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Authors: Timmothy B. Mccann

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BOOK: Until
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“That's good. You know how people are when they smell a few dollars.”

“Tell me about it,” Betty replied, and clicked off the alarm as she opened the door to her navy BMW convertible.

“Damn shame you're still on salary and don't get to share in any of that.”

“The money really wasn't that important to me.”

“Whatever,” Jacqui said over a sigh.

“No, seriously. I just wanted them to pay for what they did to this woman's family and to that community. Just because it was a Hispanic neighborhood, they thought they could get away with not maintaining those crossing arms. They also figured since our firm was based out of little old Gainesville, they could bring in all of those big-city attorneys. Get real,” Betty said with a twist of the neck as if they spoke face-to-face. “No, no, no, this one went deep. You know how teachers always say they're compensated in a way other than money? Well, they couldn't give me enough money for the way I felt when the verdict was read. Midway didn't even have the decency to send that woman a bouquet of flowers. They had the audacity to say if he and the baby were buckled up, they would have survived the crash. Girl, I would have done it for free.”

“Well, I don't know about all that free stuff, but guess who I finally got a chance to meet? Evander!”

“You mean my Evander?” Betty said with a smile in her voice.

“Oh, so it's ‘my Evander' now, huh? Excuse me. I haven't heard you say that since you were strung out over Donnell. Two grown folks playing you-hang-up-first on the phone, but I ain't gonna go there.”

“Jac, this man has got me wearing blinders. I don't wanna even talk about another man, he's so sweet. You know our office manager, Lisa? She keeps telling me about this football player she knows who has a financial consulting firm or something here in town. But I really don't want to—”

“Tell her to give him my number. Now, as I was going to say, Evander wanted to get the restaurant's business for
his bakery. He'd called me a few months ago and I told him to phone after the holidays, so I give him credit for following up. I like that. I told him about the problem I had with the other bread man f'ing up my bill, and he said he would handle our account personally if I gave my business to Ferguson. But I don't know. Their prices are still a little higher than what we were paying before.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I guess I'll help a brother out, but don't tell him that. I'm still trying to get him to come down a little.”

“How much do you need him to drop?” Betty asked as she steered her car through midmorning traffic.

“About three percent, at least.”

“Jacqui, did you say
three
percent?”

“Hell yeah. Every penny counts in business.” And then her voice lowered and Betty imagined her using her mental calculator. “If I could save three percent . . . on my bread cost . . . do you know what that would add up to . . . over a year? Just guess. Come on, guess.”

“I don't know,” Betty said, and slowed for the yellow light. “But I bet you got it down to the penny, don'tcha?”

“Two hundred and seventy-five dollars, thank you very much. That's enough to cover a week's pay for a waiter. Okay?”

“You're a trip.”

“No, sweetie, I'm a
tour.
I don't pay retail for anything. I negotiated down the price for a pair of black pumps in the mall just last Saturday night.”

“I'm glad you don't do that when I'm around.”

“Please. I asked if they would be going on sale in the future. The clerk said in three weeks. So I told her I'd buy three pairs if she'd give me the sale price now.”

“And she did it?”

“Child, please? I talked to the manager and got fifty percent off no less, and I only ended up buying two pairs. I just can't bring myself to pay full price since the time I heard that old Jewish lady my momma worked for say only niggers pay retail.”

“You need help,” Betty whispered with a half smile as she thought about the irony of the last comment. “Hey, I
got a joke for you. I heard it during deliberation. You ready? This lawyer fails the bar examination because he thought an
antitrust
was a chastity belt! Get it? Anti . . . aw, never mind.”

After a pause Jacqui laughed. “Child, you wouldn't know a good lawyer joke if you tripped over it. How about this one. A man is walking through a graveyard. He sees this headstone that says, ‘Here lies a lawyer and a decent man,' and the man says, ‘Dayumb! They got two men buried in the same hole'!”

“Okay, okay, you got me,” Betty laughed. “That was pretty good. So tell me, what did you think about
Vander
?”

“He's cute! I didn't know he was that big, though. How tall is he anyway?”

“I think he said six four,” Betty said, and blushed like a teenager “I'm not sure, though. Six three or six four.”

“Girl, it doesn't matter. Six foot four? My, my, my. Driving a pearl white Land Cruiser no less? Tell me, how does it feel to rub your fingers through all of that curly hair?”

“See, now you acting silly.”

“Bump that! I couldn't tell, does he still have all of his hair?”

“He's losing a little in the middle, but—”

“Let me tell you something. On a man as fine as him, it doesn't really matter. And I usually don't get into light-skinned brothers. I noticed he has some big hands and thick fingers. Like softball mitts or something. Does he have big feet?”

“Jacqui!” Betty said, in an embarrassed tone, knowing where her friend was going with the question.

“What? You better tell me something! I want de-tails. You know what they say about men with big hands and feet.”

“Okay, okay. His feet are big too. I don't know what shoe size he wears, but they're big. And guess what,” Betty added in an attempt to change the direction of the conversation. “When we were watching
Soul Food
the other night, I noticed the hair on his chest is shaped like a giant curly valentine. I just love running my fingers—”

“Please. He could have a toupee stapled to his chest for all I care. Be glad he got big feet. I dated this guy named
Morris?” she said, raising her voice at the end of each sentence in a questioning tone. “I think he was a Sigma? Brother was six feet three? Two hundred pounds, I think? Wore a size-eight shoe. Swear ta God, I kid you not! I ain't never dated a man who got a package of M&M's and a Rugrats coloring book when he bought new shoes. Home-boy was Buster Browned down to the ground,” Jacqui said to Betty. “And on top of that I think he was gay or at least bi.”

“Noooo. Really?”

“Yeah. I always thought he had a little sugar in his tank, but I sent him to the video store to get a movie and he came back and handed me the box. So I looked at it quick thinking it was Forrest Gump.”

“And it wasn't?”

“Please,” Jacqui said with a cluck of her tongue. “It was a gay movie from Greece. Tide of it was, Soros Rumps! And then he tried to act like he made a mistake. Girl can I pick'um or what? But tell me. Getting back to your man, does he have hair on his back?”

“Oh God, no! I hate that.”

“Well, I think it's kinda sexy. But yes,” she said in a you-go-girl voice, “he looks . . .
good.
I wish I could find me a brother like that.”

“Girl, please. Don't even go there. Clarke was all that and you chased him away. He was cute.”

“Let's not even get started on Officer Smith. The man had the intellect of a wet spiderweb. And aggravating? Brother always wanted to fuss about something. He didn't have ulcers, but he damn sure knew how to give them. I mean, I just can't go out like that. I'm thirty-four, soon to be thirty-five and—”

“Jac, you're thirty-six.”

“Who asked you anything?”

“Jacqui, you're thirty-six. Repeat after me. Thirty?”

“Like I was going to say, I've waited this long. You know?”

“Well, I thought you kinda liked him. Freda Mae was crazy about him.”

“Listen. Freda Mae Jordan just wants some grandchildren.
She doesn't care where they come from. The stork could bring them or they could come out of the cabbage patch for real. Okay? She told me she didn't care if I wasn't even married, just get her some gaddamn grandkids. But seriously, I'm saving myself.” As Betty started to giggle, Jacqui said, “Stop laughing! I'm serious! Can I finish? Damn! I'm saving myself emotionally. I'm just not gonna give myself to all these sweet dick Negroes anymore. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a good piece of—”

“Jacqui!”

“Let me finish, please. When you start saying you love men now'days, they start acting a fool. So I'm just not gonna be as liberal with my love. When the right man comes, I wanna have something left for him, emotionally.”

“I know how you feel.” As the words passed, for a moment each woman reflected on all of the Evanders who had walked in and out of their lives. “I see a lot I like in him. I really do. But you know how that can be when you first start dating. I don't want to get in too deep too fast. You know how I was raised. But,” Betty said, and released a puff of air, “I'm glad you finally met Vander. How long since he left there anyway?”

“About a half hour or so, I guess. Why?”

“Get this,” Betty said, and politely waved on a gentleman who had slowed his car to get her attention. “Jack Murphy, Mr. Jack Murphy himself, invited Evander and me to his house for dinner tonight. And you know what? He remembered Vander's name from that office function a couple of weeks ago. I mean, I always noticed he remembered everybody's spouse's name, but Vander and I are just dating.”

“Damn, really?”

“Yeah. Jack's all right. He was in the courtroom most days during the trial, you know. He's helped me a lot.”

“Umm. Well, I'm happy you won. Can you imagine if you had won that case in private practice?”

“Don't start again. I'm just trying to play the game,” Betty replied as she tried to wave off the guy who was beginning to be a pest. “Jack has been watching me closely, and the executive board may be getting ready to make an offer. Rumor has it they're going to offer a partnership within the
next sixty to ninety days. I noticed on a memorandum for the partners that my billable hours were about thirty percent higher then the next associate on the list. With this verdict and my record, I look good, so we'll see. But in regards to going solo, if I wasn't with this firm, I may have never seen a case like this, so there are two sides to it.”

“Maybe you wouldn't, maybe you would. But four hundred and fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money to ‘maybe' about. You understand me?” Jacqui said in a parental tone. “I mean, one case like that and, girl, you set. Let's say they put you on the letterhead. You'll still have that idiot Renfro as managing partner. He'll still be calling the shots around there. If you hang a shingle, you can pick and choose which cases make you happy. Just think. Four hundred and fifty—”

“I know, I know, I know,” Betty said, and gave the guy in the other car a sneer that prompted him to give up and drive away. “But sometimes it has to be more than just the money. Hey, I gotta call Evander to see if he's free tonight. Are you going to be around later on?”

“More than likely. I'm short a waitress since Kathleen is off again. She went to visit that fool in prison, so I'm filling in where they need me.”

“Okay. Well, if I don't call back, I'll just drop by later, okay?”

“So if you have time to drop by here, you must be all moved in, huh?”

“Yeah. I got a few boxes to open still, but everything is at least in the right room now. Thanks for the help last night. I just never thought buying a house would be this involved.”

“Tell me about it. Well, I will be here when you get here. Oh yeah,” Jacqui said before Betty hung up, “again, girl, congratulations. I know those MFs over there thought you couldn't do it, but you did.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that,” Betty replied as she said good-bye, heard the dial tone and laid the phone to rest on the passenger seat.

Chapter 2

 

Betty used the
speed dial to call Evander. She had known him for some time, but they had only started dating recently. While she'd noticed he was always courteous to the other shoppers in the bakery she stopped at in the mornings, he would never so much as make eye contact with her. Not only had it not bothered her that he didn't look at her, she'd preferred it. She was focused on the brass ring in her career and didn't need diversions. Then, out of nowhere, he'd sent flowers to her office. When she'd called to thank him for the gesture, he'd made some conversations, which had come as a complete surprise to Betty. He was gregarious when he made jokes with customers and was often loud in the mornings when she came in for her pumpernickel bagel schmear. Evander was also more than ten years older than she, so the shy routine did not add up. But two weeks later he'd called back, and since then, when she was not at work on the Lopez case, the two were inseparable.

On their first date Evander explained to Betty that before he had become a baker, he'd worked in the construction field. He'd worked construction because he'd dropped out of college after the birth of his son. Evander and his son, whom everyone called Junior, had been constantly together on weekends. While Evander and his child's mother were never close, he'd looked forward to taking him to the movies,
the playground, and even miniature golf. But one night Junior's mother had called and told him she had been offered a promotion and would be moving to Los Angeles. Now, outside of one summer his son had spent in Florida, his only contact was a weekly phone call.

After losing Junior, Evander had decided to improve himself and had taken the job in the bakery because he had gotten tired of the cyclical drywall business. Since the owner of the business was a friend of the family and needed a manager, it was an easy solution to his career dilemma.

“Hello, Eastside Bakery. Would you like to try our new chocolate twirlers today?”

“Hi. Is Evander in?”

“Yes. Is this Betty?”

“Yes, it is, Mr. Ferguson. How are you today?”

“I'm fine. Evander's been on pins and needles all day worrying about that case.”

Betty smiled. “Really?”

“Yep. Let me get him. One second, okay?”

“What happened? Did you win?” Evander asked as soon as he got on the phone, his dark voice filled with youthful excitement.

“Yes, sweetie, I won.”

“Damn! That's great,” he said with pride. “One second, okay? Hey, everybody, she won. Again! Oh . . . damn, I forgot to ask her. One second.”

“Tell them one point five million,” Betty replied in anticipation of the question.

“Dollars? One point . . . five million . . . dollars? Are you serious? But he was drunk and didn't have a seat belt on the baby in the front seat.”

“Hey, the jury listened. They looked at the facts and did what they felt was right.”

Betty could hear a voice in the background that screamed, “Did you say one point five
million
dollars?”

“Yeah,” Evander said. “My baby tough.”

“Hey, Evander? I need to ask you a favor.”

“Anything, dear, but before I forget, could you come over tonight, about nine o'clock? I special-ordered the rack of lamb you like so much, and I have a few other surprises as
well. That wouldn't interfere with anything you had planned for this evening, I hope? All those night meetings regarding the case are over now, right?”

Damn,
Betty thought. She hadn't spent any quality time with Evander in weeks. Between the case and moving into the house, she'd had little free time. And now she was going to spoil his special evening with another Murphy, Renfro and Collins commitment. “Did you say nine?” Betty said, thinking fast.

“Yes. Is that a problem? I know you still have a lot of unpacking to do in the house. If you like, we could have dinner a little earlier?”

“No. No, honey, nine o'clock is fine.”

“Good. I can't wait to see you, and if you like, I'll follow you home to help. Oh yeah, what did you want to ask me?”

“Oh, umm, it's so funny. I was gonna invite you out to dinner with me.” Betty had never put personal affairs before business in her six years with the firm, but she felt no guilt for doing so tonight. She had devoted all of her time to the firm since she had become an associate, but on this night Betty just wanted a little time to herself and this man in her life. She would call and cancel with Murphy, although she knew that politically, with a partnership in the offing, it would not be the wisest move. But tonight she did not feel like being Betty Anne Robinson, Esquire. Being congratulated and reviewing all of the steps that had brought in the large civil award was the last thing she needed this evening. She just wanted to be Evander's Betty. As she drove into the parking lot of Murphy, Renfro and Collins she said, “I miss spending time with you too.”

“So nine o'clock it is. I hate to hang up, sweetheart, but we're in rush hour here for some reason. Can I call you back a little later?”

“Ah, yeah,” Betty said. “Try me at Jacqui's or at home. I just got to the firm, but I didn't get much sleep last night, so I think I'm going to check on my messages and then head out for the rest of the day. I should be out of here no later than two o'clock.”

“Okay, I'll call you then. Also, Ferguson told me a great lawyer joke today. I bet this one is better than Jacqui's.”

With a smile Betty replied, “Thanks. I could use it.” As she pressed the off button on her flip phone and returned it to her purse, Betty leaned back into her taupe leather seat and turned on the radio. She was not ready to go inside the firm. Once there, she knew she would be beset by congratulations, some insincere, from the partners, associates, and support staff. News like this traveled through the firm in the wink of an eye. Although she wanted to feel their adulation, for now, she wanted to savor this time alone. The moment she had worked so hard to attain had arrived. The moment she had sacrificed and disciplined herself for had come. Since the day she'd enrolled in law school, she had envisioned walking into a courtroom with the odds against her and leaving the room abuzz. She had dreamed a victory would feel special, but she still felt the same.

All aspects of Betty's life were where she wanted them to be. She was not married, but she had convinced herself that she was not looking for matrimony. So why couldn't she smile inside? Why did she feel empty? Why didn't she feel as delighted as Jacqui, Evander, or even Jack Murphy at her accomplishment? Why, after she'd received the verdict, had she not been able to enjoy it before critiquing herself? At one time she'd thought she would be happy when she graduated from college. Then her happiness had been delayed until she'd graduated from law school. She'd thought she would feel fulfilled when she was accepted by a prestigious firm, but she was not. And then she'd felt she would not feel ultimately satisfied until she won a case in which all the odds were stacked against her. Now, as she sat in her car, she released her tight grip on her steering wheel and pondered what her next “until” would be.

BOOK: Until
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