Wiser

by Lexie Ray

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Never be early for anything,” he said. “Not for meetings, not for deadlines, nothing.”

  I laughed. “I was nervous,” I explained. “I didn’t want to make a bad impression by being late.”

  “I’m glad you’re early,” he said, his smile doing things to my stomach that I was certain weren’t nerves. “Gives me a chance to show you around. You look very nice, by the way. Much better than the slobs I have to work with every day.”

  Dan was dressed in dark gray trousers and a blue button down shirt. He looked striking, but I expected one of the owners of a firm to be dressed in nothing but suits. I guessed I had a lot to learn.

  I followed Dan behind the partition and tried not to look like a tourist. There was a maze of low cubicles throughout the space beyond, allowing for greater communication among the designers and other workers, I could only imagine. Dan kept a running commentary as he showed me through the office. The latest technology glittered on every surface—computers with monitors bigger than I’d ever seen, stacks of books and design magazines in posh bookshelves that crept along the middle of the wall, and an assortment of odd employees.

  Dan and I were definitely the nicest dressed in the room that I could see. I suspected he hadn’t been joking when he’d called the other designers slobs. They slouched at their desks, at least one of them wearing torn jeans, and displayed all manner of knick knacks on every surface that wasn’t already occupied by computers or scanners or tablets. There were action figures, candy dishes, junk food wrappers, photos, boxes of crayons, balls of string, everything. It was barely controlled chaos.

  “Guys, this is Blue,” Dan said, stopping in front of one grouping of four cubicles. “She came up with the concepts for the Sugar and Spice case.”

  Curious heads swiveled around and up from behind those gigantic computer screens.

  “Howdy,” I said, trying not to show how nervous I was.

  “How’d you come up with that stuff?” asked one of the designers—a guy sporting a Batman shirt.

  I shrugged. “Dan pitched me the new products, and that’s what I thought of,” I said. “I don’t know how else to explain it.”

  This seemed to consternate everyone.

  “Where’d you go to school?” another asked—another guy with thick-rimmed glasses and a scruffy goatee.

  “Um, high school?” I asked lamely, knowing that wasn’t what he meant. “I didn’t get a chance to go to college. I was going to go, but something came up.”

  They seemed even more agitated at that answer.

  “What kind of name is Blue?” This question was from the only girl in the group, whose curly hair puffed out like a halo around her head.

  Dan cleared his throat, his brows drawing together, but I headed him off quickly.

  “It’s who I am—as well as who I’m going to be,” I said. “I left my slave name in Tennessee.”

  The designers laughed at that.

  “I always wanted to be called Thor,” admitted the one who hadn’t spoken up—a short, scrawny guy beset by pimples.

  “Jemima,” said the girl.

  “Master,” joked the guy with glasses.

  “Roscoe,” said the guy in the Batman shirt.

  “Thor, Jemima, Master, and Roscoe it is,” I said, shaking each hand enthusiastically.

  “Oh, great,” Dan groaned, rolling his eyes. “Don’t encourage them, Blue.”

  Everyone laughed again.

  “Blue, these are the designers who were trying to find a way to satisfy our Sugar and Spice client—the adult novelty store,” Dan said. “They’re working on refining your sketches right now. The client gets here at 10:30. You mind taking a look at what they’ve got and giving them some feedback?”

  I went around to each computer, checking out the work they’d done. The naked lady in the middle of being drawn by a crayon looked especially nice on the screen. Her outline even looked like it had been done in crayon, while the crayon looked as real as day.

  “I love that texture around the outline,” I said, pointing at the screen. “Gotta love technology. What if that crayon was one of the ones they were looking to market? You could slap one of the naughty names on the side, couldn’t you?”

  “Love it,” Thor said. “Love it.” His hands started flying over the keyboard and mouse, adding boxes and text to the picture until the crayon read “Nipple Pink.” For added measure, he continued the outline of the lady to her nipple, and positioned the point of the crayon right at the little bud.

  “Perfect!” I exclaimed. “That looks better than I could’ve imagined.”

  “We can execute anything in your imagination,” Dan said. “Sometimes, though, it’s the imagination that’s the most trouble.”

  I went around to each computer, offering suggestions and tweaks to what the designers had going. All of them were extremely enthusiastic and open to my thoughts. It was rewarding, even if I thought I didn’t deserve it. All I’d done was scribble some things on an order ticket at a nightclub.

  “You’ve got an untapped gold mine with Blue, Dan,” Jemima said.

  I laughed, shaking my head dismissively. “I think maybe you guys had just been staring at the case for too long,” I said. “All I had to offer were fresh eyes.”

  “You gonna hire her?” Thor asked.

  Dan grinned. “Maybe. She’s on a freelancer fee right now.”

  Master sucked in air. “Keep freelancing,” he said. “Otherwise Dan will put you on salary and work you to the bone.”

  “Do you work these poor people to the bone, Dan?” I asked in mock admonishment.

  “I’m a real slave driver, let me tell you,” he said, chuckling. “Maybe these guys would do better work if I were.”

  “Sugar and Spice is here, Dan,” the receptionist called from the front of the office.

  “Excellent,” he said. “I’ll meet everyone in the conference room—you too, Blue.”

  Feeling like I was part of the team, I joined the designers in the conference room. It was as sleek and hip as the rest of the office. They set up a slideshow on the console built into the glass table as I watched in astonishment.

  “There are so many things I want to learn,” I said, trying not to let my mouth hang open.

  “You’d make a hell of a designer,” Thor said bravely. “Who knows where you would’ve ended up if you went to school?”

  “Shut it,” Roscoe said. “She’s ours now, school or not.”

  The client meeting was fascinating. I took my sketchbook out and took notes, just like the other designers did, on everything that happened. Dan did the pitch, and I was gratified to see how excited the clients were.

  “This is exactly what we envisioned,” one of them, a man in a business suit with an acid green tie, said. “This is really inspired stuff.”

  Dan had never looked more pleased. When he turned that smile on to me, I melted. He made me feel so important and special with just a simple look.

  “I think we’re ready to move forward,” the female client said. She was wearing a low-cut blouse, showcasing what had to be plastic breasts. “Let’s talk format.”

  It was hard to keep up with all of the different options Dan presented them with, but I understood what brochures, business cards, and posters were. It was now a matter of deciding how to display the concepts I’d helped come up with.

  The meeting was over soon, everyone walking out with smiles on their faces. The designers went back to their desks, but Dan took me gently by the elbow, keeping me at his side.

  “Gotta hand it to you, Dan,” the man said. “We were kind of worried that we hadn’t hammered down an approach yet, but this really hits it out of the ballpark.”

  “How did you come up with this campaign?” the woman asked. “It’s so different from what you’d been pitching.”

  “Just had to bring in a fresh set of eyes to the project,” Dan said, looking down at me. “This is Blue, the freela
ncer behind the concepts.”

  Both clients shook my hand.

  “I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more from you,” the man said. “This is going to be huge.”

  “Thank you,” I said humbly. “I’m pretty excited.”

  The thrill of a meeting gone well was palpable. All of Dan’s designers on the Sugar and Spice case congratulated me, hugging me and shaking my hand.

  “Enough patting ourselves on the back,” Dan said, even though he couldn’t hide his own smile. “We have serious work to do.”

  He turned to me and I wondered what my role in all of this was going to be.

  “Would you do me the honor of joining me for lunch, Blue?” he asked. “I would consider it a privilege.”

  “You would not believe how hungry I am,” I admitted. I’d skipped breakfast at Mama’s nightclub, not wanting to risk getting sick on my big day.

  “Are you in the mood for something in particular?” Dan asked as we walked out of the office.

  My stomach growled thunderously, startling us both.

  “I am in the mood for anything and everything,” I said. “Guess I didn’t realize eating for two would be so hard.”

  We walked to the nearest eatery. Several dotted the area, which had to be convenient for people working in the surrounding buildings.

  “We have a cafeteria inside the building,” Dan explained as we were seated, “but I like this place a little more. Gets me away from the office, helps me come back refreshed.” He leaned forward, conspiratorially close. “Sometimes, I have a beer.”

  I laughed. “Well, don’t let me stop you,” I said. “I, of course, won’t be imbibing today.”

  “I’d rather have a water,” he said, raising the full glass in front of him. “To Blue, who saved our asses today with the client. I was starting to suspect they’d go with someone else, but your work was incredible.”

  I clinked glasses with him. “Your designers did all the work,” I protested. “All I had were ideas.”

  “You know what kind of people have ideas?” Dan asked. “Art directors. Editors. Curators. Artists. Ideas are just as important as execution, Blue, and execution is something you can learn. I know you can do it.”

  I flushed with pleasure, almost glad for the conversation to halt when a waiter came to take our order. Everything was going so well, but I wasn’t used to such high praise. Dan believed in me—that much was certain. But I wasn’t sure whether I believed in myself.

  Our orders placed, Dan folded his hands and looked at me seriously. “What can I do to convince you to become a graphic designer full time?” he asked. “You wouldn’t have to work at my firm right away, if you just wanted to get a taste of it. You can continue with the freelancing.”

  “Master said I should stick with the freelancing,” I said coyly. “Seemed to think there’d be more money in it.”

  “He was correct,” Dan said. “Plus, it’s a good way to try something out without committing to anything.”

  “I think that could be a good possibility for me,” I said. “And it’s away from the nightclub, which would be good for everyone involved.” I rested my hand on my growing belly just in case Dan wasn’t sure who I was talking about.

  “I can’t say it enough, Blue,” Dan said. “Everything happens for a reason, and this is all happening at the opportune time. Is there anything I can do to help with the transition?”

  “I’ll need to find an apartment,” I said. “Someplace a little closer to your firm, but someplace I can still afford.” I wouldn’t be able to live at Mama’s boarding house if I wasn’t going to be bartending at the nightclub.

  “That’s easy,” Dan said. “You can stay with me.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “You’re being too nice,” I said. “I have money saved up. I can afford to rent—especially with my fat freelancer fee.”

  “It’d really be no trouble,” Dan persisted. “I have an extra room in my condo, and it’s just a couple of blocks from the firm. I walk every day. Good exercise.”

  “I couldn’t ask you to open your home to me,” I said. “It wouldn’t be right—especially if you were my boss.”

  Dan wagged his finger at me. “You’re your own boss as a freelancer.”

  I started to wonder if that had been the reason Dan had pushed me to freelance before accepting a permanent position with the firm—so I could stay with him. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. Close to work, and it helped that I would be living with someone I genuinely liked. Dan was a great guy.

  “I’m only going to take up more and more space,” I warned, pointing at my belly. “And when I stop growing, I’m going to pop out a baby. Then you’ll have two roommates.”

  “That’s an inevitability I’ve accepted,” Dan said, smiling warmly. “I have to ask—is the father still in the picture?”

  My smile dropped a few notches. Jake again. It seemed like I couldn’t go a whole day without thinking of him. Since it was exactly half of his genetic material growing inside me, I guessed it was acceptable that I didn’t.

  “No,” I said. “I tried to contact him, but he’s indicated—through his silence—that he wants nothing to do with this.”

  Dan looked troubled. “I’m sorry about that,” he said. “If he were to get in contact with you, would you want him in the picture?”

  That was something that had been plaguing my thoughts. Every child deserved to have both parents around, but I just couldn’t make a decision about Jake. Did I want him to be a father to the unborn baby inside me? Yes. Did I want to be Jake again, even after he ignored me all this time?

  “The jury’s still out on that one,” I said, forcing myself to smile and then clapping my hands eagerly as our plates arrived. “I’m starving!”

  “Then starve no more,” Dan said, and we fell into lunch. I was relieved that we didn’t talk anymore about the father of my baby. Jake was just too painful of a subject right now. Instead, we chatted about the rent I insisted on paying Dan, which he set probably vastly lower than it should be, as well as the logistics of moving.

  “I don’t have any furniture, but that’s something I can buy,” I said.

  “No need to,” Dan said. “The room is furnished. Once you see it, you can decide if there’s anything you want to add or take out, and we can go from there.”

  “I can’t believe this is actually happening,” I exclaimed, my hands flying up to my cheeks. “I don’t think you understand, Dan. You’re giving me my future back.”

  He didn’t understand where I’d come from, or what I’d given up throughout my life, but he smiled and took my hand all the same.

  “You’re making your future, as we speak,” he said. “We just found each other at the right time.”

  I threw my arms around him in an impromptu hug and kissed his cheek. The day’s stubble tickled my lips in a pleasant way, and both of us flushed at my forwardness.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m just really excited.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Dan said. “I’m excited, too.”

  We parted ways and I took a cab back across town to the nightclub. As thrilled as I was with the new opportunity—and new life—I wasn’t looking forward to leaving all of my friends at the nightclub. I’d become their protector, keeping them away from Mama’s instability. What would they do without me?

  I gasped, making the cab driver look at me in the rearview mirror, and covered my mouth with my hand.

  This was exactly what had happened in Tennessee. I’d wanted to protect my brothers and sisters from my parents, so I hadn’t gone to college. I’d regretted that decision so thoroughly that it made me miserable.

  I had to choose my own path. I had to, for once in my life, put myself first. I had to leave Mama’s nightclub. Shimmy—or Pumpkin, perhaps—would take on Mama and her mercurial moods.

  Even as I made this decision, I knew that it wasn’t just for my benefit. I was thinking now for the baby inside
of me. My child wouldn’t be able to survive at Mama’s nightclub. Dan, on the other hand, was offering a stable home. This was what we needed.

  The nightclub was still quiet when I stepped in through the alley-side door. Girls remained cautious about coming downstairs to the kitchen. I missed the days when it had been a place to hang out and enjoy meals together.

  “Look at you!” Shimmy hooted as I opened the door to the hallway. “Where did you go that you had to look so pretty?” There were several girls milling around in the hallway, and they all turned to smile at me.

  “Job interview,” I said. “As a graphic designer.”

  Pumpkin poked her head out of her door. “A graphic designer?” she repeated. “I didn’t know you knew how to do that stuff!”

  “It’s more like a learning experience,” I explained. “The guy who hired me said that I could do training while on the job.”

  “Who hired you?” Shimmy asked. “So you got the job!”

  “I got the job!” I screamed, jumping up and down and not caring who knew how happy I was. All of the girls caught on, the enthusiasm infectious, and we all hopped around, hugging.

  “But will you still be working here?” Cream asked.

  I shook my head. “I’m going to pack up today and leave tonight,” I said. “It’s for the best. I don’t want to linger after telling Mama I’m not going to be working here anymore.”

  Cocoa had tried to linger to say goodbye to everyone, and that’s how Mama had nearly killed her.

  “How are you gonna tell Mama?” Shimmy asked. “You know how she gets.”

  “I know,” I said. “But it’s not like she can keep me here against my will, right?”

  The girls’ uncertain laughter told me that they weren’t sure, either.

  “Well, I guess there’s no point in putting it off,” I said. “If I don’t come upstairs in half an hour, don’t send anybody. Run.”

  It wasn’t the best thing to joke about, given Mama’s terrible temper and recent history, but I couldn’t help making light of it. It was all I could do to mask my own fear.