and a pair of cream-colored mules. Feeling well dressed for just about anything in California, she headed out the door and into the elevator.

“Well, he-e-el-lo!” Steve said as the elevator door opened. Then he handed her a bouquet of white roses. He looked quite dapper and comfortable in his casual crew neck shirt and black jeans that fit his derriere quite nicely. His sweater was a nice complement to his beckoning azure eyes. Dee was elated by his thoughtfulness as she took the flowers and enjoyed the aroma of each one.

“The flowers match your outfit perfectly,” he said, impressed with himself at the coincidence.

“Yes, they do. You PR people don't have hidden cameras placed in the rooms, do you?”

“No, but I like the thought.” Steve put his arm around her waist and escorted her to the concierge, who stood at attention like the Royal Guard in England.

“Yes, sir. May I help you?”

“Can we get a vase for these flowers? We're having dinner this evening in the hotel restaurant. We'll be back to pick them up later this evening.”

“I'd be delighted, sir. Would you like for us to just deliver them back to the room?” he asked moving his eyes toward Dee.

“Oh, yes. That is very nice of you. Is it possible to get them wrapped again so I can take them back on the plane with me?”

Steve slipped him a fifty-dollar bill and winked. “Of course,” the concierge agreed. “Ma'am what's your room number?”

“675. Thank you.”

“You are very welcome. Enjoy your dinner,” he said as he placed the crisp new bill in his uniform vest.

Steve opened the double doors for Dee to walk into the restaurant, where the maitre d' greeted them.

“Good evening, Mr. Cushman.”

“Hello, Shelly. This is my friend Debra.”

Shelly shook her hand and turned to smile at Steve. “Nice meeting you, Debra. We have your table waiting for you, Mr. Cushman.”

“Thank you.”

Dee felt like a celebrity walking the red carpet. All eyes focused on them, and it was obvious Steve knew many of the people who nodded and smiled at him as they made their way over to a secluded corner table overlooking the ocean.

“So, Mr. Cushman, are you some type of VIP? I don't know many people who walk into a restaurant and get a private table while the whole room is watching.”

Steve grinned. “Are you sure it's
me
they're watching and not you?” he said, raising his eyes at her alluringly. His eyes were so glued on her that she felt as if he were trying to put her into a cataleptic state.

Dee winked. “Well, you know, I hadn't thought about that. It probably
is
me,” she teased back as the waitress came over and filled their water glasses.

“Would you and your guest like to hear about our specials this evening, Mr. Cushman?”

“I'll pass and have my usual, but Debra would probably like to hear them. Right?”

“But of course,” Dee said, nodding for the waitress to begin her descriptions.

“Tonight we have a delicious salmon almandine, fresh asparagus, and delectable new potatoes. Or we have a succulent duck served with a vegetable medley and creamed potatoes.”

“Mmmm, they both sound delicious! What does Mr. Cushman usually get?” she asked, eyeing Steve.

“I'm a lobster man. And, believe me, it's the biggest and tastiest you've ever seen on this side of the ocean.”

“Well, that's what I'm having, then,” Dee affirmed as she handed the waitress the menu.

“Okay, then, two Maine lobsters coming right up,” the waitress said.

Dee looked out of the window at the vast body of water massaging the sandy shore. The moon had just touched down, its light serving as a backdrop against the Pacific Ocean's turquoise canvas.

“The view is breathtaking,” Dee said as she kept her eyes focused out the window.

“Do you want to walk out there a little later and get a closer glance?”

“That would be nice. I think I'd like that.”

He smiled and rubbed her hand gently. “You know, Debra, I like your spirit. You seem like a very intriguing woman.”

“Not as intriguing as you, I'm sure,” Dee teased as she gazed around the room at his entourage of associates.

Steve squeezed her hand, then brought it up to his lips and kissed it tenderly. His flirtation was subtle, but Dee felt his fiery heat through her body as he gently squeezed her fingers and stroked each one separately.

“I travel quite a bit to California. We have quite a few clients across the country, but I find myself in San Diego more often.”

“Well, that makes sense.” She watched his hands move from hers to the inside of his jacket pocket. His hand fumbled around until he pulled out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes. He took one out and prepared to light it.

“Oh, I'm sorry, Debra. Do you mind?”

Dee looked at him with astonishment and revulsion. “I'm afraid I do.”

Steve immediately put the cigarette back in the box and pushed it over to the far end of the table. “Oh, I
am
really sorry. I need to give up this nasty habit anyway,” he laughed. “And of course you're becoming a doctor. I can see how that would be quite a contradiction and insult to your field if you did
not
mind me smoking.”

“Yes, it would,” Dee said quietly, momentarily forgetting that she was sitting there with him under false pretenses.

“So, that brings me to the obvious question. What made you go into medicine?”

There it was. The $64,000 question.
Okay, Dee what made you decide to go into medicine? You haven't thought that quite far yet, now, have you?
As she thought about her answer, she turned to look out the window that faced the hotel lobby. Two members from her crew were getting off the escalator. She pried her purse open carefully, just wide enough to press the automatic program on her cell phone. And just as she had planned, her other cell phone started buzzing.

“I'm sorry,” she said, looking at the phone's screen.

“Is everything all right?”

“I'm so embarrassed, but it looks like I have to return this call.”

“Okay, I'll tell the waitress to hold your food until you get back so it won't get cold.”

“Thank you,” she said as she walked briskly out of the restaurant and caught up with her crew, Shaun and Lorraine, before they entered the restaurant.

“Hey, Dee. Wow, you look stunning. Where are you off to?” Lorraine asked.

“Thanks. I was meeting a friend in the restaurant, but the service is so slow. I was just coming out to call my girlfriend and tell her not to even bother coming here. We're going to find someplace else to eat.”

“Really?” Shaun said, surprised as she looked at Lorraine. “I heard their service was the best in town.”

“I'm sure that it usually is, but they have a new chef in training and things got unusually behind,” Dee insisted.

Lorraine glanced at her watch. “Well, I'm glad you told us. We were just about to go in there and grab what we thought would be a quick bite. But we still have time to walk over to that little café down the block.”

“The movie doesn't start for another hour, so we should be okay,” Shaun interjected. “Glad we ran into you, Dee. I hope you catch your girlfriend in time.”

“Thanks. I'm sure I will. She's never on time anyway,” Dee laughed. She took out her cell phone and pretended to dial the number. She waited until Shaun and Lorraine were clearly out of sight before returning to the restaurant where a lobster feast was awaiting her.

“I saw you walking back, so I told the waitress to go ahead and bring it out. Doesn't it look
too good
to eat?”

“No,” Dee laughed as she dug in with her fork. She cut a small morsel and chewed.

Steve laughed. “You are merciless!”

“And hungry!” Dee said as she placed another portion in her mouth.

“Bon Appetit
!”

“Yes, it is,” Dee said, delving into her baked potatoes and carefully wiping her mouth with her linen napkin. She looked up and Steve was smiling at her adoringly.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Steve said, shaking his head in delight as he continued to chew. He was enjoying watching her enjoy her food. He loved women who were not caught up in getting small portions because they were watching their figure. Debra had a gorgeous figure, and
he
could watch it all night.

“Did you take care of that call?”

“Uh huh,” she said, nodding between swallows. “Where were we before I had to leave?”

“I was asking you about how you decided to—”

“Oh, yeah, get into medicine.” Her brief encounter with her crew had given her some buying time to think about that question. “I've got a really good friend who kind of talked me into it when we were in undergrad. I took a few biology courses and have always been pretty good with math and science. I did some summer internships in the medical field when I was in college, and I just liked the field and wanted to pursue it.”
Now, that was pretty smooth girl, if I have to say so, myself!

“Where'd you go for undergrad?”

“Spelman.”

“Ahhh…” Steve nodded approvingly. “Excellent school.”

Dee smiled. “So what about you? Did you major in public relations when you were in college?”

“No, ironically I started off as a premed-slash-biology major also. And then I got really bored with college altogether. I started working part-time in the summer with my dad's friend who had an event planning company. I really enjoyed the variety and mix of putting on events and talking to people. When I returned back to school in the fall, I would assist with putting campus parties together. I wrote a few articles for the campus paper and then eventually moved up to writing press releases for the local city paper and then BOOM! Just like that, before I knew it, I dropped out of Yale my junior year and took a chance on starting my own company. Now, 15 years later, I'm a PR icon,” he chuckled, as he squeezed some lemon onto his lobster.

Only a white boy could pull that off with no degree,
Dee thought, reflecting on how she was sitting across from him with
two
degrees, and a career path that was leading nowhere fast!

“That's a great story,” Dee said, barely above a whisper.