Close Quarters: A Novel (Zane Presents)

by Ray, Shamara

  “Why is it so difficult? Is it because he’s a colleague of yours?”

  “Melina, believe me, I wish the situation could be different, but it can’t. Trust me when I tell you I have to do this alone.”

  I didn’t want to push it. I had to take Giselle at her word. I suppose it wasn’t an ideal situation if she had other plans, but she would be fine. She wasn’t the first and she wouldn’t be the last single mother. Thankfully, she had friends and family who loved her and were ready and willing to help in any way. Right now I needed to get Giselle to remember that she wasn’t alone. “Charlee told me that she’s been trying to contact you for a few days.”

  “I know, I need to call her back. I’ve been catching up on some much-needed rest.”

  “You’ve been spending your vacation pent up in this apartment?”

  “I’ve been out.”

  I studied the dark circles under her eyes. Her hair was curly and hadn’t been blown straight like she usually wore it. “Where?”

  “Melina, don’t grill me.”

  “I’m not. Have you eaten?”

  “I had breakfast.”

  “It’s almost seven p.m. What happened to lunch and dinner? You’re a doctor. You should be the last person that needs the you’re eating for two speech.”

  I got up and went into the kitchen. I washed my hands, then opened the refrigerator to see what I could fix Giselle to eat. At least it wasn’t empty. I was surprised to see that it was filled with food. Fruit, vegetables, juice and milk cluttered the shelves. I found a package of ground turkey in the meat compartment. I took a box of linguini and a jar of pasta sauce out of the cabinet, then busied myself, preparing dinner.

  Giselle stayed in the living room, flipping through the pages of her magazines, while I made linguini with turkey meatballs and a tossed salad. I set the table and summoned her over. She said a silent grace before picking up her fork to eat. I poured oil and vinegar dressing on my salad, then offered the bottle to Giselle.

  She shook her head. “I have red wine in the wine rack in the den.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Just because I can’t drink doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t.”

  “I’m driving, remember?”

  “I know you and that isn’t why you won’t have a glass of wine.” She smiled. “I appreciate the gesture.”

  That was the first smile I got since I showed up at the door. “How’s the pasta?”

  “Delicious. Thanks, Melina.”

  “Eat. We want a healthy baby.”

  Giselle’s eyes misted over. She laid her fork on the table. “I really am excited. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I am. The idea that there is a little life inside of me makes me so happy. It’s the extra baggage that accompanies the reality of the pregnancy that scares me—my career, my parents, being a single mother.”

  I tried to imagine what Giselle was feeling. I wondered what I would do if I were in her position. Financially I would be all right, but emotionally would I have the resolve? I didn’t know. “I can’t tell you that at times raising a child won’t be rough, but that holds true for all parents, whether they’re single or married. I can tell you not to let fear dictate your future. This pregnancy is a beautiful beginning for you. Accept the beauty in this situation and reject whatever has the potential to have a negative impact on you and this baby.”

  “Just promise me that you’ll be here for me . . .no matter what.”

  “No matter what,” I repeated. “Now eat your dinner before it gets cold.”

  Giselle ate everything on her plate and even had a second helping. After dinner, I washed the dishes and then joined her in the living room. We paged through her magazines and talked about her plans to have two nurseries, one in each of her homes. Even though it was still early in the pregnancy Giselle admitted she had been out shopping for baby furniture. She showed me a picture of a mural she wanted to have painted on the wall in the baby’s room. She assured me that she would hold off on decorating for a few months.

  I did see Giselle’s excitement peek through when she talked about the baby and everything she needed to do to prepare for its arrival. She said all she really wanted was a healthy baby, but she’d love to have a girl. I could only imagine a little Giselle running around in pink from head to toe, acting like a little lady. Unfortunately, Giselle wasn’t planning to find out the sex of the baby in advance. I’d have to wait until the first week of May to find out whether I was getting a niece or nephew.

  When I left Giselle’s, it was close to midnight. I sped to Brooklyn in record time, but it took more than twenty minutes to find a parking space in my neighborhood. I finally found a spot two blocks over from my brownstone. I parked the car, then started my walk home. It was a mild night for mid-November. The weatherman had forecasted daytime highs in the low sixties for the rest of the week but was expecting a severe drop in the temperature by the weekend. I gratefully accepted Mother Nature’s temporary bout of kindness but woefully anticipated the forty-degree weekend.

  • • •

  I called Charlee when I got home and told her I thought Giselle was going to be okay. Charlee and I agreed to take turns checking on her until we were certain that she was out of her slump. I had even invited Giselle to go to Maryland the next week with Ellis and me for Thanksgiving. We were spending the holiday weekend at my parents’ house and I thought Giselle might like to get away on a quick jaunt. She said she couldn’t make it because her family was having a big dinner in Connecticut and she was planning to tell them all about the pregnancy. I hoped that once she told her family a large chunk of her stress would dissipate.

  Charlee and I chatted about a baby shower before we got off the phone. It was a bit premature, but we couldn’t help ourselves. Between the two of us, Giselle could expect a baby shower extraordinaire.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  MALIK

  Kai brought me another beer. We were at her house chilling with a college football game—Syracuse vs. Florida State. She made wings and potato skins and we were kicked back with our game food and drinks. I dunked my potato skin in sour cream and ate it in two bites. Kai put a few more wings on my plate and handed it to me. She wanted to switch to the Notre Dame game, but I had money riding on this one. I bet my brother fifty dollars that Syracuse would win. Since I refused to let her turn the channel she started rooting for Florida State.

  “Cheer all you want. You and Amir are going to be disappointed when Florida gets their butt whooped,” I said.

  “Are we watching the same game? Syracuse is trailing by ten points.”

  “Sit back and watch. My team is gonna make a comeback.” I bit into a wing. “Amir is probably watching this and talking much junk like you.”

  “Can you blame us? There’s two minutes left in the third quarter. Your team doesn’t stand a chance.”

  “You sure my brother didn’t pay you to jinx my team?”

  “Sort of impossible since I’ve never met your brother.”

  “You’re better off not knowing him,” I said, laughing.

  “Is it just the two of you or do you have more siblings?”

  “Me and Amir, that’s it. But if you ask my mother she’ll include my father and tell you she has three kids.”

  Kai laughed. “I think most women consider their husbands as one of the children at times. It has to do with the maternal, nurturing care they give to their spouses.”

  “My father gets pissed when she refers to him as one of her kids. You want to see an otherwise mild-mannered man lose it? Call him a child.”

  “Sounds like a classic temper tantrum to me.”

  “You got jokes.”

  “Stick around, I’m just getting warmed up.”

  “Don’t quit your day job.”

  “I won’t. You’ve already got that covered.”

  “Not yet, I’m still working on it.”

  I had taken my father to breakfast, and then scouted out office locations, before I
landed at Kai’s place. I wanted to show him an office I was considering in the Gable building on Lexington Avenue. The location was optimal—Midtown—right next to Grand Central Terminal. My father inspected the suite and thought it would be fine, but suggested I consider New Jersey or Brooklyn for an office with comparable space and less rent. I explained to him that I needed to be in the city if I intended to have a leading advertising agency.

  Kai stopped smiling. “Are you sure you want to leave Newport and Donner? I know for a fact that Donner was extremely pleased with our presentation when we returned from San Francisco. His only suggestion was that we co-present to Sphere Electronics on Wednesday. If Sphere is impressed, which I know they will be, we’re both guaranteed sizeable bonuses.”

  “Kai, our meeting with Donner was on Monday. Why are you just now telling me on Saturday that he wants you to co-present?”

  “I didn’t think it was a big deal. We have three days to work out the kinks.”

  “Yeah, but we could have had over a week to get our act together.”

  “I know you’re not worried about this meeting with Sphere?” she asked.

  “This is a major account and we can’t afford to be slacking on it.”

  Kai put her plate down on the table. “The presentation is complete. It’s perfect. You have been pitching it on your own, but now I’ll be co-presenting with you. This is not my first major account. All of my accounts are large and lucrative. I can assure you that I will not be slacking. I wanted you to do the presentation on your own, but Gerry asked me to co-pitch.”

  “Gerry,” I scoffed. “Donner’s already seen this presentation twice and both times I’ve presented it. Why the change?”

  “He feels if I share the presenting, I can subconsciously show Sphere Electronics that our ads also target women. He wants Sphere to get the sense that female consumers will also play their racing game.”

  “Right.”

  “You think there’s another reason Gerry wants me to co-present?”

  “Hey, listen, it’s his company and what he says goes, right?”

  “Gerry believes in our campaign and feels one minor change will clinch the deal for us.”

  “Kai, I don’t have a problem with you pitching Sphere. My concern is the last-minute notice and the fact that Donner didn’t tell me about the change.”

  “I apologize, that was my fault. He asked me to tell you and I never got around to discussing it with you. I hadn’t anticipated you would want more time to prepare.”

  “And you ask am I sure I want to leave Newport and Donner. I’m positive. I’ll be able to avoid all of this when I’m my own boss.”

  “I wish you would reconsider. Gerry likes you. He has you in mind for quite a few large clients.”

  “I’ll get larger clients but at my own agency. This morning, with barely any thought, I came up with a great ad for that new twenty-four-hour lipstick by Peck Me. They recently fired their advertising agency and they’re conducting a search for a new one. Picture a housewife giving her husband a chaste kiss before he goes off to work every morning. He always leaves wiping her lipstick off his lips with his handkerchief. Then, she tries Peck Me twenty-four. This time when she kisses her husband the kiss is passionate and steamy and they’re still kissing when the kids return home from school. They pull apart from each other and her lipstick is still perfect and he isn’t wearing any. The slogan will say, ‘Spend your day seeing if it lasts a full twenty-four hours.’ Donner took too long to throw me a bone. I’m taking my own advertising agency straight to the top.”

  “There’s no denying you’re talented. I only wish you would consider staying with Newport and Donner.”

  Kai’s telephone interrupted us. I went to the bathroom while she answered her call. When I came out she was in the kitchen adding more wings to the platter.

  She turned to me. “That was my friend Justine and her husband, Ira. They were running in Central Park and decided to drop by. They’re on their way up.” She handed me the wings. “Can you put those on the table for me?”

  I brought the wings into the living room. The doorbell rang. Kai shouted from the kitchen for me to answer the door. I went to let her friends in. I opened the door, then paused. Justine was five-feet-eight inches of fine—hair pulled back in a ponytail and ebony skin glowing, from the run I guessed. Her fitted running suit showcased her tight-bodied curves. The lips . . .I caught myself and remembered that Kai said Justine was married. I looked to the right, then down. Ira. Six inches shorter than his wife. Round. Balding. White. I shook my head and then extended my hand to him. I introduced myself to the couple and ushered them inside. Justine smirked at me as she followed her husband into the living room.

  I relinquished my seat on the sofa and went to sit in the armchair. Kai glided into the room and greeted her friends. She sat on the arm of my chair and draped herself around my shoulders. I glanced at her, but it went unnoticed.

  Ira reached for a chicken wing and Justine slapped the back of his hand. “Your diet,” she scolded.

  Ira recoiled from the platter. “You’re right. I almost forgot.”

  “You’re always forgetting.”

  His lips twitched nervously. Ira didn’t bother to respond to his wife. I instantly knew what was up with those two. Justine fixed a plate with wings and potato skins and chowed down while Ira salivated.

  Kai offered to get him some fresh fruit from the kitchen. He declined, then glumly took a celery stick from the wing plate. I tried to concentrate on the game and not Ira’s piteous face while he gnawed on his celery.

  “So, Malik,” Justine started, “you’re the one occupying Kai’s time. We haven’t seen her in weeks.”

  Kai ran her hand over my hair. “I told you I’ve been putting in a lot of hours at work.” She leaned over and kissed my cheek, then trailed her fingertips along my jaw.

  Kai was saying one thing, but definitely attempting to send a different message.

  Justine sucked the tip of her chicken bone, hypnotized by Kai’s performance. Ira reached for another celery stick, drawing Justine out of her trance. She looked at him and then patted him on the knee like a good dog.

  Kai chuckled, then asked me if I wanted more to eat. I told her no; I had enough.

  “Malik, you work with Kai, right?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  Justine glared at Kai. “That must be pretty uncomfortable huh, Kai?”

  “Not at all,” Kai said, sneering at Justine. “Ira, I think I have some low-fat yogurt in the fridge. Come with me, I’ll get you some.”

  Ira went with Kai into the kitchen and Justine scooted down the sofa, closer to my chair.

  “I bet your wondering what I’m doing with a man like Ira,” she said.

  “Actually, I wasn’t.”

  “Sure you were. I saw it in your eyes when you opened the door.”

  “You got me. The thought crossed my mind.”

  “It’s simple. Above all, a woman should always choose three things in a man: wealth, power and security. If you don’t believe me, ask Kai.”

  Justine slid back down the sofa as Kai and Ira returned. He had a container of yogurt in one hand and an apple in the other. Ira plopped down next to his wife and took a bite of his apple.

  “Who’s winning the game?” Ira asked.

  I looked at Justine and then Kai. “I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  MELINA

  I told my mother I would bake a red velvet cake and bring it to Thanksgiving dinner. It was the only cake I had mastered and every holiday it was my responsibility to have one on the dessert table. Thanksgiving was two days away and I didn’t have any of the ingredients in the house. I had come home from the office, changed my clothes and was heading down the brownstone steps, on my way to the store. Malik was walking up the street on his way from work.

  “Wassup, Mel. Where are you off to?”

  “The supermarket.”

&
nbsp; “Hold up. Let me throw on some jeans and I’ll go with you.”

  “Malik, I don’t have all night to wait for you.”

  “Five minutes.”

  “Hurry up. I’ll be waiting in the car. It’s down the block in front of the brownstone that’s being renovated.”

  I went to the car and let it run a minute before turning on the heat. The mellow sounds of Les Nubians piped from the speakers. I was too busy acting like a non-French speaking third member of the group to see Malik come down the street. I jumped when he opened the door and slid into the passenger seat.

  “Don’t stop singing. You were tearing it up, literally.”

  “Shut up,” I said, laughing.

  “Damn. You got the heat pumping in here.”

  “You know I can’t stand being cold and I really hate being in a cold car, sitting on cold leather seats.”

  Malik closed the vents nearest to him. I pulled out of my space and drove us to the supermarket, massacring the smooth French lyrics of Les Nubians. Sorry, ladies.

  • • •

  Malik pushed the cart as I tossed items for my cake inside. He periodically grabbed items from the shelves—a box of Captain Crunch cereal, microwave popcorn, a bottle of Coke.

  “How do you survive on that junk?”

  “I supplement it with your good cooking.”

  “Once I get married I won’t be there to cook for you.”

  “I have some time before that happens and even though you don’t think so, I can cook.”

  “I wouldn’t know it.”

  “What?” Malik stopped pushing the cart. “Are you questioning my skills?”

  “Malik, please.”

  He stepped around the cart and came to stand in front of me. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You saying I can’t burn in the kitchen?”

  His question was met with a blank expression. He walked behind me and spoke into my ear. “You doubt my skills?”

  His mouth so close to my ear tickled. I started to laugh. Malik lifted me up from behind and put me in the cart. My legs were dangling over the side.

  I started screaming. “Malik! Stop playing! Get me out of here!” I said between laughs. An elderly woman scrutinizing the boxed cake mixes frowned at us. Malik nodded at her, then proceeded to push the cart down the aisle. He passed the old woman and started pushing faster. I struggled to pull myself up and out of the cart. Malik made a sharp turn, throwing me back into the cart. He started running down the aisle. I was laughing so hard, tears were streaming down my cheeks. We were met at the end of the condiment aisle by the store manager. Malik slid to a stop before barreling into him. I attempted to stifle my laughter as Malik pulled me from the cart. The store manager turned around without uttering a word.