What Matters in Mayhew (The Beanie Bradsher Series Book 1)

by Cassie Dandridge Selleck

  43

  We’re Not Hiring

  Dottie Brentwood opened Sweet Lee’s Dress Emporium feeling like she’d aged about twenty years. She was tired, that was all. Tired of the big fat elephant that sat in every room of every establishment in this town. And, bless his heart, Suvi Jones just pointed him out, plain as day, and dared anyone to deny it. We ought to be past this by now, Dottie thought to herself as she flipped on every light in the store and opened the cash register.

  She spent the rest of the day stocking new inventory and planning for the upcoming Woman’s Club fashion show that the Emporium was hosting. Dottie couldn’t wait to tell Sweet about all the things she had planned for the shop, but Bubba John had advised her to wait for some reason. She wasn’t sure exactly why. She could only imagine that Sweet might be worried about how the shop was staying afloat in her absence. But afloat it was, and Dottie was thrilled. She felt like she’d found a new calling and, for once in her life, felt like she had a career and not just a job.

  By shortly after lunchtime, Dottie had decorated the window with dresses and gowns for Christmas parties, and a new sign that advertised tuxedo rentals for next year’s prom festivities. She hadn’t stopped to eat, and her stomach was growling in protest when the front door opened and Kenya Green walked in asking to fill out an application.

  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” Dottie said. “I wouldn’t have an application to fill out even if I did have a position open, which I don’t. I’d love to have some help, but I’m not sure we can afford it just yet. What kind of work are you looking for?”

  Kenya, a striking young woman with brown skin, clear amber eyes and thick dark curls all over her head, gave a small, resigned smile and shrugged her shoulders.

  “Anything I can get, honestly,” she said. “I’ll wait tables, sweep floors, sell dresses…whatever it takes. I just need a job. Preferably one I can walk to from home.”

  “Aren’t you still in school?” Dottie asked. “You’re Addie Gee’s granddaughter, right?”

  Addie Green ran the Head Start program in town, where Dottie worked part time several years ago. Addie Gee, as all the children called her, ran a tight ship. She was determined that “her kids” were going to reach kindergarten on track, and she tolerated no slacking from her seriously underpaid staff. Dottie would have stayed, but the pay just wasn’t enough to live on.

  Dottie knew the whole story. She was still working at Head Start when Addie’s daughter Chantelle died after an all-too-brief battle with cancer. She had raised Kenya by herself ever since.

  “Yes, Ma’am, Addie’s my gramma. I’m a senior this year, but I’m in AP classes and I get out before noon almost every day. I’ll be close to having an associate’s degree when I get out, but I need to save up some money so I can go to college next year.”

  That Addie Gee’s granddaughter was going to college didn’t surprise Dottie at all.

  “Where you going?” she asked.

  “I hope UF,” Kenya said, “but FSU and FAMU aren’t out of the running until I get all my letters back. Plus, it’s gonna matter where I can afford to live. That’s why I’m saving up.”

  “Do you have a car?”

  “No, ma’am, and that’s the other problem. There’s plenty of jobs over in Live Oak, but I can’t get there. I need to find something here.”

  “Well, honey, I would hire you if I could, but I don’t own this shop and I just don’t have the say-so. Have you checked next door at The Big Pig. I know Suvi’s short a waitress right now. You’d get some good tips at lunch time if you can come in that early.”

  Kenya sighed. “I went there yesterday. He said he wasn’t hiring right now.”

  Well, what in the world? Dottie thought.

  “Hang on a second,” she said, and picked up the phone. She dialed the number for The Big Pig and waited. Suvi picked it up on the third ring.

  “Hey, Suvi, it’s Dottie. I’m about to starve. Can you fix me up a hamburger and fries? I’ll come get ‘em in a minute.”

  “Sure thing. Want a coke to go with that?” Suvi asked.

  “No, just the food. I got bottled water,” Dottie said.

  “Okay, give me ten minutes. I’m stacked up over here.”

  “No rush, but hey—while I got you—are you still looking for someone to cover the lunch shift?”

  “Yeah, I could use someone for sure. Cherry’s still hit or miss. I gotta let her go at some point. Why, are you ready to come back?”

  “No, I was just checking.” Dottie said. “I’ll see you in a few.”

  When she hung up the phone, she turned to Kenya.

  “I guess I was wrong. He says he doesn’t need anyone right now,” Dottie lied. “How about the new real estate office going in? I met Miss Gabe the other day and she seems real nice. Maybe she could use some help in the office.”

  “Is that the place on the corner by the traffic light?”

  “Yeah, the old chiropractor’s office,” Dottie said.

  “I went by there the other day, but no one was in. I thought maybe it wasn’t open yet,” Kenya said.

  “Well, watch for a black Mercedes parked out front then. That’s what she drives, so if the car is there, she should be, too. I’ll be pulling for you, hon.”

  The two chatted for a few more minutes until a customer came in looking for a Christmas dress.

  “Let me know how it goes at UF,” Dottie said. “And thanks for stopping in.”

  “Thanks, Miss Dottie,” Kenya replied, and slipped out the door of the shop.

  ***

  Ten minutes later Dottie went straight to the Big Pig, entering the kitchen through the back door where she found Suvi and his cook discussing the heat of the fire in his smoker. And speaking of hot, Dottie Brentwood had already worked herself into a lather.

  “If you think you are going to get away with refusing to hire somebody because they’re black, you have got another think coming,” Dottie said, without even waiting to be acknowledged. “You know good and well this isn’t about her age. We’ve had younger than her working here plenty of times.”

  “Aw, come on, Dottie…” Suvi avoided looking at her.

  Dottie leaned toward him, hands on hips. “Please explain to me why you didn’t hire Kenya Green.”

  Suvi sighed and shook his head. “I don’t have time for this right now.”

  “Why, ‘cause you got a restaurant full of people who don’t have enough servers?”

  “There is nothing I can say to make you understand, and nothing I can do to make these people any different than they are,” Suvi said. “Somebody, at some point, will get a kinky black hair in their food, and my business will just go downhill from there. I’m telling you, it will. So, unless she wants to shave her head like mine...”

  “So, you’re going blame it on this town?”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “To shake things up for a change…rock the damn boat.”

  “You wanna rock the boat, Dottie? You rock it yourself. I don’t have that luxury.” Suvi turned away and started loading plates of food onto a tray. “Y’all made these rules, not me.”

  “No, you didn’t. You sure did not.” Dottie’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. “But I’ll be damned if you didn’t just fall right in line with ‘em.”

  “That’s enough,” Suvi said.

  But Dottie was not through.

  “Do you really want that beautiful girl to live her life the same way? Feeling like there’s always some kind of line she can’t cross?”

  “You think there’s not?”

  “Oh, I think people draw lines all right. All over the damn place. But that doesn’t mean you can’t cross them if you want what’s on the other side.”

  “So what is it you think happens when one of us po’ black folk cross that line, Dottie. You think we’re just welcomed with open arms? You think it’s my rejection that’s gonna harm that child? She’s been rejected worse than that in grade school by teachers who ought
to know better.”

  Dottie spoke through the tightness in her throat. “You can’t just give in to keep peace. Who’s gonna change it, if not us?”

  “Good question. Maybe you can figure that out sometime. Because let me just tell you, if your solution to this problem is to come over here and try to fix me, you are part of the problem.”

  “Do you really mean that?” Dottie said, her face quivering as she fought back tears.

  “I wish I could say no,” Suvi said. “But, yes, Dottie—I really mean it.”

  And with that, Suvi took the serving tray he’d been holding and exited the kitchen.

  ***

  An hour after Kenya Green left her real estate office, Gabe Warren was down at The Big Pig ordering a slab of ribs and a side salad. Suvi seemed surprised to see her when he delivered the ribs himself.

  “Hey! I didn’t see you come in. What brings you out in the middle of the day?”

  Gabe grinned. “Well, I was hungry for one thing, and I hadn’t yet tried your famous ribs. I hope I’m not setting myself up for disappointment.”

  “Well, if I’d known it was you out here, I’d have taken extra care.” He set the plate down in front of her. “Did Cherry tell you about the sauces?”

  “Cherry?”

  “The waitress. Cherry Allred, believe it or not.”

  “Ouch.” Gabe winced and shook her head. “She took my order and disappeared, actually.”

  “Yeah, she stepped out for a smoke break. It’s quiet this time of day and she had a helluva lunch shift. Anyway,” Suvi said pointing to four bottles on the table, “those are our sauces. I make them myself. Clear is regular, red is hot, yellow is mustard sauce and white is sweet.”

  “Got it,” Gabe said.

  While Suvi headed back to the kitchen, Gabe replayed the conversation she had with Kenya Green, a charming young woman who she would love to hire if she could. Unfortunately, Gabe needed someone full-time who could grow with the company, and Kenya was leaving for college in less than a year. She was certain she remembered Kenya saying she had applied for a job at the barbecue place, the dress shop and the courthouse, and Suvi already said his was the only barbecue in town.

  Gabe Warren grabbed the sweet and hot sauces and doused her ribs with both just as Suvi returned with a plate piled twice as high as hers.

  “Whoa, buddy! That’s way more than I can eat!”

  “I thought I’d join you.” Suvi slipped an empty plate from beneath the stack of ribs and placed it in the center of the table. “Boneyard,” he announced, as if it weren’t obvious.

  “So, you’re looking for another waitress, huh?” Gabe said before she could stop herself.

  “Yeah, Cherry’s not terribly reliable and I have two other part-timers who work when they feel like it. Hard to find good help these days.”

  Gabe took a bite of rib and hummed her appreciation. “You weren’t kidding,” she said, washing it down with a gulp of sweet tea. “These are something else.”

  “Secret recipe,” Suvi said, and wiped a smear of sauce from his cheek.

  “Kenya Green stopped by my office today looking for a job.”

  Suvi looked up from his plate and frowned. “Did Dottie call you?”

  “Who’s Dottie?”

  “Never mind.”

  “Well, I thought she said she stopped by here but you weren’t hiring. Seems to me like she’d be perfect for this job.”

  “Oh, she’d be great,” Suvi said, “no doubt about it.”

  “But?”

  “But the job would not be great for her. Dottie was just in here accusing me of not wanting to rock the boat and I hate to admit it, but that’s probably closer to the truth than the excuse I gave her.”

  “What was that?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I could hire Kenya today and everything would probably go fine, but I can’t take the risk. I know what would happen. Most people in this town wouldn’t think twice about having her serve them, but they would treat her like a servant. They would tip her less, and talk down to her as if she didn’t deserve better. But that’s not even the worst of it.” Suvi’s hands tightened into fists beside his plate. “The first time some redneck son-of-a-bitch looks at her sideways, or calls her a name, or makes a joke at her expense, I will take him out. And then what? Then where will I be?”

  Gabe said nothing. Just studied Suvi’s face and nodded softly.

  “I’ll tell you where we’ll be,” he went on. “That boat I rocked will roll on by, and the only people in it will be white. And they will all say, ‘Look at that big, angry black man. He’s a danger to society. Better throw him in jail.’ That’s how it’ll be. That’s how close to the edge I live.”

  “Then why do you stay?”

  “There’s a certain comfort to living in a town you know, with people who know you. There is, and sometimes this boat is the safest place to be.”

  Gabe spoke through the tightness in her throat. “As much as I know this is true, Mr. Jones, it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t rock it a little. At some point you have to be willing to make white people as uncomfortable as you have been. Lord knows it won’t kill ‘em.”

  Suvi stared at Gabe for a moment.

  “I’m tired, Gabe. Tired of weighing everything I say. Tired of trying not to look like a threat. Tired of being invited to the barbecue and not the birthday party. I’m tired of being tired.”

  “We’re all tired, old son.” Gabe reached into her purse and pulled out a yellow sticky note. “Here’s Kenya’s number. She wants to go to UF and she needs all the help she can get. If you won’t hire her, maybe you can at least make some phone calls to your alma mater. I’m pretty sure you won’t regret it.”

  Cherry Allred appeared then, reeking of cigarette smoke and alcohol. “You need me to get those, Suvi?” she asked pointing to the largely untouched plates of ribs and fries.

  “No, thanks. I’ll finish up here,” Suvi said. “Why don’t you go on home? I’ll call someone to take the evening shift.”

  “I kinda need the money…”

  “Go home, Cherry,” Suvi said. “Just…go home.”

  44

  Working on Mayhew Time

  Bubba John Atwater was getting a good dose of his own medicine being on the receiving end of work done on Mayhew time. No one was in any particular hurry, and if you were promised a job complete in a week, you might just as well accept that it will take at least two. Everyone operated that way and the only people who dared complain were outsiders moving in, which is why that very thing was discouraged.

  Bubba was having a heart-to-heart talk with the contractor’s foreman when Nonie Crawford showed up at the house.

  “Hey, I was hoping I would catch you out here,” Nonie made her way through the construction debris wearing far more sensible shoes than one might expect with the suit she had on. In one hand she carried a clipboard and Sweet’s idea book. In the other, she dangled three different sets of swatches all attached to metal rings. “I’ve got a box of tile samples in the back of my car. Do you mind grabbing that when you get done there?”

  “I think we’re about through now, but it isn’t good news,” Bubba said.

  Nonie stopped in her tracks and turned to face the two men.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Materials missing, crew laying out, orders delayed, you name it, apparently.” Bubba shook his head.

  “I don’t know what else to tell you, Mr. Atwater,” the foreman said. “This ain’t the only job we got goin’.”

  “I understand that, Carl, but y’all promised this job would be done on time when I hired you, and I don’t mean just kind of promised. Y’all swore to me you could get it done.”

  “Hang on,” Nonie interrupted. “What’s the holdup, Carl? What are you missing?”

  “Drywall, for one thing. And I ain’t got any hangers right now if I did have the materials. Plus the flooring is delayed again. It ain’t easy to get real hardwood on short no
tice.”

  “That’s true, I’m sure, but it isn’t impossible.” Nonie dropped her swatches on the front steps. “Whew, that was killing my arm. Bubba John, can I talk to you for a minute? In private, I mean. Carl, don’t you move.”

  Nonie turned and entered the house and Bubba John followed. Carl did as he was told and stayed put.

  “You cannot let these guys run all over you now,” Nonie said once they were out of earshot. “We are on a strict deadline and you told me yourself money is no object. If they can’t get it done, I guarantee you my Jack knows half a dozen independent contractors who can be out here tomorrow. You go tell him that and see how fast they find drywall hangers. They’ve already got the permitted stuff done, Bubba. We can finish it ourselves if they won’t move.”

  Bolstered by the pep talk, Bubba John returned to the front yard armed with newfound confidence. He did have plenty of money. And he had a trailer that would haul everything they needed from Live Oak.

  “Nonie’s right, Carl. I don’t have time to wait around for y’all to get your act together. I’m gonna head over to Live Oak right now and get what we need to keep moving here. I don’t know what you pay your drywall hangers now, but I bet I can find a crew that’ll show up tomorrow morning for what I’ll pay ‘em to do a good job.”

  “How much is that?” Carl asked, expecting to get a good laugh.

  He didn’t laugh when Bubba John gave him the rate he was willing to pay.

  “We’ll get on it first thing, Mr. Atwater. You get us the drywall and I’ll have a crew here. Hell, I’ll hang drywall myself for that kinda money. What’re you gonna do about the flooring?”

  “You tell your boss I need to know when that shipment is due, and to cancel the order if it’s any later than Friday. I’ll drive over to Jacksonville myself if I need to. I don’t have any time to waste, Carl. I’m not kidding. Tell him y’all are fired if you can’t stick to your promise.”