The Charade (20 page)

***

The following Monday afternoon, I sat in the break room, finishing up my turkey panini, slurping down a soda I would surely regret later on at bedtime. The room was abuzz from the ladies arguing about who was going be voted off Dancing With The Stars later on that night. Before I got up to go back to work, my phone vibrated. It was mom. I missed her call earlier. She never called before noon. I answered.

“It’s one thing to go on vacation, but to go on vacation with the man you’re in love with is something to cherish,” she said.

“I guess,” I said. I couldn’t contain my jealousy.

“You guess? Have some faith in your mom. Give it up for you mom. I’ve come a long way, right? Reginald is a good guy.”

“You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. With all I’ve been through. I deserve it. I don’t deserve your sass.”

“I’m sorry mom.”

“Is it Deandre again?”

“Oh gosh no.

“Is he still drunk texting you?”

“We’re done. I’ve blocked his number.”

“Thank God. You give the boy a second chance and he still fucks it up.”

“So, the resort was nice?” Changing the subject. I couldn’t bear to hear my mom critiquing my dating woes. Chandra was ideal for that. My Mom? Not so much.

She exhaled deeply. “Whew! Let me tell you.” I prayed for the worst, thinking she went to one of those all inclusive sex resorts. I gritted my teeth and shut my eyes tightly, bracing myself. “The food was amazing. The weather was amazing. The drinks were amazing.”

“You drank?” I asked, almost dropping the phone out my hand from the shock. “Alcohol?”

“Those bahama mamas were addictive. Reginald’s not a big drinker either, but when you’re sitting on the beach looking at the waves at one o’clock in the afternoon and everything’s paid for…why not?”

“I don’t know what to say. Just don’t turn in to an alcoholic.” She laughed.

“Please. You know me. I don’t have an addictive personality. Anyways. How’s the new job? I saw the post on Facebook. You seem to like it.”

She didn’t know the half of it. “I do. Tyson is my supervisor.” Maybe I’d tell her the rest of it when it blows up in my face.

“Tyson? He was always a nice kid. Skinny as all get out, but a nice kid.”

“He’s not skinny anymore.”

“I can tell how you said that you two have already been on a few dates.”

“Something like that.” Linda tapped me on the shoulder.

“Mom, I gotta go get back to work. My break time is up.”

“Okay, Tiny. Call me later so we can catch up some more. I love you.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

“Victor and Tyson are getting into again. My phone nearly felt out of my hands. “It’s worse than last time,” Linda said.

I darted to the lobby and was met by a sea of on-looking employees. I stood at the scene before me, dismayed. This time, security was involved. Two six-foot something, three hundred pound something men in black suits, menacing faces and head sets held Tyson back from putting hands on Victor. I wanted to do something. Anything. But my body planted me right on that marble floor like my feet were made of marble and glued to it.

I bit my lip, wanting to look away, but I couldn’t.

“Terminated?” Tyson shot back. It was the first time I ever saw a look of regret on Victor’s face. A queasy feeling coated the back of my throat.

“You heard correctly,” Victor said. His voice fell to a calm tone. “You went to the board of directors behind my back. We have a thing around here at this corporation called chain of command. You overstepped your boundaries.”

“And you overstepped your boundaries by not giving me that promotion. I was born for that position.” Tyson’s finger arrowed towards Victor. “And you know it. You fucking know it.” His voice boomed throughout the lobby like a cannon at war.

Victor folded his arms. I turned around and the handful of on-lookers accumulated into an uncomfortable amount of people. His eyes lasered through to my bones. “Everyone get back to work. Now.” Only a few people scattered. “Tyson you weren’t ready. You just weren’t. I’m sorry.” I looked behind me and the few people who left were replaced by dozens more.

Tyson’s face filled with rage. His tie was loose and mangled. The back of his shirt was untucked. “Sorry? Sorry? That’s all you can say? Everything I’ve done for this company?” His face wrinkled in disgust. “All the overtime, all the weekends I spent here when I didn’t have to, all the meetings, wining and dining clients and this is how I’m treated?”

“You made a choice to sacrifice your personal life. No one forced you.” There was no emotion in Victor’s voice. It enraged Tyson even more.

“Fuck you, Victor.” He rushed him, but Patrick, one of the behemoths held him back. “Pat, this is me man, you don’t have to do me like this. Who got you this job?” Patrick said nothing. “I got you this fucking job.”

“Patrick. Chad. Please escort Mr. Jones off the premise.”

“You’re gonna get yours Victor. Just wait. It’s karma. It’s all karma.” Patrick tightened his grip on Tyson’s arm. He yanked back. “Pat. Let me go. I’m calm.” Tyson looked back into the crowed which refused to disperse and saw me. “Tasha, get my things out of my office and take them to my house.” It looked like he was falling apart.

Victor’s gaze darted towards me. The lobby felt frigid.

The secret was out.

I was naked.

“
His
house?” Victor said, lifting his brow.

“Tasha please. Grab my things,” Tyson said as the muscle-bound men removed him from the lobby.

“So.” Victor stroked his cheeks. An uneasy look scribbled his face. “You two? Interesting.” He parted his lips to speak and then paused.

I stood in a crowded lobby - full of people I knew - and I’d never been more alone. Every eyeball in the lobby fell on me. It was dead silent. Except from the lump in my throat that I swallowed.

“I thought I told everyone to get back to work.” Everyone filed out of the lobby, back to their workspaces. The snickering and banter faded away. I stood in place. My knees shook so much, I was sure I would keel over even if I tried to. “Follow me.” Victor said to me coldly. I hesitated, but eventually followed the four men outside.

“Does Mr. Jones know about us?” Victor asked as we stepped out into the parking lot.

“What does he mean us?” Tyson yelled. Tears ran down my face onto the cold, black pavement. “Tasha,” his voice was desperate. “What does he mean by us?”

“Go ahead, tell him.”

I couldn’t utter one word.

“Okay, if you won’t, I will,” Victor said, almost enjoying the situation. “We’ve been fucking since…what is it, Natasha? Since September?”

“Tasha, no. Are you serious?”

“In all fairness, Mr. Jones. It’s been awhile since she and I had been intimate.” He put his index finder against his lips. “Well then there was the other night. I must have made you come about four or five times.”

“Tasha, no. Please. Anybody but him.” His face went from disbelief to disgust. “Tell me. Tell me now. Is this true?”

Tears poured from my eyes. I couldn’t look at his face anymore. I looked up at the sky and nodded slightly. Tyson surged at Victor but the security subdued him. “Go to fucking hell. The both of you.” He got in his car and sped off. Smoke and black tire marks were left in his exit.

***

I needed someone to dump my misery onto, so I decided to meet Chandra at the Museum Of Contemporary Art downtown. The last time I’d been to a museum was in the fourth grade; I hated them.

Every Friday night the museum stayed open until about twelve or one to attract a younger clientele, those like me who really weren’t into art. A musical troupe would perform or a DJ would spin and there was a cash bar, to liven up and loosen up the stuffiness from the attendees. I knew nothing about Picasso’s or Basquiat's or Warhol’s, but I did love live music and cocktails, so I was sold.

“What’s the difference between surrealism and abstract expressionism?” I asked sitting down next to her on a bench looking at a huge painting on display. It had to be the biggest painting on display there. It was painted red with splashes of yellow and dots of green. It reminded me of something a toddler would come up with if you gave it a few dabs of finger-paint and a canvas.

“Fuck should I know,” Chandra replied. “All I know is this piece is worth over forty million dollars.” She took a sip of red wine.

“You’re an art connoisseur now?” With my fingers I wrapped fake quotation marks around the word connoisseur.

“Stop playing. Of course not. My last client was a big art dealer from Ghana. He spent the whole night teaching me a lesson in art and I spent the whole night teaching him a lesson in oral sex.”

“Jesus Christ. When are you going to go into another line of work?”

“I’ll go in a different line of work when you get a real boyfriend.”

“Now, that’s not right. You know how sensitive I am about that.”

“Nothing to be sensitive about. Ain’t no rush.”

“Uh, yea there is. You can’t have babies at fifty. And if I don’t find somebody soon, I’m going be a mom at fifty.”

“You’re gonna breastfeed and powdered milk is going to squirt out.” An older lady standing up next to us gave Chandra a look of death. We paid her no mind and burst into a fit of laughter like ten year old schoolgirls on a class trip.

“You almost spit out your wine.”

“I’m glad you came out.”

“What else would I be doing on a Friday night?” I turned my head away from her. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I cheated on Tyson.”

She choked and then coughed.

“Excuse me?” I nodded. “You didn’t.” I didn’t respond. I 
couldn’t
 respond. “Finally embracing that inner slut you’ve been repressing all those years, I see. I saw it coming. It peeks its head out from time to time. A weekend in Vegas. Spring Break in Cancun. Bachelorette party. But never in full force.”

“I should’ve known you would condone cheating.”

“And they say men cheat more. No, men are just too blind and full of foolish pride to suspect us of it. “Who was the guy?” I looked away from her. “Victor? I knew you wouldn’t be able to leave him alone.”

“I was vulnerable. It really wasn’t cheating. I broke up with Tyson a few days before. We were done when it happened. I just feel guilty about it.”
She didn’t respond.
“Well it’s not really cheating. I mean I 
did
 break up with him before it happened.”

“Well what constitutes cheating? Is two days after the breakup the threshold? A different time zone? A different geographical location? I mean, if you fuck a guy in the forest and no one hears you scream, does it count?”

“I’m trying to be serious, Chandra.”

“Me, too. There’s no guidebook for this stuff.” The lady next on the bench next to us laughed. “Is there a guidebook?” Chandra asked her.

“I’m staying out of this one,” she said.

“Good idea. Don’t let her trap you in her web of madness,” I said.

“So that’s what you call it? I’m just a realist.”

“So what’s your next move?”

“I’m quitting Stellar.” I finished off my glass; it was nearly full before I emptied it. I needed another.

“That’s probably a good start.”

“It’s just too much for me too handle. Victor fired Tyson this week. They got into it pretty bad. In front of everyone. Security escorted Tyson out.”

“Jesus.”

“That’s not even the end of it. Victor told Tyson we slept together. Now the entire office knows.”

“Yeah, you need another job. Fast.”

“My life is a soap opera. Just when I think things are coming together, something like this happens.

“Welcome to my world. Men are worthless mammals. I refuse to date. I’m just going to get my eggs frozen and travel the world until I find some poor sap to marry me before I turn forty.”

“I’m not that jaded.”

“Since you’ll be unemployed soon, you can come work with me.”

“Please, I need a real job.”

“This is a
real
job. It takes a lot of work.” I parted my lips to say something sassy, but she stopped me, clutching my knee. She knew me too well. “Don’t you dare.” Her wine spilled from the glass onto the bench. “You better not say it.”

“What?” A smirk flooded my face.

“I mean it.”

“I was just going to say it must take a lot of work to get an eighty year old Russian steel magnate to get hard.”

“I hate you.”

***

I woke up Saturday morning and my body felt tight. Normally when that happened I’d stretch or take a long, steamy shower to loosen up my bones. Instead I decided to go on a quick run and head down to Kuppy’s Koffee Korner for a sip of java.

My trainers spanked against the frigid concrete, speckled with frost. It was too cold for this time of year.

By the time I entered the café I was fully awake, blood pumping and my skin coated with a sheen of sweat.