Date With Destiny

by Mason Dixon

  “Perhaps I prefer being a big fish in a small pond rather than a minnow in the ocean.”

  “No, I think you’re too comfortable where you are and you need someone to drag you out of your rut.”

  “I don’t see that happening any time soon.”

  Diana’s voice softened. “You’re not dating anyone? It’s been two years. I thought you’d be playing the field by now.”

  “The field won.”

  Rashida briefly thought of the handful of dates she’d been on since she and Diana parted ways. Encounters that had promised little and delivered even less. No wonder work brought more enjoyment.

  “You’re quite a catch, Rashida. Take it from me. Any woman would be lucky to have you.”

  “But now you’ve got me. Right, mamí?”

  Nelly breezed into the room and sat in Diana’s lap. She could easily be mistaken for any of the randy young stars of an MTV reality show. She was wearing so much bling on her ears, neck, and wrists, Rashida feared the metal detector at the airport might short circuit when she tried to pass through security in a few hours.

  “You remember Rashida, don’t you?”

  “How could I forget? She’s all you used to talk about until I finally managed to make you see you weren’t missing out on much.”

  “Don’t be rude.” Diana gave Nelly a smack on the butt that elicited a squeak of surprise. “Say hello.”

  “Hi,” Nelly said brusquely. She wrapped her arms around Diana’s neck in a gesture that seemed more possessive than affectionate. “I thought we were going to South Beach.”

  “Our plane leaves at five thirty. We’ll land in Miami two hours later. After we have dinner with my family, then we can go to South Beach.”

  Nelly poked her lower lip into a pout that could have been sexy if it weren’t so blatantly manipulative. “Why can’t we skip dinner and head straight to South Beach? Your abuela doesn’t like me, remember?”

  Rashida and Diana shared a look. Diana’s grandmother Magalys was notoriously hard to please. Rashida knew from experience that getting on her good side was the key to securing Diana’s heart.

  “She doesn’t know you yet. Give her a chance, azucar.”

  Sugar. Rashida felt uncomfortable hearing Diana call Nelly by the term of endearment that had once been reserved for her. She cleared her throat to get Diana’s attention. “You have a plane to catch, and I have a long drive ahead of me, so can we get started?”

  “Of course.” Diana tapped her palm against Nelly’s thigh.

  Nelly stood but didn’t leave. She glared at Rashida. “That’s a nice chair you’re sitting in, but I wouldn’t get too comfortable in it if I were you. You’re just visiting. I live here now.”

  “Call me crazy, but I doubt your name’s on the lease.”

  Nelly took a step forward as if she wanted to turn the verbal confrontation into a physical one. Diana stopped her with a firm shake of her head.

  “If you want Doña Magalys to like you, here’s a tip,” Rashida said. “Treat her with respect and she’ll do the same to you. It always worked for me.”

  Nelly looked at her as if she were struggling to understand the principles of quantum physics. Rashida chuckled softly. The girl didn’t stand a chance.

  Diana shooed Nelly away. “Give us some privacy, azucar. The grown folks need to talk.”

  “That’s going to cost you,” Rashida said after Nelly stormed up the stairs in a jewelry-rattling huff.

  “That’s okay. I can afford it. Would you like something to drink?”

  “Water’s fine.”

  “But whiskey’s better.” Diana strode to the bar and poured two fingers of bourbon into a pair of crystal highball glasses. She handed one glass to Rashida and resumed her seat. “I know I’ve asked you before, but I’m going to ask you again. If I had stayed in Savannah, would it have made a difference? If I hadn’t pushed for the move, would we still be together?”

  Rashida swirled the contents of her glass as she considered the question. She stared into the amber liquid as if it could predict the future. Or, in this case, explain the past. “No. If you had stayed in Savannah, you would have blamed me for holding you back. If I had moved here, I would have blamed you for dragging me someplace I didn’t want to be. Either way, I think we’d still be having this conversation.”

  Diana sighed. “I think you’re right. As much as I hate to admit it, I think you’re right. Our relationship always felt more like a merger than a marriage.” She held up her glass. “Here’s hoping you meet someone who makes you reconsider your decision to always put your career first.”

  Diana’s words rang with not-so-subtle hints of accusation—and of truth. Rashida tossed back her drink and pushed herself to her feet. “Where are my things?”

  Rashida followed Diana to the room that served as her home office. A cardboard box with her name on it sat on a corner of the desk. Rashida sifted through the box, picking up items with which she had once been intimately familiar but now seemed to belong to someone else. To another life. How could six years of her existence be compartmentalized into something so small? As she tucked the box under her arm, she laid her relationship with Diana to rest and wondered if she would ever have the time or energy to embark on a new one.

  Chapter Four

  Sunday, March 5

  4:15 p.m.

  Savannah, Georgia

  Rashida stepped into the elevator on the ground floor of the Bohemian Hotel and pressed the button that led to the rooftop bar. The Bohemian was a relatively new addition to the Savannah skyline, and Rocks on the Roof offered some of the best views of the city.

  Tourists crowded the wraparound walkway to take pictures of Bay Street, the Savannah River, and the iconic Talmadge Bridge. Local singles wandered from the indoor high-top tables to the luxe outdoor furniture, trying to see and be seen. Gourmands of all varieties made selections from the sophisticated menu available from the full-service restaurant downstairs.

  “I’ll get the drinks,” Rashida said. “Grab us a table.”

  “I can handle that,” Jackie said.

  “What would you like?”

  “A Savan Gria Margarita.”

  “You got it.”

  The specialty drink combined two traditional favorites, sangria and a margarita, into one deliciously sinful drink. Rashida ordered one for Jackie and a peach martini for herself. After the bartender prepared the drinks, Rashida started a tab and joined Jackie at a table for two overlooking the river.

  Jackie raised her glass in a toast.

  “What shall we drink to?”

  “To ex-lovers.”

  “If you say so,” Rashida said with a frown of confusion. She tapped her glass against Jackie’s and took a sip of her drink.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I love Diana, but she wasn’t right for you.”

  Rashida nodded to the beat of a familiar refrain. Jackie always found fault with someone she was dating after they stopped seeing each other but remained mum while they were together. She was still waiting for her to offer a viable alternative. “Do you have someone in mind for me?”

  “Oh, no. There are two things I’ve sworn I will never do: skydive out of a perfectly good plane and play matchmaker for my friends. If you’re not careful, both of those scenarios could end very badly.”

  “Wise woman.”

  “My mama didn’t raise no fool. So how did things go with Diana yesterday?”

  “We were finally honest with each other and ourselves. It was difficult, but liberating in a way.” Rashida still didn’t feel completely free, yet she couldn’t deny a sizeable weight had been lifted from her soul. Until she found the strength to remove the rest of the burden, work would provide a welcome distraction. “How’s Mr. Frank doing?”

  “Better. When I went to visit him yesterday, half the employees were crowded into his room. He’s on some good drugs so he’s feeling no pain. I think you’re right, though. There’s no way he can come back. I know it’s st
ill early, but his energy level’s nowhere near what it was. It will be a while before he’s back to full strength. When he is, I doubt he’ll have what it takes to work an eight-hour shift. I was at the hospital for only half an hour or so and he was exhausted halfway through my visit. He said something really odd, though. I’m still not quite sure what to make of it.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said the robber’s face was white but his wrists were black.”

  “Maybe the robber was wearing black gloves and Mr. Frank mistook the material for his skin.”

  “That’s what I thought at first. Then I thought perhaps it was the morphine talking. Either way, I couldn’t let it go. I decided to do some research. I got my hands on a copy of the police report.”

  “What did you find?”

  “According to the lead investigator, the robber was wearing gloves.”

  “Brown or black?”

  “Neither. The clear latex variety dentists and hygienists use when they’re cleaning your teeth.”

  “You know what this sounds like? The case in Ohio where all the witnesses said a black man robbed a string of banks and the real culprit turned out to be a white guy in a mask.”

  “If that’s the case here, the real robber could be anyone. Everyone who walked into any of the branches could be considered a suspect.”

  “Found a new security guard yet?” Rashida asked with a wink.

  “I’m working on it. The online ad started running yesterday. The print ad appeared this morning. I expect to have a pile of applications in my inbox when I get to work tomorrow. I want to start interviewing by Wednesday at the latest. Will you be available to help separate the wheat from the chaff?”

  Rashida had scheduled the first meeting of the exploratory committee for Wednesday afternoon. She couldn’t be in two places at once.

  “I trust you. Between you and HR, I’m sure you’ll find the right person for the job.” She opened the menu. “I’m going to order something to eat. Care to join me?”

  “I’d love to, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to sip and run. The early NBA game should be over by now. Even if it isn’t, I’m going to drag James out of his man cave and show him what this body looks like polished to a fine, ebony sheen.”

  Rashida chuckled again. “Have fun.”

  “I’ll be leaving you in good hands. Isn’t that your next ex-girlfriend over there?”

  Destiny was standing about twenty feet away, one hand on the railing and the other wrapped around a glass of beer. Her eyes were focused on a large cargo ship slowly making its way up the river. Rashida couldn’t stop staring. Destiny’s regal profile deserved to be cast in bronze and placed in a museum alongside other works of art. She was wearing jeans and a red button-down shirt. The sleeves of a white cable-knit sweater were tied around her neck. Blindingly-white tennis shoes, a new designer model that cost nearly three hundred dollars retail, adorned her feet. Based on the brand name stitched on her back pocket, her jeans had to have set her back nearly as much.

  “Didn’t you tell me she’s out of work?” Jackie asked. “How can she afford such expensive clothes when she isn’t bringing home a steady paycheck? And what is she doing here, anyway? This place is many things, but it ain’t cheap. It seems to me she’d be better off depositing her unemployment checks in the bank rather than blowing them trying to keep up with the Joneses.”

  “Before you go on a rant about people content to live off government assistance rather than go out and get a job, at least Destiny is trying to find work. The day I met her, she was looking through the want ads. In the job market, you’re judged on every single thing. She has to dress the part. She can’t show up for an interview in hand-me-downs and expect to be hired.”

  “Showing up in three hundred dollar Nikes isn’t going to do the trick, either. Being ghetto fabulous is okay for the ’hood, but not corporate America.”

  “How would you know? Neither of us have been in the ’hood for years.”

  “And that’s a good thing. We have moved on up like the Jeffersons, honey, and I am thoroughly enjoying my piece of the pie.” Jackie finished her drink and tossed a five-dollar bill on the table to cover her part of the tip. “See you tomorrow, boss lady.”

  The term of endearment made Rashida feel slightly guilty about her success. “Each one teach one,” her grandmother loved to say. She had worked her ass off to get where she was—hitting her head on glass ceilings and banging her shins as she knocked down racial barriers—but had she done enough to make sure she wasn’t the only person of color residing in the upper echelon of the city’s banking industry?

  She made a mental note to call one of her friends at the local historically black college to see if any promising students in the business departments were in need of a mentor. Then she placed her food order with the waitress and joined Destiny by the railing.

  “Come here often?” Destiny whirled around as if she hadn’t heard her approach. “I didn’t mean to startle you. No spills this time.” She took a giant step backward as if she were playing a game of Mother, may I? “I promise to maintain a respectful distance at all times.”

  Destiny’s stern façade cracked into a smile. “Where’s the fun in that?” She took a sip of her beer. “To answer your question, this is my first time here.”

  “What do you think?”

  “It isn’t the Varsity,” she said, naming the Athens greasy spoon that was a favorite of University of Georgia students and working stiffs alike. “A bit too frou-frou for my taste. I prefer dollar value French fries to eight-dollar truffle fries, but it’s a nice place. Is this where you hang out when you aren’t indulging in flavored coffee and French pastries?”

  “I don’t get out much. I spend a lot of time at work on the road. When I’m home, I don’t usually venture very far.”

  “Are you meeting your friend here?”

  Destiny made the word sound like a pejorative term.

  “My friend?”

  “The one from the coffee shop. The one I assume accompanied you on the spa trip you told me about the other day.”

  “That would be Jackie. She was here for a bit. She’s heading home to meet up with her husband.”

  “So you’re not…”

  “Together? She’s my work wife from eight to six. After hours, she belongs to someone else.” She smiled at the look of relief that washed over Destiny’s face. So she is still interested. Good to know.

  “She seems so protective of you I thought you had a history.”

  “Sorry, no.”

  “Did you get her a job at the bank or did she get hired first and give you the hook-up?”

  “Sometimes it isn’t who you know but what you know. Jackie and I were hired at roughly the same time, but we didn’t know each other until we started working for the same company.” Rashida was slightly offended by Destiny’s inference she hadn’t earned her job on her own merits, a common misperception she had worked diligently to dispel. Diana used to call it the chip that fueled her fire. She took a moment to cool the flames. “I have a table if you’d like to join me.”

  “I don’t want to intrude.”

  “You wouldn’t be intruding. I ordered some food, but as my grandmother always says, my eyes might have been bigger than my belly.”

  “If you need some help, I’ll be glad to do what I can.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Did you have fun at the spa?” Destiny asked as Rashida led the way to their table.

  “The spa was an adventure in itself. Let’s just say I’m glad I saved the massage for last.”

  Destiny pulled out her chair for her before settling into her own. “You can’t throw out an intriguing line like that and leave me hanging. What happened today?”

  Rashida hesitated. The details were almost too embarrassing to share with someone she barely knew. On the other hand, they were too hilarious to keep to herself.

  “For their twenty-fifth anniversary, Jackie’s hu
sband bought her a gift certificate to one of the local day spas. She didn’t want to go alone, so she invited me to accompany her. We looked through the spa’s brochure and selected the services we wanted. She signed up for a facial, mani-pedi, herbal wrap, and massage. I chose a facial, a massage, and something called a scotch spray. I had no idea what a scotch spray was, but it sounded good. The brochure offered only a vague description, which should have been my clue right there. In my head, I pictured standing under a refreshing mist or a relaxing waterfall. Not even close. I felt like a civil rights protestor being fire hosed by the police. The spa attendant was cute, but she seemed to derive entirely too much pleasure from her job.”

  “Sounds painful. In more ways than one.”

  “It was. I know you want to run out and get one, so let me explain the process. You walk into a large tiled room with excellent drainage—another clue I didn’t see. Then you take off your robe and stand naked against a wall while an attendant aims three jets of high-powered water at you. The aim is not to relax you but to ‘break up the toxins and cellular blockages in your body.’” She bracketed the words with her fingers, remembering the sting of the spray as it pelted her sensitive, unprotected skin. “It was the longest twenty minutes of my life. By the time it was over, I felt like a side of beef that had been tenderized with a meat mallet.”

  “Ouch.”

  “My sentiments exactly.”

  “You make it sound like so much fun I can’t wait to have one.”

  “Believe me, you’re not missing much.”

  By the time Rashida finished her story, the waitress brought out the food. “One butcher’s plate. Can I bring you anything else?”

  “An extra set of silverware would be wonderful, thank you.”

  “Be right back.”

  Destiny looked at the platter of meat, olives, cheese, and rustic bread that lay between them. “Your grandmother was right about you.”

  “She usually is.”