Until (13 page)

“Grace? You dating a client?” Drew asked.

“Naw. Well, at least not yet,” she said. “But possibly in the future. He's going to renegotiate this spring and he thinks they're going to give him a seven-figure deal. At least that's what his agent says. So if he gets it, I'll see if I can get him to invest a little with us.”

“Seven figures. I like the sound of that,” Peggy said.

“Tell me about it. But he's not what I expected at all,” Grace said, and took another wing from the box. As soon as she did, Drew pulled it back to his side of the desk, which left a greasy skid mark. “When we first met, I thought he was just looking for a hootchie. You know, just a little bit of fun. But I didn't give it up and I think it threw his game off. Now he's cool. We have a lot of fun together.”

“Do you all go out much?” Peggy asked, tugging the box
away from Drew and cleaning the spot with a tissue from his tissue box. “I mean dancing and all?”

“I know what you're getting at, and he's cool with it. I thought he just had a brown-sugar fantasy myself when he first spoke to me, but he's not like that at all. Deep inside Jason wants to be a brother. He grew up near South Central, you know. Actually, I don't think he's ever even dated a white girl.”

“So you're dating Jason Riggs?” Drew asked. “Who plays for the Jaguars?”

“Damn, Drew, you work too much. They've been dating about a month. But tell me this,” Peggy asked as she spread out her tissue and took three drumettes from the box. “This is your first time dating a white guy, right? How is it?”

“Actually, there's no difference. I thought there would be at first. I mean he's cute and got a butt just like a brother. But I won't lie, I saw the dollar signs at first. I saw all the brothers who left sisters after they made it and I thought, I'll string this white boy out and score one for the sisters, right? But then, well, after a while . . . I dunno.”

“You falling in love, Grace? Not you. Not Mrs. A-White-Boy-Can't-Do-Nothing-But-Bring-Me-a-Brother!” Peggy laughed.

“See, that's the part I don't understand. No, I don't love him. Let me set that straight. I love the lifestyle, I love the cars and the attention. And hell, I'll admit it, I love the sex. But right now that's about it.”

“Well, take it slow is all I can say,” Drew replied, and looked at Peggy's tightly crossed legs. “You know, you shouldn't sit like that, Peg.”

“Why?”

“Because it causes varicose veins.”

“Child, please,” she said, then looked back at Grace. “I've been crossing my legs since I don't know how long. My momma used to sit like this for years and . . .” And then she looked at her legs and back at Drew and slowly uncrossed them. “Grace, as I was going to say, forget all that other stuff, honey. What's happening in the bedroom? Is what they say about white guys true?”

“I don't know about white men, but as far as Jason is
concerned, the man is the bomb. He has no—and when I say no, I mean
no
—inhibitions, girl. And to me that's new. But you know what he does that just kills me every time? Whenever I sleep over, he always wakes me up with kisses on my face.”

“Ohh, I love that,” Peggy sighed. “Walter used to do that too. To me that is so romantic.”

With a look up from his lunch, Drew said, “Kisses on the face, huh? I'll have to remember that one.”

“I know!” Grace shouted like a teenager at a slumber party. “Know what else?” she said in a lower tone. “He always kisses right here,” she said, and pointed to her chin. “And then again here,” she said, pointing to both cheeks, “and the last two kisses he saves for my eyelids. There is
nothing,
and I mean
nothing,
like a soft kiss on the eyelids after making love the previous night.”

“Well, if you all continue, remember one thing. Don't ever let him stop dating you. Men forget that after they got you. I must admit that for the most part, Walter and I still date. We just don't allow it to get old.”

“You guys have been married how long?” Grace asked.

“Sixteen years in about three months. And I love him more now then I did when we got married.” As she spoke, Drew glanced up from the memo he was reading. “I used to hear people talk about how they had kids and then the romance stopped, but with Walt it was never like that. I guess because he was married before or maybe because he's so much older. If anything, we fell deeper in love than ever before once we had Todd and Tray.”

“Really?” Drew asked.

“Without a doubt. I think it's because we fell in love so slowly. It took forever for him to believe I loved him for him. That I didn't give a damn about his money and all. You know, because of his weight, he had very low self-esteem that you would never realize unless you knew him well. But he has worked hard on the weight. In fact, just this morning I looked at the scale,” she said with a proud smile, “and he's less than three hundred for the first time in years. I know it means a lot to him to lose the weight, so I am happy for him. But you know,” she said, looking
through the wing tips for another drumette, “I didn't marry him for the way he would fit in a Speedo or for his money. I married him because I loved him. Point-blank.”

“That's sweet. You know Mr. and Mrs. Shepard?” Drew asked as Grace sighed.

“No.”

“Yes you do. Bill and Gladys Shepard? Live out on Seventeenth Street, next to that restaurant that's so raggedy you need to bring your own chair if you want to dine in?”

“I know the restaurant. The food there is hitting, but no, I don't know them,” Peggy said as she ate another drumette and then stared at Drew's Coke.

“Don't even think about it,” he said, and moved the can to the credenza. “You know Mr. and Mrs. Shepard, who had a son that got in an accident a few years ago?”

“I don't know any Mr. and Mrs. Shepard, Drew, damn!” She looked at Grace and laughed.

“Yes, you do. But anyway, Mr. Shepard had three strokes and a heart attack within the past three years. He's mean as hell, can't control his bowel movements, sleeps about four hours a night, can't walk without his walker and somebody watching him, blind in one eye, and on top of that, he tries to get physical with his wife. He even smacked her one time in front of me. But,” Drew said, “although she complains about not sleeping, she'll tell you in a second, ‘
That's
my husband. We've been married forty-five years and that's my husband.' Now, that's love. The words ‘till death do us part' really meant something to her. That's the kinda love I wanted to have one day with Felicia,” he said, and looked at the picture of them on his desk taken in the Cayman Islands.

“You'll find it, sweet pea. I know what you're going through. You remember how many trifling brothers I had to sort through to find this one. And when I met the old man I had no idea I would not only love him, but like him as much as I do. Now we're best friends. Can you imagine standing in front of God and saying to your very best friend, ‘I will love you until the day I die'?”

After another sigh, Grace said, “I always like hearing you talk about Walt. It's nice to hear about a marriage that works every now and then.”

“I feel blessed. Very blessed.” Then looking at Drew, Peggy continued, “Drew, you know something? I never heard how you and Felicia met.”

“Me either,” Grace said, grabbing two more wings and settling in for the story.

“I thought I told both of you. I was working on that proposal for the city, and she worked in the clerical pool. I saw her that day and I never said anything. Later that day I saw her shopping in Ann Taylor with her friends. I just sorta walked by because she had her back turned and I waited to get something for dinner in the eatery before an appointment later that afternoon. So that same night, I'm in a club and she walks up behind me and tells me I should stop following her. We started talking and next thing I knew, it was three in the morning. She was a little aggressive at first, but later I thought it was cute.”

“Meaning?” Grace asked, and flicked a small pile of bones wrapped in a tissue into the trash can.

“Well, she gave me her number on the back of a business card. She made the first move. I usually don't like that. But thinking back, if she had not, we may have never gotten together.”

“So it was like fate, huh?” Grace said with another sigh in her voice. “You guys have fairy-tale stories.”

With a stretch as he stood, he said, “Yeah, and in a way I guess it was just that.” Then he opened the door to go to the rest room to wash his hands. As he walked down the hallway, he noticed a lady admiring the awards the firm had garnered on display in the reception area. “I'm sorry, ma'am, we didn't hear you walk in. Let me get the receptionist.”

She was professionally dressed, average in height and size, and her hair was pinned up. She looked at Drew and said with a smile that made him weak, “Thanks.”

Drew cracked the door to his office, where Grace and Peggy were laughing, and said, “Shhh, we have company in the front.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Grace said, and leaped up to greet the prospective client.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Drew asked Peggy as he returned to his side of the desk.

“No. Not until two.”

“Umm, well, there's a sister in there.”

“Real big eyes? Dark-skinned? Kinda long hair?”

“Yeah. You know her?”

“Sounds like it could be my two-o'clock. She must have gotten the times mixed up.”

“Umm. She's cute,” Drew said as he moved his mouse slowly along the pad and gazed into his computer screen.

“You think so?” Peggy said with an inquisitive smile. “I know for a fact that she's available.”

Drew tightened his lips and shook his head with a not-interested gesture and then said, “I just got a letter that I need to meet with Felicia's attorney in a few weeks for a reading of her will.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I never knew she had a will. I didn't think she took the time to get one. I wonder what she had to disburse.”

“Well, sometimes there could be small things like books or her clothes. Sometimes people just leave their last thoughts to their loved ones.”

Grace opened the door and poked her head in. “All right, guys, break it up in here. Peg, you have a guest. A Miss Zelma McGrady?”

With a look at her watch, Peggy said, “Yep, that's her. She's an hour early,” as Grace went back to the front of the office.

“Who is she again?” Drew asked. “Is she from Con-National?”

“Yes. She's the comptroller I've been telling you about. Con-Nat recruited her from a big-six firm in Manhattan and she's sharp. They use about ten firms for their benefits programs and they need a few minority contracts, so she's giving us a shot.”

“How good are our chances?” he said, breaking eye contact with the monitor.

“Ahh, she's sitting out there an hour early, isn't she? And soon enough I want to introduce you to her. I think you'll
really like her. Just your type. Petite, sophisticated, and intelligent.”

Drew smiled. “Go take care of your customer, Peggy.”

Drew sat in his office talking on the phone with a client in Jamaica, with his back to the door, taking notes. As he swiveled around toward his desk drawer for a Post-it note, he noticed Zelma standing in his doorway. “One second, Mr. Abracromibi,” he said to the party on the phone, and with a smile he said, “Can I help you, madam?”

“Go ahead,” she said, twirling her thick gold and silver Mont Blanc around her fire-engine red fingernails. “I'll wait.”

“It may be a while.”

“Don't worry, I have time.” She smiled.

I don't have time to deal with this now.
“Okay,” he said with a smile, and went back to his conversation.

As he spoke, she walked into his office, sat in front of him, and looked at each certificate and degree on the wall. There was a photograph of him and several local celebrities as well as one of him and a U.S. senator. She also noticed the picture on his desk turned toward him. With a motion for his attention, she mouthed the words
May I?
as she reached for the lacquer frame.

Drew nodded his head with a respectful smile and then swiveled in his chair and looked again outside the window at the passing cars while he spoke to his client. Drew could see in the window's reflection that Zelma smiled at the photo of Drew and Felicia, and then placed it softly back on the desk in the spot from which she had removed it.

As he spoke of going to Washington, D.C., to lobby for a change in the tax codes regarding his industry, all he could think of was a delicate way to tell her to back off, that he did not want to get involved with anyone until he got over Felicia. He wanted to think of a way to tell her that although their relationship had at times been strained, she had left a void in his life, that since she had died, she was never far from his mind. Maybe it was the guilt of the last words on her lips being, “You're so selfish. Leave and don't come back here any damn more!” Whatever it was, the pain of
life without Felicia was too deep for him to consider starting over before he could somehow close this door to his past.

After she looked at her watch, Zelma got Drew's attention with her smile and waved her business card in his direction. When he looked up, she left it on the desk and waved good-bye.

As the door closed, Drew reached for the gold-embossed card and noticed she was in fact the senior comptroller for the large conglomerate. He also noticed she had left just a wisp of her perfume on it, and on the back she had written her home, beeper and, cellular phone numbers with the words “I think you have a really nice smile. I'd love to see it again soon.”
Damn! Here we go.