The Man in 3B (12 page)

Now that was a sign that Slim was serious. He and my father got along, but Slim never went out of his way to talk to my dad.

“What did he say?” My father wasn’t much of a talker. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Slim; he’d become more withdrawn in general ever since he lost his job and had to start selling cheap furniture.

“He said the decision is up to you, but if you said yes, he’d be proud to have me as a son-in-law.” Slim put his hands on my waist and looked into my eyes. “What do you think? Krystal Mack, will you marry me? I love you. You know I’ll always have what you need, baby.”

Slim was right. Everything I needed and had wanted for the past five years was right in that pale blue box—at least until Daryl came
back into my life a week ago. I glanced at the box, then looked up at Slim, who was waiting expectantly for my answer.

After waiting so long for this proposal, I didn’t know what the hell to say now that it had happened. I actually considered trying to stall him, buy myself maybe another week or two so I could enjoy a little more time with Daryl before ending it completely. I wanted to quit my habit gradually, not have to do it cold turkey. There was only one problem with that. If I said no or even asked for a little more time, Slim was not the kind of man who would put the offer on the table ever again.

As Slim stood there waiting, I quickly weighed the pros and the cons in my mind. Both men were good providers. Daryl was a much better lover, but it’s not like Slim was a slouch in the bedroom either. Plus, Slim was easier to talk to than Daryl, who used to get a little moody and withdrawn. Then there was the religion thing. Daryl was an Israelite, and he’d always made it very clear that if we ever got married, he expected me to convert.

I looked down at the blue box in my hand and thought about the many similar packages Slim had brought me over the years. That’s when I realized the most important distinction between them. Daryl had been a little too controlling in our relationship, always telling me what he thought I should or shouldn’t be doing, what was good for me and what was bad. Slim, on the other hand, always brought me what I wanted, no questions asked. Like his favorite line, he always had what I needed.

Aside from a few good orgasms, there was no question in my mind about what my answer should be.

“Yes, Slim. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

I walked confidently through the doors of Cheap Sam’s with my head held high and my chest stuck out like I owned the damn place. Granted, it might not have been my name hanging on the sign outside, but once I had my meeting with Dave and he made my promotion to manager official, everyone who worked there was going to know that I was the new HNIC (Head Nigger in Charge).

Like my man Cain said, it was time to live like I was dying. In the past week, I’d given Connie’s fat ass the boot, moved temporarily into a room at my parents’ house, and was about to seize the promotion I’d been coveting for two years. I was feeling alive again and had a newfound confidence to go along with my generally good mood. Cain’s advice—along with the young, tight pussy he’d provided at his house—had given me a whole new outlook.

I must have been radiating confidence because even Jerri, the store’s fine-ass bookkeeper, was giving me the time of day again. I’d been trying to get with her for a while, but things had cooled off ever since she decided she didn’t do married men. At least that’s what she claimed, but lately it seemed like she was always around, smiling up in my face, like all I had to do was ask and she’d give up the pussy.

She was sitting behind the counter, waving at me when I walked in. I strolled over to her, and the closer I got, the prettier she got. Damn, I wanted to fuck this woman.

I leaned on the counter like I was John Shaft. “Hey there, Jerri. What’s cooking, good looking?” I said cockily, eyeing her up and down.

“Hey, Avery. How you doing?” She batted her false eyelashes.

“I’m good.” I smoothed over my mustache.

“You know, Avery, there’s something different about you lately,” she remarked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been thinking a lot about you. Maybe that’s it.”

Jerri smiled, clearly loving the attention. “What you been thinking about?”

“How you and me need to go out to dinner and see a show.”

Her face lit up. “I would love to go out to dinner…”

“Cool,” I said, but she put the brakes on a little.

“But are you sure your wife won’t mind?”

I chuckled at her attempt at playing hard to get. “You don’t have to worry about that. Me and my wife just separated. I’m a single man now.”

Her smile became even wider. “So, do you have your own place and everything?”

“Well, not exactly. I’m kinda staying with my parents right now, but I’m working on some things.” In my mind, that was a minor technicality. It was only a matter of time before I had a place of my own again, but to Jerri it was obviously more of a hurdle.

“Oh,” she said kind of under her breath with a frown. “Well, I’ll be honest with you. I’m looking for a man who’s a little more stable. I ain’t got time to be taking care of nobody.”

I took a step back. “Well, damn, woman. There’s no shame in your game, huh?”

“Avery, I’m a high-maintenance woman. I need a man who has a future, and well, you’re just a salesman who lives with his momma.” She frowned.

Ouch. If any other woman had said it, I would have flipped out on her ass, but the thing is, I was so hot for Jerri that I was willing to let it slide. “Not for long,” I told her. “I guess you ain’t heard that I’m about to be the manager of this place.”

Her eyes lit up again, probably because as the bookkeeper she knew everyone’s salaries. “Is that why Sam and his son are here?”

“I suspect so. I’ve got a meeting with Dave now. Guess Sam and his son are going to sit in.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you, Big Daddy,” Jerri said as I took a step toward the door marked
MANAGER
. “Oh, and Avery?”

With my hand on the knob, I turned around to get one last look at her. “Yeah?”

“If what you say is true and you get the promotion, I’ll be open to going out with you and celebrating anytime you’re ready.”

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” I grinned, adjusted my tie, then turned around and walked into Dave’s office.

Dave was sitting at his desk. Across from him was Sam, who kind of reminded me of Colonel Sanders. Next to Sam was a young, freckle-faced kid in his twenties, whom I suspected was the owner’s son.

“Avery, my man, glad you could make it. Have a seat.” Dave stood, gesturing toward the chair to the right of his desk.

“Thanks. Glad to be here.” I shook everyone’s hands before I took my seat next to the kid.

Dave started the conversation. “Well, Avery, as you know, I’m going to be headed to the main office to become general manager.”

I nodded, anxious to get the formalities over with so they could offer me Dave’s job.

“So,” Dave continued, “Sam here wanted me to talk to you about the future of this store and the transfer of one management team to another.”

I spoke up, ready to deliver the words that I’d been practicing for this moment ever since Dave told me he was leaving. “First of all, Dave, let me congratulate you on your promotion. This store’s loss is the entire company’s gain.” I glanced over at Sam, making sure I had his attention. I wanted him to understand I was a team player. “Secondly, whatever I have to do to make the management transition smooth I’ll do. I don’t have to tell you I live and breathe Cheap Sam’s Furniture.” Pretty good speech if I do say so myself.

Dave didn’t seem nearly as impressed as I thought he’d be, though.
“Uh, thank you, Avery. I appreciate your kind words,” he said, then shot an awkward glance at Sam. “And as far as your work ethic, I agree with you wholeheartedly. I even went to Sam and told him you were the man for this job.” Dave’s eyebrows were pulled together in this weird, remorseful expression. What the hell was going on?

“And? What did you think, Sam?” I asked, pushing ahead as if I weren’t getting a really bad feeling about this whole thing.

“Ahem.” Sam cleared his throat nervously. “I said that he was probably right, but…”

I tried to remain calm, even though I knew nothing good ever came after the
but
in a situation like this. This time was no different.

“But we’re going to go in a different direction filling that position right now.”

“Huh?” I felt like all the blood had been drained from my body.

“Avery,” Dave spoke in a rush. “I know this is a little bit of a surprise, but we do have big plans for your career. You just have to be patient a bit longer.”

“Who’s going to be manager?” I asked. If he told me it was one of those assholes I worked with on the sales floor, I was prepared to hit the roof. I was ten times more valuable to the company than any of those fools.

Dave’s eyes went to the young kid, who had yet to say anything. “Avery Mack,” Dave said, “I want you to meet Sam Junior. Sam wants you to train his son to run this store. Figures he should start at one of the stores for a year or two before we move him over to the main office.”

“He’s a smart kid. He just graduated from Boston College, and he’s eager to learn,” Sam added, patting his son on the back. “I’m sure it’s not gonna take long for you to teach him all you know.”

I was so thrown off guard by this announcement that for a second I was totally disoriented. I shook my head as if it would clear my confusion. “Wait—what?” I uttered at the same time that the kid stood up and held out his pasty hand for me to shake.

“It’s going to be nice working with you,” he said. “And once my
father moves me up to the vice presidency, I’ll make sure that you get this management position.”

Oh, hell naw! This was not happening. No way was I going to accept this snot-nosed rich kid as my superior. That damn job was supposed to be mine!

I looked down at his hand, which he dropped to his side when he figured out I wasn’t going to shake it.

“Kid, let me ask you a question,” I said in a controlled voice. The young boy nodded. “What exactly is a pillowtop mattress? And how would you distinguish it from, say, the Sealy Posturepedic Solon Plush Euro Top mattress?”

“I don’t know,” he answered blankly.

“Exactly.” I looked pointedly at Sam and then back to his son as I continued, “Tell me the difference between contemporary furniture and classical furniture.”

“Ah, I’m not really sure,” he stammered, and I had to laugh.

“And you want to be a manager in a furniture store?” I turned to Dave. “He’s not even ready to be a stock boy.”

Dave, of course, didn’t have the balls to agree with me in front of the boss. He just shrugged his shoulders and avoided eye contact.

I turned back to the boss. “Sam, please. I know he’s your son, but he can’t run this store.”

“That’s why you’re going to be here to train him,” Sam answered, totally unfazed by the lack of knowledge his son had demonstrated.

“Are you crazy?” I bellowed. “Man, I’m not training that kid to take my job. That’s bullshit!”

“You’re sliding on a slippery slope, Avery,” Dave warned, but by now I didn’t give a crap.

I felt my pulse pounding, causing the carotid artery in my neck to bulge out. I was enraged, and after years of being beaten down, I wasn’t going to take it anymore. No more swallowing my pride only to make a few lousy dollars. Finally, my fury found its voice. “You know what, Dave? Fuck you and your Uncle Tom ass.” I gave him the finger, then turned to Sam Junior and said, “And fuck you too, you
little pimply-faced bastard.” Finally, I turned to the owner. “Oh, and Sam, a very special fuck you to you, you Kentucky Fried Chicken–looking motherfucker. You can take this job and fuck yourself. I quit!”

I held both my middle fingers up as I backed out of the room, slamming the door behind me.

Jerri came strutting up to me, looking excited. “Well, did you get the promotion?” I could practically see dollar signs in her eyes.

“No, I didn’t get it! Matter of fact, fuck you, you stink-ass, gold-digging whore!” I left her standing there with a dumb look on her face as I stormed out of the building for the last time. Even though I’d just quit my job, my adrenaline was at an all-time high. If this was what it felt like to live like I was dying, then I wanted more—lots more.

I sat at my computer, putting the finishing touches on my latest blog entry. As I hit save, I started thinking about the night ahead of me, wondering what it would bring. Whatever it was, I knew it would be fun. It’s not every day a guy turns twenty-one. I planned on making the best of it by going out to a club, getting drunk as hell, and with any luck, getting laid. I knew the latter was a stretch, but a guy could dream, couldn’t he? As I wrapped up my journal entry, I heard a knock on my bedroom door.

“Come in,” I called out, knowing it could be only one person.

My father stuck his head in the door.

“Hey, Pop. What’s up?”

“Nothing much, son. I’m getting ready to head on out.” He entered the room with the same depressing look he’d had earlier, when he got the call to go back to the firehouse for the night shift. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

“It’s all right. I’ll see you in the morning.” I tried my best to sound disappointed, but I wasn’t at all. With him out of the way, I was sure I would have a much better time. I loved my pops like a friend, but he was still my parent, and there are some things you don’t want your parents to see. I was hoping to get into some of those things tonight.

“No, it’s not all right. It’s your twenty-first birthday. For years I’ve been telling you that when you turned twenty-one, I was going to take you out and get you drunk for the first time.”

I held back a smile. The look on his face was so pitiful I almost wanted to tell him not to feel bad because I’d been drinking for years.

“Don’t worry about it, Pop. It’s all good. We’re gonna get drunk together one of these days.”

“Well, anyway, here you go…” He handed me an envelope.