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“Each category?” asked Dallas.
“Yes. They have a mystery buyer, a health book buyer, a fiction buyer, and on and on. Every single one of them is white. To tell you the truth, I like the days when I hit the road with the mainstream catalog. I hate meeting with these people about the Black books. It is a constant process of education, education, and education. It is way too exhausting.”
“What I wanna know is who this asshole thought Steve Harvey was when you first mentioned his name,” said Paul.
We hung onto every word that Victor had to say. “I only had two minutes to make my pitch. I told him that I had Steve Harvey’s biography coming up. The guy looks at me and says, “Who is that?” I said, ‘Come on, man, you gotta know who Steve Harvey is.’ The man has his own TV show and he sold out Madison Square Garden for his standup comedy act without even advertising. The guy listens and then says, ‘oh that guy! I’m glad to hear he is workin’ again because he was real sick and in a wheelchair, last I heard.’ Well, at first I didn’t know what he was talking about. But after a while, I realized he was talkin’ ’bout Richard Pryor.”
We all laughed to keep from crying.
18
PURE BLISS
So, Paul and I joked over the awkwardness between us, and the office hummed along in its usual pattern. Pam Silberstein and I started having lunch together again.
Mama and Elvira went on a bus ride to Atlantic City around Valentine’s Day and Mama won $200. They also decided to join a church, even though Mama hadn’t set foot in one since her best friend betrayed her.
In short, for three weeks my life drifted back into some semblance of normalcy.
One evening, I had my coat on and a shopping bag of manuscripts in hand when Asha buzzed me on the intercom. I hesitated—the last thing I needed was to get stuck in a lengthy conversation. She buzzed again and I answered.
“Yes, Asha?”
“Victor Bell is on line one. Will you take it?”
Will rain stay wet?
“Sure.”
“Hello, Victor . . . how are you?”
“I’m fine, dear, and you?”
Dear? He had come to his senses and was ready to snuggle me securely close to his massive chest. Surely heaven couldn’t be any better than this. I’d have to go on a diet, get my hair rebraided, get some black silk sheets for my queen-sized bed. Actually, maybe I’d better invest in a king-sized bed since Victor was so tall. My apartment needed a fresh paint job and new window coverings. Maybe Levelor vertical blinds . . . gold for the living room and a nice blush for the bedroom . . .
“Jackie, are you there?”
Good Lord, the man had been talking while my mind wandered. “Yes, I’m here. What were you saying?”
“I asked if you were free to have dinner with me tonight.”
“What about your girlfriend?” It just popped out of my mouth. He probably had some business problem he wanted to talk with me about and now I had shown my desperation yet again. I immediately wished that a rope would magically appear on my desk so I could coil one end of it around my throat and the other over something heavy enough to help me end my stupid-ass life.
“We’re not together anymore. Forget about it.”
“That was a very nasty message, Victor. It really hurt my feelings.”
“I’m sorry. Something pretty bad happened to me that day and I took it out on you. Will you let me treat you to some food and drink?”
I was so happy, it was hard not to pump my fist in the air and cheer. I really wanted to go out with him but not in the outfit I was wearing—a starched white blouse with ruffles at the neck and wrists, which made me look like Prince, and a plain, ankle-length black skirt. “Can I take a raincheck?”
“Sure. What about tomorrow?” He sounded desperate.
What the hell was going on?
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ll pick you up at your office around five-thirty. Is that all right?”
