"Yes, about the chores," I said, turning away from the subject of identity.
She inhaled deeply and nibbled at her bottom lip. "I hate cleaning toilets. Showers are just as bad."
Thus far, we had cleaned up after ourselves and I thought it was a good system, but I absolutely hated washing dishes. "So you guys will alternate cleaning your bathroom? I have no objection. What about the common areas?"
"We could alternate days or maybe make a list of what we like to do and what we hate to do," said Red. "So, that's washing dishes, cleaning the common areas, maybe even yard work, if you want."
"I would love it if someone else handled the dishes," I said. "I don't mind cleaning the living room. My next door neighbor, Jamal, cuts the grass. We can make a list after Penelope moves in so we can get her buy-in. What about you guys?" I asked Melia and Albertine.
"Penelope? You finally found someone to take that last room? I am so excited to meet her!" Albertine beamed. "The chore list, yes, that's an excellent idea."
"I want to object on principle," Melia said as she sat back in her chair. She crossed her arms and studied Red. "No good reason. I just didn't want it to be unanimous."
I grinned. Albertine laughed. There was strained patience on Red's face as she glanced at Melia. The mood in the kitchen was light. I realized this was the first time I hadn't eaten dinner alone in over three years.
CHAPTER SEVEN
That Friday, I volunteered for the afternoon shift. It was the perfect excuse for not hanging out with Red. I could have been blunt and told her that I wasn't interested in getting that personal, but I didn't want to create any strain between us. I wasn't interested in getting caught up in her lifestyle. Besides, working extra shifts would put me in a better financial position.
I pulled into the employee parking lot at the back of the store. I approached the employee entrance, but when I tried to slide my badge, the door didn't open. I swiped it again, but nothing happened. Oh damn. Wasn't this how Melia was fired?
Shit. Shit. Shit. The customer complaints had finally caught up with me.
I walked around to the front of the store. If they were going to fire me, they were going to have to do a hell of a lot more than deactivate my security badge. As I approached the front entrance, I noticed three fire trucks parked outside. More than a hundred people stood in the parking lot and there was a row of police cars and ambulances between the onlookers and the building. I could hear the muffled sound of a fire alarm from inside.
I noticed my supervisor and her best friend chatting with each other. They waved at me as I approached. Glancing back at the building, I expected to see flames and puffs of black smoke, but I saw nothing.
"What's happened?" I asked my supervisor, Ina. She was a bristle-headed, White woman in her late thirties. She had a shrill, high pitched laugh that made anyone within five feet of her cringe and move away, fearing that their head would explode.
Ina turned to me with a blank look. "Didn't you get my phone call?" Our relationship was based on fake civility. We exchanged blank stares, but our thoughts were explosive. If she knew the curses I hurled at her in my mind, she'd place a restraining order against me. She didn't strike me as the brightest kid on the lot, so I didn't know what could be going on in that conniving mind of hers.
I turned to her and forced a smile. My voice was insulin-spiking sweet when I said, "No, did you call? I've been so busy today."
"Oh." She mimicked my sweet tone. "There was a fire in the bakery department. The fire alarm went off and the sprinklers turned on. There isn't much fire damage outside of the bakery area, but the merchandise is ruined because of the water."
"Goodness! I hope no one was injured." I'm certain that my eyes were conveying just how apathetic I felt towards the place.
Ina smiled with false happiness. "Everyone got out safely! But I left a message that you didn't have to come to the store, since well, there isn't much to do."
As much as I cursed this store to the deepest reaches of Hell, I felt like my foundation had fallen away from me. Now that I had a full house, the income from this hellhole was going to put me ahead in my bills. I wanted to finish paying off that medical bill as soon as possible. Now things were going to be tight once again. "How long do they think the store will be closed?"
She shook her head as if she sympathized. "Not sure exactly, but I've heard it might take months for them to fix the bakery."
"Like two months or six months? What about the employees?" I fought my rising panic. Ina shrugged while her friend looked at me with the same detached stare. I scanned the crowd, searching for the store manager. "I'll ask Andy."
I found Andy the manager talking to a fireman. Andy waved his arms frantically, and his voice was hoarse. The fireman shifted his weight, a sour expression on his face, as he handed Andy a paper.
Andy snatched the paper and glared at the departing fireman. Andy gripped the sheet so tightly that his knuckles began to turn white. I could tell he wanted to rip it apart. He stared down at it as if he could incinerate it with his gaze.
"Hey, Andy."
When he lifted his gaze, there was no recognition there. After a few moments, he seemed to focus and he came storming in my direction. "Can you believe these bastards? They said we have to remain closed until they discover the cause of the fire. I told them it was a simple oven fire. Some damn idiot's fault, but they still have to investigate. We won't be able to evaluate inventory or even begin to clean until the insurance company gives the okay, and of course they need—"
"Need to know the results of the investigation first," I finished for him. His face was developing a deep purple color. Beads of sweat collected on his brow and his breathing was fast and shallow. "Andy, maybe you should take a seat." Grabbing his arm, I led him to the curb.
Plopping down, he swiped at his brow. His eyes were bulging from their sockets. "They're going to say that I did it. They are going to blame me; I just know it! Those bastards," he fumed as he began to untie his tie.
"I'll get a paramedic." I waved at one of the men standing near the store entrance. Andy grabbed my arm and pulled me down to his level.
He snarled, "Don't you dare bring any more of those bastards near me, Mercy. You hear me? I just need a moment to breathe."
I looked down at him as he pinned me with his stare. I threw my hands up in concession and I stepped away.
"Andy? Are you okay?" Ina said, pushing past me. She stood between Andy and me. "Go get a paramedic," she ordered her friend. I listened as Andy began to babble, whining about how the corporate office was going to blame him.
As Ina took over, I backed away. "I guess when we reopen, you'll let us know?" I asked Andy. I didn't get a coherent answer as he began to break into uncontrollable sobs. I took that as my opportunity to exit this farce. Fuck you, Family Universe. Fuck me, but I need a paycheck.
***
"No work?" Red asked as I walked through the front door. I had hoped that she'd already left for the evening, but she came down the stairs as I entered the house.
"Nope." I wanted to rush past her and bolt to my bedroom, but she braced herself between me and my getaway route. This broad was hell-bent on being friendly with me. Friends were dangerous. They expected conversation and hanging out. I didn't know if I could handle all of that. "What is it, Carol?"
She stood before me in a pink silk robe. Her red hair was pulled into a bun on top of her head. She crossed her arms and said, "So you don't have plans tonight?"
"Nope." I waited for her to make her point. Either gloat about catching me in a lie or get the fuck out of my way.
"You should come with me," she said with a shit-eating grin. "I have the perfect outfit for you."
I looked down her body then back at her face. She smiled like an innocent angel. I shook my head as I placed my keys on the key hook. "No, Red, I'm not in the mood tonight. I just want a glass of wine then I'll curl up with a book. There was a fire at work. That's why I'm home."
&n
bsp; Her eyes widened. "Are you okay? Was anyone injured?" she asked, leaning against the railing.
I shook my head.
"Was the store destroyed?"
"Nope. At least, it didn't look like it from outside. It's closed until they conduct an investigation. I'm not sure how long that may take, perhaps a few months. Damn it. I hope that I qualify for unemployment."
She stood beside me and looped her arm through mine. I tried to pull away, but she held on. She practically dragged me up the stairs. "Mercy, I really think you should come out with me tonight. If you don't have a good time, then you will never have to go out with me again. If you have a good time, then you'll have something to do until the store opens again."
I couldn't imagine what she meant by that. Was she expecting us to become best friends? It was an odd choice of words, and I nearly bolted to my room. But if I was honest, I was curious to know what she was up to. I allowed her to lead me into her bedroom. I sat down on her bed as she walked into her closet and began looking through her clothing. She pulled out a dress and tossed it onto the bed. She pulled out another and another. I sat there watching her create a pile.
I flipped over the tag on one dress and tossed it aside once I read the outrageous price. Four hundred bucks. All of the dresses were of good quality. I looked at Red questioningly.
Her gaze flickered over me, and she smiled with amusement. She had begun to search through her shoes when she turned and asked, "What size shoes do you wear, Mercy?"
"Eight," I said as I watched her pull out a couple of shoes. She glanced at the bottoms and then placed them back in the closet.
"Do you have any sexy stilettos?" she asked.
"Nope." All my shoes had a functional purpose, intended to be more comfortable than sexy.
Red turned towards me and placed her fists on her hips. Her lips puckered, and her eyes narrowed. "The next time you say 'nope,' I swear that I'll smack you but good."
My eyes widened. I wasn't sure if she was joking. She grinned at me before she picked up a pair of shiny, black stilettos. "I think these might fit you," she said as she dropped them on the floor before me.
She grabbed my hands and tugged me from the bed. Wrapping her hands around my shoulders, she settled me in front of a large mirror attached to the closet door. She slid her hands down my arms then grabbed at my uniform. Pulling the sides of my shirt back, she highlighted the shape of my body. I wiggled when her hands roamed over my waist and up to my breasts. "What the hell, Carol!" I yelped, slapping her hands away.
"Relax. Trust me." Resting her hands on my shoulders, she forced me to face the mirror. "Do you have a good push-up bra?"
"I might," I said as I stepped away from her. Her hand shot out and fisted in my hair, pulling it from its tidy bun. My hair fell down around my shoulders.
I tried to nudge her away with my elbow, but she was persistent. "Are you done toying with me?" I didn't know why I stood there, that patient, for so long. Maybe I was fascinated with the plan that she had in mind. Then there were the dresses piled on her bed. I was curious to know how they'd look, and I wanted to feel them against my skin. I had stopped wearing dresses a long time ago. Wearing dresses to me meant wanting to be seen.
"Can I try on that red one?" I asked.
"You can try them all on if you promise to go with me tonight," Carol said as she began to pile my hair on top of my head. She combed it out with her fingers. She twisted and tugged at my hair, as if deciding what the best style was for my face. "I like your hair. It's a lovely, golden brown color. Soft and wavy," she said as she continued to comb out my hair. She placed her hands on my shoulders and turned me towards the mirror again.
"You are a very beautiful woman, Mercy. You're aging well; I bet it's that Black blood. Wait, don't turn around," she said as I tensed in her arms. "I didn't mean that as an insult. I just notice that most Black women seem to age very well. Minimal lines, their skin seems so plump and hydrated. I'm jealous of that," she confided.
She grasped my chin and leaned over my shoulder so our heads were side by side. "You have lovely, almond-shaped eyes. Good skin and a nice figure. You'll do good, doll," she said with a mysterious smile. She pulled away and moved to the bed. Folding the edges of the dresses back, she sorted through them until she settled on a black one.
"Here, put this on," she said, tossing the dress at me. I had turned to walk up to my room when I heard her say, "Wait, change in the closet. You don't want to be rushing up and down the stairs." She ushered me into the closet.
I yanked my Family Universe polo shirt over my head, threw it on the floor and stomped on it several times. Then I wiggled out of my khaki pants and tossed them aside. I stepped into the black dress and tugged it up my body.
Twisting the handle, I opened the door and practically fell out of the closet. Red had been sitting on the bed; my ungraceful entrance startled her into leaping from the bed. "That doesn't look bad on you," she said as she circled me.
She tugged at the waistline and adjusted the shoulders. Her hands cupped my breasts again and I glowered at her. She didn't acknowledge me as she pushed my breasts up. The dress was a faux-wrap style with a plunging neckline. The skirt was a bit tight around my ass and hips but, overall, it didn't look bad.
Red's hands fell away, causing my breasts to flop back into place. How fucking depressing was that? She grabbed a black-and-gold leopard-print dress and lifted it towards the light. It was sheer. I looked at it in disgust.
She ran her fingers along the thin fabric as she eyed me up and down. Poking her hand up the sleeve to check its sheerness, she stared at me for a moment. Coughing back a laugh, she tossed the dress aside and said, "We'll work our way up to this." As she clucked her tongue, she began sorting through the dresses until her hands stopped on a dark purple one.
I would never have admitted it to Red, but it was kinda fun. I took the dress and dashed back into the closet. Tossing off the black outfit, I stepped into the purple sheath-style dress. I couldn't reach the zipper in the back, so I left it unzipped as I stepped out of the closet.
"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. I don't think that's your color," Red said, zipping me up. Her hands brushed my back before she walked around to stand in front of me. Turning to face the mirror, my mood soured. The beautiful shade was far too vivid for my washed-out appearance.
I smiled sadly as I acknowledged the truth. "Yeah, you're right. I look old and tired in this dress." It pissed me off that I was too old to wear anything this beautiful.
Red must have noticed the disappointment in my eyes. "Don't worry. We'll get some skin brighteners. A few peels and you'll be good to go in this dress. I promise."
"Skin brighteners? As in skin lightening?" People already mistook me for White. I wasn't interested in lightening any color that I did have.
"No, it's just something that will even out your skin. Fade the spots and diminish the circles around your eyes. It shouldn't lighten you," she said as her fingers grazed my skin. I think the words "too much" were left off the end of her sentence.
"Okay, enough. Gimme the red dress." I snapped my fingers towards the dress pile.
Red lifted the red dress from the bed and handed it to me. I caressed the soft fabric for a moment before I rushed into the closet to try it on. I offered a silent prayer that this dress would be a better fit. I didn't think I could handle a second disappointment.
It had been months, no, years since I had felt the need to dress nicely. When it was Moses and me, I wore pretty dresses, curled my hair, and used makeup on a regular basis. After he died, the desire to be pretty, to be noticed, to be wanted, died with him. I couldn't have my husband, but maybe this was one thing I could resurrect?
My mood brightened as I imagined myself decked out in the dress. I stepped out of the closet and turned towards Red. Approval flared in her eyes as she beamed at me. I didn't know why I felt confident and comfortable in the dress. I twirled around, enjoying the swirling motion around my legs.
&n
bsp; A fifty-eight year old Cinderella. Was it too much to hope that I might meet a handsome prince? I was being foolish. There weren't second chances for pathetic wenches like me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
An hour and a half later, I was spinning around, looking at myself in the mirror. I twisted and turned, trying to catch any angles that highlighted my flaws. Even to my picky standards, I looked stunning.
Red had done a great job of altering the hem and waistline so the fabric hugged my curves. It was a one-shouldered sheath dress with a lace embellishment covering my décolletage. I found a push-up bra I was able to squeeze into. I had outgrown it ages ago, but Red convinced me it would work in my favor. She was right. The tightness pushed my breasts up even further. With a flourish, Red had tied a scarf around my waist, giving me an hourglass shape.
Because I hadn't shaved my legs in years, I wanted to wear nude pantyhose to cover the stubble. Red rubbed my shins, glared at me, and then ordered me to get rid of it. As encouragement, she gave me a moisturizing lotion with a bronzing effect. It gave my skin a youthful glow, peeling away years of neglect and apathy.
We curled my hair into a vintage Veronica Lake style, and Red applied cosmetics to my face, adding a bold red to my lips and black liner around my eyes. She was an expert at the smoky-eye effect, causing the green flecks in my hazel eyes to pop.
The fitted dress fell just below my knees. My calves looked long and shapely, ending with my feet in red, peep-toe shoes that Red loaned me. I was past due for a pedicure. There was no time to get one, so I threw on some black nail polish and prayed no one looked at my feet.
"Mercy! The driver just pulled up. Are you ready?" Red called from outside my door.
I pulled a black shawl from my closet and slowly walked down the stairs. I opened the door to find Red, with her beautiful red hair pulled into a braided chignon, lounging against the door frame. Her gold, sequined dress fell just below her knees.
Have Mercy Page 8
