Authors: Eric Pete

Reality Check (8 page)

BOOK: Reality Check

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Max

I was tempted to call Diane over the weekend, but decided it was best to put that whole production behind me. Man, I needed a lady out here on the regular. Someone to keep it real for me, and for whom I could do the same.

I never gave Smitty the whole story about Friday night. I felt terrible about almost going along with Jay, and I didn’t want Smit to know what an ass he was. Jay was blood and had done right by me since I moved here, so I knew we would be talking eventually.

Just not now.

The late shift at Denny’s came and went Monday with no Jay and no problems. Although dead tired, I forced myself awake the next morning. It was my off day, so no better time to resume my job search. This time we would focus on downtown.

After getting the cold out of my eyes, I pulled my best interview suit from the closet. It was still covered in plastic from the dry cleaner after my last futile attempt. I fished my black dress shoes out of the back of the closet and dusted them off.

On my coffee table, I arranged my resumes along with some generic cover letters. I’d printed a map from Map quest, circling places I planned on targeting. While searching online, I’d noticed the State of California was hiring as well, so I had to hit the Employment Development Department also.

I stepped out of my door with briefcase in hand, ready to take on the world. The navy blue with gray pinstripes was hitting, with my burgundy silk tie and white Perry Ellis showing from beneath.

Smitty was waiting by my car, holding a folder containing his paperwork. He was pacing there in his white but-ton-down, salt-and-pepper slacks, and gray-and-black tie. He’d joke about it, but I could tell he was uncomfortable dressed like this.

The things we do to get paid. At least it was legal. Right about now, I was prepared to put on a chicken costume if a nice crib and some money in the bank came along with it.

“Check you out, Maxwell. Lookin’ like you own the fuckin’ company.”

“One day. One can hope, my brother.”

Getting a late start, traffic was smooth coming in on I-10 heading east. We planned to bum-rush the CBD and try to get into as many places as possible. More planning and networking would have been a good idea, but I was getting desperate. And desperation was just what I needed to step up my game.

I glanced at my map of downtown again, focusing on the circles I’d drawn. Smitty had his own list he was following, so the plan was to go straight through lunch then meet back at the car that afternoon.

My aim was to just get a foot in the door, maybe at an entry-level position, then work my way up to management. I wasn’t picky about the type of business. I just knew I didn’t want to return home to Louisiana as some kind of failure.

I hit up the Gas Company Tower first. Its unique architecture stood out, like money was comfortable being inside it. From my research, I knew businesses like Nalcon, Intrix, and Barnes & Greenwood, which I’d heard of in college, were housed in there. I tried not being impressed or overwhelmed by the success amassed around me, but I couldn’t hide the grin plastered on my face.

All I needed was a chance.

I went over to the building index and formed a plan to cover as many businesses as possible in here. I was sure to face a lot of rejection and maybe get thrown out by security, but it wouldn’t kill my spirit. I began with Nalcon on the forty-eighth floor. Might as well start at the top, or near it.

I did some people-watching downstairs as I waited for the elevator to descend. A middle-aged Asian woman in a black business suit politely smiled at me as she walked by. From her smile, I couldn’t tell if she was simply being friendly or whether she was acknowledging the outsider in their midst. The elevator opened and I boarded it along with five other passengers: present were a Hispanic courier with a radio on his hip, a middle-aged Hispanic gentleman in a gray business suit, a thin white lady in a red business suit, a younger tanned white girl all in blue, and a bald brother in an olive-colored suit.

“‘Sup,” I said to the brother, acknowledging him. Good to know there’s hope out there.

“Hello,” he said weakly. Okay.

Judging by his suit, he was doing really well—or he was fronting and in debt. I first noticed him when we were down in the lobby. Mr. Clean was posted up, holding a conversation with the girl in blue. I wasn’t being nosey, but could tell he was trying to calm her down about something.

I guess they’d made up on the ride up, because they stole a quick kiss before getting off together on the fortieth floor. Office romance, I presumed.

Whatever.

Nalcon accepted my resume and allowed me to complete an application. Nothing promised, but then again, nothing squashed either. Other businesses in the building, like Barnes & Greenwood, weren’t hiring, or least told me that. All I could do was hope the phone call would come.

I was drained by the time the afternoon rolled around, but Smitty still looked energized when he met me by the car.

“I got an interview next week!” my little friend taunted. He’d already loosened his tie and looked like he was ready to celebrate. I was ready to crawl back under my covers. Can’t say I wasn’t happy for him, but his success magnified my lack of results today.

“Congrats, man,” I said, giving him a lazy high-five. “With who?”

“West-tel, dawg. Mail and file, but it pays lot more than what I make now at Costco. And I can move up. I know I still gotta get past the interview, but it seems almost like a sure thing, y’know. How’d things go with you?”

“Nothing certain, bro. But enough about me; let’s get out of here and celebrate!”

I yanked off my tie and threw it in the backseat of the car along with my briefcase and jacket. We were down Sixth Street and already clowning when I remembered that I hadn’t picked up a state employment application.

“I guess I can pick that up another day.”

“Man, you better pick up that app now. Remember, the deadline is this Friday. And you see how mugs is outta work. Besides, that may be your lucky break.”

“Sure. Lucky.” I chuckled. “I’d forgotten about the deadline.”

I turned the Corolla around and headed for First Street. To my right, I spotted the
Los Angeles Times
building first, then saw the employment office in its shadow. Smitty decided to recline in the car while I ran in to pick up an app.

The office was almost empty when I walked in. No employees in sight, which reminded me of the office back home. If applications were handy, I would have simply picked one up and headed out the door.

They weren’t, though.

I waited at the counter for a couple of minutes, hoping Smitty wasn’t fucking with my radio outside. I was about to head out the door in frustration when I caught a glimpse of someone zipping by in the back.

“Excuse me!” I hollered in the general direction of the blur I saw. The blur slowed then hesitated.

And what a blur it was.

Out walked this gorgeous piece of womanhood. Around five foot six, light brown, with the eyes to match, she wore a gold jacket and skirt that really showed just how fine she was. Her brown hair had some highlights in it, with this stray piece that dangled over one eye. Don’t know if it was intentional, but it pointed almost perfectly to this little beauty mark on her cheek.

Yep, I was taking it all in.

No longer a blur, she opened her lovely mouth, asking, “Can I help you?”

“Um,” I fumbled, blanking out for a second. “Hi. I need an application.”

“For ... ?” The look on her face told me she didn’t have time for this. I was on the receiving end of a little bit of attitude.

“For the state jobs,” I answered, hoping she knew what I meant. “I was told they could be picked up at any of the Employment Development Department Offices?” I phrased my statement like a question in hopes that it would make a light bulb go off in her head.

“Oh, okay. I don’t normally work up here. The girl called in sick today and another one quit. I’ll try to find it for you.” Her tone softened. Good. She probably had her mind on other things. She looked behind the counter and came up with the application in hand.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t forget, it needs to be in by this Friday.” Aww. The beautiful one could be courteous and helpful when given a chance.

“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t forget. I need some work,” I said with a chuckle.

“Well, I hope you find the work you’re looking for,” she playfully replied. No she didn’t. The remark seemed almost flirtatious.

Almost.

But the rock on her finger told me otherwise.

Oh, well.

Strange, though. I would have thought someone with ice like that on her finger would be waving it around more. I’d caught a glimpse of it when she came up with the application and it almost blinded me.

“Later,” I replied, excusing myself. For my own amusement, I imagined her eyes on me as I headed out the door.

Yeah. Right.

Cheap thrills mean nothing.

I looked back to confirm that I was just being a silly little kid.

Correct.

There was the empty counter again. The blur had gone back to being a blur, and I was left a simple idiot.

Glover

I returned from Miami officially engaged. Really engaged. And I had the ring to prove it. All of Lionel’s planning stood revealed. He had more than the proposal mapped out, as I found out later that evening. We had gone for a walk on the beach after dinner. Following the surf and sand, we returned to the room, where we made love.

I’ll tell you now, I’ve never faked an orgasm my entire time with Lionel—until that night.

As Lionel cradled me in his arms, I cried. They weren’t tears of joy, as Lionel probably figured. As I lay there, emotional, he informed me of his (and his mom’s) wedding plans.

Catalina Island.

It was the first place Lionel had taken me. He had already talked it over with his mother, Adele, and she was on hand to arrange everything for us once we selected a date. Hell, she would probably rent the whole fucking island. I knew she would have preferred a traditional church wedding with bells and all, being a Dunning, but Lionel knew how I felt about churches. My mom was supposed to be here for this.

“When do you want to do it, baby?” he’d asked.

I was still numb as I stared down at the diamond on my finger, and I blurted out, “No time like the present.” What happened between my mom and dad wasn’t me. This was going to work.

We were to be married in three months.

When the limo returned me to my apartment late Monday night, I had no idea of the roller-coaster in store for me on Tuesday.

I returned to work to find that one of the girls had walked off the job the day before and another was out sick. My desk overflowed with stacks of files, and I was to be wed in three months.

Tuesday felt more like a Monday than Monday ever could.

Mona and Charmaine rushed to my desk before I even had a chance to put my purse down.

Mona squinted at me disapprovingly. “Bitch, you came in last night and didn’t even call to tell me? Let me see that ring!”

I held it up for them to see. Charmaine was silent for a full four seconds.

A new record.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

“Oh my gawd! OMG! OMG! OMG! The size of that diamond. Do you know how much this must have cost?”

“I do,” Mona chimed in. An avid collector/ recipient of diamonds and such, she probably did know.

“C’mon, y’all. It’s just an engagement ring,” I said, trying to convince myself. The immense piece of ice on my hand was a sobering reality that made me more self-conscious the more I tried to ignore it.

“Okay, okay. Enough about the ring. How many times did you do the nasty? Do you have a date set? We want the dirt.” Charmaine cackled with delight. Mona actually agreed with her this time.

“I’m not answering your first question, you nasty wench. As for your other question, well, the wedding’s going to be in Catalina ... in three months.”

“Oh,” they answered in stereo, caught off guard with the announcement. Mona and I exchanged looks that spoke of our conversation at her condo that Friday night.

“Whew. All this work.” I sighed in an effort to change the subject.

“C’mon, Charmaine. Let Glover catch her breath. We’ll holler at you later, girl,” Mona said, letting me off the hook for now.

The rest of the day was less than peachy. Mr. Marx, the office supervisor, was on the warpath with us being understaffed. In addition to playing catch-up on my own desk, I was expected to fill in wherever needed. That, combined with the jet lag, did not make for a happy Glover.

Yep, a lot of shit on my mind.

Lionel called me from his office to see if I was up for lunch. I took a raincheck, needing to clear my desk as well as my head. Besides, we had a lifetime ahead of us. In a futile attempt to catch up, I decided to work through lunch. Charmaine and Mona, having no such notions, trekked off to do some shopping.

Lunch came and went in a blur. I was deep into my work while simultaneously lost in thought.

Did I love Lionel?

What’s an extra stapler doing on my desk? Who’s been sitting here?

Did I really love him?

These files don’t belong here. But where do they belong?

He never gave me any reason to doubt his love, so what was wrong with me?

Now, why couldn’t somebody return this call? That is pure lazy.

I guess I had issues.

“Excuse me!” he yelled as I stormed past the front of the office. Somebody had come in from off the street.

Damn.

I didn’t work the front and wasn’t up for the grief that came with it. I slowed down, considering whether I should keep on walking to the other side of the office. He didn’t
really
see me anyway. I moved too fast when I got wound up.

That wasn’t my style, though. I broke off from the direction I was heading and approached the front counter.

The voice belonged to one pretty good-looking brother. He was medium brown, not as tall as Lionel, but with some little bulges beneath his white dress shirt. I wondered briefly about another bulge that might lurk in his navy blue slacks.

Briefly.

He looked like he’d had a rough day at the office. Believe me, I felt him on that. I felt his tired eyes all over me as I approached, but he had something different in his accompanying earnest smile. Seemed a little less “wolflike” than most men, if there is such a thing these days. Strangely, it reminded me of the first encounter with Lionel.

“Can I help you?”

“Um, hi. I need an application.” He seemed a tad slow, and I had work to do.

“For ... ?”

He told me he was looking for the state employment applications. I apologized for not knowing where things were and explained about our being short-staffed and stuff. I really don’t know why I volunteered all that info. I found the application and handed it to him, reminding him of the Friday deadline and options for online filing.

“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t forget. I need the work,” he replied with that smile. He laughed, but it didn’t hide the exhaustion behind it. Poor thing.

“Well, I hope you find the work you’re looking for,” gushed from my mouth before my mind caught up. Why did I say that? My intention was to just be courteous, but it came out playful, almost kittenish. His facial expression didn’t change, so I was relieved I hadn’t embarrassed myself.

Unless that was his poker face.

“Later,” he said as he took the application from my hand and departed. My eyes went to lock in on his ass, but his shirt had come out of his pants in the back, blocking the view of his bum. I lingered at the counter for a second more for less than noble reasons. I was grinning—until I looked down at the weight on my hand.

And on my soul.

Time to be a big girl again, as reality kicked in. He did have a nice smile, though, and I appreciated the brief escape from my issues, but it was time to finish the task I was doing prior to “smiley” interrupting me.

I moved on to the back, taking one last peek before he made it out the door.

Hmm. I never got his name.

Good.

BOOK: Reality Check

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