Down On My Knees (12 page)
Authors: Victor McGlothin
“I don't understand the question,” Grace sighed, annoyed that he dared to ask her such a thing.
“I mean, women like you only talk to men like me when they really need something, and that doesn't include coming up with a ridiculous question about shipping labels that she's too important to paste on herself. I know you think you're too high class to hook up with a low-end working stiff, so what gives?”
“Actually, I don't typically discuss my personal views regardingpotentially suitable mates with men I don't know,” Grace answered, observing Ricardo's jaw tightening in a way that proved his assessment of women like her correct. Regardless,she was determined to put an end to all of his nonsense.“Look, Pretty Ricky.”
“That's what they call me,” he quipped arrogantly.
“Yes, I'm sure they do. And since you asked, I'll set the record straight. I have standards, and I won't apologize for that. Putting your vocation aside, a man is not what he does for a living, because we all have to keep the lights on. With that said, I'd have to say no thank you on general principle because of the stunts you're in the habit of pulling in the back of your company van.” Grace assumed she'd flattened Ricardo, but she hadn't come close to tearing off the veneer covering his street-tempered bravado.
“Ahhh, I see,” he chuckled. “Chandelle probably told you about us testing the shocks back in the day.” When Grace's eyes widened, displaying the shock she couldn't conceal, he smacked his lips. “Oops, I guess she only dished out the dirt on me, like I just served up hers. Now what?”
“Sorry Ricardo, but you did say you had one question. âNow what?' makes two.” Grace thanked the cashier for her salad, wrapped in a white to-go bag. “In case you've forgotten,this is where you bounce. Remember? Oh, and by the way, I don't want there to be any more misunderstandings about us hooking up here or anywhere else. Do you feel me?” she added in a manner he fully understood.
“Huh. Yeah, I feel you all right,” Ricardo smirked. “But next time you want to be left alone, you might want to keep your eyes to yourself. Where I come from, staring a man down is seen as an open invitation. Don't sweat it, though, I got the message.” As Ricardo sulked off slowly, ego slightly bruised, Grace enjoyed the way his tight shorts cupped his butt like a glove. Too bad he was the type of man to have sex with any woman standing still long enough to let him, and besides that, he was nasty. Nasty, she'd overlooked in her past for the sake of cheap thrills, but his other trait was a deal breaker. When Grace told Ricardo that his current positionin life didn't have an effect on her decision not to get involvedwith the likes of him, she almost believed it herself, almost. In all honesty, his résumé did matter. Right, wrong, or indifferent, it mattered. She had worked hard to get where she was and she wanted a man who had managed to ascend in his career field as well. Grace made no bones about that, not then, not ever.
Chandelle met Grace in her office doorway when she returnedfrom the mall. “Who's that man in the conference room?” Chandelle asked, all giddy and bubbling over with excitement.
“What man? I have a one o' clock on the books, but I didn't see anyone come in.”
“I'm sure you didn't see him, if you have to ask, but I'll tell you who I think he is ...” Chandelle crossed her arms, then looked up and down the hallway to see if anyone was in earshot. “That grown man up in the conference room has your name written all over him. There's no wedding ring, I've already scoped that on your behalf. And I know he's straight too. I had Awkward Bob run him through his gaydar, and he came out clean.” If Grace hadn't been so embarrassed for Chandelle, she would have been highly upset for the blatantdisregard of their previous discussion about staying out of her personal affairs.
“You seemed to be all worked up over a man that isn't yours,” Grace said, casting a disapproving eye. “Didn't you recently get married?”
“Uh, yeah, but I didn't recently go blind. I'm jus' tryna look out for my big sistah, on the hook up tip,” Chandelle offeredwith a wide toothy grin.
“Do I look that hard up to you? Wait. On second thought, don't answer that.” Grace weighed her options, and this was no time to be prudish and prideful. If there was somebody to see her, a fine somebody, the least Grace could do was give the man a decent shot at impressing her. Surely she owed him that much.
Grace was about to put her salad away, and hadn't intendedon saying anything about the brief chat she had at the mall but couldn't help letting Chandelle know what she knew. “Oh, I almost forgot. While I was out to get lunch, I ran into a special acquaintance of yours. Want to guess who? Lemme help you out. I had an interesting conversation in the food court with Pretty Ricky.”
“That's what they call him.”
“So I've been told. And accordingly, I feel the need to look out for my lil' sistah. So I'm going to ask you straight up. Are you still letting him hit that, considering your currentstatus?”
“Naw, uh-uh!” Chandelle protested. “That thing we had ended years ago. I was young, but I was ready. Ricardo started throwing some of that broken Spanglish at me, had me living la vida loca and looking for my panties in the dark.”
“Ewwh, in the back of that dirty delivery van?” Grace questioned, fearing the answer.
“Told you he was nasty,” Chandelle confirmed, overlookingthe fact that she was the one searching for her underwear in the rear of a filthy vehicle. “Okay, so him and me had our fling, but I didn't plan on keeping with that Route-Man Madness my whole life. I was single and on my lunch break, Pretty Ricky had a van ... What can I say? But hey, don't waste your time standing there rehashing my past, when your future could be sitting down the hall waiting to trip all over his tongue when he gets a load of you.” When Grace actuallyenvisioned that, her thighs tingled. If the stranger did have a tongue long enough to stumble over, she was liable to jump him on the spot.
13
Batteries Required
D
espite Chandelle's ghetto approach at matchmaking, she had been right before and that was good enough for Grace, so she reached in her Coach purse and came out with a small makeup compact. After dabbing touches of foundationhere and there, she made a slow stroll down the long hall toward the conference room. Chandelle stood up in her cubicle and gave a thumbs up to spur Grace on.
espite Chandelle's ghetto approach at matchmaking, she had been right before and that was good enough for Grace, so she reached in her Coach purse and came out with a small makeup compact. After dabbing touches of foundationhere and there, she made a slow stroll down the long hall toward the conference room. Chandelle stood up in her cubicle and gave a thumbs up to spur Grace on.
Caught up in her associate's idea of every man potentially being the right one, Grace entered the room with grossly unrealisticexpectations, the kind that usually resulted in someonegetting their feelings hurt. This brief encounter would be no exception to the rule. When Grace announced who she was, Kenton Reese, an executive from Dream Creams, stood to offer his hand. “HelloâI'm Grace Hilliardâthe marketingdirector,” she said, all in one hurried pitch. Good thing she did, because that fine example of male masculinity took her remaining breath away.
At first sight, Grace could see that Kenton was more than just a man. His brilliant smile was centered within a perfectly manicured goatee, putting what Greg tried to pass off for one to shame. His complexion was the color of Grace's, maple syrup. She was already imagining how difficult it would be to decipher where his body ended and hers began in the candlelight. His firm frame, concealed by a well-tailored gray flannel three-button suit, must have been sculpted over time, because nobody got to be that fine overnight, Grace reasoned.
As the handsome visitor moved his thin lips to introduce himself, Grace held tightly to his hand and nodded as if she comprehended every word, although she hadn't heard a singlething he said. “Miss Hilliard?” the man repeated for the third time before she snapped out of her enchanted haze. “Miss Hilliard, is there something wrong?”
“What? Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that you remind me of someone,” she answered, her head spinning.
Someone from my dreams
, she wanted to say without regard to how it may have been received. “Mister ... ? I apologize,” Grace said, gatheringherself together.
Someone from my dreams
, she wanted to say without regard to how it may have been received. “Mister ... ? I apologize,” Grace said, gatheringherself together.
“Kenton, Kenton Reese,” he informed her, despite just having told her who he was.
“That's right, Kenton Reese,” she repeated, still taken aback, and more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
Kenton placed his other hand on Grace's arm and then suggested she have a seat. He was honestly concerned that she might fall over. It had happened before to Kenton, the long-time playboy who was determined to mend his ways. At age thirty-five, acquiring wealth and beautiful women had inspired him, both equally so, and not necessarily in that order. Since moving to Dallas from the Washington, DC, area, he'd had his choice of women wrapped in chic designerfashions, every one of them willing to satisfy his every whim. Grace, who was still collecting her faculties, clearly understood why. He looked like money, new money, all crisp and clean, sharply packaged to spike a woman's interest and facilitate important business transactions. In a word, he was dangerous.
“Are you sure this is a good time?” he asked politely, staringinto her eyes to see if anyone was home behind them. “I could reschedule, you know.”
“No, that won't be necessary,” Grace blushed like a southern belle. “I should have eaten breakfast.”
“It's the most important meal of the day,” Kenton said, like an old friend passing the time, “which is why I came by.” Still looking Grace over with the intensity of a seasoned physician, Kenton stepped over to the credenza to get her a glass of water from a pitcher placed there. “Uh, why don't I go?” he offered for the second time. “We'll get together again when you're less ... distracted.”
“No, please don't,” quickly escaped from her mouth beforeshe could bridle it. “I'll be okay. I'm fine, really.” How embarrassing. Corporate Grace had been highjacked by someone who wanted badly to get down and dirty with a man like Kenton Reese, an educated self-assured slice of beautiful black manhoodâa slice that Grace wouldn't have minded sampling until there was nothing left but a smatteringof crumbs. Instead of heading for the hills due to her uncharacteristicbabbling, Kenton displayed genuine concern for her well-being while she fought her way back to a semblanceof normalcy. “Can we start over? And, I'd like you to call meâ” she paused, having forgotten her own name. “Grace.” Kenton tried to stifle his laughter when Grace turned her face away to hide the humiliation. “You have no idea how badly I wish I could disappear,” she sighed.
“Okay, Grace, but there's no need for that,” he told her, smiling amiably. “Let's just chalk it up to a case of low blood sugar. And I would feel more comfortable if you called me Kenton.” Grace nodded, this time truly in tune with the conversation.“I see that I've caught you on a bad day, so I'll cut it short,” he suggested sincerely. Grace was still nodding her head, but deep down she really wanted to oppose his proposition of an abbreviated meeting. “On behalf of Dream Creams, we would like to extend Allen Foray's campaign for an additional six months after the current run.” Kenton opened a black leather portfolio with his monogram stenciledon the bottom-left corner. “I'll leave the marketing strategies with you to review at your leisure. There's no reasonto hurry.”
“Okay, so you'll give me a pass this time? Thank you, Kenton. I'll look forward to reviewing your reports, and thanks for extending the contract. Allen's billboards are gettinga lot of press around town.”
“When we met with Ted several months ago, he promised results, and assured us that you had the magic to bring it all together. I'm glad we decided to do business with Pinnacle. It's a good fit.” Kenton smiled, then gathered his things to end the brief office call, but Grace couldn't let him walk away without putting her bid in to do business with him on another, more intimate, level.
“Kenton, before you go, could you indulge me for a minute, off the record of course?”
“This is a private meeting after all,” he replied, confirmingthat their discussion wouldn't go any further than that conference room.
With a bundle of apprehension, Grace closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Now, I need you to understand that this is totally out of the ordinary, but would it be too forward to ask, for a friend, if you're seeing anyone?”
Kenton's eyes drifted toward the floor, then back up to rest on Grace's. “I believe that women would get a lot more of what they wanted if they'd simply step up and ask the importantquestions more often. No, Grace, one that important is never too forward. However, it did come a few months too late. I've found the perfect lady for me after auditioning more than my fair share. You'd like her. She's a lot like you, a savvy black female who's accustomed to being on top. Please tell your friend that I'm flattered and it's nice to be noticed.”
“I'll do that,” Grace answered. She smiled wearily and extended her hand. “Hopefully, I'll be well nourished and focusedthe next time we have business to discuss.” Grace knew that her light-headed spell had nothing to do with a lack of food. It was a lack of self-control that her whole lower region throbbed for attention. All of that activity had shut down her brain.
As Kenton turned to leave, he tossed a warm smile at Grace. “It was nice to finally meet you, friend. Good luck with that.”
“Thanks. Good-bye, Kenton.”
Grace was standing by the window, sipping from the glass of water Kenton had poured, when Chandelle eased up beside her. “You were right. He's as smooth as butter,” Grace agreed. Despite the obvious, there was something intriguing about Kenton Reese. He was the first man she'd met in quite some time who didn't hesitate to brag about the woman he loved. It was so refreshing that it actually stung. She'd been sharing her bed and body for too long with men who, unlike Kenton, detested commitment. “Yeah,” Grace asserted quietly,“Now I know exactly what I want. Just I wish I knew where to find one.” What she wanted was a man so sure that he'd found the right woman to build a life with that he'd readily confess it to other interested females trying to get in the mix. That was the kind of man she would be proud of.
By the end of the week, things had certainly changed since the morning Allen swung by and lifted Grace's spirits. Night after night, Grace had dealt with constant aggravation and disappointment. Trying to pleasure herself without havingaccess to the necessary tools to finish the job was driving her crazy. By the end of the week, things had changed so much for Grace that she was no longer thinking of KFC when she passed by the jewelry store billboard. She still had breasts and thighs on her mind, her breasts and thighs in the hands of a capable man with nothing better to do than put a late-night smile on her face until she told him to stop. That's when she maneuvered her Volvo SUV over three lanes, just in the nick of time, to take the Mockingbird Lane exit. It was inevitable. Sooner or later, she was destined to call on the Booty Boutique, a posh novelty store that offered the likes of flavored condoms, tawdry bedroom attire, chains and whips, scented oils, and life-size blow-up dolls. The boutique stocked accessories to heighten foreplay and assorted toys for grown-up girls and boys who were bent on getting things going their way.
Tired of falling asleep with her sights on satisfaction and steamy fantasies only to wake up with migraines and cramped fingers, Grace was determined to find alternative methods of getting what she needed without going back on her word. The Booty Boutique began as a small upscale “Naughty Nightie” way station for working women on their way home from the office or on their way to a hot date. Over time, the boutique had grown in size and stature to service a very diverseclientele. Outside the shop, Grace sat in her automobile staring at the entrance. Fearing that she might run into someoneshe knew, perhaps someone from church, she almost backed out of her parking space and headed straight for home. After giving it some additional thought, she concludedthat those who were there to purchase personal maintenanceequipment were in the same boat as her and needed it just as bad. In the time it took to blink, Grace found herself wandering up and down the aisles, browsing over specialty items with labels reading Hot Pockets, Him-sations, and Pocket Rockets. She placed a hand over her mouth after becoming oddly intrigued by signs pointing to vibrator options with differing lengths and widths. Grace skirted past the compact items to camp out under the sign reading
MY NEW BEST FRIEND.
Her face glowed when she pulled one of the packagesdown from the rack. “Ahh, it's kinda heavy, too. Every sistah needs a friend like you,” she whispered, to the foot-longservicing device.
I should have picked up this Tongue Twister 3000 last week and saved myself the trouble,
she thought to herself. As if she'd stumbled onto a blue lagoon in the midst of the desert sun, Grace sat her basket down and emptied everything out of it except for the TT3000 and an assortment of lubricating lotions.
Yeah, this should work out just fine, me and my new best friend. Uh-huh, nice to meetcha. We've got a lot of getting acquainted to do.
MY NEW BEST FRIEND.
Her face glowed when she pulled one of the packagesdown from the rack. “Ahh, it's kinda heavy, too. Every sistah needs a friend like you,” she whispered, to the foot-longservicing device.
I should have picked up this Tongue Twister 3000 last week and saved myself the trouble,
she thought to herself. As if she'd stumbled onto a blue lagoon in the midst of the desert sun, Grace sat her basket down and emptied everything out of it except for the TT3000 and an assortment of lubricating lotions.
Yeah, this should work out just fine, me and my new best friend. Uh-huh, nice to meetcha. We've got a lot of getting acquainted to do.
There were no apparent signs of apprehension, second thoughts, or humiliation accompanying Grace when she stood in line at the checkout counter. A petite cashier who appeared to be bored to death waved Grace over to the middle register. “I can help you here, ma'am,” the younger woman hailed. As she rung up the items going home with Grace, she asked if there was anything else before totaling the transaction.
“Oh, yeah, where do you keep the four-packs of D batteries?”was Grace's request. The cashier pointed to several stacks of four-packs stationed on the wall behind her. Grace placed her right hand over her heart as if she were going to cry tears of joy. “Good, I'll take them all.”
After enjoying three consecutive blissful nights of getting acquainted with the Tongue Twister 3000 and subsequently three consecutive nights of restful sleep, Grace was yearning for the warmth of a man's body more than ever, and all the other amenities that came along with the standard package as well. Subsequently, she decided to widen her relationship net with a deadly aim on snagging something worth keeping.
A Kenton Reese clone would adequately suffice,
she thought,
an educated mover and shaker with the body of Adonis and a desire to fall head over heels in love with the right woman.
Grace remembered Kenton recounting how he'd held open auditions to select his mate, so she set out to do the same to land hers. While avoiding the typical happy hour haunts, popular watering holes and nightclubs where men were always on the make for a woman whose morals had taken a dive after one too many cocktails, Grace's options became severely limited.
A Kenton Reese clone would adequately suffice,
she thought,
an educated mover and shaker with the body of Adonis and a desire to fall head over heels in love with the right woman.
Grace remembered Kenton recounting how he'd held open auditions to select his mate, so she set out to do the same to land hers. While avoiding the typical happy hour haunts, popular watering holes and nightclubs where men were always on the make for a woman whose morals had taken a dive after one too many cocktails, Grace's options became severely limited.
She'd seen what her church congregation had to offer and cringed when that heathen Albert Jenkins came to mind. Against Sister Kolislaw's better judgment, which Grace questioned silently when told, “you must be crazy to go shopping the net, full of world wide weirdos, expecting to find anything other than a mess of fools with more problems than all the Hebrews in the whole Old Testament combined. Heed my advice Grace. I wouldn't steer you wrong. If 'n I told you that a flea could pull a train then you'd best to hook it up,” she sat in front of her computer.
“I must be crazy,” Grace heard herself say while strollingthrough the web for a singles site that wasn't a front for wild, undercover, butt-naked orgies. After submitting her e-mail address and additional information, she found herselfin the midst of private organizations that specialized in everything from slightly disabled escorts to midget oil-wrestlingsports bars. When Grace stumbled onto Christian
SingleButLooking.com
, she felt safe and confident that it fit her situation like a glove, so she laid her apprehensions aside to take a closer look. Within a very interesting week of dating,Grace would come to realize that neglecting Sister Kolislaw's warnings wasn't her only mistake, but merely the beginning of a long trail of them.
SingleButLooking.com
, she felt safe and confident that it fit her situation like a glove, so she laid her apprehensions aside to take a closer look. Within a very interesting week of dating,Grace would come to realize that neglecting Sister Kolislaw's warnings wasn't her only mistake, but merely the beginning of a long trail of them.
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