Never Too Soon

by Tamika Christy

  “Oh really?” Catie threw her arms up in surrender. “Am I so scary that I caused him to go out and cheat on me?”

  “What?” Anaya and Sophie exclaimed at the same time.

  “Are you sure, Catie?” Anaya put one hand on her hip and the other on her forehead.

  “As sure as I’m pregnant.”

  “I don’t believe it.” It was Sophie’s turn to do some deep breathing exercises. “Who is it?”

  “Believe it. She’s some dime-hoe masseuse.”

  “A masseuse? How do you know? Are you okay? When did this happen?”

  “Don’t worry about how I know. And, yes, I’m fine.”

  “Well what did he say?” Sophie asked.

  “He doesn’t know I know.”

  “What do you mean, he doesn’t know you know?” Anaya was suspicious. “That’s not how you roll.”

  “He doesn’t know I know. And actually it is how I roll. I didn’t get this far in life by revealing my hand whenever I get hurt. I haven’t said a damn thing.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I haven’t figured that out yet. But in the meantime, Antoine won’t be seeing this sweet, Kegel-reformed vagina.”

  “No, no, no,” Sophie said, pacing back and forth and still breathing dramatically. “You have to tell him that you know. You have to communicate!”

  Catie scowled. “No, Sophia, okay? No. He disrespected me for some two-bit trick. I’m not giving him anything. Least of all the opportunity to lie to me again.”

  “So you are just going to go on and not say anything? How long can you do that?”

  “Until I’ve figured out my next move.” Catie started to walk again. “How’s that for morning tea, ladies?”

  TWENTY

  The Board of Supervisors couldn’t unanimously decide when to lower the county flag to half-mast, so naturally, a project the size of the navy base development caused complete chaos. Most of the supposed leaders were rigid people-pleasers, so they balked at change and dodged accountability with the ease of swallowing a Tic Tac. Anaya would prefer to swallow rocks rather than sit in on yet another meeting about the navy base that would likely prove to be an unproductive waste of her publicly funded time. But that’s how things went in the county.

  The supes held a closed session to discuss the progress of the development agreement and the RFP. Anaya didn’t want to be there and Wendy didn’t want her there, but the supes insisted she come in case they had questions that Wendy couldn’t answer. They all knew how Wendy liked to play the amnesia card occasionally. Anaya had invited Jeff along because he knew contract law, and she knew the contracts were going to come up. Plus, he smelled nice.

  “I’m so happy you are at this meeting with me,” she murmured to him.

  The two sat in the back of the conference room while the board members sat in the middle of the room munching on Mexican takeout. Redundancy and ineptness didn’t faze them, but heads would roll if there weren’t enough tortilla chips. Supervisor Abramson devoured her beans and rice like it was the last supper.

  Wendy sat at the end of the table with a direct view of Anaya and Jeff. Rather than engage with the supes or Sue, she touched up her lips with Dior gloss.

  “Is it always like this?” Jeff whispered, leaning in. He looked striking in a cream merino sweater and slacks.

  “Oh, God yes,” she lamented. “They might be on their best behavior today because they don’t know you well, but you never know with this group.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” He nudged her arm.

  The meeting was called to order fifteen minutes after the scheduled time. Chair Memphis gave opening comments while Anaya shopped for apartments on her phone. After catching Jeremiah coloring with one of her MAC lip liners yesterday, she realized somebody had to go. She was checking out an overpriced studio when Supervisor Harris asked a question.

  “What’s the status of the development agreement for the navy base?” she asked.

  Here we go.

  “We are on task,” Wendy said.

  Wendy didn’t mention the RFP not getting out to all of the registered contractors. Anaya had heard from one of her associates that Wendy hadn’t been offered the Director of Government Operations position for the governor’s administration. But she was one of the final two candidates. In Wendy’s warped mind, she probably hoped the project implementation would coincide with a job offer for the position. Her rationale was as off as her eyebrows.

  Supervisor Fernandez looked at Wendy with his signature snarl. “I’d like to know the status of my requests as well. I’ve talked about the sex-trafficked, underage girls walking the streets many times and sent you emails, and nothing has changed. The girls are still out there. Every day, I see them. Supervisor Harris, you see them. Chair Memphis, you see them.” He pointed around the room to each board member before coming back to Wendy. “And I know you do too, Miss Woo. All this talk and we’re doing nothing. The other day, I counted sixteen young prostitutes on an avenue not too far from this building. Sixteen girls, and we aren’t doing anything about it. All this talk and no action.”

  Supervisor Fernandez’s familiar complaint was met with sympathetic nods but mostly silence. His concerns were notable but his lack of understanding was frustrating. Anaya and Jeff exchanged a glance.

  “First of all,” Supervisor Harris’s agitation increased with each word, “I know there is a problem with underage prostitution in some of our cities, but this is not the forum for this issue. We are here to discuss the potential job loss for our community if this agreement goes through without the appropriate contractor stipulations in place. Second of all, why in the world are you driving around counting prostitutes?”

  “Our cities are in a crisis, and we need to do something about it, that’s why,” Fernandez replied. “These pimps and johns should be arrested. Maybe you should count them too.”

  “Listen.” Chair Memphis raised a hand. “We need to get a grip here. We are expected to approve the agreement, the public is restless, and we’ve run out of tortillas. Wendy, time is of the essence. What’s the status?” He took a huge bite of his burrito.

  Wendy ran her fingers through her pixie haircut. “I think there’s a little confusion here. But that is what happens when we have inexperienced managers who don’t receive direction well.” The supes followed Wendy’s pointed glare at Anaya.

  Bile rose in Anaya’s stomach, and she fought the urge to sprint across the room and karate chop Wendy in the throat.

  “With all due respect, Chair Memphis and members of the Board,” Anaya interjected. She was out of order but didn’t care. “One of the perks of this project is that we will receive federal matching funds for some of our expenses. The requirements to receive those funds is that we begin the project before the end of the year, and since we are having issues with the RFP and it is already September, we are running against the clock. We run the risk of missing that deadline and losing the money.” It was partially true, but Anaya wanted to put pressure for the supes to make a decision. If she didn’t, they’d sit on this for weeks.

  “Is this true, Ms. Woo?” Chair Memphis asked with his mouth full.

  Wendy glared at Anaya again.

  “Ms. Woo?” Memphis urged when Wendy didn’t respond.

  “What? I mean, come again?”

  “Is that true? We can lose the grant money?”

  “No, that’s not true. I . . . um . . . We won’t lose the money because we’ll have all of this wrapped up well before the end of the year. The agreement language was amended like you requested and the RFP was sent out. The notion that we are going to lose funding is quite extreme.” She tried to raise a micro-bladed eyebrow in Anaya’s direction.

  “Ms. Goode seems to be under the impression that we aren’t on track,” Chair Memphis commented.

  “I think Ms. Goode is thinking about something different. We are right on schedule.” She sounded like a parent who was getting ready to reprimand the heck o
ut of their child.

  “Ms. Harris, what do you think?” Memphis asked. Supervisor Harris was the only one who ever read all of the information presented to them.

  “I’m not completely sure. I’d like to hear more from Ms. Goode.”

  “All right then. Ms. Goode, please explain.”

  A closed session was more informal than an open session, so Anaya stood and spoke from the back of the room.

  “Against my better judgment, the RFP was sent out with a restrictive bid. We need to re-open the RFP so all registered contractors have an opportunity to bid and avoid further liability for the county. Secondly, while Wendy is correct that the development agreement was amended, we seem to have run into a disagreement about the threshold for local hiring. My understanding is that it is fifty percent, but Ms. Woo wants to hold it at twenty. I can’t in good conscience sign off on that.”

  “Wait, hold on a minute,” Supervisor Harris sat up in her seat and spun towards Wendy. “Are you telling me that you want to limit our local contractor pool to twenty percent? Why on earth would you want to do something like that?”

  Wendy scoffed. “It’s not that I want to, Supervisor Harris. This demolition and development project is huge. Tantamount only to the development agreement with the football stadium fifteen years ago. If we start telling the developers who to hire and how many, they might lose interest. I’m just thinking of keeping jobs here.”

  “If a developer isn’t interested in hiring our talented local contractors, then we don’t want them here. The local hiring provision should be fifty percent! We determined that at the meeting back in July.”

  “I agree,” Chair Memphis said. Around the table, the supes were nodding.

  “Fine,” Wendy said. “We will make the change this week.”

  “No, you will make that change today and we will schedule a special meeting for Friday where we will approve the final agreement and put this damn thing to bed.”

  Anaya wanted to sing.

  “And what is this about the RFP not being sent to all of the registered contractors?” Supervisor Buckingham asked.

  “Nothing,” Wendy replied too quickly.

  “What does that mean?” Supervisor Harris’s bracelets clanked as she scooted her chair closer to the table.

  “Ms. Goode is incorrect,” Wendy declared.

  “Please,” said Supervisor Buckingham, raising her French-manicured hand. Unlike Wendy, Buckingham’s face made plenty of expressions, and her current one was of mild frustration. “Let us hear from Ms. Goode. Ms. Goode, please continue.”

  Anaya explained how the RFP process had been unnecessarily constrained by the requirement that the applying contractors be certified in the use of explosives, which was a service that was easily subcontracted by the winning contractor. Additionally, even taking into account only contractors who were certified in explosives, Anaya cited ten local companies that hadn’t been included in the RFP, and after reviewing the files, she discovered that far less than the required fifty percent had been included.

  When she finished, the room was silent. Then Abramson said, “I move that we re-issue the RFP and expedite the timeline for responses.”

  “Second,” Buckingham said.

  Memphis nodded. “Ms. Goode, make sure that new RFP gets out as soon as possible with a reduced closing date and report back in three weeks. And don’t forget to get that amended agreement to us by morning. I want to get that approved and out the door this week. Meeting adjourned.”

  “Great job!” Jeff said as they walked out. He nudged her arm playfully and their arms linked briefly. “But how in the world will you do a three-week turnaround?”

  Anaya held up a finger and pulled out her cell. “Hi. Bruce. It’s a go. Yep. They approved it. Send them certified overnight mail just like we talked about. Great. Thanks.”

  She smiled mischievously. “Just like that.”

  “How did you know they were going to approve a second RFP?” Jeff asked, impressed.

  “I know this board. They don’t want to look bad. This is our second bite at the apple and I knew once they found out the requests didn’t get to all of their beloved constituents, they would want me to re-send it. They don’t want to deal with angry labor unions. I was a little disappointed that they didn’t probe into why all of the contractors didn’t receive it, because I would have loved to see Wendy splutter her way out of that one. But you can’t have everything.”

  “So you already had the new RFP ready to go?”

  “Yep. I had my people working on it all last week. Bruce was just waiting on the signal to go. Everyone will have them within three days. This RFP will be fair, the development agreement will have our standard local hire terms, Wendy loses, and we make the deadline for our federal matching funds. Boom.”

  “I don’t know what to say. Very impressive, Miss Goode.”

  “Why thank you, kind sir,” she teased.

  He checked his watch. “The task force is meeting at four o’clock. You wanna grab a bite? I’m starving.”

  “I can’t. I have to run a few errands during lunch. I’m, uh, meeting my boyfriend Carl.” There, she’d said it. Her guilt was temporarily assuaged. Now to casually mention Jeff to Carl . . .

  “Oh, okay.” He awkwardly shoved his hands into his pockets. “I actually have a few errands to run myself. See you later.”

  Anaya was almost out of the building when she heard Wendy call after her.

  “Ms. Goode!”

  Anaya kept walking.

  “Mizz Goode, slow down!” Wendy’s heels clicked hard against the pavement.

  “I’m off the clock,” Anaya called over her shoulder after she had crossed the street. “I’m going to lunch.” She was more agile in sensible three-and-a-half-inch pumps than Wendy was in five-inch fish cage sandals.

  “You are never off the clock, Ms. Goode. You’re a director.”

  “Today I am.” Anaya walked faster until she thought she heard Wendy stumble. She finally stopped and looked Wendy square in the eyes. Wendy’s makeup was overdone. The severe arch of her brows and overdrawn lipstick looked more like a Cirque du Soleil character than a top-notch government administrator. She could also tone down the spikes in her pixie for the sake of professional reticence.

  Wendy glanced around before speaking and leaned in toward Anaya.

  “This thing you are doing has to stop. You risk costing the county millions of dollars. Is that what you want on your résumé?”

  Anaya wanted Wendy to fall flat on her face, but she had joined the public sector to help people, and if that meant she had to be cordial to a fire-eating dragon, then so be it. Professionalism was one thing, but being naïve was another. And Anaya was done with Wendy’s bullying and scare tactics.

  “I don’t,” Anaya said, not backing down this time. “Nor do I want it on my résumé that I participated in some shrewd coup. I spend a lot of time listening to you talk, Wendy. I watch you pat your face and use unflattering shades of lipstick when you should be paying attention. You mistreat people just because you can. I asked you for the full bid list, and you didn’t give it to me. I also told you that the RFP needed to go out to all the contractors and to forget that restricted bid nonsense. I found out on my own that more than sixty percent of contractors didn’t even receive the notice, and I told you we needed to resubmit the RFP. You decided to ignore me. I’m tired of sitting idly by while you intentionally derail this project. You only care about yourself and that job in the governor’s administration, but as long as I’m here, you will never see another opportunity to obstruct this project.”

  She left Wendy staring open-mouthed.

  TWENTY ONE

  After the closed session with the supes, Anaya had planned on meeting Carl at the party store to get some final things for Catie’s baby shower. She was excited to see him. It seemed like the only time they saw each other lately was when she was running errands. All of that would end when ground broke on the base before the end o
f the year. Soon, this would all be over and she could make things right between them again. She popped a Zantac before she got in her car.

  Carl was waiting in front of the party store. He was wearing a cobalt blue t-shirt and had a fresh haircut. When he smiled, she remembered why she fell in love with him. He came over to open her car door and greeted her with a long kiss.

  “Mmm,” she cooed. “I’ve missed that.”

  “Me too, baby.” He kissed her again.

  They held hands like teenagers and walked through the vast warehouse filled from floor to ceiling with goodies. He tickled her, and she threw some sample confetti at him. When he wasn’t dancing to the Mariachi music or trying on silly hats, he was staring at her. When she reached for a packet of silver balloons, he grabbed her around the waist. He was strong and warm, and she giggled as he kissed her neck.

  “We’re in the store, Carl.”

  “I’m fully aware of that. There’s nothing wrong with spreading a little love in the party store. It’s good for business.” He kissed her neck, and she laughed out loud.

  “Oh is it?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll tell you what else is good.”

  “Oh, what’s that?” She gave in and let him kiss her.

  “Don’t go back to work and I’ll show you,” he whispered in her ear.

  She longed to play hooky and spend the rest of the day at his place but the meeting with the supes only reminded her of how much work she still had to do. But she was in the final stretch. It was almost over.

  She groaned as he kissed her ear. “I have to go back. I have so much stuff to do.”

  “I have some stuff for you to do too.” He kissed her again. “I miss you, babe.”

  “I know. I miss you, too.”

  “I’m struggling, ma’am. I need some of that loving.” He grabbed her booty.

  “Boy, stop it.” She laughed.

  “Seriously, babe. I miss you. I need you. I don’t like spending this much time apart. It doesn’t feel right.”

  “I know. Once this project is over, you can have me all to yourself.” She kissed him.