by Pat Simmons
"Why am I not surprised? Be right back." She walked out and returned, flipping through a ledger. She scribbled a note, then glanced at his screen.
"Lilly, please pick an arrangement you think Lisa would like. There's no need for recordkeeping. I'm the accountant, remember?"
"Yeah, you are, but it's my tally sheet of your girlfriends: Sasha, Carmen, Hali, Regina, Rene, Kim, Ava, and now Lisa."
He frowned and sat straighter in his chair. "You're keeping tabs?" he asked incredulously. "Why would you do that?"
She shrugged without answering. Lilly gave him a pointed look that dared him to ask again because she was ready to unload a mouthful of something he would probably rather not hear.
Malcolm stretched to peek, but Lilly rested the ledger against her chest, then folded her arms. "What exactly are you noting?"
"Not much. Appearances, personalities, sincerity, mannerisms, positive influence, motherhood, loyalties..."
He loosened his tie. "Evidently, I'm not giving you enough work to do. Anyway, all these flowers look too small for the price. What do you think about this celebration bouquet?" Silently, Malcolm counted the names in his head. He hadn't realized he’d dated most of those women after Hallison. Well, Lilly might as well throw away her notepad because the buck was stopping at Lisa.
She squinted. "A hundred and fifty-something dollars?" Her eyes bulged.
"Yep." He put his arms behind his head, pleased.
"Okay, but you could get those cheaper at the grocery store." She shrugged, scribbling on her pad.
"Yeah, and that would be unacceptable to Lisa."
"Right, Lisa," Lilly said and turned to leave.
Malcolm disengaged his arms and leaned on his desk. "What did you just write down?"
She gnawed on the end of her pen, thinking. "You told me to order flowers," she said in a scolding tone. "I jotted down the floral selection item number and price. You're spending a lot of money on this one, Malcolm." Puckering her lips, Lilly began to whistle as she headed to the door.
"Ah, out of curiosity, who's leading the list?" Malcolm twirled his pen as if he didn't care.
"You don't want to know."
"Humor me."
"Nah, it's a silly game I play."
"Lilly, tell me," he said, more forcefully.
"Hali." She paused. "Three to one."
Malcolm scowled. He shouldn't have asked.
Lilly buzzed his intercom. "I've placed order TF115-1. Do you want pick up or delivery?"
"Pickup."
She relayed the information and disconnected the call. "The deed is done," she told Malcolm, using the intercom.
Malcolm nodded to himself and reached for a file to begin his day.
"It doesn't have to be Secretary's Day to bring your dutiful, efficient assistant flowers," Lilly yelled from her desk.
Chapter Eighteen
“He's bringing a single red rose. Isn't that outdated?" Hallison asked Paula absentmindedly while reviewing the bank's monthly report on productivity against the payroll. "Today's not a good day. I've got three deadlines to meet. What happened to going to dinner, a movie, or a play? If your idea of meeting Emmanuel for the first time in the building is romantic, then please keep your dating tips to yourself."
Paula laughed. "At least it's a public place. Emmanuel understands my nervousness. Plus with all the talk of bank and company bailouts, I need to go over the credit department's assets and mortgage reports."
"I'm not the only one under pressure. If I can't make it, you know Ursula wouldn't have a problem with a ringside seat to being in your business."
They disconnected as a light knock at Hallison's door preceded Ursula's entrance. Today, she strutted in wearing spiked hair. The wig's color was a toss-up between soft gray or dull blond. She could easily pass as a younger version of actress Sharon Stone. "Guess what?"
"Speak of the devil," Hallison mumbled, dropping a pen on her desk to rub her temples. "I don't have time to guess. If you don't have your report, you and your staff can prepare to work throughout the night."
Ursula twisted her lips and waved one hand. "Girl, pleez. What do you think this is? I brought it down myself. Here." She placed it on Hallison's desk and took a seat. Ursula crossed her legs, folded her hands and smiled. The red two-piece pantsuit complemented her current hairpiece. Hallison wondered if she would recognize Ursula's natural hair if it ever made an appearance.
"Thank you." Hallison tapped on her computer keys to hint she was busy, but Ursula didn't budge. Sighing, she stared at Ursula, waiting. "What?"
"I told you to guess." Her smile grew wider and her eyes brighter.
"You're divorced?"
"Humph, I wish." Ursula twisted her lips, then grinned. "No, you'll never guess."
"Then I won't try." Impatient, Hallison lifted a brow.
"I'm black."
"Umm-hmm. You look the same color as you did on Friday." She didn't need this distraction. She returned to her computer screen. "Ursula, how about we talk about your immigration status in about two hours? Barry Grossman, my boss, the vice president of the bank—you know the one whose signature is stamped on our checks?—wants my figures by five. Now you guess what. He'll get them on time."
Ursula stood with her shoulders slumped. "Okay, do you have time for lunch later?"
"If I do, I'm meeting Paula in the cafe."
"And you guys didn't tell me? I hope Samuel isn't joining us again. That man has a crush on you." Ursula shook her head.
Hallison had invited Samuel to lunch with her friends one time. He invited himself the other. "That man is a homosexual who is qualified to do his job. Don't harass him, because you'll be dismissed. I'd hate to have to sign your termination papers."
"All right, I'll keep my thoughts to myself, but I'm telling you if that man were straight, I'd leave Anthony."
"Close the door behind you." Hallison had to agree with Ursula. If Samuel was a delivered soul... she didn't finish the thought. Hallison had too much work to daydream.
Hallison really didn't have time to take a break, but she was a bit curious to see a man who could look through a crowd and pick out one woman. With one major task completed, she reached for another report that could determine if a department needed to be downsized due to a decline in check processing.
Glancing at her watch, Hallison realized she had lost track of time. It took her three attempts to save her document and log off her computer. She stood and fingered through her curls, adjusted her dress over her hips, then slipped back into her shoes. Hallison opened her drawer and took out her purse. She caught her reflection in the mirror as she walked to the door. Lime green would always be her favorite color.
Ursula had beaten Hallison to Paula. Both were seated at a table near the window. Paula was holding her compact, scrutinizing her makeup. Her white two-piece outfit complemented Paula's glowing brown skin. Her freshly styled short hair and golden highlights added to her stunning looks.
"How can we be girlfriends when you and Paula leave me out of the loop like this?" was the first thing out Ursula's mouth as Hallison sat with them. "I'm curious to see how this is going to play out with Emmett." Ursula checked her watch, then stuffed lettuce into her mouth. "I hope he's on time. I've got to get back upstairs."
Paula lifted her hand. "Don't correct her, Hali. I don't think Ursula can remember Anthony's name half the time, either." She turned to Ursula. "Emmanuel will be on time, and then you can leave." Paula smiled sweetly.
Laughing, Hallison laid her purse down and stood. She strolled to the food counter and ordered a cup of soup and a deli sandwich. When Hallison returned to the table with her tray, Ursula had made a dent in her salad, and Paula was sipping on a can of 7-Up.
"Paula, aren't you going to eat?" Hallison asked after blessing her own food.
"I can't." She fanned her face. "I'm a nervous wreck. That's all I need is to get sauce on my clothes, eat something with garlic on it, or smear lipstick on my teeth."
> "Good point. Although Malcolm and I had already met at the job fair, I was nervous on our first official date, too."
Ursula slapped the table. "Oh, we're back to Malcolm again? What's the man's number? I'll call him for you. Anyway, don't you want to hear about why I may be no longer white?"
Whispering, Paula leaned toward Ursula, "What is wrong with you? Our company does have a policy for random drug testing."
"Nonsense. Hallison had me curious when I caught her in the act of digging up dead people. My grandmother left behind some old—and I mean old—pictures and papers." She looked around to make sure no one was listening before confessing, "My family owned fifty slaves." She faced Hallison. "See, I apologized."
"What?" Paula turned to Hallison.
Shaking her head, Hallison sighed. "Ursula's America's African History 101. Her people could've enslaved my people. Who knows?"
Ursula waved her hand. "You don't have to be so dramatic. I wouldn't phrase it like that. I'm sure it was purely for economic reasons. From what I read online, Blacks were traded and sold as currency. Many South Carolinian freed Blacks owned slaves."
"I wouldn't say that too loudly. The term is just as bad as saying the 'n' word in my book," Paula warned.
"Don't let Ursula be a party pooper," Hallison advised. "Remember, you're about to meet your Black knight. Anyway, Malcolm taught me that regardless of our ancestry, we can change for the future. That's what President Obama said."
"Amen," Paula agreed.
"Enough of the church service, ladies. What does Emmett look like?"
"Emmanuel is tall, dark, and handsome. He'll be carrying a red rose." Paula smiled and her eyes sparkled.
"Well, I wouldn't miss this for the world, especially since Anthony and I are getting a divorce."
Paula lifted her brow. "Again? What is he guilty of this week?"
"He's developing a severe case of bad breath. I think he has a gum disease."
Hallison and Paula laughed until their sides hurt. Paula was wiping away a lone tear when she looked up and stared. "Oh, my God. That's him. That's Emmanuel."
"Where?" Ursula whipped her neck around toward the door and swallowed. "Humph."
"Ditto," Hallison repeated, breathless.
"If he's a Black man, I'm definitely getting a divorce," Ursula said with awe.
"Forget it," Paula and Hallison snapped in unison.
"Humph, I'm going to get me a DNA test and see exactly how much Black I've got," Ursula said.
"If the world is lucky, hopefully zero percent," Paula mumbled.
Sure enough, two eye-stopping men walked through the maze of tables. A white guy searched the faces. He discarded one after the other as he twirled a stem between his large, fair hands. No doubt he was on a mission. A Black guy, without a flower, trailed him.
Paula said, without taking her eyes off the pair, "He can't be Emmanuel. I don't think he's White. I mean, he didn't sound White."
"Disappointed?" Hallison asked, rubbing Paula's hand. She tried to calm her own racing heart. This was one reason she didn't like blind dates, because there were too many surprises.
"Why would I be disappointed with anything or anyone God sends me?" Paula cleared her throat.
"Here we go again with God speaking and sending. He's not concerned about your love life. Look at what He hasn't done with mine, for example." Ursula didn't take her eyes off the two men while missing her mouth with a forkful of lettuce. "What's up with the bodyguard? You should've asked for a background check."
The man dressed in the state patrol uniform was easily six-one, but not as tall as the White man he escorted. Both were buffed, but the White one could fit the profile Paula described to Hallison. The trooper showcased dreadlocks and had skin the color of mink. He walked with precision, as if he owned the world. The other strutted as if he were the co-owner. The women held their breaths as the men stopped in front of them.
"Ladies." The White man's rich voice spilled from his lips as he eyed Hallison, then Ursula. He finally zeroed in on Paula. "I'm Emmanuel." He paused, leaning closer. "Hi, baby." He reached for her hand, turned it up, and placed the flower in it. "God bless you abundantly."
Ursula almost slid out her chair. Hallison wanted to check that her deodorant could handle the hot flash that was about to slap her. Paula forgot to exhale.
"I would like for you to meet my baby brother, Trooper Derrick Washington."
The trooper nodded with a smirk. "I haven't been his baby brother since I was five, and please call me Trey."
Claiming a nearby chair, Emmanuel dragged it next to Paula and left Trey standing. With the same finesse, Trey stole a chair and straddled it as he joined the group. Folding his arms, he shrugged nonchalantly.
Emmanuel chuckled, tilting his head. "I knew I wouldn't be able to shake him. Trey wanted to see the woman I've been raving about so he came—uninvited, I might add. He always did tag along when we were younger, too."
Trey didn't respond. His eyes seemed to sparkle as he focused on Hallison. The scrutiny made her uncomfortable. Hallison was curious how Emmanuel, who looked every ounce of Caucasian, was related to the dread-wearing trooper who could possibly be a descendant of an African slave.
Ursula's cell phone rang. She snatched it off her waist and read the number, twisting her lips. "Man, Anthony always calls at the wrong time. Excuse me," she said, contrite, standing and marching away.
Amused, Hallison would've made eye contact with Paula, but her friend was completely smitten with Emmanuel. She frowned, suddenly self-conscious of her appearance as she sensed Trey's stare. "I'm sorry, do I remind you of someone, or should I be concerned with something unflattering stuck on my face?"
"I'm always looking. You never know what God wants you to see," he answered matter-of-factly.
Chapter Nineteen
Malcolm was strolling through the doors of Gertie's Garden when Lisa was walking out of her office. She froze, but he continued his trek until he towered over her.
"What are you doing here?" Lisa hissed.
"I came to pick up an order. After all, my family and I believe in supporting Black businesses."
"Well, I hope it is to your liking. If not, we'll be more than happy to give you a full refund."
"You be the judge." Malcolm walked to the sales counter. He gave the fake name he told Lilly to use. Minutes later, one of Lisa's clerks handed Malcolm his order.
"You ordered the Celebration?" she murmured, shaking her head in disbelief. "You're kiddin'. I thought a secret shopper ordered the TF 115-1 to see if our handiwork would pass Teleflora's quality control."
"You passed." He lowered his husky voice and presented her with the bouquet as if she had won the crown at a beauty pageant. "Have dinner with me, Lisa."
She hesitated before nodding. Malcolm grinned, then wrapped her in his arms and delivered a lustful kiss. They agreed on a time. Turning around, Malcolm swaggered out the door, whistling as he headed home.
An hour later, Malcolm was trimming his beard when his phone rang again. He chuckled because Lisa had already called twice before he stepped in the shower. "Talk to me," he answered.
"Are you coming tonight?"
Malcolm's jaw dropped in irritation. "No, Parke."
He sighed. "Okay, since you'll be a no-show, how about planning a double date so Cheney and I can really get to know this Lisa?"
Parke was always the peacemaker. Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called the children of God. Where did that come from? Malcolm wondered. "That's cool. I'll get back to you."
"Love you, man. We're brothers, remember that."
Malcolm frowned at Parke's cryptic statement. "Yeah." They disconnected. He refused to let any guilt eat at him. Not long after that, Malcolm was at Lisa's condo. She opened the door dressed in a hot little number. "You're trying to kill me."
Lisa stood on her toes and smacked a kiss on his lips. "Silly, I need you alive."
On the drive to Jazz at the Bistro, Ma
lcolm tried to keep his eyes on the road and off Lisa's legs. They weren't as shapely as Hallison's, but second best was a good runner-up. After parking, they linked hands and strolled inside the club.
Once they ordered, Lisa reached across the table and grasped his hands.
"Malcolm, I want to make this work."
He lifted his finger to her lips. "Let me do the talking. I owe you an apology." She opened her mouth to interrupt, but Malcolm shook his head. "I was a fool to ruin the wonderful day you'd planned. By the way, I've put a check in the mail to cover all the expenses for the trip. I figured you wouldn't accept it if I put the money in your hand." He leaned in closer. "Don't return it, Lisa. How about I plan the next getaway? Let me woo you, beginning tonight. I do have a confession. I suffer from insect phobia. Bed bugs do bite."
"I can help you overcome it."
Malcolm wiggled his brows. "Hmm. Work your magic."
"I intend to."
They joked, laughed, and swayed in their seats to the music until their food arrived. Throughout their meal, Malcolm teased; Lisa taunted. He teased, she taunted. They were practically drunk with lust as they swallowed the last drop of wine from their glasses.
"You ready to go?" he asked and he motioned to the waiter for the check.
"Of course, and I almost forget to tell you, I received my financial audit letter today."
"Oh? And?" he said, relieved that hindrance between them was at least over. As the band began another tune, Malcolm relaxed.
"Your company says it can't certify that I have enough capital for an expansion. I was depending on that letter for a new loan."
"Hmm." Malcolm incorrectly judged Lisa. She wasn't as astute with her money as he thought. Now that the audit was complete, maybe he could take a look at her books and offer her some financial planning advice. "You probably need to monitor your cash flow and—"
Lisa's smiling eyes turned furious. "Malcolm, do you hear what you're saying? You're talking about my livelihood. Can't you talk to them?"
"I removed myself from the case to be with you, remember? Winfield & Young reviews and signs off on every project before a report is written. We carefully consider every variable that could hinder a business down the line. I'm sure our letter outlined their findings."
