Up at the College (3 page)

She had a year-to-year position in the Department of Interior and Exterior Design at a decent salary, along with a lovely
2,100-square-foot cottage, for the price of a modest two-bedroom apartment, in Cashmere Estates. It was nothing but the Lord
who led Lamont Green to lease the home out to her for 850 dollars a month, in exchange for her upgrading and designing it
for the virtual tour of cottage homes on the community’s website. Yvonne also served as the in-house consultant for upgrades
and changes to all homes in Cashmere Estates.

She got out of the car and went around to the back to get her bag filled with floor samples, paint samples, and swatches of
materials for the furnishings needed for the university’s newly rehabbed building for the alumni, boosters, and trustees.
Yvonne set the bag on the ground, closed the back of the SUV, and headed inside. She set the bag down one more time, and was
about to pull at the heavy door when her eyes lighted on Tangie Bonner, one of the university’s assistant managers for food
services, getting out of Rico Sneed’s car. Rico was married to her friend Marquita Robinson Sneed, and didn’t have a semblance
of a job at Eva T. If her memory served her correctly, Rico worked at UNC in Chapel Hill. It was almost nine o’clock in the
morning, and if what she knew about most state jobs was correct, old boy should have been on the clock about an hour ago.

She watched Tangie leaning down and sticking her head into Rico’s window, butt twitching back and forth, like whatever was
being said
sho’ was sounding good
to her. Yvonne felt a stab of pain in her heart. Marquita was a sweet person and didn’t deserve to be disrespected by either
of them. Even though Rico had never been one of Yvonne’s favorite people, she’d never pegged him to be a liar and a cheat.
She always believed that he was a trash-talking and opinionated braggart—but not a cheat, and especially not with a cheap
trick like Tangie Bonner.

Plus, Tangie should have been ashamed of herself, considering the many times she had been to Marquita’s house, soliciting
her help with a special catering job at the school that food services wasn’t equipped to handle. Not to mention how many times
the girl had been at the house stuffing her face with some of Marquita’s good food, or bemoaning the loss of one more man
who Tangie had previously claimed was
the one.
And there were absolutely no words to describe a man who would tap some tail off a woman who had been all up in his wife’s
house.

Yvonne could hear Rico laughing and wished she couldn’t imagine what that negro looked like sitting in that red Cadillac STS,
grinning and talking trash. Because she knew exactly what he looked like—had seen him countless times whenever they were around
Marquita and her family. It was a good thing for those two that Yvonne didn’t have her nail gun down in that bag, or else
she would have shot out all of Rico’s 350-dollar tires.

She went into the building, momentarily refreshed by the song playing over the department’s sound system. Elder Jimmy Hicks’s
“I told that ole’ devil to get on out of my way, he’s got to move,” was playing. Yvonne loved that song. It said exactly what
the saints felt when the enemy was standing in the way causing trouble. There were two gospel musicians who could get you
going good in the morning, as far as she was concerned: Elder Jimmy Hicks and Keith “Wonderboy” Johnson. Their earthy, down-home
songs always told it like it needed to be told.

One of the best things about working in this department was that it was staffed by saved, sanctified, and Holy Ghost–filled
folk. That was rare. Most times there were a few saved folks in the cut, but never like this. And it was a beautiful thing
to work with people who loved the Lord and worked hard to live and work in line with the Word of God.

Yvonne unlocked the door to her office, which was more like an office/workshop. The room was about the size of a large family
room in a good-size home. The walls were painted a soft and soothing shade of gray, with charcoal on all of the wood trim
and molding. Her door was brick red, as were the wooden blinds and her desk and shelves. There were large plants in charcoal-
and brick- colored pots placed along the windows, which practically surrounded the entire room. Industrial steel lighting
hung from the ceiling, and there were two large steel cabinets at the back of the room that were full of rolls of upholstery
fabric, area rugs, paint, and a host of interesting tools and items. There were also two ebony-colored wood tables, surrounded
by brick stained steel chairs, with charcoal- and brick-colored tile flooring. Yvonne had decorated her own office, which
was the envy of many of her colleagues.

She flipped on her computer, typed in the password, and then began her morning ritual of opening the blinds and checking on
her plants. The phone rang just as she was about to stick her finger down into the soil of one of the plants.

“Do you ever answer your phone on time?” her cousin Maurice’s wife, Trina Fountain, asked.

“I answered it on time this time,” Yvonne responded defensively.

“Quit lying,” Trina told her. “You know that you got to the phone on time by accident, and you probably wasn’t even concerned
if you got to it on time or not.”

Yvonne didn’t say anything. Trina was right. She didn’t care if she didn’t get to the phone on time. All she had to do was
check her voice mail, and then call whoever it was back. What was so bad about that?

“Uh … huh … your butt always gets quiet when you get called out,” Trina told her. “So, are you still coming to the
house for dinner this evening?”

“I think so—have a lot of work to do today,” Yvonne answered.

Trina blew air out of her mouth, exasperated. “You know something, Yvonne? It’s high time you got a life, so that you can
be out where the right man will be able to find you. He’ll find you out there working and having a full life.”

“Well, I am trying to have a full life. But I really don’t know what there is that I can do about the man. I mean, if the
brother is going to find me, it shouldn’t matter what I’m doing. God will help him find me, don’t you think?”

Trina was quiet a moment. Yvonne did have a point. God could do anything. If the Lord decided the man He had for Yvonne was
supposed to find her while she was walking through her neighborhood in those old ratty-looking sneakers she loved to wear,
that is exactly how the brother would find her. Nonetheless, Yvonne really did need to schedule more time to have fun and
be in the mix of things a bit more. As far as Trina could tell, the poor thing didn’t even know the art of light flirting.
A brother approaching Yvonne better be prepared to get looked at like he was crazy, or figure out a way to draw her out into
some conversation.

But then, she really couldn’t fault Yvonne too much on that account. How could she know how to flirt when she’d been married
most of her adult life to an old stick-in-the-mud? Plus, the girl had met very few brothers worth her time. And lately, she
had been approached by some interesting
specimens
.

Why did the brothers who needed to keep walking always have to be the first ones to get in a sister’s face when they discovered
that she had been dumped by a man? Did they really think she was so desperate for a man that she was
game
for an encounter with them? To date, poor Yvonne had been hit on by a permanent part-time security guard at Durham Regional
Hospital, who kept his wife safely hidden in South Carolina, a preacher who called her house late in the midnight hour on
his way home to his wife, and a broken-down curmudgeon twenty-nine years her senior, who was what Yvonne referred to as “just
a boll weevil lookin’ for a home.”

“So you’re still coming to the house, by yourself, without the girls, to hang out with me and Maurice, right?”

Yvonne didn’t answer Trina, because right now she was absorbed with watching Tangie Bonner and Rico Sneed. That girl was still
hanging over in the window of his car. And were they kissing on campus in the daytime in front of the Athletic Center of all
places? That had to be one of the busiest spots on campus.

“YVONNE!” Trina yelled into the phone. “Are you even listening to me?”

“YES!!! It’s just that I am standing at this window watching Tangie Bonner and Rico Sneed acting like they go together.”

“Because they go together,” Trina told her. “I thought you knew that. Tangie’s building is very close to yours, and she and
Rico haven’t been all that discreet. About the only person who doesn’t know is poor Marquita. I know I shouldn’t say this
but what did she ever see in that dumb, think-he-got-game negro?”

Yvonne shrugged and then said, “I dunno” when she remembered that Trina couldn’t see her. “Girl, do you know that this trick
has some tissue paper hanging right out of her shoes? What kind of bama mess is that?”

“Are those some yellow pumps?” Trina asked.

Yvonne pulled the blinds up so she could get a better look at the shoes from her office window. Thank goodness she was on
the first floor. “Yeah, she does. How’d you know that?”

“’Cause she had those things on when me and Maurice ran into her trying to act like she wasn’t out with Rico, when we went
to that Jill Scott concert over in Raleigh. I could not believe she was all dressed up on a date with another woman’s husband,
with some ugly yellow patent leather pumps from the Big Lots clearance bin on her feet. And if that weren’t bad enough, the
trick had some Kleenex hunched down at the front part of the pump, where the top of the tissue was hanging over that hump
in the middle of your foot.”

“A hot ghetto mess is what that sounds like,” Yvonne said, and then asked, “So is yellow now the new black this season?” She
stared out the window some more. “How did you know she got those shoes from Big Lots?”

“Saw them when I was there looking for some inexpensive plant pots. The bin was right next to a row of some pretty pots.”

Yvonne started laughing. “Girl, let me get out of their business, get off of this phone, and get some work done, so I can
relax and enjoy myself at your house tonight.”

“So this means that you’re coming, right?”

“Yeeessss,” Yvonne answered.

“And, Yvonne.”

“Yes, Trina.”

“Rochelle is staying with the girls, right?”

“Yes, my little sister is staying with the girls—how else will I be able to come by myself?”

“So we’re set, right?” Trina asked again. She knew Yvonne, and she knew that girl would start thinking about work and cancel
to go off and mix up a special color of paint.

“Yes, Trina,” Yvonne exclaimed in exasperation. Trina was really working her over about this.

“Okay, then … uh … please don’t come to my house in your work clothes.”

“But it’s just your house and just you, me, and my cousin. Why would I need to change?”

“You need to get out of those clothes and into some cute jeans and a top” was all Trina said.

“Well, okay. I’ll wear some ‘cute jeans and a top’ to make you happy. Now can I get myself off of this telephone and get to
work?”

“Bye” was all Trina said right before she hung up.

Y
vonne spun around in the middle of the kitchen. She said, “So, does this
ensemble
meet your approval, Mrs. Fountain?”

“Umm-hmm,” was all Trina said as she dipped several pieces of fresh trout in her special homemade batter and then dropped
them in a hot cast-iron skillet. It didn’t take long for the fish to turn a golden brown, the batter making it all crispy.
She turned the fish over and got some more pieces ready to put in the skillet.

Yvonne’s first cousin, Maurice Fountain, came in from the back carrying a tray of vegetables he’d just taken off the grill.
“What up, Cuz?” he said, while putting the tray on the counter and then going right back outside.

“Hand me that plate with the paper towels on it,” Trina told Yvonne as she started scooping out pieces of trout. She pulled
the oven door open and checked on the crispy-baked home fries. “Answer the door for me.”

“The door?” Yvonne said. “I didn’t hear the door.”

“You hear it now” was all Trina said when the bell rang again. She hadn’t heard it the first time either. Just knew that Curtis,
who was very prompt, would be at the house about this time.

“So are you going to help me out a bit and answer the door?”

“Uh … yeah,” Yvonne said and went up front.

Trina just shook her head to herself, thinking, “The baby is so goofy at times. But that is what makes you love her.” She
couldn’t wait to see Yvonne’s face when she came back in the kitchen with Curtis Parker trailing behind her, trying to sneak
and look at Yvonne’s booty when he knew she wasn’t watching him.

The doorbell rang a third time and was followed by heavy knocking. Whoever this person was sure did want to get into Trina
and Maurice’s house awfully bad. “OKAY,” Yvonne yelled, before peeking out of a side panel to see who was on the other side.

Curtis Parker saw Maurice’s cousin peeking at him and wished the girl would open the door—he was hungry and ready to eat.
He stared back at her and rang the doorbell one more time for good measure.

“Just hold your horses,” Yvonne hollered out and finally opened the door, stepping back almost three feet when Curtis Parker
stepped inside and got too close for comfort. That good-smelling whiff of his cologne was enough to make her want to move
back even more. But she didn’t want to appear rude, or act as if she found the man offensive in any way—far from it.

“Hold my horses? Been a long time since I’ve heard that one, girl,” Curtis said, laughing, secretly marveling at how tiny
Yvonne Fountain felt standing next to him. He was a very muscular six foot four, which wasn’t all that tall by today’s basketball
standards. He moved a foot closer to where Yvonne was standing. He noticed that she moved some more, so he moved closer to
her again, just to get a rise out of her. This was fun. It had been a long time since he’d had that kind of effect on a woman,
and he found it refreshing.