Read Breaking the Ties That Bind Online
Authors: Gwynne Forster
Breaking the Ties That Bind (6 page)
On her way to the Soft Music Studio the following Monday morning, she stopped at June’s desk. “I need to speak with Mr. Howell for about five minutes if he has time.”
“Okay. Keep a stack ready for automation. I’ll call you.”
About an hour later, she walked into Clifton Howell’s office on legs that felt like rubber. “Thanks for seeing me, Mr. Howell. I need your advice about something that I think is important. I attended the local chapter of SRDJ Saturday to join and to attend the workshops. I want to be good at what I do. Those guys made me uncomfortable, and I felt out of place until an older man walked over to me and started talking. His name is Charley Brighton. I told him what I did and where and, without my asking or suggesting that I was interested, he introduced me to Jack Meriwether, who offered me a job.
“Since I’ve been here, I’ve realized that I enjoy being a disc jockey, and that I’d like it so much better if I had contact with my audience. That’s why I’m trying to learn more. By the way, Mr. Brighton gave me some good tips. Do you think I can have a career with Howell Enterprises? I know it’s too soon for me to think about moving to radio here, but from what you’ve seen of me, do you think I have qualities that will enable me to move to radio after you finish automating the canned music and do well?”
With the butt of his hands on his desk, Clifton Howell made a pyramid of his ten fingers. Then, he flattened his hands and, just as she was feeling she’d like to disappear beneath the floor, he smiled. “You are the most disarming person I’ve ever met. Nobody in this business is as honest as you are. For that reason if no other, you’d better stay here, because I won’t take advantage of you. I don’t know what Jack is like to work for or what kind of terms he offered you, but . . .”
When he paused, she said, “He didn’t mention terms, only the hours—six to twelve.”
“Noon or midnight? I’ll bet my house it’s the morning shift, because that’s the most difficult one to staff. As for your career prospects, are you telling me you’d continue to work for me, let’s say, in radio, after you get your degree?”
“Why not? My major is communications, and I’m focusing on radio and TV rather than on print media.”
“All right. In that case, I’ll groom you, but if you want to switch to radio right now, I don’t have a spot open. When Tab moves to TV, my six-to-twelve jock will take Tab’s seat, and I’ll put you in the evening slot. If that proves too much along with your studies, I’ll switch you to the weekends.
“Now. Do you want to stay with me, or do you want to go with Jack?”
She laughed. His office seemed to swirl around at a dizzying pace, and she felt as if she were on a merry-goround. “Excuse me, sir, but I don’t often get a chance to feel this good. Thank you. I’ll call Mr. Meriwether and tell him that I appreciate his offer, but the hours are not suitable.”
“You’re welcome. Any more trouble with your mother?”
“I spoke with my uncle, her brother, about it, and I don’t think she can get around him. He won’t tolerate her foolishness.”
“Thank God for that.”
She went back to her station, took out her cell phone and called Jack Meriwether. “I’m sorry, Miss Richards. I thought you’d be perfect for the morning spot. If you ever want to leave Howell, let me know. Thank you for getting back to me.”
“Thank you for considering me, Mr. Meriwether.”
On the way home that afternoon, she stopped at a bookstore and bought a book on the history of jazz and blues and their relationship to spirituals. “From now on, my reading matter will have to support my career goals,” she said to herself as she left the store. “When I know what’s in these books, I’ll start on biographies of major musicians. Whoopee! For two cents, I’d dance right here on Fourteenth and F.”
The following Saturday, she attended the local chapter meeting of SRDJ again, and Charley Brighton greeted her as if she were an old friend. “You’ve just learned one of the crucial laws of success,” he told her, after she told him of her conversation with her boss. “If you’ve got a job, you can get a job, and if you want your boss to promote you, let him know that somebody else wants you. You made the better choice for you.”
She’d learned something else, too: the jocks who had ignored her or refused to talk with her the previous Saturday sought her out. But she soon became aware that they didn’t like or respect her more; they figured that if Charley Brighton knew her, she had to be someone important who could give them a lift up the ladder to success. She didn’t bother to correct them.
She bought a book on the life of Louis Armstrong and told her girlfriends—The Pace Setters—to buy the book, read it, and be prepared to discuss it the next time they met.
“I’d love that,” Flo said, excitement coloring her voice.
“Why don’t we become a book club?”
“Because Suzy isn’t going to read anything about sex, and Kitten isn’t going to read anything
but
sex. Let’s stay as we are, four women on the loose.”
but
sex. Let’s stay as we are, four women on the loose.”
Laughter poured out of Flo. “You say the funniest things, sometimes. Maybe you should have become a writer.”
“No thanks. I’ll have my chances when I become a radio disc jockey.”
Kendra pursued her new life without interference from Ginny, developing a widening group of acquaintances among the disc jockeys in the local SRDJ, and polishing her craft through the Saturday workshops and conversations with her peers. But she had begun to feel that she had to have more in her life.
If I had a mother, I could discuss it with her,
she thought, with not a little bitterness. Needing a kind of anchor, she went to her father’s shop after work one evening just prior to his closing time.
she thought, with not a little bitterness. Needing a kind of anchor, she went to her father’s shop after work one evening just prior to his closing time.
“Hi, Papa.” She hugged him and handed him a bag of Snickers, his favorite form of self-indulgence. “Want to have supper together? I can cook something, and we can eat at my place.”
“Thanks for the Snickers. What would you cook? I’d welcome supper with you, if it doesn’t take you too long to cook it. Or we could eat out.”
“I can make a great
choucroute garnie.
What kind of German sausages and wieners do you have?” He told her. “I need two of each and a piece of smoked pork tenderloin. I have sauerkraut, onions, and potatoes at home. Let’s go.”
choucroute garnie.
What kind of German sausages and wieners do you have?” He told her. “I need two of each and a piece of smoked pork tenderloin. I have sauerkraut, onions, and potatoes at home. Let’s go.”
“How long will that take?”
“Twenty-five minutes in the pressure cooker. It’s great with beer.”
“Yeah,” he said, his eyes lighting up, “and with some fine horseradish.”
Bert Richards sat on a stool in her kitchen and watched her prepare the one-pot meal. She didn’t try to explain to herself the reason for her contentment, the inner peace she felt, temporary though it might be. When the food was ready, she arranged it on a large turkey platter and put it on her dining table, which she had set earlier. Bert said the grace, and they ate in contented silence. At the end of the meal, he said, “This was wonderful. You can serve it to the most discriminating eater.”
He made coffee, put two cups of it on the coffee table, and sat down. “Let’s talk, Kendra. You’re in the dumps. Has Ginny done something to you lately? What’s the matter?”
She told him about her job and its prospects for her future, her efforts to hone her craft, her plans to enter Howard in the fall semester, her uncle’s assurance that her mother wouldn’t interfere with her again, and his reasons for doing so.
Bert had focused intently on her words and her demeanor as she spoke. “What you’ve been through these past few months would rattle anybody’s cage, but you’re a woman of iron strength, so none of it explains your demeanor when you walked into my shop. You came to me for comfort.”
“I don’t like to dump on you, Papa. I just felt like . . . like my ship is finally coming in, but it . . . it isn’t giving me the happiness I thought it would.”
“That’s because you’re missing something important. You need someone to love and who loves you. When you find that, you’ll feel as if you’ve got the world by its axis.”
“But, Papa, I don’t meet any interesting men. There was one who came to the restaurant alone every Wednesday. I thought I could like him. I saw him the last time I went to church with you, and I still thought so. I don’t think he would have gotten interested in a coatcheck girl, but—”
“Then come to church with me next Sunday. Maybe he’ll be there. You’re not a coatcheck girl anymore.”
“I’ll be in school starting late September. Then I’d like to find a way to meet him.”
“All right, but don’t set your heart on it. He could be married, gay, or a hard-nosed bachelor, in which case he’ll string you along forever and never marry you.” He sipped the coffee, musing over what she’d told him. “If your boss gives you evening hours so you can go to school during the day, I’ll meet you when you get off, and drive you home. That’s the least I can do. You sure you’re going to have enough money for your tuition?”
“Yes, sir. I’m sure I’ll get an academic scholarship after the first semester. But if I don’t, I’ll have enough for my junior year. I know I’ll get one for my senior year.”
“If you’re short, I’ll do what I can to help you.”
When he rose to leave, she hugged him and walked with him to the door. “I can’t imagine what I’d do without you, Papa.” With tears in her eyes, she hugged him again.
He looked down at her, and she thought his eyes seemed to sparkle with unshed tears. “You’re the joy of my life, daughter.” With that, he opened the door and left.
He’d barely reached the front door of the apartment building, when Kendra sat down at her computer, accessed Howard University, and downloaded an admittance form for former students. Kendra didn’t anticipate any problems, because she’d dropped out with a straight-A record and had no demerits of any kind. She completed the form before going to bed and mailed it on her way to work the next morning. Two weeks later, she received notification of permission to continue her studies there.
She got her wardrobe in order, mending and altering some things and shopping for needed essentials. With an income to cover her living expenses and a good part of her tuition and other school expenses and working hours from five to eleven in the evening, she considered herself blessed and at last on the road to achieving what she had longed for.
However, her life was not to be smooth no matter how carefully she planned each move. The day before Kendra was to register at Howard, she received a telephone call at eight o’clock in the morning. She answered the phone while puzzled at the unfamiliar number on the ID screen.
“Kendra, this is Ginny.” She shrank away from the phone as if it were on fire. “Did you hear me? This is Ginny and I’m in jail. They don’t allow me but one phone call, so you’ll have to come down here and bail me out.”
She sat on the edge of her bed, and breathed deeply, in and out.
“Say something. I only get one phone call.”
“I heard you. I’m trying to figure out what you want me to do about this.”
“Get me out of here!”
“Really, Mama. What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. They say I broke the law.”
“Then, you probably did. You’d better tell me what they’re accusing you of. I may not want to get involved.”
“How dare you! I’m your mother. I didn’t do anything. They said I was driving an unregistered car with a suspended license, and it’s a lie.”
“I’ll tell Uncle Ed. Maybe he has some money. I’m registering at Howard tomorrow morning, and that will take all that I have.”
“Listen here you . . . you . . . Get me out of here! Damn Howard University. I’m not staying in this place with all these crack heads.”
“I’ll tell Uncle Ed to call that number. That’s the best I can do.”
“He won’t do a thing!”
“I’m sorry. I advise you to get a professional bondsman and work out a plan to repay him.”
“They charge an arm and a leg. I don’t have any money to pay a bondsman.”
“Then you don’t have any money to pay me back, either. I can’t do it. This is my last chance, and I’m taking it.”
“Damn you. You’re just like your father. Fit for nothing.”
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