Until (8 page)

Betty was insulted, but almost laughed as he made the ludicrous comments and ended with the words “by golly.”

O'Shaughnessy added, with a cock of the head and a gap-toothed grin, “You see, darling, the only thing America owes any of us is an opportunity. This is the land of opportunity. If you work hard in America, you can accomplish anything you want. I'm living proof of that. I never noticed that plaque over there. Did you just get it?”

“No. I mean yes,” Betty said. “It's the Charlotte Rae award given each year by BALSA.”

“I know her. She's from New York, I think. Queens to be exact. She used to play in that sitcom with the cute little col—I mean
African-American
kid. ‘Diff'rent Strokes' or something. Did she give them some money or something?”

With a quiet sigh Betty said, “No. She's the first female African-American attorney in the United States. She was a corporate litigator and had to close her doors because she could not get work, but I want to go back to what you said earlier.” Betty had to decide quickly,
Do I rip his heart out and leave him for dead or do I take out a scalpel and delicately remove his organs, one by one?
She chose the latter as the waves dissipated in her tea. O'Shaughnessy leaned back and crossed his long legs with a condescending smile on his lips.

Betty leaned to the side in her chair, swiveled silently between the ten- and two-o'clock positions, and said, “You know, I really do appreciate the compliment you gave me, George.” Her mind moved quickly for the words, the right words.

O'Shaughnessy smiled and tipped his head as if to say
thank you,
but unbeknownst to him, he had walked into the abyss.

“But I can't believe you could sit here, with a straight face, and tell me you do not see the need for affirmative action. You're an educated man, George.” She rose from her chair, turned her back on him, and looked down on the city below. “Do you know about the forty-acres-and-a-mule agreement made with the former
so-called
slaves after they were freed? It was referred to at the time as ‘special order fifteen.'”

“Now, Betty, with all due respect, that stuff happened—what—two, three hundred years ago by people—”

“So you are aware of it?” She turned to look at him. “You know that a parcel of land which extended from South Carolina down to Jacksonville was given to the freed slaves and that
President
Andrew Johnson not only took it away from them, he gave it back to the Confederacy? The same army who months earlier killed his sons in battle? He gave it back to the army he had just defeated. And I am sure, George, you would say since it happened so long ago by people who have long since left this earth, we should forget about it, correct?”

“No, I was just—”

“But,” she said, and cut him off again with a thrust of her hand into the air, “allow me to tell you, there are some things people should
never
forget. Imagine, if you would, a marathon. Now, imagine the gun going off and one runner being set free to run, while the other is held back. Imagine the runner running seven, eight, or nine miles before the other runner is set free. He is already behind nine miles. Don't you think it would be easy for this runner to just give up? Would you look at this race at the halfway mark and say, oh well, he was held back, but that is out of our hands now? We have no responsibility for the injustices he experienced at the starting gate? Of course you wouldn't, George, because I know you, and I know you to be both a fair and learned man.”

O'Shaughnessy smiled and sunk lower in his chair.

“So you see,
African-Americans
will catch up, don't get me wrong. And
African-Americans
will not quit. We are too strong a people for that. The race is not over for us. It will take time, George, but African-Americans, as a whole,
will
catch up. And you know something else?” she continued with a slight twinkle in her eye as she smiled. “There are just some things we will never forget.”

“I follow. But look at you, Betty,” O'Shaughnessy said as he sat forward with his arms folded tight across his barrel chest. “You are a perfect example, because with your background, whatever it is, and with me and where I come from, we are both associates in one of the top firms in the country. Look at Clay Bancroft, or better yet, Raymond. Everybody knows that R. Raymond Patterson's family has more money than God Almighty, and yet we are all equals. We make practically the same money. You're Black, I mean an
African-American
girl, and R. Raymond and I are white. So obviously,” he said with his palms held open to Betty, “it
can
be done without quotas and with good old-fashioned American hard work. See where I'm coming from? Did you need a quota to get into the law school at UF?”

“George,” she said, and stood in front of her chair as she ignored yet another sexist and obtuse comment delivered with a chuckle. “First of all, like I said, African-Americans
as a whole
will catch up.” And then she paused, as if to shift gears, and continued, “Secondly, George, if all things were fair and equal, no, I wouldn't be here.”

A question mark appeared on O'Shaughnessy's wrinkled brow.

“With my education and dollars generated to this firm, I'd be a partner now and on my way to the governor's mansion.” She plopped down in her chair on the word
mansion,
to drive home the point with a smile.

After a thorny silence, O'Shaughnessy flashed his toothy grin. “Point taken. Well,” he said as he stood and brushed the wrinkles from his jeans before he reached for the doorknob, “I think I'll leave a note in Sampkins's box. We need to get started on that Subaru case.”

“Ahh, George? Is that why you wanted to get together for lunch Monday?”

“Oh. Oh no,” he said as he looked at the pink slip of paper between her fingers. “No, no, we were going to ask you a couple of questions about a civil case that was similar to that Biradial Foods case you worked on a few years ago.
That's all. But Phillip Sheridan answered our questions last night.”

Betty crumpled the memo, put on her glasses, and skipped the opportunity to comer him with a lie.

“I'll tell Sampkins to thank his lucky stars he's not going to go against you in court, sugar,” O'Shaughnessy said, and laughed as he closed her door.

Betty thought as she shook her head,
So you wanted me to be the token Negro attorney in the Subaru case, huh? Oh, you tried my natural soul that time.

Betty and Carol searched for files and related documents for an hour to prepare for a large lawsuit filed against a hardware store by the parents of a kid who'd been hit by a truck driven by one of their delivery men who had been drinking on the job. After she located all of the files, Betty got a fresh cup of cocoa and settled in to finally get some work done. Fifteen minutes into her reading of a motion appeal filed by the company's attorney, there was yet another knock on her door.

“Yes!” she said in her driest, most frustrated voice. This time she removed her spectacles and leaned back on the desk she sat in front of Indian style.

“It's me, girl; calm down,” Jacqui said as she opened the door and dropped her bag on Betty's antique oak desk.

“Thank goodness.”

“Why? What the hell's going on here today? I've never seen that many cars outside this place on the weekend.”

“Child, let me tell you; this place has been beyond crazy. Murphy is in the hospital, apparently with a heart attack. You know he was always in perfect health.”

“I know,” Jacqui replied with her mouth open. “I used to see him jogging every Saturday morning when I came by here from Books for Thought. As a matter of fact, I looked for him this morning. Where is he?”

“North Florida General. Apparently he's still in ICU and they're only allowing his immediate family to see him. I just found out about it this morning.”

“Oh, snap. It happened yesterday? But we were in here. You mean to tell me these jerks didn't tell you?”

“No, no. Remember, we were in and out so fast we didn't see anyone. There was no one at the reception counter when we came in or when we left.”

“Oh yeah. That's right.”

“Carol tried to call me, but what with the move, the answering machine didn't pick up. But this morning,” Betty said as she cupped her mouth and spoke lower, “she told me that the vultures are already circling for position.”

Jacqui got up to close the door so they could speak without being overheard and sat on the edge of Betty's desk. “So what does this do to the partnership opportunities here for you?”

“Well, really, Jac, I haven't thought about it. I mean, I'm just hoping the man survives.”

“Yada, yada, yada. Whatever, whatever. I understand all that, girl, but you better watch out for yourself in a place like this. I don't trust none of them here. You're working in a den of straight-up thieves. I bet you there're more than a few of these assholes praying the man—”

“Jacqui!”

“Well, it's true, girl. You got a good heart and all, and I admire you for that. I couldn't put up with them. A job like this is like spandex, it's just not for everybody. But Jack Murphy, God bless him and all, got your head all full of this money-as-a-servant stuff, and that's nice. But this is the real deal. Welcome to reality. You better watch your back before one of them starts greasing the skids for you.”

“But, Jac, Murphy is one of the top attorneys in the country. And this man has taken me under his wing. I know his wife, his kids, and you can't put a value on that. I mean, I know Renfro has his issues to deal with, and believe me, that whole good-ole-boy system they play here gets old. But there is a method to my madness.”

Picking at her fingernails, Jacqui said, “As Billie Holiday said, ‘Mother may have and
Murphy
may have, but God bless the child that has his own, and I am through with that.'”

“Oh well,” Betty said as she got up and sat on the edge of her desk beside Jacqui's Fendi purse. “You make a good
point. Trust me, I understand where you are coming from, especially with what happened yesterday.”

“Got an idea for you. Let's eat.”

“I thought you'd never ask,” Betty said, happy to end the conversation. As she dropped her files, cut off her reading lamp, and grabbed her purse, she said, “Maybe getting away awhile will clear my head a little. Oh yeah, child, don't let me forget to tell you about the discussion I just had with O'Shaughnessy. That fool is a trip.”

As they walked
into Jacquetta's, Betty waved and spoke to the family members she knew. Jacqui was greeted at the door by her cousin with a handful of receipts and messages from the night before. Apparently the cash drawer was off, and Jacqui had informed them that if the register was over or under by even one cent, she wanted to know about it. While it was a family business, she drove home the point that this was a business first and foremost. It was not personal. She'd even had to fire a cousin who she
thought
was on drugs, which made an uncle upset, but she'd felt that was a price she would have to pay in such an undertaking.

Jacqui finally joined Betty, who was seated at a booth stirring a beverage and watching people come in and out of the restaurant. “They were off again last night.”

“How much?”

“That's not important. The receipts should
always
balance. What are you drinking?”

“Iced tea.”

“Willie Mae,” Jacqui shouted, and looked over her shoulder. “Bring me some tea, sweetheart.” Willie Mae was another cousin of Jacqui's and about ten years older then she, but she jumped to attention as if she were a child at the beck and call of a parent.

“Let's go in my office where we can talk,” Jacqui said,
getting out of the booth. “Willie Mae, bring it in the office honey, okay?”

“Awright.”

After she closed the door, Betty took off her shoes, sank into her usual spot on the sofa, and buried her toes in the cushions. “When you gonna hire somebody in this place unrelated to you? You know Isaac is still with the state's attorney's office. One call from me and he'll bring you up on discriminatory hiring practices. Make you hire some white folk up in here.”

“Please. I don't need any problems. I'll hire some white folk when those Chinese food joints on every corner in this neighborhood hire some black or white folk. Besides, I started to hire one little sister, but she had too many gotsnos,” Jacqui said, looking through her mail.

“As in gotsno man and gotsno car? You told me that jacked-up joke two weeks ago.”

“Shuddup. So you still stay in contact with Isaac?”

“Yeah, he's cool. He even sent me a few clients. He got married about a year ago, you know. Has a little girl named Rain.”

“Damn,” Jacqui said as she looked down at the paperwork on her desk. “Isaac married a white girl, huh.”

“Is it that obvious? Child named Rain Kadesah Holmes. Now, that's jacked up. But guess who tried to talk to me in the grocery store last week. Billy Jefferson.”

“Really. What does he look like now'days? I remember in college he used to look kinda rough. Ain't never combed his hair. Always used to look tired. Like a runaway slave or something.”

“He ain't changed a bit,” Betty said, and shook her head in disgust as she slipped a peppermint candy from the nearby dish into her mouth. “Girl, he looked broker than the Ten Commandments, and believe it or not, remember how he used to smell kinda gamey? Well, he smells worse now. And he looked just as rusty as ever, like he needed a Jurgeons IV. Hey, I got a joke for you. Evander told me this one a couple of weeks ago. What do you have when you have twenty thousand attorneys at the bottom of the ocean?”

Laughing at Betty, Jacqui said, “A damn good start! That's from the Denzel movie. Umm,
Philadelphia.
Let me hit you with this one. A woman asks this young attorney if he's honest. So the kid says, yes ma'am. I am
so
honest, in fact, I borrowed ten thousand dollars from my dad for law school and paid him back right after my first big case. So the woman said, that's impressive. What kinda case was it? And the kid said, well ahh, umm, my dad kinda sued me for ten thousand dollars.”

“Okay, okay, you got me again,” Betty said with a laugh.

“Girl, you never could tell a joke. I don't know why you even try. Thanks, honey,” Jacqui said to Willie Mae, who walked in with her tea. “Are we getting busy out there?”

“A little. Not too much for us to handle, though.”

“If it gets too busy, call me. Oh yeah,” she said before Willie Mae left, “bring us back a couple of cheeseburgers and some fries. Kenny knows how to cook them.”

“Okay. Oh, Jacqui? There's a guy out here named John. Said he wanted to talk to you when you got a minute?”

“Is it John Rivers? Big, tall dude? About six six?”

“I don't know what his last name is, but he is tall,” Willie Mae answered.

Jacqui turned away and looked at Betty. With a twist of her lip she said to Willie Mae, “Tell him I left out the back.”

“Okay,” Willie Mae said, and shuffled back into the dining area.

“So tell me, what's up with you and
Vander
? That's what you calling him, right? You subscribing to
Brides
magazine yet?”

“Is that good-looking John
Superman
Rivers? Who used to play basketball for Grambling or something?”

“Please. If John even looked up the word
fine
in a dictionary it would say ‘NOT YOU.' I guess you haven't seen him recently. Instead of calling him Superman, they ought to call him Breakfast, Lunch, and
Supper
Man.”

“Put on a few pounds, huh? I thought you liked him. Works for FedEx or something, doesn't he?”

“Betty, Supper Man has not worked at FedEx in over a year. He's working as a sales rep or something at WGNE, the radio station that's always going out of business.”

“Really? Other than the weight, is he as cute as he was when we watched him shooting ball at the park?”

Jacqui folded her arms, breathing deeply. “Yeah, he's cute, but he's still looking for himself. The whole while we were together, he talking about what he
gonna do.
Sound like a big ole kid talking about what he
gonna be
when he grows up. I mean this brother is thirty-four years old and still talking bout being a millionaire. Ain't got plan one to do it. And if he tells me one more time about that catch he made or basket he shot in high school to win the state championship, I'll puke. Swear to God! That stuff happened, what? Twenty years ago? And he still talking about it like I'm supposed to be impressed.”

“Jacqui, to be honest, that's not a bad quality to have— the dream part, that is. At least he hasn't lost his ability to have a dream. So many black men today don't give a damn. Many of them don't know how to—”

“Dream, my ass!” Jacqui exclaimed. “I used to dream of being Cat Woman, but there comes a time when you have to look at reality.”

“But brothers do have it hard out there, Jac. You must admit.” Jacqui held her palm up six inches from Betty's nose as if to say,
spare me.
“Have you seen what the unemployment rates are for African-American men in this country?” Betty continued as she moved Jacqui's hand. “I mean, if a brother is out there trying, with all they come up against, I would be more than willing to help push him. Today we have fewer brothers in college than in—”

“Bullshit!”

“Excuse me?” Betty said, and wiped a drop of tea from her lip.

“That's bull, with a
capital
shit. I get tired of hearing sisters buying in to it,” Jacqui said as her voice went up an octave. “I know more brothers are in the penetentiary than in college, but did we put them there? And in regards to the ones who are out, do they think we're getting jobs from the job fairy or something? Like there's a conspiracy by the
white
man, of course, to give jobs to us in an attempt to keep them down? Hell, we have to deal with the black thing and the female thing and we still get ours!”

“Well, I guess I'm from the old school, because I think the black men out there have it harder in society and need our support.”

Jacqui smiled and shook her head in weary frustration. “Yeah. But when they get a dime, who do they run to? Who do
they
support? White women. Who runs to us, Betty? Have you ever asked yourself that question? Who on this earth do we as Black women have to run to?” Then Jacqui, seeing they were not going to agree on the issue, said, “Forget that. I'm tired of singing that song, I wanna hear about this Evander guy. How thick is it? Is he legit?”

Betty took off her baseball cap and combed out her hair with her fingers. “Let's just say we are not talking marriage, but I must admit, I do like what I see in him so far.”

“Yeah? So tell me, what's up?”

“Not a lot to tell. I mean he's good to me and he's good for me. What more can you ask for?”

“How long y'all been together now?”

“We've been going out casually for about three months, but things have only gotten serious the last couple of weeks.”

“What? You slept with him?”

“Have I slept with him? Umm,” Betty said sheepishly.

“Wait a minute. I thought you were my girl. You been riding this nigga and ain't told me? See how wrong you are?” Jacqui said with a wide-eyed smile. “I thought you've been acting different. I knew it! How was it? Did he know how to work it?”

“Jac, listen to me. He's better then anything I could ever imagine. So soft, so gentle, so in control, so firm. I didn't know how much I missed it until I got some. And now—”

“And now you addicted. Or should I say a-dick-tad!” Jacqui laughed. “That's how it is. You go months and months without it and then you get a little and BAM, you hooked. I believe that damn penis is more addictive than crack. One hit, that's all it takes, and you strung-out like Pookie in
New Jack City.
You gotta have it! Well, it's about time. How long has it been since you slept with that jerk from college?”

“I don't know, and frankly, I do not care. All I do know,” Betty said, “is this man makes me happy. And you know
what? He seems to have a mission to do just that. He makes me smile and it feels good for a change. I like that about him.”

“What about the age thing? Has anyone ever asked if he's your daddy?”

“Now, see, you wrong. That's why I can't tell you anything. You know he doesn't look that much older than me. I never thought I would be attracted to an older man, but I kinda like that in him. He is so mature as far as what he wants. I think he's sown all his wild oats and just wants to find happiness.”

“Well, you my girl. I'm just watching out for a sister. I'm happy for you. You needed that,” Jacqui said, and sipped her iced tea. “The last guy I had like that was great every damn where
but
in bed. Damn shame I had to drop him.”

“Was he that bad?”

“Was he! His name was Chauncy and I dropped his ass like a New Year's resolution. He had to hit the bricks, the pavement, the concrete or whatever! Please,” Jacqui said, and got annoyed all over again as she picked her nails. “I would be just laying there, counting ceiling tiles, thinking about what I had to do here at work, thinking about going shopping, any damn thing. He wasn't hitting on nothing.” Jacqui said with a smile, “The brother was just an
aggravating
screw. He tried hard. I will give him credit for that. Almost broke
his
back actually. I'll let you in on a little secret about men. If you want a man to go that extra mile for you? Before you go to bed with him, just casually tell him, you know, I've
never
had an orgasm. He'll be smelling like Ben-Gay for two weeks afterwards.

But back to my boy, Chauncy. I've had flu-shot needles inside me longer
—and
deeper, I might add. One time, girl, he came so damn fast, when he finished, I gave his ass that look.” Jacqui looked at Betty like a deer caught in the headlights. “I haven't seen his butt since. Now, you know a brother weak when a
look
will chase his ass off. I'm not talking about leaving bridal magazines around or talking to him about children's names. Those are old games. If you want a brother to evaporate? When he pulls down his pants, give his ass that deer look just like this,” she said, and gazed
at Betty with her lips apart and tongue showing, “and I swear the next time you see him will be on a milk carton. But as I was saying, Chauncy was just sickening. Just thinking about him makes me sick. I can feel my throat swelling right now. No lie. Hey, Willie Mae, bring me some cough drops,” she shouted as they laughed.

“Damn, that's pretty bad,” Betty said as Jacqui rubbed her throat.

“At one time I would fake it a little for him, like you the man, you the man, when all the while I would be thinking about a shoe sale at Burdine's. Now, you know a man has gotta go when he is having an orgasm and I am thinking about suede pumps.”

“Well, fortunately Evander has that covered. He wants me to be happy. And listen to this,” Betty said, and leaned forward on the couch. “The brother got up at six o'clock this morning and made
me
breakfast, at
my
place. Can you believe that?”