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“Hey, hoochie! What you doing?”
“About to watch some TV, or rather, some Amazon Prime,” I answered, holding the phone up to my ear with one hand and the remote with the other. It was Sharla on the other end, sounding chipper as hell. “What’s got you in such a good mood tonight?”
“A lot, but I didn’t call to talk about me. I called because you need to have your ass on campus and in my office first thing tomorrow morning.”
I frowned, setting the remote on the sofa beside me. “Uh, why?” Sharla was the newly minted dean of Romey U’s African American Studies department. I was supposedly pursuing a master’s in Musicology there. There was no reason for me to be called toheroffice.
“Because my secretary is knocked up, it’s high risk, and she’s been put on bed rest.”
“And?”
“And your ass needs a job.”
“Aaaaaaand?”
“And I’m giving you one, heifer! As a bonus, you can wear all the Gucci, Prada, Alizé and vodka your label-whoring ass wants. The pay ain’t great, but it’s a job.”
My eyes watered. I was afraid to speak, lest my ass burst into sobs.
“Brook, you still there?”
Through a sniffle, I said, “Yes. Thank you so much. I just...thank you.”
“Don’t thank me too hard. I’m a bitch of a boss. Moody, a perfectionist, and like I said, the pay ain’t all that great.”
I had to laugh, because she really could be a bitch, but she was my friend, bitch and all. “I already know all that about you.”
“You know?! You calling me a bitch, Brooklyn White-Dembélé?”
“Shut up and add Nadia to the call so we can tell her I’m about to be employed!”
Giggling, she said, “Hold on.”
The African AmericanStudies dean’s office suite was huge, decorated in heavy colors and old furniture, a sign that it was intended to be a man’s domain, and that had been the case until Dr. Sharla O. London-Higgs became the first woman to hold the position, which was the largest department at this hugely liberal arts university. It wasn’t surprising, though. She and Nadia were born smart, overachieving twin flames. They both attended Romey U on full academic scholarships, while I was there on a band scholarship that only covered half the tuition. The rest of my fees were pasted together through a smattering of smaller scholarships, government grants and loans, work study, and a part-time job.
I was proud of Sharla just as I was proud of Nadia and her private counseling practice. Their lives and successes weren’t surprising. But most of all, I was proud of the strides Sharla and I had made repairing our friendship. I still cringed at the horrible things I said to both her and Nadia after I revealed my infidelity and subsequent separation from my husband to them. I felt judged and alone. They were my friends, and I guess I expected them to rub my back and say, “There, there.” I wanted them to be onmyside, to see things through the lens of my eyes. But instead, they did what real friends do. They called me on my shit. They told me I was wrong, and I wasn’t trying to hear it. So I laid bare their weaknesses in retaliation and had to fight hard to win back their friendship.
Now? Sharla, who was the last to forgive me, had given me a real lifeline—a job.
Agoodjob.
With benefits!
Sitting at my new desk, I filled out the new employee paperwork, my eyes misting the tiniest bit at the possibility of actually keeping a job for more than a few hours. Or, as was my current post-marriage record, a week. I was going to be the best damn secretary that ever secretaried.
“You almost done?”
My head popped up to see Sharla standing over me. Damn, my friend looked good, and her wardrobe? Of course, she wouldn’t be bothered by what I wore. One had to wake up early in the morning to out-dress her. Standing there in a gorgeous burnt orange sweater dress cinched at the waist with a gold belt, chocolate covered tall boots, and huge gold statement earrings, she made the floral Chloe dress and Kenneth Cole pumps I wore look like a Walmart special.
“Yes,” I answered her. “Did you need me to do something?”
“I will once you’re finished. Just need to go over your job description with you. Brought you some coffee.”
I gazed at the Starbucks cup in her hands, frowning as I wondered how she’d managed to leave campus and make it back so quickly. Then I remembered there was a small Starbucks located in the student center. “Oh, thanks!”
“Uh-huh. Don’t get used to it, Ms. Dembélé,” she said, leaving my desk and heading into her massive office.
Smiling, I shook my head and went back to completing my paperwork.
