I'll Be Your Everything Page 33

  “Wait.”

  I don’t. I keep pushing the bike and listening to the little tumbling cans.

  “Administrative assistants have never been allowed in those meetings since I’ve been at MultiCorp,” she says.

  “There’s always a first time,” I say. “Let’s set a precedent.”

  “It’s just not done, Shari. Mr. Dunn only wants qualified people he believes in and trusts in those meetings.”

  I got your qualifications, wench. “From all the times you texted me and called me, you weren’t all that qualified to be in there either.”

  Ah. Now she’s breathing heavily. “It gets very intense in there, and I just needed confirmation from you for what I already knew.”

  “That is some serious bullshit right there.” Please forgive me, God. I should have only said “BS.” But abbreviations don’t have the same effect as the actual word.

  “What did you just say, Shari?”

  The BS queen doesn’t recognize BS when she hears it, probably because she hears it coming out of her mouth so often. “Qualified or not, you didn’t want me in those meetings because you didn’t want your assistant to sound more intelligent than you are. After all, I’m LIU, Brooklyn, not Harvard. You were afraid I would show you up.”

  “I was never afraid that you would ever show me up, Shari.”

  Pride goeth before a fall, wench. “Prove it. Let me into that meeting.”

  “It’s not the proper protocol, Shari.”

  I sigh. “Okay, I’ll just call Mr. Dunn and ask him for permission.”

  “No!” she yells. “Um, perhaps we can make an exception for this meeting.”

  Gotcha, wench. “I knew you’d see it my way. You know, you see just about everything my way, don’t you?” We’re almost to the end of the bridge. “If you weren’t such a bad boss, we wouldn’t be in this position, Corrine.”

  “I haven’t been a bad boss, Shari,” she says quickly. “I could have fired you on numerous occasions.”

  And she wants me to come back today? “Name one.”

  “When you ... when you let me fly out to LA unprepared.”

  I mimic her stance and voice and say, “It’s a line of designer clothes. What could be more perfect for me?”

  Tom cringes. Yeah, I should have warned him.

  “You should have warned me,” she says. “It’s your job to take care of me.”

  Yeah. I’ll take care of you good tomorrow. “And now it’s your turn to take care of me. If I don’t get a guarantee that I’ll be part of that meeting tomorrow, you don’t get any information today.”

  “Is that all you want?” she asks.

  It’s all I need. “Oh, your respect would be nice, too, but actually—no. Getting your respect would diminish me. I just want to be in the mix for the first time, maybe even share some of the credit that is rightfully mine.”

  “I see,” she says.

  She doesn’t.

  “I’m beginning to understand,” she says.

  No you aren’t, and you never will.

  “You just want some of the glory. I understand that perfectly, Shari. It is an awesome feeling when you win an account. Oh, you poor dear girl. You probably haven’t had many triumphs in your life because of your upbringing.”

  Lord, is there a special place in hell for her? And if so, can she go there now and can I watch her in torment? Just asking.

  “Please get back here as soon as you can, Shari,” she says. “I have a production team on standby.”

  On standby to produce what? “I have to ask my husband.” I cover the phone. “I don’t want to go.” I pout.

  He rubs my back. “Go for it.”

  I sigh. “Oh, all right.” I uncover my phone. “Tom says I have to be home by six o’clock and not a second later.”

  “Okay. Fine. Just ... get here.”

  Click.

  The nerve! She needs me, and she hangs up on me.

  I kiss Tom. “I’ll miss you.” I pull him to me. “Where will you be?”

  “I’ll be at Hairy Ads stealthily cleaning out the office I never use,” he says. “It shouldn’t take Carl, Tia, and me very long.”

  I look at Tia. “You’re going to Hairy Ads with them?”

  She hooks her arm into Carl’s. “Carl promised to take me to Sylvia’s, and Tom is our ride back to Carl’s taxi.”

  I like the way this is working out. Just like the movies.

  Tom drops me off once more, but I don’t want to get out of the car. “I really don’t want to go back in there. They all saw me leave in a blaze of glory, and now they’ll see me coming back in.”

  “The sooner you get in there,” he whispers in my ear, “the sooner we can get back to—”

  I don’t let him finish, opening my door, jumping out, and closing the door. I even run inside and push my way into the elevator. And when I enter the office, I already have my jacket off by the time I hit my chair.

  “I’m going to talk, and you’re going to take notes,” I say to Corrine, who is, strangely, sitting at my desk, my notes mysteriously absent. “Agreed?”

  “It might be easier if you—”

  “No negotiations,” I interrupt. “I talk, you take notes. Agreed?”

  She nods.

  And then for the next three hours, I sit on the edge of Corrine’s desk laying it on so thick that I almost start laughing, especially when she asks me to repeat my last lie. I tell her the goofiest ideas, and she drinks them in and even agrees with me, nodding her head and saying, “Oh, that’s good, that’s very good.” I keep talking right up to 4 p.m., and she has filled an entire legal pad with notes.

  “Your insights into this company are insightful,” Corrine says.

  How freaking redundant. “Now we’re going to talk about Tom,” I say with a smile. I just need a little more insurance for tomorrow. “Tom has been using your tail for years just to get to my ideas.”

  “No, he hasn’t.”

  Time to bust her out. “Corrine, he’s been using your booty. Sex.” I let that sink in. “Let’s see, how did he say it? Oh. He just listed your needs.”

  She doesn’t speak. I have her complete attention.

  “Let’s see if I remember them all, um ... rope, was it?”

  Her lips are so tight I can see veins!

  “Um, one-use drawers. Toys?” I nod and smile, slapping my desk hard. Ow, my hand. “Does that sound familiar?”

  Corrine’s eyes drop. “He told you all that?”

  “Hey, don’t sweat it,” I say. “It almost makes you human. So because of your needs, you revealed a few of my ideas to Tom.”

  She still doesn’t look up. “I may have let a few things slip.”

  Time to seal the deal. “And what you let slip was privileged, proprietary information, wasn’t it? Those ideas were MultiCorp’s ideas, right?” I put my nose a millimeter from hers. “If you try to screw me out of going to that meeting tomorrow now that you have all this information, I will have my husband, a very well-respected ad executive from Harrison Hersey and Boulder, come talk to Mr. Dunn about your indiscretions and improprieties.” I’ll bet she didn’t know I knew those words. “You hearing me, wench?”

  “I hear you,” she whispers, looking around. “I’ll get you into that meeting.”

  I stand. “Well, I gotta go.”

  Corrine stands. “Um, just make sure you leave your cell on.”

  I shake my head. “Uh-uh.” On my wedding night? Is she serious? “No way. Go with what you have. I am a married woman now. I have to tend to my man.”

  “Well, uh, be here at your regular time so we can go over the presentation.”

  I wouldn’t miss it. “I’ll try, but I’m going to have a very busy night. You understand. See you tomorrow.” I turn to leave then remember my graduation pen. I snap it out of its holder and put it in my tote bag.

  That’s right. I’ve graduated.

  I give Tom a call, he meets me at the curb on William Street, and he whi
sks me off to the apartment. I’m just about to throw him up on my kitchen table, when he hands me my phone.

  “Who am I supposed to call now?” I ask.

  “Your parents,” he says. “After we win tomorrow, I want to meet them.” He sits on the couch and picks up the remote control, clicking and turning on the TV. He won’t even look at me. Hey, yo, over here. Look at your blushing bride!

  He flips through a few channels.

  I stare at my phone. “I can tell them some other time, can’t I? This is our wedding night.”

  He turns down the volume. “And we’ll have one, but you have to let them know you’re married, and soon. We may be all over the Internet by now. Did you see all the cell phones in the air?”

  I did. Wow. I’ll have to collect all the footage so I can see my own wedding sometime.

  “You wouldn’t want your parents to find out that way, would you?” he asks.

  He has a point. I shake my head. “I’ll, um, I’ll be in the bedroom. Where we should be.”

  He smiles. “We’ll be in there in a moment.”

  I go into the bedroom and slump onto my bed. I know this is necessary. I know I owe them this vital information. I know I owe them much more than I’ve given to them. Man, I feel so prodigal all of a sudden. I dial a number I haven’t dialed in years.

  “Hello?” Mama says.

  “Hey, Mama. It’s me, Shari.”

  “Charles!” Mama yells. She never covers the receiver. “Shari’s on!”

  “How are y’all doing?” I ask.

  I hear some static. “Your father’s getting on the other line.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  “Hey, Shari,” Daddy says. “How’s my baby?”

  I have so much to tell them. “Um, are you both sitting down?”

  Two yeses.

  “Mama, Daddy, I’m married.” I wait for the onslaught.

  It doesn’t come.

  “I’m so happy for you, Shari,” Mama says.

  “So am I, baby,” Daddy says.

  Who are these nice people? Who has replaced my parents? Why aren’t they quoting the Bible at me? “Um, you don’t seem too surprised.”

  “Why would we be?” Mama says. “Tom already called us.”

  Tom already ... called. I nod. Yeah. That’s something Tom would have done. Wow. He’s building bridges that I burned long ago.

  “He talked my ear off for most of the morning, baby,” Daddy says.

  Circling the wagons, he said. He was talking to them the whole time I was destroying Corrine.

  “He even asked me for your hand in marriage,” Daddy says. “How old-fashioned is that?”

  “It’s the right thing to do, Charles,” Mama says.

  “I know that, I know that,” Daddy says. “He sounds like a really fine young man, baby.”

  “He is, Daddy.” I look up and see Tom standing in the doorway. I mouth, “Thank you.” He shrugs.

  “And so polite,” Mama says. “He told us he’s been attending church with you for two years. Is this true?”

  It’s sort of true. “Yes, Mama.”

  “I wish we could have been there,” Mama says.

  “Yeah,” I say. “It was beautiful.”

  “Oh, I know it was, baby,” Daddy says. “I’ve watched it a couple times already. On that YouTube thing.”

  It’s already out there! That is so cool!

  “Are you eating enough, honey?” Mama asks. “You sure looked skinny in that video.”

  “She looked just fine to me,” Daddy says. “And what have you done with your hair, baby? Why is it flying around so much?”

  For the next two hours, on my wedding night, I rest against the chest of my husband on my bed and talk to my parents. Well, they talk to each other a lot while we talk, too, but it’s just like being at home. Tom takes the phone several times to tell them how nervous I was, how stubborn I am, how many children we’re going to have, and how much he’s been trying to get me to eat. Neither of us tell them about tomorrow. I don’t want them to worry.

  “Mama, Daddy, I’m really exhausted,” I say.

  “You should be, all the work you’ve been doing,” Daddy says. “You’re doing me proud, baby, and I—”

  “Charles,” Mama interrupts. “It’s their wedding night.”

  “I know it is, woman,” Daddy says.

  “She’s not really exhausted, man,” Mama says.

  Oh my goodness! “No really, Mama, I am so tired right now, more tired than I’ve ever been.”

  Tom rubs my shoulders. “Tell them we’re coming to visit this weekend.”

  So soon? “Really?” I whisper.

  He nods. “And then it’s on to Tahiti.”

  “Okay,” I whisper. “Um, Mama, Daddy, Tom says we’re visiting this weekend.”

  I hear silence.

  “Mama?”

  I check my phone. It’s working. My battery meter’s half full.

  “Baby,” Daddy says softly, “we can’t wait.”

  “Mama?”

  I hear a click.

  “Daddy?”

  “It’s okay, baby,” he says. “Your mama’s just a little emotional right now. She’ll be happy to see you, too.”

  Mama’s ... crying. I guess that’s good. “Is she okay?”

  “Woman, you had your own phone,” Daddy starts to say, and then I hear Mama say, “Drive safely, child. See you soon. I’ll have your room ready. Good night.”

  Another click.

  I lean back into Tom. “My mama never cries.”

  “Another first,” he says.

  Yeah. I didn’t know my mama could cry. And now she’s crying. . . because I’m coming home.

  “Tom?”

  “Yes, baby?”

  I pinch his thigh. “You ain’t my daddy.”

  He growls.

  “Tom, I am really tired.” I am more than exhausted.

  “Me, too, and we have a huge day tomorrow.”

  I look up at him. “You don’t mind if we don’t ... consummate our marriage?”

  “We’ll have time,” he says. “Shh, Shari. Just rest.”

  And then I sleep for what seems like forever.

  Until I wake up in the middle of the night, run to the bathroom, and have the worst vomit burp I have ever had.

  Tom’s awake when I return. I don’t know if he ever sleeps. “You okay?”

  I snuggle up to him. “I’m fine. Just excited, I guess.”

  “I can’t sleep either,” he says. “I usually don’t sleep a wink before a presentation.”

  I turn and put my booty on him. “Then let’s not sleep together.”

  “Have I told you how much I like the way you talk?”

  What did I say? Oh. “I meant, let’s just ... watch the sunrise.. . .”

  I don’t make it to the sunrise, and Tom has to shake me several times to wake me in the morning. I look up and see him fully dressed. “Morning,” I say, trying to kick out of my covers.

  “Don’t get up,” he says.

  Fine with me. I return to my pillow. “What time is it?”

  “Three thirty,” he says.

  I do not like what 3:30 a.m. looks like. “Why are you dressed? Aren’t we supposed to do one more run-through at your house?”

  “At our house,” he says.

  Oh yeah. I’m a home owner now.

  “I think you need more sleep, Shari,” he says.

  “But I want to practice,” I say. Oh, that was convincing.

  “You’ll be fine,” he says. “You’re a natural.”

  I grab his leg. “Are you going to look all corporate on me today?”

  He grimaces. “Just for one more day.”

  I push his leg away. “I probably won’t recognize my own husband.” I sit up. “Um, what if people at the meeting know we’re married?”

  He shrugs. “So they know. I doubt it, but we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  I bury my head under the covers.
“You’re so funny at three thirty in the morning.”

  He pulls back the covers and plants a hot, juicy kiss on my cheek. “And this time tomorrow, we’ll still be going at it.”

  Yep. “Kiss me again.”

  He kisses my stomach, his tongue lingering a long time.

  Now I’m awake.

  I sit up. “I’m going to be so nervous, Tom.”

  “You’ll be fine,” he says. “And I’ll be there with you.”

  Beside me all the way. “Drive safely. I love you.”

  He kisses my lips. “I love you, too, Shari. Get some sleep.”

  And I don’t sleep well at all until the alarm clock jolts me awake at 7:30 a.m. because this is the first day of the rest of my life. So many things have come into place so quickly and with such good timing. There are so many “what-ifs” that went in my favor, and there are still more possible what-ifs today. What if I had waited two more hours for Tom to hand me my contract? Would we be on our way from Great Neck to Harrison Hersey and Boulder for work right now instead? Would we even have fallen in love, or would he just be my boss? Would Bryan still be in the picture? What if the jellyfish hadn’t stung Corrine? What if Corrine hadn’t stayed in Hawaii and had come back to the city sooner? Would I have backed down and shared my information with her and let life go on its less-than-blissful way? What if Harrison Hersey and Boulder chose someone other than Tom for this competition? Would I have ever met Tom? I suppose Tom would have eventually approached me at Brooklyn Tabernacle, but would we have—

  This is too much to think about. And even though I haven’t been very godly and won’t be very godly today, I have no other explanation than God. The Lord works in mysterious ways all right.

  And this beautiful mess is the proof.

  I put on my rugged outfit, the one I wore down in Georgia, try to eat a waffle but can’t finish it, and take one last walk past Whitman Park and across the Brooklyn Bridge. I don’t walk nearly as fast as I usually do, drinking in everything and everybody, and thinking very little for a change. Oh sure, I’m still curious about Tom’s presentation. “A trade secret,” he told me. Hmm. He just wants to surprise and impress me. He’s already surprised me in so many ways. He followed me on a bike on this very bridge. He called me just to talk. He drew me. He drew me in, too. He made me steal my own ring. Okay, he didn’t make me steal it, but ... And he called my parents. Man, I don’t know if I could stand a lifetime of surprises like that.