CHAPTER

Twelve

Well, are you going to go?”

“I—I don't think so.”

“But I wanna go!” Seneca wailed.

“Stop acting like a baby—people are watching.”

Mildred and Seneca had stopped at a pizza parlor after a day of roaming around the city; Mildred had stupidly mentioned that the annual company picnic was taking place the following weekend.

“You said you could bring a guest. I want to be your guest—I want to meet an investment banker . . . somebody with some loot!” Seneca squealed as she licked tomato sauce from the corners of her mouth. “And I'm sure that guy you got the jones for will be there too,” Seneca added slyly.

Mildred blushed. It had been a month since Tony started with the company and she'd seen him exactly two times. Once at the elevator bank, she was standing right next to him and he didn't even notice her. Another time she was on the street and he was on the corner talking to some guy.

Mildred had spotted him and stopped dead in her tracks as if in a trance. It wasn't until some rude pedestrian pushed her out of the way that she came back to her senses and walked quickly away.

“I don't have a jones for him,” Mildred retorted. “I just think he's an attractive man.”

Seneca smirked at her. “Well, if you don't want him, I'll take him.”

“Shut up!” Mildred shouted. Seneca's statement had hit a nerve. They were friends, but Mildred knew Seneca's track record. She'd bedded her sister's boyfriend back in high school and had laughed it off like it was nothing. Mildred knew that if Seneca could do something like that to family, she herself didn't have a chance.

“Calm down, calm down,” Seneca whispered. “I'm just kidding. Damn. Anyway, it's not like the man even knows you exist.”

Mildred rolled her eyes at her. What did she know? Mildred had faith—faith that she and Tony Landry would be together one day.

The company picnic was a lavish affair that took place in Central Park on a cloudless, warm June day.

Yes, there were the usual hot dogs and hamburgers, but there was also a rolling raw bar and sparkling wine.

Mildred and Seneca made their way through the throngs of people, stopping at various food stands to sample the delectable offerings.

Mildred even had a glass of sparkling wine, which went straight to her head—the reason she agreed to get her face painted in the first place.

“C'mon, girl, let's do the potato-sack race.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Mildred laughed. “I'm not doing that.”

“C'mon—the winners get five hundred dollars!”

“I don't care if it's five thousand dollars.”

“I'll do it with you,” a voice floated over to them.

Mildred and Seneca turned around to see Tony Landry standing behind them. With him was the man Mildred had seen him talking to on the street.

Mildred was stunned and Seneca looked like she was a minute from jumping his bones. Her mouth dropped open as her eyes slowly moved from his face and then stopped squarely on his crotch.

“Sure thing, good-looking,” Seneca spouted as she shifted her weight and sucked in her gut so that her already oversize breasts magically expanded in the baby blue tube top that was too small to begin with.

Mildred tried to say something, but her words were caught in her throat and she watched helplessly as Seneca grabbed hold of Tony's hand and started toward the table where the activities sign-up sheets were located.

“That's going to be some kind of race, huh?” Errol was talking to Mildred, but Mildred still couldn't find her voice.

Errol made a face and then repeated his statement, this time a bit louder. “I said, that's going to be some kind of race!”

Oh God, Mildred thought to herself. He thinks I'm hard of hearing!

She quickly nodded her head yes.

“So, you work for Greene Investments?” he said, moving beside her. “Do you know Tony?”

Mildred's eyes were glued to Tony and Seneca, who were stepping into the sacks.

She shook her head no and then yes.

Errol laughed. “Well, do you know him or not?”

Mildred found her voice, but it was weak. “We met once.”

Mildred could feel the stranger's eyes boring into her. And why wouldn't he stare? She was acting like a freak. She turned and met his gaze.

“I'm Mildred,” she said.

“Nice to meet you, Mildred. I'm Errol. I like the cat whiskers,” he said, pointing to the paint on Mildred's face.

Tony strolled over to Errol and Mildred, shaking both fists triumphantly in the air, shouting, “I rule! I rule!”

Seneca skipped contently behind him, winking at Mildred as she came.

“Now, how much of five hundred dollars are you going to share with me?” Errol asked as he patted Tony heartily on the back.

“You mean two hundred and fifty,” Seneca sang. “We have to split the winnings.”

Seneca's statement started a light banter between the two of them. Mildred marveled at Seneca's quick wit and her ability to go toe to toe with Tony. At that moment, Mildred felt a deep admiration and hatred for her friend.

“Hey, why don't we all go out and have a real meal, spend some of that found money?” Errol suggested.

Mildred had already started to fade into the background. It seemed to her that she had melted into the crowd and the three of them were yards away on the other side of the open field.

Tony gave Errol a look that said. Negro, have you lost your damn mind?

But Errol ignored it and then turned around in search of Mildred.

“Hey, Mildred, what are you doing way back there? Come on—we're going to help them spend their winnings!” he called to her, waving her back into the fold.

“O-okay.”

They ended up at a small Thai restaurant on Columbus Avenue. Seneca and Tony sat next to each other and Errol and Mildred sat across from them, Mildred facing Tony.

It was all she could do to keep from staring at him. She watched his every move and committed it to memory. She had little to say; she was just grateful to be in his company, even if it meant watching Seneca flirt shamelessly with him.

Tony on the other hand tried to make the best of the situation, although it turned out he had to work extra hard at not laughing at Mildred, because the painted whiskers played on her severe buck teeth and made her look like a ghastly rabbit.

Whenever their eyes met, she grinned stupidly before shoving another forkful of food into a mouth that never seemed to close. And he had the strange feeling that she was undressing him in her mind.

When the meal was done and the waiter with the annoyed expression made a fourth approach, inquiring if there was anything else he could get for them, they knew it was time to go.

“Can I give you two a lift to Brooklyn?” Errol offered, even though Tony was giving him that Are you crazy? look again.

“No thanks,” Mildred squeaked, but she wasn't heard over Seneca's thunderous “Yes!”

They climbed into the plush leather seats of Errol's Range Rover and Seneca looked as if she were going to climax right then and there.

“Damn, Errol, this is a nice ride,” Seneca spouted as she moved her hands over the leather.

“Yes, very nice.” Mildred just thought she should add that.

The traffic was horrible, and it took them nearly an hour to get into Brooklyn. Mildred was panicked the entire trip: she didn't want to be dropped off first; if she was, she was sure Seneca would pounce on Tony.

At the last minute and just blocks before they reached her apartment building, she blurted, “Seneca, I need you to come up to my place. I have something I want to show you.”

Seneca's head was bouncing happily to Fergie's latest tune. “Can't I see it another day?” she said without looking at her.

“No,” Mildred retorted a little too loudly. “I really need you to see this.”

Seneca released a long sigh and then leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Why you cock-blocking, Mildred?”

Mildred's heart began to gallop. She felt the hairs on her neck jump to attention and she suddenly found her hand clamped down on Seneca's knee as she spoke between clenched teeth. “It's important, Seneca,” she said, giving her a painful squeeze.

“Ow!” Seneca wailed, shoving Mildred's hand away. “That hurt, you know.”

Mildred stole a look at the rearview mirror and found Errol watching her.

“Sounds serious,” he said with an air of humor.

“Yeah, I guess,” Seneca grumbled under her breath.

They stood on the curb, waving as the truck pulled out. Then Seneca turned to her friend, placed her hands on her hips, and said, “Thanks a lot, Mildred. I was hoping to get the digits. That boy was fine!”

Mildred swallowed hard and then looked deep into Seneca's eyes and said, “That was the guy I've been telling you about.”

Seneca's face went blank. “Who, Errol?”

“No!” Mildred screamed, and gave Seneca a rough shove. “Tony!”

Seneca's eyes widened. “Oh,” she squealed, throwing her hands over her mouth. “My bad.”