Monique chuckled, but didn’t really take her married secretary’s request seriously. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Ed Primer is a keeper too, Monique. Try not to look at his pectorals.”
“Now why did you tell me that, Theresa? Just because you said that, it’s gonna be hard for me not to glance at his chest.”
“I’ll be glad to interview him for you.You want me to?” Theresa asked hopefully.
“Not a chance. Have the choir escorted to the studio; they’re on the air in fifteen minutes.” Monique exhaled deeply, then displayed a huge grin on her face and opened the door to her office. “Mr. Primer, how are you?”
At two o’clock in the afternoon, Theresa came into Monique’s office and set a bouquet of roses on her desk. Monique turned her attention away from her computer and looked at them curiously. “Who are those for?”
Theresa gave her an irritated look. “You know, Monique, to be a Senior Executive Producer, you sure ask dumb questions sometimes. Who do you think these roses are for, the cleaning lady?”
She gave Monique the small envelope that accompanied the roses. Monique silently read what was written on the card inside.
‘I hope the rest of your day goes better than the morning you had. I appreciate everything you do for me.’
Theresa leaned over across the desk to try and see what was written on the card. “I didn’t know Boris had it in him. He must be in the dog house.”
Monique quickly placed the card back in its envelope. “They’re not from Boris.”
Theresa’s eyes bucked out at Monique and the corners of her lips turned up in a sly sneer. “Aah, sooky, sooky, now. Somebody’s creeping.”
“Ain’t nobody creeping.”
“Who sent them then?”
“None of your business,” Monique answered.
“I knew I should’ve steamed the envelope open. Why won’t you tell me who sent them?”
“The card isn’t signed. I don’t know who sent them.” Monique didn’t lie about the card not being signed, but she definitely knew who had sent the roses to her.
Theresa looked deeply into Monique’s eyes. “You’re a liar.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re lying, Monique.”
Monique leaned back and crossed her legs. “Uh, Theresa, don’t you have some work to do?”
“Nope, I’m done for the day.”
“No, you’re not. I need a proposal typed for Mr. Wiley.”
Theresa put her hand on her hip. “I’ll get back to work when you tell me who sent the roses.”
“Is that right? How about you get back to work right now before you find yourself standing in the unemployment line this afternoon?”
Upon leaving Monique’s office, Theresa said, “Where there’s a will, there’s a way. And I’m willing to find out who sent those roses.”
When Theresa shut the door behind her, Monique took the card out of the envelope and read it again. She read the card a third time before inserting it and its envelope in the paper shredder. Back at her desk, she smiled as she dialed Adonis’s work number. It was a familiar number to Monique. Boris had gotten Adonis hired at the electric company making good money. Monique keyed in his extension, and her call was answered on the second ring.
“Hi, it’s Monique. You busy?”
“Never too busy to talk to you.”
Her smile got wider. “I just wanted to call and thank you for my roses. They’re beautiful.”
“Beautiful roses for a beautiful lady. They’re my way of saying thanks for accepting me into your house and making me feel at home.”
“You are family, Adonis. Of course, Boris and I would welcome you.”
“That means a lot to me. Aunt Myrtle raised me and Boris to always appreciate the people who go out of their way for us. My father’s sister is more like a mother to me than an aunt.”
Well, at least one of you listened to her, Monique thought. “After graduating from music school, I could’ve moved back in Aunt Myrtle’s house until I got on my feet, but to me, that would be like taking a step backward in life. But I promise to be out of your basement within a couple of months. I’m sure I’ll find a nice condo real soon.”
“Where are you looking to buy?”
“Somewhere in the south suburbs; possibly Burr Ridge.”
“Arykah is a realtor. You should give her a call. I’m sure she’ll be glad to help you find something. Really, really, glad.” The city of Burr Ridge was big money, and Monique knew that Arykah would jump on that.
Adonis remembered the vibes Arykah gave him in church yesterday. “Uh, thanks but no thanks. Nothing against your friend, but I’ve already contacted a realtor to help me.”
As a best friend, Monique fulfilled her duty by referring Arykah Miles when she knew of someone interested in purchasing property. But truth be told, Monique knew that Adonis was very wise in seeking an agent elsewhere because Arykah would be on him like white on rice. “Well, take all the time you need. I enjoy having you, and I’m sure Boris does too. I’m sorry for the spats you have to witness on a daily basis. I know our basement hasn’t turned out to be the peace and quiet you thought you’d get.”
“Monique, you don’t have to apologize for anything. I grew up with Boris, remember? Aunt Myrtle raised us as brothers. He is the same today as when we were teenagers. When you left this morning, I told Boris about himself. I tried to get him to see that he was wrong for not refilling your gas tank.”
“And I can just bet he tried to make you think I was overreacting by complaining about it, didn’t he?”
“Of course. It’s just like Boris to do that. But I had serious man to man words with him, and I think he understands that he needs to be more attentive to you and your needs.”
Monique became speechless. Boris was three years Adonis’s senior, yet he had to take love lessons from his younger cousin. As far as Monique was concerned, Adonis could stay with them forever. With his foot constantly up Boris’s butt, she was guaranteed to be treated like the queen she was.
Adonis’s two-way pager beeped. “Well, it looks like I have a job to do. I’m being summoned to Loyola Hospital. Apparently, one of the elevators lost power and someone’s stuck inside.”
“Oh my, that’s terrible,” Monique said. “I’ll let you go so you can get over there. I’ll see you at home, and thanks again for my roses.” Monique disconnected the line and dialed Boris’s cellular number.
“Talk to me,” he said.
“Hey.”
“You sound like you’re still in the bed. You ain’t up yet? I didn’t know I could put it on you like that.”
Monique frowned. Did she dial the correct number? “Boris, it’s me. What are you talking about?”
Immediately the telephone line went dead. She removed the receiver away from her ear and stared at it in disbelief. Instead of pressing the numbers of Boris’s cellular number again, Monique opted to redial the last call to see if she had accidentally dialed the wrong number. Her call was sent directly into Boris’s voicemail. Monique placed the receiver on its base and thought about what Boris had said. There wasn’t any touchy feely activity in their bedroom that morning, so Monique wondered who he was talking about or who he thought he was talking to.
It was twenty minutes later when Theresa sent Boris’s call through to Monique.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Why did you hang up on me when I called the first time?”
“When did you call me?”
“So, now you’re gonna play stupid, huh? I called twenty minutes ago, Boris. You said something about me being asleep and putting it on me.”
“Monique, my cell phone ain’t rang all day. I don’t know what you’re talking about. You sure you dialed my number?”
It really ticked Monique off when he tried to play her for a fool. “I’ve been dialing your number for two years, Boris. I think I got it right by now.”
Boris heard the hostility in h
er voice. “Look, Monique, I’m at a job site, and I don’t have time for this. I don’t know who you talked to, but it wasn’t me, okay? I was just calling to see how you’re doing, but as usual, I see you have an attitude for no reason, so I’ll talk to you later.” Boris disconnected the call.
Monique sat at her desk steaming. There was no question she had dialed the correct number, and it was no question that Boris had answered. The question to ask was, ‘Who was he messing around with?’
She took one of Adonis’s long stemmed roses from the vase and inhaled the scent. Never too busy to talk to you . . . It’s my way of saying thanks . . . You’ve done enough, it’s time for you to relax, I’ll clean the kitchen . . . Thanks, Monique, you’re somethin’ else . . . I appreciate everything you do for me.
“Monique.”
She blinked her eyes a few times and saw Theresa standing on the opposite side of her desk. “I’m sorry, Theresa, what is it?”
“Didn’t you hear the intercom? I’ve been buzzing you for the past five minutes. Mr. Wiley is holding on line three.”
Monique reinserted the rose in the bouquet, dismissed all thoughts of her houseguest, and pressed the third button on the telephone. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Wiley. What can I do for you?”
Monique drove into the driveway at six-thirty that evening. She saw Adonis pushing the lawnmower back and forth across the front lawn. She’d bet Boris was in the house with his eyes glued to the ESPN channel while his cousin played the role as man of the house. This was probably Boris’s way of saving money. Normally, he’d pay the thirteen-year-old boy next door to mow the lawn.
Before she exited the car, Monique sat behind the wheel and watched Adonis. Under the hot June sun, his muscles glistened and sweat soaked through his white tank T-shirt. Adonis walked behind the lawnmower to one side of the lawn, took a pair of scissors from his back pocket, then knelt to cut weeds.
Monique got out of the car and strutted up the walkway. “Hey, you.”
Adonis looked up at her. Monique saw streams of sweat cascading down the sides of his face. Adonis’s complexion was like none other, and Monique understood why Arykah was so smitten with him. The sun beamed on his skin and made it shine.
“Welcome home. How was work today?” Adonis asked.
Monique shrugged her shoulders. “Okay, I guess. Work was work, nothin’ to brag about.”
Adonis stood and wiped his face with a towel.
Sweet as candy. Monique had to mentally check herself. She was thinking like her best friend. What was wrong with her? This man was her fiancé’s cousin, which meant he was off limits. Arykah’s devilish ways were rubbing off on her.
“That’s a nice suit you’re wearing, and your hair is pretty,” Adonis complimented.
Monique was confident in her own skin. Men of all ages and races were attracted to her pretty brown features and voluptuous curves upon first sight. But compliments had stopped flowing from Boris’s lips to her ears long ago. Adonis confirmed what she already knew; she was a beautiful black woman. “Thanks, Adonis, but as big as I am, I need to be on a diet.”
“Monique, unless your health is at risk, you shouldn’t change anything about yourself. You’re gorgeous.”
She blushed and looked down at her ivory-colored stilettos.
Adonis sat on the first step of the porch. “Tell me about your day at work. This morning, I heard you say that you had a meeting.”
Could Adonis be for real? She’d been with Boris for two years, and he had never asked about her day at work. The times she tried to share with him the details of her day, he’d blown her off. Monique set her briefcase on the bottom step and leaned against the banister. “Well, WGOD has lost a lot of listeners over the age of fifty. In the meeting this morning, I suggested that our deejays dedicate an hour of their airtime playing gospel music from the fifties, sixties, and seventies.”
“That sounds cool. Did your boss like your idea?”
“Yep, he loved it. He ordered all of the old school music to be brought up from the archives. The new WGOD goes into effect at midnight tomorrow.”
Adonis clapped his hands and applauded Monique. “Congratulations. If you keep solving problems, a promotion may present itself.”
It saddened Monique that Boris wasn’t as enthusiastic about her work. It was a shame that his cousin could so easily step in and play the supportive role. “I hope so, Adonis. Where’s Boris?”
“He left about a half hour ago. He said something about getting Aunt Myrtle’s prescription for her diabetes refilled.”
“Her prescription was just refilled on Saturday.”
Adonis threw his hands in the air and stood. “Hey, I thought that’s what he said, but don’t quote me on it. I could be mistaken.”
Monique picked up her briefcase and went into the house. She poured Adonis a glass of grape Kool-Aid on ice and brought it outside to him. “You look like you could use this.”
Adonis graciously took the glass from her. “Monique, you’re a godsend.”
Mesmerized, she stood and watched his Adam’s apple move up and down with each swallow he took. Beads of sweat ran down his neck and dissolved into his tank.
He gave the almost empty glass to her. “That was right on time, I appreciate it.”
Monique took the glass into the kitchen. Before she placed it in the sink, she looked at the sip of Kool-Aid Adonis had left. She ran her finger along the entire rim of the glass, then swallowed what was left in it.
In her bedroom, Monique undressed and stepped into palazzo pajama pants with a matching tank top. She hung her suit in the closet, sat on the bed, picked up the telephone and called her mother-in-law to be. “Hey, Gravy, how ya doin?”
According to Monique, Myrtle made the best homemade gravy in the world. Since the first time she sat at Myrtle’s dinner table, Monique had been calling her ‘Gravy’ because that was her specialty. When other members of Boris’s family called Myrtle by the nickname Monique had given her, Myrtle put them in their place. She said that name was for Monique’s use only. Boris was Myrtle’s only child, and she had always told Monique she thought of her as the daughter that she never had.
The two women were very close. There had been times when Monique shared things with Myrtle that she hadn’t shared with anyone else. Having lost her mother to a brain tumor at the impressionable age of sixteen, Monique was happy to have Myrtle Cortland. Myrtle always favored Monique during the spats she had with her son. Many times she told Monique to leave Boris because he didn’t realize how special she was.
“Baby Girl, one man’s loss is another man’s gain. I don’t care if he is my son, you deserve better,” she’d said.
“I’m still in the land of the living, so I guess that’s a good thang. How’s my Baby Girl?”
‘Baby Girl’ was the nickname Myrtle Cortland assigned to Monique the first time she had met her. She said Monique’s skin was as soft as a baby’s bottom.
“I’m fine, Gravy. I’m looking for Boris. Is he there?”
“Is he supposed to be? ’Cause I ain’t seen him if he is.”
That was the reason Monique loved Myrtle. She never covered for Boris, no matter what. “Adonis said Boris was getting your diabetes medication refilled.”
“I got my medicine refilled two days ago. Boris ain’t been here.”
Once again, Monique’s suspicions had been confirmed.
It was just about midnight when Boris came into the bedroom. Monique lay on her side facing away from him, staring at the wall. Boris didn’t bother turning on the light. He undressed as quietly as he could, put his clothes in the hamper and went to the bathroom. When Monique heard the water in the shower going, she got out of bed, stormed in the bathroom, and snatched the shower curtain back.
“Where have you been, Boris?”
He stood in the shower with soapsuds covering every inch of his body. “What?”
“Where . . . have . . . you . . . been? And before you say ‘my mothe
r’s house,’ I already called her.”
Boris knew his absence would raise Monique’s red flags. Earlier in the evening, he had called his mother and asked her to lie about his whereabouts, should Monique call her house looking for him. Myrtle had informed Boris that Monique had already called and she didn’t lie for him. But Boris had come up with a back-up. “Monique, can I finish my shower first?”
She ignored his question. “Where have you been?”
“I was at church, practicing.”
“Practicing what?”
“I was getting ready for choir rehearsal on Wednesday.”
Monique shifted and placed all of her two hundred plus pounds on her right leg. “If the musicians were rehearsing tonight, why was Adonis here?”
“I was practicing by myself.”
She knew Boris was lying. “So, you’re telling me that you’ve been at church all this time. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yeah.”
Monique walked out of the bathroom and slammed the door. She got back into bed and stared at the dark ceiling, contemplating. When she heard the water in the shower stop, she turned toward the wall and closed her eyes.
Downstairs, Adonis lay awake in bed listening. He wondered why his cousin refused to honor and respect his good thing.
As soon as Monique strapped herself in the seatbelt Tuesday morning, on her way to work, she took her cellular phone from her purse and called Arykah’s house.
“It’s seven-thirty. You better be on your deathbed,” Arykah answered sleepily.
Monique chuckled. “Good morning to you too. It’s time for you to get up.”
“No, it’s not. I got about seven minutes of good sleep left. I hit the snooze button five times.”
Monique frowned. “You must be talking in your sleep, because I don’t have a clue what you just said, Arykah.”
“Who is this?”
“Arykah, will you wake up and talk to me?”
“Who is this?”
“It’s me, Monique, and I got an issue.”
“You ain’t got no tissue?”
Monique wanted to cuss. Her gut instinct told her to hang up on Arykah but she wanted to talk. “Arykah, wake up.”
A Woman's Worth Page 3
