Second Time Around (16 page)

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Authors: Darrin Lowery

BOOK: Second Time Around
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“Hold on to her, Vaughn. Hold on to her and never let her go.”
“That's your clinical advice?”
“Yeah. That, and next time let the phone go to voice mail.” The two men laughed again. “Listen, your subordinates were probably worried about you. Actually, they were probably worried about them and how your being in love may affect them. You're in love. Never apologize for that, but take care of your business. This is just new territory for you, that's all. It doesn't sound to me like you're losing your edge. It sounds to me like you are gaining a new perspective.”
“Once again, I like the way you think. So what do you think I should do about the Japanese?”
“Go see them.”
“In person?”
“In person, And you know what? Take the little lady with you,”
“You think so?”
“ I think it will be a trip of a lifetime.”
“My man,” Vaughn said, smiling. “I like the way you think. Any other advice?”
“Find out why they changed their mind and if it was something that you did wrong, learn from your mistake.”
The two men finished their cigars.
They finished their drinks and Mr. Harris gave Darren a blank check. He looked at it with confusion.
“What do I do with this?”
“Right now, nothing. I plan to pay you for coming out here today. But I have a personal ritual that I do with people close to me; people I trust. I only trust six people in this world and each one has one of these from me. It's a show of faith. It's a show of trust. It's simply a blank check.”
“Wow. I don't know what to say.”
“There's nothing to say. It's a token. It just means that I trust you, that's all. If you ever need to use it, feel free. Chances are I'll get you another one.”
“These other people that have these checks, have they ever cashed them before?”
“One person has. It was my minister. He needed to give fifty grand to build a homeless shelter.”
“And you didn't trip?”
“No, I didn't trip.”
“What if I wrote a check for a million dollars to myself?” Darren was joking when he said it.
“Well, if the bank cashes it, I guess you would have a million dollars. Chances are, however, that one of my accountants would catch it first.”
“I would never do anything like that. If anything, I might frame it.”
“I know you wouldn't. I just wanted you to know that I trust you and hey man, I'm grateful for your help.”
“That's what I'm here for.”
The two men shook hands again and Vaughn's driver took Darren home. He went home and took his clothes off and got ready for bed. Before going to bed, he pulled his cell phone out to place it on the charger. When he looked at his phone, he had a text message. It simply had one word.
YES.
Chapter Fourteen
Earlier that day, Korie was out on the east side of town meeting with the Chicago rapper Goldie. He was purchasing a loft apartment and wanted help decorating it. Korie had been recommended by a friend of the rapper, so Goldie decided to give her a shot.
Korie had been on a roll with business and was seeing more and more clients each day. She finally had to consider getting an assistant because business was so good, and she was also looking at getting commercial office space rather than working out of her home.
These were suggestions by Vaughn and they were suggestions that she didn't take lightly, considering how business-savvy he was. Vaughn had friends who began throwing work Korie's way, and they had friends as well. Korie moved from helping people decorating their homes, to also decorating businesses, nightclubs, and even churches. Business was booming and not just because of whom she was now dating, but because Korie had a true talent that was beginning to shine.
She traded in her economy car for a BMW. Although she didn't accept favors from Vaughn, she did allow him to call a friend of his to work out the financing on her BMW. Because she was self-employed, some dealerships were “skeptical” about selling her a car. Her credit was not great, but it wasn't bad either. The fact that she had been out of work and self-employed for so long, made it “challenging” to get the car she wanted and the financing she wanted, even though it was obvious that she could make the payments.
Because she was working with a more elite clientele, Korie needed to step up her game. This too was at the suggestion of Vaughn. He explained to her that she couldn't sway the minds of customers who had personal tailors, while she was still shopping off the rack at department stores. Korie resisted this notion initially, stating that she wasn't trying to be something she wasn't, but she understood Vaughn's point. She understood that sometimes you have to fake it till you make it.
For Korie, this meant buying items one piece at a time and one outfit at a time. Vaughn, of course, offered to buy Korie whatever she wanted, but she refused. She didn't want to give up her independence. She also wanted to remain grounded while she dated him.
She did, however, take the occasional gift, jewelry or a memento that he would give her, but she explained that anything outside of their courtship was unacceptable. Instead, she bought her own items that she thought would help her image, one outfit at a time. Sometimes this meant that she would have to wear the same outfit to see twelve different clients, but she wore the hell out of those outfits and she wore them well. With the clothes and the car came a new air of confidence.
She felt more confidence getting out of a BMW to see a client than she did her economy car. Her clients began to give her looks of confidence as she stepped out of her car to meet them. Her clients seemed to look at her with admiration as they saw her in outfits by Gucci, Prada, Fendi, Chanel, and Valentino.
Many of the clients recommended by Vaughn were impressed with her personal style from the moment they saw her. This gave her professional suggestions more credibility when she suggested ideas that were simple or not the norm.
The more clients Korie saw, the greater her reputation. Her portfolio was growing and growing fast. Korie marveled at the turn her life was taking. Five years ago she would have never imagined that she would be where she was today. She would have never dreamed that she would be working for herself and rubbing elbows with the city's elite. She never knew that life could be lived like this. Once upon a time she simply wanted a simple life. She was beginning to think that years ago she was simpleminded. Then she thought of him.
I wish he could see me now, she thought.
Korie pulled up in front of a set of loft condos in the south loop of Chicago. Where these lofts stood, once were projects, the fabled Cotton Club of Chicago, and one of the worst neighborhoods in the city. Now with gentrification, south Michigan Avenue boasted shops, salons, grand churches, businesses, and multimillion-dollar lofts.
Korie pulled up and looked at the building where she was scheduled to meet her client and thought to herself, I wish I had the foresight to buy property down here when it was still the projects. She got out of her car and headed to the doorbell panel. She rang it and a voice on the other end answered.
“Who's this?”
“Uh. It's Korie Dillon, I'm here to meet with Goldie.”
“Okay, come on up.”
The loft the rapper was buying was one of the smaller lofts for sale. He was buying it as his second home and somewhere to relax while in downtown Chicago. He explained that he wanted it to be a home away from home. Korie took one look at the place and explained to him that it could be so much more.
The loft was 2,800 square feet. It had three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a world of possibility. Rather than look at it as a home for the rapper to sleep, she thought it would be the perfect place to entertain guests, shoot music videos, and meet and greet with clients.
Korie pulled out her laptop and showed the rapper other condos, lofts, and homes that she helped to decorate. She told Goldie that her vision for his place was a combination of all the places she ever decorated.
She told him that she wanted all the hardwood floors resurfaced and waxed. She explained that the living room area should have a bar and the atmosphere of a small nightclub. This way, he could have small, private parties; if he was ever out and a place was closing, he could take the after-party to his house.
She also explained that he could always shoot video scenes here, and what better place to have models audition for his videos than his place? What better place for video footage, than a live video from his home? Goldie was feeling her every suggestion. He sat and listened to her attentively like she was one of his managers. By the time Korie finished with her presentation, Goldie asked her would she ever consider decorating movie sets or music video sets. Korie explained that she had never done anything like that before, but she would indeed consider it.
Blessings and opportunities continued to come Korie's way and with each opportunity, came a windfall of money. Korie was realizing her dreams. Dreams that once upon a time, she didn't imagine could be a reality.
She walked up and down the loft and continued to make suggestions. As she and the rapper and his managers were deciding on what to do with his outdoor deck, her phone vibrated in her purse. She smiled to herself because she knew it was Vaughn. Her breath was almost taken away when she saw the text message.
IS THIS STILL YOUR NUMBER
?
-DARREN
Are you fucking kidding me? This is what Korie thought as she looked at the screen. She looked at it a few times, to make sure she wasn't dreaming any of this.
“Ms. Dillon? Ms. Dillon, are you okay?” Goldie asked.
“Yes, yes, I'm fine. I just got news about my next appointment, that's all. It's a cancellation.”
“Oh. Well, good, I guess that means you can give me more of your time.”
“I'm all yours for at least another hour. Let me text my client and inform him that I got his message.”
“Okay.”
Korie wasn't sure how to answer Darren's text. She wasn't sure what to say. She wasn't even sure that she wanted to respond. Here she was just getting him out of her system and like a typical man, he came back and infected her with his presence the second she thought she was immune. She wasn't sure how to respond, but she knew she had a client waiting. Figuring the best thing to do was keep it simple, she wrote a small answer and hit
SEND
.
YES.
She then went back to her client.
Chapter Fifteen
The next weekend came and Darren dialed Elite Escorts. He was looking forward to seeing Stephanie and explaining to her that he was okay with things going back the way that they were. He knew that things had gotten way out of hand and he needed to keep things simple. He needed to look at things as his client looked at things: He paid for a service and the woman provided that service.
Darren realized that he had a problem, but was not a willing participant to simply give it up. Like an addict he still wanted the drug, and just like an addict, he decided that he needed to wean himself off, or to simply cut back. There were two modes of thought here. One, he would slowly wean himself off of Stephanie and the escort service entirely and two, he would consider pursuing Korie, his ex. She invaded his thoughts a lot these days and he couldn't help himself. Since she was the only thing on his mind, he assumed she was meant to be with him.
He liked the idea of still seeing Stephanie. He liked the way things went with her. Sex, the activity, and everything was at his will; his choice. The fact that Stephanie had such a great personality was just a bonus. He decided he would have the best of both worlds. He had Korie's number. If she wasn't fat, married or had a bunch of kids, he could court her again and start over; start fresh. Their relationship could pick up where it left off and they could go where their relationship originally was destined to go. Hell, with the money Darren was making, he figured they could even start thinking about a family.
He would have his cake and eat it too. He would sex two beautiful women; one whom he still obviously loved anyway, and the other whom he had no obligation to. A woman he could leave any minute without reason or argument. It was the perfect situation.
Now all he needed to do was get in touch with Korie. He sent her a text.
I'D LIKE TO SEE YOU
.
He wasn't sure how she would respond, but being a therapist, he knew that it would simply take some time. She would need time to adjust, time to figure out what it was that she wanted to do.
He was sure she wouldn't be single. He was sure that she would want to see him again. Even if she had another man, because of the bond that they once shared, she would be conflicted; she would meet with him, she would have to. Part of this was his arrogance speaking. The other part was his experience. No man could know Korie like he knew her. No other man could offer her what he could.
Darren thought that he was fit, educated, nice looking, and now paid. He made three times as much as the average African American man. Korie would think about all that he had to offer and she would call him. She had to. This is what he told himself. He closed his cell phone after sending Korie a text and got himself ready to go to work. He was seeing five clients today, one of which was pro bono.
After getting dressed he made a second phone call. He called the agency. He wanted to see Stephanie this weekend. He wanted to make the appointment now. He dialed the number that before needed the assistance of a business card. Now the number was burned into his head, alongside childhood memories, fantasies, and important things. He knew the number by heart.
If his phone were checked, it would show that he dialed double E more than he dialed family members. A smooth female voice answered on the other end.
“Hello?”
“Hello, this is Mr. Howard. I'd like to make my weekend appointment. Same girl, same service.”
He talked to the operator like he was ordering takeout. The woman on the other end was the same woman he talked to that first night. The same woman who heard him trip over his words before. Things had changed. He was no longer nervous, no longer fumbling. Spending over 24,000 dollars did that to a man. It made him more confident. It had to. In a few months time, he spent enough money to outright buy a car. He spent that much money for the company of a woman.
There was a pause at the other end of the phone.
There had never been a pause before.
He thought to himself that perhaps there was a problem with the payment, but there couldn't be. There was plenty of money in his account.
The pause brought back his nervousness, anxiety. His mouth became dry and his breathing rapid.
“Is—there a problem?”
He heard typing on the other end, and he heard the operating breathing. He knew she was there, but she didn't readily answer.
“Hold on, sir.”
It was another pause.
A pregnant pause.
It was the pause you hear when bill collectors call. The pause when bill collectors put you on hold so they can look at your account; more importantly so they can look at documentation on the account. He heard typing. He heard breathing, but that was all.
“Uh, hello?”
“I'm here, sir. One moment.”
The voice was no longer smooth. The voice was now impatient. The voice now had a certain tone to it. The operator let out a small sigh. And then she spoke.
“Sir, that package is unavailable. Would you like another?”
The voice was smooth again, but not as it has been before. Not as if she was selling a fantasy. This time the smooth voice was fake. It was clearly fake. It was as if she were trying to feign professionalism. It was if she were not trying to lose his account, his money. It was clear there was some notation on the file.
“What do you mean, unavailable?” He looked at the phone with frustration.
He tried to keep his voice calm, without cracking; with no anxiety. He was standing up when he made the call, but now he had to sit down. He had to calm himself. He felt a rush and then warmth. It was like a dealer telling an addict that he was out of product.
“That package Mr. Howard . . . is unavailable. Would you like another?”
Her voice was patient again, but unwavering. It was a tone that he had heard before. He knew one wrong word, or one word out of anger, she would disconnect the call.
He surmised the woman on the other end was African American. All this time, he couldn't tell what nationality she was over the phone. Prior to today, her voice was always at the same pitch. Her voice was usually smooth. Perhaps it was from previous years of practice or just a marketing technique, but over the phone initially you could not tell anything about the operator over the phone other than the fact that she had a calming demeanor.
Today he was sure of it. Today he was sure that she was an African American woman. Her voice rang of impatience. She read something in his file that put her in sister-girl mode. She was professional, but she had that tone that black women sometimes have that says, I'm barely putting up with your ass and my patience is running out.
“Sir, that package is unavailable.” This time she was cold. Flat.
“Until when?” Darren asked.
“Indefinitely. Would you like another package?”
He could tell this was the last time the operator would ask.
“Um . . . no, thank—”
“Thank you for your business, Mr. Howard.”
The call was disconnected. Before he could say thank you, the call was disconnected. He felt ashamed. He felt embarrassed. He wanted to know what was in the file, but the truth was, he would never know.
What have I done? he thought to himself.
He took a few more minutes to get himself together and then he went to work. His stomach was knotted up and it felt as if it were burning with acid. This thing with Stephanie felt like a breakup and it hurt. He let out a sigh. He then stood up to leave when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He read the text on the other end.
NO.
It was from Korie. His stomach knotted even more.
She just needs time, he thought.
Only now, he wasn't as confident.
 
 
Darren went to work. He saw his first few clients. Two were depressed. It was hard to listen to them because clearly he was depressed as well. He did a good job of pretending he wasn't. He listened and he listened attentively, but in the back of his mind his thoughts were about two things: Stephanie and Korie. Both women were now a part of his past and at one point, he thought both might be a part of his future. He counseled his clients and took breaks between sessions. He needed time to get himself together and was surprised at how things were affecting him.
He needed time to regroup. He needed to get his life back to normal, whatever that was. He decided to leave work early and not see his last client. How could he advise others when his own shit wasn't together?
He walked out to the parking lot to his new car. It was his new toy. It was what he used the check for that Mr. Harris gave him. He needed to let the top down, to drive around town. He needed to be seen. His ego had already taken two major blows today from the two women who he wanted most. He needed to patch up his ego. He needed women to look at him like the hardworking professional black man that he was. He needed idol worship. Envy. Jealousy. He thought that the best way to get a woman off your mind is to get another in your bed. This time, he thought, it won't be a woman who requires a credit card.
He just chirped the alarm on his new car when he heard his name called.
“Excuse me. Excuse me, uh, Darren?”
Shit, he thought. He just knew it was another client. He was pleasantly surprised when he turned around and saw Karen; Special K, the dancer he met at the barbershop.
“Oh. Hello, how are you?”
A few weeks prior, she called him. She inquired about services and he referred her to another colleague. He would have taken the case himself except for two things: He no longer accepted the lower-income clients, and then there was the fact that she had such an incredible body.
He had forgotten about her. He had forgotten about the day at the barbershop. She remained true to her word and had not been back since to get her son's hair cut. Darren got his hair cut there every week. From time to time, Big Gucci would inquire about her. He'd ask if she called, but she hadn't. Darren chalked it up to perhaps her losing his card, or not being serious to begin with. He forgot about her entirely until a few weeks back.
He was sitting in his office just getting ready to leave when his Administrative Assistant called him to the front lobby. There she was with her son. She wasn't dressed up provocatively. She wore a sundress, glasses, and sandals. She was dressed common, respectable. Her breasts weren't as exposed as they were in the shop. She no longer looked like an exotic dancer who had just gotten off work. She looked like an everyday woman. She looked like a mom.
She showed up unannounced, a definite no-no. Darren hated unannounced visits. He hated surprises. But there she was one day with her son in tow. She was there and she needed help.
Darren interviewed her. She explained, just as he thought, that it wasn't her cousin who needed services. It was her. She explained that her son had been abused by a man who she thought she could trust. She went to the club one day to dance and left him home with her then boyfriend. Unknown to Karen, the man in question would sometimes slap the boy. One day while she was gone he beat the boy mercilessly. She came home and her boyfriend was gone, but her son was battered and bruised. He obviously left when he realized the damage that he had done. Her heart was broken and so was her faith in men.
She never called the police. That was something that she felt guilty about also. She never called the police because she was afraid that children's services would be called. She was afraid that she would lose her son, the only light in her life. She had the locks changed on her apartment, she stopped dancing for close to a month, and she nursed her son back to health. She rocked him, nurtured him, and gave him children's Tylenol until his wounds were healed. A year later, when she needed to enroll him in kindergarten, it was discovered that her son, Jacob. had a significant hearing loss in his right ear. It was a loss obviously due to the beating at the hands of the boyfriend.
It was a secret that she held for years. It was a guilt that ate away at her each day; guilt for not pressing charges against the man that abused her child. It was guilt over her negligence as a parent. Her son didn't talk much. He wasn't cognitively delayed, but he was withdrawn, as children whom have been traumatized often are. With every day that he was withdrawn, the guilt ate away at Karen. She needed help. They needed help.
A colleague owed Darren a favor. Darren's payment was that he be the one to treat Karen and bill her sessions pro bono. His colleague didn't want to treat her for the same reasons Darren didn't want to treat her. Once you saw a woman in the capacity of counselor, she was off limits to date. Both men wanted her. Karen was a little rough around the edges, but she was attractive. Darren's colleague had been seeing both Karen and her son in individual counseling sessions and saw them together as a family. Her progress had been great, from what Darren had been hearing, and for that he was pleased.

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