Authors: Victor McGlothin
Down On My Knees (21 page)
22
Let's Talk About It
G
race spent the remainder of the weekend extremely confusedabout André's father and the strange way he'd seemed to pop up out of thin air after all these years. For the first time since her son was a toddler, Grace felt nervous about everything he did. She paid closer attention to André's metamorphosis into a young man. She remembered the joy she got watching him maneuver his way around the basketballcourt. She replayed each of their conversations over the past month and also noted his introduction to puberty, his flirting with cheerleaders, his increasing male bravado, and his more mature style of carrying himself than she was accustomedto. Grace lost a great deal of sleep over allowing Edward to slip back into André's life after he was already half grown. No matter how many ways she sliced it, her son would soon be facing issues best tackled by a man, but Grace had serious reservations about his father fitting that bill. Regardless, Edward had engineered a smashing comeback,and she'd have to find a way to accept it.
race spent the remainder of the weekend extremely confusedabout André's father and the strange way he'd seemed to pop up out of thin air after all these years. For the first time since her son was a toddler, Grace felt nervous about everything he did. She paid closer attention to André's metamorphosis into a young man. She remembered the joy she got watching him maneuver his way around the basketballcourt. She replayed each of their conversations over the past month and also noted his introduction to puberty, his flirting with cheerleaders, his increasing male bravado, and his more mature style of carrying himself than she was accustomedto. Grace lost a great deal of sleep over allowing Edward to slip back into André's life after he was already half grown. No matter how many ways she sliced it, her son would soon be facing issues best tackled by a man, but Grace had serious reservations about his father fitting that bill. Regardless, Edward had engineered a smashing comeback,and she'd have to find a way to accept it.
Throughout Monday, Grace received e-mails from associates seeking details stemming from the incident at the hotel. Rumors were swirling around, including wild tales of her alleged arrest and attempted assault. She did the best she could to squelch them at every turn, but she had herself to blame. Edward's unfounded remarks and arrogant attitude should have been addressed differently, better, she thought after sending an e-mail to Patrik, the director. Grace explainedthat she was just fine and that it had only been a misunderstandingblown out of proportion. What a mess!
Grace hid in her office for most of the next week, ducking phone calls and doing what she could to improve her frame of mind. Taking a break from her seclusion, she stood in her office doorway and peered out of it. Chandelle was fussing at some poor soul on the phone about her cable bill; AwkwardBob was watering the plants, this time dressed in a lime green Vera Wang jumpsuit; Ms. Pearl was making a great impression by bringing freshly baked goodies every day; and there was not one sign of Pretty Ricky manipulatingfemale employees with his meet-me-in-back-of-my-van routine.
When Marcia happened by, Grace stopped her and decidedit was time they had a chat about nothing in particular. “Marcia, pop in for a minute. Have a seat and take a load off.” As Grace circled her desk, Marcia grew increasingly pensive. This wasn't like her boss to make time for idle chitchat. Because Grace had always been strictly business, it was unnerving to get invited in to roost without any apparent goal to speak of. But Grace didn't realize this when she asked, “Tell me, Marcia, how's it going?”
Marcia placed a handful of files on her lap and followed Grace around the desk with a weary eye. “Uhm, how's what going, Miss Hilliard?”
Grace realized she wasn't any good at office small talk, but she'd already committed herself. “Oh, I don't know. How's life?”
Shuddering at the thought of something bad coming out of an impromptu discussion with senior management, Marciabegan to hyperventilate. “Uhhh. Whe www. Uhhh. If you're going to fire me, just come out with it, because I think it's cruel to beat around the bush and torture me with head games.”
Grace dumped a half-eaten sandwich into the trash can, then she flew around the desk waving the sandwich bag out in front. “Marcia, calm down! Marcia! Marcia! Breathe. Nobody'stalking about firing you.” The nervous assistant held the bag over her mouth and panted until her breathing returnedto normal.
“What? You didn't pull me in here on the chill-tip to let me go?”
“On the chill-tip?” Grace repeated, noting the white girl's slick usage of street talk. “I'm not sure what you thought, but I did honestly ask you to come in so we could just ... visit.”
“Well, I don't know,” Marcia answered with a hint of trepidation. “You've never wanted to just ... visit before, so I figured this was one of those new corporate methods of catching employees off guard and sticking it to them before they had a chance to go postal.”
“I can see that this is very upsetting to you, and perhaps this wasn't a good idea,” Grace surmised correctly. “Let's just pretend that it never happened, and go back to the way it was, when I didn't make time for you.”
“That's something I can live with as long as I'm still employedbecause you've been acting kinda strange since that meltdown you had outside the Grande Hotel.” Marcia coveredher face with her hands after letting it slip that she also knew about Grace's all-out tantrum. “I'm sorry, please don't fire me!”
Grace's face was tight enough to tear. She slammed the door and threw both hands on her hips. “Em, put your hands down,” she ordered as quietly as humanly possible. “Now, tell me where you heard about my ... meltdown.”
“You called me Em, now I know I'm gonna get canned.”
“Not if you tell me what I want to know.” Marcia began to sniffle, but Grace refused to let her cry her way out of the situation.“Be strong, Em. Be strong.”
“I knew coming in here would lead to something bad,” Marcia cried. “I just knew it. If I tell you how I heard about it, I'll have to tell you who I heard it from, too.”
Grace stood over her, about to lose her cool again. “That depends on what you've heard. Out with it.”
Marcia peered up at Grace like a frightened squirrel about to give up her favorite nut. “Okay, but for the record, I'm not a rat. I'm telling you under duress.”
“Duly noted, now spill it!”
“All right, here goes. The other day, I was minding my own business and having lunch at the mall. Then up came Ricardo from the delivery route.”
“Pretty Ricky?” asked Grace.
“Yeah, that's what they call him. So, he wanted to get to know me better, and I was on my lunch break. This led to that, and before I knew it, he was telling me how he overheardthis paralegal talking about you as some lawyer who's tied up in an ugly marriage gone south, child-support money, and your meltdown at a highbrow fund-raiser, which otherwisesounded very nice.” Marcia held her right hand up, cautiouslyblocking her face in the event that Grace had another of those meltdowns she'd heard about.
“Quit that. You don't have to be afraid of me!” Grace yelled. “Relax. I'll work this out like I should have in the beginning.”
Marcia wanted to retreat when Grace's eyes grew dim with resentment. “Miss Hilliard, can I go now?”
“Yeah, we're through here. Thanks for stopping in.”
Marcia bolted for the door with her files in hand. Grace stopped her in midstride. “One more thing! Stay out of the back of Pretty Ricky's van. And if you didn't know, that's nasty.”
Marcia hid her face with the stack of files and cowered behind it. She thought of lying about her encounter with the delivery guy, but knew that Grace had the goods on her. “Yes, ma'am.” Too ashamed to continue the conversation, Marcia whined before leaving, “Is there anything else?”
“Yes, please send gifts to Mr. Allen Foray, he's in the Rolodex, and Mr. Wallace Peters over at John Quinn High. You can call there to get the address. Send something nice from me, but not too personal. And Marcia, I owe you. Thanks.”
“Yes, ma'am,” was all Marcia could say before scurrying off down the hall.
Grace returned to her leather chair, rocking in it slowly and contemplating what to do about this newly acquired bit of information. She wanted to assume Edward had put her business out on Front Street but she couldn't be sure that it wasn't her own bad actions that spearheaded her character assassination. Since it was impossible to rewind the tape with Edward, Grace figured it was best to revisit their discussionabout André.
That is what Edward had approached her about
, she reasoned. That's what she'd grant him, a nice, quiet talk about their son.
That is what Edward had approached her about
, she reasoned. That's what she'd grant him, a nice, quiet talk about their son.
Since Marcia was busy arranging gifts to be mailed out, she had her hands full. Grace didn't know the first thing about tracking down Edward, but she remembered him mentionthat he'd been in town for three years. She decided to run a Yahoo query for his name, just as if he were a prospectiveclient. A quick search proved successful. The first article she opened discussed how Muriel Swenson, the wife of DallasCounty Assistant District Attorney Edward Swenson, filed for legal separation two months before citing irreconcilabledifferences. Grace almost cheered his misfortune, but caught herself. Just because he wasn't man enough for her when she needed him didn't mean he hadn't given his all to make the marriage work with this Muriel person. Besides, that wasn't Grace's issueâstraightening out the situation on her side of the fence was. Before signing off, something told Grace to scroll down further and see what else Edward had been up to, but she didn't. Later on, she'd wished she had.
“Dallas County Courts please,” Grace requested from the directory assistance operator. “Yes, the Assistant District Attorney'soffice. Thanks.” She jotted down the number, then promised herself not to get rattled this time around. “Take a deep breath and keep your chin up.” The phone rang three times before someone answered with a down-home country twang.
“Dallas County Courts, how may I direct ya call?”
“Yes, could you forward me to ADA Edward Swenson's office?” Grace told the woman quickly before changing her mind. “Thank you.” While she waited, she doodled hearts on her steno pad.
“ADA Edward Swenson's office,” answered another voice, warm but more direct than the first. “Hello, this is the AssistantDistrict Attorney's office,” she announced after Grace neglectedto speak up.
“Uh, yes, I'm trying to reach Edward Swenson,” Grace said finally. “Is he in?”
“Miss, is this regarding a pending case?” the gatekeeper asked.
“No, it's of a personal nature.”
“Personal?” A few seconds passed before the gatekeeper asked, with a more aggressive tone, “Who is this, and exactlywhat is this about?”
Grace was at a loss for words. The gatekeeper's warmth had suddenly evaporated altogether. “Excuse me?”
“I asked
who
you were and what you wanted with District Attorney Swenson.”
who
you were and what you wanted with District Attorney Swenson.”
Holding the phone like it was a hot curling iron, Grace took a defensive posture. “Obviously, I'm not familiar with City Hall protocol, but I don't see how who I am makes a bit of difference about whether he's in or not. Is he or isn't he available?” Another stint of silence rolled by before the questioning continued.
“If I'm going to tell Mr. Swenson that he has a call waiting,I'll need your name for the record, won't I?”
“I know one thing. All this is not necessary just to speak with a city official,” Grace snarled. “Maybe I should be takingyour name to report your funky attitude to Mr. Swenson.”
This is harder than trying to talk with the president,
Grace thought,
although I don't know why anyone would want to talk to his sorry butt either.
This is harder than trying to talk with the president,
Grace thought,
although I don't know why anyone would want to talk to his sorry butt either.
“Who should I say is calling, miss?” the gatekeeper proddedagain, with the bad attitude still very much evident.
“You can tell him that Grace Hilliard would like to speak with him, if that's not asking too much.”
“Did you say Hilliard? Grace Hilliard?” the woman repeated.
“That's right.” Grace was feeling herself now. She was also willing to bet that after Edward heard her name, he'd jump through flaming hoops to get at the telephone. Then, Grace heard a familiar sound, a click on the other end as the gatekeeper hung up in her face. “Hey! Hello? Hello?” I know that chick did not just hang up on me! “Marcia!” Grace shouted after hitting Marcia's extension then the intercom button. “Marcia, get me the Dallas County Courts back on the line. I don't know what's going on down there. Buzz me when you have ADA Edward Swenson on the phone.” Grace couldn't sit still while steam came out of her ears. “Some silly receptionist thinks she's going to get away with slammingthe phone down in my face,” she said aloud, seething with animosity. “I ought to take my behind up to the courthouse.Then we'll see how tough she is. Ig'nant chick.”
Marcia buzzed her back within seconds. “Miss Hilliard, he's on line two.”
“Who, Edward?” Grace couldn't believe how quickly Marcia had gotten to him and also how amicably he'd agreed to hold.
“Yes, ADA Swenson's on two,” Marcia confirmed.
“Thanks, I'll take it. Hello, Edward?”
“Grace?” a deep voice asked, with a certain amount of concern behind it.
“Yes, Edward, this is Grace. I didn't mean to bother you during office hours but I felt that we, I uh, needed to apologizefor what happened the other night.”
“This doesn't sound like Grace Hilliard,” he joked.
“Don't be silly Edward,” she countered. “One silly city employee per day is enough to get on my last good nerve. Who was that phone checker, anyway? You know she hung up on me?”
“Well, she takes her job seriously, and says that you were being evasive and wouldn't offer any information.”
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