Cheesecake and Teardrops (13 page)

“We need to talk,” Charisma said.

“I'm busy,” Chase said without giving her so much as an acknowledging glance.

“Like hell you are. I know you've been in my files.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Charisma said.

“Prove it.”

“You think that by making me look bad, Nate'll reassign the account to you, and you'll be the new golden girl around her.”

“Correction, sweetie. In case you haven't noticed, I already am golden. You're the one struggling to get to my level, and that next promotion you've been eying? It's mine too.” She laughed.

If there was one thing Charisma hated, it was a smug white chick. She was ready to slap her silly. All she saw was red. “You just crossed the wrong woman. Watch your back, bitch.”

“Hmph, is that a threat?” Chase asked.

“Like I said, watch your back.”

“Oh, go back to Africa,” she said under her breath.

“What did you say?” Charisma asked her, getting up in her face.

“Go back to Africa.”

“As much black meat you've had lately, I'm surprised
you're
still here. Don't think I don't know about you and Blade.”

“Please, if your best friend were a real woman, her man wouldn't have been breaking his neck to share his benefit package with me now, would he? And,
mama mia
, what a package it was.”

“Let me remind you of something, cavewoman. Your people were crawling around caves when my people were kings and queens.”

“Well, you're certainly not a queen now, are you?” Chase smirked.

Charisma walked out fuming. She returned to her office, her flying fingers attempting to reinput all the lost data that Chase had deleted, but time was not on her side. By three-thirty that afternoon, her report was only a quarter done.

Nate stopped by to inquire on the status of the account since it was due by the next day, and he had a meeting with Bob Madison first thing Monday morning.

Charisma couldn't decide if she should blow the whistle on Chase or not, but she did admit to Nate that she was behind schedule.

“Let's cut to the point, Charisma. Will the report be ready tomorrow?”

She hesitated slightly. “I hope so, Nate. I'm working as hard as I can.”

“You hope so? Charisma, if you couldn't handle this project, you should have informed me immediately. There is no excuse for this. None. And now, all of our asses are on the line. You know this is one of our biggest accounts.” He picked up the phone and dialed his secretary. “Get Chase in here immediately,” he said before hanging up.

A few moments later, a doe-eyed Chase walked into Charisma's office.

“Chase, I need you to help Charisma with the Madison account,” Nate told her.

Charisma gave her a blank stare as Nate continued. “This project is due tomorrow. Chase, I know you're due to leave shortly, but is there any possible way you can work until five?”

“Of course, Nate,” Chase said. “We're a team. I'll do whatever needs to be done. In fact, when Charisma mentioned to Lacy that she was behind schedule, I began a preliminary report myself. I just didn't want to step on anyone's toes.”

“I appreciate your initiative, Chase,” he said before turning back to Charisma's desk. Nate picked up the phone and dialed his secretary again. “Get Lacy in here,” he told her.

Moments later, Lacy had joined the group. “Lacy, did Charisma tell you anything about the Madison account?” Nate asked her.

Lacy the office gossiper, refused to look in Charisma's direction.

“Just that she was having trouble and that she probably wouldn't meet the deadline.”

“You are
such
a liar,” Charisma told her, realizing that she and Chase were in cahoots. Apparently, all her skinfolk weren't her kinfolk, as her grandmother used to warn her.

“Unfortunately, Miss Dearborn, I don't have the luxury of figuring out who's lying. Chase, have your figures been verified?” he asked.

“Absolutely. In fact, I double-checked them this morning,” she told him smugly.

“Great. Chase, I want you to take over the account and Charisma, you assist her. I want hourly updates on your progress. Is that clear?” he asked them both.

“Yes,” they both agreed.

“Charisma, I have the updated test-market results on my desk.” Chase feigned helpfulness, putting her hair behind her left ear. “Why don't we start with that?” Chase asked innocently in front of Nate.

“Fine,” Charisma answered, throwing imaginary darts into her back. “Nate, I've worked hard on this account from day one, and you're just going to hand it over to Chase? That's
my
account.”

“Not any more, Charisma,” Nate said before returning to his office. Charisma was the last employee to leave that night. After the day's events she realized that she had just kissed her chances for a promotion good-bye.

Charisma worked down to the wire on Friday. Chase, who normally worked half a day on Fridays, stayed for the duration after making certain that Nate knew she was sacrificing her personal time for the good of the firm. She insisted that she'd do whatever it took.
Yeah, whatever it takes my ass,
Charisma thought.

Charisma soon caught on to her game. Chase was merely spoon-feeding her results that Charisma had initially tabulated herself. She had stolen the findings, and now she was spoon-feeding them back to Charisma as her own. And Nate was impressed with Chase's speed and accuracy. If he only knew.... By five o'clock all the data was restored and the report was miraculously completed. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Charisma just wanted to get the hell out of there.

She had an after-work appointment for a manicure at Hot Tips Nails Salon in Rochdale Village, and then she and Tangie were meeting at Cabana for drinks. Eventually, two seats opened up at the bar.

“Girl, you look whipped,” Tangie said.

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

The bartender took their orders and returned with their drinks—two apple martinis. Charisma proceeded to tell Tangie about her week.

“Why didn't you speak up?”

“I didn't have any proof. It would have just been her word against mine.”

“But still, Nate could have checked the times you two signed in and out or something. She made you look like a fool.”

“It gets better. Chase told him that I had confided in Lacy about being behind schedule, and then Lacy corroborated her story.”

“Oh, they set you up big-time.”

“Please, in that office a sister will cut you just as quick as Goldilocks will. There's no loyalty amongst the sisters. It's every woman for herself. I blame Chase. She was the mastermind, but like they say, payback's a bitch.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Karma will put her behind in check. She will curse the day she crossed my path. She messed with the wrong sister. Now, you see why I don't trust them? They'll smile in your face and stab you in the back every chance they get.”

“Let me play devil's advocate for a minute. Would you have preferred being betrayed by a black coworker?” Tangie asked.

“I don't know, but I am just sick and tired of the whole game. I'm tired of their arrogance and the way they look down their noses at us like they own the world and belong to some kind of privileged sect.”

“Wow, I haven't seen you this angry in a long time.”

“And trust me. It's not over.” Charisma sipped her martini. Slowly.

Tangie thought for a moment. “Well, you know how I feel about her. Between the two of us I'm sure we'll have no problem settling the score. Count me in.”

A smile crept onto Charisma's face. “Deal.”

Heather had put it off for as long as she could. Charisma and Tangie had told her it was time. Jamal thought it was time. Even the mechanics at Big Apple Tire had told her it was time. One day she woke up and realized they were right. It was time to buy another car—not a new one, but a better one.

It wasn't an easy decision for Heather to make. Lord knows, she had been putting it off for quite some time. Giving in made her feel as though she was drifting off track, losing focus of her goal to undergo plastic surgery. She tried to tell herself that she was just taking a slight detour for the sake of pure necessity. She wasn't abandoning her dream of a new nose—she was merely postponing it.

With that in mind, she left work early one afternoon and drove up to the Nemet showroom on Hillside Avenue for a car. Her mother had offered to accompany her, but being fully aware of the value of a man's presence at times like these, Heather opted to have Jamal meet her there instead.

He was more than willing to oblige. In fact, he was there waiting for her when she arrived.

The salesman immediately took them to see the most expensive vehicles in the showroom. Heather wasn't interested.

He promptly took her to the outside lot to check out the less expensive models in his inventory. All Heather needed was four wheels to get her from point A to point B.

Bells and whistles need not apply. It was bad enough that she had to cut into money “nose-marked” for her surgery.

Even though she planned on taking out a loan with the credit union, she still needed to put 10 percent down. Thank goodness the trip to South Beach was finally paid off. Less than a week later, Heather was sporting a new, black late-model Mazda. Though it had clocked 31,000 miles to its name, it was brand spanking new to her, especially compared to the guzzler she had just unloaded.

Whenever Heather got behind the wheel of the Mazda, she tried not to hate herself for selling out. She had to convince herself that the nose job was still in her future—a more distant future—but the future nonetheless. Each time she looked into the rearview mirror, she purposely avoided her nose and prayed the how-long prayer. Lord, how long will it be before I trade in this sorry excuse for a nose and start living up to my full potential in the looks department? She was already working on her weight. So, it was just a matter of time before her body was tight. The sad part of the transformation was that even if she lost every excess ounce of flesh that clung to her body, she'd still look a mess with her current nose splashed across her face. She'd just have to re-finagle her finances. Again.

 

“Wow, I never thought I'd see the day when you'd pick
us
up,” Tangie admitted to Heather when she picked her and Charisma up for a girls' night out.

“Tell me about it,” Heather agreed. “And there's nothing like a new set of wheels to restore your peace of mind. I mean, just the possibility of breaking down in the middle of traffic everyday raised my blood pressure twenty points. It was incredible.”

“I know how much you wanted that nose job, but I think you made the right decision,” Charisma told her.

Heather kept her eye on the road. She checked her rearview mirror, making certain that her glance didn't linger on her nose. “I hate to admit it,” she said. “But it was worth it.”

“I never thought your nose was that bad,” Tangie said from the backseat. “It has character.”

“Character?” Heather laughed. “That's like telling a mother that her baby's not
that
ugly.”

“Your nose is unique, Heather,” Tangie said. “It's part of who you are. Don't just ditch it for a new and improved model. Do that to your car, not a body part.”

Heather nodded to shut Tangie up, but it went in one ear and out the other. She drove down Queens Boulevard, catching almost all the lights. She circled around a couple of blocks a few times in search of a parking spot, but had no such luck, then ended up parking in the lot. Outside it was cooler than expected. Sometimes the weatherman's predictions were off. They walked to the Midway, wishing they had worn heavier coats. Tyler Perry's movie was sold out.

They ended up seeing something else instead.

Afterward they hit Cabana for a late-night snack. They gorged on steak, chicken, and black beans and rice, leaving no room for dessert. Heather listened to Tangie rant and rave about getting home to see if Tony had called her. Secretly, Heather couldn't wait to get home to her bathroom and undo the night's damage.

 

Ashley Stewart was packed with holiday shoppers like all the other stores in the mall that Saturday. Heather wasn't in the mood for crowds, but since she was scheduled to work late practically every night next week, this was the best time to come and pay her bill. The store was stocked with festive holiday merchandise, and Heather was more than tempted to purchase a few items. She realized, however, that if she waited a little longer, she'd be able to purchase an even smaller size. So she waited, but that didn't stop her from going through all the racks and daydreaming how she'd look in all the clothes. She especially loved the black velvet camisole top and matching pants and the red satin dress.

Maybe it was the purging or maybe she was just coming down with something. In any event, Heather was exhausted, but not too tired to hit a few of the jewelry stores.

She told herself that she was just looking. That she didn't need any more jewelry. If the truth be told, though, she always made room for just one more piece.

Heather walked in the door and spotted the most adorable pair of brushed satin gold hoop earrings. It was love at first sight. She knew they were made for her even before the saleslady took them out of the display case.

Heather oohed and aahed. She had to have them. No doubt about it. Unfortunately, she had left her checkbook and ATM card at home. She did, however, have her good ol' American Express card. Problem solved.

She waltzed out of the store and smack-dab into a shopper. She apologized quickly, eager to get home and eat. Her growling stomach embarrassed her. She hoped it wasn't audible.

She thought about going up to the food court, but then it would take that much longer to try on her earrings at home. Vanity won out. She went home.

Halfway home Heather reached for her purse on the passenger seat and unzipped it with one hand. She grabbed the steering wheel with both hands to steady herself. She was just a bit light-headed. The car swerved ever so gently as she grabbed her wallet, checking for her American Express.

Where was it?
Without taking her eyes off the road, she felt the contents of her bag, her hands now trembling.

Nothing. She placed the bag in her lap for further inspection.

Still no card. Finally, she dumped the contents of her purse onto the passenger seat. Even with the window cracked, her shirt was beginning to cling to her chest and her fingers were moist against the steering wheel. Maybe she
should
have eaten at the mall. Maybe she should cut back on her private sessions in the bathroom. Purging had zapped her strength.

She must have left her card at the jewelry store or maybe that shopper had picked her pocket when she bumped into him. She made a U-turn and headed back to the mall. That's when she heard a police siren and a cop pulled her over.

She turned off the engine as the cop approached her. He was a tall, burly-looking man with a red handlebar moustache.

She memorized his name. Officer McNair asked for her license and registration before returning to his patrol car. A few minutes later he returned them to her. She asked him why she had been pulled over. He told her that she was driving erratically, swerving from side to side. A Breathalyzer test revealed that there was no alcohol in Heather's system.

“I left my credit card at the mall, and I guess I panicked. That's where I was headed when you stopped me.”

He peered into her eyes. “Your eyes look a bit glazed. Are you on anything?”

She just stared at him.

“Miss Grey, are you taking any prescription drugs or illegal medication?”

“No, Officer. I'm just coming down with the flu.”

“Do you think you can make it home all right?”

Heather nodded. “I just want to go pick up my card, and I'll head straight home.”

The officer took out his pad. “Look, I'll issue you a warning this time, but next time . . .”

“There won't be a next time. I assure you, Officer McNair.”

“Good.” He walked to his patrol car and drove off.

Heather headed back to the jewelry store. She had indeed left her card. From there, she went straight home and crashed. She didn't give the earrings a second thought.

Ava called later that night to invite her to a lingerie party.

“No, not tonight,” Heather told her. “Can I take a rain check?”

“Have you ever been to one?” Ava asked.

“No, I haven't.”

“I'll be modeling, chickylicky. I guarantee you'll have a good time. It'll be fun,” Ava tried to convince her.

“Maybe next time.”

“Let me know if you ever want to host one.”

“You'll be the first to know.”