by Alle Wells
“For real? I didn’t know you could do that.”
Willie fanned the tomato slices. “Uh-huh.”
I sighed. “Man, I really need to do that.”
Willie put the knife down and looked up. “Just go over to the community college. They’ll set you up in classes to prepare you for the test.”
“Okay! Thanks a lot, Willie!”
He laughed. “Now, can you show me that move one more time?”
As I left, I made an unsuccessful attempt to recapture my surfing move.
***
As I walked across the community college campus for the first time, I had no idea how many hours I’d spend there over the next two years. I admired the new academic buildings with tinted glass windows, as I pressed the bar that opened the door that led to the continuing education building. I had written G.E.D. five times on my goal list. But my head was full of doubt when I faced the sour-faced lady behind the glass.
I sucked in a breath of air, hoping that it would wipe away my fear. “I’m here to apply for a G.E.D.”
The woman slid a packet through the small opening in the glass. “Come through the door on your right. Have a seat at one of the desks and fill out this form. You can take an evaluation exam today. The class fee is sixty-five dollars.”
I completed the application form. Then I answered the questions that covered the basic subjects I had studied in high school, and stood at the window and waited.
The woman looked up impatiently. “Did you change your mind?”
“No, ma’am. I filled out the form and answered the questions.”
“Oh. Well, have a seat. A placement counselor will be with you shortly.”
A large, round gentleman wearing a blue polka-dot bowtie stuck his head out of an office door. “Miss Harris?”
“Yes,” I answered. I had decided not to let people know that I was married, preferring to pretend like it never happened.
“I’m Jim Karriker. Please come in.”
My claustrophobia kicked in as Mr. Karriker loomed over me in the tiny office. I slid into a plastic chair opposite his desk and fought the urge to bite my nails. Taking tests had always been my greatest weakness. I focused on the ceiling tiles and waited to hear the verdict.
“Miss Harris, you answered all of the questions correctly on the evaluation test.”
I felt my shoulders relax and my mouth drop open. “I did?”
His lips curved up. “You must have been a good student in school.”
“No. Not really. But I guess I learned more than I thought I did.”
“You’re eligible to take the General Education Development test. This is a more advanced test than the General Equivalency Diploma. It will also serve as an entrance exam for enrollment here. Are you planning to enroll in classes?”
I shrugged. “I haven’t really thought about it.”
He gave me a handbook. “Take a look at the programs we offer. You may find something you like.”
I accepted the book out of respect more than interest. “I might like to take a business class.”
Mr. Karriker leaned back and folded his hands over his large belly. “Would you like to take the General Education Development test today?”
“Yes, sir.” I felt like the small room was closing in on me as I turned the doorknob.
“Miss Harris,” he called after me. “Remember what they say: a mind is a terrible thing to waste.”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
I left his office and took the test that day. Later, the slogan that I’d seen on so many billboards between Tennessee and Florida haunted me. I had always thought those words were meant for someone else. But Mr. Karriker had spoken directly to me. Maybe it was time for me to listen.
Chapter 10A new man walked into my life in 1975. He was very different from Jack. His inspiration and guidance would pave the way to my future.
The Invitation
I was completing the requirements for an associate’s degree in Business Administration. Not much had changed in my life other than becoming more educated. I drove the same car, lived in Mrs. Wilkerson’s carriage house apartment, and had the same job. Magazines and TV shows talked about women’s liberation, but nothing had changed in the world I knew. Men were still in control, and a woman’s beauty was her only influence over them.
Two years flew by quickly, and I had no plans for the future. The small goals I had set for myself had been accomplished, and I had run out of ideas. I rolled my eyes when the four young attorneys walked in. They were my regulars because Maude and Sue refused to serve them. Cockiness and rude behavior was their game, and they played it well.
They were busy, laughing at a dirty joke, when I filled their water glasses. Exhaling a hopeful sigh, I hoped that I would skid through the service unnoticed. Two plates had been served. One of the guys reached into his pocket and used their favorite name for me.
“Hey, Cucumber! Boy, have I got a tip for you!”
He paused until his buddies tuned in, and then held up a quarter. “Get a nose job!”
“Woof! Woof!” they barked and howled with laughter.
I quickly gathered the full plates and loaded them back on the cart.
“Oh! So you gentlemen want doggie bags? I’ll be right back!”
I wheeled the cart into the kitchen, stood against the wall, and waited for my heart to stop racing.
Willie eyed me. “You all right?”
I looked at him through wet eyes. “Willie, when are we going to get out of here?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Beats me.”
Knowing that I’d have to face them sooner or later, I returned to the dining room and caught a glimpse of their backs as they walked to the door. I looked at Larry, standing to the side.
“What happened?”
“Ah, I told them to scram. It’s about time I stood up to those guys, anyway. Take a break. I’ll cover for you.”
I poured a glass of tea and walked through Sue’s big tipper section toward the break table.
“Excuse me, do you have a moment?”
I turned instinctively at the sound of the man’s voice. “Do you need something? I’ll get Sue.”
A diamond pinky ring sparkled as he waved his hand. “No, no. Don’t do that. But may I have just a moment of your time?”
Seeing that Sue was nowhere around, I joined him at the table.
He offered his hand. “I’m Tom Harris.”
His handshake felt firm, yet gentle. I smiled at the irony, and said, “Nikky Harris!”
Tom had a tanned face and a bright smile. “How about that? We could be related!”
I brushed my hair back, nervously. “I don’t think so. I’m from North Carolina.”
Tom sipped his coffee, thoughtfully. “I’ve watched you for quite some time, Nikky. I like the way you handle yourself, especially with those rowdy chaps. Tell me a little about yourself. What are your plans?”
I felt like I was back in Mr. Karriker’s office. Part of me wondered what he wanted from me. Part of me felt discouraged and wanted to talk to anyone, even a stranger. “I have no plans at the moment. I’m just here to do my job. Why do you ask?”
Tom leaned closer. “I’d like to offer you a better job. Like I said, I’ve been watching you, and I like what I see. I have a sixth sense about people. My intuition tells me that you have great potential.”
I saw a gleam in his eye that lit a spark in me. “Doing what? What do you do?”
“I’m a realtor. And I don’t mind saying that I’m a very successful realtor. My association is forming a new alliance called the Multiple Listing Service. This service will give our members access to each other’s real estate listings. The listing service will be a terrific tool. As president of the association, I’m looking for someone to create and maintain the listing database.
“I want you, Nikky, because I see something in you. A bright, energetic woman like you can have a promising future in real estate.”
He held up his hand, and the diamond ring flashed again. “Call me, Tom.”
I managed an unconvincing smile. “Tom, I don’t know what to say.”
At forty years old, Tom stood about five feet tall, and weighed no more than a hundred and twenty pounds. But the energy and power that exuded from his dark, curly head and near black eyes was gigantic. As he crossed his legs, I wondered what he paid for his beautiful suit and gorgeous shoes.
He held his chin in his hand and studied me. “Say yes. When will you be finished with school?”
I was caught off guard and studied him, too. “How did you know that I was in school?”
“Look, Nikky. Don’t assume that I’m playing a game here. The only game I play is the money game, and I’m inviting you to play. Now, you don’t think that I would invite you to play if I hadn’t checked you out, do you?”
Something clicked inside me. I realized that his invitation held the key to my future. He was offering me a way out of Primmosa and opening the door to the life I’d always dreamed of.
“Forgive me. Of course you wouldn’t. I’ll finish in two weeks.” I hesitated. “Tom, thank you for the offer; I promise I won’t let you down.”
Tom nodded. “I know you won’t, Nikky. You stick with me, and I’ll show you how to become a very rich woman. Rich enough to ruin that guy at the table this morning, if that’s what you choose to do.”
Rising to the Top
I was twenty-one years old in May of 1975 when I began my career with Harris Realty. I left Goldie in the parking lot next to a beautifully manicured lawn. The modern building with skylights gleaming from a slanted roof was framed in tinted windows down one side. I felt the soft fibers of the plush red carpet on my toes as I stepped inside. I wore high heeled sandals and a simple, white, sleeveless polyester dress with a dropped waistline. My new contact lenses allowed me to wear my hair swept up in a topknot on my head without looking like a total geek.
The bright, airy front office had an abstract painting on the back wall and a large Schefflera in the corner. The modern workstation included a switchboard telephone system, a typewriter, an IBM word processor, and a Xerox photocopier. A hallway ran along the outside windows with office doors on the opposite side. Tom came out of the first office. I towered over him like a giraffe as I reached for his hand. His statue may have been small, but his voice boomed with enormous force.
“Good morning, Nikky!”
My ankles wobbled a little in my high heels as I greeted him. “Good morning.”
“Come into my office. We’ll talk.”
I immediately thought of money when I walked in Tom’s office. Everything about the room sent cash registers ringing in my head. I sat in a leather chair that felt like it was too big for me. The small voice of insecurity whispered that maybe the job was too big for me, too. Tom sat in a tufted leather chair behind his massive desk that looked like it was made especially for him.
“Welcome to Harris Realty. I have four associates here, all male. As a strong advocate of the women’s liberation movement, I welcome you wholeheartedly. You will have no limitations here. You can go as far as your dreams will take you.”
He paused, and I felt like it was my turn to talk. “I’ve always had big dreams. I even practice visualization to make my dreams come true.”
Tom’s dark eyes sparkled. “That’s fantastic, just what I like to hear. As you believe, so shall it be.”
I felt a sparkle in my own eyes when I heard the familiar phrase. “Yes sir. I believe that, too.”
“Nikky, I look at today as the beginning of a long partnership. You don’t have to ‘sir’ me or hold back any punches with me. I want you to feel like you are among friends. You’ll be breaking new ground as a woman in this business. The realtors in my organization are men. I chose you because I feel like you have the ability to pave the way for other women.”
Tom opened a drawer and tossed a bundle of banded bills on the desk. “Here’s five hundred dollars. It’s your clothing allowance for the summer quarter. There’s a little shop called Gigi’s over in Belle Meade. Do you know the place?”
I shook my head. “No.”
Tom laid a map on the desk. “The address is in the phone book. The first thing on your agenda today is to meet with Gigi. Then I want you to study this map until you know every nook and cranny of South Nashville. Our business is all about location. I want you to have a firm picture of the area plastered on your brain. Oh, and take a phone book with you. Keep one in your car.”
***
I found the address and headed toward the exclusive section of town. John Denver sang “Rocky Mountain High” on the radio as I worked my way toward a new high of my own. I pulled into a parking space in front of the exclusive shop. The trim suited mannequins displayed fashions that reminded me of television stars. I stared blankly at the gorgeous women floating behind the large pane window and told myself, Okay, Nikky. You know what they say; you can either fly with the eagles or scratch with the chickens.
Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons” greeted me as I opened the cottage type door with crisscross window panes. The floor was carpeted in pink champagne that matched the feminine pieces of furniture scattered around the shop. I had never been in a clothing store that didn’t have racks of clothing to choose from. A petite, immaculately groomed woman with Italian features walked toward me.
“Hello, I’m Gigi. You must be Nikky. Tom just called to say that you were coming.”
I managed a pleasant expression and a nod.
Gigi clasped her hands together. “Shall we get started? Please, let’s sit. I’ve put together a few ensembles for you. Let’s take a look.”
“Okay,” I said meekly, as I sat among the large pastel pillows scattered on a soft, white sofa.
“Wendy and Sarah will be your models today. I hope you will like what I’ve chosen for you. Just let me know if you’d like to see anything else.”
I nodded and greeted the two beautiful women there to serve me. Wendy was tall, dark, and sleek. Sarah was an auburn-haired, fair-skinned beauty. I stared at them and felt like I was living a dream.
Gigi called out, “Wendy, you will be first.”
Wendy circled in front of us on the parquet floor, while Gigi described what she wore. “Wendy is wearing the preferred colors for business wear this season— red, white, and blue. The red and white diagonal striped dress is accompanied by a solid navy jacket.”
Sarah replaced Wendy on the floor, and Gigi continued. “Sarah is wearing a white cotton A-line skirt, a red striped bow-tied blouse, and pin-striped navy jacket. The first two selections are perfect for any business occasion.”
After a slight pause, both women returned to the stage without a prompt from Gigi. “Here is Wendy, wearing a sleeveless navy blouse with fully lined white trousers and a matching white jacket. Sarah is wearing the same trousers with the red striped bow tie blouse and a navy blazer. This is a nice ensemble for traveling or weekend attire.”
Gigi walked over to a mannequin and ran her hand along the smooth lines of the display.
“Finally, we have a simple, belted sheath dress. This dress comes in beige or black and is suitable for daywear or informal evening wear.”
The models disappeared behind the curtained dressing room, and Gigi turned to me.
“Well, what do you think?”
“I’m amazed! Everything is so beautiful.”
Gigi’s lovely face lit up when she heard how pleased I was. I could tell that she took great pride in her work. “Good! We’ll take your measurements to make sure that everything will fit you perfectly! But, first, let’s go to the next room for your shoes and accessories.”
I followed her to an adjoining room filled with glass counter displays of handbags, costume jewelry, scarves, and gloves. A corner of the room was reserved for trying on shoes. She led me to the shoe corner first.
Gigi held up a blue and white pump. “The preferred sho
e for business attire is the close-toed pump with a two-inch heel. The two-tone navy and white is very popular this season. We have a casual open-toed sandal in red, white, or blue. Again, nothing higher than a two-inch heel is considered appropriate for business wear. The open-toed sandal should only be worn with slacks. Wear the close-toed pump with skirts and dresses.”
Gigi looked at my legs. “I see that you aren’t wearing pantyhose. No matter how pretty your legs are, pantyhose are a must!”
I wanted to slump down and scrunch in my toes when Gigi politely pointed out how inappropriately I was dressed. I gave in to Gigi’s recommendations and secretly thought, I guess that’s what happens when a hooker teaches you how to dress!
Choosing scarves and “appropriate” costume jewelry was fun. Gigi suggested a smart looking navy Aigner handbag that matched my blue and white pumps and navy sandals.
Gigi tapped her manicured fingers together and said, “We have one more stop. Follow me.”
The last step in my makeover process was the intimates and cosmetics department. Gigi educated me in the importance of wearing the proper undergarments and applying the correct touches of makeup.
“Okay, Nikky! You’re all set. What would you like to wear today?”
I looked down, chuckling slightly. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t wear this!”
Gigi leaned back and looked me over. She scrunched her nose and shook her head.
I laughed. “Okay, I know! I need pantyhose and proper shoes.”
Gigi agreed like a mother hen.
“I’ll wear number one.”
Gigi looked surprised. “Oh, would you like number tags for them?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Chapter 11I relied on Gigi to dress me for many years. I rarely shopped on my own. She put so much time and energy in dressing me that I felt like I was cheating if I shopped anywhere else. By relying on Gigi and numbering my outfits, I was free to focus on business.
The Realtor
I rarely ran into Mrs. Wilkerson. I thought that it was ironic that she rushed out the back door that day as I was taking the shopping bags out of Goldie’s trunk.