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“I should. Why?”
“Maybe we can go to the revolving restaurant at the Westin Peachtree across from where you work. You’ve always wanted to go there.”
“Keith, you’re kiddin,’ right?”
“No. What you think, a brother can’t afford it?”
“No, no, nothing like that. It’s just that, well—”
“Well, what?”
“It was in my dream.”
“Come on, Connie. Stop with the bullshit.”
“No lie.”
“Well, who did you go with?”
“Huh?”
“You heard me, who?”
“Bishop,” I answer.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I think there’s more to that dream than you’re telling me.” He rises from the bed, obviously annoyed and heads to the bathroom. I join him.
“No, there isn’t. Don’t trip. It’s just ironic, that’s all. Maybe I dreamed it because, like we both know, I’ve always wanted to go. The subconscious is a powerful thing.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. Yours is in overdrive.” I pay him no mind and dre
ss for work.
An hour later, we’re both ready to greet the workforce, me in my pantsuit and Keith in his Rocawear. I commute the usual hour-and-a-half drive during rush hour to Atlanta and think about the carpool experience in my dream. I laugh aloud, what a dream.
The parking garage is unusually full this morning so I drive down two more levels than usual. I park near the elevator entrance, exit my car, and proceed to the entrance when I notice a metallic silver Mercedes 500 in the far corner. Strange. What a coincidence. I reach the lobby and wait for an elevator car with the rest of the morning crowd. The bell dings and an elevator arrives. The doors open and everyone boards. I hear a familiar woman’s voice screaming, “Hold the door, please. Hold the door.” She enters with a laptop, briefcase, and folders in hand. The doors close and she looks around. “Thank you.” She sees me to her left.
“Connie, hi. How’s everything?”
“Fine, Ms. Collins. Everything went smoothly while you were out of town. How did the cases go?”
“Great. We got a lot done. We have a number of new contracts to handle, lots of good business.”
“Wonderful. I look forward to it.”
“Stop by my office later this afternoon. There are a couple of contracts I want you to handle.”
“Okay.” Bitch, I say to myself.
The day passes quickly with boss lady back. She has so many things she wants the staff to do and so little time to do them. I finally get a chance to meet with her like she requested this morning. Our conversation doesn’t take long. She’s a very organized, middle-aged woman who knows exactly what she wants, and communicates her expectations with precision. She instructs me to go to the accounting department downstairs on the fifteenth floor. She wants me to review a contract with Mr. William Johnson, the lead senior accountant and director of his division.
“I’ve already spoken with Mr. Johnson. He’s very familiar with your work and is expecting you at three o’ clock.”
“Yes, Ms. Collins. I’ll be there at three o’ clock sharp.”
