Destination D

by Lori Beard-Daily

  “Hmmm. What does Queen Madison think of your plans?”

  What in the world am I doing? Amanda is one of my dearest friends and I’m lying to her. I don’t know what to do. If I tell her the truth, she’ll go back and tell Quint, and then he’ll tell Chris and then I’m really screwed. “You know. I haven’t really had time to discuss it with her. As a matter of fact, I didn’t know you quit the firm until I spoke to Tracey recently.”

  “Pam didn’t tell you?”

  “No.”

  Amanda looked hurt. “Obviously, it wasn’t a priority for her.”

  “Hey, Amanda. This thing between you and Pam, I just think you need to really…”

  “Just don’t.” Amanda raised her hand.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t defend her.”

  “I’m not def—”

  “Yes, you are—you always have.”

  “Amanda, c’mon you know that’s not…”

  Amanda glanced around the bathroom and took a breath from deep within. “Listen Dee. This is not the time and definitely not the place for us to have this discussion in the ladies’ room. Let’s do this,” she said taking out a piece of paper and pen from her purse. “Here is my new phone number. Is yours still the same?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please call me. I promise I will answer this time!” Amanda smiled. “Or better yet, I’ll call you. Let’s set up some time to go out and talk. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  “I’m looking forward to catching up,” Amanda said, winking.

  “Same here.”

  Dee smiled and waited for her to go into the stall, then hurried from the room and hid behind the pillar wall. She felt like a fugitive as she snuck a quick peek around the corner to see if Quinton was anywhere nearby. She scanned the room until she spotted Quinton standing and talking to Melvin.

  She remained behind the pillars until she saw him disappear. She heaved a sigh of relief. Her silk blouse was sticking to her like honey on a warm biscuit.

  “Hey, Dee,” Amanda called out.

  When Dee turned around and saw Amanda, she all but leapt out of her heels. She barely caught herself before she lost her balance, almost spraining her ankle in the process.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said, catching Dee by the arm before she fell to the ground.

  “Oh, I’m so embarrassed. Thanks,” Dee said, as she smoothed her hair out of her face.

  “Are you okay? You don’t look too well.”

  “I’m not feeling too well, either, ya know? I think I’m going to call it an evening. Hey, thanks—thanks again, for ah…” Dee tried to use her hands to indicate what she was trying to say, since her words had vanished.

  “Catching you!” Amanda said, finishing the sentence for her. “No problem. Are you sure you’re going to be all right? Do you need some assistance?”

  Dee finally let go of the wall and almost toppled over again from nervousness. “No, I’m fine. I’m sure. Thank you, again.”

  Amanda was concerned about her friend. “Hey, Melvin is right over there,” she pointed out from the corner. “We can give you a ride home, if you need one.”

  “Oh, no, please. I’ll be fine.” She fumbled around in her briefcase for her keys. She was having difficulty catching her breath.

  “Dee, I’m concerned. Are you here with someone?”

  “There’s this guy named Chris Dickerson.”

  “The Miami Dolphins, Chris?”

  “Yeah, that’s him. Please just tell him that Desiree suddenly became ill and that I will call him later.”

  “Who is Desiree?”

  “That’s just a nickname he calls me,” Dee answered and was ticked off at herself for accidently revealing some of her charade to Amanda.

  “All right, Desiree,” Amanda looked at her oddly. “I don’t want to be presumptuous, but I think he should come get you and walk you to your car.”

  Dee lifted her shaking hands that held the keys. “No, please. I’ll be fine. Just give him my message, okay?”

  “Okay, then. Be careful.”

  “I will,” Dee said, managing to limp her way through the doorway and back to her car. “I’ll call you.”

  Fueled to Fly

  Asilent chill filled the courtroom. Pam and the prosecuting attorney, Linda Garret, took to the Johnson vs. Tyfish case like two piranhas battling for the last piece of human flesh. This was the final day of deliberations and the jury had already been on duty for two weeks. They looked as if they had just as much animosity for Pam and Linda as they had for each other. Since the onset of the trial, the highly publicized case played out like a courtroom scene from a Hollywood movie. And both women were competing for the starring role.

  For every piece of evidence Linda had against Pam’s client, Pam had just as much evidence to prove his innocence. Each witness from both sides had a strong alibi, and both Pam and Linda made excellent attempts at discrediting each other’s witnesses. But the witnesses were steadfast and answered each question thoughtfully and honestly—or appeared to, anyway.

  Linda, like Pam, was at the pinnacle of her career. She, too, reveled in the idea of being able to be a part of such a high-profile case. She had also attended Columbia Law School and they worked together on cases in the past. But no other case had been this big, and no other had ever pushed their careers so far into the spotlight.

  Linda was Pam’s exact opposite. She was soft-spoken, yet extremely persuasive in the courtroom. Linda was not nearly as attractive as Pam, but what she lacked in physical beauty she made up for in legal expertise and charm. She was known for her cropped afro and conservative outfits of classically designed suits and low-heeled Aigner pumps.

  Pam’s client, Titus Johnson’s stomach churned. If he was found guilty, he could face a maximum penalty of twenty years for embezzlement. His face was emotionless. Pam had used this as strategy since the beginning of the trial.

  “Guilty or innocent, Mr. Johnson, our motto here is, never, ever let them see you sweat!” Pam’s voice ranted in his ear throughout the day, reminding him that, in her opinion, any hint of emotion could tip the verdict either way. So, to play it safe, they took the middle road and let the jury decide his innocence based only on the evidence that was presented.

  Mr. Johnson leaned toward Pam, clutching his stomach. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “Believe me, the last thing you want to do is hurl in this courtroom. Here, take this,” she said, pulling a Tums out of her purse. “Take a deep breath and focus on that window over there.”

  He looked up at the jury, his eyes searching for answers. Nothing was there. Next, he turned to look at his wife and three children, who were holding hands and praying silently. Their faith gave him some semblance of hope.

  Meanwhile, Linda’s client, Tyfish’s executive team, sat stiffly, passing notes back and forth. While their strategy was causing Mr. Johnson to unravel, it was only fueling Pam’s confidence.

  Judge Terry Ferguson entered through the wooden doors. The courtroom stood in her honor. The lines in her face showed the stress of her job. Gray roots always seemed to pop up no matter how many times she dyed them.

  “Who is the spokesperson for this jury?” Judge Ferguson asked.

  A short, soft-spoken woman stood and raised her hand. “I am, Your Honor.”

  “Has the jury come to a verdict?”

  “Yes, we have, Your Honor,” the woman said confidently.

  Mr. Johnson’s head fell to his shoulders. This was the first time that he had shown emotion throughout the trial. The spokesperson didn’t know if he would make it through the verdict. She thought he looked weak and nauseated as she watched him clutch the base of his stomach. Pam saw the queasy look on her client’s face as Linda flashed a premature victory smile. If Pam won, she wanted to permanently delete that smug look on Linda’s face.

  “Would the defendant please rise?” Judge Ferguson asked.

  “Breathe
. Breathe and focus on the window. It’s going to be all right. Just breathe,” Pam whispered. Pam saw Mr. Johnson close his eyes and take a deep breath as though he was lifting pressure from his stomach. He held onto the table as he braced himself to stand.

  “Madame Foreperson, have you reached a verdict?” the judge asked.

  “Yes, we have Your Honor.”

  “What say you?”

  “As to the single count of embezzlement, we, the jury, find the defendant, Mr. Titus Johnson not guilty.” The stout woman looked over at Mr. Johnson and made eye contact with him for the first time.

  “Yes! We won!” Pam said. Mr. Johnson grabbed her and buried his head in her shoulders as the tears flooded down his cheeks.

  “Thank you, God! Thank you, Pam,” he wailed as he raised his fists high above his head.

  The courtroom was in an uproar as Mr. Johnson’s family screamed and ran to embrace him while Tyfish Systems’ Vice President screamed, “We’ll appeal! You won’t get away with this, Titus!”

  Titus looked at him with a hateful sting in his eyes. He lunged toward him as Pam grabbed him by the shoulders. “Appeal all you want, it will only be the same outcome. I’m innocent!”

  “Order! Order in this courtroom!” Judge Ferguson yelled as she slammed down the gavel. “Counselor Madison, get a hold of your client!” The courtroom fell silent. “This courtroom is still in session. I have not dismissed anyone!” She looked toward the jury box. “Thank you, jurors. You have done a good job in doing your civic duty. You are free to go, Mr. Johnson. This courtroom is now dismissed.” Judge Ferguson authoritatively slammed down her gavel for the last time.

  Linda was notably disappointed by the verdict. She put her pride aside for a moment as she walked toward Pam. “Congratulations, Pam,” she said through pursed lips. “Mr. Johnson…”

  Mr. Johnson nodded. He was still hugging his family, who had formed a small ring around him. Pam was not fooled by her façade of professional courtesy. Linda was enraged and harbored strong feelings of envy and injustice in her heart, and Pam knew it.

  “Well, you know what they say,” Pam said arrogantly.

  “No, I don’t. But something tells me you’re going to inform me.”

  Pam looked at her with all of the indignation she had been assembling for this very moment and paused before she spoke. “They say in court someone always loses.”

  “That’s true, Pam. Someone does have to lose,” Linda said.

  “It’s just that in my case, it has not, and it never will be me.” Pam gave her a dismissive look and snapped up her briefcase. “Excuse me while I go out to give a statement to the deluge of reporters that are waiting to hear about me and my client’s triumph.”

  Near Miss

  As Dee walked through the revolving door, a man bumped into her, causing her packages to fall to the floor.

  “Here, let me help you with those,” a nearby man said as he raced over to help. His voice was as smooth as brass and caught Dee’s attention right away. She looked up into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

  “Thanks, I guess chivalry is not gone.”

  “Not for me, anyway. Did you see that guy? He didn’t even look up,” he said as he bent down to retrieve the books from the floor.

  “I don’t think he even realized he bumped into me. He was pretty preoccupied with his conversation.”

  “I don’t know how someone could miss bumping into you,” the stranger said admiringly, looking at Dee’s flawless skin. He looked at her as though she was a fine work of art and was immediately taken in by her natural beauty. Her straight hair flowed around her shoulders, giving her a regal aura.

  “I don’t mean to be nosy, but where’d you get these books?”

  “At this little bookstore not too far away from here, actually. They sell all types of old books,” she said, finding herself lured in by his powerful gaze. His skin was lightly tanned, highlighting his straight, russet brown hair. He was every bit of a blue-eyed George Clooney look-alike, and Dee loved her some Clooney.

  “These are some interesting topics,” he said, perusing through the titles before placing them back in her bag. “Osteopathic Medicine in the 1800’s, Naturopathic Medicine, 1900’s. If I’m not being too presumptuous, are you in the medical field?”

  Dee looked down at the books. She’d bought them for Sedrick. Even before Sed became a doctor, he loved to read about anything that had to do with medicine, especially books dating back to the 1800’s. The hold this stranger’s eyes had on her allowed her to come up with only one answer.

  “Yes. I’m a medical student at Morehouse Medical School in Atlanta.”

  “Morehouse, yes, I’m very familiar with Atlanta. I have a client there. We just did some PR for him at his hospital. So, what are you doing in San Diego?”

  “Oh, I’m here attending some workshops in pediatrics, and we had a little break in our schedule so I did a little shopping,” Dee sounded so convincing that she almost believed it herself.

  “I see. If you don’t mind, I’d really like to talk with you again.”

  “That’s funny. I was thinking the same thing.”

  “Really? How long will you be in town?”

  “This is the last day for the workshops, so I’ll be leaving tomorrow afternoon.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Oh. And why’s that bad?”

  “I was hoping we could hang out a bit. How about dinner tonight? Unless, of course, you already have plans.”

  Only with my crew. “No, I was going to do some studying and order up room service.”

  “Okay, then, let me give you my card. Here is the hotel where I’m staying,” he said as he scribbled his information on the back. He immediately stopped writing on his card. “I can’t believe this!”

  “What?”

  “We didn’t even introduce ourselves.”

  Dee laughed. “Well, I’m Debra Mitchell. You can call me Deb,” she responded.

  “And I’m Steven Cushman. And you can call me Steve, or Steven,” he joked. “Why don’t we meet here in the lobby this evening at 7:00? Just give me a call if anything changes. If not, I’ll see you down here tonight.”

  “All right, thank you,” she said, taking the card from him. He stared at her one more time, still holding onto the card and gently squeezed her hand. “Well, I’m here on business and I see some of my cohorts signaling for me to get back into the luncheon,” he said, nodding at three white businessmen waving. He finally let go of her hand and walked back toward the group. “Looking forward to seeing you later.”

  Dee stared at the card and wondered what she had just gotten herself into. She couldn’t understand why her lies flowed so smoothly. It was one thing to be an attorney; she had that down pat because of her background. But now she had to pull off being in medical school, too. Maybe listening to all of Sedrick’s stories about his patients would finally pay off. At least she hoped so.

  Turnaround

  Amanda walked slowly through the double doors of Sterling, Mathis, and Silverman. All of the familiar faces welcomed her, anticipating her homecoming.

  “Well, Miss Amanda, I sure am glad to see you. So, are you back for good?” Carol Ann asked as she leaned in toward her.

  “No, I’m here to meet with Mr. McKesson and Mr. Sterdivent.” Carol Ann raised her eyebrow as if to say, What is the big meeting about? And why didn’t I know about it? “Have a seat and I’ll tell them you’re here.” She strutted back behind her desk to buzz them. “Mr. McKesson, Amanda is here, sir.”

  “Good! Send her on back.”

  She stood again and walked back toward Amanda. “Well, you heard him. You know the way,” she said pleasantly, extending her arms toward the corridor.

  Sounds of papers shuffling and the clerical staff buzzing made the firm such a vital place. Amanda remembered how much she used to enjoy the energy that filled the firm.

  She stood in the entryway and softly tapped on Pete’s wide open door. Pete
looked up and his eyes greeted her cordially. “Hey, Amanda. Thanks for coming in,” he said, as he stood to shake her hand, gesturing for her to take a seat.

  “Hello, Amanda, it’s good to see you,” Bill McKesson said, gently placing both hands on top of hers and shaking them warmly.

  The room was filled with an inexplicable positive energy she couldn’t ignore. She had a hard time digesting the fact that they felt she was important enough for them to call her. And, based on the sound of Pete’s voice from previous conversations, they were anxious to get her back.

  Pete sat back in his chair and folded his hands as if he were contemplating his next sentence. “Amanda, as I mentioned, we called you in here to discuss the reason you left us so abruptly, and without the proper two-week notice.”

  “Yes, we can’t afford for our employees to leave the firm all of a sudden and never know why,” Bill chimed in, almost as if they had been rehearsing each other’s lines.

  Amanda thought pensively about their questions before she spoke. She fidgeted with the string on the sleeve of her sweater and exhaled as she made eye contact with them both.

  “I’ve had some personal matters that I’ve been neglecting, and my job was interfering with them,” she said, trying to sound convincing.

  “So you couldn’t take vacation time to be off ?” Pete interjected.

  Bill scratched the side of his toupee. “You must have several weeks built up because I can’t remember when you weren’t in the office.”

  Amanda looked down at the floor. She knew they knew she was lying. Should she tell them the truth? That one of the only black females, a soon-to-be partner and former friend was an overbearing, insensitive, callous-hearted bitch of a person? She thought about all of the long hours of labor she’d spent with Pam. And suddenly Melvin’s voice bolted through her head like a freight train. Why should she allow Pam to intimidate her to quit something she loved? Maybe it was time for her to tell Pete and Bill about their past and what type of demon they had really hired. If nothing else, perhaps it would help them be on the lookout for the next poor victim who had to work underneath Pam’s vise-like grip.

  “You’re both right,” she said feeling a little more confident. The string on her sweater had gotten longer. She twirled it until she snapped it out from underneath her sleeve and slowly began to speak. “I’ve felt like my back was up against the wall. It felt as if there was a tight grip around my throat, and I was being squeezed harder and harder until finally I had to let go. I had no other choice. I couldn’t breathe.”