“She won’t wake up,” Azure said quickly.
Mink, wearing one of her husband’s gray PowerHouse Gym T-shirts, sat up in bed and felt an instant throbbing at her temple. She checked her face in the mirror from across the room. From twenty feet away she could see that the bruise on her forehead from the fiasco with Sterling had deepened into varied shades of violet. “Did you wash your face and brush your teeth yet?” she asked as she walked into her private bath.
“No.”
“You go and take care of that,” Mink said, shoving Azure’s little body out of the bathroom. “Then I’ll meet you downstairs in the kitchen.”
Azure ran back to give her mother a long hug, kissed her on both cheeks, then stopped. “What happened to your face, Mommy?” she asked.
“This?” She touched the bruise, flinching. “Oh, nothing, really. Last night I accidentally bumped my head on the bathroom door.” She was taken off guard by her daughter’s concerned expression and added, “But I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt a bit—now scoot.”
Since her recent promotion with the airline, Mink’s duties had escalated. Beyond the normal responsibilities of an airline captain, there was the burden of paperwork. It was a challenge that took an extra hour each night—whether she had flown or not. In just over a month of being a captain, she was emotionally and physically exhausted. But she couldn’t complain; she had asked for and gotten just what she’d wanted.
Within minutes Mink was down the hall, knocking on her housekeeper’s door. “Erma?” she called out. “Erma, are you okay?”
Mink heard the bed creak, then a sleepy voice answered, “Come in.”
“Good morning.” Mink took a seat beside the bed as Erma scrambled for her glasses on the nightstand, then turned on the light.
“You okay?” Erma asked, noticing Mink’s bruise.
“Um-hm. Popped my head on the door. It’s nothing.”
“Put some ice on it, you hear?” When Mink nodded Erma smiled warmly, then said, “Your husband called late last night.”
“Dwight? I didn’t hear the phone.” Dwight Majors had been a firefighter for the city of Detroit since before he’d married Mink.
“I could tell when you came home last night that you were exhausted, so I didn’t waken you.” Erma yawned. “He’s working a double shift at the fire station. I was dreaming so good, I didn’t get up to leave you a message.”
“Oh, yeah,” Mink said, remembering, “it’s your day off. I had completely forgotten.”
“I’ll get the baby’s breakfast,” Erma said, pulling back the covers.
Rising, Mink stopped her. “No. You sleep in. I can handle things today.” Ordinarily she rarely went into Erma’s room. Erma seemed to know without discussing it that Mink wanted to keep her distance. Over a four-year period, they had developed a grandmother-granddaughter type of relationship. Even though Mink never wanted to make it any friendlier than that, she had come to rely on the older woman’s wisdom.
Azure was scolding Jelly Jam when Mink entered the kitchen.
“No,” she said, waving her finger in front of Jelly’s face, “you’re not getting German chocolate cake, either.” Azure went to the lower cabinet and pulled out a big box of dog biscuits, ignoring Jelly’s whimpers for his favorite snack, which was in a covered dish on the counter.
After Jelly got his biscuit, Mink opened the back door and let the dog outside, then began looking inside the cabinets. “You want strawberry Pop-Tarts this morning?” Mink asked, still searching.
“I don’t like Pop-Tarts anymore.”
Mink reached behind the short boxes and took out a large yellow one. “How about Honeycomb cereal?”
“I don’t like that, either.”
Mink’s anger was beginning to rise. “All right. What do you like to eat for breakfast?” Normally Dwight’s job, breakfast wasn’t a meal Mink could remember preparing for her daughter. She hated to cook.
“Cap’n Crunch.”
“We’re in luck, then. Here’s a brand-new box.”
Azure was silent while watching her mother place the bowl before her and drown the cereal with milk.
Jelly scratched at the door, wanting back in. When Mink returned, she saw that Azure’s bottom lip was trembling and her eyes were full of tears.
“What’s wrong now?”
“Daddy and Erma know that I don’t like Cap’n Crunch without the Crunch Berries.”
Mink was amazed at her own instant fury. “Why didn’t Erma buy the Crunch Berries kind?”
“She didn’t buy that cereal. You did, Mommy.”
Mink was about to argue, then remembered last week when Erma had been sick and she’d gone shopping. She’d been so irritated about doing the task, she’d barely checked the list that Erma had written out for her. Holding her temper, she took a few deep breaths. “Let’s start over,” she said, making her voice light. She removed the unwanted cereal and poured it down the disposal. While Mink filled the coffeepot with tap water, she turned and said briskly, “Tell me what you’d like for breakfast.”
Azure knew that tone of voice, and silent tears fell down her chubby cheeks. She turned her face away so her mother couldn’t see. “I want my daddy,” she said, sniffing. She ran from the kitchen, with Jelly trailing fast behind.
“Spoiled brat,” Mink said under her breath. “I’m not putting up with this shit—not today.”
Agitated, Mink dialed the fire station and slurped some coffee after dousing it with cream. “Can I speak to Dwight Majors, please?”
In a minute or two Dwight answered, “Firefighter Majors here.”
“It’s Mink.”
“Didn’t count on the overtime, sweetie. How was the brunch?”
Mink hadn’t seen her husband in two days. “Terrible,” she answered, annoyed. Her next trip for Pyramid would begin before Dwight was off duty. “We can talk about that later.”
“Do you want to talk when I get home?”
“That’s the problem. You’re not home. Forgive me for being a little selfish, but I don’t get to talk shit with the guys all day at work—I’ve got a real job.”
“Don’t start this again, Mink.”
There was a long silence as both felt the familiar argument coming. Mink was complaining Dwight didn’t pull his weight; Dwight was defensive, accusing her of rubbing his nose in shit.
“Listen, Azure’s in her room. She won’t eat breakfast. She probably won’t eat lunch, either. And I’ll be damned if I’m making dinner.”
“As I said earlier, we’ll talk when I get home.”
Through gritted teeth she added, “I won’t be here when you get home. I’ve got a four-day trip scheduled to leave tonight. So who’s supposed to take care of your spoiled-ass daughter? It’s Erma’s day off!”
Half an hour later, with a persistent throbbing at the base of her head, Mink left the house and her daughter, teary eyed after a scolding over the phone from her daddy, in Erma’s care. It was worth paying Erma overtime. Relishing the idea of a day of pampering and getting away from her maternal responsibilities, Mink gathered her coat and purse for a trip to the European-style spa in Farmington Hills. It was a place where her body would be rubbed with a cream of crushed pearls, her hands dipped into hot peach-scented paraffin, and her feet would luxuriate in an aromatic foot bath. For four hours every effort would be made for the Estee client to achieve a better harmony among the body, mind, and emotions.
Once inside the four-car garage, Mink started her new ice blue Jaguar convertible and let it warm up for a few minutes. To her right was the Audi station wagon used to chauffeur Azure to her numerous activities. (Azure was never allowed in the Jaguar.) Occupying the last two stalls were a dump truck and landscaping equipment. Though she berated Dwight about his attachment to the firefighters, the truth was she merely resented his time with the boys. In her saner moments, Mink knew how Dwight worked hard to build his landscaping business while keeping his city job.
As stupid as it seem
ed, as Dwight’s business continued to grow with each new year, Mink knew herself that she was becoming more shrewish. She kept bugging him to rent a garage for the growing clutter. His answer was always the same: he wanted his expensive equipment where he could guard it, at home.
Their landmark mansion was situated on two acres at the end of Arden Park Boulevard in the historic Boston-Edison district in Detroit. Most of the mansions in that area, though huge in square footage and cheap to purchase, were expensive to maintain. But the mansion meant more than home to Mink—it represented achievement, that she was at least as good as her mother. And that was important enough to carry the heavy burden of maintaining the old house.
As Mink backed out the driveway and into the falling snow, she ignored the snowman decked out in Kenté cloth, surrounded by dozens of identical pairs of footprints—one set large and one tiny.
When the opportunity had come for Mink to be promoted from co-pilot to captain, she had understood the sacrifices she would have to make to be successful. Even before she’d obtained the title, she had been constantly away from home. It took years to build her experience, log flying time, and close in on the three thousand hours required for the commercial license that she had hoped to achieve by age twenty, and had. That was the first step in a succession of steps that had led to her position today. She felt it important for other African American females following her to set a standard of excellence.
A recent article in Ebony magazine hailed Mink as the first black female captain to work for a major airline in the history of the United States. At the beginning of 1997, there were approximately ten thousand pilots and co-pilots. Only seventy-five were black. Of the six hundred female pilots, only twelve were black.
At age ten, Mink had gone on her first airplane trip. She and Spice were visiting Aunt Carmen in Mississippi. Mink was mesmerized as she gazed at the fluffy clouds and landscape below, and the dream of being a pilot instantly became her passion. With the help of one of Spice’s affluent customers who owned a plane, Mink began flying lessons at fourteen.
For years Mink juggled classes at high school and lessons at flying school, then endured the tediousness of working as a flight instructor to accumulate hours. Married by age twenty, Mink had at that time already managed to secure a position as flight engineer. During a period of massive hiring in the early nineties, she gained seniority and ultimately was able to secure the position of captain at age twenty-seven.
But Mink had other lessons to learn. She had to ignore the sexism and racism from her fellow employees and the dirty looks she received from some of the passengers she greeted as they boarded.
Passengers didn’t realize that most black pilots were more experienced than their white counterparts because of having been repeatedly passed over for the position. Often the black pilots were steadily accumulating hours and experience while they awaited employment.
So Mink just went about the business of achieving her dream while ignoring the barbs of others. But it was hard, and sometimes she felt that no one—least of all Dwight—understood. What had he ever been up against?
With two high-profile jobs in their marriage and a young child to raise, Dwight’s flexible hours as a firefighter fit perfectly into their schedules. He was a great father—no question. When Azure was born, it was Dwight who interviewed over two dozen applicants for a live-in housekeeper, finally settling on Erma. And that was just the start of it. In fact, fatherhood was so high on his list of priorities that Mink had conceived Azure as quickly as possible to fulfill her obligation to Dwight and then get on with her life.
Mink arrived at Estee Mira’s Spa in the City in Farmington, signed in, and picked up a magazine. The receptionist was busy explaining the rudiments of a spa day to a new client.
The waiting room was full, so Mink stood against the wall.
“May I help you?” the receptionist finally asked Mink after she’d been shifting from one leg to another for over five minutes.
“I’m here to see Randi. Could you please tell her Mrs. Majors is here?”
“She’s with a client.” The receptionist turned the appointment book around and checked for Mink’s name. “Uh, Mrs. Majors—”
Mink snapped, “I don’t care who she’s with. I asked you to call her.”
“I’m sorry, if you don’t have an appointment, I can’t interrupt—”
Mink waved her hand in front of the young woman’s face. “Just tell her that Mink Majors is here. I’m sure she’ll see me.”
“As I said, Mrs. Majors—”
Mink walked around to the other side of desk, ignoring the woman’s protests to stop. She shouted, “Randi! Randi!” up and down the corridor. After Randi made polite explanations to her client, she drew Mink to the side. Neither could see Grace Ujamis, the manager, fast approaching, along with the receptionist, who wore a strained smile on her face.
“This isn’t really a good time—” Randi started.
“Is there a problem, Mink?” Grace cut in, nodding to Randi. “I’ll handle it,” she said, and led Mink to the side of the hall.
“I wanted to speak with Randi. I know that I don’t have an appointment, but—”
“I’m sure that we can fit you in.” Grace led the way back to the reception desk. “What would you like to have done today, Mink?”
“The works: a manicure, pedicure, facial, herbal wrap, and massage.” Mink moved back around to the other side of the desk and watched Grace flip the appointment book pages back and forth. She tapped her broken nail nervously against the counter, waiting.
“Let’s see.” She turned to Cindy, the receptionist. “Would you tell Pauline that I’d like to see her for a moment, please?”
“But I want Randi—”
“Settle down, Mink. I can accommodate you this morning.”
Mink caught her noticing the bruise, Sterling’s little gift. Good, maybe the bitch will think I’m battered and cut me some slack, she thought to herself.
Grace quickly looked back down at the filled pages. “But you’ll have to work with us.” She motioned for a technician who had just appeared. “Darlene, would you take Mrs. Majors’s coat, please?”
“Thank you,” Mink said, easing out of her vibrant red-dyed fox stole. She heard snatches of the hurried conversation at the reception desk and rolled her eyes as she handed Darlene her coat.
“Darlene can take you for your pedicure in room three in just a few moments,” Grace said to Mink and added cheerily, “Would you like a cup of coffee, Mrs. Majors?”
“No, thank you.” She picked up her purse and went to use the telephone in the corner. “I’ll be right over here, Grace.”
Grace nodded and continued writing in the book, informing the technicians of the revised schedule.
Mink dialed Spice’s number, catching her just as she was on her way out. “Did you get your box yet?”
“Um-hm,” Spice said, a smile in her voice.
“I’m so sorry, Spice. I wish I could get the vases repaired—”
“Stop it! The last thing I expected today was a case of cognac and champagne. Thanks, it really wasn’t necessary.”
“No. My fault. I shouldn’t have let Sterling work me up like that.” Mink paused, exhaling. “Have you heard from her today?”
“No. But I expect to. Soon. I’ve cut her monthly allowance by a grand a month, and canceled all of her credit cards.”
“That sounds good. What made you do it?”
“My accountant called. Sterling was ten thousand overdrawn on her account. Of course I was pissed, but I told him to go ahead and pay it.” She sneezed. “He reminded me, ‘Spice, you’ve done this four times already this year.’ I’m constantly giving her ultimatums, and she’s not paying attention. I’ve got to draw the line somewhere! He told me by his calculation of Sterling’s account, her bills are running more than mine.”
“She’s not going to take this—” Mink overheard Kia, Spice’s secretary, telling her to hurry, the car wa
s waiting.
“Look, I’ve got to run. I’ll talk to you later. And thanks again,” Spice said before hanging up. Mink was quite used to Spice’s busy schedule.
Mink found a vacant seat and flipped through another magazine, checking her watch. Ten minutes passed. Twenty. Twenty-five. She jumped up and stood back at the counter. “Grace assured me that I’d wait just a few moments. I’ve been waiting almost thirty minutes!” she hollered.
The receptionist turned three shades darker than Mink’s fox coat. She opened her mouth to speak, then quickly clamped it shut and rigidly tapped her balled fists against the counter.
“This is exactly why I need to have someone come to my home,” Mink said in an arrogant voice. She leaned across the counter and tapped the open book with force. “I don’t know who you think—”
The receptionist spoke through clenched teeth. “If you’ll follow me, Mrs. Majors, Darlene just called for you.”
When Mink arrived at Pyramid Airlines that evening, after four luxurious hours at the spa, she felt great. “Welcome aboard Pyramid Airlines,” she said, greeting the oncoming passengers.
Mink hadn’t missed one sneer as she watched the condescending eyes of some of the passengers. The gold-winged nametag that read “Captain Majors” spoke for itself—a black woman was in control. Just a year ago she remembered submitting over a hundred résumés to secure this position. During that time, she’d received only two inquiries—she would never forget that. Nor would she forget who she was, what color she was, what gender she was.
During the interviewing process, Mink had gone through days of tests. The vision test was a breeze. Then there was the general aeronautical knowledge test about weather. She passed with scores much higher than average.
The psychological exams were extensive; there were three hundred and sixty true and false questions. This interview was trouble. A psychiatrist asked her about her childhood, and she lied, saying she’d been raised by her natural parents in a two-parent home.
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