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“You may be in the business of car repairs. But I’m in the home building industry. Building homes pay your bills, Robert, not your desire to rearrange operations because you’ve been here since two years after the doors opened. Now,” I went to my pen and portfolio where today’s agenda was printed out. Kenny, Marge-Jean’s assistant, leaned into the room on one leg.
His eyes were wide and forehead creased. “Ms. Witherspoon, you have two visitors.”
Without thought, and with great annoyance, I blinked hard. “They’ll have to wait. I’m closing a meeting.” My attention went back to writing my notes and I heard the door close after a stretch of time. “As I was saying: this conversation is going on record. Cecil, as the superior in this case, if another report of this nature comes across my desk, you’ll stand alone to answer for it. It’s called chain of command.”
“It’s been happening before I assumed this role,” Cecil argued, and I knew he was perturbed. When angered or focused at work, Cecil laid his queen to the side. His masculine traits dominated. It was something I had noticed since my father hired him years ago. “And what do you suppose I do when it undeviatingly happens again?” He challenged me.
I lifted the pile of reports in the air. “You do what these managers have done. Disciplinary reports.” I applied a fake smile, swinging it over to Robert. “We have procedural operations here atWitherspoon Homes. No one, no matter how tenured you are, is exempt from them.” I caught Cecil rolling his eyes. “That adjourns this meeting. I have to go.” I quickly grabbed my things, clutching what I could between my breast and arm. My phone vibrated with a text message as I murmured to my father, “Next one in twenty-two minutes. Take a potty break if you need to.”
“You sure you don’t need a chill pill?” he questioned, ribbing me.
“Oh, that pill is coming.” I scoffed. “It truly is.” I swiftly gaited out of the room, smoothly zipping through the space opened for me by those trying to leave, too.
I was nearing my office when Kenny called behind me. “Ahhh… Ms. Witherspoon.”
My eyes rolled and head nearly collapsed backward. Then my phone chirped again, reminding me to tend to it. It was Corinne, confirming our dinner date for her birthday.
Me:For sho. Send good vibes for tAday tho. Ya girl is sKruggling! LMAO
I’d made it to my office and opened the door. “Yes, Kenny,” I droned to him behind me. Then, abruptly, I froze at the two figures standing around my desk. Turning, I saw Kenny had just made it to the door. “Kenny?” I croaked.
“This is what I was trying to give you the heads up about, Ms. Witherspoon.”
“Who in the hell let them in my office—no one waits in my office for me,” my voice desperate and shaky.
Terrell, who I’d met from touring with them, shot a side-eye to Brielle who gazed my way with blank eyes. The smirk on his face turned my stomach.
I licked my lips. “What are you doing here?”
“You mind leaving us alone for a minute, sugar plum?” Terrell requested of Kenny.
Immediately, I didn’t like it. Terrell was one of Brielle’s hanger-oners. He was a very condensing queen, never bringing good energy to our rehearsals and shows. I didn’t have much interaction with him, but had seen a few guys and girls from my troupe on that tour cry from his harsh words. Terrell, at my height with a broad upper body and slender, knock-knee legs, would not be at my place of business. I wouldn’t tolerate it.
“Don’t speak to my staff from a place of authority.” I remained calm. “You’re the two whose presence is in question. Let’s start there.” I turned to Kenny whose expression was cemented in shock with wide eyes and a hanging jaw. “I’ll get back to you in a minute.” Returning my attention to Brielle and her sidekick, I asked, “Why are you here?”
Still looking at Brielle from the side of his eye, Terrell snickered this time. “Construction basic where?”
Brielle’s eyes fell to my modest-length heeledSaint Laurentankle boots then rolled up to my ripped boyfriend cut jeans, went past my black turtleneck bodysuit beneath a black, white, and brown tweed jacket. When she rolled her eyes over to Terrell, I glanced down at my clothing myself.Chanelwas a little over the top for work, but I dressed the jacket down. That’s when I was hit with the reminder of the world belonging to Ms. Empress, but this corner of it with the name “Witherspoon” on the building was mine.
I ambled over to my desk. “Either I can squeeze some answers out of you or I can get my PR team down here to do the honors—”
“Uhn-uhn!” Terrell cried, peering nervously at Brielle.
Brielle shook her head covered with aBSUbaseball cap, pulled low toward her eyes. The sight of it irked me. She was not a member of that elite society. The closest she came to it was her bestie, Tori McNabb, attendingBlakewood State Universityfor just a year. Brielle didn’t deserve the distinguished association. “No need for all of that, sweetie—”
“Ashira.” I blinked. “Shi-Shi, or Ms. Witherspoon is fine. But fake ass pet names will never be appropriate.”
“Ooooooh!” Terrell taunted. “Ms. Thang ain’t for the shits, Bri!” He laughed.
I wanted to call Cecil to have him come in here and serve Terrell a dose perfect for his queening ailment.
I picked up the phone again, but for Elle.
“No! I didn’t come for drama,” rushed from Brielle’s over-lined peached-stained lips. I knew I said I hated her, but it was damn hard to in the bright beam of her aura. In just an over-sized grey sweatshirt, a large scarf around her neck, fitted Bermuda jean shorts, and cowboy boots I’d seen on this season’s runway, this was the queen of pop—arguably. The woman had won more Grammys than any other woman in history. She won an Academy Award for her last movie—she sucked, but that was just my opinion. It was hard, but I had to stay focused. Brielle had no business in my world. She could stay in Austin’s as long as she liked. “I just wanted to apologize.”
I held the handset of the phone in the air. “For what?”
“For…” Her eyes jumped to Kenny. “…you know.”
