by Mary Monroe
“What’s wrong now?” she asked as soon as she looked up from her cluttered desk and saw me standing in her doorway. There was a scowl on her face, which was normal for a pit bull like Gloria. She was one of the most confrontational women I knew. For reasons she kept to herself, she was mad at the world. My predecessor had abruptly resigned because of all the stress Gloria had caused her. Even our boss, Mr. Mizelle, was terrified of this sister. For the sake of my nerves, I addressed her only when I had to.
“Do you have a few minutes?” I asked. Even though I had approached her in a nonthreatening manner and with a smile, her body stiffened. Within seconds her perpetual scowl intensified.
From the way she reared back in her chair, I could tell that her neck was ready to roll. I diffused that with an even wider smile. She still asked me in a guarded tone of voice, “What did I do now?”
“Nothing’s wrong, Gloria. I was just wondering if you could do me a favor.”
She hesitated and eyed me with suspicion and exasperation. “That depends on what it is.” Her voice was already on the husky side, but when she was not in a good mood, she sounded downright masculine. Like now. It sounded like I was listening to Darth Vader.
Even though Gloria and I were close in age, she looked like somebody’s grandmother. Most of her frizzy hair was white at the roots. She had permanent frown lines around her mouth and on her forehead. Now she was the one wearing muumuus to work three or four times a week. Last year I had occupied that role, and she used to offer comments of pity on my attire from time to time. Had she been nicer to me, I would have donated some of my fat clothes to her, instead of to Goodwill and the Salvation Army.
Gloria didn’t even attempt to hide her impatience. She moved a Snickers Bar wrapper and a half-eaten scone on a napkin around on her desk until she located a pen. “What is it?” she asked, tapping the tip of the pen on her desk.
I took a very deep breath before I opened my mouth again. “Gloria, I…Girl, that’s a lovely blouse you have on today,” I told her, clapping my hands together like a seal. “Is it new? Red looks so good on you. But then you look so nice every day….”
Gloria was the kind of person that you had to use a lot of butter on if you wanted to bring her up to an acceptable level of civility. I didn’t like to be insincere or phony, but I had come to believe that you had to do what you had to do when it came to people like Gloria. As soon as I stopped talking, she seemed to soften right before my eyes. The generous helping of butter that I’d just offered her melted in her mouth. A wide grin immediately replaced her trademark scowl.
“Oh? You like my blouse?” she replied, twisting around in her seat so I could see the blouse better. It really was a lovely blouse, but it didn’t do much for her. For one thing, it was so small that the thread around each button had already started to unravel. I guess I didn’t respond fast enough with another compliment, because Gloria wobbled to her feet, brushing off the sleeve of her blouse, still grinning. “I got it at the Tiger’s Den the other day. I go there all the time. I’ve seen you in there before, too, so I know you know how hard it is for big oxen like us to find something cute.” She smiled. I was disappointed to hear that she still thought of me as a big ox.
“Yes, I do know,” I said. I felt so abruptly defeated that my shoulders slumped, and I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. Her assessment of my appearance was a veiled insult. Apparently, I had not used enough butter on her.
Her next comment caught me completely off guard. “But you are blessed because you don’t have to go to the fat women’s store no more since you lost all that weight. And I’ve been meaning to tell you how sharp you look these days,” Gloria said, with a nod. I was pleased at the way she looked at my outfit with admiration and envy.
“Thank you, Gloria.” I stood up straighter and cleared my throat.
“Now what favor did you want?”
“I know you are busy, but could you please check around and see who all is available for lunch next Monday?” I said. “And let them know it’s on me.”
Gloria’s jaw dropped, revealing a mouth full of cavities, even though we offered all our employees an insurance plan that covered 90 percent of their dental needs. “Lunch? Are you taking us to lunch?”
I nodded. “Yes and no. I’m going to have lunch brought in and served in the break room. You all deserve it, and, I’ve been meaning to do it for a while now.” I didn’t like telling that lie, but it was such a small one, it didn’t bother me that much.
“All right,” Gloria said, picking up a notepad. “I know I’ll be available for lunch next Monday. What kind of food are we talking about? Please don’t include fried chicken wings. Black folks done worshipped chicken wings so much, it’s a wonder we ain’t all sprouted feathers and wings ourselves.”
“We won’t be having any chicken wings,” I said, with a chuckle. “But when and if we ever do have chicken, you don’t have to eat any of it. I will make sure you have a lot of other things to choose from.”
“But I do love me some chicken breasts and thighs, so don’t cross chicken off your list yet,” Gloria said, holding up her hand like she was trying to defend herself.
“I am going to check out Off the Hook, that new place I keep hearing about.”
I could tell from the look on Gloria’s plain, round face that my choice pleased her. Her eyes got wide, and she smiled even more. I was tempted to tell her that she should smile more often. Despite her cavities, she still had a fairly nice smile. When she smiled, she looked a lot more attractive and younger. But I didn’t want to move too fast. This sister was the kind that you had to approach with extreme caution.
“What you say!” she shouted, with a look of pure ecstasy on her face. This time she was the one clapping her hands like a seal. “That’s some good stuff, girl. My godchild Gootie had Off the Hook cater her wedding last week. I will get you a list of names for lunch right away.”
Gloria was so excited, she almost knocked me down while trying to get out of her cubicle so fast. She wore a black, floor-length skirt that fluttered and flapped like a bedsheet on a clothesline with each step she took. The tail of it swept the floor like a whisk broom. From her body language and reaction, I knew that I had hit on something good. Now all I had to worry about was this Louis Baines and me hitting it off.
CHAPTER 16
I knew that Gloria liked to eat. That was obvious. And it was no secret that I had not missed too many meals. At least half of my other employees were carrying around more meat on their bones than they should have, too. Food was obviously the drug of choice in my workplace. Therefore, I was convinced that the lunch proposal was a brilliant idea. Work would be a lot more pleasant if my employees were more cheerful and more cordial to me. And the way things were in my personal life, I needed something to boost my morale.
I felt so good the rest of that day that I didn’t even think about the fact that my husband was giving me the cold shoulder on a regular basis, with no explanation.
When I got home that evening around six, Pee Wee was already slumped in his La-Z-Boy, snoring like a moose. The TV was on, and there was a ball game on that he had taped a few months ago. My daughter, Charlotte, had taped a note to the front of the microwave oven to let me know that she was across the street, having hot dogs and baked beans for dinner with one of her little friends. It was a Wednesday sleepover. She had school tomorrow, but she had taken a change of clothes with her, so I didn’t have to worry about that. There was some leftover baked chicken in the refrigerator, which I had planned to serve for dinner.
Charlotte was growing up and anxious to spend even more time with her friends and their families. Since I’d led such a sheltered life and had so few friends, I was pretty lenient with her in that area. But I thoroughly checked out each family that she associated with. The only friend I didn’t allow her to sleep over with was a girl named Lonna Trapp. Lonna had an alcoholic stepfather and three teenage brothers, who had already fathered a few babies
. I knew that I wasn’t God and that I could not protect my child from everything, but I did everything I could possibly do to keep her from being victimized by some predator. I didn’t want her to repeat my history.
I didn’t even bother to remove my black leather jacket. I looked at my watch and turned back around and went outside. I didn’t realize I was walking on my tiptoes until I had stepped off the porch. There was no reason for me to be so quiet and cautious. Armageddon would not have disturbed Pee Wee, with the state of unconsciousness that he was in. But I didn’t want to take that chance. I didn’t want him to wake up, because I was not in the mood for another brush-off. Before I knew it, I was driving toward Louis Baines’s restaurant.
I was greeted at the door by a fairly young brother, with a body that immediately made my mouth water and my crotch itch. “I’m Louis Baines, your host and head cook,” he told me.
I didn’t see any reason to tell him my name yet, so I didn’t. But I told him that it was nice to meet him. He was balancing a large silver platter in the palm of one hand as he smiled at me. The whole scene seemed symbolic. Here was a gorgeous man coming in my direction, about to serve himself to me on a silver platter. He was not that much taller than me, but he was built like a linebacker. He had smooth light brown skin and long, thick black hair, which he wore combed back like a duck. He reminded me of Ron O’Neal, the man who had starred in that gangster movie from the seventies called Super Fly. His eyes were so black, they sparkled when the light hit them. He had nice full lips and a nice smile, even though his teeth were a little dingy and crooked. But he was so fine, he could have had fangs like Dracula’s hanging out of his mouth and it wouldn’t have mattered.
“Sister, will you be eating here, or would you like to order to go?” he asked, handing me a menu with his free hand.
The platter that he was balancing contained a meat loaf in the shape of a heart. I couldn’t tell if that was gravy or sauce flowing from the top of it like lava. But whatever it was, it belonged in heaven. I had planned to get a plate to take home, but I felt so comfortable, I decided to stay.
“Uh, I will be eating here. May I have a booth?” I asked, giving him one of my biggest smiles.
“Follow me,” he ordered.
I trailed behind him like a puppy. He stopped abruptly and turned to face me, still balancing that platter in one hand. Without a word of warning, he draped his arm around my shoulder and led me to a booth in the back of the small main room. He gently helped me sit down, guiding me as if I was an old woman. But he wasn’t looking at me as if I was an old woman.
It was a small restaurant and nothing to write home about. Plastic curtains covered the windows, and the floor looked like it had not been waxed in weeks. There were six dull brown vinyl booths along the wall and several tables in the center of the room. Despite the fact that the tablecloths looked cheap and outdated and the place mats were made out of paper, the restaurant had a nice, homey feel to it. My host must have been reading my mind.
“I hope to have this place looking like a showroom in a few months. But I was warned that it would be a struggle to get a new business off the ground. If we survive the first few months and make a decent profit, I will be happy.”
“Well, I hope that you will,” I told him.
He sucked in a deep breath and pursed his lips, looking at me like I was a piece of meat on a silver platter myself. The thought of that almost made me laugh. “If you don’t mind me saying, you sure do look nice today,” he said. “Those braids make you look so regal.” He must have been having a damn good day—or I was hotter than I gave myself credit for!—because he was beaming.
“Thank you,” I replied in a low voice, patting the side of my head, glad now that I’d let my hairdresser talk me into wearing braids again. I shifted my butt to a more comfortable position. I tried not to look at my charming host, but it couldn’t be avoided. He was looking me straight in the eyes.
“Now, if you will excuse me, I have to get back to that newlywed couple over there,” he said, with a grin, nodding toward the heart-shaped meat loaf on the platter and then toward the other side of the room. I was not interested in the newlyweds, so I didn’t even bother to look in their direction. “Your waitress will be with you in a few moments. I wouldn’t want to keep a sister like you waiting long.” He winked at me. I didn’t know if he was just being nice or if he was flirting. I was relieved when he disappeared from my view.
He returned so fast that I didn’t have much time to inspect his place more. But I didn’t need to. I was already impressed with everything I’d seen so far. When a young waitress approached my booth, with her pad and pencil ready to take my order, he politely waved her away.
“Did you decide yet?” he asked me, that beaming look still on his face.
I hadn’t even looked at the menu. “No. But why don’t you tell me what I’d probably like?” I suggested. I swallowed hard, and I wanted to pinch myself for saying something that sounded so suggestive. The last thing I wanted this man to think was that I was on the prowl and looking for some action, because that was not the case. Despite the fact that I was neglected and ignored at home, I had no desire to start something with another man.
“I’ll take good care of you,” he told me, giving me a mysterious smile.
If he was trying to provoke me, he was doing a damn good job. But like I said, I was not looking for any action. I had had it, and if that was all the action I was going to get, I had to live with that. However, I liked knowing other men still found me attractive.
No matter how innocent the encounter was, and despite our mutual innuendos, I should have gotten my meal and run the hell out of that place. But I didn’t, and I would live to regret that decision for the rest of my life.
CHAPTER 17
I was glad that I had ordered just a half order of the deep-fried shrimp. But even that was too much. The order included fries and a roll, but I had requested that those two items be left off my plate. After just a few bites, I started to burp like a baby. And even though I covered my mouth with my hand each time, a man in the booth in front of me turned around and gave me a dirty look.
After finishing just half of my half order and half a glass of iced tea, I felt so stuffed, I knew that it would be to my advantage to stop eating. My stomach felt the way it used to feel during my all-you-can-eat days, like I was about to explode. It was a feeling that I could no longer tolerate, and I avoided it as often as I could. I had read somewhere that when a woman lost a lot of weight, her stomach shrank. I didn’t know if that was true or not, but I couldn’t eat nearly as much as I used to eat.
I didn’t know how long my body would continue to reinvent itself, so I planned to enjoy it for as long as I could. I loved having a real waistline. I recalled how Aretha Franklin had lost a tremendous amount of weight back in the seventies. Then she’d flaunted her new body in a pair of hot pants! But her weight had returned with a vengeance. The last time I saw her on TV, she looked like Moby Dick, the same way I used to look. I didn’t want the world to ever see me like that again.
I was looking downright cute today, and I knew it. I had on my moderately tight black leather skirt with a modest split up the side. It was one of my favorite pieces of clothing. I had liked it so much when I tried it on in the boutique on Jersey Street where a former Miss Richland shopped that I had purchased two more just like it at the same time. Under the matching jacket, I had on a white blouse that was cut just low enough to tease. I still had most of my ample bosom, and it was a lot firmer than it used to be. My sporadic trips to the gym had paid off. I had noticed how Louis’s eyes had lingered on my bosom when he seated me.
I had paid the cashier and was on my way back to my booth to leave a tip on the table when Louis came back out of a room I assumed was the kitchen. I’d seen a couple of waiters and the same waitress who had attempted to wait on me coming out with trays of food and tall drinks.
“Sister, I hope you enjoyed your meal,” Louis said, h
is eyes traveling from my face to my bosom. He stood dangerously close to me in front of the booth.
“I did,” I assured him as I dropped a 30 percent tip on the table. “Uh, can I take a menu with me to look over? I understand you do catering.”
I already had the goods on this man and his business. Before I’d left my office, I’d called Rhoda up again. She had told me what was on his menu and all the catering details. And he was such a nice dude that I liked him already.
“Yes, I do offer catering services.” His eyes sparkled even more. “You can take a menu and anything else out of here that you want. Including me,” he offered, with a wink.
I was glad that I was too dark for him to see me blushing. My face felt like it was in front of a campfire. I gave him a slightly exasperated look and shook my head. “Thank you, but a menu will be enough,” I said, winking back at him.
“Just kidding. I hope I didn’t offend you.” I could see clean through the apologetic look that he offered with a sheepish grin. Had I been naked, this man could not have shown more interest in me.
“You didn’t,” I told him. “It takes a lot to offend me.”
He sniffed and smiled, and then he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “When I get too close to the speed limit, would you let me know?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know what the speed limit is in this state,” I said, and I was telling the truth.
“I don’t either, but something tells me I might be getting close to it. I know I’m gwine a little too fast….”
I smiled at him and blinked. “But you can keep going. You might catch me, and you might not.” I had never behaved in such a brazen and flirtatious manner before in my life. Even during my days as a prostitute. “Are you this friendly with all your female customers?” I asked boldly, folding my arms. It seemed like everything I did drew attention to my bosom. At least in his case. He looked at my bosom again, this time so long that I shifted the strap on my purse so that it was in front of me, as opposed to hanging off the side of my shoulder.
