Passin'

by Karen E. Quinones Miller

  Rachel called her early the next morning. “Mother told me what happened. I apologize.”

  “No need to, your mother was right. I was out of line,” Nikkie said sullenly.

  “Well, yes,” Rachel said, pausing, “but I don’t think she should have asked you to leave. She’s just very sensitive, you know.”

  “So let me ask you something,” Nikkie said, suddenly and inexplicably angry. “You’re going to tell me that you never use that word? I’ve heard you use it myself, you know.”

  “Oh no, you haven’t. Granted, you’ve heard Cindy use the word, and I didn’t tell her she was wrong to do so, but even Cindy certainly wouldn’t have used it in that kind of social setting,” Rachel said in an annoyed tone.

  “I didn’t realize that there was a time and a place to call people ‘niggers.’ ” Nikkie exploded. “And let me tell you something else—”

  “Oh, Nikkie, I didn’t call to argue. Perhaps I should ring you back in a few days?”

  The exasperation in Rachel’s voice only fueled Nikkie’s anger. “Who said anything about arguing? I’m not arguing, Rachel! I’m just saying—” But before she could say anything else, the line went dead. Nikkie stared at the phone a moment, then slammed it down on the receiver. She reached over to the nightstand and picked up her emery board.

  There were things in her life she’d felt guilty about, ashamed about even. Everyone had those things in their life. But for the first time she was actually ashamed of herself. Or was it of the persona that she had taken on? Or was there a difference? She wasn’t sure anymore. She did know one thing; she was losing it. In fact, she might have already lost.

  She picked the telephone back up.

  “Mama? It’s me, Nikkie.”

  “Baby! What are you doing up so early on a Sunday morning? Finally found a church up there you like?”

  “No, I’m still looking.” Nikkie felt a swift pang of guilt. She’d been raised in the church and had promised her mother she’d join one as soon as she got to New York, but she’d never seemed to get around to it.

  “Well, I thought about not going myself, today. My old bones are acting up,” Rina said in a distracted voice. “I don’t know if I have arthritis or rheumatism. Don’t matter. My bones be aching sometimes. But bones or no bones, I’m gonna go worship the Lord. It’s good to hear your voice, sweetie. You okay? How’s the city treating you? You doing okay on that job of yours?”

  Nikkie smiled. “I’m doing fine, Mama. And the job is going good. I’m just a little homesick is all.”

  “Well, now why don’t you just come on home for a little bit? Take a long weekend and spend some time with your mama. You know I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too, Mama. And, God, I miss your cooking. I haven’t had a good meal since I’ve been up here.”

  “Um-mm-mm. Well, I guess it would be mean for me to tell you that I’ve got Sunday dinner all cooked up and ready to eat later this evening. I cooked up some greens, potato salad, ribs, and peach cobbler.”

  Nikkie groaned. “Oh, Mama, why you gonna go and tell me all that when I just told you I haven’t had a good meal in months!”

  Rina chuckled. “Just being mean, I guess.”

  “Why you doing all that cooking, anyway? Joseph and Ayoka coming over after church?”

  “Yes. They’re doing fine, child. Joseph sold a big apartment building downtown and got a big commission. Took me out to dinner to celebrate.”

  “That’s good. You know I’ve called him a few times, but he never has time to talk to me but a few minutes.”

  Rina paused. “Well, you know how your brother is. He’s still stewing, but he’ll be okay.”

  “Well, I wish he would hurry up.”

  “He will, baby, he will. Just give him some time.”

  Nikkie nodded as if her mother could see her. “Okay, Mama, I’m going to go. I just wanted to call and see if you were doing okay. Oh, and how’s Papa?”

  “Why don’t you ask him yourself? He’s right in the other room.”

  “No, Mama. That’s okay. Just tell him I asked about him. You go ahead and go to church. I’ll try and give you a call sometime later this week.”

  “Okay, baby, but when are you going to come home again?”

  “Soon, Mama, I promise.”

  “You’ve been saying that for the last few months,” Rina said in an accusing tone.

  “Well, I mean it this time. Okay, Mama. I love you. Talk to you again, soon.”

  “Nikkie, wait!”

  “Yes, Mama?”

  “Nikkie. You sure everything’s okay? You sure? You don’t sound right. You sure everything going okay at the job? They treating you right over there?”

  Nikkie gripped the telephone tightly. She wanted to tell her mother everything, like she did when she was a little girl. She wanted to tell her that she was making one mistake after another, and the mistakes were getting bigger and bigger. She wanted to tell her that she was tired of living a lie, and was worried that the lie was becoming her truth; that she wanted to stop, but didn’t know how.

  “Mama, really. Everything’s fine. I’ll call you later this week.”

  Rina sighed into the receiver. “Nikkie, I know you’re going to get upset with me for bringing this up again, but you know no good ever came of someone living a lie. Child, the sooner you come clean and own up to who you are and where you come from, the sooner you’ll be able to rest easy.” Rina’s voice now took on a more urgent tone. “Baby, you promised you were only going to pass for a little while—only until you got the job. Well, you’ve been there for months now. I know what you said about moving up in the firm, but if you can’t move being who you are, maybe it’s not the type of company you should be in, anyway. I didn’t raise you to—”

  “Mama, please.” Nikkie pressed her fingertips to her temples, as if it would somehow relieve the pressure building up in her head.

  “Yes, ‘Mama, please.’ That’s all you say these days when I bring this up. Well, I’m gonna go ahead on to church, and I’ll pray for you like I always do. I’ma pray that you do the right thing. Bye, baby.”

  Nikkie hung up the telephone and cried herself back to sleep.

  Chapter Fifteen

  August 2007

  The company skybox? Get out of here! Kadinsky’s going to let you use the company skybox?”

  “Yeah, they let account executives use it when they’re wining and dining clients or as a bonus when one of us lands a big account. I got it for stealing the Rosenfeld account from the Richardson Grecher Agency. It’s a three-million-a-year account, you know.”

  “Yes, Hal, I know.” Nikkie smiled. “You only mentioned it twenty times this week.”

  “Oh, okay. Wasn’t sure you knew,” Hal said with a grin.

  In the month that she and Hal had been dating, she’d become used to his boasting. But then again, if she had as much success as he did, she’d probably be boasting, too, although she soon realized he used his arrogance to mask his self-doubts. It seemed ridiculous that someone as charming, handsome, and successful as Hal had any doubts about himself at all, but somehow he did. He seldom compared his victories to those of others, but he always compared them to his last—as if he constantly had to prove to himself, not so much to others, that he wasn’t slipping.

  And the good thing about Hal was—and there were a lot of good things—that he celebrated her small victories as heartily as he celebrated his large ones. She’d been surprised when the company put her in charge of the Lucia Silver account instead of handing it off to a more seasoned rep—with her simply being an assistant—but she set out to prove to the company that they had made a good decision. And she’d been doing well. She’d been able to place six or seven newspaper items on the starlet, and even managed to snag her a cover of one of the local magazines. And Hal had been a major help, giving her access to some of his media sources, something that most of the PR reps guarded with their lives.

  In fact, Hal was wonderf
ul to deal with at work, and he was also the perfect boyfriend—or perfect almost boyfriend. Although they went out at least twice a week, and he called her every evening after work to make sure she got home safely, she still hadn’t been able to bring herself to go to bed with him. She liked him—really liked him—but the thought of going to bed with him was just, well, distasteful. And she had no illusions as to why; she just wasn’t physically attracted to white men. Oh, they looked great in magazines with their shirts off, but the thought of one taking his shirt off for her was simply a turnoff. Even the kissing wasn’t too bad, but when he tried to slip his hand under her blouse to fondle her breast, she always pulled back after a few moments. The touch of his hand freaked her out. It was too soft. Not soft as in feminine, but soft as in smooth—as a matter of fact, as smooth as hers. She wasn’t used to it, and didn’t like it. It wasn’t that her previous boyfriends’ skin had been necessarily rough, but they felt like skin, not like silk. She didn’t know how to overcome her revulsion, but she also knew she’d better figure out a way fast if she wanted to keep Hal interested in her.

  She felt guilty about leading him on, especially since it was so evident that he was into her big-time, and she knew she’d never be able to return his feelings. She’d been foolish and selfish to let things progress as far as they had. But he was good company, and she learned a lot just being around him. She learned things about public relations, but, more important, she learned more and more about how white people acted, and how to emulate those actions. Hal was good for her. She’d worry later about how to let him down easy. Thank God he was a Mormon and wasn’t pressing her about having sex, since his religious faith dictated sexual abstinence until marriage. It did irk him, though, that she insisted that they keep their relationship on the down low at work. There were some coworkers who might have figured out they were seeing each other during their off-hours, but not many. Often they would go out with their colleagues—with everyone hanging out and no one pairing off, so she was sure their friendship seemed innocent to most people.

  “Shanika!”

  Nikkie’s head jerked up, and she almost swung around to find out who was calling her by her given name when she remembered she was with Hal. She quickened her pace.

  “The box sits like thirty people, and it’s all catered.” Hal continued, unaware of Nikkie’s sudden feeling of impending doom. “The game doesn’t start until seven, so you’ll have time to go home and change if you want.”

  “Shanika! Shanika!”

  Whoever was calling was much closer, and Nikkie was about to suggest to Hal that they duck into a restaurant when

  the voice abruptly became a grasp on her arm.

  “Shanika! Girl, I thought that was you!”

  Nikkie suddenly found herself face-to-face with a short, coal-black-skinned, muscular man with long, curly hair. Her heart dove into the pit of her stomach. Cousin Booby.

  “You ain’t hear me calling you? What are you doing in New York, cuz?” he asked with a huge, pearly white grin.

  Nikkie tried to keep her voice calm. “I’m sorry. You must have me mistaken for someone else. My name’s Nicole.”

  Booby jerked his head back in surprise, then actually released her arm and stepped back as if to further appraise her. “What are you talking about, Nika?”

  “My name isn’t Shanika or Nika,” Nikkie said frantically. “It’s Nicole Jensen. And I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go.”

  “Nicole who? What are you talking about?” Booby’s face wrinkled into a scowl.

  Oh please, please, please, let his shell-shock thingee kick in now and think maybe he did make a mistake.

  For a moment she thought it had worked, but he suddenly grabbed her arm again, more roughly this time. “What the hell’s going on?” he demanded.

  “Excuse me,” Hal said politely but firmly, “but I believe my friend has indicated that you’re mistaken.”

  “Yeah, go ahead and excuse yourself, man,” Booby said as he tried to pull Nikkie away. “This is my cousin, and I think she and I need to have a conversation.”

  “Please let go of me!” Nikkie managed to free her arm.

  “I believe you’re disturbing the lady.” Hal stepped between them as people began to slow down to get a look at what was going on. “Why don’t you go on your way.”

  “Man, get the hell out of my face,” Booby said as he tried to sidestep Hal to get back at Nikkie.

  “Hal, come on.” Nikkie tugged at his arm. “We’re going to be late getting back to the office. Let’s just go.”

  “Nika, you ain’t going no damn where.” Booby grabbed her. “What the hell is wrong with you, girl?”

  “Let go of me,” Nikkie said through clenched teeth. Damn. What the hell was wrong with him? Not shell-shocked enough to be convinced it wasn’t her, but too shell-shocked to get the hint she wanted him to make believe they didn’t know each other?

  “You heard the lady. Let her go!” Hal pushed Booby in the chest.

  “What! Who the hell you pushing?” Booby released Nikkie and quickly stepped into a boxing stance. “I’ll knock your damn head off.”

  Hal’s lips turned up into a sneer. “I’m not going to stand out here and fight you like some kind of hoodlum.”

  “Then don’t be putting your damn hands on me.”

  “Is there a problem here?” a new voice rang out.

  Nikkie turned to see one of New York’s finest quickly striding toward them, his police car—lights flashing—pulled halfway up onto the sidewalk. The officer’s hand was on his holstered gun as he continued his approach. Things were spiraling out of control, and fast.

  “It’s nothing,” she said, quickly running up to the officer before he could reach Booby. “Just a case of mistaken—”

  “Officer, this man is harassing us,” Hal interrupted in his Master of the Universe voice. “He’s obviously drunk. He’s using profanity, grabbing my lady friend here, and threatening me with violence.”

  “Man, I ain’t do nothing but try and talk to my cousin,” Booby yelled. “And I ain’t lay a hand on him. He’s the one who pushed me, I ain’t touch him.”

  “Where’s your cousin?” the officer asked sternly.

  “Right there.” Booby pointed to Nikkie. “Tell ’em, Nika.”

  The officer’s eyes switched from Booby to Nikkie, then back to Booby as Hal guffawed. “Ma’am, is this man your cousin?”

  “No,” Nikkie said nervously, “but I’m sure he believes I am, and it’s really not a big deal.”

  “What do you mean, it’s not a big deal?” Booby stepped toward her, but was pushed back by Hal.

  “Man, didn’t I tell you not to put your hands on me again?” Booby pushed Hal back.

  “Hold on there!” the officer said, his voice as menacing as the nightstick he was waving in the air.

  “Please! Officer, I swear, everything’s okay.” Nikkie tried to jump in front of Booby, but was stopped by Hal.

  “Man, how you gonna act like you gonna beat up on me when you done saw this man push me and you ain’t do shit?” Booby demanded of the policeman.

  “Sir, I would advise you to back up, turn around, and put your hands on the patrol car,” the officer said in a breathless voice.

  “What the hell? I gotta assume the position all of a sudden? For what, man?” Booby walked toward the officer, his hands held out at his sides. “I was just defending myself.”

  “And I was just defending my girlfriend,” Hal retorted.

  Booby swung around to face him again. “Your what? You fucking white boy . . .”

  “Sir, I’m going to ask you again to put your hands on the car!”

  “. . . she ain’t your girlfriend,” Booby continued while walking toward Hal. “She’s my . . .” Booby stopped, as if it finally dawned on him what was going on.

  “Nika”—his eyes took on an accusing stare before narrowing into a squint as he reached out to grab her—“I know you ain’t . . .”

  Befor
e he could get another word out, the officer pulled his gun and pointed it at Booby’s head.

  “Oh, my God!” Nikkie screamed before falling into a dead faint.

  When she woke up again, she was on a gurney and being lifted up into an ambulance. She sat up, instantly alert. “What the hell is going on? Oh, my God, did they shoot him?”

  “Shh, it’s okay. Lie back down. They’re just going to take you to the hospital to check you out and make sure you’re okay,” Hal said soothingly. “Don’t worry, I’m going to ride along with you.”

  “Hal,” she said urgently, “did they hurt him?”

  “What? No. They just arrested him for disorderly conduct. But how are you?”

  “I’m fine.” Nikkie jumped off the gurney and into the street just in time to watch the last of the police cars speed off. She couldn’t see him, but she knew Booby was in the back of one of them. She grabbed Hal’s arm.

  “Where are they taking him?”

  Hal snorted. “Central booking, I guess. We have to go down later to press charges.”

  “No!”

  “What?” The surprised look on Hal’s face was almost funny.

  Nikkie’s mind raced. “Hal, look, neither of us was hurt—I probably just fainted because I hadn’t eaten anything all day— and so what harm was really done?”

  “What are you talking about?” Hal asked in a confused voice. “We’ve got to press charges. We can’t let some lunatic go around assaulting innocent people.”

  “He was confused, you couldn’t see that? And, anyway, if we press charges, the news media might find out, and how is that going to look for the firm?”

  “It’s going to look good. It’s going to look like we’re doing our civic duty,” Hal insisted.

  “Well”—Nikkie’s mind was racing—“maybe, maybe not. Remember, that officer pulled his gun and pointed it at that poor man. And if I’m not mistaken, I saw someone taking a picture with their cell phone.”