Riding the Corporate Ladder (Indigo) (16 page)

“If I was thinking that, I would,” Deena said earnestly. “You already showed me a new side of you, and now I have some soul-searching to do. I need to figure out what I really want.”

He accepted that and left without asking for a hug or a kiss. Deena locked the door behind him and headed for her bedroom in search of a nice pair of bunny slippers. Boogie went with her, running between her legs at times but never getting caught underfoot.

“You want some cocoa?” she asked him.

He darted ahead, then turned to face her. He barked once, his tail swinging like a pendulum.

“Yeah, right,” Deena said. “You’re not getting any of my cocoa.”

Boogie cocked his head to the side and yipped again.

“I said no,” Deena said with a giggle.

Her little terrier couldn’t cook, couldn’t clean, couldn’t take out the trash or take her to the movies, but Boogie was still the only man Deena wanted in her life right now.

The dog she had was just fine. Why would she want a two-legged one?

The following Sunday, Deena had to wake up earlier than usual because Yesenia wanted to tag along for the weekly dinner at Mama Bernice’s house. Deena would have to drive halfway across town to pick her friend up, but she didn’t mind at all, especially today. Rumor had it her sister Sheila had a new boyfriend, and everyone was pretty sure she’d bring him to dinner this afternoon. Deena didn’t have a man to throw back in her sister’s face, but with Yesenia there, at least she’d have a buddy to lean on if things got uncomfortable.

Deena showered and put on a pair of loose-fitting capris with a silk blouse. She curled her hair in a flip and draped a gold mariner necklace around her neck. She thought she looked pretty darned cute when it all came together.

She still had a few minutes to kill afterwards, so she went out to the back porch and watched Boogie run wildly through the soft Bermuda grass in her yard. Deena had an authentic hammock back there, but she lounged on her big, wooden rocking chair instead. The sun was warm, but not hot on her skin. A few sparrows sang to her from nearby trees.

This was one of those rare moments when Mother Nature brought everything together for maximum beauty and serenity, but Deena was all but oblivious to the scene. She couldn’t stop thinking about the battle soon to be waged at her mother’s house. She girded herself for confrontation and left thirty minutes later with the taste of war on her lips.

* * *

Yesenia lived on the north side of town in small neighborhood known as Diamond Hill. She had a three-bedroom home with a manicured lawn, a picket fence, and two fat bulldogs in the backyard. Like Deena, Yesenia didn’t have a husband or kids to occupy her empty bedrooms, but unlike Deena, Yesenia was constantly on the prowl for said husband and children.

She wasn’t ready to go when Deena got there, but that was no huge surprise. In the nine years Deena knew her, Yesenia was never ready to leave when she said she would be. Deena sat in her living room and flipped through a photo album Yesenia kept on the coffee table.

“Have you seen Darren again?” she shouted towards the bedroom.

“No, but we’re going out again today, actually,” Yesenia called back.

“That’s great. What are you going to wear?”

Her friend appeared in the doorway with a dopey grin on her face. Deena checked her out and smiled back at her. Today Yesenia had on a pair of tight denim capris with a pink halter top. She had her hair done recently, and it was darker, with blonde highlights in the curls. She looked fresh and vibrant, but she had on too much makeup again.

“Look at you!” Deena exclaimed. “Turn around.”

Her friend spun, and Deena nodded pleasantly. “Girl, he’s gonna like that. Especially that big booty. You should wear jeans more often.”

Yesenia gasped and grabbed her butt. “I should change.”

“No, you shouldn’t.”

“I gained four pounds this month,” Yesenia whined. “I don’t want a fat ass.”

Deena shook her head. “Woman, it’s not fat. It looks good. And of all the things you could worry about, your ass should be the last. That’s probably your golden ticket with Darren.”

Yesenia smiled hesitantly. “Really?”

“Shoots, yeah,” Deena replied. “There are two things in this world a black man absolutely cannot look away from, even if he wanted to.”

“What’s that?”

“A fight and a big booty,” Deena announced with a grin. “You already have the tight jeans on, so now all you have to do is beat up the waitress at whatever restaurant you go to.”

Yesenia laughed. “You crazy.”

“We’re running late,” Deena said. She got up and fished a napkin from her purse. “Let me help you get some of that makeup off.”

Again Yesenia was startled. “It’s too much?”

Deena looked into her eyes. “You are beautiful,” she said sincerely. “You don’t need all that stuff on your face to make you pretty. If you want to bring out your eyes or your cheekbones, use soft colors. You’ve got on more eyeliner than Cleopatra! You need to let him see what you really look like.”

Yesenia headed for the restroom, giggling. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Deena said. “Since I don’t go to church, I try to do as many good deeds as possible so I can stay right with God.”

“You can’t get into heaven with good works alone,” Yesenia told her. “If you went to church you’d know that.”

“Shut up,” Deena said. “This is your self-help hour—not mine!”

* * *

Ten minutes later they were on the freeway headed south. Yesenia had the visor down, checking out her new natural look in the mirror. On the radio, R & B singer Ray J begged for one wish so he could get back with his woman.

Deena had a wish, too. She wished she could run into Ray J’s dark chocolate self one day so she could check out that well-endowed erection he had on display in his sex tape.

“So what are you and Mr. Darren doing today?” she asked her friend.

“We’re going to the movies,” Yesenia said. “And then we might get drinks or something to eat.”

“I love the movies,” Deena said. “They’re great for dates.”

“How come?”

“If you’re nervous, you can watch the show without talking much. And if you do want to talk, you have to lean in and whisper in their ear, all close and personal. He can smell your hair and your perfume. You can hold hands. You can make out. He can put his hand up your skirt. And if you’re sitting in the back, you can jack him off or give him a bl—”

“Whoa! Back it up, freak-nasty.”

Deena laughed. “Well, you can hold hands and whisper in his ear.”

Yesenia laughed, too. “I think that might be okay.”

“Where are y’all going afterwards?”

“I don’t know. He’s supposed to come up with something.”

“Good,” Deena said. “Let him take charge if he wants.”

“Wherever we go,” Yesenia noted, “I’m not eating anything but the salad.”

“Uh-uh.” Deena shook her head. “That’s a big misconception. Most men don’t want a woman who picks at her food. Depending on where you go, your plate might cost twenty, thirty dollars. You think he wants to spend that kind of money if you’re not going to eat?”

Yesenia shrugged.

“Plus he’s happy with the way you are. He picked you first, right?”

Her friend nodded.

“So don’t change,” Deena warned. “He’s got to like you for who you are.”

Yesenia sat back in her seat and sighed. “Dang, you know everything about men.”

“I’m gonna write a self-help book about those dirty bastards one day,” Deena kidded.

“What’d you do last night?” Yesenia asked. “Did Keshaun come by?”

“I haven’t seen him in over a week.”

“What? You went a week without a man in your house?”

“It’s not all that rare,” Deena said, “contrary to popular belief.”

Yesenia gave her the eye. “Not one man?”

“Well, Ron came by to fix my computer,” Deena admitted. “And that’s all he fixed.”

“Ron? That’s the dork you went out with last year?”

Deena nodded.

“How’s he doing? Did he get on your nerves the whole time?”

“Not really,” Deena said. “I sat Ron down for a long talk, and he doesn’t offer to drink my bathwater anymore. He speaks and behaves like a perfect gentleman.”

“You sat him down?”

“Sure,” Deena said. “Men want to be trained. That’s another thing people are confused about. When I write my book, that’s going to be the first chapter: How to Make his Fool ass Mind.”

That cracked Yesenia up. “So, he minds now…Does that mean you’re going to go out with him again?”

“I knew you’d say that. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“It’s probably the safest move you could make right now,” Yesenia said earnestly.

“I know,” Deena said. “He’s the most boring move I could make right now.”

“Just because he doesn’t hang in the streets doing drugs doesn’t make him boring,” Yesenia said. “You can’t live in the fast lane all your life. You gave it a good run, though.”

Deena chuckled a little uncomfortably.

* * *

When they got to Mama Bernice’s house, Deena’s Fizz Cola press conference was like a thing of the past. Their family was rather large, and almost everyone was involved in something different each week. So congratulations, praise, awws, and condemnations were usually short-lived; forgotten between one Sunday dinner and the next.

This week everyone was up in arms about Cousin Rodney getting locked up—again. Deena thought Rodney’s baby’s mother was being mean and spiteful for not wanting him around their son, but it turned out she might have had the right idea all along. According to Uncle Pete, Rodney got arrested this time for assaulting his current girlfriend over (are you serious?) a box of French fries.

Apparently Rodney sent his woman to McDonald’s for dinner that night. She munched too many of his fries on the way home, and Rodney struck her in the face six times and kicked her in the stomach for the infraction. Uncle Pete said Rodney didn’t know she was eight weeks pregnant, but Deena still didn’t want to help get him out of jail—even though he was family.

“You gon’ help him, ain’t you?” Uncle Pete asked, almost pleading. He loved his knuckleheaded son through thick and thin. “He ain’t never done nothing like this before.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Deena told him.

After they were all done feeling sorry for Rodney, Aunt Cheryl had good news for the Newman family. For the last twelve years she’d been unsuccessful in her attempt to publish romance novels, but finally, at the ripe age of fifty-nine, she got her first positive response from a publisher.

“They just said they want to read the rest of the book,” Aunt Cheryl warned everyone. “They haven’t said they want to publish it yet.”

But that wasn’t enough to slow the adulations from her kinfolk. Everyone knew this was Cheryl’s only dream, and they all prayed for her success.

“Let me look over any contract they send you,” Deena told her.

“Girl, they ain’t nowhere near sending me a contract,” Aunt Cheryl replied, but you could see the eternal light of hope glistening in her eyes. If she got rejected again, Deena thought she might put up the money so her aunt could self-publish.

“Just don’t forget to show me that contract,” she said. “I think this might be your time, for real.”

Outside of jailed cousins and possible publishing deals, the other big news at Mama Bernice’s house this week was Sheila’s new boyfriend. Deena couldn’t stand her sister, and she hoped he’d be ugly and fat and going bald, but the sonofabitch was actually all right-looking. His name was Robert and he was a salesman at a Saturn dealership. Deena sat directly across from him with acid in the back of her throat.

Spread across the table between them was a huge platter of spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread, salad, and a few pitchers of sweet tea. Deena already had the same meal earlier this week, but everything tastes better at Mama’s house. Plus Deena always broke her ground beef up with a spatula, but Mama Bernice rolled her meat into huge balls. They were so big you could stick a fork in one and hold it up like a microphone (Deena stopped doing that a long time ago).

There was also a lemon meringue pie, a sweet potato pie, and a pecan pie on the table. It was enough to make your stomach growl even if you weren’t hungry, but no one was looking at the food right now. Sheila’s date was telling a story, and this guy knew how to spin a yarn. Robert was confident, articulate, and funny. Nearly everything he said brought laughter from the Newman clan. Deena was so disgusted she wanted to throw up—right there in front of everybody.

“But that’s when I went out and saw his trade-in,” Robert was saying. “That boy had the nerve to come up in there with a 1974 Chevy Nova. And it wasn’t suped up or nothing. It had a bunch of big cracks in the windshield, one doughnut, and three bald-headed tires. Had a blue fender on the right and a red one on the left—and the rest of this car was yellow, y’all! That boy had a dragging muffler he had hooked up with a coat hanger. And don’t let me forget the inside; looked like he raised a family of possums in there!”