Ebony Angel (17 page)

“It’s no big deal…really.”

“I wish I could skip this trip to New York. You need me here.” He nudged several stray braids behind her ear. If she wanted to be hired in corporate America, it would take a lot more than an afternoon of role-playing. Maybe the reason she couldn’t find a job after she earned her bachelor’s degree had something to do with her style. The job market was so tight a few years ago companies would seize on any reason to cut potential employees. “Let’s go interview-shopping tomorrow.”

She could pass with the hair, but the twenty rings, huge hoop earrings, long curling nails and—he ran his fingers over her gold bracelets—at least ten bracelets on each wrist would have to go.

“I know how to dress. This is no big deal. It’s practice for the real thing.”

She tried to hide her case of nerves, act like she didn’t care, but he knew better. “Treat every interview as if it will lead to your dream career.”

“Yes, Papà Smoke.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “What did you want to tell me about your family?”

He stroked her hair. “I’m sorry, angel. I need a little more time.”

She caressed his face. “I’m here when you’re ready.”

Ebony sat in the waiting area of Banks Consulting, a small, minority-owned software firm located in downtown Chicago. She kept telling herself the interview was only practice.

She twisted her engagement ring around her finger. They had found the perfect ring for well under ten grand. Thoughts of Richard filled her mind, and she calmed down slightly. Role-playing removed fear of the unknown, but did nothing for her nerves.
Treat every interview as if it will lead to your dream career,
resonated in her mind.

She held her hands out for inspection. After she’d dropped Richard off at the airport, she had her long acrylic nails changed to a basic French manicure. She shook her arms. The bracelets slid down, bunching at her wrists below her sleeves.

She stood, smoothing out her navy blue skirt and blazer. She stepped up to the reception desk. “Excuse me, ma’am. Where is the restroom?”

* * *

Ebony groaned at her reflection in the mirror over the restroom sink. She wanted to appear more conservative. She removed jewelry: first the dangling, multi-hoop gold earrings; next, all of the rings except her engagement ring; last, the numerous bracelets.

She stuffed the jewelry into her purse, then took her microbraids out of the ponytail and used the scrunchie to work her hair into a bun. It wasn’t the best bun, but it would have to do.

She examined herself in the mirror. Skeet was right, some dark-skinned women looked great with blonde hair. Her face soured. She wasn’t one of them. She reached into her purse, found the diamond earrings her mother had given her for Christmas, and put them on.

She stepped away from the mirror and smiled at the businesswoman in the navy blue suit she saw in the reflection.

The middle-aged receptionist gave Ebony an approving nod and escorted her into senior partner Darryl Beacon’s office.

“Please take a seat.” Darryl motioned to the chair in front of his desk.

“Thank you.” Heart pounding in her ears, palms clammy, nerves on edge; Ebony tried to imagine the short, balding, pot-bellied black man across from her was Richard, and they were role-playing again. She watched him nudge his glasses up on his nose.
There’s not that much imagination in the world.

“Is something funny, Ms. Washington?”

Her eyes flew wide open in horror. “I’m sorry. I have a bad case of nerves.” She willed the jumping beans in her stomach still.

His warm smile helped put her at ease. “This is your first interview, isn’t it?”

“Am I that bad?” She had never made it to the interview before when she job-hunted. The economy was so bad she never stood a chance.

He chuckled. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll make this as painless as possible.”

Ebony felt as if she had a copy of the final exam a week early. Question after question was some version of the ones she had practiced with Richard. An hour later, Darryl had shown Ebony around the office, introduced her to the other engineers, and offered her the position.

Overwhelmed by Darryl’s generosity, she sat across from him, searching for right words. Turning down a job offer was one scenario she hadn’t practiced. “To be honest, I don’t know. I need a few days to consider my options.” Though a small firm, Banks Consulting had offered her an extraordinary package. Confidence at an all-time high, she knew she could expect more from a large corporation. With the extra money, she could move out and build Crystal a sizeable college fund.

Her heart swelled with pride. It took six hard years, but she would be leaving grad school in a few months with a high-paying marketable skill. She would never have to choose between keeping her baby warm or fed. She could care for her child without anyone’s help.

He nodded slowly. “I like that. Never rush into major decisions.” He fumbled with the card dispenser on his desk. “Take your time. If you have any questions, call me directly. I’m sure we can work something out,” he added.

Her mood darkened. The interview had gone off without a hitch. The employees seemed friendly, and she was offered a dream job. Darryl was a tad bit anxious, but nice. Yet something didn’t sit right with her. “I should know in a week or so.”

She took the card. Then it hit her. This was the first time Trae wouldn’t be a part of her decision process. Jessica was correct when she said Trae was a control freak. That was the reason Ebony didn’t tell him about the interview. It was her way of secretly rebelling.
Rebelling?
If you did something to defy someone and he didn’t know about it, did the act still qualify as rebellion? She placed the business card in her wallet.
Yes.

She had reexamined her relationship with Trae after her last argument with Jessica. Over the years Trae had invaded every part of her life, and had finally taken over.

Before her argument with Jessica, she would have sworn she was a strong, independent woman, but when she really thought about it—was honest with herself—she even needed Trae’s permission to pursue a relationship with Richard. She sighed inwardly, thinking she had allowed Trae to run her life and now was uncomfortable when the decisions were actually hers.

Darryl stood. “There’s no rush, Ebony.” Everyone in the company was on a first-name basis. He’d asked her to do the same. He swiped his hand on his pants, then held it out. “Nice meeting you.”

She shook his hand. “The pleasure was all mine.” A new day had dawned. From this day forward, she planned to control her life.

“If you change your mind about Friday, just give me a call. No pressure.” A nervous smile tipped his lips. The wrinkles on his forehead deepened. “Not much, anyway.” He showed her out.

* * *

Darryl took a few minutes to compose himself. He needed Ebony to accept the position. He stared out the window at the office building across the street. He would do anything for his son, but this? He buried his feelings of guilt. Everyone would win, he reassured himself.

The shrill ring of the phone sent a chill along his spine. He chewed what was left of his thumbnail. The phone stopped ringing. He could breathe clearly again. He sat at his desk and scrolled through the caller ID when his cell phone rang. The last call had been blocked.

“Hello.” He loosened his collar, wiped the sweat from his brow. Avoidance would make things worse he told himself.

“Why didn’t you pick up the damn phone?” came a deep, harsh voice over the line. “Ebony left five minutes ago. Did she accept the job?”

He smoothed his hands over his balding head. The rumors that Trae knew Ebony’s every move were obviously true. “I’m sorry, Trae, but she asked for more time. We’re a small firm. Candidates of her caliber tend to want to work for large corporations.”

“What if you upped the pay another ten grand? No, make that fifteen.”

He sorted through his desk drawer for his ulcer medicine. “I don’t own the company. My partner will object, and so will the other employees.” He propped the phone between his shoulder and ear, then twisted the top off the medication. “I don’t know how I would cover that much money up. The most I could allow is another grand or two toward the sign-on bonus.” He chugged down the thick white liquid.

Darryl thought about his son’s drug addiction. Trae had promised to stop his flow of heroin in exchange for hiring Ebony. When he agreed to the deal, he hadn’t realized Ebony was actually a viable candidate. Any corporation in its right mind would snatch her up, leaving him with an angry drug dealer.

“Was her only problem with your firm its size?”

“Yes. I took her on a tour. She loved everything. I even invited her on a business dinner this Friday. We never take associates on business dinners.”

“What should she wear?”

“Anything from business to after five will be fine. I want her comfortable.”

“I guess you’ve done all you can.”

Relieved, yet confused by Trae’s calm reaction, Darryl asked, “Is there anything you’d like me to mention at the dinner?”

“Nah, I got this. You did your part. I’ll convince her to take the job with you.”

“About my son, he’s in rehab now.”

“I’ve got him covered. I put the word out. He can’t buy anything around here. Now on the south side, there are a few places I don’t have much pull.”

“I understand. Thank you, Trae.” He couldn’t believe he had actually thanked the kind of man responsible for his son’s addiction.

* * *

Trae fought to rein in his anger. He had to stay in control. He disconnected, tossed the cordless phone over his shoulder, slouched in his recliner, then took in the flat. He had Ebony decorate it years ago in hopes she would change her mind and take him back.

Everything was blinding white or crystal clear, from the carpet to the swirled, painted ceiling. He had so much darkness in his life that his apartment comforted him. It reminded him of the light at the end of the tunnel.

After seeing how she decorated Richard’s place, his heart admitted what his head had been saying all along. He had lost Ebony.

He snarled. She decorated his flat for him, and Richard’s condo for them. He pushed a magazine out of the way and grabbed his leather photo album. A giant red, black, and green imprint of Africa decorated its cover. Ebony added color to everything.

She had given him the album for Christmas. At the time he wondered what the heck she was thinking, but lately he found consolation in the images. She had compiled pictures from when they were kids all the way through the previous fall.

As he thumbed through the photos, he could tell when she fell out of love with him. In their early photos you could see the love in both of their eyes, then her inner light dimmed and a year of photos was missing.

He kicked the coffee table over, cracking its glass top in the process. That year without Ebony was the worst of his life. He flipped the page to Ebony holding baby Crystal. Sparks flickered in Ebony’s eyes, but they were for Crystal, not Trae.

He slammed the album closed. There had to be a way to convince her they belonged together. He wasn’t the same stupid kid, and could protect them as he always had. He kicked the table out of his way, then snatched up the
Homes Magazine
it covered.

He had picked out a house for Richard and Ebony. He flipped to the page containing a 3500-square-foot ranch home he knew she would love.
This should be our home.

He flung the magazine across the room, hopped out of the recliner and flipped it over. “She is mine!” He grabbed the end table and threw it across the room into the stereo.

The Bose system crashed to the floor. He kicked the magazine rack. It flew across the room, causing a huge dent in the wall. Rage consumed him. He wanted to tear the flat up as much as he was torn up inside. The next thing he knew, he was beating what was left of his flat-screen television with a bat.

Skeet burst in with his gun drawn. “What the hell?”

Skeet lowered his Colt .45 semiautomatic. “Aw, hell naw!” He stomped into the flat, slamming the door behind him. “Don’t even think about asking for your security deposit back.” He stepped over broken lamps, glass and furniture.

He pointed at the broken window. “Next time you throw a friggin’ trash can out the window, make sure the shit is open first. Damn!” He took off his coat and tossed it and his gun toward the one clear spot on the floor.

Trae stood motionless. The rage in his eyes slowly dissipated. The awkward silence in the room was broken by his uncontrollable laughter.

Skeet stalked up to him, glaring down. “You think this shit is funny? This is my building. Next time you go off, do it on your property.” He spun around and uprighted furniture. “From this day forward, I check references.”

Still strangely amused, Trae trotted into the kitchen and returned with a broom, dustpan and garbage can. “We need to talk.”