Authors: Victor McGlothin
Down On My Knees (3 page)
“Linda, could you hook him up with your stylist, then maybe he can get back to his job and get us something to eat?” Shelia recommended hastily. The waiter rolled his neck in opposition to her crass comment, smacked his lips again, then scribbled down their orders before walking away. “And your hands better be clean,” Shelia yelled after him.
“What's wrong, Grace?” Linda asked, as she studied her friend's sour expression. “Is the thought of that brotha gettingwith another brotha bothering you?”
“Please, you know that's not my type of hype regardless,” Grace answered, still obviously perturbed about something. “No, I've come to grips with men who don't want to be men, who'd rather be with men, and who'd give anything to be women. No matter how hard you try, there's no way to make sense out of nonsense.”
“Okay, then, what's got you looking like you just lost your good thing?” Shelia prodded, also really wanting to know.
After Grace deliberated awhile, she cleared her throat and cast a labored smile that didn't fool either of the other women. “I went to a beautiful wedding yesterday, you know, Chandelle from the office? I agreed to serve as a maid of honor, put her makeup together. The thanks I got was her hittingme with a statement that left a mark.” Grace glanced down at the table, not certain how her discussion with a younger woman would play out in present company. “It was innocent enough, but it stung a little when Chandelle asked me if I had ever thought about finding someone to get seriouswith, married-serious with,” she added for clarification. “Actually I hadn't, but it doesn't seem that far-fetched now that I've actually let the idea play around in my head.”
“Shoot, I've let it move furniture into mine,” Linda sighed. Shelia wanted to add her two cents but had nothing positive to offer so she kept quiet, for now. She had been thoroughly jaded against married-serious relationships after experiencing a terrible heartbreak several years ago.
“I don't believe it,” Linda offered, clasping her hands togetherunderneath her chin. “Chandelle opened your eyes, and ripped off your superwoman cape at the same time?” Linda had known Grace for years and had never once heard her express love or pain about a man she'd spent time with. This was new and uncharted territory.
“It would seem so, girl.” Grace's gaze drifted off into space like that sneaky idea Chandelle planted was more than just an idea. “Maybe it was a good thing, me getting a wake-upcall to start thinking about long-term situations. It put a jacked-up spell on me all right, and I want my cape back.”
“There's something to be said for sharing a black woman's woes,” Shelia contributed finally. “I was starting to think that you weren't human, Grace. And I hope you don't take this wrong, but I'm kinda glad you've become one of us.” Shelia smiled awkwardly for no particular reason. “If you keep moving,that spell won't get the chance to put a hold on you.”
“What's that?” questioned Grace, when she noticed the vulnerable expression hanging on Shelia's face.
“Plight of the black woman. More of us are single than married, with more heartbreaks than dreams.”
Linda's eyes sparkled as she sought to climb out of the funk encompassing their intimate circle. “But Grace's blues aren't exactly like ours, Shelia. See, Grace already has the big house, the fancy car, and the movie-star clothes. She just needs to decide which of her flextimers gets to share all of that with her.” There was a hint of jealously in Linda's tone, although she didn't mean any harm to Grace. Her loneliness just happened to get in the way while she assessedthe situation. As far as she could see, a man would have to be crazy not to fall all over himself if Grace wanted him to. And if she offered forever as an option, he'd certainlyvie for the platinum package with all the trimmings. Linda had no idea how wrong she was about the men in Grace's life, or the way they'd respond to exercising long-termoptions on love.
If it wasn't for Shelia's easygoing attitude, their Sunday brunch would have been hijacked. “Well, I know one thing, Linda. I'm willing to go out of my way to get Grace's cape back 'cause y'all done killed my groove. No, don't try to cheer me up. My groove don't even work no mo'. It just up and quit.”
When Grace laughed out loud, Linda followed suit. “Grace, hurry up and handle your business, find that super-cape, and I'll get my groove back. That's right. Me and Shelia.”
When the waiter returned with their entrées, Shelia heckledhim. “What you come back for? You're the competition. Go on now, before you steal another black woman's man. Go on! Git!”
4
All That Man!
A
bustling herd of storm clouds rolled past the large plate-glasswindows of Grace's corner office at Pinnacle Marketing.Monday mornings and gray skies seemed to go together like lyrics of a sad song played over a slow musical beat. Trying not to think about the conversation she'd had with Shelia and Linda, Grace felt better about getting her cape back. The cape was her force field shielding her from the various agonies caused by serious relationships with men. By not getting too close, she wouldn't get exposed, hurt, or heartbroken. The cape was pliable, impenetrable, and machinewashable. The cape came fully accessorized and coordinatedperfectly with any ensemble. The drawback was how it also covered Grace's eyes to reality like a lead veil. She dealt with the misconception that her cape had been the solution,when in actuality it kept her wrapped in a cocoon of false security, daring her to consider the possibilities outside of it. The worst thing that could have happened to Grace was getting her cape back.
bustling herd of storm clouds rolled past the large plate-glasswindows of Grace's corner office at Pinnacle Marketing.Monday mornings and gray skies seemed to go together like lyrics of a sad song played over a slow musical beat. Trying not to think about the conversation she'd had with Shelia and Linda, Grace felt better about getting her cape back. The cape was her force field shielding her from the various agonies caused by serious relationships with men. By not getting too close, she wouldn't get exposed, hurt, or heartbroken. The cape was pliable, impenetrable, and machinewashable. The cape came fully accessorized and coordinatedperfectly with any ensemble. The drawback was how it also covered Grace's eyes to reality like a lead veil. She dealt with the misconception that her cape had been the solution,when in actuality it kept her wrapped in a cocoon of false security, daring her to consider the possibilities outside of it. The worst thing that could have happened to Grace was getting her cape back.
Grace was thumbing through a fashion magazine when Marcia, her trusty executive assistant, poked her head in. “Miss Hilliard, aren't you meeting with All-Jams to oversee their TV spot?”
Confused by the question, Grace shook the cobwebs from her mind. She laid the magazine on her broad mahogany desk and then glanced at her expensive Movado timepiece. “Yes, but that's not until next week. Is there something wrong with Allen Foray's schedule?”
The short brunette who never wore makeup under any circumstances flashed the same confused look back at her boss. “No, there's no problem with Mr. Foray. He showed up at the shoot an hour ago, right on schedule.” Marcia watched Grace's mind warm up to the thought of missing out on a very important matter for her biggest account.
Grace panicked. “They're not shooting the spot on the twenty-second?”
“I'm afraid not,” Marcia informed her reluctantly.
“They're filming my million-dollar commercial today?”
“I'm afraid so.”
“I have to get over there before something gets broken that I can't fix.”
After the elevator doors opened in the underground parkinggarage, Grace found her car and climbed in. She called ahead to the studio, had the director paged, then issued an immediate order to stop filming. Much to her chagrin, the director was quick to complain how his time had already been wasted trying to convince the superstar basketball player that his Captain Dream Creams costume didn't make him look like a Village People reject. Grace informed him that she would be there momentarily. Then she prayed all the way up the tollway that the professional basketball icon wouldn't remind her of the waiter from yesterday's outing at Ursula's. There'd be no faking it if he did.
“Miss Hilliard! Miss Hilliard!” shouted an oversensitive foreign director wearing faded black jeans and a thirty-dollar department store T-shirt. “Miss Hilliard, this Allen Foray is impossible to work with. He tells me to go away for street credit. I can not shop for something I do not understand where to buy.” Patrik was ultraprofessional, Italian, and came highly recommended. The lofty recommendation also included severalreservations outlining his inability to work with amateurs.Rich amateurs were out of the question because they were not known to be readily accepting of his constructive criticisms.
“Patrik! Patrik! Slow down,” Grace demanded with a firm tone. “I told you I'd handle it, and I will. Take a deep breath, have a latté, and then get your crew ready. I'll be out in a jiff with the hundred-million-dollar man.” She leaned in closer to the director, who was still fuming. “I know where to whip up some street credit and how to serve it up too.” She left Patrik standing in the middle of the hall pulling his hair out.
“I'm out!” the six-foot eight-inch athlete barked from the comforts of a plush mole-hair love seat. His publicist was in full agreement when Grace walked into his private dressing room unannounced. She'd seen photos of Allen Foray in magazines. She'd watched him score fifty points against the Lakers, too. But, the reason she'd selected him for the All-Jamsco-op with Dream Creams' national marketing campaignhad everything to do with her son André believing that Allen was the end-all, be-all in basketball.
“Excuse me,” the young female yuppie type shrieked as she marched in Grace's direction. “This is a private room, and Allen Foray doesn't want to be disturbed.” The publicist, attired in a flattering Aztec print Missoni belted dress, couldn't have been out of college more than two weeks. Grace considered complimenting her taste but didn't have the time to waste gratifying words on her.
Grace stopped the willowy blonde in midstride. “Miss, you might want to get somewhere, sit down, and be still!” Now that Grace had captured the star's attention, she lit in and didn't let up until she had mastered the situation, demanded his respect and exacted a change of heart. “Allen Foray, my name is Grace Hilliard. That may not mean anythingto you yet, but suggesting that you're going to walk out on my production is unacceptable.” When Allen stood up, he towered over Grace but underestimated her range. “Oh, you think by stretching your legs, I'm supposed to let you breach a contract after you've cashed my check. Oh yes, I've confirmedit. My money belongs to you, and for the remainder of this campaign your time belongs to me.” The publicist was stunned but smart enough to do as she was told while taking it all in.
“Who is she supposed to be?” the arrogant athlete asked, expecting his publicist to jump in and save him.
“Grace Hilliard,” the publicist reminded him, so that he wouldn't forget again.
“Grace. Look. I've done all kinds of commercials, from cars to cattle, but I'm not putting on that Captain Cream Puff costume. I've got a rep, and I'm not strapping on some tricked-out Batman tights.”
“You'll do exactly as I say,” Grace argued, “because you're a man of your word, my son's hardwood hero, and I know you don't want to be sued by the number-one snack company in the southwest. Otherwise, you will be required to return the half-million-dollar advance. You will also be dragged through the courts and branded as a thief.”
“Thief?” Allen questioned in disbelief.
“That's right, Mr. Foray, so you can close your mouth. Let me tell you something serious. If you disappoint me, I'll have no other course of action but to forbid my son from idolizing the egotistical, money-grubbing, simpleminded jerk that he's convinced you're not.”
“What? Simpleminded?” he objected.
“Furthermore, it might be tolerated when you come up short on the basketball court, but there is one thing I will not stand for and that's another black man being less than what his mother intended, a stand-up and stand-by-your-word role model she could be proud of,” Grace huffed. Without awaitinga response, she called Patrik on her cell phone. “Mr. Foray will be ready in twenty minutes.” After ending the call, Grace stared up at Allen in his splendidly tailored Hugo Boss suit and size-fifteen leather Gucci lace-ups. “Well what are you waiting for, lotion?” Grace snapped curtly.
Wide eyed and intrigued, Allen began pacing back and forth while contemplating this scary woman's threats. “Okay, hold on!” he grunted. “You might be used to gettingyour way wherever you come from, but let's not forgetwho the star is around here.”
Grace crossed her arms defiantly and then pursed her lips before replying to Allen's idea of swaggering while on her turf. “I'll concede that if you keep in mind who is willing and able to haul
the star
into a long and drawn out mud bath in the press,” she growled smartly.
the star
into a long and drawn out mud bath in the press,” she growled smartly.
Allen grimaced, groping for a witty comeback that eluded him. “All right, Grace, I'll admit you got me with the things you said about my mother, and I know you're going off on me because that's what they sent you in here to do. I can see how serious you're taking this, and I'm not trying to let nobody down, but come on now, I can't do the tights.” Allen was searching desperately for a way out, or at least a way to save face.
“First thing, there is no
they
, I'm it. And on second thought, about the tights, you don't have to wear them,” Grace said, compromising to meet Allen halfway. “Wardrobe!” she summoned.“We're burning daylight!” Before Allen or the publicistknew what was going on, two seamstresses appeared with a selection of basketball shorts to complete the costume.Grace continued, “Please find something that Mr. Foray agrees to, and put five identical pieces together. We're a go in fifteen minutes.” Grace exited the dressing room after walking on water, leading a stubborn horse to it, and subsequently getting him to lap it up.
they
, I'm it. And on second thought, about the tights, you don't have to wear them,” Grace said, compromising to meet Allen halfway. “Wardrobe!” she summoned.“We're burning daylight!” Before Allen or the publicistknew what was going on, two seamstresses appeared with a selection of basketball shorts to complete the costume.Grace continued, “Please find something that Mr. Foray agrees to, and put five identical pieces together. We're a go in fifteen minutes.” Grace exited the dressing room after walking on water, leading a stubborn horse to it, and subsequently getting him to lap it up.
“Why do they always have to take the âmake your mama proud' route?” Allen remarked just above a whisper as he slid out of his dress slacks. Suddenly, a warm smile creased his lips. “Grace Hilliard, huh? She's different. I'll give her that.” After looking at his rusty knees, his frown chased that smile away. “And she was right, I do need some lotion.”
Patrik was excited once the taping concluded. He had had no problems getting Allen to rehearse his lines, or shoot additionalfour-second promos and voice-overs for upcoming radio drops. Working with Allen Foray was an enjoyable experience,and working for Grace Hilliard was a pleasure. “Thank you, Miss Hilliard,” Patrik beamed with delight. “This was stupendous, and only because of you.”
“Don't mention it,” she replied, with a sly wink. “Manipulatinga man's ego is often the cost of doing business.”
“Oh yeah, is that all it was?” Allen asked from the shadowsof a darkened studio. He'd been watching Grace, listeningand waiting. “I was thinking how nice it was to click with a grown woman for a change. I'd hate to imagine that I was wrong.”
“You think we clicked?” Grace blushed. “I'd categorize it as more of a clank, but I'm flattered nonetheless, so let's just leave it at that.” She pretended not to notice his youthful charm and creamy smooth everything else.
“Since you're holding all the cards, I have no choice but to roll with that for now.” Allen passed Grace a business card with his home phone number handwritten on the back of it. “Here are the digits at the house. If you change your mind, call me.” He looked Grace over, slowly, from head to toe. “Call me up for anything at all, even if you just want someoneto talk to.”
“Thank you, Allen, but don't hold your breath. I wouldn't waste a call on a good-looking man like you for the sake of conversation. However, I will have Patrik's people contact your people when the early edits are finished.” Grace tossed a harmless leer at the tower of late night motivation and held her breath. Allen was simply too young and too rough around the edges for her taste. “You did a great job today, Mister All-World Allen,” she offered, praising his work and his work ethic. Grace hushed the naughty thoughts suggestingthat she treat herself to a long night with the wealthy millionaireand his fat-free physique. Allen may have been young, but Grace knew he'd be ready, willing, and able if she ever decided to use the private number written on the flip-sideof that business card. In the meantime, she placed it insideher purse for safekeeping.
The following morning, Grace was still pleased with herself,and excited over the potential revenues she hoped would result from the commercial shoot the day before. Since there weren't any pressing issues to be handled at the office, she decided to work from home part of the day and spend the morning reflecting on a chance to steal a major accountfrom a competitor.
Later, Grace wandered into the office after a lengthy shopping expedition to the mall proved unsuccessful. She was kicking herself for neglecting to stop by Nordstrom's on her way in. Since scuffing the heel on her favorite pair of eggshell white slingbacks, she'd made random visits to variousdepartment stores looking for suitable replacements. Marcia stopped her at the reception area as soon as she enteredthe suite.
“Miss Hilliard, some packages came for you earlier today.” Marcia glanced at her manager from the corner of her eye. “Any luck?” Marcia assumed that Grace's leisurely morning had included a trip to at least one shoe store.
“Nope, but I won't give up without a fight.”
“Neither will Allen Foray, if you ask me,” Marcia predicted,as if she'd given it a considerable amount of thought.
Grace followed Marcia's finger, which pointed to a beautifulflower arrangement resting on the opposite side of the reception area. Squinting at the small envelope taped to the glass vase, Grace turned her gaze back to Marcia. “What's this?” she asked, clueless that a particular millionaire had his sites set on getting next to her.
“Probably just what it looks like,” the assistant answered amiably. “I'm not sure what happened at that shoot yesterday,but if I had to guess, you made a lasting impression when you put Allen in his place. Rich pretty boys like him often come preassembled with an Oedipus complex. Don't be surprised if he's the type who doesn't mind being spanked.”
“And you gathered all that from him sending me one dozen yellow roses? Shows how much you know, junior psychologist,yellow roses are for friendship,” Grace replied.
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