A Love of My Own (25 page)

24
__________________

I'd just closed my leather binder after a meeting with Davis and was getting ready to leave his office, when I heard him say calmly, “Oh, yeah, I need you to fire Zola
,”
as the white barber removed a black cape from Davis's neck.

I stared at him for a moment and then asked, “You want me to do what?”

“Fire Zola. Get the locks changed and have security escort her out of the building,” Davis said calmly. “Make it as embarrassing as you possibly can,” he added.

“What's going on? What did she do?”

“Nothing. Fire her.”

“Nothing?”

“Yeah, nothing. Get rid of her.”

“What's the reason? What am I supposed to tell her?”

“You don't need a reason,” Davis said without looking up from the papers on his desk. The barber was packing his equipment and didn't make eye contact with Davis or me.

“But, Davis, the magazine is doing great, even in a tough economy. Lots of magazines are hemorrhaging advertising and sales. I haven't seen that trend with
Bling Bling,
” I said.

“I don't give a damn. The bitch isn't doing what she was hired to do, run a magazine and, more important, give me pussy when I need it. I don't have time to go out and look for new pussy,” Davis said, looking at me calmly like I should understand his reasons.

“Doesn't she have an employment contract?”

“Yeah, she does. But I made sure it was to my advantage. We can give her some type of severance, but make sure you remind her of the noncompete clause. I don't want to see her starting a magazine or working at one for at least two years,” Davis said.

“She has a noncompete clause? Did she have a lawyer look over her contract before she signed it?”

“Yeah, but it was somebody I recommended,” Davis said proudly.

“Davis, this may be a problem,” I advised.

“It's your job to make sure it's not. I want her out by week's end.”

“Who's going to take her place?”

“I don't know. Call an executive search firm and find someone who can start right away. Have them check and see how much money we would need to offer Amy Barnett over at
Honey
magazine to come over here. I've been watching that magazine and I hear she's doing a great job over there,” Davis said.

I couldn't believe that, as smart and brilliant as Davis was, he was acting like he was whipped. Davis thought this was going to be simple, but from what I knew about Zola, simple was the last thing firing her was going to be.

“Are you sure about this, Davis? Is there any way you can work this out?”

“Raymond, you didn't hear me stutter. Fire the bitch. Now, if you don't mind, I have some calls I need to make,” Davis said as the barber handed him a mirror and he admired his cut. It was the tone he used when he dismissed people from his world. I'd witnessed Davis do this to several people before, but this was the first time he'd done it to me.

“You're the boss, Davis,” I said as I headed out of his office. I heard Davis say, “Great job, Chester.”

25
__________________

Jabar walked into my bedroom from the kitchen with chips in one of my treasured crystal bowls and salsa in one of my favorite caviar dishes. When I looked up abruptly from the article I was reading, he asked what he had done wrong.

“Nothing, Jabar. It's nothing,” I said, even though I was a bit disgusted. I placed the article and my red pencil on the nightstand.

“Yo, Z, then why you lookin' at me like that? Do you want some chips and dip? I know you always watchin' what you eat, but there are some more chips in there,” Jabar said as he sat on the edge of the bed in a pair of ice-blue boxers and white gym socks.

“Jabar, we need to talk,” I said.

“I'm listening,” Jabar said.

I moved closer to him, gently grabbed his arm and said, “I've been thinking about making some changes in my life, and I think maybe we should take some time apart.”

“So whatcha saying? I can't get no more of the punanny? You ready to give it to Mr. Moneybags? Z, you act like that nigga pimpin' you or sumthin'. You know he can't please you like I can,” Jabar said.

“What are you talking about?” I asked. I didn't know if Jabar knew of my relationship with Davis, but I was sure he knew I saw other people.

“Zola, yo don't play me for stupid. Mr. Moneybags let me know who was paying for your training. But I didn't give a damn. I don't care how much money he has, shorty ain't got shit on me when it comes to knowin' how to treat a woman,” Jabar said.

“You talked with Davis?”

“He did all the talking. So is he the reason you trying to drop-kick my ass out of your life?”

“This has nothing to do with Davis. It's just that ever since I came back from Thanksgiving, I've been thinking I need some space to figure out what I'm going to do. I'll be thirty this year. You're not even twenty-five,” I said.

“Age ain't got nuthin' to do with stuff. I don't know why you frontin' like this. You know I make you feel real good, Z. Let me remind you 'bout what you gonna be missing,” Jabar said as he licked his lips sensuously. How I love those lips, but I was determined not to fall prey. I needed to end this so-called relationship, since it was headed down a one-way street.

“It's not about age. I think we're going in different directions,” I said.

“Yo, so you saying I ain't good enough for you? Why sistas always think that about brothas? Is that why we always just meet here at your place?” Jabar asked.

“I thought that's what you wanted. I know you have other ladies in your life. This was never a serious thing.”

“And I know about your sugar daddy. None of that shit ever got in our way. We're magical together. Look at me and tell me I'm lying, yo,” Jabar said.

I looked toward the window and watched the thin silk curtains sway from the crackle of the fireplace.

“Yo, Z, look at me. Tell me whatcha thinking 'bout.”

“Jabar, don't make this hard,” I said.

“Yo, you always make me hard. I mean, just the sight of you. But if you give me my walking papers, you're going to have to go back to the end of the line when you start missin' my love,” Jabar said.

“Jabar, this isn't love,” I said.

“What's love for you? You want me buying you shit and writing poems for you? Is that what ole boy do? Do you like expensive gifts every day? Is that's what's up?”

“No,” I said.

“Then you need to talk to a brotha. Z, you good people and I like you. I like you a lot, but if you don't want to roll, then that's chill,” Jabar said.

“I hope you understand what I'm trying to say. It's not you. It's me,” I said.

“Cool. I know I try and treat ya right, never disrespect you or nuthin' like that,” Jabar said.

“I know that.”

“Then I was right with it. Why don't you let me remind you what you going to be missin',” Jabar said as he used his index finger and lips to summon me close to him. I stared at Jabar and thought about what he was asking me to do. Slowly, I got out of my bed wearing a lilac teddy and matching robe. When I stood a few inches from Jabar, he pulled down his boxers and kicked them to the side and all I could see was that fabulous piece between powerful legs and I could feel the instant wetness between my thighs.

Jabar pulled me close. I couldn't resist his intoxicatingly masculine smell, and I dropped my robe.

“You look damn good, Z,” Jabar whispered as his hands began exploring me slowly and tenderly until I was no longer wearing a single thread.

“Show me,” I said as I kissed him. Kissing wasn't one of Jabar's favorite things, but he was so damn good at it.

“I want you to do sumthin' for me,” Jabar said.

“I'm listening,” I said.

“I want you to stand on that chair,” Jabar said as he pointed to a leather-and-wood chair in the corner of my bedroom.

“You want me to do what?”

“I want you to stand on that chair,” Jabar said.

“Boy, have you lost your mind?”

“Trust me, you'll love it.”

“What if I fall?”

“Then I'll catch you,” Jabar said.

I had mixed feelings. A part of me wanted just to put my clothes on and tell Jabar we were finished and I didn't want to make love to him, but a part of me was curious about what he wanted to do with me and the chair. The freak in me won out and I found myself standing on the chair like a circus performer. I was feeling a little shaky, but Jabar took his firm hands and held me in place until I felt safe. I glanced over at my curtains and I could see my shadow pour over Jabar's face as he knelt below the chair like he was praying to a female god. I felt powerful and in control.

Jabar reached his hands around me and placed them on my ass and firmly but gently drew me toward his mouth. He kissed the insides of my thighs sweetly and then Jabar's tongue found my most magical place and a thrill rushed through my entire body like I had never felt before.

26
__________________

After Davis told me to fire Zola, I couldn't sleep. I liked Zola and thought she was doing a great job with the magazine despite the tough economic climate. Instead of staring at the ceiling, I got up and spent a few more hours reviewing Zola's contract. As I read through each line, it was obvious that it was the work of one of Davis's attorneys. I wondered if Zola had even read the contract before she signed it. Still, it was going to be tough for Davis to fire Zola without a true business cause. I needed to make him realize that and how a lawsuit would soak up a lot of time and make the magazine look bad. Zola Norwood was
Bling Bling
just like Susan Taylor was
Essence
magazine.

I got to Davis's office around 7:15
A.M
. and planned to wait in his outer office until he arrived. So I was a bit surprised when I got there and heard Davis's voice coming from his office. I guess that's why he was set to be America's latest black billionaire. I knocked gently and stuck my head through the slightly open door.

With a polite smile Davis motioned for me to come in. I stood in front of his desk as he finished his phone call. After a few minutes Davis hung up the phone and walked from around his desk. He gave me a firm handshake and said, “Good morning, Raymond. Have a seat. You're up early. Are you trying to keep up with me?” he said, laughing.

“That would take a lot,” I said as I sat down in one of the two leather-and-steel chairs facing Davis's desk. Davis walked back behind his desk and sat down in a large high-back leather chair. I noticed how everything on his desk was lined up precisely.

“So, what can I do for you? Did you get the locks on Zola's office changed yet?”

“No, that's what I want to talk to you about. I think we should reconsider firing Zola,” I said.

Davis's smile collapsed as he looked at me sternly and said, “What are you talking about? I want the bitch fired and I want it done today. I thought I made myself perfectly clear. Do I need to get one of my white boys to do it?” Davis asked.

I explained to Davis that while the contract was written in his favor, the company was still required to show just cause as to why Zola was being terminated. I very carefully and tactfully explained that discontinuing a sexual relationship with the boss could be a big problem in a court of law. I knew he was acting on emotion or sex, because Davis was much too savvy not to already know this.

“So how can I get rid of her?” Davis demanded.

“She would have to do something to breach the contract,” I said.

“Damn, Raymond, give me an example. I don't have a whole lot of time to spend on this. If she caused the magazine to lose money or favor with the public, would that be reason enough?”

“I don't think I understand the question.”

“What if I could prove she was stealing money?”

“Is she?”

“Zola wouldn't do that. But we could make it look that way,” Davis said.

“We?”
I was suddenly wondering how Davis had maintained his successful track record, since it appeared that he was willing to do anything to get revenge against someone who had done so much for the magazine.

“I don't need your help. I have a plan. We'll put it off for now, but I promise you within a week there will be a change at
Bling Bling
and the public will understand why. Zola will be so embarrassed, she wouldn't even think of suing. She'll just slink out of New York City and the magazine industry. Maybe she'll carry her country ass back to Hooterville and get married and make babies,” Davis said confidently.

I didn't know what his plans were and I didn't want to. I simply looked at him with a sad and confused look. How did this man get where he is pulling tricks like this? Davis was acting like a rejected high school boy who got cut from the football team and his cheerleader girlfriend dumped him to boot.

“Have a good day,” I said as I walked out of Davis's office.

“Yeah, you do the same,” I heard Davis mumble as I reached the door.

A few days later, Davis walked into my office looking quite pleased. He was carrying a magazine and what looked like legal documents. I was surprised to see Davis in my office, since he usually summoned me to his. I wondered what the big deal was.

“Davis, what are you doing here?” I asked as I stood up from my desk and walked over to shake his hand.

He slammed the magazine and documents on my desk and said, “I got just what I needed. Fire Zola today! Have the locks changed before noon.”

“What's this?” I asked as I picked up the magazine and saw a beautiful young lady on the cover with the headline
THE REAL DRAMA BEHIND YANCEY B.
across the middle of the magazine.

“The bitch gave me the ammunition I needed. Zola published this damn article on this young lady that doesn't have an ounce of truth in it, according to Yancey B.'s lawyer and record company. They're suing
Bling Bling
and McClinton Enterprises for fifty million dollars, and if that isn't enough to fire her, I don't know what is,” Davis said.

I picked up the document and started to read it as Davis continued to talk.

“I can't believe she was that stupid, running an article that sounds like it should be on the front of
The National Informer
rather than my magazine,” Davis said.

I continued to read the legal document, and I guess it upset Davis that I wasn't paying more attention to him, so he came over and snatched the document from my hands and yelled, “Raymond, pay attention! You can read that shit later. We need to come up with the language to inform Zola Norwood of her dismissal. I want it delivered to her home this evening.”

“What about the lawsuit? Don't you think I should look the documents over to make sure they even have a case? I mean, you will expect me to defend this, won't you?”

“No! I'll get one of my white boys to handle it. When you go into a court of law against the big boys, they want to see somebody who looks like them. Nothing against you and your skills, Raymond, but you understand, right?”

“I can't say that I do. If this is a valid case, then I'll defend Zola and your interests to the best of my abilities. I've handled cases like this in the past.”

“I don't give a shit about defending Zola. She's the one who's gotten us in the mess. I hired you for a lot of things, and one of them is to oversee this magazine. There needs to be a change in the leadership. That's your job. Fire Zola and get someone to take over immediately,” Davis said as he picked up the magazine and lawsuit.

“Davis, I think we should talk—”

“Raymond, there's nothing else to talk about. You have your orders,” Davis said as he paraded out of my office like he was a general leading a war.

When Bristol stepped into my office late that evening and told me the papers for Zola's termination had arrived from Davis, my initial thought was to look them over and then messenger them to her home.

While I was looking them over, I realized that Davis was serious about ruining Zola. Not only was she fired from her dream job, she was not allowed to seek employment with another magazine for at least two years. Zola also couldn't start her own magazine. The documents were as bitter as Davis was when he first mentioned firing Zola.

I wondered if she would be home alone when the papers arrived and how Zola might feel. Did she have somebody who would be there to hold her and tell her that everything was going to work out for the best? The thought of Zola learning about her termination from a bike-riding messenger who didn't give a damn didn't sit well with me. I could see the nameless messenger instructing Zola to “sign this” and then leaving her alone. I couldn't let that happen.

I pushed the intercom button and asked Bristol to come into my office. Moments later he was standing a few inches from my desk.

“You need something?”

“Yes, Bristol, call the car service and ask them to pick me up in front of the building in fifteen minutes,” I said.

“Where should I tell them you're going?”

“Tell them I'm going to Harlem.”