The primary reason for the success of the chain in Atlanta was that the owners were forward thinking and closed the facility completely to the public and only engaged professional sports teams for contracts. The teams that played the Falcons, Hawks, or even the Braves often used the facility as a practice arena when outside conditions or scheduling did not permit it, and from time to time played exhibition games to test their skills.
The men hoped the chain would be lucrative in D.C. since the Redskins were under new management and the Ravens franchise was gaining momentum quickly. Marc was offered a 5% draw in the profit’s if he could line up all of the subcontractors and create a working management plan within three months.
He won the bid when he flew to Atlanta to attend his father’s sixtieth birthday party and met up with one of the owners, who just happened to be a frat brother. The next day they went over the timeline and tentative budget, and the deal was set. Marc was going to draw an additional five percent of $3 million if the project successfully completed it’s five phases of development on time. Marc would then assume the role as General Manager of Operations, and eventually draw a larger percentage of the profits.
Marc chose not the mention this to the company that he worked for. He knew that they would say that he was in violation of their employment agreement and would fire his ass without hesitation. Rather, he chose to wait until his first check was signed and deposited safely in his the account in Trinidad that he kept for such instances.
He had disclosed this information to no one except his father, who was the master of discretion. He vividly recalled secrets that he and his father shared from his youth that his mother remained ignorant of, even after twenty-five or more years. He struggled with his decision not to tell his father about Sherise, but decided that he would tell him only after the ordeal was over with.
His mind returned to thoughts of Sherise, and he became anxious at the thought of her busting into his office loud and causing a scene. He decided that he would face her head on as he grabbed his coat and headed out of the door.
As the yellow cab pulled up to the curb in front of A Hair Affair Beauty Salon, Marc pulled himself together for what he knew would be an ugly confrontation with Sherise. He gave the driver a ten-dollar bill and asked him to wait. The driver immediately told him no and dismissed what would surely be a suicide mission in the neighborhood that the aged hair salon was in.
Southeast DC was nowhere for a man dressed in a five hundred dollar Brooks Brother suit that looked like he was two shades the wrong way. Attempting to act unmoved by his environment, Marc ignored the stench of urine that turned to ammonia as he walked toward the salon in Southeast Washington, DC.
When he entered the dark salon, all eyes were immediately fixed on him. Conversations about sorry baby daddies and long throaty laughs all ceased in one instant. A marked hush fell across the room as women with their hair undone shrank in their seats from embarrassment. Marc scanned the room for Sherise but did not see her. Just as he was about to step closer to the women, a dark skinned woman with shiny black hair and glossy pink lips stepped forward.
“Can I help you?” The woman asked in her attempt at flirtation. She stood with her hands on hips that were masked by the black styling jacket that she wore.
Marc could still detect the roundness in her hips and ass as he looked at her. Too bad she’s so damned ghetto.
“Yes, is Sherise here?” Marc asked, sure to flash a warm smile.
This melted the receptionist/har stylist, who thought it necessary to smile in return, revealing a row of perfectly white teeth separated by a gap at least an inch wide. Because of this, the woman spoke with a lisp.
“Who, Shay? Oh yeah, she went to get something to eat. She should be right back, though. You got her cell number?” The receptionist asked Marc in an attempt to gauge his relationship with Sherise.
Shay?
“Actually, I do, but I’ll just wait here. She doesn’t know I’m waiting for her.” Marc said hoping that this would discourage the receptionist from pursuing him.
His statement seemed to intrigue the woman and discourage her at the same time as she raised her eyebrows and mouthed “okay”. She added some swing in her hips as she turned and walked away. She made a smirk as she turned her back to him. The other women thought this was hilarious and burst into a roar of laughter.
Marc decided to ignore this as he sat on the filthy couch waiting on Sherise. After about a minute or so, the women resumed their conversations and Marc listened intently while pretending to peruse his palm pilot.
After about ten minutes, Sherise walked through the door with a greasy brown bag and a wide grin. The women’s eyes then turned to Marc sitting to her left in the corner.
Her face instantly grew dim as she recognized his face. She looked right through him and started walking towards her styling station. Marc tried to head off her by walking towards her and looking into her eyes. He felt a flush of emotion, but struggled to remain level headed in front of the growing audience.
“You know we gotta talk right?” He said as he hovered over her five-six frame.
“What about?” Sherise asked in a nonchalant tone that seemed to dismiss Marc’s anguish.
“Why haven’t you returned any of my calls?” Marc attempted in a hushed tone. Noting this, Sherise decided not to indulge her audience any more and headed outside. Marc instinctively followed her.
“Just what the fuck are you doing here?” Sherise screamed as soon as the salon door closed. Marc returned the animosity.
“Look, I really don’t need this shit, Sherise. You play too many fucking games, and this shit is ridiculous. You are a grown assed woman, why are you acting like a child?” Marc said.
“Oh, but I bet I wasn’t a little girl when we was fucking, though.” Sherise answered with contempt.
“Sherise, please with that bullshit! Yeah, we fucked. So what? What the fuck do you want from me? I told you from the start, I don’t want…” Marc started.
“You know what, damn all of this. You want to go? Bounce muthafucka’! Aint nobody beggin’ you to stay. I sure as hell didn’t ask your ass to show up here. In fact, this fucking conversation is over and you need not come back because we don’t have shit to talk about.” Sherise said as she reached for the door handle.
Marc grabbed her arm and in a single motion pulled her back so that she was facing him.
“I think you better get your hands off of me.” Sherise said in a taunting tone.
“Or what? I am sick of your stupid assed threats. I can’t wait for this shit to be over.” Marc said angrily as he forcefully pushed Sherise’s arm away. He saw the red and purple ring he left on the part of her forearm that he held. He was apologetic but refused to let it show.
“You aint the only one muthafucka. I really hate the fact that I ever let you in sniffin’ distance, because you aint shit.” Sherise answered.
Marc was incensed by her comment.
“It wasn’t that hard. Shit, everybody on this block probably already had a piece of you. I was just the only employed one. But it’s cool. I’ll pay whatever I need to get your ghetto ass away from me for good.” Marc said.
As soon as Marc finished, tears begin to well in Sherise’s eyes. He knew that he went too far. She stared at him as if he had just stabbed her in the heart, but could not bring herself to words. She sucked her teeth and willed her tears away.
“You know what Joe, you aint all of that. Just because these …Man, I aint even goin’ there. Let’s just get this shit over with.” Sherise whimpered, trying to prevent her voice from cracking.
“Sherise, I’m …” Marc started.
“Don’t…Let’s just handle it and act like we never met, for real. I already made an appointment for next Tuesday at 10:30. It’s at the Women’s Gynecological Center on 18th and U Street, near the metro. It’s going to be four twenty five, so we can split the cost.” Sherise said in a defeated tone, knowing that Marc would gladly off
er all of the money.
Marc didn’t know exactly how to respond, but knew he had to say something.
“I will go with you if you want me to. I have a meeting next week, but I can cancel it. I know that this is going to be hard for you, and you didn’t do this by yourself.” Marc said in an apologetic tone.
“Don’t worry about it, I can do it myself. I might as well get used to not seeing you anyway.” Sherise said in a decidedly helpless tone.
“Sherise, I am sorry that things turned out this way. I really think that you are a cool person, but I am just not ready for fatherhood. If things were different, who knows? But I know that this is good for you too, with you trying to open your own salon and get your own place? Having a baby would change all of that. Right?” Marc asked, hoping to lead Sherise to the answer he needed to hear.
“Yeah, I guess. But I don’t like the way you tryin’ to carry me.” Sherise responded, her anger beginning to resurface.
Marc recognized this and decided to handle her with care to avoid another ugly exchange.
“I’m not trying to carry you, it’s just that I don’t know how to take you. I mean, we have sex on the same night we met, and you said that you understood when I told you that I didn’t want anything serious right now. Then you flipped when I suggested an abortion.” Marc said.
The word abortion seemed to take Sherise’s breath away. The situation became that much more real to her. She had to face an unwelcome reality. The man that she secretly watched for months and plotted to “causally bump into” did not want the child that she was carrying. She replayed in her mind how she saw him at a Big Brother function that her little brother was involved in. She schemed and planned the perfect coincidental meeting at Love Nightclub. She even bought a conservative, but revealing suit from Filene’s to impress him. To make sure that he wanted to take her home, she slipped the bartender a fifty for the opportunity to deliver his drink to him, which gave her the perfect opportunity to lace it with a liquefied form of Ecstasy.
He played right into her plan, and together they would become a family. She was ready to enter his world of monogrammed shirts and overpriced artwork, rather he was a willing participant or not. But as he uttered the word “abortion”, she felt her dream of being a pampered wife and socialite slip from her fingers.
She decided not to make herself his enemy and quietly acquiesced as he gave her a fifteen hundred dollar check. He told her that he wanted her to treat herself to a day at the spa the week after the procedure was over. He assured her that he would be at the office with her to hold her hand through it, and to make sure that she got home safely.
With this, he gave her a half-hearted hug and waved a taxi. As the taxi disappeared in the distance, Sherise could not help but think about the luxurious home that he was enroute to, a home full of shiny leather furniture and overstuffed down pillows.
On the night of their interlude, she roamed the house as he slept. She sat on his blonde hardwood floors and warmed herself by the oversized marble and jade fireplace. She peered at his collection of African American art by Paul Goodnight, Annie Lee, and yes, even a Romare Bearden. She heard about the latter artist when she worked as a valet parker aFreer Gallery when there was an exhibit of his artwork by invitation only. She knew that the painting was worth at least $20,000. It was then that she decided that she was going to be Mrs. Marchevis Dunbar Campbell.
The yellow taxicab became a tiny blurb of color in the distance and Sherise turned to enter the hair salon that now looked even more gray and dingy. The stench of the urine caused her to vomit for what seemed like hours.
When she was done, she rubbed her marginally swollen stomach and smiled. Carefully, she reviewed the check that Marc wrote and placed it in her well made imitation Chanel purse. She waved a cab for herself and made a decision. Smiling, she told the cab driver to take her to Bank of America and exhaled as she disappeared from the stench and grime of her past life.
Chapter 10 Natalie
Pay back is a bitch. As Natalie sat in the Smith-Line Pharmaceuticals meeting room, she found herself reflecting this very point. There she sat with the CEO, Thomas Paxton, Arlinda Ramirez, the newly hired HR director, and a room full of nerdy corporate attorneys wishing that she were somewhere else. They all shared the same mission, defending the company against claims of reverse discrimination launched by current white employees.
The employees organized themselves and threatened a class action suit if their requests were not met. Recognizing the changing trends in their company and it’s newly vested interest in minorities, other groups sought the advice of an attorney who instructed them that this was a blatant display of discriminatory practice and went against the company’s equal opportunity mission statement.
The company’s bylaws were carefully crafted and all but defecated on the notion of granting any group preference for reasons other than performance and seniority. Now, after Natalie’s tireless efforts, the ethnic immersion project that Natalie spearheaded concentrated on bringing more attention to the company’s diversity was under attack by it’s white employees.
She foolishly assumed that the whites in the company were going to be okay as long as their positions weren’t jeopardized. To her disappointment, an over zealous CEO all but eradicated white management positions, which ultimately worsened the original problem. Yet again, they were caught with their proverbial hands in the cookie jar.
“So now what? We took care of the Hispanics and the blacks and now the white employees are offended? Just what the hell are we supposed to do now?” Thomas asked to a roomful of blank stares and intimidated glances.
One particularly brazen male attorney decided to respond. Heath Andersen was one of the less nerdy attorneys that specialized in contractual law.
Mentally, Natalie had given herself to this man on many occasions, each time leaving her exhausted and in need of a change of underwear. She even created the details of his life in accordance with the love affair they maintained in the recesses of her mind.
Natalie imagined him going to small, quaint coffee shops with her and coming home to a sparsely furnished condo with a few expensive pieces.
She saw him owning extravagant skin and body lotions that smelled of sandalwood and citrus At least, that was the scent that lingered when he brushed past her to get to his seat at the long executive meeting table. After three reconnaissance visit’s to Bergdorf’s, she found out that the fragrance was called Borghese and was priced at $150 an ounce.
Heath was a mesmerizing sight. His brilliantly colored form was a contrast to the large black chair that he commanded. He seemed out of place in his crisp white shirt and European tie that was loosened just enough to reveal the trace of a ribbed wife beater beneath it. His body was perfectly sculpted with just the right balance of toned muscle and a thickness that made him irresistible. His demeanor suggested that he was aware of the fact that he was born to be a model, but chose to becomea lawyer to show another dimension of himself.
When he rose to speak, both of the women in the room focused their attention squarely on him, fully prepared to lavish him with the undivided attention that his presence demanded. He captured the perfect natural lighting of the sun that beamed from the floor to ceiling windows of the conference room, which lent him the look of a Greek Adonis as his olive colored skin struggled to compete with the naturally curly dark hair that spilled carelessly from his head. Aware of his captivated audience, he began to speak.
“Tom, I gotta tell you, I actually don’t think we should rush to a response with this one. Because they extended a settlement resolution with their suit, they want to avoid litigation. This means one of two things. Either they don’t have substantial evidence that will hold up in court, or they can’t finance a long drawn out proceeding. Either way, the ball is in our court.” Heath said confidently as he took his seat.
Thomas’ face turned beet red as he responded to the statement. “How the hell can you say that? The media alone w
ill crucify us, not to mention the fact that our stock prices have been declining since their press release. The shareholders will have our asses if we screw this up anymore. We can’t afford to roll over and let this ride like some type of cunt case.” Tom Paxton said, carefully avoiding the eyes of Arlinda and Natalie.
A “cunt case” was what the big execs at the company called sexual harassment claims filed by what they thought were women more than willing to spread their legs to advance in the company. The company stance was usually to settle out of court with the agreement that the women would not seek any further damages or violate a discretionary clause prohibiting them from discussing the case or seeking further damages. Though this was immoral and swimmingly illegal, the women usually took the deal in hopes that it would give them leverage in the company. While they were typically promoted to higher management positions, their pay was far inferior to men in the position that they held, and they often resigned due to their recognition of the catch twenty two that they hastily plunged themselves into.
It was rumored that Arlinda was one of the women that benefited from such a questionable rise to position. Perhaps it was why she gasped when Tom made the lewd comment, despite his audience. The fact that her position was at best, a conciliatory gift, forced her to retain her silence, though she was moved to outrage. Natalie could not hold her contempt.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Paxton. It’s unfortunate that we are in this position, but it’s comments like those that will keep us in them.” Natalie said careful not to sound too emotional and discredit the impact of her statement.
“Absolutely Tom. If you’re going to act like a pig, at least grant us the graces of doing it behind our backs.” Arlinda said after summoning the courage.
Taken aback, Tom grunted and shook his head. Natalie was in his line of fire and he secretly blamed her for the current fiasco.
“Look ladies, I didn’t mean to offend you, but you’re playing with the big boys now. If we can’t be brutally honest here, then what’s the point?” Tom asked in a tone that suggested that he resented their presence.
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