Someone to Watch Over Me (12 page)

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Authors: Michelle Stimpson

BOOK: Someone to Watch Over Me
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“Web
what
?”
“You know, like w-w-w dot something-something-something dot com,” I tried again.
“Oh, you talking about the infernet?”
“In-
ter
-net. Yes.”
“No. We don't have the Internet in my class, just at the library.”
He was right about that much. We'd have to go “old school” with his entertainment. I grabbed a notepad and pens with various ink colors from another compartment.
“You like to draw?”
“No.”
I checked my watch. “Look, I don't have anything else. I don't have any kids, DeAndre. This is all new to me. Give me a break on this one, okay?” Then I resorted to something I'd seen plenty of parents do in grocery stores. “If you sit here and quietly occupy yourself until I come back, we'll go do something fun later. Okay?”
His eyes lit up. “Fun like what?”
“I don't know, but I'll figure it out. Just draw for now. Practice your multiplication tables, too.” I drew an imaginary line across the entrance to my cubicle. “Do not move from this area, and don't talk to anyone. If anyone comes by and asks you who you are or what you're doing here, just tell them you're here with Tori Henderson.”
“Your last name ain't Lester?”
“No, my last name is
not
Lester.”
“So, are we real cousins or play cousins?”
“Real.” Why did any of this matter right now?
DeAndre's face brandished a full smile. “Okay. I'm glad, Cousin Tori.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
With DeAndre settled, I proceeded to the conference room and took a spot near the head, where I knew Preston would sit. Though I hadn't been away long, already the room possessed a foreign air. The table seemed longer, ceiling higher, lights brighter.
Most of my team (minus Preston) entered at once. Lexa entered first, wearing a power blue suit and black pumps. Brian next, in his signature gray. Two other associates, Kellie and Shane, followed. Obviously, they'd gone to lunch together.
“Hi, Tori!” from Lexa. “Good to see you. How's your grandmother?”
“My aunt,” I corrected her fake inquisition. “She's much better. They're releasing her from the hospital Monday.”
Brian jumped in. “You'll be back next week, then?”
I tilted my head. “Not exactly. She'll be going to rehab.”
They moaned collectively:
oh, I see.
Lexa took the seat across from me, furtively glanced at the room's door, then blurted out the question I'm sure was on each of my colleagues' minds. “Tori, exactly when
will
you be coming back?”
Something about the sharp tone in her voice didn't sit well with me. Sounded like a teenager home alone, scheming to figure out how much she could get away with in her parents' absence.
Preston saved the day upon entrance. “Hello, Tori! So glad you could make it.” He clasped both of my hands in his, a fairly warm gesture for our office.
“Glad to be here.”
Preston sat and got straight to business, asking for updates on each person's caseload. I chimed in with the reports, hadn't missed a beat. He shared data supporting everyone's satisfactory productivity and then braced us for his big announcement.
“Looks like we're all on track for another great year, but we'll have to step things up. We're taking on a new client. The biggest one we've ever landed, thanks in great part to Lexa.”
Jealousy coursed through my veins. Lexa? She flashed a beauty-queen smile and waved as though gliding down Main Street on a float. My cohorts chuckled at her antics.
Since when did they all find Lexa so humorous? And what on earth could she have done in the few weeks I'd been gone to secure a client worthy of me driving more than three hours to hear this groundbreaking proclamation?
“We just inked a two-year contract with Inner-G drinks. . . .” Preston could barely finish his sentence before the room filled with
oohs
and
aahs
. Inner-G's founder, world-renowned rapper G-Cash, had partnered with a host of basketball players and Hollywood celebrities to launch his version of an energy drink. By all appearances, this line was the urban version of Red Bull.
Why would Preston involve our firm in such a trendy venture? Most of our clients were respectable, mainstream businesses with whom we had proven track records in reaching majority consumers. Researching and accessing a new niche would take us completely out of our marketing expertise.
Furthermore, I questioned how Lexa had managed to work this deal. I wondered whose behind she'd kissed. Literally.
“In light of this acquisition, we'll be reassigning and hiring. Lexa will, of course, head the Inner-G account. Her enthusiasm and tenacity will lend itself well to their campaigns.”
A round of applause for Lexa ensued as a haughty grin snaked across her lips. I forced my hands to clap, but my brain boiled.
“To back Lexa, however, we'll add Tori's experience to the equation.” Preston pointed in my direction. Another stupid clapping spell.
Me?
This was great. Just great. I don't know what else Preston said in that meeting. He lost me when he basically appointed me assistant to Miss Corporate Bootie-Smacker.
The meeting concluded with my attitude a total wreck. Didn't help to find a group of fellow employees flocked around my desk.
Why are all these people in my work space?
Before I could say anything, DeAndre hopped down from my seat and stepped toward me. “I'm sorry, Cousin Tori. I didn't know what to do.”
“Didn't know what to do about what?”
The small crowd of adults dispersed, their heads hung low, avoiding eye contact. Behind them, one of the custodians emerged toting my trash can with gloved hands at arm's length, as though it might contain nuclear fallout. He walked past me, shaking his head.
“What happened, DeAndre?”
He stood in fig-leaf formation. “I had to pee. But you told me not to go anywhere or talk to anybody. So . . . I peed in the trash can.”
Anger and disbelief crawled up my face. “You did what?”
Seth, one of the younger administrative assistants in the office, tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, “I walked by and saw his little rear end sticking out above his pants. You might want to let him know, if he wants to sneak-a-leak, use the opening in his underwear. That's why guys have a flap in the front.”
I turned slightly to gauge Seth's facial expression.
“Are you serious?”
He held back laughter. “Trust me, it's a life skill for males.” He winked and walked away.
Maybe Seth was used to peeing in trash cans, but this kind of thing was not normal in my world. I returned my attention to DeAndre, still quietly standing in the center of my cubicle.
He rationalized, “Sometimes we pee in the wastebasket at school.”
“
Who
is
we
?”
He confessed, “Me and my friends do it, when we're in the restroom. But one time we got caught, and we got suspended.”
“So you thought it was a good idea to pee in the wastebasket at my
job
?”
His blank face piled even more fury on top of the Twilight-Zonish feeling that I was caught in a nightmare.
This boy done peed in my trash can!
“DeAndre, it's no wonder you're in trouble all the time.” I grabbed his elbow. “Let's go.”
Suddenly it all made sense. I could understand now why parents always look so stressed and why teachers need two months off in the summer. These kids will drive you crazy.
Chapter 13
A
ll the silent way home, I kept wondering what I should do about this peeing incident. Spank him? Ground him? Make him pee in a wastebasket a hundred times to break him from this nasty habit? Maybe if I Googled “my child peed in a trash can” I might get some ideas, but every kid is different, and this kid wasn't even mine. Was it my fault for telling him to stay isolated in the cubicle? Would I have been more accepting if he'd peed in his pants trying to hold it?
Probably.
Lexa's darn-near promotion (over me) also scraped my nerves. Was there no loyalty at NetMarketing?
Probably not.
I needed to get back to work soon and scrounge up a few good clients, too. Now that we were going hip-hop, taking money from anyone who'd dish it whether we knew their market or not, I was game.
 
Kevin's bright red Mustang GT always seemed to protrude from its row in our underground parking garage.
What's he doing home?
I noticed DeAndre pouting as we approached my doorway. How dare he have an attitude. “What's
your
problem?”
“You said we would go do something fun after your meeting if I didn't leave from your desk,” he fussed.
He was almost comical at this point. “DeAndre, you don't
get
to have fun when you urinate in trash receptacles at people's jobs.”
“I didn't u-ron-ate, I peed.”
I gave up. “Whatever.”
He muttered, “I knew you were lying.”
An image of me backhanding DeAndre flashed through my mind. Scared me, actually, to know I could envision such violent scenarios, and to realize my temper could go from zero to sixty in thirty seconds flat with this little boy.
Breathe. Count to ten.
“I wasn't lying, DeAndre. The deal is off because of you, not me. And don't you ever accuse any adult of lying ever again. You understand?”
Momma mode was in full effect, but I'd have to get this boy back to Bayford quickly before he forced a brief jail stay upon me.
I fumbled through my key ring, searching for the right one. All I wanted was to get inside, fall on my bed face-down, and scream into a pillow. For the past twenty-four hours, I'd been doing nothing except jumping through hoops, thoroughly ashamed at DeAndre's school, upstaged by Lexa, only to be mortified moments later by my cousin's actions. A meltdown would do me just fine.
Alas, I still had DeAndre in custody. And now Kevin, who knew hardly anything about this child. As of this morning, that made two of us.
I leaned down to address DeAndre at eye level. “Listen, my boyfriend, Kevin, is inside. He's probably tired from work, so you need to keep it down,” I instructed.
“You got a boyfriend?” DeAndrew asked, a twinge of disappointment lining his question.
“Yes.”
“How long is he gonna be here?”
“He stays here.”
DeAndre covered his lips with both hands. “Ommmm. My granny said a woman ain't supposed to stay with a man she ain't married to.” Now he scraped one index finger over the other, giving me the shame-on-you signal. “That's bad, Cousin Tori, super bad.”
Give me a break.Yo momma is in the pen.
“Just be quiet, DeAndre.”
Kevin's “Hey babe” was cut short at the sight of our little guest. The three of us did a little eye-cutting dance. Kevin confused, me apologetic, DeAndre unimpressed.
I formally introduced them; they shook hands. Kevin promptly called a meeting of the minds in our bedroom. I gave DeAndre orders to stay on the couch, adding, “If you have to use the restroom, it's down the hall.”
Once in our bedroom, Kevin closed the door behind me. He barked, “What's he doing here?”
I stepped out of my heels and sunk into the chaise, hoping my routine actions would calm Kevin's impending freak-out. “He got kicked out of school for a few days. I had to bring him with me.
“What are
you
doing home already?” I continued. “I thought you were in St. Louis for the week.”
“Plans changed. They needed Romie there instead. Language translation issue. I'm heading out for Milwaukee tomorrow, but don't try to change the subject. Why is there a
kid
in our apartment?”
“You're acting like I brought home a giant squid in a fish tank.”
“Might as well. What are you trying to do here—make a little family for us?” He peered into me; I read into him.
“This is not about you, Kevin. Don't flatter yourself.”
I brushed past him and took a seat on the toilet to relieve myself, at least physically. Though I was just as upset about having DeAndre in the house, I wasn't in the mood for an argument. Save that for Joenetta.
“Don't worry. I'm taking him back to Bayford tomorrow, and I'll come back to Houston as soon as I possibly can so I can work with Lexa on the new client she single-handedly won over. Preston's really tooting her horn right now.”
“What'd you expect? You left your job to take care of family. Now they know where your priorities lie,” he fussed from the closet.
“Since when is family so wrong?” I wailed from the bathroom.
He sighed loudly. “Since it slows down production. Everybody knows that's why women don't move up the career ladder as quickly. They're tied to the family rung. Plus they're too loyal. Can't navigate through a dog-eat-dog world when you're tied to people.”
“You should know,” I pressed.
“Here we go again,” Kevin whined. He stepped into the restroom and checked his reflection.
Rather than sporting his workout gear, Kevin had changed into a pair of jeans and a dressier button-down shirt with an angel-wing appliqué on the back side.
I flushed and faced him at the counter. “Where are you going?”
“I was looking forward to a frisky evening with you, but little—what's his name—DeMerrick?”
“DeAndre.”
“Yeah, well, he changed those plans.” He turned on the faucet and commenced to brushing his teeth. Kevin's brown skin, always a rich reward in itself, brought out the flirt in me.
Crossing my arms, I leaned against the counter. “You plan on kissing someone tonight?”
“Not you.”
No he didn't!
“What's that supposed to mean?”
He finished brushing, spat out the paste, and rinsed. “Means as long as you've got that kid here, you won't be getting any.”
“Kevin—”
“I'm serious, Tori. I don't
do
kids. They make me nervous. Why'd he have to come with you, anyway? Where are his parents?”
“His mom is in prison—”
“Great!” Kevin laughed. “Is he a thief?”
“No, his
mom
is incarcerated—not
him
. Why are you acting so ignorant and rude? What's wrong with you?”
“I should be asking
you
that question. Ever since you came back from the hospital, you've been on this crazy humanitarian kick. Then you go to Bayford and . . . I thought you were supposed to be helping your aunt, not saving the world—or giving me hints.”
Okay, he lost me there. I trailed him back to his closet, where he slipped his feet into a pair of loafers.
“What do you think I'm hinting about?”
“That kid! Did you think you'd bring him here, we'd all go to Chuck E. Cheese, and I'd get a warm fuzzy feeling about getting married, having a family?”
“Kevin, I didn't even know you were going to be here.” I prompted his memory. “You're supposed to be in St. Louis right now.”
Never defeated, he ignored my observation. “You need to get your priorities back in order. We were good until you got sick.”
He stuffed his wallet into his back pocket, grabbed an overnight bag and tossed a few staples inside. I darted in his path and pushed my index finger into his chest. As Aunt Dottie would say, it was time for us to have a come-to-Jesus. “I thought we were good, too, until I saw you couldn't be there for me when I needed you most.”
He took a deep breath, rolled his eyes. “Tori, get over your enlightenment. Take the kid back to Bayford, get a nurse for your aunt, come back to Houston, get back to work, and we can pick up where we left off. I don't want all this extra family drama in our relationship. It's not healthy.”
He was role-playing either Dr. Phil or a jerk.
“Hypothetically speaking, what if I decide I want a family?”
“Then . . . I guess that's the choice you make.”
Kevin grabbed his keys from the dresser and walked past me. “I'm out.”

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