Destination D

by Lori Beard-Daily

  Marco paced back and forth outside the restaurant and shook his head deliberately at Sharon. He wiped the champagne off his face with his sleeve. “What is the matter with you, embarrassing yourself like that?”

  Sharon was crying hysterically and her mascara was running down her face. “I still love you, Marco. I told Gerald and Adrienne that I can’t live without you,” she said between sobs, pulling at him like a first grader. “Didn’t he tell you?”

  “Get off of me! See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. I told Gerald that you have no self-control!”

  Sharon screamed right in his face. “How can you get over me so quickly? And with a black girl at that! How do you think that makes me feel? Huh?”

  Marco stopped cold and then moved back quickly in case she was thinking about slapping him again. It was just like Sharon to make such an ignorant remark. She knew she had hit a nerve with him and was waiting for his reaction. “Listen, Sharon. Pam’s color has nothing to do with it. I like her for who she is, not for her race.”

  “Yeah. Sure. How many times have you slept with her, huh?”

  “Sharon!” Marco caught himself before he decided to even address her probing. “You have issues! And a lot of them. That’s why I couldn’t marry you. You know that!”

  “What issues? That I’ve been there for you at your every whim? I cooked for you, cleaned for you, and helped you manage your household affairs. Slept with you…hell, I even sucked your—”

  “Hey, stop it,” he whispered loudly and looked around, embarrassed. “I can’t do this anymore, all right,” he said, waving his arms wildly. “You’ve got to get hold of yourself. You can’t come out in public making these types of outbursts. We just didn’t work out. Honest to God, Sharon, as a psychiatrist, I really feel like you should seek some professional help!”

  “You arrogant son-of-a-bitch! I’m screwed up because you made me that way!”

  “No, you’re screwed up because you chose to be that way. You want a man to complete you. You want me to make up for all of the things your father never gave you. You want someone to take care of you because you don’t want to do it yourself. I can’t do that and I won’t do it. I can’t live my life for someone else, and I can’t be with a woman who expects that of me, either. I’m sorry, Sharon. Please, let me recommend you to one of my colleagues. You know I have a huge practice. I can recommend one of the best—”

  “Hell, no! I don’t want anything from you. Do you hear me? I wish I never met you!” she sobbed as she ran across the street.

  “Sharon!’ Marco shouted, as he watched her run to her car and speed away. He sat on the curb and buried his hands in his head.

  “Shit! Pam!” he said, suddenly remembering he’d left her inside the restaurant. As he turned around to go back inside, he saw Pam standing in front of the door. He dropped his head down and spoke just above a whisper. “I’m so sorry about all of this. How much did you hear?” He felt so humiliated.

  “Well, I now know what you do for a living,” she said softly, not wanting him to know that she had heard the majority of the blowout.

  Marco could not look at Pam. He resented that Sharon had spoiled his first opportunity to make a good impression with her. And just when Pam was finally letting him in, too. Why in the hell of all restaurants did she have to pick this one? And tonight of all nights? He wanted to kick his own ass.

  Marco looked at her remorsefully and cleared his throat before he spoke. “Well, I’m sure this is the last I’ll be seeing of you. I bet you’re really glad that you drove your own car,” he said almost incoherently. There was a brief silence before he spoke again. “Will you at least allow me to walk you to your car? I still owe you your check from reviewing the contracts.”

  Pam looked at him and suddenly saw him in a different light. They both had people in their lives that they were once close to, and somewhere down the line things just got out of hand. Marco was no longer the cocky and carefree man she’d seen in the restaurant earlier. She felt connected to him through his pain and humility and understood all too well what he was feeling right now—and especially after the browbeating she received from Amanda’s daughter.

  She nodded. “How about I just put it on your tab?” she said, smiling warmly.

  Marco breathed out, relieved she’d offered him a second chance.

  Clipped Wings

  As the passengers boarded the plane, Lorraine said, “Hi. Welcome aboard, sir.”

  “Thank you. Can I just go ahead and give you my jacket now?” The tall gentleman asked while juggling the Wall Street Journal, two Sports Illustrated magazines, and a laptop. “I’m already feeling a little warm in here.”

  “I’d be glad to,” Lorraine said, taking his jacket while he took his seat in first class. “Here, Dee,” Lorraine said, handing her the man’s jacket. “Would you mind hanging this up for the gentleman in 7D?”

  “No problem,” Dee said taking the coat, then continued to fill glasses with ice for the on-ground beverage service. After she finished with the last glass, she grabbed the seating chart. She enjoyed checking out the names of the privileged few who could afford a first-class ticket on such a short flight from Atlanta to Orlando. Today was going to be an easy day and a welcome break. She was on a brief hiatus from her three-day trips and was doing a quick turnaround to Orlando and back. While glancing at the seating chart, she recognized one of the names, but couldn’t remember why.

  “Quinton Richardson, 7D,” she said. She began taking her passengers drink orders starting with the first row and then working her way back to 7D. “Mr. Richardson, may I get you something to…” Her words vanished as she felt a slow sinking feeling rising from the base of her stomach.

  Quinton looked up from his Sports Illustrated and was just as stupefied. He dropped his magazine on the floor. “Counselor Bradshaw?” His thunderous voice seemed to echo through the entire first-class cabin. The passengers turned to look at her. Dee’s face was scarlet.

  “Oh, hi,” Dee said meekly. She felt like digging a hole and crawling in it. “Would you care for something to drink, sir?”

  Quinton stared straight through her. “A rum and coke with a twist of lime and lemon.” Now he remembered how he knew her. She was the same woman he had seen on his last flight out to L.A. The nerve of this woman pretending to help his buddy out. And all the while she was lying to him. Unbelievable.

  He watched her rush back to the galley and return with his drink. Her hands shook as she set the glass on his tray table, praying that the drink would not spill in his lap. There was nothing left for her to say. She was busted.

  “Flight attendant, prepare the cabin for departure,” the pilot announced over the PA system.

  “Lorraine, can I please work the back of the cabin?” Dee pleaded. “There aren’t that many passengers up front, and I really would like to switch positions.”

  “Okay, let’s do it on the next leg of the trip. Shaun’s boyfriend is flying on a pass in the back and I promised her she could stay back there with him.”

  Lucky Shaun, Dee thought. At least she dates somebody that works for the company and can fly for free like she does. Dee let out a disappointed sigh and placed both hands over her face, wiping the perspiration from her forehead.

  “Hey Dee, are you feeling okay?”

  “Yeah, Lorraine. I just need some water.”

  “Why don’t you just go in the galley and take a minute. I’ll pick up the rest of the glasses up here.” Lorraine proceeded to pick up the remaining glasses in the cabin as promised, but when she got to 7D, Quinton handed her a note along with his glass.

  “Would you please give this to Desiree,” he said, looking toward the galley. Her name had finally come to him.

  “Do you mean, Deirdre, the flight attendant in the galley? We call her Dee.”

  “Ah yes, I’m sorry. That’s her name,” he said with a smile so warm that Lorraine flushed. She lied about her name, too, huh? He gently took back the note and sc
ribbled something else on it and handed it back to Lorraine.

  “Sure thing,” she said, taking the note out of his hand. The captain made the final announcement for takeoff; and Dee and Lorraine strapped themselves in their jump seats.

  “Hey, Dee, I think you have a secret admirer,” Lorraine whispered in Dee’s ear. Dee’s face showed no emotion. She was just trying to hold it together through takeoff.

  “Yeah? And who might that be?”

  “Mr. Richardson in 7D told me to give this to you.”

  Dee’s stomach sank. Lorraine smiled back at him and handed her the note. Dee exchanged a quick glance with Quinton as he watched her reaction. Completely rattled, her hands trembled like an earthquake, but she finally managed to read the letter. To: Desiree/Deirdre. You either tell Chris the truth or I will. I’ll be back in Miami one week from today. The JIG is up! Quinton.

  Crash Landing

  It had been two weeks since the Johnson vs. Tyfish case had ended, and Pam had heard no mention of a partnership. She had received so many congratulatory cards and flowers from business associates that her office was beginning to look like a flower shop.

  She was reflecting on the morning after the case when she walked into the kitchen and saw Dee perusing through a stack of old newspapers waiting to be recycled.

  “Pam! Oh, my God! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Caught off guard by her outburst, Pam quickly rushed toward her to see what was wrong. And there it was. Her face was plastered across the bottom half of the newspaper along with a two-page article on how she’d pummeled the prosecution in the Johnson vs. Tyfish case.

  “Girl, that’s old news,” Pam chuckled, leaning over Dee’s shoulders.

  “Old news, huh? Why on earth didn’t you tell me that you won this huge case? It’s been almost two weeks. C’mon, Pam, you talk about me. Now look who’s the one keeping secrets.” Dee looked hurt as she waited for Pam’s response.

  “The truth is that I was going to tell you right away, but that was the evening you hurt your hand. It was not a good time for you. Surely, you remember how that last night went with us…”

  Dee got up and gave her a hug and whispered, “I do remember, and I can respect that. Thank you, and congratulations!” Suddenly Dee’s voice raised to a high octave pitch of excitement. “Hey, since we are on the subject of you and SMS…”

  Pam raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”

  “Have you heard anything about Amanda since she quit the firm?”

  “No,” Pam said dryly. “But, I did run into Tracey and her male friend the other night.”

  “Really? That’s a coincidence,” Dee said sounding a little suspicious. “How’d that go?”

  “Well, let’s just say that she is definitely her mother’s child when it comes to speaking her mind.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She was pissed off and blamed me for Amanda’s departure.”

  “Well, she is very protective of Amanda. That is her mother.”

  “Yep, she sure is,” Pam answered with an allusive tone.

  “Well what happened?”

  “All I’m going to say is that she’s lucky she got off easy because she’s a child,” Pam laughed sinisterly.

  Dee could see that this conversation would not end on a positive note, so she didn’t even bother to respond. She just walked over to the phone and began punching in numbers.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Sedrick.”

  “Sedrick?”

  “Heck, yeah! We’ve got to take you out on the town and celebrate, girl!” she said changing Pam’s mood instantly. “So clear your calendar tonight, because I’m off and I hope Sed’s not on call because we are goin’ to have a good time.”

  Pam laughed as she grabbed her thermos of coffee. “Just call me at work and give me the details. I’ll be there if you all can make it work.”

  “See you later.” Pam headed out the door chuckling.

  Dee waved to Pam, and then closed the door when she heard a buzzing sound coming from the other side of the room. She looked at her cell phone and saw that she had a text message that said, CM.

  “Oh now, what?” Dee pressed in her auto dial to call Tracey.

  “Hi, Auntie Dee. I see you finally got my text,” she giggled.

  “When did you send it?”

  “Ummm, don’t worry about it. I remember you told me that text messaging was not your forte. You are still a little old-school, but it’s okay.” Tracey giggled again.

  “Funny, Funny! HA. Ha. I’m okay with texting. I just prefer the voicemail sometimes. So, what’s up?”

  “So you haven’t spoken to Ms. Pam?”

  “Yes, she just left, why?”

  “Did she tell you that I saw her the other night?”

  Dee became silent. She didn’t know if she wanted to hear the details or not. “She didn’t go into details,” Dee’s voice trailed off.

  “Yeah, I bet,” Tracey mumbled. “Well, I told her exactly what I thought of her.”

  “What does that mean, Tracey?”

  “It means that I don’t like how she treated Mama and I let her know it.”

  Dee could only imagine how the entire scene played out without Tracey telling her. And the fact that Pam didn’t want to discuss it either had her a little concerned. But, she knew that she shouldn’t be totally surprised.

  “Tracey, you need to stay out of your mother’s business, especially when it comes to Pam,” Dee warned.

  “I’m not afraid of her, Aunt Dee. What is it with you and Mama?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The two of you seem like you can’t stand up to her.” Tracey laughed loudly. “What is she like four-feet tall and 90 pounds?”

  “Now, Tracey…”

  “Okay, five-feet tall. She’s gotta lot of bark going on, too.”

  Dee could tell that Tracey was having a grand time making fun of Pam, and even though it was comical, Dee was not going to partake in it. “Trust me when I say that she has a bite, too—a very large one.”

  “I say bring it on.”

  “Tracey, believe me, you don’t want to go there. Please believe that.”

  “But…”

  “Listen,” Dee abruptly changed the subject. “I’m done with that conversation, and you know I would not steer you wrong.”

  “But, Auntie Dee, you don’t under—”

  “Yes, I do. I understand that I’m moving onto another topic. How are things going with you and your father and mother?”

  Tracey was quiet and Dee knew it was not because she cut the conversation short on the topic of Pam. “Tracey, you still haven’t told your mother?”

  Tracey whispered, “No.”

  “When do you plan on telling her?”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  “Oh, Tracey, this is not good at all.”

  “I know. It’s wrong, but I just don’t know how to tell her.”

  “Tracey, you’ve got to do it. You’re putting me in the middle of this by keeping secrets from your mom and—”

  “I know. I don’t want her to fall out with you, too, like she has with Ms. Pam.”

  Dee let out a sigh of relief. At least Tracey understood the ramifications. Tracey’s voice became still as though thinking very carefully about her next sentence.

  “Can you be there when I talk to her?”

  Dee dropped the phone.

  “Hello, Auntie Dee. Hello? Are you there?”

  Dee had a puzzled look on her face as she stared at the phone and listened to Tracey’s muffled voice calling out to her. Why did she keep getting herself tangled up in all of this drama? First, it was Chris. Next it was Quinton, and now it was Amanda and her daughter.

  Pam was in her office facing the picturesque skyscrapers in front of her window. She reflected again on her victory from just two weeks ago. But the entitlement that she greatly anticipated had not yet arrived. Until today.

  She had received
an e-mail from Bill McKesson asking if she was available to meet first thing this morning with him and Pete. The time had finally come, her entrée into the big league. Her telephone buzzed. She looked at the Caller ID. It was Pete.

  “Hey, Pam. I’ve got Bill over here in my office now. We’re ready to meet with you.”

  Pam’s fingers froze on the mute button. This was finally it; Bill McKesson meeting with her could only mean partnership. The other senior partners were probably going to meet with her later. She laughed hysterically and clapped her hands as she released the mute button.

  “I’ll be right over.”

  “Good, we’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  Pam swung her chair around like a kid who had been warned on several occasions not to do so. She raised her hands in the air and softly yelled, “Yes!” She pulled a compact mirror from her purse and took a long look at herself. Then she stroked her short curls and carefully brushed on a light lip-gloss.

  Pete and Bill were standing stiffly against the desk when she entered. They both looked at her pensively, and then walked over to the conference table in the corner of Pete’s office. She saw two small stacks of papers lying neatly on top of the table.

  “C’mon in, Pam, please have a seat,” Pete said awkwardly, extending his arm to the cushioned cherry wood chair that sat between both of them. Something was strange about their behavior. They were so elusive, almost sinister. Was this how they treated someone who was about to be made partner?

  “Thank you,” Pam answered as diplomatically as she could, feeling a frost forming around her.

  “Pam, we were very proud of your work on the Johnson vs. Tyfish case. Titus Johnson can’t stop calling this office and singing your praises,” Bill said, breaking the ice a bit.

  “Thank you.”

  “Yes, you’ve won a lot of cases for this firm and have brought in significant revenue, especially for someone so young.” Pam nodded, waiting anxiously for what they would say next.

  “And although you have obviously learned your way around the courtroom very quickly, there are some issues that have been brought to our attention that we feel need to have some further clarification before we offer you a partnership,” Pete interjected.