by Kyra Davis
I laughed politely but I couldn’t help feeling envious. Allie had a family full of people who wanted to look out for her. Maybe their tactics needed a little refining but it was still a lot better than not having family support at all—which, I reminded myself, was not my situation. I had Tad and Bobe, plus I had a new pair of CK boots that were almost like family.
Allie sighed, oblivious to my internal monologue. “I really don’t see what everybody’s so worried about. I’ll meet someone, right?”
I lowered my spoon, surprised by the insecurity in Allie’s voice. “Of course you’ll meet someone. Besides, I thought you were dating that guitarist guy, Paul.”
“Yeah, but I can tell that one’s not going anywhere. I know my soul mate’s out there somewhere. I always wanted to marry before thirty and I can still make that happen.”
“Of course you can!” I smiled encouragingly. I had never heard Allie talk about marriage. She had always seemed so content with single life I had just assumed that she was going to be a confirmed bachelorette until she was at least forty. After all, dancing on top of the bars at nightclubs didn’t seem like the behavior of a woman who was looking for a husband.
“And look at how it all fell into place for you and Tad,” Allie added. “You met, started dating and six months later you were man and wife, so if I use your relationship as an example, then I shouldn’t have to worry about finding Mr. Wonderful until I’m twenty-nine and a half.”
I looked away. Although things with Tad were better, I wasn’t sure anyone should use my relationship as an example. Nonetheless, the fact that she was envious of me just confirmed my decision to be thankful for everything.
As if on cue Tad rang my cell phone. I held up a finger to indicate to Allie that I would only be a moment and pressed the Talk button. “What’s up?”
“We landed another client—a big one, April.”
“Tad, that’s fantastic!”
“You have no idea. By the fifteenth of next month I’ll have made enough money to pay off the credit card with enough left over to buy you a little something special at Tiffany’s.”
I laughed. “Just pay off the card and I’ll be happy.”
“This is just the beginning. In another year I should be making well over two hundred thousand a year, and a few years after that, who knows? We could be looking at millions.”
I bit gently down on my tongue. Tad was getting ahead of himself again. But still, if he thought he was going to be making two hundred grand then surely he’d be able to pull off a hundred and twenty. That was enough to keep financial issues from causing undue stress on our relationship even if he did charge up the occasional credit card. “I’m thrilled for you, Tad.”
“Don’t be thrilled for me, be thrilled for us. We’re going straight to the top. Sean or Eric won’t be getting in my way now. We are going to be rolling in it.”
There was something in Tad’s attitude that disturbed me but I suppressed my instinct to analyze it. I reminded myself to stop questioning everything and go with the flow. I looked up to see Allie watching me inquisitively.
“Tad, I’ve got to get going. Maybe we can celebrate tonight?”
“I’m going to be working late tonight, maybe even after midnight. I have to make sure that this new account is handled perfectly. You understand?”
“Of course,” I assured him. “We’ll celebrate tomorrow. Oh wait, don’t you have that business trip to L.A. tomorrow?”
“No, that’s the day after. Tomorrow night’s ours.”
“Sounds good. I’ll call your office when I’m done with work.”
“Why don’t I call you instead? After six I’m having my incoming calls automatically forwarded to voice mail so I can concentrate.”
I gave Allie an apologetic smile. I made a gesture with my hands to imitate Tad’s run-on of the mouth. “Fine, you call me. But now I’ve got to go.”
“I understand. I love you, April. I don’t think I would have been motivated to do any of this if you weren’t a part of my life.”
“I’m not sure that’s true, but I’m not stupid enough to spend a lot of time convincing you otherwise. I’ll talk to you later.”
I hung up and returned my phone to my purse.
“What was that all about?” Allie asked before polishing off the last bites of her bread roll.
“Oh, Tad just landed another big client. He seems to think that he’s on his way to being the next Bill Gates.”
“Men and their egos. If they couldn’t brag about their cars, bank accounts, sexual prowess or athletic ability they wouldn’t know how to maintain a conversation.” She patted the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “Speaking of careers, how’re things going with Blakely? Any more word on your imminent promotion?”
“Actually I was planning on going to Blakely’s office right after this to make sure that I’m still her favored candidate.”
Allie arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t know that was in question—Wait, did that little bitch Gigi tell her that you were preg—”
“I have no idea what Gigi told her,” I said quickly. “It’s just that Blakely hasn’t been by the department for a while and I’m beginning to think that something’s changed…but maybe not.” I shrugged. “Whatever the case may be, the time has come for me to pucker up and get promoted. If I’m going to stay at Dawson’s, then I might as well have a higher-paying job.”
Allie slid her straw up and down in the lid of her drink. “Just watch out for Gigi. I’m telling you, that one has claws.”
“Maybe…it seems like she’s been behaving differently around me since she found those vitamins, but then again she’s been Miss Congeniality today. She’s working the closing shift and she waltzed in two hours early and presented me with a double latte. She even offered to watch the floor so I could enjoy my beverage in peace. As far as I know, nothing’s changed at work, so it stands to reason that her attitude is being affected by some outside source.”
Allie smiled. “Maybe she got lucky last night. Can you imagine Gigi having sex?” Allie flipped her hair and batted her eyes. “Ohmygawd,” she squealed in an exaggerated impersonation of Gigi. “Your penis is, like, so totally big! Oh and FYI, this month’s Details says that adult circumcisions are all the rage—you should so totally do it.”
I willed myself to swallow my Diet Coke before erupting into peels of laughter.
I knocked on Blakely’s door tentatively at first and then with some force. Clearly I could no longer assume that I was a shoo-in for the promotion, so if I wanted it I would have to exude a contagious level of confidence.
Blakely opened the door. She shared the office with the junior-wear buyer, but she and her assistant appeared to be out. Cherise wasn’t there either, which meant that Blakely had probably sent her to another store to check up on some poor unsuspecting manager. My timing couldn’t have been more perfect.
Blakely raised an eyebrow at me and offered a closed-lip smile that was so devoid of warmth that she might as well have just cut to the chase and given me the finger.
“Shouldn’t you be on the sales floor, April?”
I tried not to let her see how much her greeting had cut me. “Gigi’s on the floor and I’m at the tail end of my break.” That was a lie; my break had ended fifteen minutes ago but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt me. “I was hoping you had a moment.”
Blakely nodded curtly and motioned for me to enter. I waited for her to sit in her chair before finding one for myself. I selected Cherise’s. After all, I was beginning to suspect that it would be my only chance to sit in it.
Blakely checked her watch and I decided I should get straight to the point just in case she was timing me.
“Blakely, I’ve come to talk to you about the assistant position.”
“Ah, so you heard about Cherise. That was fast.”
It took me all of two seconds to gauge her meaning. “You fired her today.”
“She should have cleaned out her desk imm
ediately, but she got emotional and ran out. If she doesn’t get her things by the end of the day I’ll let Housekeeping take care of it.”
Was she kidding? Who the hell was this woman, the Bride of Frankenstein? On second thought, she wasn’t good enough for Frankenstein; she lacked his humanity. I kept my gaze firmly on Blakely so I wouldn’t inadvertently glimpse the family pictures on Cherise’s desk. “Well, I’m sorry Cherise didn’t work out, but I’m very excited about the opportunity—”
“You’re welcome to apply for the position, April, but you should know that I am also considering Nina from 547.”
The bleached-blond Latina chick; I should have seen that one coming. But I couldn’t give up at this point. If Nina’s promotion was a done deal, Blakely would have said so immediately. She never chose to drag things out when the alternative was to stab someone in the heart and be done with it. I took a deep breath. “Nina is a very good manager,” I said in my best interview voice. “However, as I’m sure you’re aware, my numbers have been consistently better than hers….”
“Marginally,” Blakely said. “And you have location on your side. When you consider that her store is in an area where the majority of the local residents have recently been laid off, her ability to keep up with your successes speaks greatly in her favor.”
True. That was the problem with Blakely, she was too reasonable—hateful bigots should always be unreasonable, otherwise they risk screwing up a perfectly good stereotype.
I cleared my throat and started again. “You’re right, I do have location on my side and working at the flagship store has given me insights into what Sassy and Dawson’s is all about, insights I wouldn’t have gotten if I was working at 547.”
Blakely studied me carefully. I’m pretty certain that Blakely won all the staring contests in grade school. She crossed her legs carefully so as not to wrinkle her D&G skirt. “I have known that I needed to let Cherise go for some time now, long before I spoke to you about it. I have simply been biding my time until I found a suitable candidate to replace her—No, I take that back.” Blakely held an index finger up as if to check herself. “I was looking for someone who was more than suitable. I needed someone exemplary. After watching you for a few months I decided that you were that person. You are a wonderful merchandiser and you have a fantastic eye. Your personal sales are mediocre but that doesn’t concern me. I am one of the few people at Dawson’s who recognizes that good salesmanship is not a necessity for buying.”
I hated it when Blakely made herself seem superior to her peers, and I hated it more when the reasons she gave to support that attitude held up.
“But things have changed,” Blakely continued. “Now I think that you may need this promotion more than I need you.”
A little spark of anger ignited inside me and I struggled to keep it concealed. “I do want this promotion, Blakely, but if I don’t get it I’m happy to continue to hone my skills while managing Sassy.”
Blakely shook her head, her eyes never leaving mine. “You won’t last much longer on the sales floor. You’re slipping, April, and it’s only a matter of time before Liz decides to pull the rug out from under you.”
“Liz has been very happy with me lately,” I snapped.
“She’s happy with your department and she’s happy with Gigi, but with you?” Blakely raised an eyebrow. “Ever since you got engaged you’ve been noticeably distracted. I suppose that’s normal, but the problem’s gotten worse instead of better. Your heart’s not in it. I’m not sure it ever really was, but you always managed to hide it well. Now it’s obvious, particularly when your enthusiasm is held in comparison to Gigi’s.”
“So this is about Gigi,” I said through gritted teeth. Fucking Napoleonette, someone ought to send the bitch to Corsica.
Blakely gave me another one of her cold smiles. “Gigi is the only reason you’ve made it this far without being spoken to.” She leaned forward. “You know, April, you’re not as perceptive as you think you are.”
The spark had grown into a full-blown wildfire. “Oh, really?” I asked sweetly. “Well, I know why you fired Cherise.”
Now Blakely looked amused. “And why would that be?”
“Because she’s black,” I shot back, and then gasped, immediately realizing how much that slip of the tongue was going to cost me. I had just completely screwed up any chance I had of being promoted. I briefly entertained the idea of backpedaling but it was hopeless. And if it was hopeless I might as well lay it all out on the table.
I sat up a little straighter and squared my shoulders. “You and I both know it’s true, and please don’t bother pointing out that Nina and I are minorities, too, because in your mind we’re different. Unlike Nina and me, Cherise acts black. She peppers her speech with what I’m sure you consider ghetto slang,” I said, moving closer to the edge of my chair. “She has braids, and she’s the first one to say something whenever she sees Dawson’s security team resorting to racial profiling—which you probably think the company would be grateful for, considering that Dawson’s has had to settle out of court over that issue God only knows how many times. But the point is she has a little too much flavor to fit into your lily-white view of the world, so you fired her and now you’re trying to replace her with a female version of Colin Powell.”
Blakely leaned back in her chair as if considering what I had said. Finally she focused her attention on me again. Nothing in her appearance indicated that I had hit any kind of nerve or even fazed her. “If you’re asking if I like Cherise personally, the answer is no.”
I hadn’t been asking that or anything else but it was nice of her to confirm my assertions. Maybe Cherise and I could get together and file a nice little class action suit.
“However,” Blakely continued, “my decision to get rid of her had nothing to do with personal feelings. It’s the way the people I work for feel about her that bothered me. An assistant’s job is to make her immediate supervisor look good. Cherise can’t do that because of the way she is. I suppose you would call that institutionalized racism, but it’s much simpler than that. It’s just politics.”
I felt my heart pick up the pace. I had an inkling that Blakely was on to something and that scared me.
Blakely waved away a small fly with her well-manicured hand. “There’s a certain kind of person that the Dawson’s powers that be respond to. There’s a Dawson’s personality-type spectrum. Gigi is on one end—the good end, and Cherise is on the other. In other words, Cherise is not one of us and she never will be.”
“And I am?” I asked. For some reason I didn’t find the thought comforting.
“You could be. I’ve seen you fake it before and that’s all that’s really necessary. Wave an occasional pom-pom at an Appreciation Meeting and tell Liz that the new merchandise is ‘to die for’ and you’re in. It was a learned behavior for me but I’ve mastered it and, when necessary, I can cheer with the best of them. Every company has its own religion, so to speak. You either convert or you need to move on.”
The room went silent. I recognized that Blakely had asked me an unspoken question, but I wasn’t sure how to respond. Could I convert? To some degree I already had, but not entirely, and as Blakely pointed out I was quickly losing my ability to fake it. Faking a personality type was a lot harder than faking an orgasm, although in this case the level of enthusiasm expected of me was about the same.
“I meant it when I said you have a good eye, April.” Blakely’s voice had taken on a coaxing tone that I hadn’t heard from her before. “You could be an asset to this office. You just need to put aside whatever has been distracting you and focus your energy on being the kind of person who succeeds here.”
I had been too wrapped up in the chaos going on in my own life. But that wasn’t a good excuse, because Dawson’s was supposed to be my life and it wasn’t. I wasn’t sure I wanted it to be.
“Think about it,” Blakely said. “If you can mold yourself to fit the company then I would be thrilled to offe
r you the job.”
“I’ll think about it.” I rose to my feet and walked out of her office and down to the sales floor.
I stood in the middle of my department and tried to come to grips with what had just happened. Blakely basically told me that she was willing to give me what I wanted. But there was a price to pay, and it was terrifyingly high.
TWENTY-ONE
“Are you kidding?” Allie squealed. “Take it! I would put on a pleated skirt and do backflips in a second if I thought it would get me into the buying office.”
She, Caleb and I had gone to our favorite North Beach bar and were currently rehashing the day’s events over a round of lemon drops.
Caleb shot Allie a withering look. “You’re not April.” He rubbed his finger against the sugar that was rimming his glass. “Allie told me earlier that Tad’s income has increased. Is that right?”
I nodded. “That’s the word on the street.”
Caleb watched a young Puerto Rican man in a marginally sheer shirt scoot past our table. “Are you sure that it’s enough to cover all of Tad’s…expenses?”
Allie gave him a funny look and I kicked him under the table. “This last pay hike has taken care of all that.” I still hadn’t told Allie about all the financial stuff and I certainly wasn’t prepared to get into it now. Besides, things were fine. Tad was still spending money like it grew on trees but apparently his company was a virtual orchard. Each one of his paychecks seemed to be a little bigger than the last and I often witnessed him write the checks to his various credit card companies so we weren’t delinquent or anything. We weren’t saving a lot but saving seemed to be a concept that was too complicated for most people under the age of thirty-five to grasp. In other words we were normal and that’s all I ever asked for.
Caleb raised his glass and saluted the sheer-shirt guy who was now watching him from the bar. “In that case,” he said without taking his eyes off his latest object of desire, “why don’t you quit Dawson’s and go back to school for your Ph.D.?”