Riding the Corporate Ladder (Indigo) (8 page)

On the one side, she looked forward to being around Uncle Jeffrey, cousin Toya, and Uncle Pete and his boys. And she couldn’t wait to see what meal the matriarchs would bless them with this afternoon; they always prepared something elaborate. She envisioned cornbread, black-eyed peas, brown gravy, and collard greens; no matter what the main course was, her mom always seemed to work those sides in.

But on the other hand, Deena knew Sheila would be there—the heifer never missed a free meal. It was a shame she had to sit across from her hateful sister while enjoying those good foods, but such is life. Deena wasn’t staying home and Sheila wasn’t, either, so, for the last ten years, they both had to grin and bear it.

There was no dress code at Mama’s house, but Deena always wore something nice so she wouldn’t look out of place next to all of the religious folks who came right after church. She pulled a gray skirt and a white blouse from her closet and completed the outfit with black stockings and black pumps. She usually had her hair pulled back when dressed like this, and it felt good to be loose and flirty today.

She straightened her locks and curled the ends for a nice flip. She left her shirt unbuttoned midway down her chest and wore a solitaire diamond pendant that came to rest right above her cleavage. Deena didn’t have a wedding band, but she made up for it with two other twinkling rings of greater value, one on each hand.

Her only regret was not being able to take Boogie with her, but she gave him a nice snuggle on the way out and promised to bring him a big plate of leftovers when she got home.

* * *

Bernice Newman still lived on the south side of Overbrook Meadows, in the very house she single-handedly raised all four of her children in. It was an old brick home with three bedrooms, a carport, and a perimeter fence Deena had installed four years ago because of an outbreak of stray dogs in the neighborhood. The front yard was small, the backyard was small, and all of the doors and windows had much-needed burglar bars, but it was still a beautiful place to Deena; a place of fond memories, warmth, and nurturing.

She pulled her Denali to a stop behind her uncle’s F-350 and was immediately greeted by one of Pete’s boys when she got out of the car.

“Hey, Dee Dee.”

Rodney was twenty-three years old, moderately handsome, and always thuggish. He was light-skinned with thick corn rows and a struggling moustache. Deena knew he harbored an unnatural crush on her, but she still spoiled him. Rodney was the kind of guy who was always going to say exactly how he felt, and Deena respected that.

“Look at you, getting more and more handsome,” she said, and leaned forward to give him a hug. She kept her pelvis as far away as possible during their embrace so he wouldn’t try anything slick like he did when she was in college. “What’s your daddy in there doing?” she asked.

“Running his mouth, as usual,” Rodney said and walked with her to the front door.

“You bring Michael?”

He shook his head. “Naw. She wouldn’t let me see him today.”

Deena shook her head, too. She took her cousin to the child support office last year to get his visitation rights established, but he was still allowing his baby’s mother to go against the court order. Deena wondered if he ever really wanted to see his child in the first place. She led him to water but couldn’t force him to drink.

“Yo brother here,” Rodney said.

“Really?”

Getting Spencer to show up at a family gathering was always a struggle, but he was somewhat faithful when it came to Sunday dinners.

“What he look like?” Deena asked.

Rodney put a hand to his mouth to muffle a snicker. “You just have to see for yourself.”

Deena climbed her mother’s steps eager to see what foolishness her big brother was up to, but Spencer left her mind completely when she opened the front door. There were over twenty guests in attendance this afternoon, and every one of them was in the living room. They were gathered around Bernice’s television watching, of all things, Deena’s press conference from the day before. They cheered like they saw a celebrity when she walked in.

“Hey! It’s Dee!”

“You did yo thang, baby girl!”

“Yeah, you did good!”

One of her nephews ran up and grabbed hold of her hand. Jimmy was seven years old and missing both of his bunny rabbit teeth.

“Dee Dee, you on TV!”

“I am?” Deena bent and scooped him up for a big kiss on the cheek. “What are y’all watching that for?” she asked the crowd. She wasn’t a shy girl, but this was a lot of attention.

“You is now officially my idol!” Uncle Pete called from the sofa. “You showed them white folks what for.”

“You my idol, too!” another one of her cousins shouted.

“That man peed in a can?” someone else wanted to know.

“Boy, watch your mouth,” Mama Bernice snapped as she made her way through the crowd. Deena’s mother was a large woman, dark-skinned with short hair. She got into a habit of wearing muumuus a few years ago, but, other than that, Deena wouldn’t change one thing about her. When they were close enough, Deena put her cousin down so she could embrace her.

“Mama, why do you have that tape on?”

“Hush, child. It’s good for people to see you doing good.” Miss Bernice pronounced hush like hursh.

Spencer approached from Deena’s left and threw his arms around both women. She didn’t think he looked as bad as Rodney let on. His clothes didn’t match or fit well, but at least they were clean.

“For real, Dee Dee, we is all proud of you.”

“Thanks,” she said, “but can we go eat now? I don’t want to be the center of attention all day.”

“All right, girl.” Her mother backed away and hustled everyone to the kitchen. “Okay, come on everybody. Dee Dee say she don’t want y’all harping on her all day. Let’s go get some food in our bellies. We can watch it again when we get through eating.”

“Mama.”

Miss Bernice looked back and smiled at her. “Hush all that whining, girl. You can save that act for them people at work. Ain’t no need to be humble around your own family.”

“But—”

“Come on, girl.” Spencer put an arm around Deena’s shoulder and ushered her to the dining room. “When everybody get in front of that food, they ain’t gonna be thinking about you no more.”

But that wasn’t true.

For dinner that Sunday, the women prepared a huge Butterball turkey with all the trimmings typical of a Thanksgiving or Christmas meal. They had dressing, cranberry sauce, golden brown dinner rolls, a green bean casserole, macaroni, and six different desserts.

Uncle Pete said grace, and everyone dug in ravenously, but the only topic of discussion was Deena’s Fizz Cola press conference. She finally gave in and told them everything they wanted to know about the case, including all the dirt she dug up on the plaintiff.

Everyone was having such a good time, Deena didn’t even notice how quiet Sheila was until her sister decided to add her two cents.

“I’m sure you got a lot of time to work on stuff like that with no husband and no kids to look after.”

No one else noticed or took offense to the comment, but Deena gave her sister a hard look across the table. Sheila was four years older and single with three kids. She was an attractive woman, about fifty pounds heavier than Deena. She was brown skinned with long hair and full hips. The sisters had a lot in common, but their contrasting views on life in general drove a strong wedge between the two.

It all started back when Deena was sixteen. Sheila helped get her little sister a job at the Burger King where she worked, and within a month Deena slept with the boss and got promoted to assistant manager. Rather than take orders from her baby sister, Sheila quit, and the girls’ relationship never really recovered.

And it didn’t help that neither one of them ever changed. Deena was still trying to sleep her way to a million dollars a year, and Sheila was still struggling, giving it her all as a medical assistant. Both women thought the other was going about it the wrong way.

“I don’t need a man or a bunch of kids to hold me down,” Deena said coldly and took a rough bite out of her dinner roll.

“Kids are a blessing,” Sheila countered. “I wouldn’t trade my babies for nothing in the world. Who wants to come home to a cold, empty house all the time?”

Most of the family was used to this bickering, and they ignored it, hoping it would die out on its own. A few of the younger folk got very quiet so they wouldn’t miss anything.

Deena changed the subject but didn’t lose any venom. “Did you get your Kia out of the shop yet?”

Sheila shot daggers across the table with her eyes, but didn’t escalate things with another comeback. Deena leaned back in her seat and took a victory swallow from her iced tea. She won this round, but this was a never-ending war with no clear battle lines.

Uncle Pete finally noticed the uncomfortable silence and was eager to fill it with something. “Whew, it’s gonna be a hot summer,” he predicted.

“Especially if you don’t have AC in your car,” Deena muttered, but she got a short kick in the ankle for that one.

“Ouch!” She turned to her aunt, who was sitting next to her, and Cheryl was not at all apologetic for the violence.

“That’s enough,” she said.

Deena pouted, but she didn’t say anything else to her sister that day. It didn’t make sense to argue with someone who made less than $30,000 a year, anyway. All you had to do was compare their bank accounts to see who was living their life the right way.

Deena woke up fresh and confident the following Monday morning. Ever since she joined the firm, Monday was officially her favorite day of the week; replacing those pungent old Fridays that meant nothing when you had to read case files all weekend. Even worse, Deena usually had more than forty grueling hours of work logged in by the time she left the office on Thursday. Coming back for another shift on Friday was never something to look forward to.

But Mondays were nice.

Deena showered and ate a simple breakfast of grapefruit and toast while she watched the national news channel. For work, she put on a navy blue pants suit with a white blouse. Wearing a tie was not a requirement for women at the firm, so Deena left her shirt collar open and wore a black pearl necklace instead. She could have left her hair down, but nothing said professional woman like a bun. She took a few minutes to brush her hair straight and secure it on the back of her head with a few bobby pins.

She scooped up her briefcase at 7:15 and paused in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, knowing she looked good. The only other thing that could have enhanced her appearance was a pair of dark-rimmed glasses, but Deena took pride in her perfect 20/20 vision. Plus her eyes were one of her biggest flirtation tools.

She filled both of Boogie’s dishes and gave him a much-appreciated scratch between the ears before she left.

* * *

When she got to the office, a few coworkers were still eager to congratulate Deena on her Fizz Cola victory, but there’s always at least one hater in every crowd. Deena ran into Bruce Hayworth when she stepped off the elevator. Bruce was the poor sap she beat out for the Blood Money account, and Deena knew he was going to give her the business at his earliest convenience. She was, however, surprised by the sheer boldness of his comment.

“I hear you got Blood Money.” He was headed for his office, and he didn’t slow much to chat.

“Yeah,” Deena said. “It was close, but Mr. Murray made his decision on Friday.”

“I wish I had a pair of knee pads,” he said—as clear as day—and then he was gone, lost among a sea of lawyers all dressed similarly.

Deena stood there fuming for a second. She didn’t know exactly how she should respond to that, but not responding went against her very being. She gripped the handle of her briefcase so hard her knuckles turned white and stomped down the hall in the direction Bruce had gone. She caught up with him just as he disappeared into his office, and Deena didn’t bother to stop and announce herself to his secretary.

“Um, excuse me…Miss Newman. Miss Newman?”

Bruce hadn’t made it to his seat yet when Deena walked up behind him. He turned and gave her a cold look and then stepped casually to his leather chair. Deena closed the door behind herself and dropped her briefcase. She marched to his desk angrily and leaned forward with her hands on her hips.

Bruce took his seat and looked up at her with no fear or shame, and that pissed Deena off even more.

“You wanna repeat that little comment?” she dared him.

Bruce was a handsome man, about six feet tall, dark-skinned with a short afro. He had a bit of excess fat accumulating around his gut, but the potbelly didn’t take away from his good looks. He had a bright smile, usually, with nice, white teeth. Deena thought about dating him back when they were both new to the firm, but Bruce was on the same level as her and had nothing to offer her career.

“You heard what I said,” he muttered.

Deena shook her head. “No, say it again.”

Bruce rolled his eyes at her. “Why, so you can try to get me fired?”