“Victoria, I think you’re overreacting. You need to be more open-minded.”
Victoria ignored her statement. “Debbie, he was loud, obnoxious and completely uncouth. But I’ve saved the best for last. Let me tell you the absolute worst part of this bullshit date, and the real reason why I’m so upset! That idiot told me he was making an exception by going out with me because he normally only dates light skinned women, but because I have a nice ass and good hair, I get a pass. Then he told me that he puts on his “good guy” act for white folks . . . like you . . . to make y’all feel comfortable with his stupid ass,” Victoria huffed. “I should’ve walked away when I first saw him, but nooooo, I was trying to be open-minded!” she shouted, ending her tirade.
“Oh shit,” Debbie whispered in a low voice. “Victoria, I’m so sorry. I had no idea Vincent was like that. I guess I made a terrible, terrible mistake.”
“I can’t believe Rob thought that asshole was cool. He usually has better judgment about people.”
“Well, actually . . . um . . . he and Rob only played basketball one time. Vincent’s in my aerobics class, and honestly, he seemed so nice. When I found out he was single, I immediately thought about you. You know, because it’s been so long since you’ve gone out with anyone. Not since . . . ”
“Don’t say his name,” Victoria snapped.
“I wasn’t going to . . . Victoria, you’re my friend and I care about you. It’s been a year . . .”
There was a silent pause.
Debbie was one of the most sincere and caring people Victoria knew, and was sensitive to a fault. She knew that her friend meant well, and she felt bad for yelling at her. “I guess I should’ve talked to that fool myself before agreeing to go out with him. And you’re right, I do need to start dating again, this just wasn’t the guy to do it with,” she said, softening her tone.
“I’m really, really sorry,” Debbie apologized again. “So . . . do you forgive me? Are we cool?”
“Yes, I forgive you. And we’re always cool, you know that.”
“Good,” Debbie breathed with relief. “Hey, are you still meeting us at Sambuca tomorrow night? You better say yes, I’ll even buy all your drinks . . . it’s the least I can do.”
Damn, I forgot about tomorrow night, Victoria sighed to herself. She’d promised her friends she would join them, and she knew that if she bailed out once again she’d never hear the end of it. “It’s time for you to start going out again,” she could hear them saying. So in spite of her reluctance, she told Debbie she would be there.
After ending their call, Victoria pulled into the ViaTech parking garage and headed into the building. She tried to brush off her frustration as she rode the elevator up to her office, but all she could think about was the name that Debbie had almost called out, and the pain that still lingered from the man tied to it.
The Nerve...
Victoria sat at her desk and checked her email as she filled Denise in on the details of her horrifying lunch date.
“Girlfriend, tell me you’re lyin’!” Denise said, shaking her head.
“I lie to you not.”
“Humph, that’s a damn shame for anyone to act that way. His attitude was loud and wrong. My grandmother always said to stay clear of people with two first names . . . can’t be trusted.”
Victoria nodded, but then frowned as she read her most recent message. “I just got an email from Patricia. This woman is so obnoxious.”
“What does it say?”
“Brace yourself for this,” Victoria said as she read the email aloud.
Date: Fri. October 1 2:01 p.m.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: SME Report: URGENT!
I want to make sure you have the SME report on my desk before the Wed. Oct. 6, deadline. I need to get started on this project ASAP, as my workload will increase once the EMP nominations are announced. Naturally, my nomination will dictate that I spend the majority of my time on program related issues. Make sure you get this to me on time.
PC
Patricia Clark had always considered herself a perfect ten. She loved her creamy porcelain complexion, super thin body, and Angelina Jolie-like lips. She thought her only shortcomings were her small eyes, outlined with crow’s feet, and her slightly wrinkled neck, announcing her membership in the forty and over club. That notwithstanding, her crowning glory was her platinum blonde hair, compliments of L’Oréal, and her big boobs, compliments of Dr. Jerry Steiner & Associates Surgical Center. What more could you ask for? was her attitude. She didn’t have a college degree, but she’d managed to work her way up the corporate ladder with what she called “friendly ingenuity,” or sleeping her way to the top, as everyone else accurately pinned her tools for success.
Patricia had it in for Victoria from the first day they met. When Victoria turned in her reports, her work was error-free, which made Patricia suspicious. She believed that Victoria was getting other people to do the work for her. How else could she do such a good job? she often thought, discounting the fact that Victoria held an MBA from one of the top business schools in the country. And she didn’t understand how Victoria could work twelve-hour days and still find time to bake homemade treats to bring to the office. Everyone loved Victoria, and Patricia couldn’t stand it.
“The nerve,” Denise fumed. “Like she’s even being considered for EMP. I wish you would accept Mr. Thornton’s offer just so I could see her shit a brick. She’s more fake than those flotation devices she masquerades as breasts. She’s one sneaky bitch. I’m telling you right now, you gotta watch her.”
Victoria knew Denise was right. That’s why she decided she would come in this weekend and work on the SME report to make sure it was ready in time for the Wednesday deadline.
And that was how her day had gone . . . so far.
Chapter Two
Dead On The Money...
Victoria stepped into the mudroom, stuck her wet umbrella in the porcelain umbrella stand and hung her raincoat on the brass wall hook. She walked into the kitchen, dropping her handbag and attaché on the long granite island. Her kitchen was her favorite room in the house. When she’d hired a contractor to update the room a month after moving in, she’d remodeled it to serve a combination of both style and function. From the travertine tile on the floors, to the custom cherry wood cabinets, to the Viking and Sub-Zero appliances, Victoria had designed the space with epicurean care.
She opened the refrigerator, looking for something to scrounge up for dinner. “No leftover anything,” she said aloud. After her long day she didn’t feel up to preparing a meal, but she was starving because her disastrous blind date had robbed her of lunch. She reached for a truffle from the nearly empty box of Godiva chocolates sitting on the counter, as she scanned through her stash of delivery and take-out menus. Nothing appealed to her. Finally, she decided to take herself out. “I deserve it. Especially after the lunch I had, huh . . . more like didn’t have,” she mumbled between bites of the decadent chocolate treat. “How in the hell do I always find myself in the middle of drama? Is that what I’m bringing forth?”
Satisfied with her plans to go out, Victoria headed upstairs. She flipped on the light and stood in the middle of her spacious master bedroom, which resembled a hotel-quality suite. This was her second favorite room in the house. Her four-poster teak wood bed was covered with a luxurious Dupioni silk comforter and a mix of silk and chenille pillows, making it so inviting she wanted to crawl into it. But the hunger pangs in her stomach called her to action. She undressed piece-by-piece as she walked past the sitting room and into her large walk-in closet, depositing her clothes into the hamper. She quickly changed into a cowl neck sweater and a pair of black wool trousers. She walked back out to the sitting room and admired her reflection in the full-length mirror.
At five-foot-ten, Victoria Small was a strikingly beautiful woman. She carried her slender, shapely frame with the grace of a dancer
. Her smooth, deep-brown skin was flawless, exposing her regal features. She owed the debt of her good looks to her mother. People in her hometown always said, “Girl, with the exception of your coloring and your height, you look just like Elizabeth.” And like her mother, she believed in attending to the details of her appearance.
Victoria reached for her compact sitting atop the vanity and lightly dabbed a small amount of Whipped Cocoa pressed powder over her T-zone for a perfect matte finish. She reapplied her berry colored lipstick and gave herself a spritz of her favorite Diptyque perfume behind each ear. I forgot to call Mom back, she remembered, reaching for the phone.
“Hey Mom.”
“Hi sweetheart, how’re you doing?” her mother asked in her usual happy voice.
“I’m okay. I had a long day and I just got in a few minutes ago. I meant to call you earlier, but I’ve been swamped.”
“That’s all right, I know how busy you are. I just wanted to see how you were doing. You know I worry about you.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Elizabeth Small knew her daughter just like she knew every crease and line in the palm of her own hand, and since Victoria’s break-up a year ago, she’d been very concerned about her only child. “Sweetheart, you sound stressed.”
“Yeah, I am . . . a little.”
“Is it work?”
Victoria quickly told her mother about the EMP nomination and her dilemma over finding a graceful way to turn down the incoming CEO without revealing her plans.
“This sounds like a delicate situation. You should talk to your father,” Elizabeth said. “John,” she yelled into the background, “pick up the phone dear, Victoria needs to talk to you about some business matters.”
Now Victoria’s father was on the line. “How’s my Queen?” John Small asked in his deep baritone.
“I’m fine, Daddy.” Victoria felt conflicted whenever she talked business with her father. It wasn’t that he didn’t offer sound advice, because she considered him to be one of the smartest men she knew. He was the same man who had opened the first black owned, black operated, and black financed bank in Raleigh. And today, Queens Bank boasted three branches in town and had plans for a fourth location in the neighboring city of Durham. But she harbored resentment of him for manipulating her career and trying to turn her into the corporate banker he’d always wanted her to be. Victoria wished they could go back to the close relationship they once shared when she was growing up, when she was truly his little Queen.
Being a teacher by profession, Elizabeth had seen to it that Victoria excelled in academics. And being a successful businessman, John was determined that his only child would carry on his legacy. He always knew that Victoria was destined for great things. She was special. When her friends bought Barbie dolls and bubble gum with their allowance, Victoria bought magazines like Gourmet and Better Homes and Gardens. She would invite girls from the neighborhood over for tea parties. She’d take out her pink and white tea set and don a pair of little white gloves her mother had bought her to wear with frilly church dresses for Sunday services. She’d serve her young guests Hawaiian Punch in dainty teacups, and coconut cookies from a matching plastic serving tray. She was a gracious hostess at the tender age of seven.
But as the years went on, it frustrated John that what he saw as a cute hobby for his little Queen had turned into a career aspiration. His own father had made his fortune in the tobacco fields of South Carolina, where he’d managed to acquire two large farms, several parcels of land, and rental property; a monumental achievement for a black man during those days. He’d worked his fingers to the bone so that John could make his fortune wearing a suit and tie like the white folks in town.
So for John, the thought of his beautiful, intelligent daughter wasting her talent slaving over a hot stove and entertaining people for a living, made his blood pressure rise. In the early eighties, people like B. Smith, Preston Bailey, and Colin Cowie weren’t household names. John was from the old school, and to him, his daughter’s dream sounded frighteningly similar to a glorified cook. Or worse yet . . . a domestic. He vowed he’d die before he allowed that to happen.
“What kind of business advice do you need, Queen?” John asked.
Victoria explained the situation to her father, going into greater detail with him than she had with her mother. He listened carefully before he spoke. “My advice to you is to either leave now or accept the nomination.”
“Explain each position,” Victoria asked in businesslike fashion.
“If you stay with the company after turning down a lucrative opportunity that’s been offered from top brass, they’ll know you’re not a serious player. They’ll try to find ways to get rid of you, or they’ll make your life so miserable you’ll wish you were gone. Either way you lose. But if you leave now, no bridges will be burned and you’ll be that much closer to establishing your business full-time. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”
His last remark stung. “Daddy, you above anyone else should know that’s exactly what I’ve always wanted. But I planned to work through next June so that I’ll have a little cash cushion to carry me through the lean times, at least until Divine Occasions starts to turn a profit. Besides, I still haven’t finished my business plan for the loan I’ll need.”
“Don’t let money or finishing the business plan be an issue. I’ve been offering you seed money for over a year. And knowing you the way I do, I know you’ve got a nice little nest egg tucked away that’ll carry you through.”
Despite her discomfort, Victoria laughed to herself because her father was always dead on the money. “Daddy, I don’t want your guilt, I mean seed money,” she said with an intentional slip, which her father recognized for the flippant remark it was. “I’ll meet with Jeremy at the beginning of the year and present my business plan, then I’ll negotiate a low interest loan and use my own savings to supplement my income.”
Victoria could hear her mother sighing on the other end.
John cleared his throat. “Listen, I know you’re still a little resentful because I pushed you in a different direction from the one you wanted to take, but it’s time to put that aside. This is business,” he said.
“Strictly,” Victoria bounced back with an edge in her voice. She could hear her mother’s sighing getting louder in the background.
“Queen, I’m trying to make amends. I’m trying to help you.”
Victoria knew he was trying . . . trying hard, and that she was being a real bitch about it. Since she’d left Queens Bank their relationship had improved, but it still wasn’t like old times. “I know you’re trying to help, Daddy. But this is something I need to do on my own,” she said.
“Well, the offer still stands in case you change your mind . . . you know, it’s been a year and people are still talking about the black-tie ball you planned for the bank. You’re a natural,” John praised. “I’m so proud of you. And whether you take my advice or not, watch your back at work. And remember . . . ”
“Never let them know all your business,” they both repeated.
“Love you, Queen.” And with that, John was off the phone.
“Victoria, your father’s right. We’re both so proud of you,” her mother said.
“Thanks Mom, but I wish he’d said that fifteen years ago.”
“Sweetheart, you’ve got to start somewhere. He’s extending an olive branch.”
“I know, but he didn’t value my talent until I pulled together that ball and everyone raved about it.”
“Why do you hold on to things? You need to let that go. He’s supporting you now. Can’t that be enough? All he wants you to do is meet him halfway.”
Victoria knew that her mother was right. “Okay, I’ll try,” she finally said.
“Good. Now listen, it’s nearly eight o’clock and you just got home. I think you’re working yourself into the ground.”
“Mom, I’m fine, really.”
“I w
as just telling your Aunt Phyllis the other day that I don’t know when I’m going to get any grandchildren out of you because you won’t even take the time to get a man. Patsy and her husband have two children already, and even that peculiar-acting Jeremy has a wife and a child on the way. Sweetheart, when was the last time you went on a date?”
Here we go again, Victoria thought. “Mom, why does everyone think that being single is like having a debilitating disease? I have a lot going for me. So what if I’m not seeing anyone?”
“Victoria, I’m your mother and you need to listen to me. There’s going to come a time when you’ll need someone by your side to help take care of you. Someone you can come home to at night. Someone you can count on.”
“Mom, I can take care of myself, and I’ve been doing a pretty good job of it for quite some time. Besides, I enjoy the peace and quiet of coming home alone . . . no unexpected interruptions,” Victoria said, trying to convince herself.
“Mmm-hmm.” Elizabeth could see through her daughter’s words like they were floating in a glass. “The right man just hasn’t come into your life yet. I know it’s been difficult since you broke up with . . . ”
“Mom, please . . . don’t mention his name,” Victoria said in a quiet voice.
“Sweetheart, if you had an old pair of shoes that had been worn down to the soles, you wouldn’t keep them in your closet, would you? You’d throw them away and get a new pair, wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah, so what’s your point?” Victoria asked squarely.
“Don’t get fresh with me, young lady. You know I’m only saying this because I love you. You’ve moved forward with so many things in your life. You bought your house, you started your business, now it’s time for you to move on with a new relationship. Sweetheart, I just don’t want you to end up alone.”
Unexpected Interruptions Page 3