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“Let me get this straight, Adrienne. The first man you ever fucked just gave you a job in his department. Now your paycheck is bigger than mine. So the first man you ever fucked is going to put food on my table, and I’m just supposed to accept this. Is that what you’re telling me, Adrienne?”
“Mel, stop talking nasty like that. We were children. I’m a married woman now.”
“And he . . . ?” Mel watched her closely. “Is he married, too?”
Adrienne bit her lip and flushed. “No. He’s still single.”
“Do I have the word stupid printed across my forehead, Adrienne?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Have you seen him outside the office yet?”
She didn’t answer. Mel got scared and angry at the same time. He jumped off the bed, grabbed his wife, and shook her. “Answer me!” The flickering lights from the television illuminated Mel’s face and made it appear distorted in rage.
“Yes.” It was a whisper. Adrienne looked frightened.
He let her go, ashamed, and sat back down. “I don’t care how much he’s paying you. You’re leaving that company.”
Her eyes were defiant. “I am not leaving the company, and you’d better not ever put your hands on me again, Melvin Jordan.”
“Or you’ll do what?” he snarled.
“Stop it, Mel. Have I ever given you reason not to trust me?”
Mel thought about it. No, Adrienne had never given him reason to think she would be unfaithful—and he certainly shouldn’t be the one doing any finger-pointing—but it wasn’t Adrienne he was worried about. It was that brother. He knew Adrienne and he knew men, men with eyes in their heads just as good as his own. There was no way this Lloyd guy was just giving Adrienne another twenty thousand dollars to “work in his division.” No, something was wrong, whether she wanted to admit it or not. He couldn’t just sit back like a chump and let this man make a play for his woman.
“Besides, I need the money,” Adrienne pressed.
Mel knew she was right about that. That was the foul thing. Thanks to her shopping sprees—and his little now-and-then habit—they needed the money now more than ever. When he spoke again, his voice was cold and flat, resigned. “If you’re smart enough to move up in the world, you should be smart enough to know when to shut the fuck up.”
He turned off the TV and went to sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Adrienne, Lloyd, and Mallory spent many hours making plans for the start-up of PWE Multicultural. There were dozens of details that had to be worked out. They decided that it didn’t make sense for Mallory to be physically separated from the people who would be reporting to her, so Lloyd had an entire department moved to another floor to free up space for the new venture. The art department was put to work designing stationery, business cards, and brochures according to Mallory’s specifications.
They met with PWE’s computer wizard and spent hours explaining the number of desktop units, software, networks, and other technology that were necessary. When Lloyd was exhausted, Mallory was still percolating. It was time to choose furniture and divide the space into cubicles for the copywriters, technical stations for the art directors, and offices for the account executives.
Lloyd seemed bored when it came to Mallory’s color swatches and fabric samples, but he listened anyway. Mallory stood in the center of what would soon be the reception area of PWE Multicultural and declared “The color scheme has to reflect our heritage. Maybe I could use splashes of red, black, and green.”
Adrienne knew that Lloyd was not going to go for that. She watched as his brows creased.
“This is not our o
wn private company, Mallory,” Lloyd said. “It’s a division of another. Remember that many of the clients will meet with you here, and most of them will be pretty conservative.”
She flashed him a brilliant smile. “Don’t look so worried. I was only teasing to see if you were listening. I’ll stick with a little kente cloth and order framed African-American art for the walls.”
“That’s much better, but still, don’t overdo it. We’re here to make money, and frightened people don’t write checks.”
Mallory was unfazed. “People have a way of becoming unfrightened when their profits start to soar.”
Lloyd threw up his hands in resignation. “Fine. How many full-time people do you need?”
Mallory shrugged. “No more than twenty on the payroll. I have an excellent Rolodex of freelancers.”
“Very good.” Lloyd stood up. “I’ve got a lot of paperwork to catch up on. Keep me informed.” Mallory waved good-bye and Lloyd walked away.
