She found herself shuffling files and paperwork furiously, unable to focus on one task. Finally, she decided to return some of the calls in her voice mailbox. The indicator light was blinking, informing her that it was full. A half-hearted feeling of contentment overcame her as she pressed one and found that there were eleven messages waiting for her. She enjoyed the fact that she had so many messages because it was a reminder of her importance at the company.
Her personal life, she thought, was a different story all together. Most of the messages were from clients needing followup consultations, which literally meant $4500 a pop to teach old white executives how to diversify their workforce and improve their public image. Her consultation services usually ran about $10,000 for three sessions. She found that she was the cheapest corporate strategist in the industry and often used that as her selling point.
Natalie was one of only two black corporate strategists in Houston’s office of McLeigh and Associates and had close affiliations with every black organization from the NAACP to The Links. She became a powerful tool for companies that had pending discrimination or equal opportunity suits, and she made them pay dearly for her services.
As she wrote down her messages, she prioritized who she would return calls to. The clients with the largest potential payoff were always first. Clients with smaller pockets followed suit. Her sororit oftther professional organizations followed close behind. Friends and family were always last on the list, if they were fortunate enough to make the list at all.
By the time Natalie finished her list, she had to make appointments to see four CEOs, one Human Resources Director, return the call to her mother, her older brother, Eric and call the owner of the service station and let him hear the pathetic message that his underling, Rodney, left apologizing for his behavior.
Memories of their previous encounter returned to her and caused her anger to soar as Natalie shoved her hand in her purse to search for the business card of the owner that she grudgingly obtained from Rodney. She decided to replay her encounter with Rodney in her mind before she called to make sure that she did not omit any important details. She was certain that he would be fired for his behavior if her testimony were compelling enough.
As she reached for the phone, she was startled when it rang and picked it up without checking to see who was calling on the display unit.
“How’s my favorite high priced ho?” The female voice asked when Natalie picked up the phone.
“Just shakin’ my shit, daddy.” Natalie said as she burst out into laughter in response to her friend’s hilarious question.
She knew that it was an inside joke that only the two shared and thought about the evolution of their friendship.
“What are you doing tonight, because a sister needs to get her shake on.” Elise said to Natalie.
Elise was as close as Natalie could get to a best friend. They met at a gala four years for the 100 Black Men of Houston and found, to their surprise, that they had both dated the same man, at the same time. Jason Culbert was a fine as they come, and he had the female clientele to back it up. His ability to make women feel like they were his own personal goddess usually kept them content and unwilling to account for the nights he stood them up.
The night of the gala was no exception. He gave Natalie and Elise the same excuse for not attending and even had his mother validate his story. He simply overbooked himself for the night. The women thought too much of themselves to go at it like chicken heads when they found each other’s name listed next to his as spouse on the guest list for the event. Instead, they chose to make a $500 charitable donation on his behalf to P.R.I.D.E, one of the local homosexual lobbying organizations, and had his membership card and subscriptions of the monthly BOYS LOVE newsletter sent to his home and work address. Monthly contributions were continually made on Jason’s behalf and he quickly became a favored sponsor. He even found himself the unsuspecting recipient of hardcore gay porn, delivered to his parents’ address and at work, no less.
The women often reminded themselves of the look on his face when he was awarded Philanthropist of the Year for his generous support of the gay and lesbian community in front of his frat brothers and family. Together, Natalie and Elise orchestrated the event by convincing Jason, separately of course, that the Boys and Girls Club had chosen him as mentor of the year. Fed Ex delivered an “official letter” from the organization, and the ball was in play. After inviting all of his friends and family members, Jason received the surprise of his life and the women sipped champagne as they quietly celebrated their victory.
Embarrassed by the honor, and careful not to be too attentive to any one of the many females who came to celebrate “their man”, Jason suspiciously eyed the two and thought they were too tickled to blame it on the champagne. He confronted the women and forced their confessions, though they were laced with their contemptuous laughter. He called them “broke down high classed hoes” with nothing better to do with their time and stormed out of the reception hall. They laughed and danced all night and sealed a friendship born out of Jason’s betrayal.
“Girl, you heard me?” Elise quizzovef her friend who now seemed lost in her thoughts.
“Huh? Oh yeah, I heard you. I don’t think that I’ll be able to make it tonight, I have to finish up a lot here.” Natalie responded.
“That work aint goin’ nowhere. Child, how often do we get a girls night out? And anyway, I gotta’ show off my new friends.” Elise replied.
“Okay, I’m going to need for you to stop calling your fake assed titties new friends…I’m surprised your butt can even talk, cause you know you sounded like hell yesterday. I told you not to do it.” Natalie said laughingly to her friend.
“Look ho, they are not fake. They are one hundred percent saline. And anyway, I was laid up in the plastic surgeon’s office high as a kite and all you kept asking me was did I feel different. I sure did. 2 cup sizes bigger and about fifteen thousand broker. I don’t even remember the rest of our conversation, but I DO remember you hanging up on my ass.” Elise replied, sharing laughter with her friend.
“Fine, keep your salty titties. I hung up on you because you started talking some gibberish about grit’s or some shit. Girl, even when you high, you talk about food.” Natalie added.
The two women laughed, as they often did during their phone calls.
“Whatever is cleva, sugah’. I just want to get my party on and aint nothin’ like a little Demerol to get it started.”
“You know you’re a hot mess, right?”
“The hottest! You better know this. Shit, I had to sell three houses in 4 weeks for these girlies. You know I am going to write them off as a business expense on my taxes at the end of the year.” Elise said.
“And just how in the hell do you plan on doing that?” Natalie asked.
“Girl, they are a marketing tool. Do you know how many men are going to buy houses from me now? I might have a degree from Howard, but believe me, men don’t ask to see my resume when I tell them I am a real estate agent.” Elise said.
“What?” Natalie yelled as she listened to her friend’s explanation.
“It’s easier for a woman to sell men. They are impulse buyers. And they are most impulsive when they see a rack of tits and round ass. Girl, it’s supply and demand.” Elise replied again between chuckles.
“That’s it. I am hangin’ up on your crazy ass. You have really lost it this time.” Natalie replied, overcome with laughter.
“We’ll see when I start raking in the money. Those white girls do it all the time. I’m gonna’ take them on a test run tonight at the 12th Street Grill for happy hour. If I get more than three drinks for free, then I know they are sound investments”, Elise said assuredly.
“Well, take your ass on then. Are you gonna’ really go out right after you had surgery?” Natalie asked with concern.
“Do fat kids love cake?” Elise replied in a comedic tone.
“Do your thing, girl. Be careful and please
don’t fall up in someone’s house or bedroom again without knowing their name.” Natalie warned.
“Names are so formal.” Elise added and the women shared a laugh.
The two women ended the conversation the way tradition dictated. Natalie gave her best impression of a pimp and yelled, “Gimme’ twenty dollars.”
Elise always replied in a raspy voice playing the part of his overworked whore, “I aint got it , I aint got it”.
Natalie would return with fake anger, “broke assed ho”, and they would both hang up. The two ended their conversations about love, life, success, and family in the same fashion each time. It was their assurance that life was hard, but to never take it too seriously.
For Natalie, it was the only connection she made with another female and it validated her on many levels. Some might say it was the only normal thing about her.
After finishing her conversation with Elise, Natalie thought it best to retain her good mood and avoid calling Rodney’s manager. Instead, she returned the call to her largest client, Smith-Line Pharmaticals to arrange their next meeting. Her clients had just settled a class action lawsuit filed by Hispanic applicants who were not considered for sales positions because of their race. Natalie’s job was to help restore the company’s reputation of diversity and community involvement. While the company’s Human Resources Director informed Natalie that they typically hired people who had a “trustworthy and professional” appearance, it was common knowledge that the predominance of the industry was white men and women. One of the applicants suing the company had secretly acquired a recruitment report that stated: “Particular subgroups are not inclined to excel in sales sectors due to traditional inadequacies in public speaking and presentation and should be encouraged to pursue a more appropriate path of career modeling.” While cleverly worded, the statement blatantly endorsed discrimination and cost the company $86 million to settle out of court. Needless to say, the company execs were more than willing to hire a black corporate strategist and a Hispanic legal team to ensure such a thing never happened again. Natalie almost fainted when she was offered a $100,000 retainer and guaranteed fees of $500,000 for the consultation.
She created a campaign for them that would saturate the ethnic communities and middle classed white communities. She set up photo ops for the company CEO to deliver sizable checks to black and Hispanic community-revitalizing organizations. Partnerships with small minority-owned businesses were created that offered scholarships to disadvantaged students in the target zones that Natalie identified.
By securing invitations to high exposure events like the NAACP Trumpet Awards for her clients, she ensured her clients that they would have at least one photo op featured in Ebony.
She helped them to foster relationships with several Hispanic staffing agencies in the area and reconstituted the company’s employment policy to a gender-friendly and racially diverse code of ethics and practice. She suggested that the company institute a sales training program for associates in other areas of the company that expressed previous interest in sales and marketing.
In short, she did her damned thing. Always aware that her reputation was what paid her bills, Natalie never hesitated to stay long nights to complete her projects. Her clients both rescheduled and left her with a day to herself. It was rare. It was 4:00 when Natalie finished all of her professional calls and debated if she should call her mother back. She decided against it and started dialing her brother’s number when she was stunned by his reality.
“Hello, Logan residence.” A decidedly feminine and highpitched male voice said after the phone rang once.
Thrown off by the unfamiliar voice, Natalie asked, “May I speak with Eric, please?”
“And who might I say is calling?” The voice returned with an attitude of suspicion.
Natalie returned the sentiment and replied. “His sister, and who is this?”
Still defensive, the voice released a curious grunt. “His sister, huh? I got ya sister all right. Eric never said anything to me about having any sisters.” The young angelic male voice snapped.
“Probably because it’s none of your goddamned business. And who the hell are you anyway?” Natalie began to get angry at the voice keeping her from her brother.
“Oh no the hell you didn’t. I just know you didn’t curse me, fish. I am the queen bitch in this hive, but that has nothing to do with you dear.”
Natalie could not hold her anger.
“Look, you little faggot…”
CLICK.
The dial tone let Natalie know that the voice did not care for her choice of words and chose to end the call. Natalie’s fingers couldn’t dial the numbers fast enough as she prepared a barrage of curse words for the person that answered her brother’s phone. When she finished dialing the line was busy, which probably meant that the phone was deliberately taken off of the hook. As Natalie seethed, she wondered what mess her brother dragged in off the street and decided to call a “roommate” this time.
Her phone rang and interrupted her line of thought. It was her brother calling back.
“So what the hell was that?” Natalie asked her brother as she picked up the phone.
“Sorry about that sis, you know how the children can be. Always thinking somebody wants to take their stash. What’s cracka-lackin’ witcha’?” Eric asked his sister.
Natalie attempted to calm herself.
“Aint a thing but the rent. Speaking of rent, who is the new roommate?” Natalie asked, careful to place the emphasis on mate.
“Just a new little toy, oops, I mean boy. You know it can get cold at night and don’t nothing keep you warm like some hot chocolate.” Eric responded with a particularly feminine tone that Natalie had seldom heard. It sounded like a Jerry Springer sound bite. She realized how much she didn’t like it instantly.
“Is that right?” Natalie asked, annoyed with her older brother’s careless attitude towards his sexual partners.
“Yes it ‘tis sugar, but I know that you didn’t call for that, so what’s goin’ on with you?” Eric answered, desperately trying to move the conversation away from his love life and the inevitable hell and brimstone speech that would follow.
His sister recognized his desire and followed suit.
“I was returning your call, remember? You left me a message today.” Natalie answered.
“Oh yes, honey! Did mommy dearest call you today? You know I already had my dose and I had to share the healing, halleluyer!” Eric said mocking his mother’s normal religious zeal.
“Boy, you know you aint right. I talked to her this morning, but you know how that went. She wanted to make sure that I was coming back to Maryland for the christening. I’ll probably go, but I promise, I will be drunk the whole time.” Natalie said to her brother as she chuckled.
“Then pass the Patron, ‘cause Lord knows can’t nobody drive you to drink like sister Rosemary Logan. Honestly, I get so tired of faking straight for her. She still says that I am only pretending to be gay. She even asked me if I was going to bring Tara to Maryland.” Eric said in an exasperated tone.
“You don’t mean your ex-girlfriend from eight years ago when you were in college?” Natalie asked amusingly.
“None other.” Eric paused to swallow what was likely a shot of something trendy and alcoholic. “I barely kissed that girl. Shit, I was only with her because I had a crush on her brother, but your mother insisted that I invite the poor girl to our house for Thanksgiving dinner. I think she had to prove to herself and daddy that I wasn’t gay. But then again, daddy always said he knew I was gonna be a faggot.” Eric said with resignation in his voice.
“Now Eric, you know damned well daddy never said that to you. Momma maybe, daddy wouldn’t say that.” Natalie said in defense of her father.
“There you go, always defending dear old dad. When are you going to get it through your head that our family is fucked up? But don’t worry, everybody’s got their own cross to bear, so you cope accordingly, I gu
ess.” Eric said.
“Now you are trippin’. Why are you always on some I-hatethe world shit? You can’t blame family for your mistakes. Nobody stuck a dick in your mouth and told you to be gay.” Natalie said to her brother. She regretted her tone and bluntness, but chose not to back down.
Taken back by her blunt remark, Eric collected his thoughts and replied.
“Hold the fuck on, Dr. Phil. Rather you like it or not, all of us are fucked up. Your cute little degrees don’t stop your ass from being crazy as hell and cutting yourself. Your sister keeps breeding for a negro that will never see the light of day, let alone raise her kids. And daddy hates living so much, he’s drunk more than he’s sober. And while you mention it, someone did stick a dick in my mouth, but everybody thought it was easier to ignore that it was our favorite uncle that did it. You know, our little Logan family secret. But of course you know, don’t you?” Eric asked with venom in his voice.
CLICK.
Natalie hung up the phone and the tears flooded down her face. Her brother was the only person that she confided in when her father’s best friend, who she was taught to call an uncle, came into her bedroom at night.
She still felt his fingers that were sticky with oil from a car’s engine, moving up her nightgown as a child. She remembered the filth on her cotton panties stained with his DNA and her blood. He always made her give them to him so that her mother would never find them. She never felt clean after those nights. She would use borax to scrub her legs, but somewhere in her mind, the stains never went away.
The impulse to cut herself always emerged when she relived those nights. With every slash she felt like she was cutting away his dirty little fingers. In her mind, that was the only way to remove the stains he left. When her wounds healed, the stains came back.
She would struggle for years to explain to countless psychologists and psychiatrists why she felt good after she cut herself. If only she could make them really understand that she wasn’t crazy. In fact, cutting made her feel…normal.
Natalie was startled by the voice of her assistant. “Natalie, I have your brother on line two and he says it’s urgent.”
A Price to Pay for Everything Page 5