Until

by Timmothy B. Mccann

  “Hello! I mean Ms. Robinson. May I help you?” she said after she grabbed the phone on the half ring.

  “Girl, you got it bad!”

  “Please, Jac. I knew it wasn’t him.”

  “Ah, Betty? You didn’t even give the phone a chance to ring. That was an I hope this is Vander answer if I ever heard one.”

  “Okay, okay, you got me,” she said dropping her pen on the stack of files and sliding them from in front of her. “I don’t know. I mean . . . I know why he’s doing what he’s doing and I can rationalize that until I’m blue in the face, but I still miss him.” She grimaced. “Seems I need him more now that I have this case than I needed him before.”

  “When’s the last time he sent you flowers? I never hear you mention that anymore.”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “Betty, that reason he gave you a while back is BS and I trust you’re not seriously trying to make sense out of it I know you wanna believe it, and if you keep repeating it to yourself, you just might, but you don’t just turn love on and off like that”

  “I know, but like I said before, it also has to be fifty-fifty, and I haven’t done my part.”

  “If that gets you through the night, go for it, but I’m telling you something’s up with him. I can’t put my finger on it, but something ain’t right. How often you all doing it?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “Well, honey, just like that song says, if you want to know if he loves you . . . it’s in his kiss.”

  As Jacqui said the words, Betty thought of the encounter that had left her crying on the floor of her shower. With the phone held to her ear with her shoulder, she rolled her chair away from her desk, crossed her legs, and drummed her fingertips on her knee distractedly. She could feel the soft muscles around her mouth tense, ready to hold back her tears, as Jacqui said, “Betty? You there?”

  After a protracted pause Jacqui continued, “Listen. Why don’t I bring you some lunch? I can tell by your voice you’re busy, and it ain’t no use in trying to pry you out of that office today.”

  “Thanks, but that’s okay. I brought lunch.”

  “Put it in the fridge. I’ll see you around one.”

  “Jacqui? I understand what you’re doing, but I’m okay. Seriously. I’m fine.” And then as a gentleman stuck his head in her door, Betty froze and said, “Ah, Ms. Jordan? May I call you back around noon? Possibly we can pencil something in for this afternoon.”

  “Okay, sweetie, I know you got company, but I will see you today at lunch.”

  “Yes, that is confirmed. We’ll speak then.” Hanging up the phone, Betty said, “Mr. Renfro, how are you? May I help you?”

  Walking in her office, he said, “Very impressive,” as he looked at her awards.

  Betty noticed an envelope cupped in his palm that he would occasionally pat against his thigh.

  “So,” he said, peering at a photo, “I see Jack introduced you to the governor.”

  “Well, sir, actually I clerked for Governor Todd when I worked in the SOB for two summers.”

  With a quizzical look he glanced at Betty and said, “The SO . . . oh, the Senate Office Building. Right. I never knew that. I never knew you clerked in Tallahassee. Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, and took a seat. “So you and the governor go way back, huh?”

  He’s getting just a little too excited about this, Betty thought as she watched him take a seat and rub his hand slowly over the ivory envelope in his lap. “He’s a nice gentleman. Ambitious as heck,” she said softly, “but he and his wife are as nice as can be.”

  “Well,” Renfro continued in his awkward search for conversation, “he’s in the GOP. Are you?”

  “Sir? Is there something I can get for you?” Betty asked to put an end to the madness. “A file or anything for the meeting tomorrow?”

  “No. No, I’m fine,” he said, and stood up. “I was just down here and thought I would stop in to say hello.”

  As he departed, Betty leaned back, completely bemused. And then he looked back in the door and said, “Ah, Robinson? Do you have a couple of minutes?”

  “Sir?”

  “Do you have a moment? I would like to talk to you if you have the time. Let’s go for a walk.”

  “You know, I’ve always loved the springtime,” Renfro said as he opened the door to the parking garage and wheezed a lungful of air. As they walked out on the concrete slab, Betty listened intently to each of his words. “When we moved here from Wisconsin in the sixties, I had no idea I would even like it. I mean, I loved the snow,” he said with a nervous stare around to see if anyone was watching them talk. “I loved getting up early to shovel my wife’s car out and putting down the rock salt. Ahh, the smell of rock salt,” he reminisced. “I bet you these guys in Florida never even heard of the stuff. To me it was enjoyable for some reason. Gave me time to plan my day. But here in the South, hell, it’s summer year-round.”

  “Umm,” Betty said as she noticed the tight grasp he had on the perspiration-stained envelope with the blurred blue ink.

  “Yes, it’s good down here in the South. But I miss the white stuff after all these years.” And then Renfro looked at Betty and said, “Robinson, I’ve been Wanting to talk to you for a few reasons.” As they reached the end of the parking lot a soft breeze blew the fragrance from the potted flowering trees in their direction. Renfro looked down at the concrete bench, pulled out his handkerchief, spread it out, and gestured for Betty to sit beside him. As she did so, he said, “I’ve watched you work these last couple of weeks. As you know, before all this commotion started, I was so busy running the firm I didn’t keep track of the associates. But I just wanted to tell you, you’ve got it. Whatever it is. You have it. I saw it in Murphy, Collins used to have it when he was in the firm more, and you have that same . . . that same stuff.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “I watched you jump into this case with both feet and you put us in an incredible position to negotiate. Not many partners, if the truth be known, could have done a better job.”

  While she wanted to ask, Well, why didn’t I get the partnership, instead she said, “Thank you.”

  Renfro ran his liver-spotted fingers through his bristly blond crew cut and said, “Also, the reason I asked you out here is because . . .” Then he handed her the envelope. Betty opened it and then looked at him as she unfolded the document inside. As she read it Renfro said, “After talking to Collins and a number of the other partners, we felt it was the only practical thing to do. This way everyone walks away happy, and that is really the essence of mediation. Everyone should—”

  “We settled for twenty-five million?”

  The apologetic tone of Renfro’s voice left as he said, “Yes. Yes we did, Robinson.”

  “But what happened to the previous offer? We were talking sixty just last week. Burt said we had a shot at sixty-five. Since we obtained even more new information.”

  “Those plans changed. Now, that’s all I can say.”

  He sold those ladies out because he was too weak to take it to trial, Betty thought as tension knotted in her stomach. She lifted her chin to meet his icy gaze with a stare. “So you sold them out. Is that what you’re saying, sir?”

  Renfro stood up and said, “No, what I’m saying is the partners met and the partners decided what was right in this case for the parties involved. Now, I know you’ve worked hard on this matter,” he said, gazing down at Betty. “But that’s how it works sometimes. There are some things they don’t teach you in law school. One of them is that the path of least resistance is at times the only practical path to take.” And then Renfro turned to limp away and said, “Have those files on my desk by—”

  “Jack . . . would never have done that!”

  Renfro stopped, and as he turned slowly, Betty could hear the gravel under his leather soles. “What did you say?”

  Betty stood up, picked up his handkerchief with her fingertips, and said, “Mr. Renfro, you and I both know that Jac
k would never have done that.” As she handed him the swatch of white cloth, she continued, “Jack would have ensured that ABL would never have allowed what happened to occur again. Jack would have done the right thing regardless of the money. He would have put Alice Vincent on the stand to tell the court her story. How her husband left her and her three little children months after she lost her womanhood. He would have told them about Rachel Perry, who is still in therapy years after the fact. That is what Jack would have done. He would have ensured that there would never be another Alice or Rachel.”

  Renfro looked away with a half smile and mumbled, “You people kill me.” And then he raised his voice to say, “You know, Ms. Robinson, you would have done a great job in front of that jury. I mean when those bla— I mean when that jury got to see you in action it would have been impressive.”

  As the words left his lips, Betty’s heart sank as she thought, You people, huh? So it was because of color. Being the best had proven not to be enough. She was still seen as just a color. With alarm and anger rippling along her spine but not in her face, Betty stood tall.

  “You know, you have a bright future in this firm. A very bright future.”

  “Sir, are you referring to a partnership? I want to clearly understand what you mean by a very bright future.”

  “Well, Robinson, what else could I mean? We did that search and you were one of the top people we came up with.”

  “Then why did the partnership go to Patterson?”

  “Because our hand was forced. Jack put it in the contract when we recruited him from up north. Believe me when I say if I had my way, we would never have—”

  “So when, sir. When will I get this partnership?”

  “Well, actually, Robinson, now that this case is over, I can see it happening within the next six months.”

  Betty swallowed as the words she had wanted to hear for so long settled in her mind. She could for a brief moment picture her portrait hanging on the wall with the other partners in the reception area. She could feel the joy she would have relishing the moment with Evander and Jacqui and sharing with them that she was the first woman of color to achieve such a status in the history of the firm. She no longer had to depend on rumors, because now the senior partner had told her the promotion was imminent. And then she thought of the ladies who had gone through the needless surgeries so that a group of attorneys could now celebrate the three million dollars they had earned for the firm.

  With a polite smile she said, “Thank you, Mr. Renfro. I really appreciate the fact that you can see I have earned a partnership with Murphy, Renfro and Collins. But, sir, you can take that partnership and . . .”

  “You told him to do what?”

  Lying on the couch in Jacqui’s office with her forearm over her eyes, Betty replied, “It’s not funny, girl. For the first time in my life I’m unemployed.”

  “I’m sorry, Betty. I mean . . .” And then Jacqui burst out laughing again and said, “You really told him that? Those exact words? Even the part about him being a racist?”

  “It’s not funny, Jac.”

  Jacqui noticed her friend’s blank expression and whirled her chair over to the couch. “Listen, Betty. I’m making a little fun of all of this, but you did the right thing.”

  “Jacqui,” she replied as she opened her eyes and looked at her friend. “I just bought a house a couple of months ago. I have a car payment, Visa, Diners, student loans I’m still paying off, you name it.”

  “You have some savings, don’t you?”

  Betty sighed heavily, looked at the ceiling, and said, “Yeah. I have some retirement money plus the 401K at work, which I don’t want to touch. But—”

  “Girl, I have a little something set aside. We’ll pull through this. Trust me when I say, you did the right thing.”

  “I know. But it’s not supposed to be this way. When you follow the rules, attend law school, pay your bills, pay your taxes, go to church, it’s not supposed to be like this. When all the girls were out partying in college, what was I doing? The right thing. When people were advancing to partnership all around me, what was I doing? The right thing. Well, look where the right thing has gotten me. I’m thirty-two, unemployed, and unmarried.”

  “Betty,” Jacqui replied after a pause, “it’s not fair, but you know something? Whoever said it was going to be fair? That it was even supposed to be fair? I got a headline for you: Life is not fair. Okay? I’m sorry to pass that bit of information on to you, but it’s true.” Jacqui rolled her chair back to her desk, and added, “But you just have to handle it the best you know how. What you did today took courage. Don’t let fear steal that away from you. You may have made mistakes in your life; we all have. But this was not one of them. I never could stand Renfro. He has some nerve having that shit in his office you told me about.”

  “That was never a big deal to me.”

  “How could it not be a big deal? Just like you said, he is one of the biggest racists in this town. I would have gone up to that cracker and slapped his wrinkled-ass face. He got off easy dealing with you, believe me. You know he was just dangling another carrot in front of your face. What’s up with this six months shit?”

  “And if you had slapped him . . . what would that say about you?”

  “Dammit, it would have said we were even. That’s what it would have said.”

  “No, it would have put you on the same level as him. I never let that stuff get to me because I know who I am. Renfro can’t define me based on my color.”

  “Whatever.”

  “I’m serious. If I let an insecure man like him tell me who I am, what does it say about me? I was watching TV the other night and they showed this movie about George Wallace.” Betty sat up on the couch. “I remember the day he got shot. I remember being happy and my mom and stepfather calling people up on the phone and telling them. Almost like it was a reason to celebrate. I was just a kid and I can remember being happy he was lying there in a pool of blood with his wife covering him. So in the movie when he got shot, I tell you no lie, I was happy all over again. This man did more to hurt black people, not only in Selma and Montgomery but all over the world, than any man since Willie Lynch. But I had to check myself the more I thought about it. I had to ask myself, why was I happy?” Jacqui remained silent as Betty looked at her and said, “Did you know that until his death, this man had to live in constant pain? For almost thirty years he did not live a day without experiencing excruciating, agonizing pain. At the end he was bedridden, more than likely wishing he were dead. So as I was watching the movie, I thought to myself, if I’m happy because of what happened to him, at best I am on the same level as he was. And at worst, a lot lower. Girl, I couldn’t give Renfro that kinda power over me. I told him what I had to tell him, but he can’t make me hate him. We’ve come too far to sink that low.”

  Betty watched Jacqui’s face crack a smile as she quietly shook her head. “We’ve come too far to sink that low, huh, I like that. Don’t tell me, Jack Murphy.”

  “No,” Betty said as the fear of unemployment sank in. “Me.”

  Chapter 19

  Monday

  As he sat behind his desk, Drew could hear the swish of Peggy’s panty hose as she headed down the corridor. Walking through his door, she stood in front of him with her weight on one foot as she tapped her burgundy sculptured nails on his desk.

  With a quick glance down at her fingertips as he hung up the phone, Drew looked at her and asked, “What’s up?”

  “Drew, please tell me you didn’t.”

  “Didn’t what?” he asked, stalling for time.

  “You know what I’m talking about, Drew. You went out with Zelma, didn’t you.”

  Pushing his chair back from his desk, Drew wanted to avoid the conversation, but he could not lie to her. He wanted to tell her the Monday after his date but did not. Since it had been several weeks, he assumed it would never come up. “How did you find out?”

  “Damn, Drew!” she said, a
nd flopped down in the chair.

  “Peggy, you never answered my question. What’s up? What’s going on?”

  “Drew, I thought we had agreed that you were not going to do anything stupid like that. Did you sleep with her?”

  “Damn, Peggy. First of all, you sound like I make a habit of dating clients. You know me better than that. Secondly, if it did go further, I wouldn’t tell you. What’s with you today?”

  “Oh boy, you better tell me something!” she replied as she looked up. “This ain’t got anything to do with being a gentleman. This is about money now. So what happened, did you screw her?”

  “No!” Drew replied. “No, we did not sleep together. Do you feel better? Now tell me what’s going on.”

  Peggy slammed a thick file on his desk, spilling white and yellow papers, and leaned over as she said, “I called her office a couple of times and she’s been avoiding me the last few weeks. This morning she answered the phone by mistake or something and I asked her if she got my messages. She said yeah I got them, what can I do for you? And then I knew you slept with her.”

  “I told you we didn’t go to bed!”

  “Gaddamn, Drew! You should not have even gotten involved with her. Just so you know, I think she’s blocked the deal. I hope you’re satisfied!”

  “Are you serious? But we spoke to the board and everything and they—”

  “Drew, you don’t know who you’re dealing with. She put us in front of that board, and all it would take is a sneeze and we’re out the door. I know you were good in the presentation and all, but trust me, if they have the comptroller telling them they should consider one of the other firms, we are out, like a scout, on a new route. Gaddamn, Drew!” she said, massaging her temples with one hand. “I just wish you would have told me, then I could have prepared for this.”