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“Yeah, I was wondering about that, too,” Nadia admitted.
Sighing, I said, “Well, Ihopedso, but everyone in that building had a funky attitude from the coworkers to the clients. I mean, the chick who was supposed to be training me kept looking at me all crazy.”
“What did you wear?” Sharla asked.
“Huh?” I replied. “What difference does that make?”
“Tell me what you wore, and I’ll tell you if it made a difference.”
Rolling my eyes up to the ceiling of my car, I said, “Some pink Donna Karan slacks, a really cute black Marine Serre turtleneck, and a black Zac Posen blazer.”
“Shoes?”
“Pink Gucci pumps.”
“Jewelry?”
“Just some diamond studs. I was going for a professional look.”
Silence from my friends.
“What?!” I shrieked.
“Um, Brooklyn, you’re going to have to do better about reading the room, sis. That outfit probably cost more than some of those folks make in six months. And by those folks, I mean the lady who was training you. You walked in there dressed like a rich bitch looking for a hobby, not a single mother in need of a job,” Sharla informed me.
I opened my mouth to protest but couldn’t. “Shit,” I muttered.
“Yeah, you should probably tone it down a little,” Nadia suggested.
“How? You’ve seen my wardrobe, and it’s not like I can afford to buy new stuff even if it’s cheaper.”
“You could try consignment, maybe one of those websites like Fashionphile. You could sell a few pieces on there and add new, less expensive pieces to your wardrobe,” Sharla said.
“What?! I can’t do that! I can’t sell my clothes. I just can’t!”
“Okay, okay! Damn! It was just a suggestion,” Sharla countered. “Look, you’re gonna have to figure out a way to keep a job. Your secret money stash won’t last forever.”
That was true, but I didn’t feel like admitting it. I was smart to hide money in a secret account during my marriage, but it was going to run out and soon. Thankfully, the conversation shifted to Sharla decorating her new house and before long, the call had ended. Only a few minutes passed before I was watching my baby girl skip her way to my car. Her school day had ended, and my performance was to begin. I was determined not to dump my mess on my child. I would pretend everything went well at work.
VANN
I was sitting on the back porch of my mother’s house helping Rabbit clean the fish we’d caught that day. Mama had basically bullied my big ass into taking Rabbit to our spot, a little fishing hole hidden in the woods behind our house. It was a place we frequented a lot when I was a kid and I had to admit the activity had brought me some peace, but it hadn’t totally cured what ailed me. Nothing could do that.
“We did good…huh, Vann?” Rabbit asked from his seat beside me on the bench. I grinned over at him as he diligently scraped scales off the fish with a spoon, sending them flying everywhere.
Fixing my eyes on my own work of gutting the fish, I nodded, “We did, Rabbit. But we always do, don’t we?”
“Yep!” he agreed.
The back screen door opened, and Mama stepped out thrusting a rag and my phone at me. “You got a call, Vann.”
I frowned. “How? I ain’t charged my phone in weeks.”
“I charged it and turned it on. Here.”
If she wasn’t my mama, I might’ve let off a couple curse words. But shewasmy mama, so I bit my damn tongue and took the rag from her, wiping my hands before I took the phone.
Looking at the screen, I sighed, “Hello.”
