We Take this Man (3 page)

Thankfully, Tammy, aka Memorex, leaned in and whispered, “Isn’t that Byron . . . remember we use to call him Grizzly?”

I wanted to burst out laughing. Instead, I nodded as it all came together—who exactly Byron was and where I’d met him. He was a flunky I met on a Black Ski Weekend in Colorado.

“So, Byron . . . how have you been?”

“Working hard. Playing harder.”

He seemed a little more relaxed and less uptight. “So, how do you manage the best of both worlds? I’m always just working. This is the extent of my playing.”

“Well, you look like you’re having fun.”

We laughed and he continued, “I never let work consume me. When five o’clock strikes, I’m out.”

“I wish. I can’t remember the last time I worked a forty-hour week.”

“You need someone to help take that load off.”

As attractive as the offer sounded, I’d rather work my ass off than to have to cook, clean, and wash some man’s drawers all in the name of taking the load off. I smirked. “I guess.”

Gina strutted in and sang, “Hey, y’all.”

As she headed down the line with hugs, Byron backed away. “Okay, Ms. Alicia. Go ahead and hang out with your girls.”

When he touched my forearm, I noticed a ring on his left hand. I shook my head. Wow, I couldn’t believe someone actually married him. If my memory serves me correctly, he was a Teeny-Weeny-I-Don’t-Feel-You-in-Me dude. Someone must have been desperate.

When Gina got to me, she asked, “Who was the cutie that just walked away?”

Tammy and Gina were the comedians of the crew. Tammy laughed louder than necessary. “Gina, that was Grizzly. Remember him?”

Gina’s preppy black-frame glasses popped off her nose as she threw her head back in complete shock. “No.”

“Yes. That’s him,” I said.

“Oh my goodness. He looks so different. Remember he had more hair on his hands than I have on my head.” Gina laughed.

I looked at Gina’s crew cut and couldn’t suppress my laughter. “I can’t stand y’all.”

Tammy rolled her pencil neck. “He’s still a damn bear.”

Andrea chimed in, “That’s not nice, y’all.”

Gina said, “Dre, stop feeling sorry for dudes. Nobody told him not to shave his knuckles.”

Tammy’s drink sprayed out of her mouth when she began to howl with laughter. She slid from the barstool and slapped Gina a high five. “Exactly.” She rolled her eyes at Andrea, then spoke to everyone, “That’s why our girl had to do what she does best.” She and Gina laughed as they spoke simultaneously and looked at me. “Le-Le.”

Ironically, everyone outside of the crew thought that Le-Le was a cute nickname for Alicia, but Le-Le actually stood for “Love ’Em and Leave ’Em.” It was a name that one of those fools came up with sophomore year of college. I huffed and said, “Let’s go upstairs.”

Andrea gently smirked at me as if to say they didn’t have hearts. Gina, standing a mere five feet, always took charge, so we let her be the first to head up the stairs to get the table. She strutted in front of us in a white baby tee with black writing and tight jeans like she owned the place. Somehow, she made that same outfit fly year after year.

After the hostess sat us down at a large round table, all eyes were on me. Gina, the little smart ass, asked, “So, they’re trying to take your job, huh?”

Andrea shot a look at her and rephrased the question, “So, what’s going on?”

“Well, they claim they’re bringing in someone from the company we’re merging with to lead the team.”

Tammy said, “But haven’t you been leading the team all this time?”

“Exactly,” I huffed.

Andrea said, “That’s horrible. Do you think your job is safe?”

“I really don’t know.”

Gina asked, “That’s fucking ridiculous. As much as you work, they have nerve even coming to you with that bullshit.”

I shrugged. “Unfortunately, that’s the way it is. It’s a conspiracy, I know. But what can I do?”

Tammy folded her arms. “Get into a field where you’ll be respected.”

“I make too much money for that.”

Andrea said, “Or you could marry a man who makes a lot of money.”

“When the hell have you known me to wait for the cavalry to come?”

She shook her head. “Well, Le-Le, if you stayed with a man long enough maybe the cavalry would come.”

Andrea kept hope alive that maybe just maybe someone would come and validate her existence. Damn if I planned on hopelessly waiting for some man to sweep me up and marry me, so we could live happily ever after in never-never land. I’m a realist and that type of shit happens only in books.

CHAPTER 3

Tracey

F
or the most part I worked from home as a real estate agent. I scheduled my appointments by phone and did a lot of communication through e-mail. Choosing to go into real estate was a great decision. I get to spend time with my children and I go into the office only three times a week. I show the majority of homes during the day, when the girls are at school, or after dinner, when Dwight is home. My job allows me to be hands-on with them. I go up to their school and volunteer and bring in treats on Friday. I’m the kind of mom I wish I had.

I worked for Harrison Realty. It is a small, family-owned business. There are four other associates. I do all types of deals, from half-million-dollar homes to first-time home buyers. I’m good at what I do. I love selling and almost always make the most sales of the office.

When I walked into the office, Jeff, our receptionist, was on a call. His headset rested on his short brown hair. He signaled me to check my mailbox. I walked over, retrieved my mail, and got a cup of coffee. I had several messages. One was from my two o’clock appointment; she said she was running a little late. I wasn’t surprised—folks are always late. However, I was always on time when it came to showing a property. I didn’t need any unexpected shit to happen. It is hard to believe, but sometimes people have dishes in the sink, don’t make their beds, and let their dogs run loose. And then they get mad when their houses stay on the market for months. I always hide any imperfections: I cover holes in the walls with paintings, and spray a little insect spray if necessary. My trunk is a little convenience store filled with paper towels, Febreze, Lysol disinfectant, and an assortment of cleansers.

“And what brings you to the office on a Monday?” Jen asked. She was my girl at the office. She had dyed black hair with these ugly white streaks painted throughout. She was only twenty-eight, but she looked a little past thirty-five. If I was running late or couldn’t handle something, she was there to do it for me. Jen could talk you to deaf about random events. She was one of those women who was always talking about getting married and having kids, and hadn’t even met the guy yet. She was nice, but just a mess, and living with her mother didn’t help. Her mother always had her running errands. She would pick up her medicine or take her cat to the vet. I felt sorry for her. We chatted until it was time for me to meet my client.

“I have to meet a client,” I responded as I popped a peppermint in my mouth.

“You’re actually working. I thought you would be somewhere getting a mani and pedi.”

“Be quiet—I scheduled that appointment for later,” I said.

I opened the lockbox on the three-bedroom ranch house. Everything was neat and orderly.
Thank God
, I thought. I opened the window and allowed some fresh air to seep in. Then I opened the blinds throughout the entire house. The sun makes everything look better.

My client, Miss Chanel Austin, came ten minutes late. I hoped she would like this house, I thought. I showed her three other properties and I wasn’t showing her any more. People like her walk in the office wanting to live anywhere and buy anything, but once they realize they are approved, they start thinking they have options. It was my job to let her know that this was her only option. She walked in the door smiling, wearing a tight T-shirt and jeans. She said she was sorry she was late. Her smiled disappeared quickly as she took off her sunglasses like she was unimpressed.

“So let me show you around,” I said, leading her to the kitchen. I showed her around the house. “So what do you think so far?” I asked.

“This is okay. The pictures online made it look better.”

It was time to turn on my sales skills.“I think this house and this neighborhood have so much potential.”

“So where do you live?” she asked, looking around the empty white kitchen.

“In Crescent Hill.”

“Oh that’s a nice neighborhood. Do you have anything for sale in that area? ’Cause this is kind of far!” I thought about her 594 credit score and nicely explained that she couldn’t afford to buy a doorbell in my neighborhood. Basically, she just should be happy that I could even get her ass in a house. I had to let her know this was the best she was going to get for her budget.

“Yeah that’s a nice area, but again, this is up and coming. If you to decide to sell your house, you will have a better chance out here. Plus, your preapproval was for two-fifty. Houses in my area start in the low four hundreds.”

“Really? Yeah, I can’t afford that. I don’t know why I even asked you about a neighborhood like that,” she said, second-guessing herself. I smiled and stood in place and let her look around again. When she walked back into the kitchen, I glanced down at my cell phone. The time read four-thirty. She had to hurry up. She was not going to make me miss my nail appointment. When she came out of the kitchen she rubbed her hand on the gold and white wall.

“If I get this, I’m going to have to change the wallpaper. Thank you for showing me this house,” she said.

That’s more like it
, I thought.
Be grateful.
“You’re welcome,” I said, walking her toward the door. I thought she was about to tell me she wanted to make an offer. But she said the opposite of what I was expecting.

“I’m going to have to bring my boyfriend. He’ll make the final decision.” She never mentioned her boyfriend in the two months I had been working with her dumb ass.

“And when do you want to bring him?” I asked, disappointed.

“Um, well, he is out of town. He’ll be home next week,” she stuttered. Just by the way she was fidgeting her fingers I knew she was lying. She was making me mad, playing games. I had something for her.

“So does your boyfriend have access to a computer?” I asked.

“Yes, why?”

“Well, maybe you can send him pictures of the house.”

“You are so right, thank you, but I don’t know his e-mail address.”

“Maybe you can call him up and get it.” Once again I called her bluff. Then she pulled her pink RAZR phone out of her purse. I heard her say, “Babe, what’s your e-mail address?” She then asked me for a pen. I gave her a pen and piece of paper. She wrote the address down and then gave it to me. I went back to the office and e-mailed pictures of the house. I couldn’t let this dumb young girl who had to ask her boyfriend not her husband if she should buy a house discourage me. She is going to buy this house.

After dealing with Chanel’s idiotic ass, I had just enough time to pick up Jordan from dance class and Destiny from day care. Jordan was sitting against the mirrored wall, chatting with her friends. She saw me and picked up her bag and ran toward me.

“How was class?” I asked.

“It was good. We are having a recital.” Her dance instructor handed me a yellow reminder slip for the recital. I saw Jordan’s friend Leah’s mom, Sophia. Sophia irritated me. I called her grandmom mommy. She was only in her forties, but technically she was old enough to be her daughter’s grandmother. She wanted to be my friend so bad, and always invited us out, and I always declined. She had her daughter Leah in everything: dance, karate, swimming. She even bought her daughter Rosetta Stone software, so she could learn to speak Spanish and French. She has that poor little girl on overdrive. I’m not surprised her husband works out of town twenty days out of each month. I waved to her before she could come over and start up a conversation.
Not today, girlfriend, not today
, I thought as I hurried out of the building. I instructed Jordan to put her seat belt on and pulled out before Sophia caught up with us.

We picked up Destiny from day care and headed straight to the nail salon. We were regulars. I didn’t let the girls get full pedicures yet, but they do get manicures and their toes polished with designs. Lynn, the owner, came over and welcomed us. She was a petite Asian woman in her mid-thirties.

“Hi, Lynn. I’m getting a pedicure and a refill.”

“I’ll be right with you. Pick out a color,” she said. She spoke in Vietnamese to her worker to run my pedicure water. I dipped my feet in the hot soapy water as Lynn took the old polish off of my nails. I was beginning to relax a little when the loud shriek of Jordan’s voice filled the nail salon.

“Mommy, tell Destiny to stop copying,” Jordan yelled as she picked her polish.

“Pink is my favorite color, too!” Destiny screamed.

“It wasn’t your favorite color yesterday. You said it was red.”

“Pick another color, Destiny,” I said, trying to end their squabbling.

“Why, Mommy? I like pink, too!” she said as she began to cry. I had to get out of my seat and calm her down. I picked up a lilac polish and showed it to her.

“This is pretty, Des. You should get this color.” She turned the polish upside down and then said okay and licked her tongue at Jordan.

The girls bickered for the next thirty minutes. They were sitting under the dryers letting their nails dry and their legs swing back.
Next time I’m coming by myself
, I thought. My phone rang and I put down the
Vogue
that I was reading and answered it. “Tracey Wilson.”

“Hi, Miss Wilson, this is Chanel. My boyfriend got the pictures and he said that he loved it and told me to make an offer. So could you please not show the house to anyone and I can come by your office with a check and sign the contract?” I was excited about the sale but I didn’t let her know it.

“That’s fine. Just give me a call tomorrow.” I probably should have felt bad for doubting her, but I didn’t. I just continued getting pampered and thought about everything I could buy when she signed on the dotted line.