Knowing (10 page)

Cupping her hands, she splashed cold water on her face. She was determined not to feel sorry for herself about a problem over which she had no control. But she needed Jackson’s support — needed him to tell her yet again that it didn’t matter about her hair. Maybe this time she would finally believe him.

When she walked into the sitting area of their bedroom, Ginger was mildly disappointed to find Jackson asleep, his bottom lip gaping open slightly. She touched his arm to wake him. Jackson was still clutching the remote control, and it took him a few seconds to get his bearings. She snatched the remote from his hand and kneeled down in front of him. “Can we talk now, sweetheart? What did Mae Thelma want?”

“Nothing. Nothing important. Baby, let’s go to bed. We can talk in the morning. Besides, I saved you the trouble and I already gave myself a lecture about how to conduct myself in Mississippi while I’m not at the hospital.” He gave her a devilish smile. “I’ll be too busy to see any of my old friends, I’m planning on paint —”

“Jackson. I’m not worried about you and your old friends down South. I wanted to talk about . . . something more personal.” Placing her hands on his thighs, she rested her head on his chest. His arms encircled her waist. He stroked her hair, and kissed her neck, his lips brushing past her as he spoke, “I know you’re gonna miss me, baby. I miss you already.”

“Jackson, wait —”

“Come on, baby. I know just what you need.” She held her tears in check as he gathered her into his arms and moved her onto the bed, kissing her passionately. He peeled off his clothes quickly, and lifted the hem of her gown above her waist, massaging her buttocks, which felt as soft and sweet as cotton candy to him.

Acquiescing to his charms, she knew the moment had passed for a serious discussion. She needed him now, but would have to wait for any words of reassurance.

“Hey, girlfriend. What’s up?” said Kim, hanging her coat in the front hall closet. “Damn, it’s cold out there.”

Ginger looked at her cousin. “If that suit had a few more yards of fabric on it, I doubt if you’d feel a chill.” Decked out in an Aztec gold three-quarter-length wool-crepe collarless tapered jacket and matching miniskirt, Kim looked all the part of a young executive. “I got to give it to you, girl. The suit is bad. I wish Jackson would let me wear miniskirts. He says my knees are too big.”

As they walked toward the blaring music in the family room, Kim moved slowly, her hips swaying to the beat. She played with the strands of gold chains above her breasts. “You give that man too much power. No man is ever gonna tell me what I can and can’t wear. Just like the guns of Will Sonnett, ‘no brag, just fact.’ ”

As soon as the girls saw Kim they steered her downstairs to watch the new dance routine they’d worked out. Kim watched patiently and then gave them a few new pointers she’d learned from Detroit’s daily televised
New Dance Show
, which she sometimes frequented.

Ginger envied Kim’s natural talent for dancing, and treasured her cousin’s patience with her overzealous daughters. Ginger hadn’t danced in years, though in her teens she’d won plenty of dance contests — something her girls never quite believed.

Kim and Ginger finally managed to break from the girls for a steaming cup of orange spice tea. “Those outfits the girls have on are tough, girlfriend,” Kim said, blowing into her cup. “I just don’t know how you find the time to sew at home, and sew at work. Don’t you ever get sick of sitting in front of a machine?”

Ginger smiled as she spoke. “That’s the reason I asked you to come over. I’m hoping to change that soon.” She leaned back and pulled a briefcase from beside the buffet. “Look,” she said, opening the brown leather case. “I’m going to start selling real estate.”

Setting down her cup, Kim gave her a feline smile. “I’m impressed, Ginger. I think it’s a wise decision. An excellent choice, considering how much you love houses.” She looked around the tastefully decorated breakfast room, done in lavender and peach. “Anyone seeing this house for the first time would think you’d hired an interior decorator.”

“Thanks, Kim.” Ginger leaned across the table and patted her on the shoulder. “You’re more than a cousin. You’re the best friend I’ve got. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’re right, what would you do without me?” They saluted each other with their teacups, exchanging mischievous grins.

Kim gave Ginger a lecture on how to become a successful businesswoman, pointing out the ways she could develop her particular strengths. She encouraged Ginger to learn not only the administrative duties the job entailed, but to learn the logistical and technical aspects of marketing, too. She advised Ginger to read the marketing textbooks from Jackson’s college days she’d seen on their library bookshelves.

She advised Ginger to make a long-range plan of where she wanted to be and when, to remain focused on the job at hand, but to be aware of the next job on the ladder — managing the agency. “Create a goal in your mind and stay on that course, and you’ll find the wind behind the sails of your career,” she told her.

“Remember,” she concluded, “as some famous person once said, ‘Boldness . . . is the first, second, and third thing.’ ” Kim tapped a sculptured fingernail on her arm. “Don’t forget it.”

“I have so much respect for you, Kim. You know so much for someone so young,” said Ginger, clearing the table.

“I had a good teacher.” She leaned against the counter as Ginger washed and dried their cups and saucers. “Remember that guy that helped me get my job at the agency? Randall. Randall Pierce.” Ginger shook her head no as she folded the dish towel and looped it through the oven handle. “Anyway, we went to school together at Michigan State. After the first semester, we seemed destined to meet. We had the same classes. Sometimes with different professors. But over the four years we became fast friends, doing our homework together, sharing stories about our childhood and domineering parents.”

“And you say the guy helped you get your job at Pierce-Walker?”

“Yeah. He pulled a few strings because his aunt owns the investment company.” She threw her hands in the air. “Otherwise, I would have had to have at least two to three years’ experience after college before I landed a job like this.”

“Lucky you,” said Ginger, feeling envious. Her cousin had done all the things Ginger had wanted to do when she was younger. She had lived on campus at an impressive university, dated men from different social backgrounds, and shopped whenever she felt like it, thanks to a generous allowance from her parents. And, most importantly, had chosen a good career early on in life.

“No, Ginger. You make your own luck. Contacts. Networking is important to succeed in business. I’ve negotiated a lot of deals for that company. They gave me a job, but I’ve paid them back tenfold with my impressive lists of satisfied clients. I’m good. Damn good.” She glanced at her watch. It was getting late. “No brag . . .”

“Just fact,” said Ginger, completing the phrase. She turned toward Kim and asked, “Wouldn’t you like to open a business with Bill as your partner?” She handed Kim her purple leather coat from the hall closet.

“No.” Kim stood motionless in the middle of the foyer. “Bill is good at his job, and I’m good at mine. I enjoy knowing that I’m superior to him at something.” She thought about it for a moment. “You know how intellectual he is. I admire him for it. I respect his dedication and genuine concern about the importance of his work with troubled Black children” — she paused — “but I expect the same respect. I’m educating affluent Black clients on how to invest their money. Money is power. Without power, we’re defeated before we begin.

“Sure, I have White clients. Satisfied White clients. Every now and then they lose a few grand, but they can afford it.” She thought for a moment before adding, “Scratch that. The only dissatisfied Caucasian around me is my boss, Cameron. Randall’s uncle.” She eased into her coat.

“He resents my friendship with his nephew. Says I’m using him to climb the corporate ladder. Of course Mr. Cameron didn’t start complaining until I stopped fucking him.” She waited for the shock to register on Ginger’s face.

Ginger’s mouth formed a large O. “You what?”

“Grow up, Ginger. I fucked him. He was the boss. I thought he was the key to a managerial position. Boy, was I wrong. His wife holds the strings. He’s only a puppet.” Kim sucked in her breath. “Listen, Ginger, this was before I met Doctor Bill. Before he used his charms on me, and I developed a conscience.”

Kim put her hands over her heart defensively. “Look, I’m human. I’ve made a few mistakes. Will probably make several more. Bill’s taught me to look forward in life. To create a positive future without looking back. I can’t change the past, and the immature decisions I’ve made.” She looked deeply into her cousin’s eyes. “I’m sorry if I’ve lowered your opinion of me — but life’s full of surprises.”

“Let’s not get so dramatic,” said Ginger, trying to lighten the mood. “Hey, Jackson’s going to be gone until Sunday or Monday, why don’t we meet for lunch Friday afternoon?”

“Aren’t you going . . . I forgot, you have your real estate classes on Thursday and Friday, right?” She admired her cousin’s tenacity. Changing her life with a husband as jealous as Jackson wasn’t going to be easy. Even though Ginger would never admit it, Kim had seen from the moment they first met how he overpowered her, dominated her. Maybe with him away, she could coax Ginger into a heart-to-heart before her cousin sabotaged what would probably be her last effort to leave the factory life behind.

“I forgot. I’ve got to call Mama before I go home. She wanted me to stop by the store for something, I can’t remember what. . . .” Kim patted the girls on the head as they sped past her in the kitchen. “Mama’s not feeling too well herself, I’m afraid.”

As they made their way to the foyer, Ginger asked Kim if she and her mother were getting along any better. “Oooohh, that woman gets on my nerves! Complain. Complain. Complain. She never compliments me on anything. In her eyes, I’m just a selfish spoiled child looking for somebody to take care of me after I leave home.” She took her car keys from her purse and walked toward the front door. “She seems to have forgotten I haven’t asked her or my father for a dime in the last year and a half.”

“Why would you? You’ve told me time and time again how much your commissions brought you. You should be loaded living at home with your parents. I know for a fact that Aunt Jewel isn’t charging you any rent.”

“If we weren’t cousins, I’d tell you to mind your own business. But, I’ll let you in on one of my goals. I’ve invested half my take-home pay since joining the firm in high-risk investments. Randall helped me set up my portfolio.” She gave Ginger an innocent smile. “Bill doesn’t even know about it. I let him think I spend all my money on clothes — he’ll never know how many store managers I’ve got calling me when the suit I’ve been waiting for gets the final markdown. I shop on my lunch hour at least three times a week searching for a bargain. And believe me, you can always find one. Guess how much I paid for this suit?”

Ginger was impressed. She turned her head from side to side. Kim knew she’d been sewing for years and knew the quality and price of a tailored suit. “Maybe two-fifty, or three hundred dollars.”

“Try sixty-five dollars. Give the lady a star — it retailed for two ninety-nine.” She held Ginger’s eye for a moment before adding, “You know what I tell Dr. Bill?” Ginger’s eyes rolled upwards. “I tell him I need a beeper. I need a car phone, and next month I need it turned on. I need some tires for my car, and I need my windows tinted.”

Ginger laughed playfully. “Go on, girl.”

“Look. I got what he wants. We both know it. He’s got enough sense to say no if the price is too high, don’t you think?”

“Amen,” said Ginger, giggling.

“And I’m going to reward him generously.” She gave Ginger a provocative stare. “And don’t let him get me a CD player. Have mercy. He’ll really get it good then.”

Ginger couldn’t contain her laughter. “You’re scandalous, girl.”

“Just call me an enterprising woman.” She went to the front door. “It’ll probably take Bill ’til Christmas time next year to buy me everything I want. He’s so tight. He watches every dime. He’s almost worse than I am. But,” she said, lifting a single finger, “he’s got several investors backing his clinic so he won’t have to spend any of his savings.” She kissed Ginger on the cheek. Then suddenly a coldness passed over her face for a fleeting moment before she turned the handle on the front door.

“You worried about Jackson?” asked Kim, cracking the door.

Ginger hoped Kim would understand her feelings without being too judgmental. “A little. I’ve always tried to include him in all my business ideas, hoping we could run a business together one day. . . . He doesn’t seem to share my same enthusiasm. He’s so intelligent, he could go so far if . . .”

Pushing the door closed, Kim shut out the cold air before turning back to her sulking cousin. She cocked her head sideways and said, “Why do women insist on loving men for what they want them to be, instead of what they are?”

A surprised look came over Ginger’s face. Kim hugged her, tied the belt on her leather coat, and left. She wanted to say more but felt it was better to let Ginger do a bit of soul searching on her own before she bombarded her with all her theories about men and marriage.

Kim had heard on numerous occasions from Ginger about how intelligent Jackson was. How articulate and what potential he had. But Kim knew that what Ginger had failed to take into consideration was the fact that the potential you see in other people, especially your mate, doesn’t mean anything if they have no desire to climb any farther than the level at which they are comfortable. Knowing Jackson, Kim thought, with his quiet ways, his love of television and the easygoing life, he was quite comfortable, indeed.